#I’m switching between writing an English assignment and a one shot

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

one of the biggest mistakes Remus made while being friends with the Marauders is telling them that you can use glasses to start fires

[imaginativeamateur]

HEY!!!! I read your kakashi x reader in which kakshi takes care of tired reader and it was *chef’s kiss* so i was thinking if you could a kakashi x reader in which the reader gets poisoned during a mission. They get a small scratch so it does not work quickly. So when they get home, they start to feel a bit dizzy and then start coughing up blood LOTS of blood ( if you don’t mind). So kakashi gets worried and takes them to the hospital. When they get there tsunade tells them it is a rare type of poison so they will need a day or two to make the antidote. So the reader is in pain and coughing up blood. Kakashi tries their best to comfort them. Sorry it is long. Feel free to ignore it. Sorry for bad english. THANK YOU ✨

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] Unbearable

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x gn!Reader

Note: Firstly, I'm glad that you like that piece, anon:D and your idea is fantastic!!! Okay, this one is a bit longer than what I usually write for, probably around 2,000 words. It's a mix of angst and fluff, the ending is fluffy though. And I didn't know what to name this one either:D Without further ado, please enjoy!

You pushed the door open, exclaiming happily when you finally got to sniff the familiar scent of his signature dishes, “I’m home, Kakashi!”

“How was your mission, love?” Wiping his palms on a handkerchief, he lifted his eyes from the pan to quickly examine if you had any injuries.

“Absolutely successful! We captured and brought the rebels back for investigation. My captain will be reporting it to the Hokage so I’m off for now!” You made your way next to him in the kitchen, pulling off your gloves in the process, “What are you making?”

Kakashi went off talking about the dishes he was preparing for your dinner but your mind turned fuzzy in the middle of his sentence. You lost your balance and tumbled backward as your sight blurred, not able to see anything clearly. With his quick reflex, the Copy Ninja caught you by your forearm and guided you to the floor, constantly asking if you were okay. Kakashi’s visible eye widened, brows furrowing as his hands roamed to search for any injuries that his eyes did not catch. You had no fatal wounds except for several scratches here and there, and he could sense your depleted chakra level. Lifting your body up in his arms, he whispered as he carried you to your shared bedroom, “You probably overused your chakra again. You should be back to normal tomorrow after a good rest.”

You sprawled tiredly in your bed, having no appetite for a meal and Kakashi respected it, he knew when it came to reviving a Ninja’s chakra, nothing would be able to beat some decent sleep. He let you stay by yourself for a few hours and went to finish his reports, returning to check on you once in a while. When he was finally done with work, Kakashi quietly slipped under the blanket on his side of the bed, carefully scooted closer to your warmth, hugged you close, and peacefully closed his eyes. In the middle of the night, you were woken up by the burning sensation that coursed through your entire body and a terrible headache, having just enough time to flip onto your side in case you would vomit right then and there. And you suddenly coughed, your throat was torn when the crimson liquid spattered onto the white tiles, bled your shirt, and dripped down from your chin. Being a light sleeper, the silver-haired immediately shot up from his pillow, switched the lights on, and scrambled down to the ground. You were trembling for the time being, and within a split second, Kakashi scooped your motionless body in his arms, rushing for the hospital.

He knew for sure that you were poisoned given the symptoms that were starting to surface. The hospital workers were greatly intimidated by the threatening aura that he sent, still hugging you tight as he brought you to the operation room himself. You continued to cough in his arms, and he did not mind his turtleneck being covered entirely by your blood. Tsunade arrived with a hurried disposition, and Sakura followed close behind her lead. Kakashi immediately reported your condition to the Fifth Hokage, grimacing when he saw blood pooling on the hospital bed as the Medic’s chakra slowly entered your body. He fought to retain himself—to not sprint to your side and cradle you tight, to not bring his hand up and wipe the blood staining the corner of your lips. It was all too much to him to see you panting in agony—

“Sakura,” the blonde Medic commanded, “set up for poison extraction. Get three more people.”

The pink-haired left the room after her teacher’s assignment, fleeting on her feet when she saw your tightly shut eyes and Kakashi’s scary expression as though he was going to burn the place down. Tsunade turned to the Copy Ninja, who was leaning against the wall with a visible eye that settled a tone darker, and called, “Kakashi, I need you to hold Y/N down when I extract the poison.”

He shuddered, unsure if he would still be able to maintain the last bit of composure left. The silver-haired found it impossible to remain himself when came to your safety, but he padded to your side, shaking hands reaching out to the pale face of yours. The Godaime assured him that everything would be okay and the man took a deep breath, moving his palms to rest on both of your shoulders as the rest of the team arrived, getting to work the second they passed the door. Kakashi held onto your upper body and arms, pinning you down onto the bed when the blonde started to focus chakra on her hands. “It’ll hurt, make sure Y/N stays still,” she said before the glowing green entered your body.

Kakashi could feel his sweats running cold against his temple, his uncovered eye fixed on Tsunade's hands, periodically glancing back at your face to make sure that you were fine. His grip on your wrists was tight but not bruising, fearing that it would add to the pain that you were already enduring from the poison. The Copy Ninja had his other forearm across your shoulder blades, pressing your torso in place as the Medic worked diligently. It hurt and you yelped, shrieking from the pure pain every time her chakra seeped inside. Kakashi was restless, biting on his own lips to halt himself from releasing his grasp and hug you tight. Your eyes turned dull when Tsunade finally got the last bit of poison out of your system, heavily placing your head back onto the damp pillow as the silver-haired wiped the sweats on your forehead. When all of you thought it was over, things took a different turn—for worse.

Pain suddenly shot through your body, and you started to cough more vigorously than earlier, blood covered the white sheets of the hospital bed. The whole room turned their attention back on your figure, your eyelashes fluttered, wincing when you felt the tiniest bits of your muscles being squeezed and ripped apart. Kakashi stepped back when he looked at his hands smeared by your blood, and grimaced, “… Didn’t you get the poison out already?”

The Medic furrowed her brows, examining the extract she got in a test tube, “It’s my first time seeing this type.”

Kakashi went feral, “How long?”

The sounds of your coughs filled the quiet atmosphere of the operation room. Every ticking of the clock seemed too audibly loud each passing second the blonde observed the Copy Ninja’s face. She eventually sighed and turned to the exit, “I’m not sure. It will take a while for us to create the antidote.”

“You can’t leave Y/N suffering like this, Lady Tsunade,” he breathed out laboriously, “I can’t.”

Kakashi’s words left his lips like a desperate plea as he stared at the ground. Tsunade shut her eyes to summon enough vigor to walk out of the room. Sakura hesitantly left shortly after, silently closing the door after sending her former sensei a sympathetic look. With shaking legs that were almost unable to hold him up, the silver-haired made his way to a chair beside your bed, tracing his thumb across your lips to wipe the bloodstain away. As a Shinobi, he was too accustomed to seeing open wounds and deep gashes—too familiar with his body covered in blood after a mission, especially when he got injured. But seeing you in this state made him crumble in dejection and turmoil.

“Kakashi,” your inaudible whisper pulled him out of his deep thoughts, “what if I…”

Before you were able to finish your sentence, Kakashi hushed you with a sign as he pulled the blanket up to your chest, “Don’t say anything, love. I’m not going to let you…” And he trailed off, finding it hardly possible to continue what he was saying. You were still in pain, forehead scrunched up to restrain the groans from eliciting, tight fists hidden under the cover because you did not want him to be more distressed than he already was. Kakashi slouched his back, head dropping into his palms, cursing under his breath, “I should’ve come with you, should’ve been more careful, should’ve gotten you to the hospital sooner. I-I’m sorry, Y/N… Please, please just be okay.”

His words fell apart, slipping past his lips muffled and croaked. It had been a long while since he last felt the wet droplets tittering on the edge of his lash line—range and misery boiled in his veins as he swore to himself this would be the last time he would see you like this for as long as he was alive. He did not dare to look at you, not when he had to helplessly witness his dearest person suffering. Your breathing decelerated, the sweats beading your hairline and neck had long evaporated, and you fell asleep between his soft whispers, exhausted and drained.

Every hour passed with dread for everyone. Each time Tsunade came back to check on you set up a thin wall of hope but it all shattered shortly when she shook her head and withdrew out of the room. You were coughing less, but that did not ease the Copy Ninja because you were shriveling impossibly lifeless. You could not swallow whatever food they supplied, only able to intake water and intravenous fluid. It was after lunch when Tsunade knocked on the door—two days since you were brought to the hospital, one day since you went unconscious—and Kakashi went to slide it open for her. No longer displayed a hopeful expression, he could not bear the disappointment and emptiness from the Medic’s shake of her head. But this time, Tsunade came with good news.

“We found the antidote.”

A single sentence from the blonde levitated the somber atmosphere that was clouding Kakashi’s mind. A contented smile found its way across his lips—though covered by the mask, Tsunade could clearly see his pupil dilating and the furrow between his brows starting to slowly vanish. With a quick move, she injected the solution into your arm with Kakashi watching closely, not letting any details went unnoticed.

“The fever should be gone after lunch, I’m not quite sure when Y/N will wake up though. That depends on an individual’s ability to recover.” She stated, “You two take care.”

The silver-haired thanked the Godaime and shut the door after she had left for several seconds. Then, he went back for a quick shower—the last thing he wanted was you worrying for his enervated appearance after two days without rest—not forgetting to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving. When he returned, Kakashi brought a basket of fresh fruits with him, carefully peeling oranges and placing them on a plate for you in advance. He even went as far as bringing your pillow because you would be staying for another few days, and he wanted to make you feel comfortable. After checking over everything, he leaned his head back and closed his eye, stealing a quick nap with your hand in his—so he would know when you wake up.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, you quickly scanned the room, and your gaze settled on the very Hatake sleeping peacefully, then to his fingers intertwining yours. You let out a soft breath, “Thank you, Kakashi.”

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7

[guardianofrivendell]

Oh Deer (request)

Legolas x reader

Requested: Yes! @lotr-th-nin-meleth​ asked “Hey! Could I get a Legolas x Reader where the reader is caring for an injured baby deer she found in the forest and she's usually really gruff and cold and keeps to herself? So Legolas gets all soft watching her be soft and she asks him for help or something you can choose and he's just all flustered and it's cute. Thank you xxx”

A/N: I switched it up a bit, hope you don’t mind! I also skipped the ‘old’ Westron Legolas usually speaks, to make it easier for me. Because I can do that.

Warnings: one soft curse word, mentions of blood, Legolas in love (yes, that needs its own warning)

“You are remarkably quiet today,” Legolas said to you after almost half an hour of silence.  You didn’t say anything back, eyes scanning the forest around you. Legolas shook his head. There was just no way to distract you, always focused on the task you’d been given. 

You were part of the Guard of Mirkwood. From the very beginning you had proven to be an exceptionally good fighter. Every mission you were sent on turned out succesful and with no casualties, so it didn’t take long for you to be allowed to go on even more dangerous missions.  Even though you had an impressive record, being an Elleth made it extra hard. It didn’t matter how skilled you were and that you’d showed more than once that you were tougher than most of the other guards, they still belittled you for being female. So when you were on duty, you put on a facade: stern expression, cold stare and not a sound unless you were spoken to. 

Despite your gruff facade, the Prince of Mirkwood had taken a liking to you. Not that you noticed; after all, you were too busy proving your worth.  Legolas made sure he was assigned to your group on patrols or vice versa - not that he didn’t have a choice, being Prince and all - and always suggested your name when there was a two-person job. All very subtle of course.

Today had been no different. There had been a sighting of a few Orcs wandering the forest, not that far from the palace. Thranduil instructed him to send a few guards to go and solve the problem. Those ‘few guards’ turned into Legolas and you. 

And now you were making your way through the forest, hunting some Orcs, with Legolas by your side who was desperately trying to make conversation. 

“You are allowed to speak, Y/N. It’s only me.” “Yes, only you... Don’t you think it’s rather strange our King sent only two guards? How many Orcs were seen again?” “Enough to handle ourselves, do not worry.” You scoffed. “I’m not worried, you know damn well that I could take them on my ow-” A sound in the distance made you cut off your sentence. Legolas heard it too, and you signaled him to climb the trees.

You both jumped from one tree to another with ease, until you reached a small clearance. There you could see about a dozen Orcs, most of them taking a rest, a few trying to make a fire to keep the spiders away. You signaled to Legolas to stay put, while you made your way to the other side of the clearance. 

He rolled his eyes at that. Shouldn’t it be him telling you what to do? But he listened anyway and waited for your signal. In his mind he was already planning how to attack the pack, thinking he could easily kill 4 or 5 Orcs from where he was hiding before making his way down the tree. This was almost too easy. 

A screech in the distance made the Orcs jump up and 3 of them disappeared in the woods, running past the tree you were hiding in. It seemed like the pack hadn’t been complete. You waved to Legolas, signaling you would go after them. Before he could protest, you were gone.  Why did you always have to prove yourself? He had no visuals anymore, but he could hear how your feet touched the ground. Your fight had begun. 

In one swift movement he took his bow and notched an arrow, and shot the Orc closest to him. Before he let himself drop down, he killed two more. He smirked to the six remaining Orcs and switched his bow for his two blades.  “Let us begin,” he muttered.

*

It was over in less than ten minutes. They didn’t even put up a real fight, Legolas thought.  Probably too exhausted from wandering through the forest for so long. He looked around but couldn’t see any sign of you, not even with his Elven eyes. Suppressing the slight rush of panic he felt, he began to look for you. You were tough. There was no way you couldn’t handle a handful of exhausted Orcs by yourself, he kept repeating in an attempt to reassure himself.

He ran through the forest, fighting the urge to call out your name. The last thing he wanted was to alert anything else of his presence.  “Legolas!” He halted immediately, frantically looking around him in an attempt to locate you. This was not a good sign, he thought. You knew how dangerous it was to draw attention to you this deep in the forest. It could only mean one thing... “LEGOLAS!” He tried to ignore the despair in your voice, and ran as fast as he could in the direction of your scream.  After a few agonizing minutes he found you hunched over on your knees. “Y/N?”

When you turned around, his heart stopped. Your hands were covered in blood. Red, not black, he realized.   He fell to his knees at your side, his eyes searching your body for injuries. “Where are you hurt?” Your tunic was no longer a lighter green, but stained with a dark red. He tried to remain calm for your sake, on the inside he was definitely freaking out. You didn’t answer him, and burst into tears instead.  “You’re going to be okay,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Everything is going to be okay.” He put an arm under your knees and around your waist and lifted you up with the utmost care, but you stopped him.  “Y/N, I have to get you back home. Just... please, let me take care of you.” “It’s not mine,” you said in between sobs, pointing to your drenched clothes.  “What happened?” Legolas asked, completely lost by now. He sat down on his knees with you still in his arms. If he wasn’t feeling so helpless at the moment, he would enjoy holding you this close. It felt nice. “I-...” You tried to take a long breath to calm down so you could tell him what was going on, but it only made it worse. Legolas rubbed your back softly until you found your voice again, relieved it seemed to help a little. “I-... I didn’t mean to hurt him!”

Legolas looked at you questioningly. Him? He scanned your surroundings but couldn’t see anyone.  You got up from his lap and took a few steps away from him, motioning him to follow you. He had to keep himself from taking your hand.  You took another ten steps and crouched down. Legolas heard you sniffling again.  What he saw in front of your feet, was probably the last thing he expected to see. A small deer, probably still a baby, lay on the ground. A large gap in his side, clearly your work. 

“Oh,” he sighed, finally understanding why you were so upset. The deer had definitely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A laugh escaped his throat. You narrowed your eyes at him. Was he really laughing at you?  When he saw you were annoyed at him, he shook his head.

“Y/N you really are curious. Slaying Orcs, killing off spiders, you don’t bat an eye. Doesn’t affect you in the slightest. But an injured deer got you all upset?”  You felt the blood rise in your cheeks. Was it your fault you just really loved the forest animals? Someone had to take care of them, so why not you? You noticed him staring at you, a certain emotion in his eyes you could not seem to read. “What?” you asked him. “You’re cute... I mean-,” Legolas corrected himself too late. “It’s cute, the deer... is cute.”

You didn’t say anything back and Legolas cursed himself.  “You know what, let’s take it with us to the palace. I’m sure our Healers could do something for him,” he suggested. He wasn’t entirely sure they could do that, but if it would make you feel better...  “Are you sure we can do that?” “Of course we can, I’m the Prince.” He winked at you, and lifted the deer into his arms. You rolled your eyes at his cockiness. He was nothing like his father. 

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.  “Anything for you...”

A/N: Aaaaaah, I’m so bad at endings 🙈 I wanted something smart or funny, maybe I’ll change it later on if I can think of something. Sorry!

A/N part 2: It’s at times like these that I curse myself for not being a native English speaker. So sorry that my writing feels a little forced sometimes, but that’s mostly because of my lack of English vocabulary or because I can’t think of another way to say things and Google Translate can only do so much. So why not write in my own language you ask? Well... I don’t think there are a lot of Flemish (or Dutch) speaking Tumblr users waiting for Flemish lotr fics :)

[pishufics]

study date(s)

"Bertholdt knows that he needs to start trying. It’s junior year, and he’d rather not stay stuck in the same class next year as a senior. If he fails the next test, he’s in some shit. So, he's going to ask you for help."

pairing - bertholdt hoover x reader

tags - high school au, fluff, humor, texting

warnings - none

author’s note -  this was just a one shot but i kept writing lol it kind of switches between you and bertholdt, but i don't directly say his thoughts, it's kind of like 2nd person omniscient if that's even a thing LOL

lmk how the texting reads, i'll change it if it's weird

reblogs and comments are appreciated ! mwah

ao3 

chapter 1 - two days

reinah: I swear if you don’t just ASK her

Do you want to be held back?

bertoto: relax okay i’ll do it :(

r: Okay, okay

Lmk how it goes

b: i never said i was asking today

Bertholdt sighs and locks his phone once he sees Reiner start to type a reply.

Bertholdt is struggling with English, which surprises him. He’s a good student in every other class, but the moment Mr. Ackermann starts talking, he finds himself dozing off, missing the lecture. Recently, though, he’s awake in class, but still not paying attention. All his focus is on you, who sat in the middle of the classroom while he sat in the back, due to his height (he didn’t really mind, though; better chance of not getting caught asleep).

One day, due to some miraculous occurrence, the short, stern teacher actually had the boy’s attention, but not for long.

“Does anyone have number three?” Mr. Ackermann asked. Bertholdt definitely didn’t. He hoped someone would raise their hand so the teacher wouldn’t resort to calling a random name.

To his relief, you did.

“I think what the author was trying to convey was…”

Bertholdt didn’t really get what you were saying, but he admired your intelligence. You knew the material and could explain it in detail, while he couldn’t even recall the book's name in question.

He started to admire more of your traits - he gazed as you would lightly, but briskly, tap your foot in frustration when you didn’t know an answer and smile at the way your face relaxed when you finally got it. Seeing your motivation in class kickstarted his.

Bertholdt knows that he needs to start trying. It’s junior year, and he’d rather not stay stuck in the same class next year as a senior. If he fails the next test, he’s in some shit.

So, he's going to ask you for help.

...Tomorrow.

-

“Girl, I don’t have any more fucking gum. I drove up to Costco, bought the value sized pack, and you somehow managed to chew all of it.” You say exasperatedly, shutting your locker.

Sasha pouts. “Are you sureeee? There’s prolly half a stick left in your front pocket…”

You swat her hand away. “There’s. Nothing. Left. I promise.” She continues to stare at your bag.

“Fuckin-” You mutter, reaching into your bag and pulling out a snack-size bag of Cheezits. They’re one of your favorite snacks, but you know you can’t win when it comes to Sasha and food. You reluctantly hand the bag to her.

“Thanks, y/n!” She smiles and tears open the bag.

“Yknow, you can be annoying as shit, Sasha.”

She winks at you and eats her stolen prize. You turn to leave and head to 3rd period. English.

Hm. You’re usually greeted by your other best friend around now-

“Yeoooo!!” Oh, there he is. Connie daps you up before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “What’s good?”

“I don’t really wanna go to 3rd," you answer. "Sasha stole my Cheezits."

“Does anyone really wanna go to any class? And that's your fault, you know you can't bring food without Sasha's fatass taking it,” Connie replies, and Sasha punches his shoulder.

“Okay, I know...have you started studying for the test?”

He blankly stares at you. Guess not. You have the same teacher, but different periods, so you can’t keep an eye on him.

“Nevermind. I’ll see y’all later.” You throw up a peace sign and head in the opposite direction.

It’s not like you’re bad at English, but you just don’t like school in general. You go to class to get your participation grade, then go home.

There might be another reason you tolerate 3rd period, though, and it isn’t the professor. (He is pretty fine, but he's an adult, so you don’t let your thoughts escalate).

-

Mr. Ackermann didn’t like assigning things online, so most of the work in this class was on paper, contrasting your other classes where everything was digital. Kind of annoying, but you’ve learned to deal with it.

You mainly use mechanical pencils because you hate the way wooden ones write, but one day, to your slight dismay, you forgot them at home. Just your luck.

There’s a container of pencils and a sharpener in the back of the classroom, so you stand up to go retrieve one and notice a tall boy asleep in a desk not too far back from yours.

Bertholdt Hoover.

You knew him, of course. You find it a little rude to not know your classmates' names; you’ve dealt with numerous “who?”s in previous years and don’t want to put anyone through that, so you make sure to pay attention during introductions.

You chuckle at sight. The class has barely even started, and the guy is already dozing. In an awkward position, at that. One of his long legs is across the other, cramped underneath the desk. His head was laying on his right arm with his left against his hair. You thought to wake him up, but he looked so peaceful, you couldn't bring yourself to do it, plus, it's not your business. Mr Ackermann somehow didn't notice either, so Bertholdt always had a good rest in 3rd period English.

Every time you walked into class, you checked to see what weird position he would be sleeping in. You found yourself looking forward to it- he looked kinda cute when he was sleeping- but he stopped one day. You were a little disappointed, but glad to know that he was starting to pay attention in class. You still glanced at him as you walked in- he's a pretty attractive guy. No harm in just looking...

-

You shrug your backpack off and sit at your desk, stretching your legs out a bit. The walk from your locker to this classroom was kind of far. You reach into your bag, get your mechanical pencil out, and wait for Mr Ackermann to pass out the first assignment.

Just then, you hear someone walk up to your desk, and you glance over.

‘Oh, it’s Bertholdt. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken.’ You feel your face heat up, wondering what he wanted from you.

“Hey, y/n…” He nervously starts.

“Hey. Need something?”

“Yeah, actually...about the upcoming test.”

You hum in curiosity. “What about it?”

He clears his throat. “I’m lowkey failing this class, and if I mess up this test, I’ll have to retake this class next year. Do you think you could, uh…”

Bertholdt inhales in an attempt to calm himself down. It doesn’t really work.

“Could you help me study?” Phew. He managed to get it out pretty well and made a mental note to give himself a pat on the back later. But he hasn’t fully succeeded yet; you still need to agree.

You weren't opposed to the idea. You kind of figured he would be struggling in class a bit since he used to sleep all the time. It’s alright with you, and you wouldn’t mind a potential new friend. Sasha and Connie were exhausting at times.

“Yeah, sure. When?” You pause. “Actually, just text me.” You hold out your hand, asking for his phone.

Bertholdt was practically shaking in his sneakers as he reached into his pocket and handed you his unlocked phone with the contacts app open. You actually agreed! And you were giving him your number! Reiner was going to be so proud, he smiled to himself.

As you type in your info, you appreciate the cleanliness of his phone. That shows you that he’s at least hygienic.

“Aight. Here you go,” you return his device. “See you later.” You smile.

Bertholdt can’t believe this is happening.

Mr Ackermann’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Oi, Hoover. Sit down.”

Startled, he jumps back a bit at the sudden acknowledgement. He was focused on you and tuned everything else out.

“Sorry, sir.” Bertholdt gives you a quick grin and turns to go back to his desk. Once he sits, he looks down at the new contact:

y/n :)

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Bertholdt can’t help but smile. Just seeing your name and number on his screen made him giddy, and he thought that the smiley face you added was adorable.

His thoughts are interrupted yet again, but not by the teacher. He looks down at his phone, which just buzzed.

| Messages

reinah

Did you do it yet bruh

Good timing. Bertholdt taps on the notification and goes to type a reply, but decides to send him a screenshot of your contact…with your number scribbled out. Reiner was a flirt, and he didn’t want to risk anything.

r: YOOOOOOOOOO HOLY SHIT U ACTUALLY DID IT

Bertholdt rolls his eyes and puts his phone in his backpack. He was going to pay attention- for real - today. He didn't want to seem too clueless when you tutored him.

“Can anyone tell me what rhetorical strategy is being used here?” Mr. Ackermann asked.

Bertholdt certainly could not. But that was changing soon, with your help.

--

“Okaay, we got Ms. Tutor over here now,” Sasha smiles in between bites of a burger.

“Do you even know how to, like, teach, though?” Connie gives you a skeptical look.

“It prolly isn’t too hard. All I gotta do is help him study. If he needs help understanding a concept, I’ll just explain it,” you defend yourself. “We still have two weeks. Ion mind making flashcards or something.”

“You’re getting into it, huh?” Sasha laughs.

Your face heats in embarrassment. “Girl, you know it isn’t like that.”

“And why not? You’re always bitching about how lonely you are. High school isn’t gonna last forever…” she replies.

“I have no recollection of saying anything like that.” You glare. But she isn’t exactly wrong. You’d like to experience the “high school romance” you’ve heard so much about, and Bertholdt is pretty cute. It’s not like dating is a significant concern, though.

“I’m always here as an option, y/n,” Connie winks as he takes a sip of his soda.

“Hell nah.”

Across the cafeteria, Bertholdt is trying to eat a sandwich, but Reiner won’t leave him alone. He was right about Reiner being proud, but Bertholdt almost forgot how persistent the jock could get.

“I didn’t think you had the balls, dude. I was ready to see English 3 on your schedule again next year,” He grins, arm around his taller friend's shoulders.

“...Can I eat?” Bertholdt sighs and shrugs his friend away.

“Have you texted her yet? What day are you gonna hang out with her? You gonna bring her anything? Flowers or somethin’? Girls like that kinda stuff.”

Bertholdt didn’t really think that was true.

“First off, no, not yet. I need to see when I can actually go. Second, no, I am not bringing her anything. I didn’t say it was a date. She’s going to help me study.”

“Fine, man. At least try to seem more interesting, yknow, so she can like...be interested in you.”

“Are you saying I’m boring? Ouch,” He jokingly pouts and rolls his eyes at Reiner’s double usage of ‘interesting.’

“You said it, not me.”

“Okay, I don’t wanna hear that from you...if it came from Annie, then I’d believe it.” Bertholdt looks in the blonde’s direction. She took a bite from her burger, looked up from her phone, and shrugged.

“Damn, for real?” Bertholdt sinks. He didn’t think he was that dull. He did lots of interesting stuff, like…

Like…

Bertholdt sighs in defeat.

“It’s fine. Maybe y/n likes boring,” Bertholdt huffs, taking another bite from his sandwich.

“Yeah, okay, keep telling yourself that and see where it gets you…” Reiner mumbles.

“Come again?”

“Nothing, man…”

School's been over for an hour or two. You’re aimlessly scrolling through your phone when you feel a buzz, and glance towards the top of the screen.

| Messages

xxx-xxx-xxxx

hey

it’s bertholdt 😁

where should we meet up?

Your heart starts to beat a little faster. ‘Relax, girl… don't act like he's asking you out or something,’ you tell yourself.

y/n: hey!

how abt the library?

+  what day/ time works for you?

You add his number to your contacts as you wait for his response.

bertholdt :^)

is saturday at 3 okay?

y/n: yep

do you need a ride or anything?

b: no, but thank you

see you then ☺️

y/n: alrighty :)

You smile at his use of emojis, send what he requested, then swipe down on your screen to check the day (what? It's normal to forget sometimes.) Wednesday. Two days.

You feel like it would be awkward to study with Bertholdt considering you aren’t really friends, so you decide to text him a little more so it isn't too bad when the day arrives.

----

“See? That wasn’t so hard!” Reiner exclaims. “You could’ve tried to talk to her more, but it went good!”

“I think it would’ve been weird if I did say anything else. Best to leave it at that…” Bertholdt exclaims, trying to calm himself down. He had two days.

He wonders what he should do now. Study so he could impress you? Do something to make himself seem more interesting? What would he even do...?

Bertholdt taps back onto the conversation to reread it for the 6th time. Was there anything he could’ve said different? Should he try asking you someth-

Oh, wait-? You’re typing?

“Oh shit- Dude, she’s saying something else. What do I do?” He begins to panic. Did you suddenly decide he wasn’t worth your time? Were you cancelling?

y/n: sooo

how’s your day been?

Whaaaaaatttt?? You actually...care to ask?

Bertholdt stared at his phone in surprise.

“What’d she say? Cmon! Don’t just look, dude!”

“She...asked how my day’s been-”

“-You gotta reply now! You were on the chat when she said it, so she knows you’ve read it!” Reiner urges.

Shit. He doesn't have enough time to think of a good reply.

good, but better since i’m texting you 😉|

The hell? No, that’s weird. And too soon. He tries again...

pretty good, thanks!

kinda stressing over the test, haha

how’s your day going?

There we go. He twiddles his thumbs as he waits for your reply.

y/n :)

oh, dw, it’ll be fine !

my day was okay

sasha took my last bag of cheez its :(

b: ah, i'm sorry abt that :(

+ yeah, you're right

have you as my tutor :)

“Nice job man! That was...kinda flirty? You’ll get there!” Reiner ruffles his hair in encouragement, and Bertholdt shoos him away. He stares at his phone in anticipation. Was that too much?

----

i have you as my tutor :)

You lean your head on your pillow and feel your face heat up at the compliment ( was that a compliment?)

It’s not like you’re dumb, so he’s not wrong to think that. Your lips curl into a smile as you reread the message. But how do you reply? Should you compliment him back? You don’t really know.

if you’re saying i’m smart, thank you :))

hoping that wasn't sarcasm lol

You wait a minute, and he doesn’t reply, so you decide to ask another question.

is there anything specific you wanna focus on?

You cringe at the double texting, but hope that it doesn't make him think you're weird. You swipe away from the conversation and scroll on various apps as you wait.

b: ofc it wasn’t sarcasm, you're really smart, y/n!

i'm mainly struggling with rhetorical strategies and logical fallacies, but i could

use a general review too

if that's okay with you

You bury your almost overheating face into your pillow. Why is something like that getting you flustered, you wonder. You sit up, take a deep breath, and focus on the second part of his message. You're pretty good with what he needs work on, and a general review should be easy to put together.

y/n :) okay, we can focus on the first 2 on saturday

we can review the unit on other days

see you at school:)

At this point, you really don’t know how this conversation could go any further, so you ended it. Bertholdt returns your goodbye.

You exhale and sit up in your bed. Hopefully tutoring him won’t be too awkward now that you’ve spoken to him a bit, and there's still tomorrow at school to speak to him. You find yourself excited for the study date tutoring session, since you could get your homework done too.

"Two days," you smile.

[phcking-detective]

advice to writers

if you’re trying to write a scene and it keeps dragging on and ON, and you’re barely managing a couple hundred words each time you sit down to write

you might be writing in the wrong POV!

I’ve been trying to get the sequel to my reed900 fic on AO3 done before I wrapped that one up, because it only has a few chapters left and I want to start posting for the sequel as soon as possible so there’s not a huge gap, BUT every time I tried to write more it felt like writing a high school English assignment I wasn’t really interested in

for the last week I’ve written: 921, 883, 0, 0, 1093, 0, 837, and 0 words per day

today, I switched from Nines’s to Gavin’s POV to write this stupid fucking scene and I banged out 2,310 words in under three hours!

and if you’re not writing something that shares POV between two (or more) characters, still consider trying something new! 

it’s OK to leave a scene with a short summary of what SHOULD be written, and then go write the next scene. sometimes you’ll come back and realize that first scene was dragging because it really is boring and can be handwaved away by “and after they went to the DMV for five hours, they walked outside and were SHOT at by RIVAL VAMPIRES” and move on. or maybe you’ll realize that “boring” conversation is the perfect place to sprinkle in some FORESHADOWING hell yeah!

anyway I’m out of advice now but I pass on the “write 2k words in under 3 hours” blessing on to all other writers who see this, no need to reblog <3

[sociallyawkward--fics]

52 and/or 61

Oh! And let’s do a Thomas Sanders Analogical. (I’m a sucker for analogical.)

———————–

[ao3 link]

Yup yup yup! Coming right up! The only idea for a while to occur to me was one VERY similar that I’d already written for Prinxiety so hopefully I managed to get far enough away from that one lol (I think I did at least)

(Also now I meet a conundrum because I want to title this the quote from 61, but I already have the Prinxiety fic titled that lol)

Also also, Punk Logan, except I don’t really know how to write Punk Logan but it’s whatever lol. And if this seems choppy it’s because I wrote it in segments at weird times lol

52. “Are you going to talk to me?”

61. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

Word Count: 2779 (I was trying to keep it short but this is where we ended up lol)

——————————–

This was Virgil’s own personal hell. He was well and truly fucked. He should’ve never gone to school ever a day in his life just to avoid this moment.

He had to adapt a scene from a play, probably Shakespeare, he zoned out in terror before the teacher finished explaining, into modern-day language and then perform it in front of the entire class. And to top it all off, it was a partner project. He had to work with another person.

At least he wouldn’t have to perform alone.

But, just his luck, Virgil couldn’t just flock to Roman for the partner project like he always did. The teacher just had to assign partners. And Roman, with all his good luck, got that super nice new kid. Patton, Virgil thought his name was?

And Virgil got stuck with Logan Berry. The most intimidating kid in the class, maybe the school, notorious for getting into trouble on a regular basis.

“You have the rest of the class period to work with your partner,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “Pair up. And I better see working! No goofing around!”

Virgil hesitantly looked over at Logan, seeing him already packing his stuff up and and standing from his desk. Virgil took a deep breath and curled in on himself.

Roman clapped his shoulder as he left his desk next to Virgil, heading over to Patton. “Good luck, Virge. Tame the beast.”

“Yeah, right,” Virgil hissed back, glaring at Roman’s retreating back.

He jumped as Logan plopped down in Roman’s seat. Barely holding back another jump when Logan’s backpack was tossed to the ground between them.

“So we got some scene between Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing,” Logan said, sounding bored.

Virgil nodded.

“So I guess we’ll have to adapt it so that Beatrice is a dude, unless one of us wants to dress in drag.”

Virgil nodded.

“And then I suppose we’ll do the hula and get chased down by hyenas.”

Virgil started to nod, then jerked slightly and shot Logan a weird look as best as he could without meeting his eyes.

Logan rolled his eyes, Virgil could tell by the head movement, and tugged at one of the studs in his ears. “Just checking if you were actually listening.”

Virgil nodded again.

Logan buried his head in his hands. He looked up, exasperation rolling off of him in waves. “Look, we need to do this project. Are you going to talk to me? Or not?”

Virgil opened and shut his mouth a few times.

Logan ran a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingers caught in a knot and carelessly dropping the blue strands that came loose to the floor. Virgil scowled a little. That was kind of gross.

“Look, I get it, I’m scary, whatever. Everyone’s freaked out by me. Can we just do the project?”

Virgil nodded and tried to take a deep breath. “Making Beatrice a guy would be okay,” Virgil got out in a choked whisper.

Logan raised his hands to the sky, as if in praise. “He speaks!”

Virgil looked back down at his desk and scowled.

By the time they got to actually discussing their plans for switching Beatrice’s gender, the period was almost over. Virgil winced apologetically when the bell rang in the middle of one of Logan’s comments.

“You won’t have any more class time for this,” the teacher called. “You have a month and a half to finish this project, make sure you get together with your partner to finish and rehearse!”

Virgil wanted to growl at their teacher’s words. Logan actually did.

“Of course she doesn’t give us any more class time for this, she can’t even fucking teach.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and snapped to Logan’s face.

Logan turned his glare on him. “What?”

Virgil averted his eyes again and raised his hand in surrender, speedily packing his stuff. Logan ripped his notebook out of his hands, scribbled something in the margins, and shoved it back at Virgil, standing to leave.

“Let me know when you’re free to work on the project,” he said as he left.

Virgil looked down at the notebook. Messily scrawled in blue ink was a phone number.

Ugh, Virgil hated texting first.

Roman had to talk him into at lunch, Patton joining them for the meal and providing his own support. 

Eventually, Virgil did text, right before the bell to signal the end of lunch rang. Logan texted back nearly immediately and they (unfortunately) made plan’s to walk to Logan’s after school (because Virgil absolutely refused to do this at his house, even if Logan also absolutely did not want to do it at his) to make more progress on their project.

Virgil worried about it throughout the rest of his classes. He’d worked himself well up by the time he was walking out the front doors with Roman and Patton.

“He can’t be that bad,” Patton chirped, bouncing next to Roman. “Lots of people can seem scary, even if they’re super nice.”

Roman laughed. “Not sure about that, but he definitely won’t murder you if he has to do a project with you. I’ve heard others who have worked with him say that he’s secretly a nerd. Could even be in the running for valedictorian.”

“Great,” Virgil muttered. “Now I have him insulting my poor intelligence on the list of things to dread.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “You’re plenty smart.”

Virgil turned when he heard a new set of footsteps speedily coming up on them. Logan speedwalked right past their group, brushing Virgil’s shoulder as he went.

“Let’s go, then,” Logan said.

Virgil shot a panicked look at Roman and Patton before rushing to catch up.

The two of them walked in silence for the full fifteen minutes it took to get to Logan’s house. Logan unlocked the door a much smoother motion than Virgil had ever accomplished in his life and slipped his shoes off in the entryway, motioning for Virgil to do the same.

“I’m home,” Logan called into the house. “I have a classmate with me.”

A frail looking woman poked her head out from what Virgil assumed to be the kitchen. “Blueberry, dear, just in time. Can you come help me with something?”

Logan slipped his backpack off, tossing it over onto the couch, and followed what Virgil assumed to be his grandmother into the kitchen. Uncertain of what to do, Virgil followed suit.

Logan reached up and handed his grandmother a dish from the cabinet before turning back to face Virgil, still standing awkwardly in the entrance to the kitchen.

“Nan, this is Virgil. We’re working on an English project together.”

Logan’s grandmother’s face lit up. “Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you! Logan never brings home friends!” She walked forward and pulled him into a hug.

Virgil shot Logan a panicked look over her shoulder, but Logan wasn’t paying attention. Instead he had his face buried in his hands in what seemed to be mortification, his ears pink.

“Nan, we really should get to work–”

Logan’s grandmother pulled back. “Oh, of course! Virgil, will you be staying for dinner?”

He shot a look at Logan, who shrugged. “I–I guess I can?”

“Wonderful! Alright, now you boys go on and get to work. I’ll come get you when it’s time to eat.”

“Thanks, Nan.”

Logan grabbed his backpack off the couch and led Virgil to his bedroom. Which was a lot more plan than Virgil had expected.

There was a bed with navy blue sheets. A desk with a laptop. A few astronomy posters. The walls were a typical beige. Nothing at all like Virgil expected. He glanced back over at Logan to find him wiping makeup off his face.

“Not what you expected?” Logan asked.

“Not really,” Virgil mumbled, finally setting his backpack down off to the side, where it wouldn’t get in the way.

Logan sighed. “There’s a reason I didn’t want to do this here. Get set up, I’m taking my contacts out, they’ve been bugging me since fifth period.”

Virgil furrowed his brow. This was not the same guy that told the (frankly, pretty shitty) principal to suck his dick. Maybe this wouldn’t be as terrible as he had feared?

Virgil got out his English stuff and waited for Logan to come back.

They made good progress on updating their characters that night. Virgil was able to relax and finally stop whispering and mumbling. Logan’s grandmother’s cooking was delicious.

By the time Roman had arrived to pick him up and take him home, Virgil had decided that Patton was right and that Logan was a pretty chill guy. Roman still didn’t believe him, but Virgil knew it wouldn’t be that easy to convince him.

The days and weeks that followed went similarly. Logan started joining Virgil and Roman (and now Patton, as well) at lunch. At least three days of the week after school, Virgil and Logan would go to Logan’s house to work on the project. Sometimes they would meet up on weekends, too.

There was one night when Virgil had accidentally stayed too late to leave and the two had an impromptu sleepover, deciding to work further on the project as long as they were awake. At least, they were pretending to work further on the project while goofing off.

“Mrs. Mitchell is absolutely going to kill us,” Virgil snickered.

Logan let out his own laugh. “Not our fault she thinks Shakespeare is the height of literature, “nothing” literally meant “dick” back then and she gave us Much Ado About Nothing.”

Virgil buried his face in the borrowed pillow to cackle without having to worry about waking Nan.

“Not to mention,” Virgil said as he lifted his face back up, “we’re turning it into two gay guys. She’s going to hate that, I don’t think she thinks her lesson plans through.”

Logan threw his head back, lost in snorting laughter and sending his glasses flying. “Just don’t fall in love with me and we’ll be golden.”

Virgil made some sound between a scoff and a snort. “No problem, I’m just here to piss of the student body, be gay, and do crime.”

They continued their routine after that. Roman and Patton started hanging out with them on weekends, and for some reason Roman kept sending him sly looks whenever the four of them were together. Every one was met with a confused look from Virgil, but Roman would simply shrug and not say anything.

It took another three weeks, to the point where Virgil and Logan were finally getting into the rehearsal stage, for Virgil to finally realize what those sly looks meant.

Virgil tripped over his unfinished costume and Logan darted forward to catch him before he could hit the ground. Virgil laughed it off and they reset, but his cheeks were warm and his heart was beating far too quickly.

But how did Roman realize it before he did? Had he been obvious before he’d even realized he liked Logan? Did Logan know?

This was Virgil’s own personal hell. He was well and truly fucked. He should’ve never gone to school ever a day in his life just to avoid this moment.

He could not be in love with Logan Berry. There was just no way he’d like him back! 

They were only hanging out together because they were working on a project together. Another week and a half and Logan would move on, probably not even give him the time of day.

No, he couldn’t act on these feelings, and he just had to pray that Logan hadn’t noticed. He would get through this project, they would stop talking, and Virgil would get over it.

Even if Roman nagged him from that day forward.

Even if Patton started giving him sad looks when he thought none of them were looking.

Even if Logan asked him why he started being so weird.

At least Logan questioning him he was able to play off as anxiety over having to perform. And Logan bought it, thankfully, not questioning him further.

They finished their project and performed it for the class (thought not without numerous anxiety attacks on Virgil’s end, as well as him nearly throwing up the moment they stood in front of the class in their costumes and all their makeup), but even so, Logan didn’t leave.

He ate lunch with them everyday. He invited Virgil over at least one day every week, if not more. At least every other weekend they would end up having a sleepover.

And Virgil’s feelings, unfortunately, only grew.

Luckily, it seemed he had gotten rather good at keeping a cap on them. Roman and Patton stopped nagging and teasing and giving him looks. If fact, they stopped bringing it up at all. Virgil would be suspicious if he wasn’t so relieved.

It was another Friday night that turned into an impromptu sleepover. Really, it was more Saturday morning by that point, but Virgil certainly wasn’t paying attention.

Somehow in their sleepy states, Virgil had let his guard down. The two of them laid on the floor of Logan’s room, laptop at an angle they could both see and playing Star Trek episodes in the background. Virgil’s head rested on Logan’s stomach as they laid perpendicular to each other, Logan’s hand combing absent-mindedly through his hair.

“You know,” Logan sleepily mumbled, scratching a bit more against Virgil’s scalp.

Virgil hummed, both in pleasure and to show that he was listening.

“I told you not to fall in love with me. Back when we were working on that English project, remember?”

Virgil tensed, eyes shooting wide open. He was suddenly very awake, but he didn’t dare move and startle Logan out of his sleepy state. There was a chance he could pass out any minute and forget all of this, Virgil just had to keep it cool.

“I was joking, of course. But I didn’t plan on one thing. You know what that was?”

Virgil hummed again, not trusting his voice. His hands had started shaking and he twisted them into the blanket that had been haphazardly thrown over him at some point.

“I didn’t plan on me falling in love with you. And yet, here we are, aren’t we?”

Virgil gasped, shooting up into a sitting position and twisting around to look down at Logan. Logan looked startled and sat up as well.

“I-I’m sorry. The late hour must be getting to me, just ignore me, I–”

Virgil shot forward, grabbing one of Logan’s hands and using his free hand to cup Logan’s jaw. He leaned forward until their noses were touching.

“Do you mean it,” he said lowly.

“I–Yes, I mean it.”

“Well thank fuck,” Virgil said.

He leaned forward to capture Logan’s lips, feeling Logan draw in a quick breath through his nose. For a moment, Logan didn’t kiss back, and Virgil panicked. 

Then Logan pushed forward to kiss back with so much force that Virgil fell toppled backwards onto his back, landing in a pile of pillows that they’d been smacking each other with earlier. Virgil laughed and Logan leaned over him, chuckling.

“Guess I got a little overexcited,” Logan said sheepishly.

“Hey,” Virgil said flirtatiously, “I’m not complaining.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Roman teach you that?”

Virgil laughed. “Just shut up and kiss me, nerd.”

Logan complied, moving in and pinning Virgil down to the pillow pile with his body. They continued on like that for a few long minutes, completely lost in each other, the Star Trek marathon completely forgotten.

Then there was a loud knocking at the door and the two of them pulled their lips apart to look at it in a panic.

“You boys best be behaving in there,” Nan called through the door. “I don’t want to be hearing any suspicious sounds.”

Virgil threw his head back and cackled. Logan flushed from his collarbones to his hairline.

“Nan!” He yelled back. “It’s three in the morning, why are you up?!”

“I could ask the same of you boys,” she answered. “Keep it PG in there!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Virgil called through his snickers.

Logan shoved at his shoulder, which was rather ineffective considering the fact that he was the one laying down against a solid surface.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Virgil laughed.

Logan cocked his head, as if listening, then moved forward into Virgil’s space again. “Stop flirting and kiss me some more.”

Virgil grabbed Logan and rolled them over, pinning Logan down instead, grinning when his blush returned.

“Whatever you say,” he said.

Needless to say, they did not separate for some time after that.

[itrytowrite-things]

Welcome to Buzzfeed high

Summary: Reader works at Buzzfeed and is filming ‘Following a High School Schedule for 24 Hours’ video with Jazzmyne and Lindsay. Can shane and Y/N keep it professional when Shane is suppose to be her teacher? This fic is based off of this video. 

A/N: Hey guys, so how this is going to work is normal text is the actual scene and bold represents the interview scenes. I couldn’t think of a better way to distinguish between the two if you guys have any ideas please let me know. Sidenote: thanks to @fuckhead-writer for helping me edit this fic 

The small board room erupted with laughter, everyone staring down at the “school” schedule that had just been handed out. Y/N shook her head at the silly thing, already knowing that she would hate almost every second of the day tomorrow.

“Okay here is how the day is going to go,” Allsup said breaking the laughter from the head of the table. He goes into the spiel about how Buzzfeed will be running the video. The three women were prompted to vlog during any moments of the day when a camera was not set up for them. Allsup then started listing how the classes where going to be run. 

“So your going to my teacher huh?” Y/N leaned over whispering into Shane’s ear, bored of Allsup’s rant. Shane tipped back in his chair, smirking slightly. They both found the newest project extremely funny. The list of teacher/student taboo jokes would write themselves tomorrow; making the episode better.

“Okay Shane,” all the attention was turned towards the lanky man as Allsup addressed him directly. “Do you have a lesson plan for tomorrow?” The question hung in the air before Shane cracked a joke. 

“Oh yes! These women better be ready for the rigorous lesson I have planned, really going to make them work.” The group laughed at the comment before Allsup moved on to the next “teacher” asking about their lesson plans. That’s how it went the employees telling their boss that they did have a lesson plan that they were excited for, until it was Janna turns to talk about her lesson. She stood up passing out a paper to the three women that would be portraying the students. 

“I actually have a homework assignment for my students, they will be responsible for reading Act 1 scene 2 of Romeo and Juliet and writing an analysis paper on it.” Y/N’s heart started to beat a little faster. She had been great at English back in high school, but she hadn’t written a paper in ten years. Not to mention her hatred for anything Shakespeare. 

Y/N glanced down at the paper, taking in all the details of the assignment. Settling back down, she noticed the paper only had to be one page; double spaced. How hard could that be? After all the details were written up, the meeting was adjourned with the reminder that the school bus would be picking them up outside of Jazz’s house at 6:50 am. 

Y/N sat in between Jazzmyne and Lindsay, light shining down on the three of them. They were filming the intro before leaving to officially start the challenge with their homework tonight.

“Hi I’m Jazzmyne.” The woman to Y/N’s left introduced herself. 

“I’m Y/N.”

“And I am Lindsay.”

“And we are following a highschool schedule for 24 hours.” The three said at the same time, slightly out of unison. Y/N flashed the schedule to the camera giving a glimpse of what the viewers had to look forward to. 

“We have a set of rules, you disobey the rules you get a strike. Three strikes you get sent to detention.” Jazz explained. 

“The rules are simple: no skipping class, no foul language, no phones out in class without permission, no bad behavior, hall passes are required, follow the dress code, and lastly do not be tardy.” Lindsay said reading from the list they were given. 

“So what I am hearing is, all of us are going to end up in detention by the end of the day?” Y/N joked laughing. The other women soon joined in. Jazzymne stated what rules she would have a problem with before announcing their homework assignment.

“We have to write an essay on Romeo and Juliet. It has to be a page analyzing act 1 scene 2.”

“It’s double spaced right?” Lindsay asked, giving a worried face to the camera. 

“My significant other, K8, is a 9th grade english teacher who teaches Romeo and Juliet.” Jazz mentioned, leaving both of the other women mouth’s in a pout. 

“Well, that’s just not fair.” Y/N stated.  

Y/N sat on the floor with her legs crossed, knees pressed up against the coffee table. Her laptop sat open to an empty word doc, the paper describing her assignment sat next to it. She quickly pulled out the small black camera Buzzfeed had supplied her for vlogging. 

“Okay guys so It’s 9 o’clock at night. I have read the act, understood almost nothing, and now I am going to attempt to write my paper.” The woman talked to the camera before switching it around showing her blank doc. “Shane refuses to help me.” Y/N turned the device again showing her boyfriend slumped on the couch above her, typing on his phone.

“Sorry, have to do it on your own.” He says unapologetically, shrugging his shoulders dramatically for the camera. She shut the viewfinder and placed the camera on the table. Y/N scanned over the requirements of the assignment once again before typing in the doc.

So wrapped up in her work, Y/N didn’t even notice Shane slide off the couch onto the floor. Him reading over her shoulder. He placed a quick kiss to her arm startling her out of her work flow.

“It’s good sweetheart, really good.” Shane wraps his extremely long arms around the small woman, smiling as she continues typing.

“Thanks bub.” She said taking her left hand off of the keys, and nessiling it in his floppy brown hair. He smiled happily pushing his head into her hand. Kissing at her neck, a laugh escaped her diaphragm. 

“Shane. Stop. Have to. Finish my paper.” She let out in between giggles. 

“Mmh or you could blow it off like a real high school student.” He suggests looking down at the clock on her laptop. It flashed 10:39 in the lower right hand corner. Y/N turned her head, looking into his golden brown eyes. The puppy dog look that was displayed on them melted her heart. Causing a smile to appear on her face, she pressed her lips against Shane’s for a short kiss. She was reluctant to pull away. 

“I am almost done babe, go play some video games or something. I promise ten more minutes and I will be finished.” Shane let out a pout, kissing her again before standing up. His long legs unfolded as he stands, them cracking slightly, producing another laugh from Y/N. 

She was a woman of her word. Less than ten minutes later, she closed her laptop, happy with her paper. Y/N looked up at Shane, he had changed into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white tee. He looked comfortable. his thumbs lazily moving across the Xbox controller. She stood in front of him, smiling down at him. Shane raised his head to peer up at her, pausing his game. She crawled into his lap, watching as he returned her smile with one equally as kind. 

“So Mr. Madej, what will you be teaching me in class tomorrow?” She asked in a teasing tone, hands wrapped around his neck. He placed a hand on her back, the other to her hip as his thumb rubbed her hipbone like the controller, lazy and soft.

“Mmh can’t tell you that princess, now can I? That’s just not fair to my other students.” His voice was a soft whisper as he spoke. She stuck her tongue out at him, giving him a kiss before laying her head in the crock of his neck, feeling suddenly tired in his warm embrace.   

 “Well let’s get you to bed little lady. Big day tomorrow, first day of school.” Shane stood up, as Y/N clung to his body sleepily. Legs wrapping around his slender waist as he carried her to bed. 

Her arm shot out immediatly, shutting off the stupid alarm. One of the perks of working at Buzzfeed, is they normally have pretty slack business hours. Which meant the women normally strolled in at 10, but not today. Her alarm was set for 5:50 last night and it did not disappoint, going off at 5:50 am on the dot. Y/N  tugged on the string of her lamp. Rolling over, she was met with Shane’s bareback. She moved closer to him, craving his warmth. As soon as her body was press against his, Shane was turning around. 

“Got to get up sweetheart, suppose to be vlogging.” Sitting up, he kissed her on the forehead before getting out of bed and walking into the master bathroom they share. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. 

The vlog camera was held above her as she laid back down into the bed, head resting on her pillow. 

“It’s currently 5:58,” she said and held up her phone showing the time “This freaking sucks, I don’t want to get out of bed.” She snuggled closer into her pillow before switching the camera off and getting out of bed.  

“It was the worst part.” Y/N claimed, pouting at the camera. Jazz and Lindsay nodded in agreement 

“Like I remember pulling all nighters or staying up until 4 am doing school work in highschool and waking up at 6. I have no idea how I did that, I only stayed up until like 11:30 the night before and it took everything out of me to get out of bed in the morning.” Y/N explained herself. 

“Exactly! Damn teenageers are ruthless.” Jazzmyne added. 

“Yeah, I certainly don’t miss that part of school.” Lindsay said making the final statement. 

It wasn’t until 6:48 when Y/N pulled out the camera again. She was in her car outside of Jazzmyne’s house. She huffed lightly, straightening out her baby blue jean jacket. It was over a black band tee paired with black ripped jeans. She decided to dress like she did in highschool going back to her edgy roots. 

“So It’s 6:48. The bus gets here at 6:50 and I am just now arriving at Jazz’s house, so that’s my morning. Oh there’s Lindsay. Glad we all don’t have our shit together.” She turned the camera showing Lindsay pointing her camera at Y/N. They both gave an unenthusiastic wave to the other person’s camera. Before stepping out of her car, Y/N turned her camera off shuffling over towards Lindsay to get in the frame of her camera. 

“So running late as well?” Lindsay poses the question with a laugh, Y/N just nodded her head laughing as well. 

“If we are running behind, I can’t imagine what Jazz is like.” Y/N said adding fuel to their laughter. 

“The bus was suppose to leave at 6:51. I didn’t walk out of my house until 6:53.” Jazz rolled her head with statement, her black frame sunglasses sliding down her face. 

“Thankfully the bus was still there. Normally that would not happen.” Lindsey butted in.  

“Actually I made really good friends with my bus drivers, they would have waited for me.” The woman on the left clapped back.  

“Of course you did. I can see it now, ‘Oh Jazzmyne, I love her let me just give a little honk’.” Y/N pushed her palm against the air to stimulate a horn. The three women busted out laughing knowing that’s exactly what happened. 

Allsup was standing outside of the office in a suit, his hands held behind his back looking strikingly like a real principal. Y/N so desperately want to laugh at the man pacing in front of the door. The three women dropped their heads as they passed him on their way into the building, each mumbling their own version of ‘Hello Principal Allsup’.

Buzzfeed had went all out for this video, even going as far as making a little hallway lined with lockers with posters hanging around them promoting fake clubs and plays. Each woman chose a locker and placed their gym clothes in it along with anything extra they didn’t need. The women stared at each other after they closed their lockers.

“Okay well I have to go do morning announcements.” The blonde said sipping what Y/N assumed was water through a pink straw. 

“Okay, see you in first hour.” Jazz said throwing her backpack over her shoulder and heading towards stage 8 for their first class of the day. Y/N gave a small wave to Lindsay before following behind Jazz. 

“Our schedule starts with history with Mr. Madej.” Lindsay points out while waving the schedule back and forth in front of the camera. She turned to wiggle her eyebrows at Y/N. Y/N felt a small blush heat up her face. 

“We know that will be your favorite class.” Jazz said and bumped shoulders with the woman teasingly. 

“What can I say, I like history.” She retaliated, shrugging her shoulders. 

First hour was with Shane, and Y/N couldn’t help but be excited to see him. They typically get to commute to work together. She missed that time they normally got to share together, so she was eager to see him.

“This is so cute.” Jazz said gesturing to the tiny classroom that Buzzfeed had set up in stage 8. It truly was cute, a little chalkboard was set up in front of the room, a world map drawn on it in chalk. There was a table with three red chairs in front of the board. A small circular table sat next to the board, a water bottle and book placed on it. Then there was Shane. He leaned over the tiny table reading the book. 

That’s what Y/N eyes trained on, she couldn’t focus on anything else. Shane was dressed professionally, wearing a white and navy blue striped button down paired with a red tie. It made his torso look long and lean. His lengthy legs were covered by black skinny jeans held up by a brown belt. He looked so handsome. Her eyes couldn’t focus on anything else, her mouth felt dry looking at him. 

“Good morning.” Shane Mr. Madej said as the two women entered the room. He nodded softly, watching as they took their seats next to each other. Jazz sat in the middle seat as Y/N took the one closest to the wall. 

“You look spiffy.” Jazz said from her seat.

“Oh thank you.” Shane replied looking down at his outfit, tugging at his tie. Y/N nodded her head in agreement. Words not really working out for her at the moment. They sat in silence for a moment before the speaker crackled from somewhere in the room. Allsup’s voice filled the room. 

“Goodmorning Buzzfeed High! Hope you all have a fun day, but remember to have fun, you have to follow the rules.” Shane pointed up in the air at the word ‘follow’ and back to the two women at the word ‘rules’. Y/N and Jazz laughed pointing a finger back at him. There was silence as the mic was passed to Lindsay. 

“Please stand for the pledge of Allegiance.” Her voice boomed. 

“Here we go I was waiting for that.” Shane smiled pointing towards the small American flag that he had taped up on a bookshelf. Y/N smiled at his pride for the tiny flag. The announcements carried on with Lindsay stumbling through the lunch menu. 

“What the hell? These announcements suck.” Jazz laughed. The mic was passed back to principle Allsup. 

“Let’s go corgi’s, go get them, woof woof!” And that was the end of morning announcements. 

Lindsay soon joined the other two women in history, taking her seat next to Jazz. She placed her bag on the floor getting comfortable for the lesson. 

“How’s everyone doing this morning?” Mr.Madej asked clapping his large hands together. 

“Well you know, it’s early.” Jazzmyne mumbled back at him. 

“I am gonna see if I can switch this board around.” He pushed the board forward trying to flip it to the other side. He unfortunately didn’t pull it forward enough, causing it to smack against the wall. The sound echoed throughout the room. She tried to hold it in, she really did, but Y/N couldn’t fight back the bubbling laughter that flowed out of her. Shane’s head snapped back to the woman, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“You think that’s funny Miss.Y/L/N?” 

“Yes.” She gasped, barely getting it out among the fits of laughter. Shane stared her down, trying to be serious but he couldn’t help but laugh back. Everything about Y/N was contagious, so it wasn’t a surprise when only laughter filled the room. 

“Mr. Madej was a cool teacher.” Jazz stated, Lindsay nodding her head in agreement. 

“It was a nice way to start off the day.” The blonde said. 

“He was hot.” Y/N said dryly, like him being hot was a fact not a statement. The other woman burst out laughing. 

“He just had a great way of connecting with us, having fun.” Lindsay added trying to get the conversation back on topic, but failed as the next thing out of Y/N mouth was:

“I really wish I could have connected with him a little more if you know what I mean” She gave a wink to the camera and a smirk to go along with it. 

Y/N blanked out as Shane started his lesson. Her focus was on the way Shane moved around the chalkboard, scribbling his messy handwriting in orange chalk. She watched his lips move, he was talking about something history related she was sure of that, but she didn’t exactly know what. 

“Miss. Y/L/N are you okay?” His voice snapped her out of her trance. 

“Yes sorry just a bit distracted.” 

“And what is distracting you?”

“You are, with those tight jeans and perfect lips.” She teased back at him, Lindsay snickered at the comment.

“That’s highly inappropriate Miss. Y/L/N.”

“I believe that falls under bad behavior Mr. Madej.” Jazz points out smirking at Y/N. Her eyes widening back at the short haired woman. 

“I am afraid I have to agree, sorry that’s a strike.” Y/N’s face was priceless as her mouth hung open, her eyes so wide they might explode out from her. 

Jazz tried to talk, but the laughter was too much. She and Lindsay both hunched over with their laughter. Y/N on the other hand, sat in the middle, fake fuming for the sake of good entertainment. 

“Okay sorry,” Jazzmyne said finally calming herself down “So Y/N got a strike for flirting with a teacher.” 

“I really thought it would be Jazz to get a strike for being inappropriate, but here comes Y/N talking about Mr. Madej’s tight jeans and perfect lips.” Both women laughed at the reintroduction of Y/N words. 

“He really should have been filtered.” She crossed her arms over her chest a pout coming out on her lips. 

“But the best part was a second later she got another strike because she flicked him off when she thought he wasn’t looking.” The women were almost on the floor at that point. 

The bell rang dismissing the women to the next class which was Englsih with Ms.Macatangay. The women underestimated the time they had to get to this class, causing them to have to run up the stairs nearly dying on the way. They luckily made it just in the nick of time. They were forced to read their homework assignments in class, which made Y/N feel like she was actually back in highschool, anxiety racing through her. However, she recited it without a hitch.

Before the women knew it, it was time for P.E. They had survived physics and Spanish and they were on their way to grab their gym clothes out of their lockers. Buzzfeed had made cute little gym shirt they were black and read “Buzzfeed 2019 highschool athletic department” in white. The women were also granted other classmates in this class. Of course among those classmates was the famous Ryan Bergara. Through the two years of dating Shane, Y/N and Ryan had became somewhat close. Bonding over their shared love for the tall boy like man. So it was natural when he dropped down next to her on the floor.

“Ten minutes into P.E and Jazz gets called out for talking.” Lindsay says. 

“All I said was she was thick.” She defended herself. 

“Which I think is unfair that I got a strike for that.” Y/N chimed in. 

“That was different, I didn’t tell her to her face that she had perfect lips.” Y/N face heated up as she smirked. 

The dodgeball game started with a whistle. It was Y/N and Jazzmyne on one team and Lindsay and Ryan on the other. Y/N’s team lost the first game prompting Ryan to trash talk to her about her crappy throwing skills. Which was not a good idea because now she was out of blood. She waited for the whistle, foot touching the back wall, staring daggers at Ryan. She used her foot to push off as soon as the whistle sounded. Y/N quickly grabbed a blue ball, aiming it straight at Ryan.

“This is for trying to steal my boyfriend Bergara!” She shouted, ball flying out of her hand hitting Ryan right in the gut. He played up the pain for the camera hobbling over towards the sidelines grumbling about how Shane was his first. Her team ended up winning the second and third game. 

Lunch was the worst, the food was cold. It also didn’t help that everyone else in the office was eating chipotle. Y/N was over the day at that point. She was hungry, tired, and her brain ached from all the knowledge that had been thrown at her. She grumbled her way back up the stairs for 6th hour which was math.

“I walked in thinking it was pre-cal, but it was trig I never took that class in highschool.” Lindsay complained. 

“Same.” 

“I took it, but I didn’t remember anything.” Y/N stated, her enthusiasm slipping. 

Y/N sat through the class, head in her hands trying to understand what Mr. St.Juste was writing on the board. She might have been the only one to take the class in highschool, but it didn’t make the subject any less alien to her. Luckily they all passed and were on their way to their last class, home ec with Mrs. Mcclenny. They were making Tamagoyaki, a japanese style omelette. It was delicious which was amazing because Y/N was starving. A huge sigh left all three women lips as the final bell rang. 

“It was exhausting and I never want to do it again.” Y/N stated bluntly. 

“Yeah, teenagers deal with a lot of shit and we should appreciate them more.” Lindsay said. 

“Exactly, well that was following a highschool schedule. We are going to go home and sleep for five years.” Jazz said. 

“Bye!” All three said in unison waving at the camera. 

Y/N was slowly grabbing things out of her locker when Shane creeped up and leant against the locker next to hers. Looking like a stereotypical jock from a teen movie. He smiled, watching as her slumped body packed up her things. 

“Need help with that beautiful?” She smiled as his voice put some energy back into her. 

“Do you flirt with all your students Mr.Madej?” She asked walking away from him. He followed after her, a cheeky smirk played on his face. They dropped the subject on their walk to the car. 

“I am so tired Shane, today was fun but awful.” She groaned resting her hand against the handle of the car. 

“Well, let me take you home and make it better princess.” A smug grin crossed his face. 

“I don’t think so asshole, you gave me two strikes.” She held up two fingers before sliding into the car, Shanes grin fell as he too got in the car 

“You’re joking right?” He asked hopefully. 

“I don’t know, get me home and we’ll see.” The grin returned as he started the car. I guess sleep could wait a little longer. 

[peonybane]

Bangtan Romances Anonymous: Part I-- J-Hope

PART I (Sparks of Attraction): Dancing on Cloud 9

Pairing: Jung Hoseok (J-Hope) x Reader

Word Count: 2.8 k

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Crack?

Summary: Seven men. Seven different professions within BigHIT. Seven paths. Which romance will you choose?

a/n: Hello everyone and welcome to the second installation of Bangtan Romances Anonymous! Once again, I’m sorry for not having Chapter 14 of Agape and Pragma ready, but hopefully, this will be satisfactory enough for this week! It is purely coincidence that this flower ended up being freesia. I didn’t know of the inside joke until I was working on other stories after I finished writing this one.

Please note, all stories interlace with each other so if the context doesn’t necessarily make sense, will once each part is published in its entirety.

> WOULD YOU LIKE TO START OVER?

> YES: Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jeongguk

> NO: Continue below

For the freesia, there are many meanings. But its mostly looked as a flower of grace, particularly the ballerina variety. It is a flower of friendship. A flower that blooms like no other when bathed in eternal Sunshine.

Hoseok was excited. But honestly, he was always excited, just right now he was more excited than usual. Not only did he love this song that was going to be lead track for this comeback, but the dance line was going to be partnered up with foreign ballerinas. Today was going to be the first meeting and they’d be working closely together for the next few weeks. 

Dragging Jungkook and Jimin along behind him, Hoseok found his way to the dance practice room. Upon opening the door, the boys were met with the sight of three girls sitting at a table along with the project director. Hoseok looked at their faces, smiling, though he could feel his smile widen a little more when his gaze fell onto the girl at the far corner of the table; he hadn’t expected the third one to be much prettier than the already fairly pretty first ones.

The boys said their greetings and took their seats. Being his over eager self, Hoseok, placed himself across from the table of the girl in the far corner. As he sat down, she offered a small smile, her gaze glancing away out of shyness. Just as Hoseok was about to open his mouth to introduce himself, the director cleared his though.

“Thank you for joining us. As you boys can see, these are going to be your partners for this project.” He introduced each girl, Carmine, Adia, and (Y/N). Hoseok repeated her name quietly to himself as she turned away from him briefly to  say her greeting to Jungkook and Jimin. 

The director continued, “We haven’t assigned who will be working together yet because I want there to be a chemistry. We’ll be doing a lot of close shots on your faces, so we want those gazes to feel real. So, before we decide on who’s going to be paired up, we’ll have you get to know one another and then this afternoon, we’ll be evaluating the dance chemistry between you all with the lead choreographer. Now,” the director turned to the three ballerinas, “these gentlemen are not familiar with your work, so if you could please demonstrate your skills?”

Adia and Carmine smiled and nodded, but (Y/N), smiled like the other two, but her eyes lit up in a way Hoseok knew all too well… it was the same look that he had when he danced. She volunteered to go first and she practically floated as she skipped, very excited to show off what she could do. Adia and Carmine smiled, going to help her set up the music station. She took position and the music started.

Hoseok was transfixed: she moved with a regal grace, he face matching the delicate, ethereal tune of the music. She reminded him of a delicate flower… freesia. She reminded him of freesia, the sweet, citrusy smelling flower. She was his Freesia.

Had he not been so transfixed, he would have noticed the same thing as the other two: Adia and Carmine were starting to get excited and giddy— like they were expecting something. The beat suddenly dropped and instead of a delicate, classical tune, the speakers were now cranking a modern rock piece. His Freesia went from seemingly sad and delicate to fierce and dangerous. From classical ballet to a wild modern fusion. The exhilarating change almost gave him whiplash. Adia and Carmine were jumping up and down, excited 

Watching her energy and excitement pumped him up, just as he was about to stand up and join her out of sheer excitement, the song returned to its sweet melody and so did her demeanor, her face retaking a remorseful gaze, if no one had known any better, she looked like she could weep at any given moment.

As the music finished, Hoseok stood up so quickly he also flipped over his chair, had Jimin not caught it in time. He whooped excitedly, causing her to shyly tuck her hair behind her ear as she bowed, her face flushing. 

Soon, she took Adia’s place on the side, and the girls continued to demonstrate their skills. Throughout the other girls’ performances, Hoseok continued to steal glances at his Freesia. 

Once the girls had finished, they sat back down. Before the director could continue, Hoseok leaned towards her and whispered, “That was fantastic! I couldn’t look away.”

She murmured her thanks just as the director cleared his throat. “That was lovely, ladies. Hopefully, that’ll give you an idea of the talent you’ll be working with for this project. For now, I’ll leave you six to get to know one another until lunch, then we’ll do the choreography test.”

Everyone nodded and stood as the director did out of respect. As he left, other staff members started filling in, going about needed tasks. Immediately, Hoseok turned his attention to his Freesia, dominating her attention as he excitedly asked her question after question, all the while trying to get her to laugh. And by god, did she have a magic laugh.

He’d never know it, but she was not used to being the center of someone’s attention, not in this capacity though. She answered his questions and him some, all the while, trying to include the other four. But Hoseok seemed to have forgotten about everyone else until she mentioned someone else by name. Then his attention was there, but only long enough to be engaged before continuing to try to learn as much as possible as her. 

Things continued like this until it was time for lunch. Hoseok went to invite her to lunch, but she quickly stopped him, explaining how she and the other two had already made plans for lunch, just the three of them. He tried very hard to not let on how disappointed he was, but told her that it was fine. She smiled sweetly at him, bowing slightly before joining the other two.

The moment the ballerinas were out of earshot, Jungkook and Jimin both rested their arms on Hoseok’s shoulders. Jungkook asked, “Hyung, could you be anymore obvious?”

Jimin laughed, “You were practically drooling over her.”

Jungkook laughed before making a jab at Jimin, “What? Like how you chase that English tutor?”

“Oi! You’re one to talk. Have you spoken a word to your dongsaeng’s assistant manager since she told you off for messing with their practice time?”

Jungkook immediately blushed, opening his mouth to retort, but was cut short as Hoseok shrugged them off. “First, off I’m not drooling. Secondly, is it so wrong to shower a lovely dancer in compliments?”

Hoseok walked off, heading for lunch. And to hide the blush that had started to crawl up his face.

~^~^~^~

Returning from lunch, the boys found the ballerinas giggling amongst themselves as they stretched. They briefly waved at the boys before returning to their stretching. Jimin nudged Hoseok as he walked past him, shooting him a suggestive look as he looked between his hyung and the girl of said hyung’s interest.

Hoseok just shook his head and started stretching himself, but that didn’t stop him from stealing glances.

A few minutes later, the choreographer entered and began discussing the testing choreography. The choreography had be given to them weeks before hand. It was a simple thing that could be practiced alone for the most part, but it was enough to test the chemistry between dancers. “Since these ladies are our guests, we’ll let them decide who they want to work with first.”

The girls nodded and did rock, paper, scissors amongst themselves. Hoseok could feel his pulse pick up slightly as his Freesia won the first round. She glanced over at the boys and bit her lip thinking. “Ummm, Jimin-ssi?”

Hoseok felt disappointed but didn’t let it show. He kept the hurt feelings at bay as she smiled sweetly at Jimin and he returned the smile. During the first round, Jungkook paired up with Carmine, and he paired up with Adia. He liked her well enough, she was a quick study, but it wasn’t much of a connection.

The pairs practiced for an hour, getting used each other’s dynamics. The choreographer called time. Each pair took turns performing the short piece, letting the choreographer evaluate. Hoseok paid attention when Jimin and his Freesia stood up. They began dancing, he watched intently, rather, he watched her intently.

Once they finished, Hoseok let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. They were each powerful dancers and expressive, but their energies just weren’t compatible. It was lovely to watch, but there was emotional dynamics between the two.

Once they had finished, it was time to switch partners. Again, the choreographer had the girls choose and once again they did rock, paper, scissors. This time though, Adia and Carmine won. Carmine paired up with Jimin and Adia teamed up with Jungkook, leaving Hoseok with his Freesia. And he couldn’t be more elated. 

He got her to laugh and was generally enjoying himself as they practiced. When it came to actually performing, he felt nervous. Hoseok desperately wanted to be paired up with her, so he had to do the best that he could. In the hour (ok, perhaps longer since the choreographer noticed the fun everyone was having) that it took to practice together, Hoseok felt that time passed too quickly. His enjoyment cut short by the choreographer telling them it was time to evaluate. 

This time around, Adia and Jungkook went first, then Jimin and Carmine. After two lovely performances, it was their turn. The pair took their positions, facing each other. Hoseok flashed her a reassuring smiling, one that she returned in kind. 

The moment the music began, their energy changed. It was slightly sensual song, but it more about the emotional trust and connection you could form with someone else. As they danced, Hoseok could’ve sworn their souls became one, their breathing matched up, their gaze never leaving one another’s— he was on cloud 9.

Much too soon for Hoseok’s liking, the song came to a stop. Both of them continued to stare at each other for a moment or two longer, both panting slightly. It was quiet, almost eerily before Jimin stood up and clapped his applause. His Freesia began blushing, feeling shy from the attention. Normally, Hoseok would have some sort of words to say, but he was utterly speechless, surprised by the passion she had dancing not just alone, but with a partner.

It was finally time for the last switch up. Another hour went by with each pair practicing together. As soon as Hoseok and Carmine finished up their turn, it was Jungkook and (Y/N)’s turn. Watching the two of them perform made his heart falter. There was chemistry there, god was there chemistry. She looked at Jungkook fondly, and he returned the same look towards her. They moved smoothly and without hesitation. Hoseok felt a twinge of jealousy, his smile faltered.

As soon as they finished dancing, Jungkook thanked her for dancing and it was time for Jimin and Adia. But Hoseok only paid half attention, his attention constantly being stolen by the interaction between Jungkook and his currently dance partner and he opened her water bottle for her.

Hoseok had to remind himself that even if he couldn’t be her dance partner, they’d still be working together… for the remainder of this project. He had to admit it to himself— he already had a bit of crush on her, but if nothing came of it, it would just be a friendship, a friendship he hoped would last for a long while.

The choreographer gathered his notes. “Thank you, everyone. I’ll be going over these this evening with the director. We’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow to tell you the pairings.”

Everyone bid him farewell. Jimin then turned back to everyone. “Well, it was great meeting you three. Normally, I think’d be great if the six of us went out for dinner, but I think Carmine mentioned that you three have plans for tonight.”

The three girls murmured their acknowledgement, already taking off their dance shoes, switching them out for something else. Adia replied, “Yeah, we’re going to go catch a dinner and show.”

Hoseok replied, “That sounds fun! Next time we should all go.”

The girls giggled and agreed before all six left the dance room, the girls going out to the dinner show and the boys headed back to the dorms. Once there, Hoseok flopped down on the couch and let out a deep sigh. From the nearby chair, Yoongi continued to play on his phone as he inquired, “What’s wrong with you?”

Before Hoseok could reply that he was just tired (which he was, just more emotionally exhausted than physically exhausted), Jungkook teased, “He met the love of his life.”

Jungkook made kissy faced at his hyung before a pillow was thrown at him. Jimin stifled a laugh, not wanting a pillow thrown at him quite yet. Jungkook though hadn’t had enough fun teasing his hyung. “Come on, Jimin-hyung, tell them. Hyung practically had heart eyes looking at her.”

Yoongi chuckled, glancing up in time to see the death glare that Hoseok shot the youngest. Before Hoseok could cuss Jungkook out, Jin called time for dinner. Hoseok was thankful for the attention being drawn away from him for once as everyone started grilling Taehyung on his first official date with the set artist.

~^~^~^~

Hoseok arrived sooner than the others, not only to get to practicing sooner, but also to work out his own nerves. He had a hard time getting any real sleep, often drifting in and out of full consciousness and that half-dream state where you never truly get the rest you need, but you’re still ‘asleep’. He was already practicing some stuff on his own when his Freesia walked in with the choreographer, talking some things over. 

“Ah, Hoseok-ah. I’m glad you’re here early. I can teach you and (Y/N)-ssi the choreography so you can help the others during practice.”

For a moment, his heart jumped into his throat. Did that mean what he thought it did? 

The choreographer continued, “I think as a quick study you have good chemistry with the prima ballerina for this project, so for this project you’ll paired up together.”

Awkwardly, Hoseok raised his hand, still not believing what he’s hearing, “A-And the prima ballerina would be?”

His Freesia pointed to herself and smiled. Hoseok returned the smile, now feeling completely energized. The choreographer seemed to have taken notice of that and he began working with the pair of them on the choreography.

~^~^~^~

They were surprising compatible in the area of learning choreography. While Hoseok could pick it up rather quickly, he was an almost harsh teacher, expecting nothing but the best after the first few go throughs. She on the other hand was not as quick of a study, but once she had it down, she was a patient and gentle teacher, slowly the movements down greatly to show everything.

They had been working well into the night, with Jimin, Jungkook, and the other two ballerinas, leaving earlier in the night. Rather than turning in, the pair continued to work, trying to figure out some new choreography to suggest the next day.

The night came to a screeching halt when exhaustion slowly caught up with her and she ended up falling into the splits on accident, making her yelp in pain. Immediately, Hoseok was at her side. “Hey! You alright?”

She hissed, not being prepared for the movement as she brought her legs back to normal. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired now. We should probably call it a night.”

“Yeah… I guess we should.”

She looked up at him. “Something wrong?”

He smiled. “No, nothing is wrong!”

“Come on, J-Hope-ssi. Don’t lie to me, now.”

He sighed as he helped her back to her feet. “Well, I was hoping to spend more time with you. I really enjoy talking and working with you.”

She smiled sweetly then bit her lip as she thought. She glanced up at him. “Breakfast.”

“Hmmm?”

“Let’s go grab breakfast tomorrow morning and we can talk over the choreography there.”

He returned her smile, a smile bright enough to turn the dark into day. “I know this great cafe! You’ll love it! It’s got—“

He led her out of the practice room to take her back to her hotel, all the while remaining on cloud 9.

As always, reviews, comments, asks, and tags are always loved! ~Peony

Also, please note that I do NOT do tagging lists. Please see my FAQ for why.

> WOULD YOU LIKE TO START OVER?

> YES: Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jeongguk

> NO: Next (PART II TBP) —>

> Bangtan Romances Anonymous Masterlist

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[urfavepisces]

it was all fake right?/peter kavinsky  one shot pt. II

a/n: i honestly can’t believe all of the love you’ve all shown me on ‘this is fake right?’! thank you so much for reading it and i hope this next part is equally entertaining. also the line breaks and italicized words indicate that it happened in the past. once again i hope you all enjoy this one (:

part I (this is fake right?)

word count: 2,540 (yikes, sorry i got carried away)

warnings: a few cuss words lmao 

“The limit does not exist if-if the value of x is zero?” You turned the note card around to reveal if you had gotten it right and seeing the answer made you shout out, “YES!” Immediately making the other kids look up at you glaring in your direction.

You hunched back into your seat, “My bad.” You offered a sheepish smile but were met with a few of them rolling their eyes at you and went back to their own text books and laptops.

You’d been studying nonstop for your Calculus midterm coming up in a couple of weeks and you needed an A especially if you were going to pass the class. Currently, you barely had a B and you were freaking out. The universities you were going to be applying to in a year and a half needed to see that you took school serious and your future depended on it.

Usually you were on top of your shit. When projects were assigned you usually planned them out the next day and had them done at least a week before they were due. Tests were a toss up to be honest, when it came to English and History either you knew it or you didn’t. So studying for those two subjects rarely happened. However, when it came to Calculus and Spanish you  were always making sure you got the material down before a quiz, midterm and especially a final.

But ever since you and Peter decided to start this fake relationship your priorities had shuffled and school became second when it came to him. You two were halfway through the second month of it and you were falling behind on your classes that you knew you needed to put in extra effort to comprehend the material.

Mrs. McBride and Mr. Barrios were disappointed in your lack of care for their class. You hung your head in shame when they confronted you on your poor performance in their class, they even said they’d wanted to contact your Dad but you let them know that you would definitely be trying a lot harder from now on.  

He had more on his plate than he could handle at times and he didn’t need to worry about how you were doing in school. You couldn’t stand to disappointed the sweet man.

You shook your head and focused back on the flash cards before you. You went through them three more times before you switched over to finishing an assignment for Spanish that was due the next day. As you started to write your name on top of the worksheet, your name was being yelled.

Your had snapped up almost causing you whiplash before your vision settled on your best friend, Angelina Thompson. You narrowed your eyes and gave her the look you always did when she was doing too much but of course she couldn’t take a hint and waltzed up to the table you were sitting at and sat herself right on top of it.

“Girl, where have you been?” I texted your ass like five times and you know I don’t do that for just anybody.” She raised her eyebrows at you and flicked her locs over her shoulder.

You could feel the other students’ eyes on you again and this time they looked like they were going to cuss you out. Angie noticed their stares, “Excuse me. Mind your business.” She waved them away with her hand.

Before one of them could be bold enough to say anything you hurriedly gathered your things and stuffed them into your back pack before grabbing onto her arm and dragging you both outside of the school library.

“You know you do too much sometimes. We’re literally in a library, you can’t just be loud like that.” You looked at her pointedly.

She shrugged, “Yea well I wouldn’t have to if Peter ‘puppy dog eyes’ Kavinsky wasn’t talking my ear off, asking where you were.” She jabbed her finger into your shoulder making you slap her hand away.

You scratched your scalp before walking down the hallway, “Sorry I had to study. I’m not doing well in some of my classes and I’m not trying to have my Dad find out.”

She nodded understanding where you were coming from, “Ok well it still doesn’t explain why your boyfriend is bugging me about it. Y’all don’t text each other or talk?”

You didn’t respond immediately because you didn't know how to word your explanation. Ever since the movie night, you had started to actually fall for Peter and you couldn’t help but do it. Peter Kavinsky was a sweet person who constantly looked after you and all the little things he did were starting to get to you.

The Monday after the movie night, you two were the talk of the school more than ever before.

During third period, you got a hall pass and went to the bathroom. As you flushed and pulled your pants up, the door opened and your name was being mentioned.

“So looks like Peter is over you, him and Y/N look like they’re getting serious.” A voice you made out to be Jackie Lawson which meant the only other person she could be talking to was Jessica Meyers, Peter’s ex girlfriend.

You heard Jess scoff, “Please we both know that whatever they have is nothing compared to my and Peter’s relationship. You know we still text.”

If it was actually plausible that your heart could stop beating, you’re sure that that’s what it just did. Anytime you thought that maybe, just maybe this thing between Peter and you was morphing into something real you were thrust back into reality.

You went closer to the door of the stall you were currently in. You thanked the heavens that you were in the last one so they couldn't tell someone else was in the bathroom with them.

“I’m just saying Jess, the way he looks at her is special. Plus I heard he’s taking her on the annual ski trip and we all know what happens on the ski trip.” You could hear Jess sigh loudly before saying, “Yea I guess we’ll just see.”

They left a few minutes after that and you finally felt like you could breathe. Even though you’d agreed to the trip when you two came up with the terms of the contract, now you weren’t so sure anymore that you could go through with it.

 The very next day, you went along with the usual routine you two had. You sat with him at lunch and tried to engage with his friends who were slowly becoming your friends as well but you were mentally checked out. Your mind was a chaotic mess going through all the moments you and Peter shared and whether they were real or just part of the pact you two took.

Peter had noticed how quiet you were and the hand he had on your thigh, lightly squeezed the smooth skin. You blinked a few times before turning your head towards him.

“You good?” His pretty brown eyes scanned over your features before settling on your eyes gauging them for how you were feeling.

You simply nodded and brought your hand to your ear, lightly squeezing the lobe. It was a tall tale sign that you were lying and he figured it out three weeks into the fake relationship.

“Yea Peter. Actually, Angie wanted me to meet her before lunch ended.” You grabbed onto your back pack and stood up, “So I’m going to head out.”

Peter stared up at you and desperately wanted to say something about you lying to him but he decided against it and let you go reluctantly.

“Sure, we’re still hanging out after school right?” He smiled hopefully.

You nodded, “Yea sure, maybe. I don’t know actually because of homework and stuff but I’ll let you know.” You gave him a half-assed smile and scurried out of the cafeteria, if you had turned around you would’ve seen the confused and hurt look on Peter Kavinsky’s pretty face.

After school that day you avoided Peter and ended up walking home from school. You were lucky that your Dad had picked your sister up early from school for an orthodontist appointment so you didn’t have to deal with that awkward ordeal.

When you walked home your phone had been buzzing nonstop and you knew it was Peter. Your heart sank feeling bad for ignoring him but you had no choice you had to protect yourself. Your feelings were starting to become too much and you weren’t ready to deal with them or Peter.

Angie’s face remained emotionless and you were freaking out about how she was going to react. You just wanted to her say something.

You nudged her arm, “Angie I can’t take this, I need your help.” You cried.

She blinked a couple of times coming out of her stupor, “Girl I can’t believe y’all agreed to a fake relationship only for y’all to actually develop feelings.” Angie couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of her best friend’s situation.

“I didn’t mean to-wait you said both of us caught feelings. How?” You held on tightly to your black binder.

She rolled her eyes, “How do you not see the way homeboy looks at you. Lowkey makes me gag sometimes but I love you so I think it’s kind of cute. For real Y/N think about it. Think of the things he’s done and does for you just to make life easier on you plus I don’t think anyone could listen to your little sister sing for more than five minutes but he did it with no hesitation.”

All you could do was shrug. You really had no idea and it didn't matter that she told you all these things because a huge part of you thought that there was absolutely no way Peter Kavinsky liked you like that. Especially after what you’d heard in the bathroom a couple days ago. This was merely business and you needed to get your shit together if you were going to fulfill your side of the deal.

“Come on girl, Peter doesn’t like me. It’s all fake.” You started to walk towards your locker with her in tow.

She swung her arm around your shoulders, “Yea okay.” Angie gave you her infamous side eye and left it at that.

“Y/N!” You two turned at the sound of your name being called and your crush the one that had also gotten that forsaken letter came into view.

Danny Luna was also one of the popular guys in school but Peter was a couple notches above him.

You looked to your best friend for help but she just smirked and left you two by yourselves. You narrowed your eyes at her retreating form before turning back towards your locker.

“Hey Danny.” You settled on rearranging your textbooks not trying to really acknowledge him.

He leaned against your locker looking at you expectantly before speaking, “So you and Peter Kavinsky?”

You nodded, praying that that would be enough of an explanation.

He pulled on one of his back pack straps and scratched the back of his neck, “I’m just surprised because that letter you wrote it-.” The sound of your locker slamming shut cut him off, “Sorry Danny, I just don’t feel that way anymore plus you and my sister had a thing.”  He shook his head, “No yea of course. It’s just I was thinking that we could talk about it.”

Before you could respond, you caught sight of Peter heading down the hall towards you two. “I-uh gotta go Danny.” You walked away, your feet hurriedly getting you away from the uneasy situation.

As you rounded the corner, you heard his voice, “Whoa, whoa, whoa Y/N hold on.”

You’d miss the sleepy drawl of his voice even though it’d only been a day since you two actually talked. You looked up at him but decided to fix your gaze somewhere else, Peter always had a way of making you melt just by him simply looking at you.

“What’s going on? We were supposed to hang out yesterday and you bailed, Never even texted me back or answered my calls. You’ve been avoiding me and now I see you talking to Danny Luna.” He was irritated, you could tell just by how fast he was speaking.

While he’s talking, all you could really do was focus on the campaign poster behind him.

Hmm…you didn’t know Melanie Gibson was running for junior class president, good for her. Your eyes read over her campaign promises and agreed with most of them.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” You closed and opened your eyes and it took a couple seconds before your vision focused on Peter.

You hadn’t and you didn’t even try.

You coughed, covering your mouth with the inside of your elbow and looked to him while you pulled on your earlobe, “Mhmm.”

He reeled back as if he had been slapped, “Really?” Peter narrowed his eyes at you and the look you could only make out was that he was hurt.

Peter crossed his arms and tilted his head towards you, “You’re lying to me. I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other.” He motioned the space between you two.

The way his mouth curved through those words made you do double take at Peter. You raised an eyebrow and tilted your chin up, “No I’m not. How would you even know I was lying?”

Peter couldn’t take your stubbornness anymore, he had reached his limit, “How can I not know?! Anytime you grab your ear, you’re lying, I’ve seen you do it so much Y/N. Just tell me what’s really going on with you? And look the ski trip is coming up and we need to be on good terms before that so you-“ You shaking your had made him stop talking.

“Honestly Peter it’s time we just called it yea? This whole fake relationship has gone on for a lot longer than we both thought it would. You can take Jess on the ski trip and we can finally end it.” The words you’d spoken surprised both you and Peter for the same reason but neither you still didn’t know what the other was thinking.

With your head hanging low, you had the perfect view to see Peter’s sneakers take two steps towards you. “I want you to come on the ski trip with me Y/N.” With every inch he stepped in your direction, your nerves started to bubble up and you didn’t know how to deal with these feelings.  

The only way you knew how to was your greatest defense mechanism which was to deflect and hurt the only person who had made you truly happy in these past few weeks. “Peter, this was all fake right? So let’s not make a big deal of it. I want you have to fun with Jess.” And before he could even utter a word, you hastily walked away from him.

It was all fake right? So why did the tears rolling down your cheeks make you feel otherwise?

[sj9112]

Henry Yates: A Rebuttal

Sorry to get a bit wordy here, but I desperately needed to get this off my chest:

https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2019/may/27/how-not-going-out-heroes-went-from-cat-fight-chemistry-to-child-saddled-losers

I’m not a person who usually responds to stuff like this because opinions are just opinions and everyone has one. But I was frankly offended by the way I, as a viewer, was characterized by this piece and I cannot let such glib ignorance go unchallenged. Honestly, this makes me very, very angry. The writer displays such a complete and fundamental misunderstanding of the programme and what makes it watchable that it truly blows my mind. I understand that some things are not to everyone’s taste, but did we even watch the same show? A few points that I specifically would like to address:

1)      The idea that Lee’s hand was “forced” into settling the will-they-or-won’t-they tension, thus destroying the show. He’s getting on in years, FFS. Do you honestly think you’d still enjoy watching the show if you had to watch a 50-year-old man lusting after his landlady? Ew. That tension HAD to be resolved – you cannot sustain it indefinitely. NO SHOW CAN.

2)      Secondly, do not presume to speak on behalf of all viewers of the show, Mr. Henry Yates. I for one DO give a damn about Lee and Lucy’s relationship after they got together, perhaps too much (though I will never apologize for Lee and Lucy being my OTP), and I KNOW that I am not the only one. I am also not a sad, lazy, and bored middle-aged parent resigned to watching the show every week. The episodes are, in fact, the highlight of my week, and I always throw them on to cheer myself up. I’m also an American, so I make time at 4 pm local time to brew myself a cuppa and tune into my satellite to watch these episodes as they’re broadcast – I go out of my way to watch this show live in a way that no other programme can motivate me to do. Perhaps keep your insulting generalizations of an audience you know NOTHING about to yourself, “kind sir.”

3)      I also think that it is highly insulting to Lee Mack to wrongly assume that he is being forced “at gunpoint” to co-write these scripts as if he no longer cares and that attaching his name to the scripts is a badge of shame. You do know that this show is his passion project, yes? And that he devotes 10 months out of every year working hard on this show in between all of his other commitments? That this show is the thing he is most proud of in his career? And he has every right to be – look at recent episodes like Escape Room or Parachute, how smartly constructed those plots were. While some moves and lines can be anticipated, the writing takes clever and delightful turns that never fail to amuse me (and perhaps others, though I don’t presume to speak for all viewers UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE). I personally can see the care that so many people put into every shot of these episodes. Small details in the set design, the colour-coordination in the costuming, the actors’ choreography, and the blocking/framing of each scene all work very closely together to emphasize the characters, their traits, and the episode’s story. The live episode was a bloody marvel and a lot of effort was put forth by cast and crew alike – they didn’t make it easy on themselves and they acquitted themselves more than admirably! It takes a very passionate team to complete a project like that! There is not an ounce of fat on these scripts, either; every line, look, and gesture serves a purpose for the episode’s plot. The writing is tightly constructed in a manner that I can only marvel at and envy. Take Holiday Share, for example; a little throwaway line in act one ends up becoming the crux of the rising action in act three. As an English literary scholar, I find the scripts fascinating to study (and have written more than a few academic term papers about them in my undergraduate career). YOU, Mr. Yates, may not be impressed with them, but surely the fact that I, in my own capacity, find much to admire within them surely counts for something? It’s almost as if different people can assign different values to the same art! Shocking, I know!

4)      It seems you object most to the “groaners” and the frequent trotting-out of Bobby Ball’s shtick. Go back and watch the earlier series, the one-liners and zingers have always been there, especially when Tim Vine was on the show. They’re a staple of the show, always have been. I’m sorry they’ve ceased to work with you, but they haven’t suddenly “appeared” to torment you in the later series. And while Bobby Ball may not appeal to you, perhaps you ought to take a step back and wonder if it’s broad humour in general that you’re opposed to, because this show’s humour is quite broad (and, guess what, it always has been). If you don’t like that, fine, but don’t pretend that the show hasn’t always been like this. Go back to the earlier series and you will not find it to be as nuanced as you seem to think it was – in fact, it was worse. Especially in the first and second series: the scripts were weaker, Lee and Tim nearly turned to the camera/studio audience after every punchline, and the chemistry between the core cast had not even begun to be built (or, in the case of series one, it was lacking completely). Lee himself has said that the show did not start to find its stride until series 3, and you can track the progression of the show over time – Lee’s writing got sharper, the cast formed dynamic working relationships which only improved with familiarity (I thought Memory from this series was a striking example of how well Lee and Sally play off of each other in a way that wouldn’t have been possible in the show’s earlier years), and the characters have truly come into their own. I am being 100% honest when I say that I have found each successive series an improvement upon the last and that makes me truly excited for what the show will produce next.

5)      I always find it infuriating when people laud Lee’s work on WILTY while slagging off NGO and/or his standup with the same breath. You’re not a fan of Lee’s work, then; you’re a fan of WILTY. Lee undoubtedly demonstrates a quick-witted brilliance on Would I Lie to You?, but his talents do not end there. While it is by no means a requirement to like or appreciate absolutely everything an entertainer does, I find it hard to separate the little quips and “groaners” of Lee’s that light up the WILTY stage from the same quips and “groaners” he’s carefully honed and tested for his scripts or his routines. The humour is the same; the environment is different, but it’s still the same. Maybe that doesn’t work for you in a sitcom or on the stage, and that’s fine; but don’t call yourself a fan of Lee’s work when you think his accomplishments begin and end with a show that he literally rolls up to and expends minimal effort into and that he holds no merit outside of it.

6)      This goes back to point number 2 a bit, but I do feel as though I need to explain why this piece offended me so deeply. I do not wish to go into the traumatic circumstances that led me to begin watching Not Going Out in the first place, nor the pervading circumstances that keep me so attached to the show. Let it suffice to say that, while I can appreciate what they’re trying to do, I just can’t engage with comedy dramas or more darker comedy programmes because it’s all a little hashtag #tooreal in my actual life. Not Going Out provides a much-needed bit of escapism from my real life that I can’t really get from other programmes. It’s one of the precious few shows I can turn on and feel like I’m experiencing joy again. Not Going Out is a simple show, a light-hearted show, and a fun show; it doesn’t need to be anything more, but everyone does what they need to do so well. I can appreciate all of the details in each episode as I watch it repeatedly on a loop, sometimes 2-3 times a day, to help myself feel better (and the iPlayer doesn’t even work in my country). Far from the bored, passive viewer you paint me to be, I cling to this show like it’s a lifeline. Which it is, for me. This programme has done so much to help me in times of mental and physical distress, and I love it so, so, much for that.

7)      Now, sir, since you have made so many gross presumptions about myself and how I feel as a viewer of Not Going Out, I will do the same for you: come on, now. The only reason you think Lee’s brilliant on WILTY and that NGO used to be great is because he won a BAFTA for WILTY and NGO won a Rose D’Or in 2007, isn’t it?

I’m sorry, sir, that you have ceased to find amusement watching Not Going Out, but I, for one, have been enthusiastically attached to this latest series and am as far from tired of it as I possibly could be. I’d suggest you leave the viewing to us, switch off your telly, and attempt to remove your head from your own arse – it surely must be beginning to smell in there.

[avi-stella]

Work and Play | Kazumi x Tomoyuki Writing trade with @curejoosy. Thanks for trading with me, and I hope you like it!

Kazumi sits at her desk, tapping her fingers rhythmically atop the surface as she watches her English teacher write each students' name on the whiteboard to divide them into groups. The assignment seems easy enough, she thinks to herself. Having finished reading the chosen novel as part of the curriculum, Kazumi's class was given the assignment of writing up a report that revolved around one of the themes explored in said novel.

The young woman straightens up a bit when she sees her name being written, and she unconsciously holds her breath. Group assignments were always a (necessary) nightmare, but so long as her fellow members weren't anybody she disliked and pulled their weight, then she would tolerate it. The teacher writes two other students' name alongside Kazumi's, and when she reads it, she clicks her tongue.

Fuck.

Kazumi turns her head to where Tomoyuki is seated as he'll be one of the people she has to, unfortunately, work with. The two of them lock eyes, and he shoots her an excited grin while giving a small wave of his hand. Kazumi internally groans. This is going to be a nightmare indeed.

The teacher gives the go ahead for the class to split into their respective groups and get to work. Kazumi pulls up a chair alongside Tomoyuki and another female student whose name escapes her. Not like it necessarily matters though as they probably won't even talk after this whole assignment was over and done with.

Getting right into it, Tomoyuki provides a brief summary of the instructions so they know where to start. "So, we have to write a three page report on one of the listed themes and present it in a creative way."

Kazumi scrunches up her face at the vague wording. "What does it mean 'in a creative way'? Actually, no, we'll get to that later. Let's decide on a theme to write about first."

"I was thinking about doing the first one," Tomoyuki speaks up, offering his two cents.

Kazumi almost immediately shoots him down. "Wouldn't the fourth one be easier to write about?"

"Maybe," the young man responds, "but the first one sounds more interesting."

Kazumi huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. Already, they have reached a disagreement. The two then direct their attention over to their other group mate, wanting to hear her opinion and hopefully have her act as a tiebreaker.

"I'm fine with whatever," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, looking completely and utterly bored.

Kazumi rolls her eyes. Just great.

The two students walk along the park, having taken the time off of their weekend to meet up. To outsiders, it might look like they're out on a date, but it's far from it. It's simply to work on their shared assignment and nothing else.

Tomoyuki fiddles with the camera wrapped around his neck, and Kazumi huffs in annoyance as she remembers events from a few days ago. The female student is perfectly aware of Tomoyuki's talents being well known amongst the school members, but she wasn't expecting his "fanbase", so to speak, to actually verbally attack and bitch on her. What a nuisance.

"What is it?"

Kazumi snaps herself back to the present. "What?"

"You have this crease between your brows," the highschooler responds, flicking her forehead in which she retaliates with a slap on his arm. "Is it because of our last group member flaking out on us?"

"Yeah, I'm pissed about that, but that's not it. It's nothing," she answers with a curt tone. "Just remembering about some dumbasses' words about how I'm apparently not good enough for you." She scoffs. "What a bunch of bull."

"You're right," Tomoyuki agrees with a casual nod of his head before shooting her a large and beaming grin. "It is a bunch of bull. You're more than enough for me."

Kazumi can feel her face start to heat up, and she ends up sputtering, "Wh--What--What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

The young man laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy at his companion's flustered reaction. She might think that he's just teasing her, but he's completely and utterly sincere with his words.

"Who knows?" Tomoyuki replies with a singsong voice, refusing to give the woman a straightforward answer. Before she can get too angry at him, he switches the topic at hand. "In any case, if it weren't for me, you'd probably still have nothing for the assignment done. Aren't you glad I'm in your group?"

Kazumi rolls her eyes, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. "Only because you're useful to me." Although her behaviour and words seem defiant, a ghost of a smile is painted on her lips, but Tomoyuki opts not to comment on it.

"Oh, I'm hurt!" The student dramatically places his hand on his chest and speaks in an exaggerated manner. "You know, even if we weren't assigned together, I would have asked if I could join you."

Kazumi bites back the smile that threatens to show on her face. "You're dumb," she responds in a simple manner, completely dishonest with the young man and herself.

She turns her head away, but it's difficult to get rid of the fond look on her features. Tomoyuki stares at her for a moment, stunned silent at how beautiful she looks at this angle with the sun's light hitting her hair in just the right way. He lifts up his camera and takes a quick and discreet shot of the unsuspecting woman.

He checks the device's screen to make sure that the photo was taken properly, and he nods in satisfaction, his heart fluttering in his chest before briefly glancing back towards Kazumi. He'll keep this photo of her as his personal secret for now.

"What are you grinning at?" Kazumi's voice breaks him out of his spell, looking at him a bit warily, and he quickly shakes his head.

"It's nothing." He's quick to change the subject around once more. "Let's hurry up and finish up with this assignment already."

Whether or not this assignment of theirs goes off without a hitch, and despite all of its bumps and obstacles along the way, Tomoyuki doesn't really mind. After all, he got something much better.

[ontherockswithsalt]

The Fortunate Fall

aka I Don’t Know Why I Wrote This.

A/N: Hey, was a highschool!Joble AU missing from your life? No? Well here’s one anyway lol. This is the first part of a two-part short story (a two-shot?) that I felt like writing. 

This one’s in Noble’s POV and I appreciate that his ass needs saving no matter the universe. Language warning applies. Word count: 1,821

“It's just fucking stupid, that's all,” I complain.

Jamie glances up at me from the spiral notebook on his lap as I pace his room.

“What, you think I'm an idiot? You think I'm not gonna graduate just because of some paper?”

“I didn't say that,” he maintains. “Mr. Craig said that.”

“Yeah well Greg Craig can suck my dick,” I mutter, glancing up the tower of Jamie's CDs sitting next to his stereo.

I hear his mumbled “Nice” from the floor behind me. “What do you normally do?” He wonders. “Bullshit your way through your assignments, or do you actually read?”

“There's something to be said for the art of bullshitting,” I argue. “It'll probably get me farther in life than understanding Paradise Lost. You like Radiohead?” I turn and hold up the jewel case for OK Computer.

He lifts his gaze once more. “Yeah.”

I look at him and consider it for a moment. Not what I would have guessed.

Jamie only turns his gaze back down for a second before it self consciously finds mine again. “What?” He exhales a soft laugh.

“Can I put this on?” I propose, feeling the curve of a persuasive smile at the corner of my lips.

His cheek twitches a little before he returns a faint shake of his head. “Sure. And then this draft is back on you, alright? I'm almost done.”

“What do you think so far?” I question as I eject the disc and switch it with my pick. “You're awfully quiet.”

“... A flawed contradiction of a villainous hero,” Jamie recites. “--The Devil glorifies freedom but remains the prisoner of his own ego.”

His voice with my words makes some kind of heat flicker in the pit of my chest that I tell myself to ignore while I concentrate on finding the track I want.

“Did you write that?” He asks. “Or was that Amy?”

“What do you mean was that Amy?”

“Isn’t she your girlfriend?” He murmurs. “Thought she wrote all your papers for you.”

I swallow hard, reaching up to scratch the back of my head while I turn around. “She's not my girlfriend. We broke up a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

I shrug. “I wrote it. Is that so hard to believe?”

He lets a moment -- filled only with the mellow hum of the dreamy song -- hang there before he shifts back against the side of his bed. “It's pretty good.”

Breathing out a quiet laugh, I lower my weight to join him on the floor. “Pretty good.”

“I mean compared to some of your horseshit I had to read earlier in the semester.”

My brows pull together, half offended, half amused that Jamie would attempt an insult when we hardly know each other. Outside of forced tutoring sessions at the library, and this particular time, at his house, we run in completely different circles.

I scoff but a smile surfaces on my face anyway. “Look, I know this shit. I just have better things to do.”

“He knows it, but he had better things to do,” Jamie echoes. “Cool, maybe they'll print that on your diploma.” He glances down as he crosses out a line on the notebook, then writes something in the margin. “You know it doesn't make a difference when it comes to your transcript, don't you? Whether you don't understand and can't do the work, or you do know and just choose not to work, either way, you fail. So if you can do the work, why let yourself fail?”

“Believe it or not, not everybody cares about their fucking transcript.”

“Then what's the point, Noble?” He shrugs, tossing my notebook to the floor before he stretches back. “I mean why even show up to school at all? Why are you here wasting my time?”

“Your time?” My eyebrows raise.

“You think I don't have better things to do? You have one AP class, I have six. And varsity track. And I work. And somehow I've been in charge of making sure your ass graduates.”

“It's a heavy burden, huh?” I quip. “What, am I supposed to have sympathy for you?”

“I don't want sympathy.”

“You think any of that matters ten years from now?” I narrow my gaze at him. “AP classes and your transcript and how far up your teachers’ asses you got in high school?”

“I don't know. Look me up in ten years and we'll see.”

Adjusting, I scoot down to rest on my side, propping my head up on my hand and I have to laugh. “I will. I'll call you when I get out of rehab and see how you're doing.”

A reluctant grin grazes his face, pulling at his cheek and it amuses me. He shakes his head. “Good to know you have a plan.”

I study his face for a moment, the way it changes with his smile as he glances away. I reach out for the pen that he dropped and tap the end on the notebook. “So what's the verdict? Good enough?” Then I slide the pen behind my ear.

Jamie glances over at me and tilts his head. “I made some corrections. I think you need to expand on your argument in a couple of the paragraphs.”

“But overall--” Then I blink up at him from where I lay across the floor, my eyebrows jumping with a convincing grin. “Thumbs up?”

Another huff of amusement blows out from him. “You need an A on this paper to bring your grade up.”

“Yeah.”

“It's not there yet.”

A frustrated grunt escapes me and I turn to roll into my back. Reaching over, I undo the top button on my rumpled white uniform shirt that I'm still wearing before I manage to sit up.

“I know you have better things to do,” He reminds me. “But--” Then he picks up the notebook and tosses it in my lap. “Don't just drop it. Because it's good. Get it done, alright?” 

With a bored nod, I grasp the notebook and slowly get to my feet. “Awesome.”

Jamie shifts to stand up and without a thought, my arm reaches out. His hand clasps mine and with a flexed tension in my forearm that he matches, I tug him upright. From his own momentum, his chest collides with mine before he works his way a step back.

I swing my hand out to smack the side of his arm but somehow, damn that got my heart all hot. 

“Ah… I'm gonna take off,” I announce before I bend over to retrieve the beat up paperback.

We make our way downstairs, through his big, quiet house. His kitchen glows, warm and dim from a single lamp on a far counter and I glance around for signs of anyone else. I know Jamie has a few brothers or sisters or a few of each, I can’t remember. But I know they’re all older and out of the house.

I hear shifting and movement from a room across the way and figure his parents are still up.  

“Jamie?”

“Yeah mom.”

“You wanna come in here?”

I glance over at Jamie and point a thumb to the door, shooting him a hopeful look that I can just slip out.

He wordlessly reads it and shakes his head before tipping it toward the adjacent room, giving me a murmured, “Come on.”

Leading me to a study, he stretches into the doorway and I peer in from behind him to see his mom and dad sharing sections from the newspaper between two arm chairs.

“This is Noble Sanfino.” Jamie introduces with a quick gesture over his shoulder.

“Hi, Noble,” his mother smiles.

I see his dad lift his chin over the paper before he folds it closed. “Sanfino,” he echoes with this contemplative note that I definitely don’t miss.

My mouth is suddenly parched and I swallow hard standing just opposite this imposing man who everyone knows is some big deal police captain or Marine or both. I don’t know, but I’ll pass on divulging any more information. Instead I silently summon some kind of will that he isn't able to figure out the joint I smoked on my way over here… And the other one in my pocket.

“Uh, yes,” I confirm. “Noble. Nice to meet you.”

“He's in my English Lit class,” Jamie explains. “We were working on a paper.”

“Is that your Nine-Eleven outside?” His father questions.

I clear my throat. “Yes, sir.”

Blinking hard, he merely responds with a nod. “Quite a car.”

“What's the paper on?” His mom cuts in.

“Um, Paradise Lost,” Jamie pipes up. “John Milton.”

“Oh boy,” she retorts and reaches out to take the section from Mr. Reagan.

“Felix Culpa,” his father muses.

His wife hums a soft little laugh as she folds the paper. “The fortunate fall, huh?”

The fuck?

Jamie drops a hand hard on my shoulder and starts to turn me out of the room. “Exactly,” he mutters. “It’s pretty brutal. Come on.”

I manage a some semblance of a goodbye before I head to the door in the kitchen. With a simple see ya later, take it easy exchange, Jamie sees me out, closes the door between us and I blow out a heavy breath as my hand dips for my car keys.

Out on the driveway, I tug open my black Porsche and sink inside. There’s a heat along the back of my neck, in my throat that I can’t get to go away. Cops make me tense in general, so it’s no surprise that Jamie’s dad gets me all uptight, just sitting there. But it’s something else.

Something about Jamie’s quiet confidence in class. He has this way of making everybody feel like an asshole. But when I’m alone with him, he elicits some kind of… calming honesty from me and it’s like he doesn’t even try.

I struggle with what that means for a moment. Why I go home and wish I could keep talking to him when up until this year, I’d never bothered.  Like maybe there’s some other tie I have to him that I can’t remember.

With a shake of my head, I push my key in the ignition and twist my wrist to start it. But I’m only met with a gritty, unpleasant rattle and I let go. A brief wave of dread dips through me and my brow furrows at the unfamiliar noise. I stretch my fingers and take hold of the key once more, turn it and the engine fails to come alive, stuttering a hopeless scratch once more until I release it.

“Goddammit,” I whisper and sink back against the leather seat.

My gaze flicks over to the book on my passenger seat, then the brick house in front of me. Drawing a deep inhale to my chest, I push open the driver’s side door and sigh, “Quite a fucking car indeed.”

...part 2 for another day...

[cuddleslutloki]

stucky fic i’m abandoning under the cut bc i’m so far into thorki rn and writing loki was my fav part of this story woops lol. i want this out of my WIP folder, staring at me as if to ask “when father, when will i be complete?”

never.

enjoy!

Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to shake so many hands. The conference only happened once every three years, and he hadn’t been able to dodge it this time. Natasha had laughed at him when he read the invitation.

One Captain Steven G. Rogers has been invited and by then it was too late. Coulson gave him the ‘that’s too bad’ smile and sent him off.

Fifteen countries all bound together by secret treaties and trade agreements, all here to celebrate peace and prosperity and the future they were creating. Steve would have had a much easier time focusing on that goal if his translator wasn’t driving him fucking insane.

Sergeant James B ‘call me Bucky’ Barnes was Steve’s type on legs. He was an accomplished soldier, a great spy as far as Steve could weedle information from his contacts. He also spoke more than a dozen languages.

And he clearly had no idea that Steve was fluent in French.

If he knew, he wouldn’t have been saying any of the wonderful, distracting things he’d been saying all damn day. It started with a sly remark he made to Natasha on the phone earlier. Casually, in the middle of lunch, he was speaking with her in English and he accused her of this being a set up.

Then he switched to French halfway through the sentence. “You could’ve warned me, y’know, sa bouche.”

Steve stopped for a moment, then just listened as Bucky kept going. And going. And going.

It started with Steve’s mouth, then went to his shoulders, which apparently Bucky thought were perfect for holding onto when the headboard started smacking against the wall.

Steve wasn’t a spy, not by any shot, but he could keep a straight face. Natasha must have reminded him about the concept of professionalism, even if she neglected to mention that Steve would understand what he was saying, because after about three full sentences of Bucky’s lust-hazed complaining he went back to talking about the conference. They didn’t have to do much, just listen to speeches and eat good food, but there were plenty of people who would want to speak with Steve.

Plans for this and that, where do you think so-and-so is going, why do you think this happened, and what do we do about this person or that person. It was the same conversation over and over on repeat with thirty people. Bucky shared his exasperation, Steve could tell that much.

“Why did I even bother with fluency when I’m just using the same ten words in each damn language?” He groused.

Steve laughed and grabbed them both champagne from a passing tray. “At this rate I could probably have these conversations myself.”

Bucky laughed and downed his entire glass. Steve took his time with his, since Bucky seemed to have such a problem with his mouth. He licked an errant drop of champagne off of his lower lip and barely kept himself from smiling when Bucky cussed.

“Putain de merde, ce soir doit se terminer.” Bucky kept a polite face as he muttered to himself.

Steve decided to be merciful. “La fête va terminer en trente minutes, je crois.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and his shoulders stiffened. “Tu… peux me comprendre.”

Steve nodded, a smirk on his lips as he finished his champagne. “Ouais, je te comprends.”

Bucky swallowed roughly and grabbed another flute of champagne. Steve laughed and Bucky looked at him as he drank this glass even faster than the first. He watched Steve for a moment, then his unease melted away.

“Toute la journée t’as compris?” Bucky asked, his voice not so tight as it was a moment ago.

Steve nodded and smiled at him, looking at him through his eyelashes. “Oui, j’ai entendu et compris tout.”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Oh, incredible. I’m going to kill Natasha.”

“It’s not her fault, I’m the one who didn’t say anything.” Steve smiled at a passing ambassador, then nodded to another. He didn’t look at Bucky as he spoke. “T’as dit quelque chose de ma bouche pendant l’appel avec Natasha.”

Bucky regarded him for a moment, then licked his lips and stepped closer to Steve and whispered into his ear. “Ouais, et tu vas faire quoi?”

Steve turned his head and let his lips brush Bucky’s ear. “On va voir.”

They took a short step away from one another, facing each other fully now. Bucky smiled to someone over Steve’s shoulder and didn’t meet his eyes. “Nous ne pouvons pas quitter tôt, c’est pas joli.”

Steve scanned the crowd until he found the man he was looking for. Long, black hair was slicked back and a dark green and black suit clung to his frame. He was as elegant a killer as there was, and he was the host tonight.

“Allons.” Steve started walking before Bucky could reply.

He acknowledged people in the crowd as they walked, but didn’t stop long enough to give anyone a chance to speak. Loki’s eyes brightened as Steve approached.

“Captain Rogers, you look positively edible tonight.” Loki shook his hand firmly, eyes sharp as he glanced from Steve to Bucky beside him. “How can I be of assistance?”

Steve pulled Loki’s hand up for a kiss, smiling against the knuckles. Loki raised an eyebrow. It was that kind of favor.

“I need to leave, but I can’t be signed out until everyone else is. Can you make that happen?” Steve let go of Loki’s slender hand and kept eye contact.

After looking between them, Loki chuckled. “Steven, you’re laughably predictable. What do I get in exchange for forging the attendance logs of an international event with private security? Logs that need your fingerprint to sign out.”

Steve looked off toward one of the exits, the best one if he wanted to leave without drawing attention to them. “I’ll owe you a favor.”

Loki hummed and pursed his lips. “Why would I need a favor from you?”

“It can be a favor for Thor.” Steve kept his voice low, mindful of any who would be listening.

Loki straightened as he stood and if Steve didn’t know him, he might not have caught the flash of surprise that preceded Loki’s wide smile. His voice was barely loud enough to hear. “Does this mean that you want to help? Even after what Stark said?”

Steve didn’t say anything, just held Loki’s eyes. Loki was good at reading people. It only took a few seconds for him to have his answer.

“Alright, Steven. You and your interpreter will be signed out at 9:37 and 9:38 respectively. Plenty of time to have said goodbyes and paid proper respects to everyone here.” Loki slipped in close enough that Steve could smell the rose oil in his hair. “I’ll tell Thor to call you. He’ll be pleased to hear you’ve picked a side, even if you’re doing it under pretense.”

Too good at reading people. Steve shook Loki’s hand again. “Thank you.”

Bucky followed Steve through the crowd as they made their way to the exit next to the bathrooms. No one was looking as they went through the door. They walked quickly to the parking structure and Steve tossed Bucky the keys.

Once inside, Bucky wasted no time tearing out of the space and speeding into the city. “You know how to pick your friends, don’t you, pal?”

Steve smiled. “Well, I’m not picking anyone you didn’t already pick, right?”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it. “That’s some network of contacts you must have. How much do you know?”

“I’m not talking shop right now. But I know you’re not here to be a translator, and I’m not here to be your mark tonight.” Steve reached into his pocket and turned his phone off, then took the battery out.

Bucky grinned and shook his head as he took a turn a little too hard. “Natasha said I’d like you.”

“Yeah, I think she’s why I ended up here.” Steve mused, fingers twitching as they got closer to their hotel. “You really didn’t know I speak French?”

Bucky shook his head. “I just got the assignment yesterday, and Natasha wouldn’t tell me anything. I couldn’t get any information on you anywhere else. I almost thought it was a prank.”

“She told me who you were four days ago.” Steve chuckled and shook his head. “It still could be a prank.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think so. She put us together for a reason.” Bucky turned into the hotel lot and parked by one of the side entrances.

Steve considered it. “It’s treason.”

Bucky nodded and finally cut the engine off. “It’s the right thing to do. Didn’t you say no shop talk?”

“You're right, no shop, let's go.” Steve all but dragged Bucky through the hotel, both of them reasonably composed in the elevator.

That lasted right until the door was closed, then Steve slammed Bucky into the door and sank his teeth into Bucky’s neck. The groan he got in return had his cock filling quickly, swelling and pressing against the fly of his slacks. He felt too hot in the confines of his suit, with Bucky’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and Bucky’s breath ghosting across his ear.

[chrisbeckstrom]

Limitations = Creativity! A python script that generates a composition assignment

Contents

1 Finding inspiration

2 Constraints

3 Here’s what it does

4 Examples

5 Does it work?

6 Try it

Finding inspiration

Sometimes I feel so creative that I rush to get the music in my head out and into a recorder, a computer, or onto some paper. There have been many times I created an entire album of music in a week or less. Other times, trying to get inspiration to flow feels like pumping a dried-up well.

Lately has been those other times, and it’s been a struggle to get that “creative mode” switch to flip. Reading back through articles I’d saved on the subject (in my journal, of course), I saw one from a few years ago that tickled my fancy.

The title reads “How I recorded an album in an evening with a lunchbox modular and a python script”. Right off the bat, it checks a lot boxes for me: music creation done very quickly, modular synth, computers, coding, music from algorithms.

As I re-read Tom Whitwell’s adventure writing a simple python script to randomly (algorithmically?) generate a set of musical constraints, I decided this might be what I needed to get back into creative mode.

So during one of my daughter’s naps, I sat down and wrote my own version of Tom’s script. Like his, it’s in python – and I borrowed a function or two – but for the most part it’s a new piece of code. Like most of the code I write, it’s not very sophisticated, but it works. I’ve been tweaking it the past few days, adding features, and – yes, using it as a starting point for creating new music.

Constraints

I am especially inspired by limitations. When faced with a fairly well-stocked music studio and a generous sample library, I can be overwhelmed with choices, frozen in place. Looking back on my musical output, almost everything I do is created through limitation. “I want to create a funk album and use mostly physical instruments that I play, make it short, EP-length, with distortion and tape hiss,” or “I want to make an album (or series of 9 albums, so far) of holiday music played in very weird styles,” or “I want to make a hip-hop album, but the subject matter is fishing, and I am the rapper, and the samples should come from weird sources,” or “I want to make an album where each track is just a single color (via my synesthesia).”

Those are just some examples.

In grad school I studied film scoring, and my favorite part was getting new assignments with unusual instrumentation requirements, unusual style requirements, and other limitations. Like “Score this really uncomfortable love scene with one harp, three flutes, and sound effects.”

I eat that stuff up! That really gets my brain going. I always enjoy seeing how far I can get within the limitations. Sometimes I go beyond the artificial or prescribed limitations, but it’s a place to start.

This code does the same thing: it generates a composition assignment for me with weird limitations, and it really gets my creativity going.

Here’s what it does

The code contains a range of options – musical and otherwise – and when the script is run, the python interpreter (the thing that reads the code) chooses various options and presents them to the user as a “score.” Naturally I use the word “score” very, very loosely here. Here is a list of some things and choices the script generates:

Name of the piece, randomly generated from the English alphabet, between 5 and 15 characters long, including spaces

beats per minute (tempo)

beats per bar (time signature) or “no pulse”

the number of tracks to use to create this piece

the function of each track (melody/ambience/pad/harmony/rhythm/etc.)

a small piece of generated ascii art

one or more audio files from my sample collection to use in this new piece

a short rhythmic motif written in “graphical notation”, extremely open to interpretation

what instruments to use (I basically list everything in my studio and the script decides which ones I use)

what radio frequency to use if “radio” is one of the instruments selected

between 1 and 3 words, chosen from a word list that includes a wide variety of terms, phrases, places, and things, with a large focus on words that describe visual art

I run the code and a new text file is generated, and in this text file are basic instructions for creating a new piece of music.

Examples

Here’s an example: [crayon-5b87170d0ce14472732490/] …and here’s another: [crayon-5b87170d0ce20883812385/] Weird, right? But also mentally stimulating!

Each new generated piece is a puzzle to solve. Some are outright ridiculous, others show potential. Sometimes the name alone is inspiring. Some of my favorites so far are “Tocuxan Dos” and “Ipaqaho.”

Each little suggestion/requirement is an opportunity to get creative. What does the random song title make me think of? What does the random ascii art look like? What sort of music would those random words describe? What the hell does > O + sound like?

That’s up to the composer. This code doesn’t really compose music, even though I named the script cbcompose.py. Really it just assembles a collection of prompts and invites me to make some sense of it all and create something new.

Does it work?

Yes. I’m currently working on my third new track since I wrote the script. At this rate, I’ll have a new album in a week or so. I’m using techniques, instruments, and sounds that I probably would not have chosen myself, and the challenge of making them work together is invigorating. The music that I am creating based on these constraints is still my music, I just got some creative help from a little computer program.

Try it

I wrote this script to be specific to my own pool of choices, instruments, modular synth modules, etc. but it could easily be adapted to fit yours. I fill my code with comments so that anybody looking at it should be able to make sense of what everything is doing.

If you want to give it a shot, you can download it here: cbcompose.py, or look at the code in its current state here. Once you download the file, called cbcompose.py, you most likely can run it in a terminal by typing python cbcompose.py (if you saved the file to your home folder). The internet is full of info on using python, so if you get stuck, the answer is a search a way! Of course I can also help too; if you’re interested, let me know!

Stay tuned for some of the audio results of this experiment.

- - - (original: https://chrisbeckstrom.com/2018/08/29/limitations-creativity-a-python-script-that-generates-a-composition-assignment/)

[parttimepadawan]

Overtaken Pt. 2 (Hux x General!Reader)

A/N: I have to go back to college next week nooooo! I don’t wanna go to school ;-;

Also, thank you guys so much for the great reception of part 1! It was originally a standalone, but you guys inspired me!

Warning: Swear words

Word Count: 4294

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

You had half a mind to just send a droid to Hux’s room with his damned gloves. You’d thought that he’d left them in your quarters on purpose to come back for them later, but weeks had passed since then and all they were doing was collecting dust in the back of a drawer.

It appeared that he did indeed have a spare set of gloves, as when you saw him the very next day, he looked immaculate. Everything was in place, including his gloves. You didn’t know what possessed you to ever keep the gloves in the first place, but you did. You put them away in a drawer for whenever Hux chose to come back for them, and neither they nor thoughts of them had seen the sun since. You had completely forgotten that you had them until you opened the drawer and saw them squished in the back.

Arbra was supposedly in the midst of its winter around this time of year, you were told and had been advised to dress accordingly when you stepped foot onto its terrain. It would seem that life had its own sense of humor as once again, you were to work rather closely with Hux on this assignment.

It was all very strange to you. While you and Hux were of equal rank on paper, he was considered far too important to the First Order to ever need to search a planet, let alone one formerly aligned with the Resistance. You weren’t sure how it ended up that way, but Hux had his suspicions about Tarkin.

“I’ll bet he’s trying for my position,” he said quietly to you when the assignment was given. Those were his only words on the matter, and he’d only ever said them once. You supposed it made sense, given that you’d been sent to a planet just a little ways off of Crait while Tarkin himself went off to where Rebels had been confirmed to be hiding out. If you weren’t so displeased about your circumstances, you’d say he was a genius.

Putting those thoughts aside for now, and hoping Hux was as good a shot as he claimed to be, you switched out your coat and gloves for warmer counterparts. Or rather, you switched out your coat and found that your thin fabric gloves were the warmest you had onboard. Catching sight of Hux’s leather gloves, you put them in your coat pocket while keeping your own on your hands. Just in case, you thought.

You had a biological science droid fill you in on what you needed to know as you made your way to the launch bay. “Arbra is a planet covered mainly in trees and small seas, with its only civilization being the Hoojibs,” it explained. “According to my databanks, they communicate mainly via telepathy, with very little audible vocal ability.” You nodded, indicating you’d heard.

By the time you reached the launch bay, you were almost confident you’d be able to write a paper on the planet. You looked over your ranks, estimating about a thousand men to go with you onto Arbra. The relatively small numbers made you a bit nervous, you’ll admit, but if the Hoojibs were as friendly as the droid said they were, then you’d be fine.

You took your datapad from your coat pocket and shot a quick message to Commander Khiral with instructions for the fleet in your absence. Not a moment later, you got a message back, confirming your orders. Returning your datapad back to its place, you heard footsteps approach.

“Left things to the last minute again, General L/N?” Hux said. You met his eyes, lips pursed, trying to figure out whether he was joking. His jabs at you ever since your little escapade have been softer, and you’d noticed that some of them have been intended to be playful, but could never figure out which ones were and which ones weren’t. You didn’t know if you were thick or if Hux was just bad at telling jokes.

“Just double-checking before launch,” you said and straightened out your coat. “What brings you to the Subjugator? I was under the impression that we would meet on Arbra’s surface.” With nothing better to do, he placed his hands behind his back and looked out over your stormtroopers with you.

“I thought I would come and see what my support would be,” he said. “I must say, there’s a rather small number of troops coming from an already small ship.” You let the comment roll off your back and hummed.

“The natives are supposed to be friendly,” you said, “and not all our ships can have a two hundred thousand-foot wingspan.” Hux had recently taken up residence on the Supremacy, and had seemingly forgotten that he formerly commanded a ship the same size as yours. Not wanting to continue on the subject, you explained your mission quickly to the troops and gave the command to load up the transports.

On your signal, the stormtroopers fell into place and march efficiently onto their assigned ships. It was satisfying to see such order under your command. With a nod of your head, you led Hux to your own transport and awaited launch.

You took a seat by a window and were offered refreshments from a droid. As you made your request, Hux took a seat across from you and looked out at Arbra. He muttered to himself and you picked up bits and pieces such as “odd shape” and “only one moon?”

“Arbra has one sun and one moon,” you said, reaching out and accepting your food. You’d had a light breakfast and would take your chance to eat while you still had it.

“Does it? How odd.” With that, the conversation lulled. You had no protests as you didn’t like to talk while you were trying to eat, but it seemed Hux wasn’t quite so comfortable.

Eventually, having had enough of his fidgeting, you asked, “Would you like something before we land? It could be a while before we come back inside.” He shook his head in response and you wondered why the hell he was so antsy in the first place. You looked out at the planet below you and found yourself awestruck. The droid had mentioned massive trees but this was something else. Not even close to landing, you watched as the tops of the trees cleared your ship and continued up toward the sky while you lowered to the ground. They must have been a mile tall at the least.

Perfect hiding places. Thick foliage with the high ground. Upon landing, you held Hux back from disembarking by his sleeve, and kicked a nearby maintenance droid down the gangplank. After a few moments of waiting, and no gunfire, you stepped forward, ignoring the indignant beeps and whirs of the abused droid.

If Hux had any issue with your methods, he kept it to himself and followed without a word. By the time you were on the ground, approximately half of the troops were standing in formation awaiting orders. You picked up the audio projector at the entrance of the ship when all were in place and ran over your mission once again.

“Remember, men, you are to look for signs of Rebel activity. Cause as little destruction as possible. Planet natives are to be ignored unless hostile.” With those last warnings, you were ready to complete your own part of the mission, leaving Hux to supervise.

You walked off with your own small squad of troopers. You marched forward with confidence; this was your personal squad, the finest the Subjugator had to offer.

The trees all passed you by in monotony, every bush and shrub looking exactly the same as the one next to it. You weren’t able to tell for yourself, but your global positioning system put you at about one and a half klicks southeast of your landing point. That was odd. Even if this planet was fairly deserted, you were sure you would have seen some form of sentient life by now.

As if it had heard you, a small animal rushed at you from the greenery and you let out a startled cry, setting off a domino effect among your troopers. The shouts of panic and clicking of blasters readying to fire seemed to frighten the little creature as it climbed up the outside of your pant leg and hid itself inside your coat. As your squad stood in shock, unsure of what to do, unable to shoot at you nor rummage through your coat, you stuck your hand in and fished it out from under your armpit.

“Er– hello,” you said awkwardly, patting its head. “There, there, it’s alright. My men won’t hurt you.” What were you doing? You didn’t even know if it spoke English. It shook and shivered in your arms, but calmed a little at the sound of your voice. It was a furry, kind of goofy-looking little thing, with four legs, floppy ears, and large eyes. Kind of like a rodent. You thought it was adorable. The little antenna on its head twitched and what came next made you nearly drop it.

“Thank you!” it said. Well, it didn’t say it, but you heard the words clearly in your mind. You gave your soldiers all a once-over.

“Did you hear what it said?” you asked them. A handful of them nodded yes while the rest shook their heads no. You looked at the creature for clarification.

“I’m not big enough to talk to that many people yet,” it said through its thoughts, its ears drooping. You heard one trooper ask what it said and one of the troopers who had nodded explained.

“You must be a Hoojib,” you said quietly. The Hoojib bounced in your arms.

“Well, we don’t call ourselves that, but everyone else seems to! My name is Puffpuff!” You almost felt your heart triple in size. “Who are you? What brings you here? Not many other life forms come to Arbra!”

“I am General L/N,” you said, setting Puffpuff down. “I have come with my men to look for some Resistance members that might be hiding here.” It came closer to you and rested its front paws up on your shins.

“You should come meet our spokesmind! He can help you!” it said, and took off into the bushes. It moved faster than you could keep up with, and you were left with your arm outstretched, not even having had the chance to ask it to slow down. A moment later, Puffpuff’s face peeked out from between the leaves.

“You’re not very fast, are you?”

You couldn’t even respond before he was speaking again.

“That’s okay, I’ll slow down then. Come on!” With a nod of your head, a couple of your troops walked ahead and cleared a path for you, the rest of the squad guarding your sides and rear.

With Puffpuff leading you, you ventured deeper into the forest away from your landing site. The farther you went, the more exotic the surrounding flora became. The vibrant green was joined by bright reds and pinks and purples. By the time you reached the cave that the Hoojibs apparently called home, the sun was well into setting. Just a few minutes before, you’d received a message from Hux, asking for your location and status. Your reply was quick, just a few words explaining that you were working and that you’d likely be out until morning.

With the light fading farther and farther out towards the mouth of the cave, you couldn’t find anything special about it until you actually stepped inside. You let out a long breath, in awe of the glowing crystals within the cave. There were so many; you felt overwhelmed. Some were small and stuck in the walls, just a sliver or a point peeking out of the rock; others were massive columns that stuck straight out of the walls, the floors, the ceilings. And all in between them was an entire civilization of Hoojibs, who all turned to look at you and your squad of troopers.

One Hoojib was rather cute, but to have so many of their large eyes staring you down at once unnerved you. Puffpuff didn’t seem to notice and scampered over to a small group of Hoojibs his size– he’d clarified that he was a he after overhearing you mentally referring to him as “it” one too many times– playing by the mouth of the cave.

“Where is the spokesmind?” you heard him ask. “We have visitors!” The other Hoojibs looked at you with suspicion– not that you could blame them– but answered him nontheless. Obviously you had been cut off from their conversation, but you were still privy to Puffpuff’s half to try and piece things together. Checking on your squad, you signalled for them to lower their blasters. Still, the Hoojibs did not show signs of relaxing until the blasters were tucked back into their holsters.

“Come on, General! The spokemind is this way!” Puffpuff said. You followed and, when you heard footsteps behind you, ordered your squad to let you be. They were sent out to guard the mouth of the cave and you walked the other way to find the spokemind.

Deeper in the cave rested a larger Hoojib, clearly older than Puffpuff. He rested by a natural spring, dipping his head to drink of it. The crystals in this part of the cave glowed even brighter than those at the mouth and the sight left you wondering if this place was even real. You couldn’t help but feel that you were trespassing on something too sacred for human eyes.

Where you stopped in your tracks to awe at what you had found, Puffpuff bounded forward, skidding to a stop half a second too late and nearly knocking the spokesmind headfirst into the spring. The spokesmind, larger than any other Hoojib you had seen yet, shook his head, shaking water off of his chin. Delivering a swift blow to Puffpuff’s rump, who didn’t seem to mind it very much if at all, he walked over to you. If Puffpuff’s giggle-riddled apology was any indication, it hadn’t caused any real damage.

The spokesmind was apparently of poor eyesight as he bumped his forehead into your knees before backtracking with a startled apology. You told him to think nothing of it as you sat down, cross-legged.

“Is this a safe place to talk, spokesmind?” you asked, leaning in and lowering your voice. You couldn’t see any other Hoojibs in this part of the cave with you, but you weren’t sure how your voice would echo out toward the mouth of the cave.

“Yes, indeed, stranger,” he said. “I am spokesmind of the Hoojibs. I go by the name of Boof. And you are?”

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I am General L/N of the First Order.” The spokesmind suddenly tensed, and Puffpuff inched closer, curious as to why this was. “We are not here to harm you or your people,” you assured. “We are strictly here on the hunt for members of the Resistance that have been rumored to be hiding on Arbra. In exchange for your cooperation, I can promise you the safety of the Hoojibs.”

You weren’t sure what it was, but in your short time interacting with the Hoojibs, you had grown rather fond of the cute little critters. You found you genuinely did not want to see them hurt. The spokesmind let out a tired sigh.

“General,” he said. “You must understand that it would be foolish of me to take any offer given to me, especially by a member of the First Order.”

“And you must understand that if you had said that to any other First Order general, there would have been hell to pay,” you said in return. Loyal as you were to your cause, violence was never something you were fond of. Ironically enough, it seemed to be all that the First Order was willing to use to achieve its ends. Boof’s fur bristled and you quickly tried to amend the situation. “That wasn’t a threat, I assure you. Just keep in mind–”

“Come out, L/N! We have no time for your games!” a very familiar voice called from the mouth of the cave. You swore under your breath, quickly glancing to see if Puffpuff had heard you. You breathed a relieved sigh when he gave no indication that he did, but Boof wasn’t impressed either way. You sighed again and got up.

“Please excuse me, spokesmind,” you said. “My colleague can be a little impatient.”

You walked toward Hux with heavy footsteps, scowling all the way. “What part of ‘I’m working’ is so hard to understand, Hux?” you ground out. From your position, you could see many Hoojibs hiding behind rocks and crystals, peeking out to peer at the general when they thought he wasn’t looking. He leered at a group who had not been so discreet and they let out vocal squeaks, ducking behind their rock and shaking in fear.

He looked you up and down, and sniffed derisively. “Working, you say? In this cave full of–”

“Negotiations take time, Hux.”

“Negotiations? With these creatures?”

“Hoojibs, Hux. Natives to Arbra,” you said firmly. Hux eyes drifted over your shoulder and you turned to see the spokesmind making his way over to you. “Please forgive my colleague, spokesmind. He was expecting the search to be much shorter work, is all.”

“Pay it no mind, General,” he said, eyeing Hux strangely. “I knew you were an oddity among the First Order the moment you left your troops outside.”

“What are you even doing, L/N?” Hux asked, grabbing your shoulder. “They can’t even talk.” You protested as he tried to lead you out of the cave. Had he not heard Boof?

“We may not talk the way you do, colleague of General L/N, but we can communicate all the same,” the spokesmind said, no doubt letting Hux hear this time. He let out a scream and jumped away from you, looking around frantically.

“Who said that?” he demanded.

“Look down.” The spokesmind stood at Hux’s feet and, as soon as they made eye contact, readied to bite him in the shin. You quickly grabbed him before he could do so and held him close to your chest. In the split second it took for you to do so, Hux had processed what the spokesmind had been intending to do.

“Were you about to bite me?”

“You scared him and the other Hoojibs,” you said, jumping to their defense. Hux scoffed and shook his head, turning away.

“Be back before sunrise, and keep your squad where they can see you, you ridiculous woman,” was all he said before leaving the cave again. You didn’t think that was his strongest insult, but let it be as you asked to continue your conversation with the spokesmind.

Negotiations continued much more smoothly from that point on, likely due to the released tension of having Hux around. You laughed to yourself at the thought; you knew exactly what that felt like. Puffpuff couldn’t bear to leave while you talked and hopped around gleefully, trying to get your attention. As cute as he was, you were working, and so you kept him in your lap and petted him to keep him quiet.

“Thank you, spokesmind,” you said, letting Puffpuff go and standing up. “The Hoojibs are now under my protection, you have my word.” The spokesmind nodded, only glad to be rid of any sort of violent activity on his planet.

“General! General!” Puffpuff said, bouncing along as you walked toward the mouth of the cave. “You’re leaving? Do you have to?”

“Yes, Puffpuff,” you said. “My work here is done now. I have to go.” His ears drooped at the news.

“Can I– Can I go with you?” he asked. You froze, as did many other Hoojibs who had heard. You crouched in front of him, frowning.

“What about your family? You can’t just leave them,” you said gently. A telepathic answer did not come this time, replaced with a sad-sounding warble.

“Puffpuff is an orphan,” mumbled the spokesmind, who had caught up to see you off. You didn’t know what to say. All you could do was pat Puffpuff’s head.

“Who’s been taking care of him?” you asked. The spokesmind explained that Puffpuff had been raised as a child of the community, as all young Hoojibs are, but that he had no permanent home. “What about your friends, Puffpuff? Surely you don’t want to leave them?”

Puffpuff sniffed. “They all have parents to go back to at the end of the day. I…” He wouldn’t dare finish, for fear of losing what composure he had left. You ruffled his fur. Your heart wept for him, it did, but it wouldn’t be right to take him away from his home.

“I’m always traveling, Puffpuff,” you said. “You might never see Arbra again.” Sure that this would deter him, you started to stand. Puffpuff leapt at you, bumping his head into your knees on the way down.

“Don’t go!” he cried. “You make me feel all warm and fuzzy the way Foora says her mommy makes her feel.” You looked into his big watery eyes and felt yourself break. You looked toward Boof for help, but he had already gone, leaving you on your own. The other Hoojibs had left as well. This was your choice to make and you could already feel yourself making it. You sighed. Khiral’s bleeding heart had rubbed off on you and you did not care for it at all.

You opened your coat and undid your belt. “Grab on and make yourself as flat as you can.” Puffpuff squealed in glee and launched himself at your torso, knocking the wind out of you. You wrapped the belt around yourself and then Puffpuff and buckled it. “Can you breath?”

“I’m fine!” came the reply. You buttoned up your coat again and ran your hand over the small bump Puffpuff made. You met your troops at the mouth of the cave and they readied to leave.

“Do I look pregnant?” you asked, suddenly and without shame. This was your squad. They answered directly to you and no one else. You could trust them to keep your little companion a secret. After several ‘no’s and a ‘it just looks like you ate too much,’ you nodded, pleased.

“Ma’am–” You answered SO-8532’s question before he finished asking it.

“If Hux can have a cat, I can have a Hoojib,” you said, unbuttoning a section of your coat to flash a bit of fur. A small paw poked out and waved. Your troops voiced their understanding and got into formation to escort you back to your ship.

As you approached, you could feel yourself getting more nervous. You weren’t sure what you would do if someone noticed. Sure you could have lower ranking personnel terminated in an angry fit as some higher officials are known to do, but what if Hux noticed? That wasn’t a discussion you wanted to have.

“Puffpuff, can you make yourself any flatter?” you asked quietly. Rather than speak, he did as you asked. You stopped and sucked in your stomach as much as you could, tightening the belt. You turned to the troops to your right, buttoning up your coat. “How do I look?”

“The same as always, ma’am.” You nodded and continued your trek to the ship, a little slower now that you couldn’t breathe so deeply.

It seemed that your nerves went unnoticed by the other officers, including Hux, and you made it back to your quarters on the Subjugator without a hitch. Undoing the belt and letting Puffpuff drop onto your bed with a giggle, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, you could breathe again.

You changed into your nightclothes without a word, letting Puffpuff run around your rooms and play as he wished. You had truly grown fond of the little creature, you found. Not a shred of regret ran through you as you watched him laugh and jump on your couch. He eventually stopped and rolled around contentedly where he lay. You walked over and sat next to him, rubbing his belly softly.

“You must be hungry,” you said. He shook his head, a little gesture he had picked up while watching your negotiations with the spokesmind.

“I just ate!”

“What did you eat?” you asked worriedly, looking around the room for any sharp objects.

“Energy! You saw the big crystals in the cave, right? They make electrical energy and we eat that!” You breathed a sigh of relief. There were a few veterinarians on the Subjugator but you doubted that they’d have any expertise in Hoojibs.

Having had enough excitement for one day, you carried Puffpuff to bed and curled around him. You closed your eyes and listened as he scuffled around, trying to get comfortable.

“General?” he asked. You hummed to let him know you were listening, though half asleep. “Can I call you mommy?” Your eyes opened at this to see his face inches away from yours. His big curious eyes peered at you and you couldn’t find it within yourself to deny him. You were going soft.

“Sure, Puffpuff, if that’s what you want.” He hummed gleefully at your answer and seeing as you were now completely awake, he went on.

“Who was that other human with the orange on top? Is he your mate? Can I call him daddy?”

“Call him that and you’re going back in the cave.”

[desolateice]

Fic Questionnaire

Tagged by @usaonetwothree

How many works do you have on Ao3?

5

What's your total AO3 word count?

362,752 

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 

I’ll just do the ones on AO3

Karate Kid (current WIP)

Marvel Cinematic Universe/Captain America

Hannibal

Free! 

Sailor Moon

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 

I only have 5 on Ao3...so err...I’m going to do the top 2

Not Enough Scotch for this Matchmaking Scheme- 499

Root Beer Floats and Green Tea- 338

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? 

It depends.

If people have questions I always try and answer them. (Depending on the question, some feel like they’re rhetorical or might lead to me spoiling something so I don’t answer those.)

Like I was asked for the smoothie recipe from Not Enough Scotch so I answered that. I do research so I’m always down for sharing the research. 

But I get a little overwhelmed. I don’t know what to say usually in response.

Comments always delight me and brighten my day. I like to talk about the story but I just don’t know how to go about it.

However, I want to with my current WIP, the problem is time. For my last two fics I challenged myself to a very intense writing/posting schedule. So right now it’s: do I keep up the chapter a day or do I respond to comments the way I want to?

I’ve picked writing at the moment. But I do want to respond to the comments I’ve gotten on this one. Everyone’s been very sweet. So I'm hoping to when I finish writing.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? 

I tend to promise happy endings because I can’t handle angsty endings. Now the beginning and middle? All the angst. Also a sprinkle of horror sometimes. With the current fic that would probably be the nightmares. 

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I can think of.

Do you write smut? 

For fic, not yet? For original works, I have but not all that often.

My current WIP is rated M, I don’t understand what the difference really is or where the line is between M and E, but we’re a long way off (maybe?) before I decide where I’m going with that.

We’ll see how it goes. Because I’ve never written a fic with an above T rating before. 

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. But who knows what’s happened to those old fics I haven’t gone back and checked on.

Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Not that I’m aware of. Again I have some that I’ve stopped paying attention to. 

Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

No. I used to try and co-write original works as like a fun challenge but I learned that it can be really difficult. Kudos to those who can and do.

What's your all time favorite ship?

You can’t beat a classic schooner or Junk. I think if I could buy one/afford one I’d go for a kayak. 🛶 (ha, actual boat jokes, sorry.)

Honestly too many.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I always finish my fics. If I’m going to share it it’s either going to be a one shot or I’m going to put in the work to complete it. Which is why it completely derails the rest of my life. (Read: currently have no free time thus answering this has taken me like all week and why I haven't responded to comments for the most part.)

I get so crushed when I read something and it’s indefinitely unfinished. No one owes me a finished fic and every writer is different. I just get a little bummed, so when I started writing fic I promised myself I’d always finish what I started. 

Now original works...yeah that’s like all of them. I was in the middle of writing a novel when I started watching Cobra Kai and then fell down a rabbit hole and this fic happened. But if other people are actively reading something I make sure to finish it. All my original wips don’t have active readers just very busy friends reading at the pace of a sloth (I say this affectionately because I know they’re busy) so they tend to fall off the wayside. 

What are your writing strengths? 

Food? Does food count? I grew up reading a lot of fics with those elaborated food scenes (Redwall and like a bazillion others). So almost all my fics have food or drink in the titles and then usually some food in it. (Which I noticed only recently the correlation between what I grew up reading and how it’s influenced my work)

Right now I’m challenging myself to the slowest most molasse slow burn I’ve ever written. I think it’s going well. 

A balance between sweet and scary?

Evoking emotion I think is what I’m looking for. I’ve been crying a lot with the current fic and based of the comments, readers have been too. 

What are your writing weaknesses? 

Staying in the right tense. The amount of times I go back and find I’ve switched tense is really frustrating. It’s usually because I was writing at different times. I also should read it out loud to catch grammar and spelling but I don’t. So...sorry in advance.

You would not believe the amount of times I find “teh” instead of “the”. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?  Context: I don’t mind reading fics with dialogue in another language if it’s minor, very easily understood from context, or it’s translated right after. But if I have to scroll down to the bottom to read the translations then somehow scroll back to where I was without reading anything spoilery in the process, I’m not gonna be happy.

I’ve had more of that in this current WIP and I’m trying to find a balance. I’m trying to keep it all very minor. We’ll see how it goes. I don't mind.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

I don’t remember. Again there’s some on some other site I haven’t touched in years.

Although...I was given an assignment at school to continue a book in our English class so it might actually have been “the Outsiders”, just no one except my English teacher read that one. (I got an A :P)

What's your favorite fic you've ever written? 

I’ve been trying to do different things lately. To challenge myself. Originally I’d write fic because I got miffed at the story and needed to “fix it”. But these last two have been more fun? So Not Enough Scotch I wanted to try and cram as many romantic/rom com tropes into a fic as possible. And it was really fun to like take a different chapter and try and test it out. 

But honestly I’m having a ton of fun with my current fic. I like traveling so fitting travel and research in and then food that’s special to those places and cooking is just nice. Plus I’m usually impatient so it’s like a good challenge for myself to slow down and enjoy the scenic route instead of running head first into...well in this case the ship getting together.

Plus I’m not suffering alone. It’s shared. Which, aren’t some of the best journeys shared?

Tagging: If you write fic and you see this and haven’t done it consider yourself tagged. 😊