#I’m sleep deprived I should delete this but I’ve had this idea for over a year I need to post about this in order to shut up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cdevroe · 1 year

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Building Tuff - A static site generator just for me

Just about a month ago, for some unknown and undoubtedly a sleep deprived reason, I began building my own static site generator (SSG).

And I did it entirely wrong. This is that story.

A sensible person would have first looked at the available static site generators and tried them first. I didn't. In fact, I have only a limited amount of experience with a few SSGs. That same sensible person should have made a comprehensive feature matrix to figure out what these products offered and, perhaps, pick out the features I would need. I didn't do that either.

Instead, I wanted to see how I would solve the problem rather than looking at prior art. By doing so, perhaps I would come up with some different (and, maybe, better?) ways of doing some of the things that SSGs do. Now that I'm about a month into development I'm ready to share what I've accomplished so far. Spoiler: I don't think I came up with anything new or better. But I have had fun.

I named my SSG Tuff, the type of rock formed from volcanic ash. My mind is like a volcano spewing nonsense and Tuff is what puts it all together.

Here is how Tuff works today.

The directory structure so far:

_lib - For external code libraries.

dist - For the output that is the website itself

website

website/assets (multiple directories for images, css)

website/content - for markdown files

website/content/blog - blog posts (directories by YYYY/MM)

website/content/pages - pages e.g. about

website/content/podcast - podcast episodes

website/content/portfolio - portfolio entries

website/content/blog.md

website/content/home.md

website/content/podcast.md

website/content/portfolio.md

website/feeds - templates for syndication feeds

website/layouts - HTML template files

My main objective with Tuff was to avoid a complicated technology stack and keep dependencies to a minimum. As it stands, there is but 1 code dependency and that is Parsedown. I wasn't about to rebuild a Markdown parser in PHP. Parsedown is extensible with add-ons but I don't currently use any.

Other dependencies related to the stack are that you need to be able to run PHP. I'm currently using PHP 8.1 on my Mac to run Tuff locally.

There is no magic to how Tuff works. I've set up various commands that will chew through the markdown files and spew the content out combined with the HTML in the layouts folder. Each section of the site is able to be built on its own.

For example, to build the entire website I run tuff build all from the command line. This deletes the previous build of the site and rebuilds it from scratch. Now that my website has reached a point of some sort of solid footing, I shouldn't need to rebuild the entire site very often. Most of the pages on the site do not change often so there is no need to rebuild them. However, whenever I make a change to one of the core layout files (like, say, the footer) I need to. Rebuilding the entire website, with over 15,000 files, takes less than 10 seconds. This has nothing to do with my skills as an efficient programmer and more to do with the awesome raw power under our fingertips with computers.

Other commands I have include tuff build recent which only builds the most recent posts, tuff build portfolio which rebuilds the portfolio. Of course, other commands include building the podcast pages, the other pages like the about page, etc. And, I have a command to move assets (images, CSS files) around.

I plan to make Tuff's build routine even more efficient over time. I do not agonize over every millisecond of build time, but I like the idea of touching just the files that are necessary. By doing so it will keep things like file created dates and modified times more accurate.

The built website is able to be viewed on my local computer and network so that I can test the site on other devices. For this I'm using Docker, though on a Mac I obviously don't need to do that. I just to like Docker Compose. I'm using a dead simple Apache container and that's it.

Once I've verified that my updated content has been built correctly, it is time to deploy the changes to the public site.

To deploy Tuff uses rsync. This has proven to be extremely fast. I can first request a "dry run" deploy which lists the files that will be updated during a real live deploy. I sometimes do this if I'm curious how many files will be impacted. But most often I just shoot from the hip. The deploy routine can be broken apart into smaller chunks to just deploy things like assets. I plan to break this part even more to conincide with Tuff's other build commands. This way I can deploy just a single page, just a single blog post, etc.

Backing up my website's content has never been easier. In fact, I currently have 4 copies of my website's content that are fairly up-to-date. Tuff's built-in backup command will take the local copy and push it out to OneDrive and local hard drives. This too I would like to improve to daisy chain commands together so that I don't need to run this manually. I'd also like to set up a Shortcut on macOS to either alert me when a backup is out of date or run the routine when it is.

Tuff's current featureset includes, but is not limited to:

Home page

Pages like about or projects

Blog index, and pagination, posts, titleless posts

Blog post tag indexes, examples photography, wis

Blog date indexes, example January 2018

Portfolio index and entries

Podcast index and entries

Mastodon favorites (gathers Mastodon faves at build time)

RSS feed

Social media redirects, example cdevroe.com/yt redirects to YouTube

Featured images for portfolio and podcast post types, including image counts

And text files. Each page or post has a corresponding text file. Here is the one for this post. Append .text to most URLs and you'll find the content. I stole this idea from Daring Fireball.

Of course, there is still much to do. I'd like to make it easier to share a photo from my phone to my website. Right now there are a number of steps to do so. Most of those steps can be eliminated with a few Shortcuts automations. I'd also like to bring back the comments that had been left on my site over the decades. I have a lot of server maintenance to do to pair down the services that run there that I no longer need (such as mySQL). I'm also going to take that opportunity to upgrade a bunch of the software there. And of course, just improvements overall.

My website has never been faster or used less compute cycles to deliver a page. I'm super happy with how things are today and I'm looking forward to continuing to whittle away at making more improvements to Tuff. And I may end up using it to rebuild all of my other websites including The Watercolor Gallery.

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bunnie-the-lighthouse · 3 years

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𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝐼𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑀𝑒

Pairing: ATEEZ Choi San & Reader.

Warnings: May Be A Bit More Explicit Than My Other Suggestives. Again, It’s Suggestive.

Inspiration: Suddenly Popped Up, I Dunno Why -- Maybe It’s Because I’m Sleep Deprived

Basic Idea: University Student Trying To Work On Final Project But Boyfriend Distracts & Demands Love(?).

Type: Fluff & Suggestive (I Think)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After a long day of practicing for Kingdom, the boys stayed awake until 2 AM in the morning. Once they felt that they were satisfied with their progress, Yun-Ho decided to call it a night (or day, I dunno).

“Damn, I’m exhausted,” San groaned out while doing one last stretch, “Not the only one,. Are you coming to the dorms or going over to _____’s apartment?” Hong-Joong asked as he then threw a water bottle at Seong-Hwa.

“I think I may go over to _____’s, she’s been stressing over her exams so I want to be there for her too, after all, she has been here to support us all a lot too,” he explained as the leader gave him a thumbs up. “Say hi to her from us, San-Ah,” Seong-Hwa reminded as your boyfriend did an ‘ok’ sign.

Their Manager first dropped off the boys at the dorms, later taking San to your apartment complex. San was listening to some music while trying to take a quick nap so that he had energy to stay beside you during the long night.

After a few ten or so minutes, the van stopped and San woke up. “We’re here, San,” his Manager called as San nodded, “Thanks for the ride Manager-Nim, please drive back safely,” he said while bowing his head.

He then walked into the apartment complex already having a copy of your keycard as you knew that he’d come over sometimes. Going up to the third level, he then went over to your apartment and unlocked the door with the copy.

Your living room lights were off, the kitchen still being lit. He then placed his bags down on the sofa, hearing your bedroom door creak softly. You then peeked, San smiling at you as you were holding your thermos as a weapon. Gasping, you dropped it and ran towards him, jumping as you attacked him with a hug.

He laughs while hugging you back, smelling your shampoo as he felt at home. “Sannie!” you squealed as he then squeals your nickname cutely, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could have cooked you ramen or something,” you whined while getting off of him.

You then sat him down on the couch while going over to the kitchen to give him a cup of water. “I didn’t want to disturb you, hun. I know that you are studying for your finals,” he said while grabbing the cup of water and taking a few sips of it.

“My finals are next week but I still have a few projects on the list, that’s why I’ve been busy -- but that doesn't mean you should starve to death,” you cried out as he caught your wrist, pulling you down to his lap.

“I can recharge my energy just by your presence,” he whined while hugging you. You couldn’t help but internally squeal, softly combing his hair back as he closed his eyes, comforted and calmed by your scent and warmth.

Sadly, you escaped his grasp when he had fallen asleep -- you were worrying over the project and left to continue the research process. You were sad that you had to do that, but the project was a whopping 65% of the course’s grade.

But, San being the cuddle bug that he was -- realized that you were gone. His eyes fluttered open, seeing how he was alone on the living room sofa, a blanket wrapped around him.

Your bedroom door slammed open, shocking you as you yelped. “San!” you yelped while clutching your chest as he grumpily face planted onto your bed, curling up into a ball as you then sighed. “I’m sorry,.” you whined while going over to him and hugging him, kissing his cheek as he did a ‘hmph’.

“This project is really important Sannie, I need to finish at least half of it,” you explained as he didn’t want to listen to you. Defeated, you kiss his forehead and return back to work. As you sit down to work San slowly and silently sits up, muttering “Not for long,” under his breath.

He knew you were already tired, so he was gonna make you more tired.. If you know what I mean.

“Ah! San!” you squealed as San was now underneath your desk, prying your legs open. “What are you doing?!” you whisper-shouted, not wanting the neighbors to hear you since they were sleeping. “Hmm? Oh, nothing, just ignore me,” he smiled cheekily as you were suspicious.

However, you decided to go back to work. That is until you jolted at a ticklish feeling -- San had licked your inner thigh and now proceeded to give it tiny kitten licks. “Choi San!” you whisper-shouted as this time, he ignored you.

You then cursed at yourself mentally for wearing shorts, feeling San’s hand glide over to your waist, massaging your belly as you fought the temptation. “C’mon baby doll, I know you can’t focus -- so why don’t you focus on me instead?” he asked while giving a few other kisses on your thighs.

“Choi. San.” you breathed out as you felt your intimates get hotter. “S-Stop teasing,” you whimpered out as you felt him take off your shorts and panties, the cool air making you shiver. “Oh~” he cooed.

You threw your head back, covering your mouth with your hand, suppressing the moan that would have come out. “San~” you were able to squeak out as he looked at you with a smirk, his lips glistening as your desk lamp showed the naughty deed he just did.

He then got out from under the desk and lifted you up, laying you down on your bed. Immediately crashing his lips on yours, making you taste yourself. You then moan out, feeling his hands slowly cup your breast.

He then pulls away, licking his lips while looking down at you, lustfully yet with a loving gaze. “Will you give me your attention now?” he asked as you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as he chuckles, lowering down to your earlobe and giving it small nibbles.

“Well, since I have my baby doll’s attention now.. I will help you forget all of your worries, and shower you with love. Are you ready, my love?” ..

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Helloo, Bunnie here.

First of all, I’m sorry if this suggestive is a bit too explicit, I did it more explicit since I was thinking that it would add more fuel to the fire(?)

I do hope that none of you guys were uncomfortable while reading this, if you were, I truly am sorry and I’ll try to tone it down.

Anywho, I do hope that some of you guys did enjoy it!

Don’t have much to say other than the fact that my Tumblr is acting up so, I’ll try to figure out what is making it glitch so much! (If you saw that I was posting stuff and deleting, it’s all part of that glitch thing, I think I may have messed some stuff up T_T)

Thank you for the support y’all, I’ll try to have the Series at least 50% completed so that I can have some Chapters ready for release.

The Series (”Fluffy Tails”) consists of Seong-Hwa, San, and Woo-Young being Nine Tailed Foxes! I hope y’all also check it out!

For now, I hope y’all take care, stay safe, and I’ll catch y’all next time!

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krisdreaming · 3 years

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PART 1 | A FAVOR

｢ Masterlist ｣ | Next >

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

Summary: Somehow, you ended up agreeing to bring your non-existent boyfriend to the family Christmas gathering at your grandparents’. Your chem lab partner and fast friend, Kuroo Tetsurou, agrees to play the part. Your developing feelings for him won’t cause any problems, right?

WC: 1.7k

A/N: I am v i b r a t i n g, it’s finally here! I’m very excited to share this story with you all, I’ve been having an absolute blast writing it! I already feel like it’s so much better than last year, and tbh reading the old fic is so cringy for me lmao I lowkey want to delete it.

The winter sky is slate gray above you, shedding a few stray snowflakes around you as you walk. The streets of the small university town have been decked out with lights and decorations for a few weeks now, and with the falling snow to match, it’s really starting to feel like Christmas. You reach for the door of the coffee shop, stepping inside and immediately drawing in the heavenly aromas of coffee and pastries. The warm air is such a contrast to the chill of the outdoors that you can feel a slight tingle in your cheeks.

Looking around, you spot Kuroo at one of the corner tables and make your way over to him. “So, what do you think?” You ask, making a vague gesture to the entirety of the coffee shop, “So much better than the one on campus, right?”

“I’ll let you know after I taste the coffee,” He says lightly with his usual teasing smirk. He lifts the mug to his lips and peers at you over the rim for a few moments before taking a sip. “Hmm,” He smacks his lips a few times, resting the mug on the table and tilting his head to the side in exaggerated thought.

“Well?” You finally prompt, “Does it get the Kuroo seal of approval?”

“Not sure,” He says, eliciting an eye roll from you as he lifts his mug again and takes a bigger sip. “Oh!” He reaches for another mug that you hadn’t noticed and pushes it across the table. “I ordered this for you. It’s your favorite here, right? The caramel macchiato?”

You blink at him in surprise, reaching out automatically to wrap your fingers around the warm mug. “You remembered that?” You ask dumbly.

“Of course I did. You’re only talking about it every day,” He rolls his eyes, “Meanwhile some of us are actually trying to do our chem lab, you know.” The teasing smile on his face is starting to seep into his voice, and you chuckle.

“Oh, please. What would you do without me in lab?” You ask, finally lifting the mug to your lips to take a sip. The milky sweetness of the coffee draws out a soft hum of contentment.

“Get work done,” He laughs, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head as though dodging the glare you shoot his way. “And speaking of work, we’d better get started on this write up if we want to have it finished for class tomorrow.” He flips open his notebook, and you fish around in your bag for yours. It is why you’re here, after all.

You’re about a third of the way through the assignment when your phone rings. Kuroo leans back in his chair as you peek at the screen. “It’s my grandma,” You say apologetically, “I should get this.” Standing to your feet, you step out into the dusk that’s falling outside. “Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N, this is Grandma.”

You shake your head. “Yes, Grandma, I know. How are you?” She doesn’t call you often, so you hope everything is alright.

“Fine, fine,” She says brusquely, quickly brushing past the niceties to get to the real reason she’s calling. “I was thinking, and Grandpa and I agreed that it would be so nice if you invited your boyfriend to Christmas this year.” Suddenly, the coffee you’d just finished drinking is turning to a solid brick in your stomach. “We’d love to meet him, dear, you hardly ever tell us anything about him!”

You let out a shaky breath. It had been harmless – or so you thought. Just a little white lie. Nothing wrong with letting your grandmother believe you’d found a boyfriend at college. She’s always been so hopeful that you’d find someone special, and she asks at every opportunity, so the story had developed on its own. Now you’re starting to realize why that may have been a bad idea.

“No, Grandma, it’s fine, really. He doesn’t need to come.”

“Nonsense. There’s plenty of room and you know there’s always plenty of food, we’d love to have him.” Your grandmother’s voice crackles insistently through the phone.

“Grandma-”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” She says in a tone you’ve never once dared to argue with. “You bring this boyfriend of yours to Christmas, and that’s final.” You bite down a little too hard on your lower lip.

“I’ll see if he’s free,” You say weakly, hoping to buy yourself some more time.

“Good,” She says, finally satisfied. “I’m looking forward to meeting this young man. Now I’m sorry to go so soon, dear, but I have a pie in the oven that needs to come out. You just let me know when the two of you will be getting here next week, alright?”

“Okay, Grandma. If he can come,” You add quickly. “Bye. Love you.”

“And I love you, dear.” For a few moments after she hangs up, you keep your phone at your ear, listening to the dial tone. Finally, you remember that Kuroo is still waiting for you inside, and you slowly turn and go back into the coffee shop.

“Everything okay?” Kuroo asks when you sit back down. You paste a smile on your face and pick up your pencil.

“Yeah, fine!” You chirp, “My Grandma just wanted to discuss a few things about the Christmas get together coming up.”

“Ah, cool. That sounds really nice.”

“Mm-hmm,” You brush it off, “Let’s get this finished, okay?” You try to focus on the lab report, but your mind keeps wandering back to the conversation with your grandmother. You nod along when Kuroo makes a suggestion and dutifully jot down your answers, but you’re working on autopilot.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” Your gaze snaps to Kuroo and you nod quickly. He sets his pencil down and leans back in his chair, eyeing you critically. “I dunno, you just seem kind of distracted,” He gestures to your paper, and when you look down, you realize that you’ve been erasing so fiercely that a hole is worn into the page. You cover it sheepishly with your hand.

“I’m fine. It’s stupid,” You say with a shrug and a light chuckle. He nods knowingly. He isn’t prying, but something in his expression prompts you to keep going. “You’re going to laugh at me,” You warn before continuing.

“Brilliant,” He says, leaning on his elbows and focusing his entire attention on you. You clear your throat.

“I may or may not have implied to my grandma that I have a boyfriend. Perhaps more than once. I said perhaps!” You repeat it at the way his lips are screwed up, already trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

“But you don’t,” He interjects.

“No. Thank you for that,” You say dryly. “Anyway, as it turns out, Grandma has extended a generous invitation for my boyfriend to attend our family Christmas gathering.”

“Your boyfriend that doesn’t exist,” He says with a smirk.

“We’ve established that, yes,” You huff. “Any bright ideas, smarty pants?”

“Hm, so you come to me for advice,” Kuroo strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Sounds like you need to get yourself a boyfriend.” You snort. “Or at least someone to pass off as your boyfriend,” He amends. “For the right price, I might be persuaded. Isn’t this your grandma that sent you those cookies the other week?”

“The one and only,” You nod.

“Mm-hmm,” He nods slowly, watching you a little too closely. Just when you start to feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, he sits back again. “Well, if there are going to be more of those cookies, you know where to find me,” He quips, then clears his throat. “Well, we’re almost finished here, is this what you got for the last formula?” That quickly, it’s dropped. As always when it comes to Kuroo, you’re not sure quite how seriously to take him.

You spend the rest of the evening worrying the situation in your mind. Is it really smart to bring a fake boyfriend to your family gathering? It sounds like the plot of a bad romcom. Say your boyfriend can’t make it, and you know your grandmother will ask for photos, stories, and other evidence you don’t have. Admit the truth, and you may never be able to look her in the eye again. None of them is very appealing, but those are your options.

The next day, you can’t believe you’re really doing this. Sleep deprivation may be a factor, but you’ve decided to take Kuroo up on his offer. After all, you reason with yourself, it will keep Grandma happy. She’ll be absolutely tickled, and you know Kuroo will charm her. Kuroo’s always seemed to love the stories you’ve told about your family, and you know he’ll fit right in with them. Spending the holiday with him – it might not be so bad. In fact, it’s something you might even find yourself looking forward to.

Your afternoon lab is almost over before you work up the courage to broach the subject. “Hey, Kuroo?” You speak up, right as he’s eye level with a test tube and adding a few drops to the solution inside.

“Hm?” He hums, distracted, as you watch him count the droplets under his breath. When he’s finished, he sits back and looks at you, head cocked slightly to the side. You draw in a sharp breath, trying not to think about the sudden twist in your middle.

“Were you serious when you said you’d come to my family’s Christmas and pretend to be my boyfriend?” It tumbles out in one breath.

He barks out a laugh. “Well, yeah, I guess so!”

“I’m not trying to force you,” You insist.

“You’re not,” He assures you. “Wasn’t it my idea in the first place? How am I supposed to turn down an opportunity to eat for three days straight?”

“You have to let everyone think you’re my boyfriend,” You remind him.

“You think I can’t handle it?” He holds out his hand. “Please. I’m in.”

“If you’re sure.” Slowly, you reach out and shake his hand. His grip is firm. This is really happening, isn’t it?

#Haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #Haikyuu fluff #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurou x reader #Kuroo x reader #Haikyuu x reader #hqd fluffmas #queued

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calboniferous · 3 years

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In Theory

Work 1 in The Pen and the Sword aka. my jedi and academics AU

A stressed post-graduate anthropology researcher from Coruscant University enters the Jedi Archives for the first time and is promptly taken under the wing of one Master Archivist Jocasta Nu.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32355310

—

Master Jocasta Nu felt the visitor before she saw them. Stress and a frenetic energy radiated through the force tangled with the unique threads of emotion and colour that made up their signature.

Closing the book in front of her with a soft thud, mindful of its frayed edges, she appraised the blue nautolan hurrying towards her. Their worn brown coat was unbuttoned and struggling to stay onto their shoulders, saved by the strap of the bag hanging off one side which the nautolan had one arm wrapped around. Apparently, the bag’s tie had lost the battle against the tide of flimsy and datapads making the simple bag bulge obscenely.

Ah.

A scholar.

Like the many before them, they had come to Master Nu’s beloved archives in hope of finding salvation in its hallowed stacks. With her guidance, they always did and more often than not, they would return again. And again.

However, this scholar was not one that Master Nu had seen before and as they glanced wide-eyed at the towering shelves, shying away from passing Jedi, she surmised that the Jedi archives were unfamiliar to them also.

They reached her desk out of breath.

“I need books on Kante martial arts and history. Do you have books on Kante? If it has historical martial arts then that would be incredible but I’m setting the bar low. Really, the bar is non-existent. Should I even be setting a bar I don’t know- do you know what the Kante are? Were? They’re extinct”

“Young one, breathe.” Master Nu said, lifting her hand to interrupt the rush of words. Her brow softened in sympathy, “How about you start from the beginning and tell me what your thesis is and then we’ll go about finding resources.”

She signalled to one of the Padawans stacking holopads nearby for them to take over monitoring the main desk and led Tema to one of the many sunlit alcoves tucked between the buttresses.

Settling on a cushion across the low table from the sleep deprived nautolan, Master Nu pulled out her well-worn datapad, ready to formulate a list of texts to recommend for this student’s project. She had gathered quite the collection of such lists over the years and took great pride in curating them. Often, she would continue to add to them in her spare time so that when the person they had been made for returned, it was waiting and ready. And, if Master Nu happened to enjoy the thrill of a hunt for obscure references through her own archives every now and again, that was her own business.

Stylus in hand, she was ready to begin.

“You mentioned martial arts?”

“Right. Yes. I’m studying the fighting style of the Kante people which they used to reclaim their lands 7000 years ago after it was conquered in the Chandrillan Divide. The politics of the reclamation itself have been documented to death but there’s kriff all discussing how they actually fought,”

Master Nu hummed sympathetically, listening as a classic university post-graduate research tragedy poured out in all its glory. The purple shadows smeared under Tema’s dark eyes suggested that more than one night had been lost to this.

It was a credit to her Jedi training and skill as an archivist that Master Nu could write notes, elegant script flitting smoothly across the datapad without misspelling a single title or name, while offering comforting hums and interjecting words of encouragement where Tema faltered.

“So now I need to piece it together myself in order to build a theory on how the Kante people approached battlefield strategy,” Tema finished, fidgeting with their bag strap.

Setting her stylus down, Master Nu surveyed the drafted list with a critical eye. It was a daunting selection. She weighed the situation in her mind and carefully turned the datapad off, placing it down with a muted click of metal on the polished stone table.

“That’s quite the task you’ve got” Master Nu said, “more than an Honours project scope covers.”

She loathed to discourage any scholar but there were limits to the workload that could be shouldered and she had a strict honesty policy. With all her Jedi compassion and experience ad Head Archivist, Master Nu knew how to recognise when a student needed guidance in whittling down their research focus to a reasonable magnitude.

“I know,” Tema sighed, shoulders sagging, “I know but my project topic has already been approved by my supervisor.”

“Dear, your project as it stands is enough to satisfy a PhD and beyond. I can tell you are passionate about it but it’d be a tragedy for you to fail because you tried to complete years’ worth of work in the 10 months you have.”

The blue nautolan wilted a little, head tails curling.

“I don’t see what choice I have. I can’t form a thesis on the merits of Kante strategy without knowing how it worked at the individual level,” they said, resignation colouring their force signature grey with worry.

Master Nu paused, and after a moment spoke.

“Have you considered centring your project on the martial arts itself? At the individual level, as you say. Leaving the rest aside to focus on that should technically be within your project topic.”

Tema blinked, “That’s…that would work. Yes.”

Master Nu watched as they turned the idea over, considering how to approach it.

“Yes. That would make it more of a research-and-reconstruction project. A literature review with practical application.”

They gave a wry smile, “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

Some of the frazzled emotion of their presence eased and a few threads of humour sparked in its wake.

“I could have saved myself from being sick from worry in the University ‘freshers yesterday.”

They flushed a little darker at that admission and Master Nu suppressed what would have been a rather unprofessional snort of amusement as she clicked the datapad back on. Ah, younglings. They never changed.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear. That amount of stress isn’t conducive to clarity of mind, I’d wager,” Master Nu soothed, deleting a few items from the list with a satisfied air, “You’re hardly the first person’s I’ve known to have an adverse reaction to academic stress. Now, I do believe this list is ready.”

Rising with more grace than her age suggested she was capable of, she smoothed the creases in her cream and straw-gold robes and led the way into the maze of columns and shelves. Tema followed a step behind in a manner that to any observers bore remarkable resemblance to a duckling following its mother – if ducklings were six-and-a-half feet tall, that is.

“Somehow I find it hard to imagine a Jedi getting sick from assignments,” they mused absentmindedly, tipping their head to catch some of the book titles they passed, “all this information – it’d be hard to fail.”

Master Nu chuckled at that, passing through an archway into a side corridor.

“I’m afraid it can happen to anyone. One of my agemates routinely emptied his stomach at the prospect of examinations – that one, in fact,” she said, gesturing to one of the bronze busts lining the hall. The metallic features gave the human man depicted a severe expression. In Master Nu’s opinion, it was rather true to life even if the beard was far to neatly sculpted.

“The poor man. Perfection was as much his vice as his virtue.”

She smiled fondly, crows’ feet crinkling with nostalgia at sharing this particular story – at sharing the humanity of someone so proud and distant both in life and artistic rendition.

Tema faltered and the markings on their head tails blanched light blue.

“Oh, uh, my condolences.”

“Hmm?” Master Nu turned to them, “Oh no, he’s not dead. He’s retired.”

“Oh,”

They blinked, nonplussed.

“This way, dear”

The pair continued on their winding path. Master Nu, frequently gesturing to some architectural feature or other with her datapad, began to explain how the Jedi Archival system worked, pausing every now and then to pull a tome from the shelves.

“It is what many have described as ‘archaic’,” she said, stepping deftly onto the fourth rung of a sliding ladder attached to one of the shelves to reach her next target, “but no one—and I mean no one—has said it is an ineffective system.

“At least not in my earshot,” she said with a laugh, pulling the volume from its place and passing it down to Tema. The rumours the initiates (and fully-grown Knights) liked to spread about Master Nu’s draconian defence of the archives may not be entirely accurate but were taken by most as a warning to avoid slandering the archive in her presence. She knew Tholme liked to stir the pot and recount tales of her lightsabre prowess to the initiates, no matter that the stories were thirty years out-of-date.

“That being said, it can take some getting used to. The Padawans and Knight Archivists are always around and willing to retrieve sources for our visitors.”

Master Nu dismounted from the ladder, blew dust from her sleeve, and turned a critical eye on to the stack of books and datapads in Tema’s arms that had been steadily growing in size. The scholar looked strong enough to take a couple more, taking into account that their bulging bag would not fit anything more inside.

“That’s the last one from this aisle.”

She clicked her tongue and marked a check on her list next to the sources they were borrowing. They were all copies, of course, or volumes easily enough to source a replacement that their loss wouldn’t be abhorrent. Nonetheless, clean records made maintaining the collection less stressful on her soul.

On that note, Master Nu was pleased to feel that Tema was no longer pouring stress into the force like an anxious firehose. And—

She stilled, tilting her head as a familiar presence tickled the edges of her senses.

“Master Nu?” Tema asked, noticing her change in manner.

“Nothing to worry about,”

She once again took the lead. Down the aisle, then one aisle to the left and as they rounded the corner Master Nu smiled at the sight before her.

A little blue and beige figure was hunched over a book resting on the floor, absentmindedly gnawing on her Padawan silka beads and completely oblivious to the world around her.

“Padawan Secura! Why am I not surprised?” Master Nu called lightly and the twi’lek girl jerked, breaking from her literature-induced reverie to scramble to her feet.

“I’m not skipping sabre class again. I swear!”

Had it been any other Padawan of Aayla’s age group, Master Nu would think that emphatic declaration of innocence meant the Padawan in question was skipping class. Skywalker came to mind as a repeat offender of that variety.

Only question was that Junior Padawan sabre classes were always on Taungsday afternoons—this afternoon—and had been since before Master Nu was a crecheling. She hummed, unconvinced.

“Knight Kenobi is doing catch-up lessons this week and he said my forms were good enough to skip.”

That explained it. It seemed only yesterday that he’d been roaming the archives as a padawan himself, tearing through histories of the planets he’d visited at Qui-Gon’s side with single-minded focus. Shame that his lineage had picked him up before her own could. He would have made a fantastic archivist despite his record of being convinced to scale the bookshelves whenever Vos got temple fever.

Well, at least Aayla’s fencing education was in good hands.

Master Nu beamed at Aayla, “Then good work padawan and, as you are free, would you like to join us in gathering sources for Scholar Induri here?”

Aayla brightened, “Absolutely!”

And then, remembering her diplomacy training, bowed to Tema, setting her Padawan beads swinging. “Nice you meet you, Scholar.”

She scooped up the book she had been reading and as she put it back in its slot, Master Nu glimpsed the title.

“Reading Bastilla Shan again are we Padawan?”

The padawan blushed, fiddled with her tunic and handily dodged the teasing with a question of her own, “What are we looking for, Master?”

“See for yourself, young one,” Master Nu passed over the datapad, pointing to the highlighted entries.

Aayla squinted at the handwriting for a second before passing the pad back and running away down the aisle, one hand skimming the shelf labels. Padawans were lovely to have around and, watching Aayla slide 4 meters down a ladder and return to them with a grin plastered across her face, Master Nu wondered if she should take another student. Or, better yet, invite her former Padawans around for tea to see if more Grandpadawans would be joining the lineage soon.

“Thank you, dear,” she gave Aayla a pat on the head, “I’ll leave you to your reading. Just don’t forget to remind your Master that he needs to renew the materials he borrowed last month.”

Then, she turned to Tema who hadn’t made so much as a peep the past five minutes, seemingly satisfied to observe the interaction.

“Let’s get these checked out so you can get to reading them.”

Back to the main desk, the archivist and scholar wandered, and a minute later there was a new name entered into the borrowing database.

“Again, thank you for everything, Master Nu” Tema said, gathering the stack back into their arms. They were a little overwhelmed but they were smiling.

“Dear, it’s no trouble. One last thing, are you planning on enlisting someone practised in martial forms in your project? Or were you aiming for a more theoretical illustration of your findings?”

Tema cast their eyes to one side and shifted their weight.

“Ideally, yes, but I have no idea where to find someone like that so…theoretical?”

They trailed off.

“Good. I’m free to ask around here, then,” Master Nu said, tugging Tema’s bag strap so it was in less immediate danger of falling of their shoulder.

“If you need any help at all, don’t hesitate to send me a message or drop by. My archive is always open,”

At that, she tucked a slip of flimsy with her com code underneath the top datapad in the stack and gave Tema a parting pat on the cheek. With hope in their step, the scholar passed back out the archive doors, into the sunlight of the hall beyond.

Content, Master Nu smiled and watched them go.

“Now,” she mused to herself, opening the roster of temple-bound jedi and beginning to peruse the list, “who to ask…”

Her thoughts turned to the bronze bust of a man whose devotion to esoteric research was only outmatched by his skill with a blade.

His legacy…

Her eyes caught on a name. Yes, that would do very nicely indeed.

In the interest of vetting the source she intended to recommend, Master Nu made a mental note to attend next week’s exhibition tournament.

#jedi #jedi culture #fic #my writing #jedi and academics #the pen and the sword #jocasta nu #repost #star wars

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word-addict-lisette · 3 years

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Dear Lisette,

I am back in you inbox, yay! How was your day? How's life? How's school?

I am really mad because we had this piece of work and it was like "pen down your idea on this statement, 'i can do whatever i want on the internet as long as i don't get caught' and i put down my thoughts which were 'this statement is true, i stand by it and you can do whatever you like as long as you don't get caught and don't own up' and then people were like throwing shade at me and i looked at it. I have 5 comments.

My teachers tried to delete it, my classmates literally lectured me and then she read it out loud and the whole class went looking for that one note i made. In the comments, people are spelling my name in caps. It was my opinion, and oh, look all of them are basically hypocrites. Let me just say, these people make me uncomfortable, they don't talk about exactly nice things or approriate things and they are all commenting ( without names too may i add) like "KAT, THAT'S NOT HOW THINGS WORK!" but with my real name and just arghhh.

Also if my teachers wanted me to say, "no, that isn't the right thing to do," or any other answer that the others provided them with, they shouldn't have asked for my opinion. They should have just forced us all to just type the same thing. The other people all wrote like, "no, its unethical and bad" or "False, no, its bad" and stuff like that, filmsy evidence and elaboration. I HAVE MORALS, i am just saying the truth. I feel like the victim of a hate crime. People don't like me enough already, i am a very intresting person, uh, yeah, we are gonna stop there.

Enjoy the rant i guess? I don't know? I am sorry for loading on you but there's a little extra rant so uh, yeah. im just gonna take this out, one sec.

Ok, so uh my teacher was like, next week, we are making pancakes. Fluffy pancakes. It was changed to pancakes without eggs? and now we have to make it ourselves, at home. Where do i get flour? What do i do with the extra flour? I don't know how to cook at all, my partner who has been extremely controlling and like kinda driving me insane, ( ahem i did the whole coursework) also she uses my friend's name for everything? Like, bestie i was literally helping out and you went all, "Oh you don't want (friend's name) to see you burnt right?". Obviously i don't but if i burnt down my house, she wouldn't be surprised. I BURNT MYSELF LAST YEAR, SHE SAW ME BURN MYSELF. Well, my friend burnt me and then the week after that, she burnt herself.

This happens a lot. Also, the very common questions and statements of, "Are you straight?" , "aren't you and (friend's name) dating?", "you guys would make such a cute couple" , " aren't you bi?" and "i thought the two of you were dating," there is nothing wrong with being bi but i am not attracted to her like that. So, they use her for leverage over me to get me to do what they want and also think im dating her? If we were dating, we would both be homeless. I like my house. This doesn't only happen with her. I once got shipped with my brother. I hugged him and some guy was like, "oh you guys like each other," that was awkward. Can i just add, a lot of people like majority of that community know we are siblings.

I also get shipped with his best friend, thanks to a rumor my brother made up. So, sometimes, i would get like comments like, "oh, you like him" or "(brother's name) told me that you and (brother's best friend) are dating," we are not dating. WE ARE JUST REALLY GOOD FRIENDS. I LIKE A FICTIONAL CHARACTER. LEAVE ME ALONE. Also, everytime i have a picture of a guy on my phone or something my cousin just has to tell my brother. THEY ARE STREAMERS. ONE IS OF V FROM BTS SO I CAN TRAMATISE MY FRIEND.

Everytime i cry, someone comes in my room. It is so annoying. LEAVE ME ALONE, I WANT TO CRY. This is why i started reading sad books, listening to sad songs, watching sad movies so i have a reason to cry. There was this once, i wasnt selected to be part of my choir's competition and i was sad about it because i didn't feel good enough. THEY SAID I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH. So, i cried but it wasn't enough so i read the saddest book i could find so i had a reason to cry but by that time, my feelings were gone. This is why i get breakdowns when im overwhelmed because of all this. You know how old i am. I have to deal with this and the pressure of always wanting to be perfect. What else can i do? I am not pretty or smart or talented or have friends, i have like 6 friends and nobody ever keeps me company. So, i focus on being perfect. 100%, i deal with not having any attention because my parents didn't pay me any attention just because i was "independent" or something?

Did i mention, i babysit all my siblings? I am the second child. I baby-sit my older brother. I am sleep-deprived because i can't sleep well at night and i constantly worry about everything and i have to take care of all my friends and it is so exhausting. Yet, i can not cry.

Thanks for staying with me through whatever that was. Uh, yeah, i took the quiz and got chaotic academia. That is my aesthetic. I really want one of those fancy skirts they wear like on pintrest and stuff? Like you know what i mean? The academia skirt? Yeah, i don't have one yet.

Question of the day, what is your dream profession or you could answer my other question which is what would you want to look like? Or you could answer both?

Ok, thank you again. i am gonna go study. Love and hugs and just literal joy sent your way!

- Kat, the ultimate dino mom of Leo, Billy Bob, Jessica, Sophie, Jackson, Sarah, Lily, the Micheals and all her other kids. (Jessica, Sophie and Jackson are mailboxes and Lily is a computer, Micheal is my screwdriver and laptop pencil, there are two micheals.)

Dear Kat,

It's really good to see you in my inbox. I'm sorry for replying late, but exams really had occupied my schedule today and I got my Saturday exam tomorrow. This week is going to be stressful and today's day has been pathetic. I had nothing to do except study and write exams. I feel like I haven't really been social recently and That I'm losing touch with people that I used to be close with and basically I'm letting overthinking take over my mind.

That is so sick. Why is someone's genuine opinion bothering them so much? I totally wouldn't be able to tolerate that. They ought to understand that there is a fine line between a fact and an opinion, and what you stated was just an OPINION. they have no right whatsoever to come at you like that. I totally agree... the teachers ought to have not asked for your opinion if all they desired was a particularly specific answer which opposed the statement. one of the reasons I hate the schooling system has to be THIS. people who are putting comments like that ought to realize that what you stated is exactly what they do in real life. They just want to be seen as the good kid here. At least you have the guts enough to speak the truth.

Miss! You don't have to worry about ranting out to me. You can rant to me for days and I'd still listen. Just go on ranting nobody is stopping you.

Ahhh! I've had that happen to me. I really understand how tough that can be. I really really hate being shipped with someone who I am just platonically friends with like you've got no valid proof to believe that we are romantically involved with each other. I've burnt myself plenty of times too. It's not a pleasant experience. Plus I also hate having controlling partners. Cause all they do is boss you around while they are barely doing a thing. It sucks.

Why? Just why? Why does it even matter to them? Who you date and what your sexuality is, is none of their business. I have no idea why people concern themselves with topics that really don't involve them. It's like people are just ready to make gossip out of anything. A person can't have a bestie without not liking them? I don't get what's so difficult to understand about that. I hate it when I'm casually talking to a guy and people start shipping us and start spreading rumors of us being in a romantic relationship. Another thing they do is, if a person likes me, they automatically assume that I like him back when I've barely even ever spoken to that guy. And yes! I like fictional characters! Don't even assume I like any of you fools cause You idiots bully me and ship me with total crackheads... And my standards are good enough for me to not include you guys in my list of *appropriate candidates* which consists of non-existent people.

Similarly, the moment I'm chatting with some guy, or like have a pic with someone on my mobile phone people just assume that fact that I'm crushing on him. Like no! I don't. We are friends... the others are celebrities, Why can't you understand that? I can't imagine how thick their skull must be considering they can't let a small statement like that sink in.

The crying thingy... I feel personally attacked. Nobody lets me do anything in peace, let alone crying. I literally use the washroom in my room and even my sister comes in there just banging on the door asking me to get the heck out of there and go somewhere else, like can't she use the other two washrooms or what? I like listening to sad stuff and reading angst cause somehow or the other it calms me down... it makes me feel at peace cause I know I'm not the only one who feels like crying. I've got a lot of friends, nobody remembers my birthday, I remember all of theirs'. They don't even text me, It's always me who takes the first step. All my friends just want me by their side cause I'm a smartass they want to show off as a trophy and cause I've got much better sarcasm than them. They just want to benefit from me. That's all. GOD, I'm not pretty at all. I look like a random idiot all the time. I look pathetic. And I lack talent... And you! I warned you, miss! You are pretty, beautiful, talented, smart, friendly, caring, kind and THE BEST!!!

I've never been given attention. Never ever. My sister has always stolen the spotlight. And I hate it. Not even my friends acknowledge me, my parents just ehhhhh. No matter how good I score, No matter how good I behave, No matter what. I'm just never good enough. My parents think of me as a rebellious kid. And I don't know what to do about that. All I've ever done is listen to them. My parents never allowed me to go out and play with my friends when I was a kid, they never let me go on overnight trips, and they barely let me spend time with the few friends I have. They never let me go to outings my school friends planned. Despite that, I never complained. I never had good friends because of that, yet I never complained. A lot of kids my age roam around in shopping malls by themselves, have sleepovers, spend money, roam around with tons of makeup on their faces, are in relationships, and even get into illegal shit. I've never done anything Like that. And yet... I'm never the good kid. I'm still the rebel.

I've got to take care of my sister almost every day. Get her to study, study myself, take care of myself while tolerating my grandmother. I really don't like my grandma, she s very fussy and just keeps yelling around the house the moment my dad and mom leave the house. I've got sensory overload because of her voice. And now I sit and have an anxiety attack almost every time she speaks. I've always got to strive for perfection as well. And I too can't sleep well at night just cause all the worries of the world, keep weighing me down.

Chaotic academia sounds good. It's the same aesthetic my sister got when I asked her to take the test! And oooh! Me too! I love those skirts and outfits they show on Pinterest. I'd love to have them someday.

My dream profession has to be that of a writer. Or perhaps even running a library. just something cozy. Ohh! I'd love to have brown hair, and I'd want to be tall just a little shorter than What I am right now. I just reached my father's height yesterday. And more or less, I'd like the rest to stay just as it is. and perhaps a lighter shade of skin tone. What about you though?

My question for you! If you were to be stranded on a beach island for a week. Who would you bring with you and how would you spend your time there. You can include whatever elements of nature you want to include like forests, lakes, and all.

Sending love, warmth, hugs, and whatever I have to spare that you would like to you!!!!

-Love from Lisette

P.S. That's an interesting family you've got, right there!

#kat the eccentric(indeed)#sweet sweet asks #dear kat #love from lisette #long post

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anistarrose · 4 years

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Summary: Stan finds a recording from a fateful puppet show, a few disjointed memories fall into place, and the Pines family has some tense conversations.

Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines

Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher (posthumously)

Set in early September, probably a little less than a week after Dipper and Mabel went home.

(It felt good to write some Stangst again! Title is from Monster Town by Go! Child because when I can't think of titles on my own, I go to my GF playlist for inspo, and that song jumped out at me today)

***

“We should probably bring a backup camera on the boat,” Ford mused, in a tone that made it impossible to tell whether he was talking to Stan or just to himself. “Maybe even multiple backup cameras. There’s no telling what the Arctic climate could do to their circuitry, and people hardly take cryptid reports seriously even with photographic evidence, never mind with just an eyewitness account and an excuse about a broken camera —”

“Easy, Sixer.” Stan set down his fully-packed suitcase at Ford’s feet, satisfied with its contents. “I’ve got a camcorder up in my room, or maybe in — actually, I can’t remember where I decided to keep it, but it’s probably still in the house somewhere. If I can find it, you can add it to your camera horde.”

Ford zipped open Stan’s suitcase, revealing hand-knitted sweaters and Hawaiian shirts in approximately equal numbers, and sighed. “Some brave wardrobe choices you’re making here. Or have you forgotten that the first beach we’re stopping at is in Alaska?”

“Well, someone’s gotta lead the fashion revolution in the Arctic Circle, and it sure ain’t gonna be you,” Stan called as he headed upstairs, provoking a resigned “hrmph” from Ford.

Stan decided to look for the camcorder in his bedroom first — because while his memory still had some scattered gaps, his gut instincts rarely lead him astray, and checking his room had been his first impulse. Sure enough, he found it sitting on a shelf and covered in slightly less dust than the adjacent stack of magazines, just as he ever-so-vaguely remembered it.

“Better make sure this thing works, before Ford declares it too unreliable for yeti hunts or whatever,” he muttered to himself, leaning back onto his bed and fumbling for the power button. The camcorder blinked to life, presenting an interface that was probably hopelessly outdated — but Stan didn’t care, while Ford would have no way of knowing what modern Earth technology looked like.

What’d I even record on this thing anyway? He selected a random video from June, was greeted with his own voice singing the first line of the Stan Wrong Song, and immediately deleted the recording. With a sigh and silent vow to never let Ford learn of the song’s existence, he moved on to a video from July.

Once again, it was Mabel’s handiwork — heh, no wonder I couldn’t remember what I used this thing for, since the kids were always borrowing it from me — but this time, Stan himself wasn’t in frame, though the craft supplies strewn about the living room were enough to stir dormant memories.

“Dipper! Puppet Dipper! Smile for the camera!”

Dipper yawned, then somewhat half-heartedly mimicked the motion using the sock puppet on his hand. “Puppet Dipper’s not really feeling up to it this morning.”

“Did Puppet Dipper stay up too late trying to solve a mystery? Bwap!” The footage blurred as Mabel nudged Dipper with a sock puppet of her own. “Do I need to make him a little puppet-sized pillow?”

“How about… some puppet-sized sunglasses, for a puppet detective?” Dipper suggested.

“Good idea!” Mabel agreed. “Then no one will notice when Puppet Dipper falls asleep standing up!”

Stan shook his head and smiled.

Man, I wish I’d found this back when my memories were still a mess — Mabel kinda skimmed over the whole puppet saga in her scrapbook. Wonder what else got recorded from that week…

He selected the next video chronologically, noticing that it was also the final recording on the device, and the smile vanished from his face.

“You can’t stop me!” It was Dipper’s voice, yet not Dipper’s voice — all fury and arrogance, and the camcorder’s cheap speaker crackled with static, like the voice was too much, too wrong, too alien to properly record and then replicate. “I’m a being of pure energy with NO weaknesses!”

Without a doubt, Dipper’s body was onscreen, but he was staggering towards Mabel with arms twisted at impossible angles. He lunged for the journal in her hands, eyes glinting the same gold color as the emblem of the six-fingered hand —

Stan hit the power button, rolled over on the bed, and buried his face in his pillow as the wave of memories crashed into him.

Brushing off Dipper’s sorry state as sleep deprivation, until the kid collapsed on the way out of the theater. Seeing the cuts and bruises all over Dipper’s hands as Stan helped him to his feet, and grilling the kids on what happened the whole drive to the hospital. Not getting an answer beyond “sleep deprivation.”

Not being able to give the doctor an answer beyond “sleep deprivation.”

Telling the twins’ parents it was just “sleep deprivation.”

A tense phone call, assuring Mr. and Mrs. Pines that Dipper’s recovery would be swift and tha Gravity Falls was still safe for their children. Stan’s hands shaking as he holds the phone, having no idea if that’s the truth, if he’s doing the right thing.

Mabel crying over a crumpled-up scrap of paper — a note? — she’d found in the car, and refusing to show it to Stan. Half-overheard secrets, whispered between the younger twins when they think Stan isn’t paying attention — apologies, worries, and murmurs too soft to be in any way decipherable.

Dipper, still with bags under his eyes, spending the next few days doing almost nothing but looking over his shoulder and burying his head in the journal. Stan pretending not to notice, but secretly finding it far too familiar for comfort.

Later memories, too — memories of demons, and handshakes, and feeling his body go numb. Memories of a voice, a furiously shrieking voice — both terrified and terrifying, but more than anything, alien.

Now, far too late, Stan recognized it.

***

“We’re calling the kids,” Stan barked, barging back downstairs, and Ford jumped.

“What’s wrong? Are your memories —”

“Better than they’ve ever been, actually.” Stan stormed directly to the living room table, flipping open the laptop on loan from Soos and clicking the video chat app. “Good enough to figure out something that apparently no one thought it might be important to tell me!”

“Are you sure?” Ford put a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “We can still call them, but let’s talk this through first, make sure you’re not missing any gaps —”

Stan paused, cursor an inch away from the call button beneath Dipper and Mabel’s profile picture. “Did Dipper tell you about the time Bill possessed him?”

Ford started to say something, stopped, and tried again. “I… I assumed you knew. I’m sorry.”

“Did you know I ended up taking him to the goddamn hospital afterwards?”

“No,” Ford whispered, and Stan felt Ford’s fingers dig into his shoulder. “Call the kids, Stan.”

Mabel must’ve been online, because she picked up almost immediately. The video opened with her sitting in her kitchen in Piedmont, Waddles in her lap. “Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford! Guess what I —”

The joy drained out of her smile when she noticed her grunkles’ grave expressions. “What’s going on?”

“Mabel, pumpkin,” Stan murmured, trying to tune out the sound of his heart thumping in his chest, “could you go get your brother?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Dipper slid into view, almost falling off his chair, and Mabel scooted out of the way so they could both comfortably face the laptop. “Is something wrong?”

“Not anymore,” Ford explained, “but Stan and I wanted to talk about… communication, among other things — Stan? Are you sure you’re alright?”

Stan wiped the sweat from his forehead and shuddered, forcing himself to take a deep breath as he stared at the computer.

Dipper’s back home. Dipper’s safe. They’re both safe, and they’ll never have to worry about Bill again.

“Stanley?” Ford echoed, increasingly distressed. “Please, if —”

“I’ll be alright,” Stan managed, because even he wasn’t a good enough liar to convince anyone he was alright at this exact moment. “Promise. But kids, why didn’t you tell me when Bill hijacked your puppet show?”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a guilty look.

“Was it because you thought I’d take away the journal?” Stan regretted his ‘only self-defense’ stipulation for the third journal more than almost anything else he’d said that summer, because he’d always known deep down that it wouldn’t stop the kids — and in hindsight, he would’ve much rather known what trouble the kids were getting into, not have them hide it from him with their late nights out in the woods and nonspecific excuses.

“At first,” Dipper replied. “But we ended up worrying a whole lot more about you sending us home early —”

“Your parents almost made that decision for me,” Stan admitted. “They were ready to drive up here and come get you when they heard what happened. I dunno how I convinced them to let you stay —”

He sighed. “And maybe knowing the truth wouldn’t have actually helped me that time — but it would’ve been nice to know how big a lie I was telling when I told them this town was safe for you kids, y’know?”

He regretted voicing that thought immediately, but regretted it even moreso when Dipper looked away from the camera, mumbling: “I’m sorry, Grunkle Stan.”

“Stan’s not trying to guilt you,” Ford spoke up, “but we want you to know you can talk about these things honestly with us — and that goes for both of you, Dipper and Mabel. We’d never want to punish you for something that was obviously… someone else’s fault.”

Thank god one of us has finally learned to think through what we say before we say it, Stan figured.

“I’m sorry too, kids,” he added out loud. “For getting angry at you a minute ago — ‘cause I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at Bill for what he got away with right behind my back, and I… I just…”

He brushed a finger across their digital faces, a gesture that no doubt failed to translate to the video feed Dipper and Mabel were viewing, and smiled. “Thanks for picking up so fast, ‘cause I really needed a reminder that the two of you are safe and sound and all.”

The kids smiled back, visible for just a second before Mabel leaned forward to hug her laptop and the screen went dark.

“Anytime, Grunkle Stan.”

***

“Coffee?” asked Ford, ever the early riser, as Stan trudged into the kitchen the next morning. “You look like you need it.”

“Gee, thanks, Sixer,” Stan groaned, slumping into the seat across from Ford at the kitchen table. “I’ve heard of backhand compliments, but now I’ve gotta live with your backhanded coffee offers too?”

“Sorry. I’m sympathizing, not mocking — I promise, when I woke up today, my eyes were just as bloodshot as yours are now,” Ford replied, sliding Stan a mug of steaming coffee. “How are your memories?”

It was a routine question as of late, but Stan still managed to botch it completely.

“Too good,” he muttered under his breath, and earned a quizzical look from Ford.

“Pardon?”

“…Good enough that I can remember all kinda things to feel shitty about,” Stan reluctantly admitted. “Like not even noticing when Dipper was possessed, for one thing. I spent the whole summer worrying about him, except for when he was actually in danger —”

“Oh, Stanley,” Ford sighed, “that’s not your fault. You know Bill was an expert liar; he scammed too many people to count —”

“Yeah, but I shoulda seen through it!” Stan brought his fist down on the table, and the contents of his mug sloshed precariously close to the top. “Of all people, I should’ve known better —”

“Right.” Ford grimaced. “Right. Because no one else who should’ve known better was ever tricked by a dream demon for a whole lot longer than a few hours —”

“Shit. Ford, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like —”

With a controlled glowering expression and deliberate motions, Ford stood, marching across the kitchen with all the fury and hesitation of a slow-moving thunderstorm.

“I didn’t mean it was your fault! I’d never — ”

“…I know.” Ford came to a halt at the door, bracing one hand against the frame. “But if you can say as much about me, then… then why can’t you just say that about yourself?”

“What?!”

“You would’ve caught on soon enough, if Mabel hadn’t defeated Bill when she did — I wasn’t there, but I’m sure of that because I know you, and I know how well you know Dipper.” Ford shook his head. “I didn’t catch on to Bill’s lies for years. I gave him free reign to hurt people for so much longer than one evening —”

He crossed his arms, and his imposing silhouette in the doorway seemed to shrink.

“So if you’re not blaming me for anything to happen this summer, then you’d better not blame yourself, you — you knucklehead.”

“Are you kidding me?” Stan leapt out of his seat. “It’s no wonder you didn’t see through Bill’s lies, when your whole life, you had me watching your back — and then I wasn’t there for you, when you needed me more than ever —”

“Because I pushed you away!” Ford shouted, whirling back around to face him. “Do you know what I realized while I was trying to fall asleep last night? That if I’d just stood up to Dad when he kicked you out, if I’d just done the right thing for once in my formative years, then the end of the world as we knew it would’ve been averted altogether! No falling for Bill’s flattery, no arguing over the zodiac, no Weirdmageddon! We could’ve had it all, but we just couldn’t live in that better world, all because I convinced myself you were suffocating me —”

“But it sounds like maybe I still am, huh?” Stan growled. “If all I do is just make you furious like this —”

“No,” Ford gasped, all the hostility in his voice and his glare immediately melting away. “No, no, absolutely not! I’m not furious at you, Stan, I’m…”

“Furious at yourself,” Stan accused, “for being even worse than me?!”

“No! Don’t even say that!”

Before Stan could process what was happening, much less protest it, Ford was hugging him, burying his face in Stan’s shoulder.

“Maybe — maybe I am angry at you, after all,” Ford admitted, “but you’re my hero, Stanley. My inspiration. If am angry with you, it’s — it’s just because you’re too damn stubborn to forgive yourself…”

Stan gingerly placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “…Yeah, and you’re one to talk.”

“I won’t deny that,” Ford mumbled. He went quiet for a few seconds, and when he spoke up again, his voice was quieter, yet slightly more composed. “Maybe we need to just… call a truce. Find something positive to agree on. We’re both too stubborn for this argument to end with either of us admitting we were wrong —”

“At least for give-or-take the next forty years,” Stan interrupted, punctuating his words with a bitter laugh.

Ford barked out a laugh of his own, loud and cathartic, and withdrew from the hug, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. “If Dipper and Mabel were here, they would have told us to stop being stubborn old men a while ago. I wish they were here.”

“They’d probably also tell us it’s more Bill’s fault than either of ours,” Stan added. “And… I guess they’d have a point.”

“I can see the logic in that.” Ford smiled faintly. “I’m sorry for making this about me, by the way. You opened up to talk about your own issues, and I —”

“Hey, I made it about you just as much as you did, Brainiac,” Stan reminded him. “…But damn. You think we’ll ever be able to talk about our feelings without shouting our lungs out at each other?”

“We’re still no good at thinking through anything before we say it,” Ford replied, “though I guess we must be getting a little better, since we didn’t even stop speaking to each other this time.”

“Thank god. I’m tired of not talking to you.”

The two of them settled back into their seats at the table, and Stan reached for the morning paper, but Ford spoke up once more.

“I know forgiveness, especially self-forgiveness, can be… complicated,” he told Stan in a low voice, “so maybe I’m biased, speaking as someone who’d rather not grapple with my own personal guilt — but even more important than whether you forgive or blame yourself, I think, is acknowledging that you made mistakes, yet still deserve good things from the universe. And that goes for you and me both.”

Stan took a sip from his mug, pleased to find its contents were still warm. “Good things like coffee, and adventures sailing around the world?”

Ford chuckled. “My priorities exactly.”

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #gravity falls fanfiction #rosalia writes fic

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Text

When your tired after a 16hr shift yesterday so you rant about Sonic and explain why aggressive writing vs. neutral writing helps with sharing ideas

Me and my online Sonic friend talking about Belle. (I’m skipping some dialogue throughout the chat, this was lazily put together lol)

WARNING: It’s long, and it’s a rant. So please note that I’m blatantly aware of how wrong my aggressive, sleep-deprived rant was and that I’m stating “DON’T PRESENT YOUR IDEAS LIKE THIS!” because this is not a healthy nor effective way of sharing ideas.

ALSO, ALL THE MENTIONS OF WHAT I BELIEVE MY FRIEND IS FEELING OR THINKING DURING MY RANT ARE ENTIRELY MY OPINON. If she tells me to delete something or change it I will without hesitation but I find it funny, as I look back, to insert what I think might be going on in her mind XD She might have been oblivious to me but I’ll get her thoughts and change anything if necessary.

It’s also how most trolls and antis and even some ‘not experienced writers’ write their ideas out, and it can be easily avoided by using Neutral Writing Methods. So this is a ‘don’t do this, but try this’ post. Enjoy my badly written, sleepy aggressive rant~<3 (Also, my friend gave me permission to share this lol)

Me: She could be for entertaining little kids. But we already have too many OCs, and they're not 'dying off' any time soon so...I smell a mini-series backup plan...and I don't like what that means for Sonic. And it is cute, sorry, my brain is off the hook right now, I'll keep things to myself cause you may not like what I'm predicting and I'm getting sad thinking about it ;-; so, want to be wrong.

(Friend mentioned “Tinker Bell” spin on name.)

That's precious, but can I get a link to the reference sheet plz? Reference sheets can tell a lot about a chara's functionality if you compare it to the 'needs' of the casts. it can help predict their role. I think she's meant to help but also entertain the kids, maybe planted with a secret. Her goal could be to come back to Mr. Tinker but Eggman abuses that and tricks her into a new robot. I got a weird theory about her but I'll just say that she's probably gonna go a bit dark. But be cute and make the audience go, "Aww, poor thing! She's a cinnamon roll" at first, wonder if they'll equip her with 'happy backstory, tragic ending' kinda thing to switch the usual 'tragic backstory happy ending' but I feel this is a tragic character meant to pull emotion out.

(Friend understands my concerns but mentions there hasn’t been a ‘Bad’ Oc for the comic)

No one sets out to create a 'bad character' especially professional writers like these guys. But what makes a character 'bad' is if you ruin or oversaturate their purposes. If she's a main character that over-shines others with too much story then the audience feels 'betrayed' because they want that screen time for the main casts to express themselves and shine through. That's just an example. When working with IPs like Sonic casts, you HAVE to remember the fanbase is expecting things Do you like my OCs? be honest lol Not from my prompts. There's a specific way to handle a OC that helps the main cast shine and reveals their characters more. AU Ocs help Canon Characters in many ways.

(Friend admits they have not seen my OCs in some of my fanfictions, they’ve only really read my prompts.)

Oh, well, some of my fanfictions have OCs, not Lavinya, she's just a mascot. My Sonic OC that retried XD Sorry, I'm misspelling a lot but I hope you don't mind, my spellcheck sucks and I've given up on it lol Oh, so you don't know Harmony, Ol'Wizzy, and Data?Or the Metal Series? Well, there are specific Ocs that my readers like and they express/compliment the canon characters to where even though they're a main character, they don't intervene with the Main Cast's goals. They actually help. Then everything I'm gonna say won't have much merit so I'll just focus on waiting to see if my predictions for Sonic IDW will come true, but I really hope they don't do what it looks like they strategically might be pulling... I hate SEGA marketing-

(The beginning of my aggressive rant, please note that I’m not thinking about my image and am writing tired and lazy. This is an example of how NOT to express your opinions in negative ways. It doesn’t influence good at all.)

Their ploys are outdated and frankly, do not work for their IPs market. They target the wrong age group, they have no idea how to organize themselves, and they don't have a leading 'elder' so to speak (just a professional among them) to make good calls. So you have young adults (not super professionals, this might be their first real company job) trying to target internet culture and failing their IPs. They're doing outdated Nintendo tactics that only worked for NINTENDO! Also some other companies that have DIED so why are you copying their marketing strats!? stop! lol

Friend: Did you study marketing because this entire convo kinda flew over my head in terms of understanding (This should have indicated to me that my words were coming off too factual and had too many ‘jargons’ going on. I was losing my ‘reader’ through my rant, but my tired brain would not cease!)

Sonic's trying to morph into something he's not and they're following outdated college course books and it's not gonna help... they're leading Sonic further down and the creators in japan have no power cause all the power is in the stock holders who are stupid money-hungry americans who have lost faith in American SEGA leading SEGA of Japan to move on to other things

Friend: mostly just got you don’t like the marketing (Huge red flag! This means my friend is starting to tune my info out, it’s because I’m presenting my ideas in a slightly aggressive writing style. There are trigger words here that lead an reader to start doubting you. This is why, in most of my answer posts, I make sure to write Neutral writing methods, but I’ll mention that more after my rant lol XP)

It's just bad. Lol I have a Frankenstein degree, (Now I’m justifying myself, which was caused by my aggressive approach. If I simply stated this in a more ‘neutral writing method’ then I wouldn’t have to worry about creditability claims because I’m not trying to sell my idea as the high authority on it.) which means I have knowledge on many different fields. I never took a fully -dedicated- 'marketing class' I took a lot of different communication classes that went to my overall major. One was directly about how you present, sell, and look at marketing tactics. So I have my fingers in many different fields, my major was "Creative Writing for Fiction and Film with an Emphasis in Video Production and a Cluster in Theatre Arts." So I can be on camera, off camera, post and pre production, creative table and actual filming. Does that make sense? (I’m not fully awake to realize what I’m writing, but it’s clear at this point I’m starting to wake up and realize I’m ranting and tossing my ideals of how to present ideas out the window, but let’s watch my follies and learn from them, shall we?) I have theories on what SEGA is going to do, and I have my worries because it's all outdated. It worked for older companies but those companies also targeted a varying audience, which SEGA refuses to see themselves as for a 'teenage audience' which is exactly why they boomed in the 90s. Their target audience is now 20s.

Friend: There are Kids who also like Sonic, even if they don’t play the games though. (Due to my aggressive tactics from not thinking clearly about, not just the what, but the HOW I’m writing, it has turned my friend into a ‘contrasting neutrality’ which is amazing by the way that she did this! She noticed my writing was turning aggressively ranting, and being my friend, didn’t want to be rude about what she was noticing. -I’m guessing lol- so instead, she took the commentary approach, which is to state the good as well. This is a terrible position to put your reader into, and you should make sure to always have good examples and good praise mixed in to contrast any opposing or aggressive statements you ever make. -though you should avoid aggressive writing at all times- Sadly, this does put the reader, in this case my friend, in a very vulnerable position. It leaves them open for attack... but thankfully, she’s a wonderful friend and had trust that I wouldn’t hurt her on her counter-follow-up.)

So instead of using their 40 to 50 year old charts, start with looking at early millennial trends and desires. They tried for 'angst' to 'adultify' Sonic but it busted because we are STICKLERS for animation. Because their story was so scrapped together and had no actual character depth, motivation, or even emotional growth to develop for future game lore, they went for the 'easy made game' (Easy baked oven quote lol that’s just mean XD) We loved the trailer, it was well made, but they threw their animators elsewhere and made the programmers (WHO BLANATLY ADMIT THEY DONT KNOW HOW TO DO STORY/GRAPHICS) and made them do things they aren't trained in. Those micro-head movements and mouths took them A LONG TIME to figure out.

(My friend is now agreeing with me several times through my rant. This is a tactic that is used as ‘avoidance’ but also for ‘appeasement’. She’s probably tuned out by now, but respects what I’m saying but is also incredulous at it as well. It’s fair, I’ve cornered her into my sleepy-time rant, and being the lovable woman that she is, she is simply waiting for me to realize my follies lolol I wish she would have told me but I think she knew I was beyond ‘logical reasoning’ at this point and was just letting me get it all out lolol What a good friend TDT)

Animation can't be learned that fast AND expect them to program a game AT THE SAME TIME. Sonic Forces was a 'split up SEGA' trying to get those who survived and said, "Yeah, I'll stay in this job." to do things that THEY AREN'T EVEN TRAINED IN. you put a game programmer on animation and some other stuff they didn't know what to do with and expect it be a top-notch seller.

Friend: (in more attempts to join in and be a ‘participant’ of the conversation I’m clearly dominating -MY ABSOLUTE BAD- she tried to engage normal conversation flow into the discussion again. At this point, she probably did notice I wasn’t my usual self, and just decided to play along and enjoy the ride lolol I’m just guessing this tho, but it’s a good chance to reflect on what ‘wrongs’ I was doing and what ‘rights’ she was doing during this situation ;)b) My big issue with SEGA is that they rush everything. A lot of things would’ve been better if they had the proper time.

That was resolved actually.

Friend: Oh? It was? (Although this looks like an encouragement, it’s actually just another avoidance tactic to help me ‘get the venting out’ but it’s clear she’s not fully onboard anymore. When you write to discuss, you have to leave room for other’s opinions to shine through as well. Healthy conversation doesn’t mean forcing the other person to comply to you. A lot of this is educated guess based on past research, she knows this, and it’s clear she’s got her own research. Please remember to never shoot someone down when they try to engage you in your conversations. But again, this is the ‘don’t do this’ and me upset at my tired self for not waking up fast enough to contemplate how I was coming across in my wordings. Let’s continue to investigate and dissect the train wreck, shall we?)

That was an issue a few years ago but SEGA is taking their time, it's just that they can't organize themselves and hire the right professionals. They have old tactics, they have rookies that aren't 'Fresh Blood with professionalism' like they need. They don't need an old fart who knows his stuff, they need a new guy who is dedicated and passionate about their company who will remain there, learn them in and out, and knows his stuff SPECIFICALLY for the things SEGA needs. You have to grow that. You have to hire a very talented and young spunky and fresh professional, have him work with you for 10-15 years, and start training others. But SEGA is already recognized as a 'established' company.

(Friend is still agreeing with me, but is aware of my way of presenting it isn’t “As nice as I usually present it” so she starts mentioning the symptoms of Japanese Work Culture. A wonderful, insightful point to mention! But let’s see how I butcher this as well...)

It's not Japan though! (Again, shutting her down. Tsk tsk, sleepy me. Wake up, you lazy bum.) They won't let Japan interfere! They're all really rude to japan actually. The guys in charge, anyway. We all respect the officials, but SEGA of America people just want results. They are just funders, they don't actually work the company.

Friend: So you blame them for everything? (She’s trying to help me see that my writing is coming off as ‘hate’ which is because of my aggressive writing follies I’m doing so bluntly. Let’s please all admire my friend’s patience as she lets me rant and kindly waits for me to realize how bad I’m handling my 16 hr shift from yesterday lolol)

Look, business is really unfair, and I get that, but if I have to rant (I’m starting to wake up more, oh goodie.) I'd say they really need to humble themselves and ask Japan to please take ownership again. They kicked out people due to a money crisis but they need a game that will be 'safe to secure money but get enough excited momentum to help us push on and continue.' which isn't Japan's strategy usually. Japan likes risks, they also like money too. They trust America too much (especially in the beginning) because America is a HUGE consumer. For the world in fact. But I think they sacrificed too much for the company (common in Japan) and trusted America too much in making decisions. The officials are too nice to say that America screwed them over because America wanted full control. Well guess what? They have too much control now and their product is sinking..

Friend: You’ve got a lot of fire about this topic. (After I completely disregarded reading her follows-ups and continued to rant, my unconditionally kind friend finally threw in the towel, realizing I was no where near my usually ‘present’ self and was probably just flopped back in her chair smiling at my idiocy of not understanding her kind and subtly hints.) Go ahead and rant it out. (BOOM! Obvious right!? I should have corrected myself but at this point, I was writing like wild fire with droopy, waking up eyes and didn’t even read it during my long paragraphs...)

Sonic won't ever fade away due to it's fans, but the company is struggling to figure itself out for YEARS now. I just worry what they plan to do next. But I have a theory that they are really putting the next game in Japan's hands, a lot of activity is happening in SEGA of Japan, and they're spending WAY MORE TIME on the next installment of Modern Sonic (or Classic, still unsure which one it is yet.) I really think they need a remake game to give them profit, then use that profit for their next big installment. But so far, I think they are working on a game BUT corona might have effected production so I'm sure they are working but I'm concerned if Corona helped manage 'time and quality' or is helping to ruin it...That I can't investigate yet :( I just wish for the best (I’M FINALLY WAKING UP FULLY AS I STOP AND REALIZE-) Sorry for my rant! My theory talk showed through and I don't usually like doing that so forgive me. I'm tired and that's why T-T

Friend: It’s cool we all need to rant sometimes. (My friend’s going to make it to Heaven TwT she’s so kind.)

(Then I profusely apologized a billion times cause I realize how badly this all went down. lol)

(But the terror hasn’t ended... she mentioned some youtube videos mentioning other opinions as well. -which I’m usually cautious of cause some of them can be fanon.-)

OHhhh did he mention the arcade crash??? the literal WORST event in SEGA history??? That's literally where they sank the titanic, SEGA has never recovered from selling off their stocks. (I’M BACK AT IT AGAIN. -facepalm-) Shareholders are everything now and it's the biggest loss ever. Also, the problem is that kids don't play the games, (Rereading my follies and wanting to answer but still only just waking up...) but SEGA can't figure out why they like the characters and can't seem to take the FREAKIN' TIME to learn their lore. (Overwhelming the conversation again.) My easy steps: Re-establish Sonic lore CANONLY AND CORRECTLY, Re-gather the Japanese Officials original plans and notes, guides and study art, Re-make some popular games with the most details on Animation, Fluidity of motion graphics, and with modern Technology incorporated into the game. Once that is accomplished, they will have enough money to then- Create a continuity. Only with a flowing story and relevant past lore can they start moving forward. Animation will target their audience, Story and character re-established arcs will bring nostalgia and new blood to the field of their games, and then Japan's influences will keep it authentic for the continuities so we don't have fandom mixing with canon NEARLY AS BADLY as before anymore. Ugh, it does matter their sales, but I literally bought a book on the history of SEGA, and read a really compelling history article about more then just the Console Wars... I know SEGA has survived literally the edge of extinction on multiple fronts, but someone needs to take charge of their Sonic branch, and it's... it's just too outdated. kk, sorry for the rant.

Friend: (After being multiple times ignored, even after my brief moment of clarity, is still an angel. Frustrated, maybe, but an angel.) And your steps sound really good. Also mostly just listen to his vids if you ever do. It’s ok we all need to rant. (THE WORLD DOESN’T DESERVE THIS GURL T-T)

I'm tired so my 'angry' is showing and it's not professional XD do you mind if I post my rant? lol Actually, no. (Realize how awfully I delivered my ideas, this is where I begin to see my errors and where the clarity comes into play. -we all have our off days lol- )

Friend: Go for it

I want to but it's too aggressive. I'm too lazy to rewrite it out so I'll just save that for another day XD You got a rare treat

Friend: (This is actually interesting and fascinating to her. But she realized then that I finally did see my error.) Concerned you’ll get aggressive responses back?

Honest opinion is sometimes too blunt and I need to be careful about that

Friend: I mean it’s always good to try and get most of the anger out so you seem more professional (Saint. Literally. A saint. She’s puts up with too much of my crap XD)

That, and also the war of 'But this is Cutegirlmayra? She's so sweet and constantly puts her answers in supportive, positive lights so that if SEGA were to see it, they would feel empowered to try it instead of threatened and throw it off as hate or something unprofessional.' I have an image too. I can't post something super aggressive or I'll lose trust. You're right.

Friend: I’m glad you put a lot of thought into everything you post

I apologize for it tho T-T I didn't mean to dominate with such opinions...lol I worry who I influence, you know?

Friend: Most people don’t and trust me they get into trouble cause of it. And yeah.

I don't want to create trolls or heated arguments. I want to teach people they can safely express an idea without using such awful communication. Exactly, it's professional fanism. lol Positive writing is what companies and their employees actually read. (I’m almost fully awake now lol, realizing my blunder and starting to explain why I was in the wrong. Good on me, pat on the back, admitting I was coming off as aggressive is the first step to changing and getting better lolol Also, I’m including her more, and I’m saying “You’re right.” and she’s going “And yeah.” which is a indicator that the conversation is slowly returning to an enjoyable and healthy one. ;w; happy endings lol) That's why I skip the aggressive stuff, even if it's passive, I write in a neutral setting so everyone feels safe to read, even someone who works at SEGA.

Friend: (Mentions some nintendo youtuber rant and also news as well, then says-) It was honestly very professional sounding and not rude. (MY HEART, YOU KNEW THAT WAS AN AGGRESSIVE RANT lololol So nice to me TDT)

Lol you had to have seen how slightly aggressive it was tho. (I’M CALLING YOUR BLUFF, BESTIE lol) You literally asked, "You blame America for it?" which is not always true but semi-true. They were way too prideful (Aggressive word) and haughty (Still aggressive terminology) about their success in other Japanese products that they wanted to completely change Sonic to their own wishes, pushing out Japan's creative "licenses" (I use this word loosely, and this gives a slightly aggressive feel but is also more dumbed down so it's more 'passionate' than just aggressive)

Friend: Yeah I saw it was slightly aggressive (Either is starting to realize it or at last admitting it now that I am fully aware of how I was coming across. I also used indicators to show what words were aggressive to help illustrate my point. This is showing I’m much more awake now :)b)

Gotta use those neutral tactics or no one will feel comfortable just reading your idea and instead, will constantly look for a place to intercept with aggression back, whether they agree or not, they're looking for ways to self-insert their aggression if you are also aggressive. I can't write something that doesn't somewhat support and uplift SEGA of America. Why? Because like I said, they literally have survived EVERYTHING and have stuck around. Without them, there wouldn't be an American branch and the money issue would have ended SEGA. Some might say, "But they've done so much harm than good! Why is the money thing such a thing to be praised for?" But it's huge, it's so big, it kinda does offset the wrongs. (Now I’m doing the healthy thing, doubling back and mentioning the good to try and recover. The damage may be done, but she did recommend some videos for me and was polite, so I’m just trying to smooth things over and leave on a ‘wrapped up’ conclusion. But... I should have just left it there in all honesty xD Some things you can’t double-back and correct lol) America is a great business-influenced mindset. None of us would be fans of Sonic without them.

(Friend continues to agree but realizes I may slip into ranting again. She just asks if I can watch the videos.)

America does have it's advantages in some fields and areas, but their biggest most redeeming quality is that they saved SEGA which gave us our biggest love and obsession: Sonic. Now, my usage in that writing was still off neutral, but combined with the slightly aggressive statements, made a GREAT contrast. It's still slightly praising

Friend: And they stopped Japan from giving him a human girlfriend right away.

Me: Exactly.

Friend: I will always thank them for that. (She’s still a sweetheart, working herself into the conversation so it stays healthy. lol Such amazing follow-ups too!)

So although I don't like what's happening, I'm also grateful... to a degree lol We need SEGA of America, which is why I think Japan just ignores them now lolol they know they owe them a lot.

(Friend mentions videos and as I go to save them to my ‘watch later’ sees that one of them is about Nintendo.)

Yeeeahhh I've noticed that Nintendo is starting to trail into 'cash grab' tactics and that's sickening (MORE AGGRESSIVE WORDING??? HAVE YOU NOT LEARNED YOUR LESSON CHILD?! It takes time to fully wake up lolol) cause before, I literally thought, "Nintendo can do no wrong" their marketing was ON POINT! but the stuff they said about Peach and now... I think new, unprofessional blood (like SEGA) has entered Nintendo and the older guys are either 'training' or 'retired to other ventures'. Nintendo is having it's own 'we used to not be prideful but now we're getting a little too pompous (Another aggressive wording... This can easily trigger people to comment with further aggression either against you or for you, but no aggression is the ideal. Which is continuing to show my lack of remaining conscious lol) about ourselves' and they're starting to act like Disney before their big crash. Disney also had 'limited time offers' with their VHS movies. Now, Nintendo is doing that. They'll make money, but at what cost? When you lose your costumer's trust...

Friend: And yeah the 35th Mario thing immediately reminded me of the Disney vault

Me: Yep. I'm worried for Nintendo. Don't get me wrong! Disney is really good with money grabs, but they... they also act high and mighty (More aggressive statements, wake up, darn it!!!) and their fanbase literally calls them 'an empire' so the fan-trust is gone. That makes you 'lame/outdated' and fans begin to look for 'what's cool?' instead.

(Friend is now re-realizing I’m ‘in and out’ so is trying to use a effective avoidance tactic by asking about different things to help my ranting fully stop.)

Sorry, I'm tired, I get on these rants and I don't mean too. (Trying to shake myself awake again.) I'm sorry.

So we returned to a healthy conversation, but I hope this interesting insight has revealed how to and what not to do about Aggressive Writing. Always stick to Neutral writing if you can, putting in a compelling counter-argument. In this aggressive writing demo, you saw that I tried to cover up my follies by saying counter-praise, but praise writing can be just as bad as aggressive writing. Passive writing can sometimes be annoying (aggressive word choice) too if you come off as disinterested or uncaring, which can still result in negative comments coming at you, or someone overly praising in their writings.

This has been all I’m showing you cause it’s kinda embarrassing ^^; but I hope it helps you in what ‘not to do’ while writing your ideas out :)b

Learn from my sleepy-time mistakes! lol

#cutegirlmayra #aggressive writing #what not to do #sonic #nintendo #marketing #sega #commentary #rant writing #an example to help teach #sonic the hedgehog #sonic idw #sonic comic #sonic rant

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mini-moongi · 4 years

Text

R E D || ten

Movie night is a very sacred ritual that started amongst you three, a bond that must never be broken. It was jungkook’s idea to start it when you were all itty bitty high school freshman. You can still vividly remember the first time you all went to his house and watched “High School Musical 2.”

Overtime, that ritual came with a set of rules. The most important rule that you should never break, stems from the one time you invited your first boyfriend over. Young, naive, and douche-y, your first boyfriend got a little too handsy with you. He kept trying to make out with you, and even suggested a foursome. Jungkook didn’t even know what that was!! Taehyung had to get him to leave, and you broke up with him the next day; you were appalled at the events that took place. Ever since then, the rule has always been kept like an oath. Up until now, that is.

“Making us have wet hair was bad enough,”Jungkook dries himself with a spare towel as he speaks,” but you also had to pick the Shrek series tonight? Why can’t we watch that new superhero movie?”

“Shrek is a fucking masterpiece, right Taehyung?” You retort. You expected a bombardment of evidence to back up your claim, but Taehyung was on his phone. “...Taehyung?”

“..Yeah, Shrek rocks..” He mumbles out, completely enraptured by whatever was on his phone.

Usually, by now, Taehyung would have enthusiastically backed you up on how Shrek was a one-of-a-kind cinematography with a heart-wrenching plot. His uninterested attitude caught attention, and you wanted answers. Something was up, You and Jungkook were about to get to the bottom of it. You and Jungkook exchange questionable glances, giving each other the same look that parents do right before they explain where babies come from. You speak first. “Taehyung? What are you giggling at on your phone? I swear if you’re watching porn--”

Before Jungkook can start being bad cop and interrogate further, there’s a knock at the door. Your brain reels back to when your first boyfriend was at the door and it makes you uneasy. “...Did you order takeout?”

“Something like that.”

You open the door, really hoping that it’s just a delivery guy who’ll leave as soon as he came. Standing before you, however, is none other than Jung Hoseok. He grins from ear to ear saying,” Y/n!! It’s so good to see you again!” He’s holding a bag full of takeout and boba. He notices your grim expression, and his smile falters. “Are you okay? You’re looking kind of pale. Maybe I should’ve brought some medicine with me..”

You’re quick to disagree with a shake of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jungkook’s face. His jaw is clenched and his arms are folded across his face. You look at Hobi’s bright eyes, and you find yourself unable to turn him away. It’s not like you can just tell him to go home.. Jungkook’s face is unreadable when you open the door wider and let Hoseok in.

Taehyung comes up and envelopes Hoseok in a bear hug. Jungkook sits stiff on the couch unmoving as Hobi gets settled on the sofa. You hesitatingly make your way back to the couch, and slowly sink into the cushions. You feel like a traitor; like you just let the murderer into the house.

You’re bracing yourself for the worst, not even looking at anyone in the eyes. In an attempt to disarm the bomb, you fumble with the remote. “In case you’re wondering, Hobi, we’re watching the Shrek series.”

“Oh?” Hoseok nods in approval,” I didn’t know you liked Shrek. I actually thought we’d be watching that new Superhero Comedy movie that just came out.”

Taehyung’s face lights up, and without hesitation, he says,” Yeah, that’s a great idea! How about we watch that one instead?”

Your grip on the remote tightens as you start to delete the words from the search bar. You start typing in the name of the new movie when Jungkook finally speaks up.

“Are you going to introduce me to.. him?”

Taehyung acts like he’s just noticed the younger one for the first time that night and replies,” Sure. Jungkook, this is my coworker friend Hoseok; Hoseok, this is my roommate and pal Jungkook.”

Hoseok is excited, and he says,” Yeah! I’ve only known him for like a couple of weeks, but we’re totally best buddies now. You’re a lucky man, Jungkook.”

The rest of the conversation blurs because Hoseok mentioned the words you didn’t want him to. His overly friendly nature set himself in the trap.. The clock on your wall is deafening in your ears, and you can see Jungkook practically fuming.

“Kim Taehyung. Hallway, now.”

As you see them disappear, your brows crease in worry and guilt. You can hear them full of hushed whispers and low voices. You look to your right and see Hoseok taking a sip from his boba drink. He tuts his chin towards the hallway, silently asking what’s wrong. It’s not an easy thing to say that they’ve been fighting for weeks, so you keep your mouth shut and look away, too ashamed to meet Hoseok’s eyes again.

Jungkook is the first to emerge into the living room. He doesn’t even look in your direction before he grabs his coat and leaves through the door. The seriousness of this matter weighs on you, and you’re quick to stand up and follow after him. Hobi grabs your wrist this time, really wanting to know what’s happening. “I’ll tell you when I come back, okay? Just.. Just sit tight. Please.” You whisper to him.

You find Jungkook outside of the apartment complex.

“...Hey.” You approach him softly. His fists are clenched and when he faces you, you notice his eyes have gone puffy and red.

“I’m...” Jungkook walks closer to you. He rests his forehead on your shoulder, and quiet sobs are heard amidst the busy city life. “..I’m going to go out for a bit. Is it okay if I sleep over at your place when I come back?”

You nod,” Over course.”

“Please tell Hoseok that I’m sorry. You know I’m not usually like this..” He starts to wipe the tears from his eyes. He gives you a final goodbye before he blends in with the crowd.

You take the elevator back up to your apartment complex where Taehyung is leaning against the frame.

He’s silent, thinking wordlessly to himself. His arms are now crossed, and his smile is gone. He looks at you,”I’m going to go home early.”

That’s the only thing he says in his period of silent brooding. Taehyung slips past you and into the elevator where you once stood. You know he’s going to his apartment complex, which isn’t very far, but it still pains you. They’re fighting over personal issues right now, so you can’t really help. All you can do is stand there and watch as the metal doors close on your friend, who never really dealt well with these things.

This will be the first time the movie night trio will be alone.

You sullenly walk back to your place, and open the door. Hoseok has started to gather his things, yet he smiles when he sees you. The painful aching in your chest is too much, and you find yourself in Hoseok’s arms. Rythimic circles on your back and soft hushes fill the empty apartment as he holds you. “..Can we still watch a movie together? I’ll explain what happened, I promise.”

“Of course, baby.” Hobi guides you back to the sofa,” Take your time.”

────── ☽. ✧₊∘ ──────

[Soulmate! AU]

Yoongi is a famous artist trying to rekindle a childhood memory, but your dumbass doesn’t remember him at all; except as a fan ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

R E D masterlist

A/N: I know this is a Yoongi x reader and it’s extremely Yoongi deprived rn but please bear with me;; I’m also planning to name this series “RED” so that it’s less confusing amongst other posts.

Prev // 10 // Next

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yakumtsaki · 4 years

Photo

Welcome, dear readers, to Part 2 out of 3 of the Union Comeback Season Premiere Episode (title under construction, part 1 here). Right off the bat, let me just admit what everyone is thinking, yes, mass-deleting default replacements was clearly a huge mistake. Looking good in the heart boxers, boys, especially Jojo! Very on brand and not at all ridiculous. On a lesser but equally annoying note, our windows have suddenly turned red while the exterior AND interior of the house are purple. Dark days ahead..

..but not for Goro, who has returned home since running away and is immediately being kicked out again. Good to see you Goro, now pack up your shit, D’vorah won the cat heir position so it’s time for you to move to Melody and Daniel’s farm.

-Well I’m a cat so I don’t have any possessions to pack.

Thank you for providing an example of why you lost the cat heirship via this painfully boring reaction to the news of your defeat.

-No, he’s right, we cats don’t have any possessions to pack.

Omg D’vorah shut up. How on earth you boring flops are Alegra/Ronroneo’s grandchildren AND Sophie’s children I’ll never understand. I’m this close to making Maxx the cat heir and he’s not even a cat.

-Correct, I’m a dog.

Worst group of pets e v e r.

Oh look who autonomously woohooed for the first time in a century, I guess those base game heart boxers were simply too hot to resist. If one of you gets knocked up a week away from elderhood I’m gonna have a meltdown the likes of which the world has never seen.

-For the love of God, can we get some privacy here?

I’d love nothing more than to give you two bozos eternal privacy by never looking at either of you again, but the headmaster is here for Wulf so put some clothes on-

-WHAT THE FUCK. Why do we keep getting new headmasters instead of the ones we’ve already terrorized into submission?? Now we have to ‘show BJ a good time’ and ‘maybe we could give BJ a tour’, I’d honestly rather give BJ a bj and get this shit over with, I’m tired of threatening headmasters with murder. Hopefully it doesn’t come to sexual favors but if it does, Wyatt, you’re up.

-Pourquoi moi???

Pourquoi toi still haven’t gotten promoted and toi sleep 22 hours a day, it’s high time toi pulled your weight around here.

Good, that’s the spirit.

-Bonjour, monsieur Headmastér! I wòuld introdûce yoù to Wûlf but hé is très busý with unpàid çhild labόr.

-Haha, what a hilarious joke, Mr. Union!

-Alright Cinderello, after you’re done cleaning the flooding shower you’re going to need to jump out the second floor window and go study in the crypt, so the headmaster doesn’t see you and ask you any uncomfortable questions about whether I acknowledge you as my son. I have to go help your father charm our guest by giving my trademarked speech on how I never got impregnated by aliens and what a blow it was to humanity’s future.

-Ok Mr. Jojo!

-For the last time Wulf, it’s not ‘Mr. Jojo’, it’s ‘Mr. Union’. God.

-Ah hello there Headmaster BJ, apologies for my lateness, I was tucking little Wulf in bed because I definitely acknowledge him as my son. As I do all 3 of my children and not just Cyneswith. Ask anyone! But not Wulf or whatshername.. I want to say Shenar? Anyway, now that that’s been cleared up, what are we talking about here? The fact I never got impregnated by aliens and what a terrible blow it was to humanity’s future? I assumed as much.

-Haha aliens?! Well you are just a family of crack ups, does your son share this amazing sense of humor?

-Oh yes yes he definitely does, and he is definitely OUR son, that’s exactly how I view him as well, not solely as Wyatt’s offspring just because he appears to not have a drop of my DNA. I mean who even cares about that? Not me, that’s for certain. Yes, Wulf was just telling me the funniest joke while I was reading Cinderella to him before I put him to bed-

-Man, it’s so hard to concentrate on math with a broken leg from jumping out the window and Grandpa’s disembodied head floating around.

Grandpa’s disembodied head??

OH FUCK KOMEI

-What?

Nothing! Looking good! The decision to delete default replacements didn’t affect you in any way!

-Thank god, have you seen Vic with that base game hair? Talk about scary.

Yes, talk about scary indeed. Do you happen to know if the matchmaker performs the occasional exorcism?

-No idea.

Well she hates me anyway so that was solution was dead in the water. I have to go back to the headmaster fuckery now, but I want you to know I’m really sorry for what Salome did to you.

-Sό, monsieur Headmastér, the όnly tràck reçord which est bettér than the όne we havé with bébés wόrking, est the oné we havé with our animàls rûnning awaý!

-Oh my.

-He’s joking, he’s joking Headmaster BJ, we’re both excellent pet owners and excellent parents, if you’ll excuse me the phone is ringing-

-Cyneswith darling! An adult bartender is calling for you and he has the Komei face! You might be 14 but he’s clearly future husband material!

-Be right there, daddy!

-Alright, I think I’ve seen enough here.

No you haven’t! Wyatt, take off your robe!

-No need, I’ve made up my mind..

-..you’re obviously a perfect match for our school!

What the hell? How? Even by our standards we legit didn’t do shit.

-Headmaster Jitmakusol left a very distraught letter regarding your family before he was institutionalized, the gist of it being it is pointless to try and keep you people out of the school, and his successor should simply ‘roll with it’.

Well ok then! Pleasure doing business with you, BJ.

-The pleasure was all mine, please don’t ever contact me again.

We’ll make sure to be in touch.

In the meantime, Komei has recovered his body!

-Why me? WHY ALWAYS ME? CYNESWITH IS RIGHT THERE

-Sorry honey, we play poker for it every night and Victor won dibs on Cyneswith.

-That’s right, the first one to scare everyone gets ghost-bingo!

Are you fuckers playing ghost-poker or ghost-bingo?

-It’s a hybrid, we have a lot of time on our hands, being dead and all, so we developed an overcomplicated gambling system for our scares.

Yea ok congrats Victor, now can you fuck off before you actually do kill one of the kids?? They have 10/10/9 energy, they literally never sleep.

-No can do, if you actually kill someone you get Yahtzee!

How many fucking games are involved in this bullshit?

-We told you, we have a lot of time on our hands. SUCK IT VICTOR, I WIN FOR THE NIGHT

Win for the night? Who cares about that, you have Wyatt cornered, go for the Yahtzee!

-Oh, but you said our games were bullshit!

That’s before I realized Wyatt was awake for his allotted 2 hours per day non-sleeping time. Wyatt istfg bro, are you half French-Arab and half panda?

-Pandàs eàt for 14 hourès idiόt, ne pas slèèp.

Well look who knows a suspicious amount about pandas now! Almost like he’s descended from them.

Oh good, everyone’s favorite couple simultaneously has the day off. How about I take you two out for a nice date at Londoste since you’re about 55 years old?

-How about hard pass on that architectural monstrosity of a restaurant and we hang out for 6 hours in our front yard instead?

-Oui, oui! Très blanc garbagè of us!

Well at least we’re not forgetting our roots.

Alright then, we’ve crossed into white trash territory unironically with the yard pda and we’re also freezing to death, how about we take this inside?

-Non!

-Yes, non indeed! I love how frozen your hands are, dear, it’s like you’re a real corpse!

Oh my G-

-Catch me, Creature!

-Je t'aime, dr. Frankènstèin!

Ok, new suggestion, how about instead of going inside we visit a nice church?

-How abοùt you lôôk awày, pervertir!

Bold words from someone doing Frankenstein roleplay, and I’D LOVE TO, but the kids are at school and the animals are sleeping, so there’s no looking away from whatever the fuck this is.

Oh thank god, Cyneswith is back from school and ready to cockblock her parents as always. First time I’m genuinely happy to see you, Cyn.

-Straight A’s again! Ah, we may only have one child but she is THE BEST. Wyatt dear, come here to congratulate Cyneswith and further inflate her ego. Wyatt?

-Why is he ignoring my straight A’s, daddy?!

-Ugh, he’s probably jealous since everyone is jealous of you, darling. Pay him no mind, let’s go inside so I can give you the diamond tiara I got you for your birthday.

-But my birthday is in four months, what will you get me then?

-A throne to go with it and anything you want from Sihara’s and the other one’s rooms?

-They have no rooms, remember? They both sleep in the crypt.

-Right, well how about I act like I got them presents, give them to you and make them watch as you unwrap them?

-Aw daddy💗

-Je ne pas fèèl bien..

Yes, you’re dying, so it’d be some real Frankenstein shit if you did feel bien.

Is this Komei-clone bartender serious, first he calls while the headmaster is over, now he calls while we’re dying, FEEL THE FUCKING ROOM PAL

..and there we go. RIP Wyatt, it’s been sorta ok having you in the fami-

-WTF HOW ARE YOU ALIVE

-HA. I lièd, I AM hàlf pandà and mon beàr gènes protéct moi!

GODDAMMIT I KNEW IT. Is that why the one child you gave birth to is your exact clone?

-Oui! Wulf est 1/4 pandà, et toi wènt et namèd him WULF.

Well, to be fair, not a lot of famous pandas I could have named him after even if I knew.

-Toi çould hàve namèd him Pandà!

Oh man, Panda Union does have a nice ring to it, especially next to the other names.. ~Shajar~, ~Cyneswith~ and PANDA. Thanks a lot for depriving me of the opportunity by withholding your genetic info.

-Je think Wulf est ontό it..

Onto the fact he’s 1/4 panda? I highly doubt that.

Yea nevermind, he knows.

Oh great, Shajar has brought yet another uggo with a culturally appropriative hairstyle home from school.

-That’s what you get for letting her out of the crypt.

Give it a rest, Jojo, we’ve had enough of your incredible parenting to last us 10 lifetimes at this point.

-And then it goes: I send the thunder from the sky, I send the fire raining down, I send a hail of burning ice, on every field, on every town! I send the locusts on a wind, such as the world has never seen, on every leaf, on every stalk, until there's nothing left of green! I send my scourge, I send my sword, THUS SAITH THE LORD🎵

-Great, thank you, Shajar, for singing the entirety of the ‘10 Plagues’ song from The Prince of Egypt 27 times. I’m really sorry but I have to go home now-

-It-was-nice-to-meet-you noogie!

..Shajar, please, PLEASE see a doctor.

-My sister Shajar may be super popular, spoiled and beloved-

WHAT LMAO

-but I have the friendship of animals and that’s all that matters!

Yea, Cyn, no offense, but it feels like you’re trying to cultivate an underdog Disney princess persona for yourself that is the exact opposite of actual family dynamics around here.

-What makes you say that?

Your tiara and throne vs Shajar sleeping in the crypt come to mind.

-So to be an underdog you need to be a loser?

I mean narrative-wise kinda, yea.

-Message received.

No, no that wasn’t a message-

-Yes it was and I got you, loud and clear.

Oh god.

-WHAT? YOU’RE REJECTING ME BECAUSE I’M TOO PRETTY? MY HEART IS BROKEN! I DON’T THINK I’LL EVER GET OVER THIS

-Uh, who are you again? Shajar invited me over, ordered a pizza and has been hiding in the bushes for 1 hour waiting to noogie the delivery guy.

-I CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT I’M HEARING! I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO SING ABOUT THIS IN AN ENCHANTED FOREST FOR ABOUT 3 AND A HALF MINUTES

Jfc, where are the ghosts when you need them.

-Mommy has dibs on you tonight, Jojo!

-Mom please no! Your hair is so damn hideous! Just stay in your urn until the default replacement has been put back!

-Ah excellent, I have upgraded my robotic abilities up to cleanbot level!

That actually is excellent, I really want us to fire Kaylynn.

-Cleanbots don’t change cat litter.

..UGH then why even bother, Jojo? The cat shit is 90% of our problems, make something that fixes that or stop wasting airtime with your nonsense. Istg some people.

-Alright sis, how about we go out again tonight and ~play the field~? If I get rejected by a couple more mean boys I can earn my underdog princess badge!

-You are so stupid, Cyneswith, if you want to earn your underdog badge all you need to do is board a doomed ship, Titanic style, and then give the floating door to someone you’ve known for a couple of days while you selflessly and pointlessly drown in the freezing ocean despite the fact you could take turns sharing the door.

-But then I would be dead.

-I know right? Everybody wins. Let’s go get you some tickets.

Yea, let’s not, but let’s get out of here because the ghosts are out of fucking control and you two aren’t sleeping anytime soon.

-Shaj-and-Cyn-in-da-club noogie!

Shajar FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, ENOUGH.

OMG IT’S SOPHIE MIGUEL. SOPHIE MIGUEL IN THE HOUSE

-Whaddup dildos, ‘tis I, Sophie fucking Miguel, the meanest townie teen there is. I’ve only taken 4 steps into this place and I can already tell I’m surrounded by a bunch of beta turbocucks.

SHAJAR GO TALK TO HER!!!!!

-HEY BITCH, I’M NOT A BETA TURBOCUCK, I’M ALPHA AS FUCK. I’M NAMED AFTER SHAJAR AL-DURR! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO THAT IS?

SHAJ WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, WHAT IS THIS APPROACH

-Of course I do, the first Mamluk Sultana of Egypt. Nice.

OMG THAT SHIT WORKED. LAND THE PLANE SHAJ

-Ohhhhhhhh😍 Do you want to talk some more?? Do you like the 10 Plagues song from the Prince of Egypt???

-Nop, as suddenly as I came into your life, I’m dramatically getting the fuck out for no discernible reason, cause that’s just how I roll. Gone with the wind, baby! I’m like an outdoor cat. You’ll never see me again.

-Oh but I will..

YES YOU WILL SHAJ. I’m so on board this particular Titanicesque crackship that it’s un.real. I mean Sophie Miguel literally came into this place, talked to Shajar for less than one minute and then left the bar entirely, in turn leaving us dick in hand. What.an.icon.

In the meantime Cyneswith.. did this. Game-changing night for everyone!

#gen 2 #ts2

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tokidokitrash · 4 years

Text

I’ve never written a fic before (ok maybe when I was like 13) and I was just struggling a little mentally tonight. It’s a Long rambling off the Top of my head and it’s not gonna be any good but I tried. I would appreciate any constructive criticism you’d shoot my way.

It did help me feel better after writing this, so that’s a silver lining:D

I know the mysme fandom is kinda not as strong as it used to be, but reading other people’s fics really brightened my day, since I’m always on my own due to work.

I had this set as a longer timeline compared to the limited days in the game, and my MC clearly struggles with her own inner depression demons,

Sorry in advance about some stuff further down. I couldn’t help myself.

Italics are either MC’s thoughts or flashbacks.

———————————————————————————————

The way we are - 01

Dreadful, depreciating thoughts slowly crept their way into your thoughts, almost like they bore down on the back of your tightly shut eyes.

‘Not this again...’ you mentally scold yourself.

It had been a few weeks since your last battle. The constant struggle you fought deep within you- one only you knew about.

No one knew. No one could ever know. No one would be able to accept you. No one would be able to help either ways.

You curled yourself into a little huddle on your bed. The air-conditioner wasn’t on, leading the air to a standstill. It was suffocating, the stagnancy. But honestly, you couldn’t be bothered with the discomfort.

‘Stagnant air... stagnant just like my life has been...’

You chastised yourself again, me talking rolling your eyes at yourself, this time for being such a dramatic little bitch in your own little mind.

You hated yourself.

Things were actually getting better these past few weeks. You had the RFA and managing their affairs kept you solidly occupied.

Truthfully, that fateful day you encountered them, and they laid out the opportunity to you to help them be their new coordinator, you mentally leapt with joy at the chance.

Yes, the whole thing was pretty fishy, bogus, weird.

But you’d craved and relished the idea that you could be of some help to a greater cause. Your heart soared at the thought of being of use to someone.

It did come as a plus that the members of this new group were all such...unique personalities.

The lively, dramatic, narcissistic but caring Zen.

The adorable, innocent, wide-eyed Yoosung.

The strong and (seriously) overworked Jaehee.

The stern, calculative business man with the strangest streak of humour, Jumin.

And the mysterious hacker with the flaming red hair, the one whom you’d always felt you could ‘click’ with best, the one you were most attracted to,707.

In their own way, they lit up your life, the way they seemed to always be concerned with your wellbeing, peppering your day with their funny arguments and conversations.

Then shit hit the fan, didn’t it?

It had already been a few days since the whole ordeal with ‘Unknown’. It’s events still played fresh in your mind, but yet right now, they seemed so very far away.

Seven had come to your rescue, but since that day, he’s been anything but a knight in shining armour.

Before the incident, you both had so much fun through the limited calls to each other and the chat.

You felt warm feelings towards Seven blossom in your chest every time you heard his voice. And with the way he seemed to flirt back with you, you had the slightest impression that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in you too.

It felt so nice to banter with him, to feel some sort of electric connection between you two.

But these days, it seems that the happy-go-lucky, capable 707 was gone.

The other day, he even lashed out at Yoosung, who called you, distraught and crying over the incident.

You’ve tried to be strong, you understood that whatever transpired that day must have triggered Seven towards reacting this way. Constantly pushing you away, harshly berating you for leaving his sight, then berating you once more for coming too close to him. You wanted to be here for him, to let him know you cared for him more deeply then he knew and you’d accept and like to hear his story. You’d like to think of yourself as capable of helping provide comfort and reassurance to this beautiful mess of a man, despite whatever attitude shocking revelations of danger he may throw at you.

The key word here, is that you ‘tried’.

And sometimes, life gives you so much lemons, you get really sick of fucking lemonade.

You haven’t really left the room for about...maybe 2 days now, you estimate. Only sneaking out for essentials when you didn’t hear typing and it seemed that maybe Seven was asleep. Wallowing in your self-hatred, you think about the things you’ve wanted to accomplish and how you’ve failed them all.

Dammit, even the man you were so into seems to hate you now- and why shouldn’t he?

Depression had sinked her filthy claws into your heart once again, and though you may have won that battle against her before, you knew, deep in the recess of your mind, she was always waiting to crawl back out.

You hated every fibre of your being. Some days you’d wonder why you were even alive. What did you exist for? Even replying the emails from potential guests seem a chore too monumental right now. Why should they care about your invites? You’d ponder over what to send them, then delete everything you’ve typed out of fear you were being out of line or plain stupid, giving the RFA a bad name. Then you’d start to hate yourself more for letting the guests wait on your reply, get more upset with your own inefficiency. It was a vicious cycle in your mind, and it was always tough to break out of it.

You’ve managed before, and kept a happy persona in your interactions with the members. And that’s what you tried to do for Seven, even as he was scowling away, brows scrunched up in frustration at either his computer, or your mere presence. Either way, he let you know you were an annoyance he couldn’t be bothered to entertain.

And you started believing him.

So you’ve locked yourself away in your room. This was your problem to deal with. Your demons to face. You found a small comfort in hearing Seven typing away in the living room. It was odd, but knowing he was there made you feel safe...but so unwanted.

‘Come on MC... you’re a tough girl, so tough this one out. Yes you’re pathetic and there’s nothing more you hate in this world but yourself, but snap out of it.... please... happythoughtshappythoughtshappythoughtskittenspuppies..seven’svoiceandjokesandthoughtsoftakingyoutothemoon...’

Growling in frustration, you pull the pillow over your head and tried to scream into it, only to end up sobbing uncontrollably. Why were you like this? It’s so illogical...so, so stupid.

If only you could force yourself to be happy and cheery.

But admittedly, Seven’s attitude and coldness towards you really shut that cheery side of you down, faster than you’d like to admit.

You recall the freshest wounds he had inflicted upon you... you had tried to talk to him, as he seemed a little nicer that morning, despite being extremely sleep deprived, giving you a nod when you brought him coffee, and didn’t tell you off when you went to sit near him. You had wanted to express a little gratitude for how hard he was working for your sake.

—————

“Hey, Seven... thank you for working so hard fo-

‘“I’m just going to stop you there, you don’t have to say anything to me. You can just leave me alone.”’

“Aish~! I know that~! You’ve said that before, I just wanna thank you- you’re going to hurt my feelings you know” you pout, trying to stay light-hearted.

He takes off his glasses and rubs his temples upon hearing this. Sighing loudly, he adds;

“I don’t care about how you feel at all. I can’t be bothered if you’re hurt. I’m busy and don’t have time for this, so stop bothering me already!”’

“ I just-‘

‘“ just leave me alone.”’

You weren’t sure what made you decide to do this, but you whine quietly, feeling defeated, and perhaps this was actually a last ditch attempt to see if he cared.

“Seven...I’m going to start crying if you keep being so mean to me..”

He pauses, then he shifts in your direction,stony faced, cold liquid gold eyes bearing into your own brown eyes.

‘“Even if you cry, it doesn’t really matter to me.”’

Hearing that, you flashed him the best smile you could manage, hoping your pain wasn’t too obvious, muttered a few apologies and excused yourself to your room.

————-

...you were scared too, after the whole incident. But it seems he truly did not care about how you felt, like he hardly gave it any thought. like you were only a problem he had to fix ASAP to get a move on his life.

——————————————————-

Hours had probably passed when you jolt awake to a knock on your door.

“Oi, MC.” he starts in an annoyed tone “Are you okay? I tried calling you but your phone is dead. What are you doing in there for so long anyway?”

You weren’t sure what time it was, but you knew it must have been quite awhile if Mr cold-and-I-don’t-care-about-you was checking up on you. The room was dark, air still stale. Picking up your phone, you realise you haven’t checked it since the start of your mental battle. Yes, it was dead.

“MC?” You thought maybe you picked up a hint of worry though all that irritation this time. “.....I’m coming in.”

‘Wait what? Nonono did I lock the bloody door? He can’t see me like this I-‘

You bolt up from the bed, nearly tripping on your sheets as you rushed for the door, but you were a beat too slow, and the door was already ajar before your hand could touch the handle.

Golden irises pierce your gaze as your eyes adjusted to the invading light from outside your room, he pauses for a moment and his eyes seem to widen in shock at the sight of you...and your probably very disheveled appearance.

Hurriedly, you press your body against the back of the door, holding , preventing it from opening any further.

“MC?!” He called as he tried to peek his head past the door’s opening to get a better look at you.

You cleared your dry and raspy throat before finally replying the redhead-

“AHHHHh Seven! Geez, don’t you know that you’re supposed to give a lady more time to respond?! You can’t just open doors so suddenly you gave me such a start! Nearly let you see me all horrid looking after taking a nap ahaha ha”

Good lord you hope you sounded convincing, and not at all like you’ve been crying for the last godknowshowlong.

Seven goes quiet for a moment, and the tension in the air still hangs over you two. You notice one of his hands shift and holds onto the door frame as he steadily starts to push the door towards you. Trying your utmost best but failing to be lighthearted, you yelped and tried to swat his hand away, still fervently trying to push the door back against his force.

“Holddddup what are you doing Seveny stop trying to open the door! Didn’t you hear what I said???”

“I heard you. But I said I’m.coming.in.”

He pushes the door harder and you know you’re no match for his strength, and in a last ditch attempt to hide your appearance from him you grab a large towel you had hanging behind your door, wrap it over your head, letting it drape down your shoulders and dash for the corner of the room behind the door. You squat down, huddled in your new corner, and you hear Seven cuss when the door gives way easily at your absence, causing him to stumble into the room. Hearing him cuss a bit more, you sense his gaze sweeping the room, before feeling them land upon your huddled up frame at the corner. There’s a long pause before he quietly asks, incredulously

“..........MC, wh-what are you doing over there”

“I told you I was indecent looking now.... so I’m just going to stay in this corner since you so rudely barged in.” You quipped. Your choice of words may sound harsh but you say them in a sing-song manner. Seven just stays quiet after your reply, which leads you to ramble on, hoping to fill the silence

“So, uh, what’s up? Did you miss me? Come here cuz you’re missing little old me? Ahahhaha or did you manage to find something about this whole....shenanigan? Anyways a-aren’t you busy and all? I won’t bother you anymore so y-you don’t have to worry about me either ahhahaha...hahahah”

I sound insane.

You hear him sigh loudly, again, and it kind of reminds you of how your parents used to sigh at you when you were a disappointment. He mutters under his breath sometimes that’s sounds like ‘fucks sake’ and it cuts you off from your ramblings. You can’t stop the tears from springing to your eyes. You were still hurting, still wallowing. Trying to hide whatever negativity by being weird and using your own brand of humour. And now he was real, in your room and invading your space, you could feel your mind trying to come up with something, anything to avoid possible questions and maybe get him to leave.

“What’s all this? You’re being real weird now, hiding in that corner. I’ve seen you after your naps and you don’t usually look like....that. Turn around and face me, MC.”

You take a deep breathe through your nose, your way of stifling your sniffs from new tears,

“Ahhh you’re so indelicate, I can’t turn to face you, so uh why don’t you just wait outside and I’ll come out when I’m ready?”

“And when will that be? Talk to me MC. Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

No shit, Sherlock.

“Yaaaa Please God Seven, have mercy and give this lady a chance to *sniff* prep herself first”

You could almost hear him rolling his eyes at you, when he says

“Get out of the corner before I drag you out. Seriously, what are you even doing? “

Given his snappiness, you wouldn’t be surprised if he acted out his threat. But his question gave you a chance to exhibit your messed up coping mechanism.

“What am I doing? Fine, I’ll tell you. I’m not hiding myself, I’m prepping for my next cosplay.”

“HAH??” In a very, very annoyed tone.

“Here, look. “

In that moment, you slowly turned your body to face him, and put your hands down on the floor, still in a squatting position but with your hands between your knees. Towel still draped across your head and shoulder, you whisper in a low, slow voice,

“E.......Ed........Edward.....................Nii-san”

“..............’’

“GODDAMMIT MC “

Seven’s loud, booming shout really startles you, as you realise he’s left the room. You started to worry you’ve made him real angry this time, and wait for more cussing and shouting.....only to hear cussing and...laughter? His laughter grows, and soon he’s bellowing, and the raucous peals of laughter is music to your ears actually. Even though you’re still hurt from his words and demeanour, you’ve come to realise the effect this gorgeous man has on you, and it warms your heart a little that you’ve managed to make him laugh for the first time in a Long, Long time. He’s still cackling when you waddle towards the door, still covered mainly by the room’s darkness, peek out at him but with your body still in the same position.

“Hey man” you catch his attention and he stares at you, wiping tears away from his eyes “that’s not cool- that scene wasn’t funny at all in the anime-god you shouldn’t be laughing at this.”

Seven has his hands on his knees as you send him into another mini laughing fit.

You stay like this for awhile, feeling a little better after making 707 laugh, despite it not being your original plan at all. You hoped he’d have forgotten all about how you looked and how you ardently tried to hide from him the fact you’ve been a mess these last 2 days.

Now it just feels a little bittersweet. This whole thing is quite similar to how you’ve always dealt with hiding your hurt and pain from others, and a teeny, tiny part of you was sad that you felt the need to hide your feelings and emotions from the guy you adored.

Deep down, you wanted his comfort, but yet, was too afraid to seek it out.

You were now convinced that Seven perhaps truly had no feelings for you other than just as a ‘member of RFA’.

“Anyways...god Seven?”You whispered quietly once his laughter completely dies down. He looks up, having taken off his glasses to wipe his tears again.

“Ah?” He mutters breathlessly, looking at you through his fringe.

You realise you have it real bad, as this sight of him makes your breathe hitch a little and your heart beat faster. You will thoughts of him away as you continue

“I’m going to go and wash up, then um, head to bed now....“ you shift your hands to grip the towel’s ends, making it cover more of your face. Seven seems to notice how tightly you’re gripping the towel, and patiently waits for you to speak as your struggle to find the words.

“..I’m sorry about the other day, today. Well. Everyday. I hope you feel a little better... good night, okay? Take care of yourself, Remember to eat and sleep and I’ll just be here I Guess an—“

you stop yourself. You were rambling again. Pointless rambles. You forced a small smile, internally dying as you were now telling yourself to give up these feelings, bid him good night once more, and gently shut the door.

—————————————————

I’m sorry about the joke again. I had the idea and I couldn’t put it down.

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vminni · 5 years

Text

Do I Know You?

Jisung was tired.

He’d been up most of the night working on a new song, completely forgetting that he’d switched shifts with Hyunjin and would now be working mornings at the coffee shop.

The mornings were a lot busier than the mid-afternoon shifts he was used to working, and even though he’d downed four cups of coffee, by the time the end of his shift was drawing near, Jisung was practically the walking dead.

“Jisungie?”

Jisung lifted his head from his cupped hand where, no, he had not been napping, and blinked at the boy in front of him.

“I didn’t know you worked here!” the boy gasped, obviously thrilled to see Jisung.

Jisung stared at him, his sleep deprived brain failing to put a name to the smiling face in front of him. But the boy clearly knew him, so Jisung did his best to lace familiarity into his voice as he answered, “Ah, yeah, I just switched shifts. I used to do afternoons.”

The boy pouted slightly, “No more Hyunjinnie in the mornings then?”

“Nope, sorry.”

“That’s okay,” the kid offered Jisung another bright smile. “I get to see you now.”

The more Jisung looked at him, the blanker his mind went. He couldn’t conjure a name and, if he was being honest, he didn’t even recognize his face. And he had a great face. Jisung was sure he would be able to remember a face like that, even when he was half dead.

“So, um, what can I get you?” Jisung needed to get the boy out of here before it became obvious that he had no idea who he was.

“Just a medium iced Americano please.”

Jisung tapped it into the register and then, feeling guilty about not recognizing someone who very clearly knew him, deleted it, “It’s on the house.”

The boy withdrew the hand that had been holding a few bills out to Jisung and raised his eyebrow, “Really? Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Jisung hurried away from the register and quickly made the drink, pressing it into the boy’s hand when he returned. He noticed that there was a slight tinge of pink to the other boy’s cheeks as he took the drink, and the smile he offered Jisung this time was a bit softer, a bit more intimate.

“Thanks, Jisungie.” He took a sip of the beverage and gave a little wave as he backed out of the small cafe, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

When Minho collapsed into his seat next to Woojin in their morning lecture, he dropped his head onto his friend’s shoulder and moaned, “I’m the dumbest idiot on the planet.”

Woojin didn’t disagree and Minho lifted his head slightly to glare at him. Woojin rolled his eyes and took the bait, “Okay, fine. What happened?”

“Jisung happened!”

Woojin blinked at him, “I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that one.”

“So, you know Jisung, right?”

“I do not know Jisung,” Woojin said slowly. “I have heard of Jisung. He makes music with Chan sometimes.”

“Yes, right, him,” Minho was now sitting up fully, his head no longer on Woojin’s shoulder. He looked frenzied as he attempted to explain. “I saw him tagged in a photo on Chan’s instagram once and he was super cute so I kinda went to his instagram to look, just the once, and before I knew it that turned into looking at his instagram all the time and checking his twitter and listening to the music on his soundcloud…”

“You’ve been stalking him, is what you’re trying to say.”

Minho smacked him on the arm, “Not stalking! Just checking up on him. Occasionally. Okay, more than occasionally. Quite often.”

“Continue.”

“So I went to the cafe that I go to literally every morning, except Hyunjin wasn’t behind the counter today. Jisung was. And I maybe sort of forgot that I don’t actually know him. And I said his name. Out loud. To him. In a very excited tone.” With each word, Minho sunk further and further down into his seat, nearly on the floor as he finished, “So then I had to act like I actually knew him, because why else would I be enthusiastically yelling his name in a coffee shop? He went along with it and was really friendly, but I could tell he was trying to place me and coming up blank, but I couldn’t just be like haha sorry you don’t know me, I’ve just been stalking you on social media for three months, don’t worry about not recognizing me.”

“So you are stalking him.”

“Shut up,” Minho grumbled. The professor entered the classroom and Minho sat back up, pulling out a notebook so it looked like he was actually do something. He spent the whole class with his earlier interaction with Jisung on a constant loop in his head. The more he went over it, the more he cringed.

He was such an idiot.

“Hey, Hyunjin, how well do you know the regulars?” Jisung’s shift was finally over, but he had some information to gather before he could go home and crash. “Like is there anyone you know by name?”

“A few people,” Hyunjin finished tying his apron around his slim waist and glanced at Jisung. “Why?”

“There was a guy today,” Jisung fiddled with the strings of his own apron. “He knew your name. So I thought maybe you might know his.”

“What did he look like?”

Jisung had always been awful at describing people and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force an image of the boy into his head, “Um, really pretty. With brown hair and a little freckle on the end of his nose. He was wearing a striped button down.”

“Minho.”

“Minho,” Jisung rolled the name over his tongue. It was common, but unfamiliar in his own life. He didn’t know any Minhos.

“He is into dudes, if that’s what this is about. I also happen to know that he’s single.” Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair and jerked his thumb towards the front of the cafe, “I have to get to work, but if he comes in tomorrow, I say go for it.”

“That’s not why I was asking,” Jisung called after Hyunjin as he left. It wasn’t, but it was helpful information nonetheless. Maybe Jisung had met him at a bar once, or a club, or a party thrown by mutual friends. Jisung’s memory was awful when he was drunk.

Even though he was still unable to place him, at least he had a name to go with the face now.

Jisung was wide awake and ready the next morning when Minho wandered in. It was fifteen minutes into the start of Jisung’s shift and he hadn’t expect to see the other boy so soon, but he was happy he wouldn’t have to spend the whole rest of his shift on edge, waiting for him to come in.

“Good morning, Minho!”

The shock that rolled over Minho’s face had Jisung wincing. Clearly his performance yesterday hadn’t been as convincing as he had hoped. Minho must have realized Jisung didn’t recognize him.

“Same as yesterday?” Jisung chirped, wondering if he should apologize now for not recognizing the other boy. He decided not to. Not until he figured out how he actually knew him. Then he’d set things straight. “Medium iced Americano?”

“Yes, please.”

Jisung made the drink and slid it across the counter to Minho, waving away the bills when Minho tried to pay. He still felt guilty.

“You can’t keep giving me free drinks, Jisungie,” even though he was protesting, Minho put the money back in his pocket anyway. “You’ll get in trouble.”

Jisung just shrugged, “It’s okay. You can start paying again tomorrow.”

Minho took a small sip from his drink before he gave Jisung a slight smile, “Thanks.”

Jisung bit down on his bottom lip and came to a decision. Maybe if he talked to Minho enough, he’d get a clue as to where he knew him from, “I’m glad I switched shifts. Since it means I get to see you now.”

Minho choked on his drink, coughing loudly as Jisung scampered around the counter. He placed a hand on Minho’s back and rubbed soothingly, concern flooding his eyes as the other boy tried to get his breathing back under control.

“Sorry,” Minho gasped, voice raspy from his fit. “Went down the wrong way.”

“No worries,” Jisung removed his hand and stepped back. “You good?”

Minho nodded, clutching his coffee close and staring at Jisung with an expression the barista was having a hard time reading, “I’m good, yeah. I, uh, I have to get to class.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Minho’s cheeks were red as he parroted the same words back at Jisung before turning and practically sprinting out of the cafe. Jisung watched him go, lips pursed.

He still didn’t have the faintest clue how he knew him.

Minho was warming up, his hands gripping the foot of the leg stretched out in front of him, when Hyunjin crossed the studio to come sit beside him.

“So,” Hyunjin dropped into a butterfly, his forehead touching his feet, “did Jisung ask you out today?”

Minho switched legs and watched a deep blush work its way up his face in the mirror, “What? No, why would he do that?”

Hyunjin sat back up and shrugged, crossing one arm across his chest and hooking his other elbow around it, “I don’t know. He asked me for your name yesterday. I figured he wanted to know cause he had a thing for you. I told him to go for it.”

“While your attempts at playing matchmaker are appreciated, I’m pretty sure Jisung does not have a thing for me.” At least that explained how he knew Minho’s name this morning. “What did he say about me? When he asked?”

Hyunjin switched arms, “He said you were pretty, had brown hair and a little freckle on your nose. And that you were wearing stripes.”

“He said I was pretty?”

“He actually said really pretty, but I didn’t think you needed that much of an ego boost.” Hyunjin spread his legs and held his hands out to Minho, waiting as Minho copied him and grabbed them. They took turns stretching. “I didn’t have a lot of time to talk cause I had to get to work, but I told him you liked dudes and that he should totally go for it. Maybe he’ll ask tomorrow.”

“I don’t think he’s going to ask me out,” Minho released his hands from Hyunjin’s and stood up, rotating his torso as he did. “He just wanted to know my name because I knew his.”

“He might ask you out,” Hyunjin stayed on the floor. “He’s bi.”

“He’s not going to ask me out,” Minho hurried across the room, dropping down by his bag and taking a long swig from his water bottle .

“Not with that attitude he’s not,” Hyunjin called after him.

“Earth to Jisung,” Chan waved his hand in front of the younger boy’s face and he startled, blinking back to reality. There was a concerned look on Chan’s face, “Is everything okay? You’ve been really distracted tonight.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jisung ran a hand through his thick blonde hair, sighing as it flopped back over his forehead. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Jisung considered it for a second. Chan was extremely friendly and outgoing, and seemed to know almost everyone on campus. It was possible he’d met Minho at one of Chan’s parties. At the very least, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Do you know a guy named Minho? Brown hair, freckle on his nose, likes to wear stripes?”

Chan nodded, “That’s Lee Minho. He’s a junior. Dance major. Is into dudes, if you’re interested.”

“Why does everyone assume I’m trying to get in his pants?” Jisung huffed. “Do you know if we’ve ever hung out? Like at one of your parties or something?”

Chan gave him a weird look, “How would I know if you’ve hung out with Minho?”

“I don’t know,” Jisung turned back to his laptop and the song they’d been working on. “Forget it.”

“Why are you asking?”

Jisung spun his chair back around, “I switched shifts at the cafe where I work. Now I do the mornings. And he came in the first day and called me by my name and clearly knew me. But I can’t remember ever meeting him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings by letting him know that I have no idea who he is, so I’ve been trying to figure it out on my own, but I haven’t come up with anything. I probably met him drunk at one of your parties and forgot about it.”

“Maybe,” Chan turned his attention back to his own computer. “I’ll ask him. I won’t let him know that you can’t remember, but next time I see him, I’ll find out.”

It had been two weeks since Jisung switched to morning shifts, and Minho still wasn’t used to the bright happy smile that greeted him every time he went to get his coffee. Surprisingly, Jisung was still playing along, acting as if he actually knew Minho. They actually begun chatting a lot and sometimes Jisung’s banter even crossed into the flirty zone. He was comfortable around Minho as if they were actually acquaintances and Minho wondered how much of it was just an act. Minho kept the act up on his end as well, too embarrassed to tell the boy that they had never met before that first morning at the cafe. He was honestly hoping he would never have to explain.

Minho was on his way back to his apartment after his morning class when an arm fell across his shoulders, “Long time no see, mate.”

“Hey, Chan.”

Chan’s eyes dropped to the half empty coffee cup in Minho’s hand and he hummed lightly, “Is that the shop where Jisung works?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know Jisung anyway? We were hanging out, working on some music the other night, and he mentioned that he’s been seeing you a lot now that he switched shifts. He never told me how you know each other though.”

Chan’s arm suddenly felt very heavy and Minho laughed, hoping it came across as breezy and casual, “We just know each other from the cafe.”

Chan frowned at that, his eyebrows drawing in, and Minho knew. He knew Chan knew that wasn’t true. Jisung must have asked him to fish around.

Luckily Chan didn’t question him and Minho ducked out from under his arm as the cafeteria came into view, “I have to go, sorry. I’m meeting some of the dance guys for lunch.”

Chan nodded, but Minho could tell his mind was a million miles away. Cursing himself for being stupid enough to yell out Jisung’s name that first day, Minho pulled out his phone and started searching for other coffee shops in the area.

He could never go back to the one Jisung worked at. Not if he wanted to keep any of his dignity.

Since the day Chan had informed Jisung that Minho said they met at the cafe, Jisung hadn’t seen Minho around. He’d stopped coming in every morning and Jisung was confused.

Why was Minho saying they’d met at the cafe, when he’d clearly known who Jisung was before that first morning? Was he embarrassed about where they’d met? Had they drunkenly made out at a party and he just didn’t want to admit it to Chan?

When Hyunjin came in to relieve him, Jisung figured it couldn’t hurt to ask, “Has Minho been coming in during your shifts? I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

Hyunjin shook his head, “He’s been in class, but I haven’t seen him around here. Maybe he’s cutting out coffee.”

“You have class with him?” Jisung hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought. “Could you ask him something for me?”

Hyunjin shrugged, “Yeah, sure.”

“Ask him if he’ll meet me here. Tomorrow morning, around the time he usually comes in for coffee. I’m off tomorrow.”

“I knew you wanted to ask him out! I told him!” Hyunjin looked triumphant. “I told him so many times.”

“I’m not...whatever. If that’ll get him here then, yeah, sure, it’s a date.” Jisung scribbled his phone number on a napkin and held it out to Hyunjin. “Give him this too.”

“You guys are going to be so cute together,” Hyunjin reached out and gave Jisung’s cheek a pinch before taking the napkin. “I’m thrilled.”

“Don’t get too excited, he might not show.”

“He’ll show,” Hyunjin assured him. “He was very interested in the fact that you called him pretty.”

Jisung threw his apron at Hyunjin, “Why did you tell him that?”

Hyunjin ducked out of the way, laughing, “He wanted to know what you said about him. So I told him.”

“No wonder he stopped coming here,” Jisung’s lips drew down into a pout. “Between you and Chan, he obviously knows I’ve been asking around about him. I scared him away.”

“Don’t worry, Sungie,” Hyunjin leaned over the counter and ruffled Jisung’s hair. “You’re too cute to resist for long. He’ll be here tomorrow. I’m sure of it.”

Minho took a deep breath as he stood outside the cafe, smoothing his hands over the navy and red striped shirt he was wearing. When Hyunjin had told Minho that Jisung wanted to meet him, he thought the other boy was messing with him. But then he’d presented Minho with Jisung’s number on a napkin, a small heart drawn next to the digits. When Minho had texted it to confirm it was actually Jisung, he’d received a pouty picture of the younger boy and a proclamation that he’d missed him.

Minho couldn’t ignore those puppy dog eyes and he’d agreed to meet with Jisung. He’d been up all night, trying to come up with a good reason for how he knew the other boy, but the more he thought about lying to him, the more his gut twisted. He didn’t want to out himself as a weird stalker who’d been pining over Jisung for months, but to just dismiss it off-hand with something as simple as ‘we met at a party’ seemed so wrong.

Jisung deserved the truth.

When Minho finally worked up the nerve to push into the cafe, he saw Jisung already waiting for him in the corner, two iced Americanos on the table. He glanced up at the sound of the bell and a smile overtook his face when he saw Minho.

Jisung stood up, waving wildly, as if the cafe wasn’t tiny and Minho might actually miss him sitting there. He looked adorable, dwarfed by the large pink sweater he was wearing, and Minho wanted to cry. Hyunjin had been unclear if this was actually a date or not, but if it was, Jisung certainly wouldn’t be asking him on a second one, not after he found out about Minho stalking him on instagram. The happiness that was currently filling his eyes would be replaced with disgust once Minho revealed the truth.

Minho crossed to the table and was immediately engulfed in a hug, sweater paw covered hands wrapping tight around his body. Minho hugged him back, hooking his chin over Jisung’s shoulder and relishing in the opportunity he never thought he would get.

“Thank you for coming,” Jisung pulled away, his hand trailing along Minho’s hip for a few seconds before he withdrew it completely from his body and re-took his seat. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Of course I came,” Minho grabbed the coffee, just so he would have something to do with his hands, and took a sip. “Why did you think I wouldn’t come?”

A dusting of rose colored Jisung’s cheeks, “I thought I scared you away. I know you know I’ve been asking around about you.”

Minho blinked, feeling guilty. He had never meant for Jisung to take his disappearance as something his actions had caused, “I’m sorry for making you think that. You didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t mind you asking about me.”

Jisung took a deep breath and focused his gaze on his coffee. He looked embarrassed.

Minho reached out towards Jisung’s side of the table, his palm up, “Hey, whatever you have to say, don’t be nervous. I won’t judge you.”

Jisung glanced up through his lashes, offering Minho a small smile before he slid his hand into Minho’s own. After a few beats of silence and one more deep breath, he spoke, “I’m really really sorry. But I can’t remember how I met you.”

Minho’s hand tightened against Jisung’s and the other boy looked up, nerves in his eyes. He tried to inch his hand away and Minho wanted so desperately to grab it and never let him go, but he knew once he revealed his truth, Jisung wouldn’t want to be touching him anyway. So he let him withdraw it and returned his own hand to his lap.

“That, um, that’s not your fault either.” Minho just had to say it and get it out of the way. There was no use in dragging it out, “We never actually met until that first day you were working the morning shift. I, um,” Minho focused his gaze on a scratch in the wood of their table, “I saw you tagged in a photo on Chan’s instagram a few months ago. And I thought you were really cute. So I kinda kept checking all your social media accounts. When I came in here that day and saw you, your name just came out. I could tell you didn’t know who I was, but I had to act like I knew you or out myself as a creep, so I just went with it. And you were so sweet for playing along.” Minho was scared to look up and see Jisung’s reaction. Instead he stood, “I’ll go now. I’m really sorry.”

“No!” a hand wrapped itself around his wrist, the small fingers drowning under a long pink sleeve. “You don’t have to go.”

Minho risked a glance at Jisung and saw he was staring at him, cheeks still beautifully rosy. He didn’t look horrified, so Minho slowly returned to his seat. Jisung’s fingers drifted down from his wrist to Minho’s own and the younger boy laced them together, eyes locked on Minho’s.

“You were so excited to see me. That first day. No one’s ever said my name like that before. Like seeing me was the best part of their day.”

“Seeing you always is the best part of my day.”

“I felt so bad,” Jisung’s eyes flicked down to their entwined fingers, a small smile on his lips. “For not knowing you. You were so nice and so beautiful and so happy to see me all the time, I felt like such an idiot for not being able to place you. I could tell you cared about me just from the way you talked to me, and I wanted to remember who you were. I wanted to know what kind of history we had that made you so thrilled to be around me.”

“No history,” Minho laughed, wincing a little at how self-deprecating he sounded even to his own ears. “Just my weird creepy internet crush.”

“This is our history now,” Jisung gestured around the mostly empty cafe. “And we have a fun story for when people ask us how we got together.”

“Everyone’s gonna think we’re idiots.”

“We are idiots,” Jisung grinned, leaning across the table. Minho laughed and met him halfway, his free hand coming up to cup Jisung’s full cheek as they kissed softly.

When they pulled apart a minute later, Hyunjin was standing by the table, his hand over his heart and a fond smile on his lips, “I knew you two would be beautiful together. What did I tell you, Jisung, the first time you asked about Minho? I told you to go for it. And, Minho? What did I say when we talked about Jisung? I told you he was going to ask you out. I did this.”

Jisung balled up his napkin at threw it at Hyunjin, “Yes, you and your lazy ass refusing to wake up for the early shift did indeed do this. But that’s the only time I’ll say it, so take whatever satisfaction you get from that and leave us alone.”

“You’re welcome,” Hyunjin sing-songed, before sauntering back behind counter.

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Hyunjin,” Jisung muttered under his breath before returning his gaze to Minho, a massive smile spilling across his lips. “Kiss me again?”

Minho leaned in, but the second before Jisung’s mouth met his he pulled back, laughing at the high pitched whine that escaped Jisung’s lips, “Does this mean I get free coffee again?”

“You’ll have no coffee and no kisses if you keep this up,” Jisung puckered his lips and Minho laughed again, softly caressing Jisung’s cheek with his thumb.

“I can’t risk that,” he agreed. He dropped a quick kiss on Jisung’s warm cheek before pressing in and whispering against his mouth, “But if I have to choose to just one, I’ll take the kisses.”

#minsung #han jisung #lee know #kind of a coffee shop au #but totally in the coffee shop #one day I'll write a full coffee shop au #i hated the story i posted yesterday so i felt the need to write something else and get it posted asap #i like this one a lot better

48 notes · View notes

tcswritings · 5 years

Text

Sleepless.

It’s Spring 2013. Orla can’t sleep because of a late night drawing session. But also because she has things on her mind.

***

4:02 am.

Orla O’Connell lay wide awake on her back and let out a faint but rather dramatic sigh. The room around her was mostly dark, only a bit of moonlight fell through the blinds, creating a striped pattern on the walls. She had counted those stripes for the umpteenth time now, instead of sheep, but there was no use. Sleep was out of question.

‘I should’ve known better.’ Orla thought and rolled her eyes at herself. ‘As if picking up my damn sketchbook late ever ends in a good night’s sleep.’

Mick had already gone to bed around eleven (which was a bummer because Orla had other plans) but it was only Friday - well, Saturday now - and she was about to spend the weekend at his apartment and she was pretty tired herself a few hours earlier after all. The last week had been really exhausting; her current art school projects ate up most of her free time as well as her energy and Mick’s week hadn’t been very enjoyable either, judging from the few bits he had told her during the week. They haven’t had much time for anything else but occasional phone calls and text messages which only added to their overall grumpiness - they had missed each other terribly.

Although both were certainly wiped enough, neither Orla nor Mick wanted to go to bed at seven already so they ordered in some food and just crashed on the couch together, tackling the newest episodes of their current favourite guilty pleasure show and it somehow turned out to be a perfect evening nonetheless and so Orla figured that there wasn’t anything to complain about at all - they had each other back now and there were no regrets, merely two full days to look forward to.

The world was in balance again.

At least until Orla made the mistake of getting out her sketchbook when Mick was just about to go to sleep, “Just for a few minutes, I’ll be with you in a bit!”, and the worst part was that he had warned her as well, “Nah, don’t start drawin’ now. Just don’t. You know what happens when y’do.”, but seeing that it was too late already (and knowing that arguing with her was pointless anyway), he just groaned and rolled his eyes before kissing her goodnight and disappearing into his bedroom. Orla could’ve sworn that he mumbled a rather unflattering remark regarding her state of mind on his way out but she didn’t really care, her latest sketch already had her full attention.

That way she could also finally pay attention to all the thoughts that had been coming to her mind over the week. There were quite a few of them. In fact, there were so many that she was forced to take them to bed with her and here she was - sleep-deprived and caught up in incoherent thoughts.

Orla sighed again. Normally she loved that Mick knew her so well but right now? Not so much. He would get up well rested in a few hours after all, while she wouldn’t feel and function (and look) significantly better than an average lower class zombie. She looked over to her right side. Mick was apparently sound asleep, looking unusually peaceful.

‘Yeah, great. Just play Sleeping Beauty, I get it.’ Orla thought, rather miffed and she looked back to the ceiling, crossing her arms over her chest. The prospect of spending the next few hours like this had no appeal at all to her and Orla couldn’t see any good reason why she should spend her sleepless misery all by herself. She didn’t really want to wake Mick up just like that, though. There had to be things she could do that would make him wake up sooner or later and that she could later pretend to be entirely oblivious about.

Orla bit her lip and after a little while she had an idea. She slid out of bed and stomped into the living room, not bothering at all to be quiet (maybe shutting a door not so quietly would already do the job), digging for her tablet in her bag and when she found it, she hurried back. She flopped on the bed, rustling the bedsheets a little longer than necessary before she crept back under them, arranging the pillows behind her so she could sit up comfortably.

Another expectant glance to the other bedside. Nothing. Not even the slightest movement. ‘Jesus, O’Loughlin, what are you, dead?’

Orla switched the tablet on and turned the volume up. She had already thought of the perfect movie with the perfect opening sequence to watch. It took her a moment to browse through her files, hoping that she hadn’t already deleted Declan’s stuff from the hard drive as planned but she was lucky.

“… aaaand there it is. A New Hope.” she mumbled and double clicked the file. “Do your best, George Lucas.”

Only a few moments later the all too familiar tune blasted from the device, just as Orla expected, and she hummed along for a while, checking every few moments if her sleepy boyfriend would finally deign to wake up and keep her company. The sound wasn’t ridiculously loud, that would be too obvious, but, combined with the light coming from the iPad, it certainly had potential to wake someone up and her method turned out to be quite effective indeed: Mick wrinkled his nose a little and let out a little disgruntled noise of disapproval. After a few moments he reached out, eyes still closed, clumsily groping around in the dark, apparently trying to figure out the source of the noise so he could turn it off.

Success. Orla turned down the volume again quickly. When Mick’s hand landed on her arm, she put her own hand on it.

“What’s up, baby? Oh god, sorry, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” she murmured, not able to supress a smirk that she knew he couldn’t see.

“Mmmmmh…” Mick murmured.

“What was that?” Amused, Orla now put the tablet away and leaned over him, her lips almost brushing his ear.

“Whaddayadoin…”

“I… didn’t mean to wake you. I couldn’t sleep so I thought I could watch a movie, maybe…” Orla replied, stroking his hair and, above all, making sure to sound as innocent as possible.

“Ugh…” Mick now drew his arm back, covering his face with it.

“I’m sorry.” Orla said. “But hey, now that you’re awake, we can watch it together.”

“Why?”

“’Cause watching movies is fun?”

“No. Yah... no. What have I ever done to ya?” He sounded so hilariously dazed that Orla had to laugh.

“You haven’t done anything!”

Mick rolled over now, scooting closer and snuggling up to his girlfriend, putting his arm around her hips and resting his head on her lap. Orla smiled and happily ran her fingers through his hair again. Yep. That was kinda what she had in mind.

“I don’ wanna watch Star Wars. Not ever.” Mick murmured before his gaze eventually fell on the alarm clock on the little bedside table. He raised his head again and blinked in disbelief. “Are ya outta ya mind? It’s almost four fuckin’ thirty!”

“I told you I couldn’t sleep!” Orla cried out.

“Oh my god!” Mick flopped back into Orla’s lap. “I told ya not to pick up that fuckin’ sketchbook!” His voice was muffled.

“Yeah but-”

“Did I tell ya not to draw? Did I?”

“You did. Don’t be dramatic now.”

“I jus’ wanna sleep. It’s 4:30, I got ev’ry right ta be dramatic at 4:30.”

“Ah no, that’s such a waste of energy.”

“What energy, I’m out of energy.”

Orla giggled a little at his remark as he still sounded somewhat dazed. “Hey, weirdo, now that you’re awake…” she lightly patted his head, ”you can entertain me! How’s that?”

“I can hardly keep my eyes open, can’t possibly do that now.” Mick rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Gimme ten minutes.” he added quietly, a few moments later.

“Oh my god, you’re terrible!” Orla laughed. “Wasn’t talking about that. I mean, I dunno. Let’s just talk for a moment? I’ve been thinking a bit lately.”

“‘bout what?”

“I dunno. Things.”

“What things?”

“About us.”

Despite the soft voice that Orla was using, the statement jolted Mick a little further out of his sleepy state. He opened his eyes in the dark again and frowned but Orla couldn’t see that.

“What about us?” he asked quietly.

“I dunno. Nothing in particular. Or, well. There’s something, I guess?”

“So, what is it?”

Orla sighed. “Maybe it sounds silly but... doesn’t it ever feel weird to you that we, y’know, never fight?”

Startled at the unexpected sentiment, Mick let out a little laugh. “Wait, what relationship are you in? We fight all the time! We just did, kinda?”

“Nah, that’s not ‘fighting’, that’s usually foreplay.”

“Fair enough. Still. We do fight. I mean, I’m sure we fight?”

“No, we don’t.” Orla caressed Mick’s upper arm by tracing little circles on it. “Jessie said it. Ever since we became, y’know, this, we’ve been in such harmony. Inseparable. Almost, like, synched.”

There was silence for a few moments. Just when Orla feared that Mick had fallen asleep again, he turned his head to face her and propped himself up a little.

“So... ya want us to shout at each other every day or what?” he asked carefully, still not quite sure why Orla would bring this subject up in the middle of the night. Or, better said, the very early morning hours.

“Of course not.” Orla rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly now.”

“I mean, we’ve been datin’ for, like, what? Four weeks?”

“Five.”

“Yeah, either way, that’s not exactly what one would call long time commitment, eh? Ya really want us t’ be miserable so soon?”

“I don’t wanna be miserable, silly, I just... I dunno. I feel that real relationships should have more fighting.”

Mick looked at Orla for a few moments, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“... ‘kay, I’ll try my best to piss y’off more often from now on.” he eventually shook his head a little before he laid back down to rest in Orla’s lap again.

“You’re not taking me seriously at all, are you?!” Orla rolled her eyes again and gave Mick a light slap to the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“That can’t possibly have hurt. Like, at all.” she scoffed but began to stroke his hair again, as if to make up for the slap she had just given him.

“My head hurts from yer ‘We should fight more!’ shit. I mean, Orla, c’mon. Who cares what Jessie says?”

“I’ll tell her you said that!”

“Or what anyone else says in that matter.” Mick groaned. “Ya know what I mean. None of our friends is exactly an expert in the field, don’t ya think?”

Again, silence. Mick closed his eyes again, hoping that Orla would eventually let it go so they could get at least a few more hours of rest.

“Are you mad now?” Orla asked after a few moments, grinning, lightly pulling at a strand of his hair.

Okay, so much for ‘rest’, Mick thought to himself.

“C’mon, you wanna fight now? I made you mad, we have to fight now!” Orla insisted and she clearly was no longer tired.

“I’m not mad, you’re just annoying.”

“Aw, now we’re definitely gonna fight, you said a mean thing!”

“I did not-”

“Finally. Our first fight. Prepare for some cliche phrases.”

“Orla, what the hell?” Mick laughed. Screw it. She wants to play, let her play. He was no longer tired anyway.

Orla was relieved when she heard him laugh.

“You never listen to me!” she suddenly cried out, using a tone of mock dispair.

“Oh my god.” Still laughing, Mick rolled over on his back. “Get away from me.”

Orla joined in laughing and she scooted closer, slowly crawling on top of him.

“You never take me seriously either!”

“No, I certainly don’t.”

“You don’t care for me-”

“- ah, c’mon, that’s debatable-”

“- and I always I have to do all the apartment cleaning by myself!” Orla finished her little mock outrage and bent down to Mick, kissing him sweetly.

“You never cleaned my apartment so far.” he murmured against Orla’s lips, placing a hand to the side of her neck and pulling her into another deep kiss. “Hey, ya wanna do that later? I have a new mop!”

“Woah! Sexist much?” Orla gave Mick another light slap to his head, sat up and crossed her arms. She knew he didn’t mean what he had just said but she felt playful.

“Ya don’t need to wear any clothes, by the way.” He put his hands to her hips and squeezed them a little and the somewhat firm touch sent a little shiver down Orla’s spine.

“See? You’re terrible.You deserve to be shouted at.”

Mick looked up at Orla and bit his lower lip, lightly tugging at the hem of her shorts. “Hey... come back down here for a moment.”

Orla did as he asked her to, curious as to what was on his mind. “What is it?”

“Do ya really- I mean, ya really think it’s a bad thing that we don’t actually fight?”

“I was just saying-”

“‘Cause I think that’s a good thing, y’know?” He cupped her face in both of his hands and gave her another kiss. “Call me a softie or anythin’ but I’ve never believed in all those bullshit cliches. That couples have to be miserable and irritated with each other. You don’t want that kind of relationship. I don’t want it.”

Orla pushed a lost strand of hair out of Mick’s face and smiled at him. “No, of course not. It’s just... it’s just all I know. Like, I don’t have a whole lot of reference where there was no fighting involved.”

“Yeah, and how did that work out for ya?”

“It didn’t.”

Mick played with a strand of Orla’s hair, curling it around his finger and letting it go again. “I can do without the fighting.” he eventually said.

“Chloe and Malachy fight, but they handle it somehow? They’re perfect for each other. So it’s maybe not only a bad thing after all.”

“Aye but Chloe’s a hothead and Malachy is, well, uh... Malachy. We’re not anything like them.”

“You are a hothead.”

“Not really.” Mick shook his head.

“Hey, I’ve known you for much longer than five weeks, okay? You, sir, are a hothead.” Orla insisted.

“I’m not. Not with you.”

“Not with me, no.” Orla smiled. “Still. I don’t think fighting is just bad. I mean, how do they say? Friction causes heat. And heat eventually turns into warmth.”

“Aye, okay, I’m not sayin’ we won’t ever fight but it doesn’t have to be and if we don’t, ya shouldn’t worry ‘bout it.” A thought crossed Mick’s mind and he propped himself up on his elbows. “Wait, what, are y’ bored already? Is that what this is all about? Oh my god!”

“Oh god, no, I’m not bored!” When Mick just kept looking at her with a dumbfounded expression, Orla had to laugh. “I am not. bored., you weirdo. Anything but that, trust me. Actually... “

“What?”

“No. “Orla shook her head. “It’s silly. And sappy.”

“Orla, y’ can’t just start sentences and not finish ‘em.” Mick sighed and laid back down again. “That’s what I do.” he added with a smile.

“Yeah, and you must stop that, by the way, it’s annoying and the ‘It’s cute ‘cause I’m sleeping with you!’ bonus will expire one day.”

“Don’t change the subject. Tell me what ya think.”

“No. Gives you way too much power.” Orla smirked.

“Orla, please.”

“Alright.” she sighed. “It’s so dumb. Don’t take this the wrong way but... I think I’m scared sometimes.”

“Scared? Why that?”

“I mean, aren’t you? We’ve been together for such a short time only and sometimes it freaks me out how much it unsettles me when you’re not around.”

“What do ya mean?”

“Okay, look. Just think of last week. I was literally on the edge of my sanity ‘cause we couldn’t meet up for even five fuckin’ minutes. Apparently I’m that kind of girl now and I hate it.”

“What kind of girl?”

“The kind of girl who needs her stupid boyfriend or otherwise she’ll freak.”

“Oy, watch it.” Mick pinched her side a little but he was smiling.

“Sorry. Got carried away, y’know. Feelings.” Orla smiled right back.

“But seriously, why d’ ya hate that? I feel the same, I was close to murdering my co-workers and once ya got here, my bad mood was like... poof. Gone!”

“Okay, that’s kind of cute... except for the murdering-your-co-workers part. Please don’t do that.” Orla raised an eyebrow.

“Figure of speech. If I killed them, I’d have to do all that work alone.”

“I’m sure they appreciate your motives for letting them live.”

“This is not about them.” Mick caressed Orla’s cheek with his thumb and she closed her eyes at his gentle touch.

“I know. I dunno. It’s not that I don’t enjoy things as they are. I do. It’s just... what if-”

Reading her thought, Mick just closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. Don’ even think that, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“‘Cause I am.” Realising how weird he probably sounded and that such a statement based on a simple feeling probably wouldn’t convince her, Mick tried to think of something that would back up what he had just said but he couldn’t think of anything reasonable. He realised that, in a way, Orla was right. He couldn’t be sure. It really was just a feeling, but the feeling was strong enough and for some weird reason Mick had always been better off trusting his guts so far and so he shrugged. “I dunno. I just am.”

It looked like Orla didn’t need any reason as she smiled right down at him. They looked at each other like that for a few more moments and while nothing they had just said made any sense, their little world was still perfect

Eventually Orla pulled back and sat up again, her expression curious.

“So you’re a fortune teller now?” she asked.

“What?”

“Well, apparently you can now predict the future. That’s good, that way I’ll never have to worry about anything anymore, I can just ask you about how things are gonna turn out.”

“Well, if it makes ya happy?”

“Yeah! So, what else can you tell me? Am I going to be rich? Famous?” Orla lowered her voice. “Clearly I’m already drop dead beautiful.” She did an elegant hair flip and smiled down at her boyfriend.

“Aye, y’are.” Mick smiled back and nodded. “Well, I can tell ya that my neighbours will be up very soon.”

“Really? Why would they, it’s barely 5. Is that something you just know as well?”

“Aye.” Mick bit his lip and put on a playful grin. He put his hands back to Orla’s hips, pulling her a little closer. “Ya be screamin’ my name in less than, uhm... let’s say thirty minutes, it’ll wake ‘em up.”

“Aw, I hate you when you’re cocky like that.”

“Nah, ya don’t.”

“Nah, I don’t.” Orla grinned and she let Mick pull her into another kiss - one that didn’t leave too much room for interpretation but a few moments later she sat back up again as she got hit by another thought.

“Hey, so we never really finished that discussion about fighting.” Orla noted, out of breath, her smile wide.

“Oh my god, are ya fuckin’ serious?”

“Just listen to me!”

“Now? No way, I got other stuff on my mind now, come back down here!” Mick used both hands to wave Orla nearer.

“Alright, in a second. Just promise me you’ll at least consider provoking a fight every now and then!”

“God, what? Why?”

“Just three words...” she teased, as she slowly pulled down the straps of her tank top.

“Huh?”

“Make up sex.”

***

#orla #mick #orla x mick #orla's pet name for mick is indeed 'weirdo'#along with others #elsa inspired that #WHO ELSE lol #I find that cute #even a casual 'hey weirdo!' warms this boy's heart

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strife-and-discord · 5 years

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Can’t You See!

Read on AO3 here

Characters: Natsuo Todoroki, Enji Todoroki, Poor random office lady

Summary: Every year the number one hero is required to hold the annual Pro Heroes Gala. For the first time, this means Endeavour and he would like to have all his children there for the event, however, he's having a little trouble getting in contact with Natsuo. Oh well, surely he won't mind if Endeavour drops in on him while he's at college, right?

A/N: Okay, I'm gonna start with the nasty business by saying: THIS STORY IS BY NO MEANS AN ENDEAVOUR REDEMPTION and I don't think Endeavour particularly deserves to be forgiven. However, I don't think it's a bad thing that he's trying to be a better person, we should all try to be better people, and what this story is trying to show a bit is how Endeavour's efforts to be a better hero look from the outside. If you try to start discourse here I will delete your comments.

Oof, now that's over: I have been on such a Natsuo kick lately and I've been struggling on a zine piece so I decided to write this. I'm really in love with the quirkless Natsuo theory because I feel like it would round out the Todoroki family and make Natsuo's character more interesting.

I am a high school student in Australia and I know jack shit about college in Japan so don't @ about the absolutely false details in this fic alright.

Small and sleep deprived college students scatter as the hulking Flame Hero Endeavour storms his way up the path to the college’s main entrance, not even looking back at the wreckage he left behind him. The toppled students gaze up at him in awe, wondering what the de facto number one hero could possibly be doing at their school. Endeavour wasn’t really the sort of hero you invited to do education speeches and certainly not inspirational speeches, so most figured he must be here to arrest someone. Although it’d have to be pretty damn serious for to turn up.

There is no doubt that Endeavour is a man on a mission as he continues to stride straight through the doors of the college, only deigning to put out his flames right as he enters. Still, that was more than he usually did. At the slam of the door, the tired office lady looks up to see who could possibly be causing such a ruckus, only just managing to pull back before she scolds the number one hero for slamming doors.

Snapping her mouth shut she tries to pull herself together enough to go through the usual motions. Although she can’t quite keep herself from staring at him wide-eyed. She may not be a huge Endeavour fan, but it’s not like you get such a high ranking hero visiting you every day. And seeing that nasty scar of his up close in person…

She jostles herself. Now is not the time to be thinking about such things.

“Uh… How can I help you today, sir?” She winces at the way she fumbles the start

The way the huge man looks down at her, she can’t help but feel a bit like an ant in his path. Although she can’t help but notice that The Flaming hero doesn’t look as angry as she has him on telly before. She had heard rumours of Endeavour supposedly acting softer than he had as number two, could they actually be true?

“I am here to see my son who attends here,” The man booms just a little too loudly, “Can you tell me where I can find him?”

The office lady goes back to gaping at him. She’s fairly sure it would be well known among the staff if Endeavour's son was attending. If only because the big bosses would be all over the famous hero’s wallet. And she thought his kid was in UA? Did he have other children? She still checks the database for any Todorokis but unsurprisingly comes up empty.

“I’m s-sorry sir but we don’t have anyone by the name Todoroki here, are you sure you have the right college?” It isn’t easy asking arguably the most aggressive pro hero if he’s made a mistake.

A very large, fist slams down on the desk and she flinches back comically before it slowly retracts.

“I’m sorry, that was unnecessary. I’m sure this is the school my son attends, his name is Todoroki Natsuo can you please check again.”

The office lady is still certain that there are no Todorokis here but the name Natsuo does ring a bell, and she’s starting to get an inkling as to what may be going on here. She searches the database again but with the name Natsuo and successfully gets a hit this time. Now… How to break the news to Endeavour.

“We still don’t have any Todorokis enrolled but we do have a Nanase Natsuo.”

Endeavour’s face changes as soon as she says it, she’s not sure how to describe how he looks but sombre may be a good place to start. Then, he says quietly then she’s ever heard him before, “Yes… That will be him.” He pauses for a slightly awkward moment. “Nanase was his mother’s maiden name.”

There is obviously something deeper there but she is definitely not going to pry. She had heard the rumours.

“Ahem, uhh…” she clears her throat awkwardly and looks back down at her computer, “Well, in that case, Natsuo should be doing a peer-assisted study session right now in Rec room one.”

It occurs to her that considering this is Endeavour’s first time here, he probably has no idea where that is. She reaches under the table and pulls out one of the maps kept there for new students and guests.

She opens the map up to Endeavour, “You just need to go straight from here, take a left, follow this path until you see the door that says Recreational Room One and he should be in there,” she traces the path for him from the office on the map.

Endeavour nods along at the instructions before looking at her, “Thank you, I appreciate your help greatly. I’ll be on my way now.” And with that, he heads to the door.

“Good luck!” The office lady calls out to his retreating form. She sits for a moment in an attempt to try and process what had just happened and only realises after he is long gone that she forgot to have him sign in as a guest. Oh well, He’s the number one hero, what’s the worst that could possibly happen?

_______________

Natsuo’s struggling to concentrate today. There are a few more people than usual and he keeps getting distracted by various conversations. Nonetheless, if he wants to spend more time hanging out with Shouto on weekends, he actually has to finish his work in a timely manner for once. The old man hasn’t been doing anything to stop them from seeing each other so Natsuo’s taking full advantage of it to better get to know his little brother. It’s a bit of a new experience, seeing as he’d really only ever been a younger brother to Touya. But Touya isn’t around to be a big brother anymore and Natsuo has been neglectful enough to Shouto as it is.

Natsuo politely tells the others that he needs to stop talking to them if he wants to get this work done before putting his head back down to the book in front of him. He probably manages to get a solid half hour of work done before there’s an aggressively loud knock at the door that completely startles him out of his zone. Is there an emergency or something? Who on earth could feel the need to knock like that?

Everyone else seems to think the same thing as they all look at the door with expectation as an older student pushes himself towards the door with a sigh. For some reason, Natsuo can’t help but feel a vague sense of impending doom.

The reason for that is very clear when the door opens to reveal his… dad. It feels weird to even think of him like that, but it feels weird to call him Enji as well? Regardless of what Natsuo should call him, what the hell was he doing here!? He’d never shown any interest in Natsuo’s education before, or Natsuo in general, but it seemed unlikely that there would be some sort of villainous issue coincidentally in the same room that Natsuo’s currently in.

There’s a crushingly awkward silence as everyone in the room tries to process the presence of the number one hero, and Natsuo tries to sink down in his chair enough to be unnoticeable. Something that is hard to do when you have a similar build to freakin’ Endeavour.

The student at the door finally seems to accept the hulking figure in front of him and comes back to himself, “Uhh… hello Mr Endeavour, sir…” He does nothing to hide his disbelief.

However, disbelief has always done nothing but fuel Endeavour more. “I am here to talk to my son if that’s alright. I was told he might be here.” Natsuo sinks further into his chair.

He’d heard from Fuyumi that the old man had been trying to contact him lately, which of course Natsuo has him blocked in every way possible, but he never thought he’d do something as outright ridiculous as hunting him down at school.

One positive, at least, is that Enji is so used to saying “my son” and having people automatically know he means Shouto, that he doesn’t even think to refer to Natsuo by name, so there’s still a chance Natsuo could avoid this confrontation.

‘I... uhh… Are you… sure you hav-” Endeavour cuts in before the poor guy can even finish, “His name is Natsuo, you may know him by Nanase.” Shit. He must’ve figured it out at the front office. Of course, pretty much every kid in here knows him, and of course, as soon as the name’s out every head in the room swivels toward him like a herd of meerkats on the nature channel. Even Endeavour is looking over at him now, following everyone’s gazes, and Natsuo lets himself sigh in defeat. If this is how it’s all going to end for him, he’d like to make one final stand.

Natsuo rises from his chair, head held high, and marches towards his father with as much pride and intimidation as he can muster at this point. He can feel every eye in the room on him as he makes his way on what feels like a dramatic quest at this point. He sets his face in a glare aimed towards his father and as he reaches him he puts his hands out towards him and shoves with all his might.

“Let’s take this outside,” he commands. In the back of his mind, he thinks that this must be what Shouto means when he talks about going plus ultra.

To Natsuo’s surprise, and probably to Enji’s as well, He actually manages to move him. Endeavour stumbles backwards out the door and for a moment Natsuo worries he’s pushed too hard and he’s gonna be attacked for shoving the number one hero to the ground but thankfully he manages to hold his ground.

Natsuo shuts the door behind him and does his best to face his father expectantly while he regains his footing. It doesn’t take long for Endeavour to be back at his full height and staring Natsuo down. Suddenly, the plus ultra moment is gone and he feels like a little kid vying for his father’s attention again. But that doesn’t mean he can back down yet.

“What the actual hell are you doing here!?” Natsuo demands.

Enji just looks at him in a pondering manor before completely ignoring his question, “You’re going by your mother’s name?” The way he asks it makes Natsuo feel like it’s a question.

“Yes. I am. And you just exposed me to that entire room! Back to my question, why are you here?”

Enji at least seems willing to let the topic go for now, although Natsuo can tell this won’t be the end of that particular of discussion.

“As you are most likely aware, the number one hero is required to arrange and host the annual pro hero gala. Your sister and I have been working together to arrange this year’s and it would mean a lot to me to have all my children there. I came here to deliver your invitation personally”

Natsuo just stares at his father blank-faced. Having all of them at a gala like that would absolutely mean that Enji would have to officially present him and Fuyumi to the other heroes and the media. He would have to acknowledge their existence. And the fact that he came personally to his college just to give him the invitation makes it seem like he’s actually pretty serious about this.

“Why on earth do you think I would agree to that?”

“I understand that you won’t come for my sake so at the very least I ask that you come for your sister’s. She worked very hard on this and it would mean a lot to her for her siblings to see it and be there with her.”

Damn. That was a pretty good reason. And it’s exactly the sort of thing Fuyumi would actually say to him so either Enji’s gotten to know her really well in the span of a few weeks or she actually said that to him. He’s certain Fuyumi will go to the party meaning she’ll probably be able to convince Shouto to go as well. Also meaning that it would be a dick move for Natsuo to just abandon them there.

Natsuo can feel the fight draining out of him. He promised he was going to be a better brother from now on and that he wouldn’t run away when his siblings needed him. God knows he did more than enough of that as a child and if he hadn’t maybe Shouto would smile more today. Maybe they’d still have Touya.

“Fine… I’ll go. Hand me the invite,” Natsuo holds his hand out.

Enji holds out a deep crimson envelope with gold decal flowers nicely placed along the front framing the invitee’s name, which in this case says Natsuo Todoroki, a name that Natsuo hasn’t seen in a while.

“I’m glad you’ve come to that decision Natsuo. I look forward to seeing you at the gala.”

“Can you just go now,” Natuso snaps tiredly, “You’ve done enough damage here as it is.”

Enji hesitates for a moment before giving a soft nod of his head and turning to walk back down the path. Before he leaves, he turns his head back to Natsuo one last time.

“Why not use the family name?” He calls.

Natsuo can’t help but scoff, “And spend the rest of my life being Endeavour’s Qirkless Son? Haven’t you seen how much much Shouto’s been struggling to get out from under your shadow? I’d rather just be Natsuo.”

Enji finally takes his leave and Natsuo can’t help but give a sigh of relief when he turns the corner. Still staring at the envelope Natsuo goes to head back into the rec room but as soon as he starts opening the door he here’s the sound of nosey brats rushing back to their seats. Natsuo opens the door to a whole room of students looking at him with something akin to awe in their eyes.

One of the older students pipes up from the back, “So are we gonna be calling you Todoroki from now on?”

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki enji #endeavor #natsuo todoroki #the words of me

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bendthekneejon · 5 years

Text

More Deleted Scenes

More deleted scenes from TBAWY.

These ones should go after the chapter “No More Fear”.

Olenna Tyrell gives Dany some useful advice ;)

Arianne went to get Dany out of the computer room. She had been there all evening. She hadn’t even noticed when had the night fallen. She pressed her fingers against her aching eyes. She had been extracting data from the Bloomberg computers and analyzing every single number she could see. She looked around at all the rows of computers with dark screens, only a couple of people were in the room besides her.

No one was keeping her there until late. Professor Tyrell did not demand her to do so. It was her own will to finish what she had started during the day instead of leaving it for the next one and losing track of what she was doing.

Besides Jon, her best friends were the only ones who knew about the problem with Viserys. It had also been a shock to Arianne to hear such news, as she had been close to the family since they were little. He was getting better, though. He had been in rehabilitation for a couple of months. It was difficult and he had wanted to leave a couple of times, but he had not done so, which at least was a good indicator. Her mother, Rhaegar and she had recovered from the initial shock and went on with their daily lives, which at least for Dany was the best way of coping instead of staying in her room crying or lying in her bed with her laptop watching Netflix until late, clicking on any movie or TV show and just staring at the screen, many times without actually being interested in what she was watching.

At least now she could focus more on work and school, but then Jon or her friends would insist that she spent too much time on those activities and needed more time to relax. She had said no multiple times to going out clubbing with her friends, which she hardly ever used to deny. She would prefer now to curl up in bed, most of the times with Jon but sometimes alone as well, and just put on a movie or read a book.

Yet Arianne wanted to take her out for a drink with their friends, insisting she would buy. Even though she was exhausted and her limbs felt heavy, pressing down her body, she agreed to go with her, Margaery and Myrcella to school’s pub and clear her head. Each took their glass of beer in their hands and walked from the bar to a wooden, round table. It was a Wednesday night, perhaps nine thirty, so not many people were there besides them.

They talked about their classes, internships they were looking for, their day, the party from the previous weekend, politics, feminism, what TV shows they were watching or how their love life was doing.

“Dany,” Margaery said. “How long have you and Jon been together exactly?”

“Almost three years now.”

Myrcella gasped. “Holy shit.”

“Time flies,” said Arianne. “Three years of getting laid every day.”

“I mean…not every day," Dany replied. "But…kinda, yeah.”

“Did you guys think we would be together for this long? Jon and I?” she dared to ask them.

Her three friends stayed silent, an obvious answer to her question.

“I’ll speak for myself and say no,” Margaery told her. “You guys were so different.”

“So different, Dany,” Arianne said.

“You’re…so extroverted and outgoing and he couldn’t even say more than three sentences together,” Myrcella said.

“But it’s so clear he loves you,” Margaery said. “What I couldn’t understand, though, was…what drew you so much into him? Into someone so different from you? Into someone you took to parties and just stood there awkwardly?”

Myrcella turned to Margaery and told her, “You know why.”

Margaery laughed out loud. “Ohhh! Because he’s great in bed!”

Dany laughed, “Come on, that’s not the reason. That’s not the only reason,” she said, making them laugh. “No, really, he was so nice, we had such a good time together. I don’t know, I felt good with him, he made me feel comfortable.”

“Awww,” said Margaery, “So it wasn’t the sex, then?”

“It wasn’t, cause, well…we didn’t have sex until our fourth month together.”

“What?!” said Myrcella.

“WHAT?! Shut the fuck up,” said Margaery.

Arianne only laughed with her beer in her hand, she already knew this. In fact, Dany had told her right after her first time.

“I know,” Dany smiled, looking down at the table.

“Why?” Margaery asked.

“He just wasn’t ready. He got…too nervous about it.”

“You are the definition of patience,” Arianne told her.

“Come on, four months is not that much!” Myrcella said, who hadn’t had sex yet.

“Was it worth waiting, though?” Margaery asked.

Dany smiled, “Totally.”

“I’ve always said so, shy guys are the best in bed,” Arianne said.

Dany laughed, “I can’t disagree. The first weeks after our first time were crazy.”

Arianne laughed. “Remember this Myrcella, after your first time you will be horny all the time.”

“All the time,” Dany agreed, and they all laughed.

She did not take for granted having people that cared for her—her friends, her boyfriend, her family. When she was born, her mother and her brothers had decided that she would never have a life like the one they had had with her father at home. Even Viserys.

Time flew by that night and Dany did not regret for a second coming along to meet her friends. They drank a little more than planned, not caring that it was a school night, they had such fun together they didn’t want to leave and stop joking and laughing. Her friends knew he was in rehab now, but they knew better not to bring up the topic tonight and ruin her mood. It had not been easy to laugh these past months as much as before.

With the passing of days, the thoughts of work and school took over the ones from her family, undermining them, pushing them to the back of her head. She usually went to class, have lunch, worked with Olenna Tyrell, go back to her dorm or to Jon’s place to spend the night there. Cuddling with him in bed, hugging him and feeling his body warmth and his scent on the sheets, was a somniferous. It lulled her to sleep as opposed to staying up, staring at the roof when she was in her bed on her own.

She had class in the mornings and worked after lunch, so she sometimes ate with Olenna in the cafeteria.

“I don’t think Margaery would ever sit with me in the cafeteria,” Olenna told her one time.

At the start, it felt funny to be sitting down with a professor, but then she stopped caring about it, she had the most interesting conversations about economics with her, and with every word she said, Dany admired her even more.

“Now, dear, I must say,” Olenna cleared her throat as she cut a piece of grilled fish. “I don’t want you to work excessively on this. No more than it’s good for you. Margaery told me you were not going through an easy time.” Dany sighed. She did not like being pitied or perceived as weak—as somebody who needs to say if work is too hard. She only wanted to get things done right. Olenna was such a remarkable woman, academically, that Dany wanted her to think the same about the work she was doing. “Don’t worry, she did it with the best intentions. She’s worried about you. I don’t want you to feel overloaded with work all day, alright? Let me know if it feels like too much or if you don’t feel okay and need to go. This should not make things worse for you.”

Dany nodded and smiled. “Thank you very much, professor. Much appreciated.”

“Now, I don’t want to intrude in your personal problems, you don’t have to tell me about them. I just want to let you know that they will pass. Look at me, I’m so old, am I not? Life hits you hard, I know it, dear.”

Dany gave her a tiny smile and nodded.

“Oh, to be your age again!” Olenna continued. “There's so much I wish I could have done when I was young. You’re in your early twenties, dear, the best years of your life.”

“I guess so. That’s what everyone says,” Dany replied.

“Daenerys, I’ll give you some advice.” She cleared her throat. “If I could go back in time to when I was your age…” she looked around, leaned in and silently, almost whispering, said, “I’d have so much sex.”

“What?” Dany laughed awkwardly.

“All you can, dear,” Olenna nodded.

“Professor…Tyrell,” Dany chuckled, foolishly trying to keep her cheeks from reddening.

“You’re luckier to live in a time when women are so…free when it comes to that topic. It’s not the solution for everything, but do you know how much serotonin you release by doing so? You have no idea how much you’ll miss it in the end. Now you’ve got all the energy in the world. In the blink of an eye, you’ll have children and there’ll be no more time for it,” Olenna continued.

Dany nodded, smiling nervously, “I guess so. I think we’re doing fine, my boyfriend and I.”

“Good,” Olenna replied. “Just don’t tell Margaery we’ve been talking about this, she’d never speak to me again.”

Dany laughed. Jon had to hear about this.

“Do you think it’s true, though?” she asked him, moving her bare feet in the air as her legs hung down the kitchen counter, as he washed the dishes at his place after dinner. “That we should have all the sex we can these years before work and children fuck it all up.”

“I guess. She’s old, she’s been through it. She must know,” he said, making her chuckle. “And couples over forty…I just don’t think they have much sex, you know? It shows. They're arguing all the time. They're sex-deprived.”

She laughed, but then asked, “Will that happen to us?”

He dried his hands with a kitchen towel and stood in front of her, placing them on the counter on either side of her.

“I hope the hell not. I mean, I hope we can bang this often our whole lives but…we won’t always have this energy and…flexibility and strength. So, why take risks?”

She grinned and nodded, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He held her face with both hands, cold from the sink water, and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Now?” he asked.

She chuckled and said, “Okay.”

She opened her mouth wider against his lips. She had to do some reading for the following day, but thirty more minutes with her boyfriend would not do her any harm.

“Here?” she asked when she felt his fingers unzipping her pants. “In the kitchen? Like a freaking porn video?”

“We could go to bed if you want,” he said. “You choose.”

She hesitated, the kitchen was not too comfortable, but it could be good for a change.

“Okay, here," she smiled.

He chuckled and restarted the kiss, passing his hand underneath her blouse. Her stomach contracted by the touch of his cold hand. He slowly moved it up to her ribcage while she grabbed the nape of his neck with both hands.

She suddenly laughed between his kisses.

"What?" he asked.

"I just think the situation is funny," she said, pressing more kisses on his lips. "We're gonna fuck because my boss told me so. Because my friend's grandmother told me so."

Jon laughed, "And because we are," he kissed her lips, "such," one more kiss, "a horny," another kiss, "couple." He let go and said, “Wait, let me bring the vibrator.”

She laughed as he rushed into his room. “Hurry up!”

#you don't have to read this #they're only here so i can share this link on ao3 #i hate deleting chapters #i keep a screenshot of all the comments every time i do so #waaaaaahhhhh #tbawy #deleted scenes

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typicallcrazystonyfangirl · 5 years

Text

Doughnut Friday (AA Stony fanfic)

HEYA. It's Rory here... Welcome to my bad AA Stony one shot with absolutely no plot and boring fluff! Now about the Story. It's basically a random thing I came up with well listing to a song and finished when I was doing my math. So its weird. I've gone back in forth between deleting it completely or deleting parts of it, but I had already done a lot of work on it so I decided not to bother. I'm also running around in it being annoying, just because. Sorry in advance for the whole thing. (This was originally on Quotev) and I suck at spelling, ok?

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"Sir..." Jarvis had said this repoachfully more times then Tony could count, and yes, there was some numbers even a super genius couldnt count to. "For the last time Jarvis, I'm fine." Tony groaned, he was not in the mood, "Sir, I don't believe your current lifestyle is considered remotely fine." Tony sighed and turned away from the computer, and looked at the ceiling. Why he looked at the ceiling, he didn't know, Jarvis did not live there or anything, but it was a habit he couldn't break, "Jarvis, you know I'm busy. Don't keep nagging me about this." "Of course Sir." If AI's could sound miffed Jarvis certainly did sound like that just then. Tony, satisfied (if not a bit guilty for being that cross with Jarvis), he would have no more trouble about this, went back to furiously typing at his computer. He was wrong.

Two hours later he heard someone open the door to his lab behind him. Brilliant. He decided not to shout at the person to get out of the lab, because he didn't know if it was Nat, and yelling at Nat was generally not a good idea. He couldn't look behind him because he was right In the middle of soldering an important piece in his suit and he didn't want to mess it up. Judging by the fact that nothing hadn't been broken yet (That crossed out Thor and Hulk), and the person wasn't shouting vine quotes already (That rulled out Rory and Clint), that left three options, Sam, Nat, or... "Jarvis seemed to think I should try to bring you back to the land of the living." ...Cap. He definitely didn't feel bad for being cross with Jarvis now. He finished he soldering and spinned around in his chair to grumpily face Steve, who was obviously trying not to smile,"Jarvis...Why?" "Your demand for me to stop nagging you did not cover requesting another Avenger to take up my battle." Jarvis said so smuggly that Tony seriously thought about donating him to a college, "Jarvis, how long has Tony been in the lab, and also much sleep has Tony been getting the last week?" Tony now really started to regret being cross with Jarvis again, " Jarvis...Don't Tell him, I'll give you more memory? New Wi-Fi?" Tony bribed, but unfortunately it didn't work. "Mr. Stark has been in the lab the last 48 hours, and has gotten a total of 12 hours of sleep this week, and I have to add only eating a bag of chips occasionally when I threaten to turn the power out. This is all despite my attempts to change his routine Sir." Tony decided not to look at Cap, and decided to turn on Jarvis instead, "Jarvis. Why? What did I do to you?" "Sir, I'm only trying to make sure you don't kill yourself working like this. Now, is the Wi-Fi offer still up?" Jarvis said innocently, "No. Deffiantly not." Tony said angerly. Cap cleared his throat, and Tony looked at him with out thinking, which was a mistake. He was glowering at Tony from the other side of the room with his arms crossed, clearly not amused anymore. Oh boy. "Seriously Tony?" Tony nodded mutely, now looking out the window. He made a mental note to never trust Jarvis ever again. He started when Steve grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the chair. "Um, what are you doing?" Tony complained, "Getting you some food then getting to your room for sleep, dragging you if I have to." Steve said exiting the lab, with Tony trailing resined behind him.

The living room-Kitchen-dining room was chaos as usual. Thor and Hulk were playing fortnight currently being watched with a mix of fear and awe by Sam, Clint was alternating between shouting at them to let him play, or yelling with/at Rory about... Something. Nat would ocaisionly make comments in their conversation, making Rory cackle and Clint wave his arms ferociously. Vast amounts of sunlight poured in from the window. All of this (and probably only getting 2 hours of sleep a week, and ditching last night all together, though he wouldn't admit it) was making him a bit dizzy and very lightheaded. He leaned slightly against the wall and blinked. Steve noticed and frowned worriedly.Tony cursed inwardly, but before he could think of an excuse, Clint noticed them. Which was bad, but of course you probably guessed that. "GUYS. These two have got it all wrong, Leo was CLEARLY meant for Hazel!" " NO HE WASN'T! HE WAS MEANT FOR CALYPSO, AND HAZEL WAS MEANT FOR FRANK. REST YOUR CASE." Rory said passionatly from the couch, and Nat nodded fervently. Tony had no idea what was going on. "Uh..." Tony tried to make any sense out of this, but couldn't. Steve clearly didn't either, and Clint seeing this gave a wail of dispair, " THEY DONT KNOWWWW!" "Which means I get the pickles. Suck up Clint. " Said Rory firmly, and Clint, moaning, handed her the jar. Rory started to eat one before seemingly realizing something. "Tony's out of his Lab." Clint gave a screech of suprise like he hadn't just talked to Tony 30 seconds ago. Nat just rolled her eyes. Steve, also remembering this, and Jarvis's little stunt to get Tony "Into the land of the living" grabbed his arm again and dragged him over to the table, "Stay. I'm going to cook something, if you try to sneak off..." He ended ominously. Tony rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Once Cap started on this track Tony had learned trying to stop it would only make things worse. He sat down at one of the stools embarrassed. The shippers (Clint, Rory, and sometimes Nat's nickname) looked at them strangely, trying to understand the exchange. Nat was the first to speak, "Um..." Steve responded in a way that Tony didn't find neccessary, "Jarvis?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the stove, and Jarvis recaped the other Avengers on Tony's schedule. Even Thor and Hulk looked up from their video game to stare at him. Tony facepalmed. "Guys, chill. It's not like I'm going to pass out or anything. " "Actually Sir, that's a very real pos-" "Shut up Jarvis." Tony said, giving the roof a death glare.

~The next day~

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" BEEP. BEEP. BEEP." Tony groaned and rolled over, then gave a yelp as he fell off his bed. Ow. "JARVIS. KILL THE ALARM PLEASE." He shouted groggily, "Sorry Sir, but I have been trying for quite awhile now. It's Friday Sir." "What does that have to do with anything?!?! Wait...Oh NO." Tony scrambled up quickly, "What time is it?!?!" He asked nervously, "It's 11:46 am Sir..." Jarvis said. Tony cursed. PLEASE let them have saved one for him...He ran frantically from the room. You see, every Friday they got doughnuts from Krispy Kreme for breakfast to celebrate the "Start of the weekend" as Clint had called it when he had first brought some to the tower( for some reason weekends started on Friday to Clint), and it had become a tradition ever sense. Today was Rory's turn to pick them up, which meant that she decided how the "Rules" worked. Rory's rules were she'd get three boxes, divide them amongst the team, and if you weren't there with in an hour then your portion goes to her. She also got extra to begin with, and you had to be nice to her all week to get any (hard to do). She generaly ran the Monopoly on doughnuts and was unforgiving when it came to the rules. Which was why Tony was running rather crazily down the hallways hoping that she had decided to get the doughnuts two hours later then normal and she had experienced bad traffic on the way back. Unfortunately, only the bad traffic seemed to have came true...As the team appeared to have eaten their doughnuts already. Tony let out a groan of doughnut-deprived despair. "EARLY BIRDS GET THE WORMS!" Said Clint happily, licking his powdered sugar covered hands just to anoy Tony. "Maybe Rory could give you her second one, she still has two-....Where'd she go?" Said Sam in suprise, for the patch of ground where Rory had been standing two seconds ago, was missing a Rory. Tony heard a loud hiss from somewhere high up, and looked to see Rory crouching behind the cereal boxes on top of the fridge, growling like an angry cat. "I'll take that as a no..." Tony said nervously. "NO.ONE.TAKES.MY.DOUGHT" She hissed, retreating farther into the shadows of breakfast food. Everyone backed away slightly. Tony sighed. Now hed have to wait a whole nother week. Just great. This was karma he supposed for living in his lab for a week, the universe had decided to revoke dessert privliges.

Steve spoke and jolted Tony out of his pastery oriented thoughts, " Here." He said handing out half of his plain cake one. Tony looked hesitantly, all to aware of the team watching him (for whatever reason, he didn't know), and also this WAS Steve's doughnut...But it did look good. Steve seemingly knowing what he was thinking, smiled, "Oh come on, I already had three." And Tony took it, "Next time you need...I don't know...Urg I can't think of anything. Well whenever you need a favor, just ask. " Tony said happily, staring at what was now his breakfast. Steve nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching. Tony was about to start to eat it, when he heard a thump and a squack, like someone had fallen out off a fridge. Rory stood up fast, the doughnuts now forgotten at her feet. When he considered the fact that she looked ready to fight to the death over them a miniute ago, he didn't think this was a good sign at all, "Um...Are you ok?" Sam asked nervously, and offered her a hand to help her up, but she waved it off, eyes wild. Oh boy. "Did you just give him half your doughnut?!?!" She asked schreichly at Steve. Tony thought this was kinda obvious as he was holding it, but decided not to say anything. "Uh...Yes?" Steve said confused, and even more confused as Rory let out a very loud and high pitched cackle. "I KNEW IT. CLINT, NAT, WITH ME NOW. WERE WRITING A FAN FIC!!" And they all ran off into the depths of the tower laughing crazily, leaving the remaining Avengers unsure on how to react in the kitchen. Sam was the first to speak, "You do know what their doing, right?" He asked Tony and Steve, they shook their heads. "No...What? Is it bad?" Tony asked, wondering if doughnuts were worth this, it was clearly looking like they weren't. "Very." Said Sam gravely, "I even helped them once. Id take that doughnut, grab a jet, and leave the country. Or at least before they post it..." "Post what?"

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~Well. Sorry for putting you poor readers through that. That's the only part I feel guilty about, my horrible writing skills. As for shipping Stony, I will NEVER-EVER fell bad for that. :)

Ps. It's Clint's turn to pick up the doughnuts this week, and he added a new rule. Ship Stony or no doughnuts. Deal with it.

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