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roscgcld · 3 years

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HEADCANON + GOJO SATORU || the gojo twins

request: HELLO^^ so I’ve been wondering this so long but do you think it would even be possible if Gojo had a twin sister that also has the sixth eye ? Probably not but, I’d kinda want to know what the clans higher ups and curses react to 2 sixth eye user.

note: I am glad I am not the only one thinking about this lol. like what if they were two gojos? absolute chaos the world has ever seen. i love it, this entire prompt lives in my head rent free lol

pronouns: she/her

gojotwins!au masterlist

imagine the other clan’s reactions when they learn that not one, but two of the gojo clan’s newest heirs were born with the highly coveted Six Eyes?

gojo satoru and y/n - the newest members of the gojo clan, twins that are born with the Six Eyes. a first case that has ever happened in the family’s history. it was this monumental moment when the higher ups realise that things are going to be interesting

by the way - you’re the older twin lol. just so you can poke jabs at gojo for the rest of your life by using the line. “i’m the older sibling here!”

“only by like, two minutes!”

that being said though, over-protective twin brother who will scare all your boyfriends/girlfriends the first time they meet because of his height and overly nice personality that scares people even more

you’re just as bad though - if any girl or guy walks out of his room after a night of fun you will probably be a little bitch and make them feel awkward until gojo wakes up

“can’t you be a little nicer to them?” gojo groans after the person he slept with last night quickly left after an awkward cup of morning coffee with you. “I actually liked them a lot.”

but it’s all done with love, and if the other realise their significant other makes them happy, they will back off

the moment you two entered jujutsu tech, then yaga-sensei was about to hand in his retirement slip early with the sheer chaos that his year of students were bringing him

ieiri was delighted that she wasn’t going to be the only girl at school; geto was amused how you two were basically copy and paste of each other, just in different genders

surprisingly enough, think you’d be the one who’d be the more studious and definitely more interesting in learning how to hone your skills better - gojo probably still has this ‘i am the strongest’ mentality that the elders planted in him because ✨misogyny✨

but he loves to compete with you - and you’re the only one who’d he ever admit defeat to, and will defend your honour whenever the elders talk down on you because you’re a girl. and to them, girls are just meant to be ‘a pretty face with strong genes to bring a strong generation into the world’

he’s probably the one who talked your elders out of arranging a marriage between you and an heir to another important family like the kamo clan - because there is no way in hell is he going to let some random ass man take you away from him

probably joking told you that if all else fails, to marry geto on the spot - and let’s be honest here, who wouldn’t? Geto looks so damn fine both the anime and especially in the Gojo Past Arch. rail me daddy-

*cough cough*

anyway - ever since that comment, geto and you might pretend to flirt with each other to get gojo riled up. playfully brushing your hand along his arm, playing with his hair between your fingers whenever you two talk, geto leaning close to you to whisper something in your ear with a smirk, or him resting his hand around your waist whenever he leads you about

it always gets gojo riled up, and he’d get in between the both of you; whining for you to give him attention instead

you probably sneak into his room, even as you got older, to hide in his arms whenever you have a nightmare - and he’d wordlessly just hold you close and cuddle you to sleep again no matter how old you two are

both of you share the same braincell - same reactions, expressions, and sometimes even finishing each other’s sentences. sometimes you two even say the same thing at the same time, to which you two just high five each other with a laugh

freaks everyone out a little, since it’s just so random and natural for the both of you to do it

nanami hates it whenever he has to accompany you two - as his senpais, he can’t complain much. he does learn a lot, yet at the same time, he can’t stand it when the both of you are sent on a mission together

with you he’s fine; but he barely tolerates gojo

ijichi loves you, since you compliment him on the smallest of things, or smile at him warmly whenever he does something right; may have a crush on you that he refuses to reveal to anyone

both of you probably have shopping trips every weekend; don’t tell me you two don’t splurge on clothing when you two can charge whatever it is you want to the gojo clan account

you two probably got a lot of those roadside modelling offers - and sometimes you’d probably even joke about leaving the whole jujutsu world behind to become a model instead

“i mean - it pays. and all i need to do is sit and look pretty.”

a lot of ‘did not!’ and ‘did too!’ arguments all day long

you two love to taunt the Curses together before you kill them - it makes them only more scared, but the ‘chase more fun’

“say, toru - it looks so weak for a semi-first, no?”

“must be a new born - how pathetic.”

bags of candies all over the place - somehow he got you addicted to candy as well, so whenever you two travel, you always buy different candies and different treats

when geto betrayed you all in your third year, gojo turned to you as his pillar of familiarity; even more so when he was force to kill his best friend a few years later. the both of you leaned on each other as you start to pick the pieces of yourselves once more

both you and your brother share the same idea of changing the jujutsu world from the inside out, so you two decided to take up teaching together under the command of now principal yaga

poor man is deciding if he now regrets accepting both of your applications

you took in megumi as your own by the way - so megumi respects you a lot since you’re like the mother he never had. but at the same time, he wouldn’t be surprise if he heard that you do something stupid with your twin brother

feel like gojo and you will spend your free time probably trying to unlock more secrets of the Limitless and how to use your Six Eyes better - and Gojo will teach you how to probably use Hallow Purple and how to use Reverse Cursed Techniques with the held of ieiri as well

you took in maki, inumaki and even panda as your own kids as well - teaching them whenever gojo is forced to go and solve some issue the higher ups throw at him; making the kids super protective of you

even when yuta came, you didn’t care about the special grade curse that was stuck inside of him; treating him like an actual person and training him up and build his confidence once more

when you heard what happened to the special-grade cursed object that megumi was tasked on taking the following year, you laughed your ass off for 10 minutes while megumi tried not to show his annoyance

“y/n-sensei, i almost died. it is not funny.”

but you still took yuji in as your own child, and when you were giving him a tour around campus, you raised an eyebrow when a pair of lips appeared on the side of his cheek

“even though i want to kill that white haired bastard, i might spare your pretty little face.”

“hello to you too, sukuna.” you greeted with a smile while yuji slapped a hand over the mouth, apologising to you with a wild blush on his face. you just laughed and reassured the poor boy it was alright

when nobara came, you adopted her as well; and she loves you, and loves how in tune with the trends you are. you two even have a girl’s night where you talk about everything that happens and have a few rants about boys

all in all - highkey chaotic, but with more common sense then your younger twin brother gojo and knows how to act professional whenever you need to. you also tend to adopt all the students that walks through your doors, and they view you as a parental figure as well. you and your brother are a menace together, but you two get things done and no one can really complain

gojo is protective, but when it comes to you it’s worse lol. but you’re just as bad when it comes to making sure ‘your baby brother’ is safe. you two tend to be super sassy and throw shade at each other, but when it comes down to the basics, you two love each other a lot and will go the extra mile to make sure that each other are safe

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homosexuhauls · 3 years

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15 JUNE, 2021 by Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie

IT IS OBSCENE: A TRUE REFLECTION IN THREE PARTS

PART ONE

When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth.

In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you.

Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote.

Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism.

After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception.

She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter.

Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.)

I was told she went on social media and insulted me.

This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way.

Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease.

After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again.

A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored.

Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM

Dearest Chimamanda,

Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change.

I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said.

I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you.

I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more.

Have a wonderful day today.

Love always.

About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored.

Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM

Dear Chimamanda,

I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say.

I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life.

You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down.

I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me.

Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well.

All my love,

I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.”

It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral.

No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all.

I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person.

And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you.

And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.

PART TWO

When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved.

They sent this email.

Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM

Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s.

All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba.

Thank you, with all my heart.

PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂

About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published.

Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM

Greetings!

I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors.

I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you.

All my best,

Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter.

After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead.

Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult.

When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography?

Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me.

I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore.

I sent an email to my representative:

From: Chimamanda Adichie

Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM

I’m writing about X

She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop.

Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me.

I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical.

It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship.

To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me.

I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way.

After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote:

They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints.

I replied:

I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so.

On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote:

I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably.

I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on.

But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me.

This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’

This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me.

This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others.

The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true.

My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it.

Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories.

Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior.

You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name?

You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it?

What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way?

Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist.

PART THREE

In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.

I find it obscene.

There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class.

People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.

People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.

#chimamanda ngozi adichie #femimism #nigerian feminism #radfem safe #gender critical #radical feminism #cancel culture #forgot the link oops

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0606-hyuck · 3 years

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first kiss forum

♡ everyone has their first kiss eventually. sometimes, you just have to create an online forum to find the right one. and sometimes, the right one is not at all who you expected it to be.

genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you look hard enough, university!au, friends to strangers to lovers!au

paring: na jaemin x female reader

word count: 3.5K

a/n: i have never had my first kiss b4 so the description of it might be a bit off lol but i tried. this is unedited btw. my masterlist is here!

tagging: @nct-writers

Everybody has their first kiss eventually.

First kisses are described as an experience every young girl yearns for. An experience classmates sit around in a circle and proclaim their excitement for, and gossip about their own stories. Something that, for some, was everything they'd ever hoped for and more - for others, a memory they’d rather forget.

A first kiss was something you had not had yet.

At the age of twenty-one, you were getting to the stage where your lack of romantic life was veering towards concerning. Now in your third year of university, you really thought that by now you would have at least had your first kiss. Or a boyfriend. Or even held someone’s hand romantically, for god’s sake!

You weren’t one to rush into things, though. You didn’t see the point in trying your hardest to get a boy’s attention when you were perfectly fine without it. Some people you knew couldn’t stand being single - for you, it was all you’d ever known. Sure, you’d wanted to be in a relationship before, but you’d always prioritised your education and grades over hooking up with people at random frat parties in the weekend.

The only problem was, your last remaining single friend, Asi, had gone and found herself a man, and was now just as loved up as everyone else. She was the friend you’d hang out with when everyone else was on dates with their significant other, the friend you’d roll your eyes with when your other friends were going on and on about the latest cute thing their partner had done for them. Now, you were all alone, with no one to save you from the clutches of boredom or second hand embarrassment.

You were happy for your friends - of course you were, all you wanted was for them to be content in their relationships - but it was worrying you that boys had never really shown an interest in you. You didn’t think you were ugly - in fact, you had a healthy level of self esteem - but you’d never had anyone confess their feelings for you like your friends had. You were starting to wonder if there was something wrong with you. Were you really that boring that no boys wanted to talk to you? Were you just that unlikeable?

Before your train of thought plunged itself off the rails and into a deep pit of self loathing and pity, you reminded yourself that you were, in fact, likeable. Boys had liked you before, of course they had - you were great! Only, it had been a long time since someone had had a crush on you.

Na Jaemin had been the first boy to show a serious interest in you, back when you were both just sixteen years old. Jaemin was that boy in class that all the girls had a secret crush on. He wasn’t necessarily good looking in an “oh my god he’s so hot!” kind of way, but his bright smile, eyes that shone with curiosity and amusement, and cheeky personality had you hooked on him since the first time you’d met him.

You’d been classmates with Jaemin since you were fourteen, and you’d had a crush on him for just as long, but it took a few more years for him to return your feelings. It was only after you were paired up for a science project together that you actually started talking to each other and becoming friends. Jaemin was virtually a massive ball of sunshine in the classroom, and ever since you were paired up together he always made sure to include you in conversations, games, and the friend groups he was in. It was a few months after your science project that you heard little snippets of conversations from his friends - rumours started circulating that Jaemin had a crush on you!

When you brought it up with him, expecting him to brush it off as a joke his friends had started to embarrass him, you were utterly shocked when he admitted the rumours were true. He told you outright that he liked you, but didn’t expect or want to pressure you into feeling the same way back, so he simply grinned and walked away before you could respond.

A few days later, he came into class carrying a yellow flower. You’re positive every single girl in your class had their eyes fixed on Jaemin as he walked up to your desk and placed it in front of you. The flower was frayed and browning at the edges, and it appeared Jaemin had simply ripped it out of his own back garden, but it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you.

After that, he constantly invited you to hang out with him and his friends at the local arcade or basketball court. He was never embarrassed to have you around, and would always make sure you felt comfortable and were having fun above all else. Soon, you would hang out together, just the two of you. You never established what your relationship was, but you both knew you were best friends, and that Jaemin liked you and you liked him just as much.

And then, he left.

Just like that, Jaemin was no longer a student at your school. You heard from his friends that he’d transferred to another school a couple districts over. He left without saying a word to you, and you weren’t even upset. You just wondered what would have happened between you two if he’d stayed.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you finally focused on what Asi was saying. It was when your best friend was going on a tangent about how lovely her new boyfriend was that you made a decision. If you couldn’t get your first kiss the conventional way, then you had no choice but to resort to unorthodox methods.

You were going to create a first kiss forum.

It was simple, really. Create an online forum with some crucial questions - name, age, why they wanted to be your first kiss, etc - and then send it off into the online world. It took you less than thirty minutes to decide on the questions, create the forum, and then post it on a facebook page followed by students from your university. You honestly felt a little embarrassed that you were going through this much effort all for a first kiss, and you were worried about what people would say in response to your post, but after an hour all the comments people left were either them being super supportive of your initiative or people tagging their friends to apply for the position of “first-kiss-taker”.

Now all you had to do was sit back and wait a couple of days for the responses to roll in.

“So, have you checked the responses to your forum yet?” Asi asked, reclining back into the sofa in your living room and grabbing a fistful of crisps. When you’d told her your plan to create the forum, Asi was hesitant. She didn’t believe you needed to go through all that effort just to get a first kiss - according to her, first kisses weren’t even a big deal anyway - but once she realised your mind was set she did everything in her power to be that supportive best friend you needed.

“Not yet,” you sighed, fiddling with your phone in your hand. “I’m just nervous, you know? What if no one wants to be my first kiss, and they only applied because they thought it would be funny?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, Y/N. Crack that bad boy open and let’s go through some of the responses!”

You’d refrained from checking the forum since you’d posted it thus far, but at this point it had been quite a few days and the hype your post initially received had died down. Pulling up the forum on your phone, Asi leaned over your shoulder while your jaw hung open in surprise.

“Asi, are you seeing this?” You managed to stammer out. “53 responses? That’s so much more than I was expecting. I thought I’d get, like, five at the most!”

“Damn, that is a lot,” Asi replied, beaming at you. “Now let’s narrow that 53 down to one.”

Huddled together over your screen, you and Asi spent the next few hours deciding between the applicants, searching for your ideal first kiss taker. “How about this guy, Taeyong?” She suggested.

“His responses to the questions were sweet,” you agreed, and then blanched. “Asi, he’s 25! I don’t want to have my first kiss with someone that much older than me!”

“Okay, so someone close in age with you....hmm, how about this dude, Donghyuck?”

Glancing at the screen for a second, you shook your head. “Did you see his response for the ‘why do you want to be Y/N’s first kiss’ question? He said ‘because I have a corruption kink’. No thank you.”

“God, you’re so fussy, Y/N!” Asi joked, shoving you lightly with her shoulder, although your focus was back on the applicants.

“How about this guy? He simply put his name as J but his responses are so heartfelt,” you pointed out. “In response to the ‘why do you want to be Y/N’s first kiss’ question, he said ‘have you seen her? Y/N is literally a goddess sent down from the heavens and a first kiss is a beautiful experience for both parties and one I would love to share with her’.”

“Oh, so this J is a sweet talker then, huh?” Asi grinned. “I think you’ve already made your mind up, then. Go ahead and message him, he sounds like a good guy!”

And message him you did.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear?”

Today was the day you’d agreed to meet this mysterious J and have your first ever kiss. After selecting J out of all the applicants, you’d messaged him with the good news that he’d been chosen. J seemed really excited, and you’d been talking with him every day leading up to when you would finally meet him. The lucky guy seemed almost perfect for you. Somehow, J knew exactly what to say in response to your messages, and every time you checked your phone you were smiling because of something funny he had said. He was genuinely sweet, and you don’t think you could have made a better choice when it came to your first kiss taker.

Only now, you had spent too long fretting about your outfit and you were running slightly late to your meeting with J. You’d both agreed to meet at this cute little park down near the subway station close to your university - somewhere public, so you felt safe, but also somewhere that was relatively quiet and offered you some privacy. J had sent you pictures of himself before, but only pieces of his appearance - a mirror shot with his face covered by his phone, a corner of his eye and forehead, his hair - nevertheless, you still felt confident you’d made the right decision and that J was the right person for the job.

You sent J a quick ‘I’m here now, sorry I’m late’ text once you reached the park, and headed towards your agreed meeting spot. There was an old bench secluded under a wide cherry blossom tree that you’d decided to meet J at, and because it was over the other side of the park you picked up your feet and increased the pace.

You only slowed down when you spotted a figure, already sitting on the bench under the tree. As you got closer, you realised it was a male, around your age, dressed in a knitted brown sweater and black jeans. His light brown hair was wavy and brushed back from his face, and he appeared to be clutching something tightly in his hands. He looked vaguely familiar from this distance, you thought, but you figured it was because you were finally seeing his face in real life, rather than piecing it together through random selfies.

That was, until you were close enough for him to notice you, and turn around to say, “hi, Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you again.”

Standing up from the bench was Na Jaemin, your former best friend and crush, holding a bunch of yellow flowers between his hands. Of course J was Jaemin, that was just your luck.

You and Jaemin hadn’t left on good terms. Back in high school, back when you were best friends with him, Jaemin was very popular. He seemed to do everything right - from hotspotting your classmates to helping them with their homework, Jaemin was loved by everyone because of how caring he was. You were lucky enough to bear the brunt of that kindness when you were his friend, but you were also young and prone to jealousy.

Not only was he loved by everyone, but Jaemin seemed to love everyone back as equally as much. His innate ability to charm literally everyone he talked to - from classmates to teachers to parents - was something you’d loved about him at first, but soon became the bane of your existence. You found it hard to share Jaemin’s attention with everyone else in your class, and, although you knew Jaemin liked you the most, in your eyes it seemed like he was treating your classmates the same way he treated you.

You started questioning whether Jaemin actually liked you at all, or if you’d just read too much into the situation. You tried to ignore the sweet smiles and kind compliments he gave other girls in your class, and looking back now you realised he was only being friendly and that’s just who he was as a person, but you were starting to slip into the poisonous grasp of jealousy and feel like you were no more special than anyone else.

One day you decided to confront Jaemin about how nice he treated everyone, and how it made you feel like he didn’t behave towards you the way someone would to their crush, and he did not take that conversation well. You don’t blame him, not really, considering you essentially told him to stop being so nice to everyone and focus on you instead. Jaemin said he wasn’t going to stop being kind to people because you felt jealous, which upset you even more, and you didn’t talk to each other in the days following your fight.

When Jaemin left your school, you two were still very angry at each other, so he didn’t tell you he was having to leave. Quite frankly, you didn’t care. Jaemin could suck it, at that point. If he insisted on treating you the same way as your classmates, who he didn’t have a literal crush on, then he didn’t deserve you at all. You felt like a whole lot of weight and unnecessary jealousy was lifted when Jaemin left, but as you got older you started to wonder how your relationship would have turned out if you hadn’t been so damn immature.

It’s funny, really. When you were sixteen, you thought Jaemin was going to be your first. Your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first love. And here he was, five years later, offering to give that to you.

“I got you flowers. I remember they used to be your favourite,” Jaemin spoke, flashing you a soft smile as he held out the bouquet of flowers to you. Now that he was standing next to you, you noticed all the traces of the sixteen year old version of him that you were familiar with. Although he had gained an extra half foot in height and lost the chubbiness of his cheeks, he retained the stunning smile and bright eyes that you fell in love with all those years ago. He really was handsome now.

“So, you’re J?” You managed to say, confusion and surprise evident in your voice as you took the flowers. You took a seat back down on the bench and Jaemin followed your lead, sitting closely beside you.

“That I am. Sorry I wasn’t honest with you about who I was,” he admitted. “I figured you probably wouldn’t meet up with me if you knew who J really was.” You lifted the flowers up to your nose and took a long draw of the flowery scent. Jaemin was right, that infuriatingly attentive bastard, they were your favourite.

“Right. And yet you still applied to be my...first kiss?”

Suddenly, you felt very embarrassed to confess you’d never had your first kiss before. Jaemin was gorgeous, and there was no way he was in the same boat as you, you thought as humiliation flooded through your body.

“Uh yeah, about that,” Jaemin chuckled, a blush appearing on his cheeks. Hold up, why was he blushing? “When I saw your post about the first kiss forum online, I was so surprised that you’d never had your first kiss before. I kept thinking, if we hadn’t stopped talking to each other we probably would have been each other’s first kiss back in high school.”

He paused, and glanced at the ground, unable to keep eye contact with you. “I feel really bad, you know. With how things ended between us. We never dated, Y/N, but I really liked you. When I moved to my new school, I wanted to message you and tell you all about it, but because you never messaged me I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

Your breath caught at Jaemin’s words, and you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. “That’s not true,” you revealed, and he finally looked up at you again. “I was so angry at you, yes, but I missed you so much, too. I wanted to talk to you, but my pride stopped me from messaging you first. If you’d sent me a text I would have replied.”

“I nearly did. When I finished high school, I was going through all my old subject books and found a note you’d written me. It was so childish, something about how you would love me forever, with a stupid little love heart beside it, but I suddenly had the urge to wrap you in a massive hug and tell you I was sorry, and that I forgave you. I was going to message you that day, but we hadn’t talked for years and I thought you would find that weird,” Jaemin said sadly.

He let out a loud sigh, and replaced the very sorry look on his face with a bright smile. “I’ve had my first kiss already, but when I saw your forum I thought it wasn’t too late to give you yours!”

“Wait, what?” You furrowed your brows, your brain still processing the fact that Na Jaemin missed you as much as you missed him, if not more. “You actually want to be my first kiss?”

“Of course! I couldn’t give it to you when we were sixteen, but it’s not too late to make up for past mistakes, Y/N.” Jaemin placed a hand over your own and pulled it closer to him, wrapping you in his warmth. “Y/N, I would be honoured to be your first kiss, if you’ll have me.”

Unsure as to how to reply, and transfixed by how seriously Jaemin was taking this whole ordeal, you simply nodded your head eagerly. His eyes lit up with pure happiness when you gave him the green light, and Jaemin turned on the bench so you were facing each other directly. He placed a hand lightly on your jaw and tilted your head upwards - not with force but with a dominance gained only from having kissed others before - and searched your eyes for any signs of resistance, finding none.

One minute you were gazing back into Jaemin’s rich brown eyes, and the next his lips were on yours, pressing softly against your mouth. It was like an alarm went off in your head, screeching to you that your childhood crush, your first love, was in fact actually kissing you and this wasn’t a figment of your imagination. Using his palm to tilt your head slightly to the side, Jaemin deepened the kiss and you grasped for his forearms as he increased the intensity by parting your unpracticed lips. Tremors passed from your head down to every single fibre in your body, and through the pleasure and dizziness you were vaguely aware that you were kissing him back. Kissing Jaemin was exactly how you imagined it would be, yet it was a whole new experience at the same time. A perfect mix of familiar and foreign.

After a few long moments, Jaemin released your lips and leaned back, a smile equal parts bashful and smug crossing his face. His face was red, and you weren’t quite sure whether it was from a lack of air or because of what you’d just done together, but what you did know was that you couldn’t think of someone more perfect to share your first kiss with.

“So,” Jaemin grinned. “I think we have about five years worth of kissing to catch up on.”

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct-writers #dreamwritersnet #nct #nct dream #na jaemin #jaemin nct #nct jaemin #jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin scenario #jaemin imagine #jaemin fic

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

happy accident || iwaizumi hajime

➵ writing a love letter is stupid. childish, even. but it’s no big deal, so long as iwaizumi hajime doesn’t get his hands on it... right?

wc: 4k

warnings: f!reader is the captain of the girls volleyball team, cursing

request: “kind of specific, hope you don't mind but possibly iwa-chan attempting teenage love by accepting the feelings of an accidentally-sent love letter from the girl's volleyball team captain?”

a/n: this was so fun, thank you for requesting it! a big thank you to @nostalgic-yet-forgotten for beta’ing this!

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi said, offering you a strained smile as he held your pencil out to you.

“Not a problem,” you nodded, trying to take it out of his hand with as little contact as possible.

“Hey, uh,” he stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at you. “How are you doing contemporary lit?”

“Contemporary lit?” You frowned. “I, uh… fine? Not great, but…”

“Right,” Iwaizumi nodded, clearing his throat. “Well, see you around.”

“Sure.”

With that, he was gone.

You watch him go with a budding discontent.

What was that? That barely counted as a conversation. And for God’s sake, why had it taken him a week to return your damn pencil? You’d just assumed he’d forgotten.

You could feel Yuri’s eyes burning into the back of your skull.

“I know,” you grumbled as she zipped to your side, taking her usual spot on your bench. You’d both made a habit of sitting here during lunch – a stone’s throw from the gym, and a short walk to the vending machine.

“Was that…”

“It was.”

“Fraternising with the enemy, I see.”

“It’s not like that and you know it.” You glared at her, reaching into your bag in some attempt to leave the conversation.

‘Fraternising with the enemy’ was one way of putting it. The ‘enemy’ being a member of Seijoh’s famous volleyball team.

Well, the boys’ volleyball team. That was the only one people wanted to talk about. The girls' team never seemed to get as much attention. And that, quite frankly, was unfair. Yes, the boys' team worked hard; but so did you. So did your girls.

Also, if it weren't for your boundless grace -- and the acknowledgement that a criminal record might mar your college applications -- you would've shoved your fist down Oikawa Tooru's throat by now. He was talented, yes, but you’d always found him kind of an ass. Made worse by all the attention he got – his personality plus an adoring fan club always seemed a recipe for disaster to you.

Iwaizumi Haijme, however, was another matter entirely.

A matter you couldn’t get out of your head.

“Why do you look so angry?” Yuri frowned, tilting her head at you.

“Because, uh… because Iwaizumi took all week to return my damn pencil,” you huffed, shoving the offending object into your pencil case. “And he decided to ruin a perfectly good lunchtime just to return it.”

“Don’t you have a crush on him?” Yuri asked in a hushed tone, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah, but…” You sucked your breath in through your teeth. “I'm mad about it."

"You're mad about having a crush on him?" She raised an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah."

"Why exactly?"

"Because he's…"

There wasn't any real reason. You just felt that there had to be some natural rivalry between the two of you, given the state of your respective teams. Sure, Iwaizumi himself hadn't done anything wrong, but it was the principle of it. Worst of all, he was best friends with Oikawa Tooru. Sure, he seemed to be… long-suffering, but the connection was there.

“I’m just mad, okay?” You whispered, hoping to God none of your classmates had decided to eavesdrop on the conversation. But that’s the price you paid, talking about such things so brazenly. “I’ve got all these… these feelings but they’ve got nowhere to go.”

“What do you mean?” Yuri asked, taking a sip of her milk.

“Well, you know,” you mumbled, playing with the hem of your skirt. “I’m never going to tell him about it, so they just… sort of sit there. Stewing. Unanswered.” You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “I just want them to go away.”

That, really, would be the most ideal situation. But no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t stop thinking about him. Embarrassing, really.

"Look," Yuri sighed, looking up at the sky. "Why don't you just write him a love letter?"

"You're kidding, right?" You scoffed. "Do you want me to do a whole confession? Ask him to meet me on the rooftop after school as the sun sets behind us?"

"You're not going to give it to him, you idiot," she mumbled. "Just to like... get your feelings out, you know? Teen angst and whatnot."

"You're making very little sense."

"Okay, three things," she said, holding up her hand. "One, you're not going to tell him how you feel, right? That means you're just gonna stew in your feelings. Like you always do."

"Uncalled for, but okay.”

"Two, sometimes writing down how your feeling is cathartic. And maybe that'll help you move on."

"Or it could complicate things because I'll overthink it."

"Three, I, personally, am sick and tired of hearing about Mr. Iwaizumi 'personally crafted by the hands of Michelangelo himself' Hajime, and therefore implore you to try getting him out of your system through any means possible."

"I don't talk about him that much." Did you?

Yuri gave you a dithering look. "No, you don't. Just like Oikawa's fan club never talks about his ridiculously swoopy hair."

You glared at her, crossing your arms over your chest. “You make it sound like he’s the only thing I ever talk about.”

“Oh, not at all,” Yuri shrugged. “But I can’t help but think you’d be a lot less angry if you got over him.”

“And you think writing a stupid love letter is going to help me do that?” You rolled your eyes. You knew Yuri wasn’t stupid – she was almost aggravatingly clever, sometimes – but this was the worst plan you’d heard from her in a while.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

“I’m not writing a damn love letter okay?”

✧✧✧

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all,” Yuri grinned. “Just do it for me, okay? As an early birthday gift.”

“Yuri, your birthday’s not for another three months.”

“Just do it. Or else I will march up to that boy and tell him myself.”

You knew she was more than capable of making good on a threat like that. Best not to risk it.

"You want me to write it now?" You frowned, looking between your best friend and the writing pad set on your lap. You’d hoped she’d forgotten your conversation from yesterday, but you never got that lucky. Not with Yuri.

"Uh huh," Yuri yawned, sitting cross-legged on the bench.

She'd dragged you into the gym just as school had ended, telling you that it was for something very important and very urgent.

"Why?"

"I wanna see you actually go through with it," she shrugged, taking a sip from the juice box in her hand.

"Can't I just… do it at home and send you a photo?" You tilted your head at her. You still had to survive practice, after all. And there was a chance you’d bump into him before the day was done.

Yuri shook her head. "Nah. If you're alone -- and if you have all evening to do it -- you'll just overthink it and that'll defeat the point."

You glared at her. She hardly seemed to notice.

"Besides," she shrugged. "If you do it at home, you'll just text me about him."

“Yuri, I do not—”

“Letter,” she hummed, tapping the paper. “We don’t have much time.”

She wasn’t about to concede any time soon. You could see it in her eyes.

"I literally cannot believe you're making me do this," you grumbled, picking up the pencil with tense fingers.

"It's for your own good," she sighed, waving her hand at you. "Then you can shift your focus to the real prize of the boys' volleyball team."

You raised an eyebrow at her.

"I'm talking about Makki, duh."

You snorted. "That wouldn't really fix my problem, would it?"

Yuri shrugged. "Hey, at least he'd be more fun to talk about than Iwaizumi."

"And that's because…"

"I dunno. He seems off-beat. Kinda weird."

"Don't be mean."

"I'm not! It's a compliment!"

"So, will you be writing him a love letter, or?"

"I didn't say I'm interested, I just—" Yuri took a deep breath, pressing her eyelids with two fingers. "Look, just write the damn letter!"

It was easier than you thought it would be. That in itself was more embarrassing than the fact you were writing an honest to God love letter to Iwaizumi Hajime. As much as you were resisting it, the words just flowed.

You hadn’t even realised there were so many things to like about him. And apparently, you’d noticed all of them. Maybe you were in deeper than you’d thought.

And this letter was getting a lot longer than you’d expected.

Alright. That was enough.

“Done,” you sighed, tossing the pencil onto the writing pad with a little more force than necessary.

“So,” Yuri drawled, tilting her head at you. “How do you feel?”

“Worse!” You cried. “Now I’ve actually had to think about why I like him and that makes it worse.”

“Ah. My bad.”

“This is going in the bin right now,” you huffed, standing to your feet. “And we are never speaking about this ever again.”

“Duly noted,” Yuri sighed, slipping off the table.

You stormed out of the locker room, tossing the cursed letter at the bin. You never wanted to see that damned thing ever again.

✧✧✧

"Guess what I found!"

Yahaba's voice rang through the locker room, a tad too much delight in his voice.

“Your dignity?” Matsukawa called out.

"Even better," Yahaba's face appeared from the doorway, grinning. "It's a love letter."

He held his hand up, a small, crumpled piece of paper pinched between his fingers.

"Just put it with the rest of them," Oikawa sighed, waving a hand at him. Iwaizumi's eye twitched.

"Uh…" Yahaba cleared his throat, eyes flicking to where the rest of the third years were standing. "It's not actually for you."

Everyone's head perked up at that.

"Huh?" Matsukawa tilted his head to the side.

"Who's it for, then?" Kindaichi asked quietly, the top of his ears blushed red.

"Iwaizumi."

A moment of shocked silence.

"What?"

All eyes were on him. Iwaizumi could already feel his cheeks growing red.

Someone had left a letter for… him? Not for Oikawa?

Seriously?

Yahaba slunk towards him, holding the letter out. The fact he seemed a little nervous about it made Iwaizumi feel something akin to annoyance.

"Did you read it?" Iwaizumi swallowed roughly, yanking it from Yahaba's hand like an unlucky fortune strip.

"Just who it's for," Yahaba said, eyes on the ground. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, but he didn't press the issue further.

There was no way this letter was supposed to end up in his hands. None at all.

"Well, are you gonna read it?" Hanamaki was smirking. Iwaizumi didn't even need to look at him to be sure of that.

"No," Iwaizumi grumbled. "Isn't that a little rude?"

"But Iwa, the drama--"

"Don't be an ass," he grunted, cutting Oikawa off. Sure, he was curious himself, but he wasn't going to embarrass the writer. Not if it wasn't even meant to get to him.

“Fine,” Oikawa sighed, waving a hand at him. “Let’s start, okay?”

Iwaizumi tried to ignore the strange feeling in his chest for the entirety of practice. He really, truly did.

But by the time he got home, his curiosity had reached its absolute limit.

He lay on his bed, turning the letter over in his hands. Something about it felt so… sacred. So forbidden. It had his name on it, but it hadn’t been given to him by anyone. It hadn’t even been left anywhere for him. Yahaba had ‘found’ it.

Should he read it? Should he put it in the bin?

Thoughts about what it might say had hounded him all practice. He could barely focus on the matter at hand – no, he just kept wondering who could possibly have written him a love letter.

He had to read the damn thing. If he didn’t, he was sure the suspense would drive him mad.

He sighed, unfolding it.

“Dear Hajime Iwaizumi,

Admittedly I'm not great at this sort of thing. It wasn't even my idea. You can thank Yuri for that. Apparently I talk about you too much so she told me to put my feelings down on paper. So, that's what I'm trying to do.”

He frowned. Yuri? Wasn’t that the vice-captain of the girls’ team? And the author talked about him too much? A girl talked about him? Not in comparison to Oikawa?

I first noticed you in our first year (I promise I'm not about to launch into a whole retrospective -- that's not only a waste of time, but it's also deeply unromantic), when you made a killer spike during practice. I came to watch because I wanted to scope out what the boy's team was like. I didn't expect to be genuinely impressed. So, congrats, I guess? Good job?

Practice? The author had been there during practice? Why would they want to ‘scope out’ what the boy’s team was like? He’d assume it was one of Oikawa’s fans, but…

Anyway, I thought you were kind of cute, so I kept an eye on you. Oh man, that sounds creepy. I promise I didn't get up to anything weird, I just yearned from afar. I thought it would pass. But then, like, halfway through second year you got hot. So, fuck you for that one.”

He snorted at that.

“Okay, this is sounding less like a confession and more like a list of your crimes. Sorry, just some of that unnecessary rivalry I've built up in my head towards the boys' team.”

The reference to the ‘boys’ team’ again. Was this who he thought it was?

No. He wouldn’t let himself hope.

“That aside, I couldn't help but notice how dedicated you are to the sport. How hard you work. How much you apply yourself. It mustn't be easy, keeping Oikawa in check; he strikes me as the sort who's prone to self-destructing if no-one's looking. But it's like you keep him grounded. I'm not sure if you get praise enough for that.

And I can tell that your team really, really respects you. Especially your underclassmen. That's no small feat, you know. I mean, I'm sure you do know, but—”

He pressed a hand to his face. Yep. He was burning up, alright.

“I don't quite know how to explain it, but I see this kindness in you as well. We've only spoken a handful of times, but when we have, I've always felt like you've respected me and what I have to say. A lot of the girls are scared shitless of you, but they all feel safe when you're around.”

‘The girls’? As in… the girls’ volleyball team? God, what he wouldn’t give…

“Okay, I'm definitely rambling, and I'm not making a lot of sense, but thank you for being a good guy. That's a big part of why I'm so attracted to you.

So, this has gotten embarrassingly long. I'm sure my face is bright red as I write this.”

If only he could let the author know that his face was just as red while reading it.

“TL;DR -- you're hot and you seem cool. Also, you look great when you're all sweaty after practice. I don't know how you manage it.

Okay bye.”

And there, at the very bottom, was your name.

His heart felt like it was going to both collapse and burst through his chest.

You’d written all that. You. The captain of the girls’ volleyball team. The girl that made his heart beat a little faster whenever you walked in the room. The girl he kept borrowing stationery from because it gave him an excuse to talk to you. The girl he was sure overlooked him for other members of his team.

You’d written him a love letter.

What should he do? What should he say? Should he say anything? You hadn’t actually given it to him yourself. Did that mean you didn’t want him to see it?

God, he felt like he needed to get up and pace. He sat up, slinging his legs over the side of his bed.

He couldn’t just ignore this. Not when you’d said all that. Not when he’d been paying just as much attention to you these past three years. But again, you hadn’t handed it to him yourself, and –

He clapped his cheeks in a poor attempt to ground himself.

No. He had to act on this.

And soon.

✧✧✧

"He's here."

"Huh?"

Yuri nodded at the door of the gym. You looked over your shoulder. Huh? Iwaizumi?

"Do you know why?" You asked, turning back to your best friend.

"No idea," Yuri shrugged. "Looks like he wants to talk to you, though."

You frowned, turning to look at him again. He gave you a tiny wave. It looked so bizarre coming from him. But, admittedly, it was kind of cute. "He better not be trying to kick us out of the gym," you mumbled, turning around and jogging towards him.

Iwaizumi took a step back as you closed in, putting a bit more distance between the two of you.

Rude, you thought. Even after I’ve written him a love letter and everything. Not that he knew that.

“How can I help you?” You sighed, trying to smile at him a little.

“Uh…” He was staring at his feet. That was unusual. He always made eye contact with you – and you knew, because you always had to make sure you weren’t intimidated by those striking eyes of his.

Was he… blushing a little?

What’s going on?

“Can I speak to you in private?” He sounded nervous. Why on earth –

Oh. Oh no.

You could feel your teammates staring at you. Not that they knew what had happened. But there were certainly whispers about you and Iwaizumi.

"Outside," you barked, pointing one stiff arm out the door. "Now."

Iwaizumi nodded, turning on his heels and marching away.

You scurried after him, your mind bubbling with a whole slew of anxieties. Were you about to get rejected? How did he even get his hands on that cursed letter in the first place? Couldn’t he have just ignored it?

You walked a short distance from the gym, tucked around the side. At the very least, he’d chosen a location that’d minimise the number of passers-by.

But it was also the side of the gym that faced the setting sun. Meaning that a warm glow was illuminating his aggravatingly handsome features in the most delightful way.

You felt like you were about to die.

You were about to be rejected by The Iwaizumi Haijime while he looked this beautiful—

“Here,” he mumbled, holding the letter out to you.

You frowned. You hadn’t seen him get it out. “Where did you get this?”

“One of the guys found it,” he shrugged.

Oh. Of course. You may as well start digging your own grave.

“Are you okay?” He asked, letting his arm drop to the side when you made no move to grab that cursed little McGuffin.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” you swallowed, hands gripping your shorts.

“Oh…”

“My friend, she—she thought that I should write about my feelings for you to get them out of my system, so—” Why were you telling him all this? This just made you feel worse?

“Oh,” he swallowed. “I see.”

A pause. A deeply painful pause.

“So you don’t feel like this anymore?”

Was that… disappointment on his face? Heartbreak? Something of a similar ilk?

Oh. Oh, letting yourself hope was a very bad idea. But you couldn’t help it.

You shook your head, your cheeks beginning to head up. “I… I definitely still feel all those things I put in the letter.” Truth be told, you couldn’t remember the details very well. God, you hoped they weren’t too embarrassing. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, let’s just… pretend it never happened.”

You tried to smile, but you didn’t know how convincing it was. It definitely wasn’t.

He smiled. God, he was so damn beautiful. You really were going to die.

You’d never seen him smile like this before, had you? That was a damned shame. At least it would be the last thing you saw before you—

“What if I don’t want to pretend this never happened, though?”

Wait, what? Had he really just said that?

“Why… why wouldn’t you?” Your heart was about to hammer its way through your ribcage, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

He finally looked you in the eyes. His own were so intense, so beautifully green. “Well, I-I was hoping I’d be able to take you out on a date.”

Oh shit. Did the great Iwaizumi Hajime just stutter?

Your face bloomed red. “I’d love that,” was the only thing you could choke out.

And God, his smile. The one you’d seen just a few minutes earlier was nothing compared to this. No, this smile was the last hit you could take.

Iwaizumi wondered if he should do something; hug you, hold your hand, kiss your cheek. But he didn’t know if he’d be able to keep it together if he did.

So, he just gave you some kind of nod-bow – something a little awkward yet earnest.

You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.

“So,” he rose back to full height, clearing his throat. “Friday, after practice?”

You tilted your head at him. “Won’t you be all sweaty, though?”

A new kind of smile touched his lips. Three flavours of Iwaizumi Hajime’s smile in one day. You truly were blessed.

“I thought you liked me like that.”

Oh shit. Oh fuck. You’d written that in the letter, hadn’t you?

You clamped your hands over your face. You couldn’t look at him anymore. Not today, at least.

Iwaizumi laughed gently. God, you were so cute. “Really, though. Is that time okay with you?”

You just nodded, hands still covering your face.

“I look forward to it,” he said. And he smiled, even though he knew you couldn’t see it.

He wanted to say something else. To compliment you, maybe. But he couldn’t think of what to say – there was too much, and he didn’t know how to phrase any of it.

And, he didn’t want to embarrass you. You looked one compliment away from an implosion.

“See you around,” he murmured. And with that, he walk-jogged back the way he came. He just hoped that his face wasn’t too red. The guys would never let him live that down.

You peeked through your fingers. Yep, he was definitely gone.

You keeled over, taking a deep breath. Did you really manage to make it through that in one piece? Without saying anything too embarrassing? Well, past the fact that your shitty love letter had ended up in his hands…

But that didn’t matter much. No, there was something much more important.

The Iwaizumi Hajime wanted to take you on a date. Did that mean he liked you, too? Well, he obviously liked you a little, since he’d asked, but…

Oh, this was so embarrassing. You really needed to get yourself together.

You had a date on Friday, after all.

✧✧✧

“Good job letting one of the second years find it,” Yuri murmured, peeking around the corner.

“Ah, well,” Hanamaki chuckled, “that’s how you make it look even more like an accident.”

Yuri looked over her shoulder at him. “Am I a bad person?”

Hanamaki shook his head. “Nah. They needed this push, y’know?”

“Yeah, but…” Yuri bit her lip. “You do realise they’re both perfectly capable of killing us, right? And that’s on their own. Imagine what their combined power looks like.”

“It’ll be fine,” Hanamaki grinned, waving a hand at her. “They’ll be too loved up to notice.”

Yuri frowned, staring off into the distance for a moment.

All’s well that ends well, I suppose, she thought. After all, both her and Hanamaki had worked far too hard to make this happen. At middling cost.

“You know, I had to stick my hand in the garbage for that letter.”

“You did what?”

#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime imagine #iwaizumi hajime scenario #hngngnn i hate tagging things #anyway this is so dumb sfkljfdlkj but that's why it's Fun #also will i ever learn how to come up with decent titles? survey says no

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

scrubs - 2.

pairing: doctor!sebastian stan x biomedical scientist!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death. if you are not comfortable with these warnings please dni.

< previous chapter

- Where are you going? - Miriam rose her head from the work bench as Y/N took her gloves and googles off, disposing of both in the yellow bin. - Y/N, where are you going? Don’t leave me alone with the trainees.

- I’m going to get dinner. No eating in the lab, remember?

- Urgh, couldn’t you have gone to dinner when Michael was here? You’re leaving me alone with the trainees ... and the ask so many questions. - she whispered the last part, afraid the trainees would hear her and hit her over the head with their very heavy portfolios. - I’m going next.

- Hour break, don’t you dare page me. - she pointed her finger menacingly at Miriam before clocking out and heading out for dinner. If they had told her during her sleepless nights spent revising for her least favourite modules the most exciting time of her shifts would be the bland food served by the hospital cafeteria, she would’ve just become a pharmaceutical researcher. Yet again, you need to start at the bottom if you want to get to the top and Y/N was more than ready to climb that moment.

She pressed the button for the lift, leaning against her own hand as she tried to wake herself up. Turns out studying and staying up all night applying for PhD projects and then coming to work at 7AM is not the way to go for energy. Luckily, the black tea she had drank this morning had managed to keep her awake, however the caffeine was starting to slowly leave her system and she still had a few more hours awaiting her. As she was about to fall asleep while waiting for the lift to make it to the lower floors, she heard her name being called out.

- Y/N? - she looked to her side to see Peter standing next to her. They’ve known each other since freshers and if there was someone who was always wide awake during twenty four hour shifts it was him. He worked currently in the clinical biochemistry laboratory, mostly coming over to visit Y/N whenever they were working on cardiac infection cases together. - I looked at the file you gave me. CRP is actually present but quite low, could be recovery phase from an infection. My guess with abdominal pain would be a UTI.

- You reckon it hit recovery phase by itself?

- Listen, some pharmacy assistant might’ve given him antibiotics. Who knows but I’d get a urine analysis, do some cultures and see how’s it going but from my point of view, it’s in recovery phase.

- You’re a superstar, Peter. - she hugged him just as the lift doors opened. - You’re going up?

- Yeah, it’s dinner time. I think they’re serving meatballs today. Exciting stuff. - the two stepped onto the lift. - Miriam said Dr. Stan came down today. You’re still giving him hell?

- I am not giving him hell. He’s just constantly sending samples either mislabelled or misplaced and he expects me to lecture his nursing staff about it.

- I don’t know, Y/N. Back at university you spent 2 hours arguing an answer with a lecturer, I just think you like arguing. - he chuckled as the doors opened onto the floor where the cafeteria was. - Or maybe you like arguing with Dr. Stan.

Before she could complain about the snide comment, Peter took to having a chat with a nurse he was particular sweet on leaving Y/N with her mouth open ready to argue and a finger pointed at him. She rolled her eyes, collecting herself as she released her hair from the ponytail which held it safely high up so her scalp could rest for a few hours before it had to go back up. Walking into the green lit cafeteria, the room was filled with half asleep medical staff digging through the bland food like mindless zombies. She did not blame them, she too sometimes would switch off her brain during breaks but lately all the free time she had was dedicated to applications after applications, despite the fact she kept getting rejections every single day.

The scientist grabbed a worn out plastic blue tray, getting a batch on weirdly shaped meatballs from the cafeteria lady as well as some odly too yellow noodles. Hey, it is food, her brain told her as she grabbed a diet Pepsi and a slice of apple pie which was the only eatable dessert around.

- Didn’t you owe me dinner?

- You almost made me drop my tray. - she gave the resident doctor a dirty look, gripping tighter onto the tray. - And I’ll be damned if I ever owe you dinner but I do have your blood culture results and we did sort out your weird infection case.

- It is not my infection case.

- Fine, your patient’s infection case. God heavens if any interns knew that you had an infection, that way they wouldn’t fawn over you. - she rolled her eyes at him, setting her tray in the first table she came over. He did the same, placing his tray right in front of hers before sitting in the metal chair with a cocky grin. - Go away, I’ll send over the report to your office.

- Have you not figured it out yet and trying to buy yourself more time? Or are you trying to escape the dinner date you set up with me?

- That might work on your interns but not on me, Stan. Besides, it is an infection.

- But there’s no worrying levels CRP besides, what about the abdominal pain? Surely CRP and white blood cells would be off the roof.

- Okay, since you probably missed Biochemistry in med school I will explain it to you. The CRP levels are high during initial phases and lower down during resolve. Your patient is probably on recovery phase already. Recovery means it is fixing itself. Do you need me to explain CRP to you?

- If you pulled that out with any other doctor, you would’ve gotten told off.

- Other doctors don’t ask me stupid questions. - she pointed her fork at him. - Dr. Mackie never sends the samples in the wrong vials.

- What about the blood cultures?

- Congratulations, Dr. Your patient is not septic. It’s most likely localised but I’d suggest ordering some X-rays if you wanna localise where it actually is. I wash my hands of your troubles. - she shrugged, wrapping her fork in the spaghetti laying on her plate. - Need anything else, Dr. Stan?

- I remember being promised a dinner date.

- You should get your ears checked, the only thing I promised you was data and you’re lucky I also gave you a data ana ... - the scientist was interrupted by her pager beeping loudly against her belt. She grumbled, looking down at her belt with a look that would scare anyone. - Duty calls.

- How convenient it went off now.

- Unlike you, Dr. Stan, I have a team to lead.

- Sounds complicated, Y/N. You sure you don’t need a babysitter?

She turned around as she was about to leave, raising his middle finger at him before rushing down the hall as her pager beeped uncontrollably. So much for not paging her during dinner time. Someone better be dying, she thought to herself as she slide her card into the door slot to get access. What she came in contact with was not what she was expecting from a laboratory of trained professionals. Miriam was holding one of the trainees head forward whose nose was bleeding all over her worktop bench.

- Miriam, what the fuck?

- Don’t look at me. Thomas ... - she squinted at the boy whose head she was holding forward. - Started bleeding when he smelled the knee aspiration.

- Oh no. - Y/N put some gloves on before walking over to the two. - Okay, Miriam call a code orange. I’ll take Thomas upstairs and get him sorted.

- It’s so stinky.

- I know. - Y/N handed them two cotton balls from the jar to her left. - Put them up your nose.

What would be a day in the laboratory if a newbie didn’t either faint or got nose bleeds from samples? Definitely not a day in her laboratory. She looked around the busy hospital grounds, trying to find any free, available nurses but they were all overworked. No wonder why, whenever midnight rolled around, people started coming in left and right from club brawls and the grounds were always a nightmare.

- What you got there, Miss Y/L/N? Is this how you lead your team?

- Fuck off, Stan. I do not have time to listen to your comments, I need to find a nurse.

- What happened, kid? - Sebastian looked to the 19 year old medical laboratory assistant holding cotton against his nose. - Lab that bad? Come on, I’ll fix you up.

- Thanks. - she mumbled, following the two men into one of the free areas. Thomas sat on the table while Sebastian pulled up a chair to sit in, Y/N remaining up on her feet.

- So kid, what happened? Y/N rough you up too much?

- He got a nosebleed from the smell of a knee fluid from an aspiration. - Y/N replied to him, much to Thomas delight who felt more than embarrassed about the situation he was in. - Is this what you’re doing now, Dr. Stan? Minor cases? Did the chief of medicine finally realised you’re unqualified?

- No. - he spoke as he pointed out his light at the trainees nose, to look for any specific damage. - One of my patient’s in critical care but it seems to have stabilised for now at least.

- Oh ... sorry. What happened to them?

- Sepsis. - he turned off the lights. - Listen kid, it’s nothing to bad. Just stay sat here and firmly pinch the soft part of your nose, just above your nostrils, for about 15 minutes. Don’t forget to lean forward and breathe through your mouth. Me or one of the nurses will come check on you after to see if it has improved but so far, so good.

- I’ll return to the lab. Page me when you’re ready to return, okay? - she gave the young starter a kind smile before pulling the curtains and letting him be. Unfortunately for her, Stan would not let her be. - Keep it.

- How weak are your staff? How are they gonna react to when they actually see infected body parts?

- I said keep it. - she crossed her arms, ready to leave and return to the laboratory until she remembered something. She turned around on her heel, passive aggressive smile on her lips as she leaned her head on her shoulder. - Also, Dr. Stan, the infected tissue samples you sent us had the wrong birthdate on them.

- C’mon Y/N.

- They’re on hold until you speak with the laboratory manager about them. Good luck.

He opened his mouth to fight with her but she had already gotten into the elevator. The rest of her shift was pretty uneventful with her and a few of her colleagues having to pick up the pace to get everything sorted before they left. Miriam and her fiance left first at 1AM leaving Y/N to count the minutes til 2 AM rolled around. Once the clock read 2AM, like a speeder, she was out of that laboratory and into the elevator before anyone could call her. Walking to her parking spot, the sky was dark, the lot light by harsh yellow barely brightening. As she walked over to the second handed baby blue Fiat 500, she noticed someone hunched over and sat on the top of a black new model Audi, smoke coming out from his cigarette. Normally, she would’ve just avoided it and gotten into her car to go home but the turquoise scrubs were much too familiar at this point.

- Dr. Stan? - her boots hit the gravel as she stood just a few meters away from him. - Do they not teach you in medical school that smoking increases the chance of lung cancer?

- Not now, Y/N. - no sarcastic remark? That was a new one. He threw the cigarette butt onto the ground once it was all over, feet rubbing it against the gravel. - Not now.

- I thought your shift finished at 1:30? Pulling overtime hours? Someone needed your assistance? Death time?

- My septic patient died. - she immediately wished she hadn’t said anything. Death was not something she particularly dealt with. Surely, some results were awful, specially in cases of ultra resistant bacteria showing up in the blood but that’s what they were, results. She didn’t see the patient, in all honesty all she would know the patient would be by a barcode number. - Sepsis quickly lead to organ failure. I don’t understand ... she was getting better.

- Sepsis is unpredictable. You did the best you could do.

- And you’d know? All you do is be in the laboratory and do tests. What would you know about it?

- Okay ... - she put her hands on her hips. - Are you on any antibiotics, prescription pain killers, sedative drugs, statins or any antidepressants?

- I don’t see the point.

- The bar nearby has a discount for hospital staff. It’s only a five minute walk and everyone else is so miserable, you don’t feel bad about being miserable.

- I’m not going to the bar in my scrubs, Y/N.

- If you’re okay wearing those ... - she pointed at his scrubs. - Then you are okay wearing them at the bar.

She was right, the bar did look miserable. Not in a miserable way which would require regulation to shut down the place but miserable in a way one would just be at home wallowing in their pity with a pint of beer and right now that was all he needed. He sat in a sticky red booth, in front of her with a pint of beer while she picked a cocktail from the menu.

- You don’t seem like the type of girl who’d come here.

- And I’m not but they sell really cheap burgers at lunchtime. - she put her hand under her chin. - Besides, I’ve done this before.

- When did you convince someone to come to the bar because their patient flat lined?

- You know Dr. Liam Watts?

- Surgery residency? I’ve heard about him before. - her lips tensed in a straight line as she leaned her head on her shoulder. - No. You’ve been here with Bucktooth Watts before?

- Yeah... even after he clearly needed support after he couldn’t save his first patient, he still decided to take me on a date here.

- I’m sorry, you dated Bucktooth Watts? - he chuckled, downing whatever was left of his pint, signalling the bartender to bring him another one.

- This is why we don’t hang out. He’s not bucktoothed.

- Sure, sure. I see the appeal, I mean over Christmas at least you have someone to cut the carrots.

The night went onwards with a bunch of maybe irresponsible drinking. Y/N was two mojitos in and she was already tipsy and giggling like a school girl, not really used to drinking. Sebastian was in the same state as her, trying not to laugh at everything as they stepped outside to grab a taxi. At least both of them were conscious enough to decide not to drive.

- No, you did not get locked in the vroom cupboard during your residency. - she held her belly as she laughed.

- I did and my senior doctor did not notice I was gone. I was stuck there for 5 hours.

- Oh god. - she held herself against the wall. - I always knew you were a clutz. You know, you’re the only doctor who hasn’t told off his nurses about the blood bottles.

- Can I tell you a secret? - he whispered mid laughter. - I am afraid of them.

- Oh my god. - she held her hand on his shoulder covering her mouth with the other one. - See, this is why I constantly argue with you. You’re soft, doctor.

- Arguing with you is the best part of my day. You look really hot when you’re telling me off.

- You look terrible when I tell you off. - the two of them stopped laughing, looking into each other eyes for the first time since they’d been out of the laboratory. Maybe it was the alcohol but at that moment, the best idea to the two of them was to lean towards each other, his hands grasping each side of her waist as they connected the space between them, getting together into a hot long kiss.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan doctor au #doctor!sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine

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fluffywing-e-tarot · 3 years

Text

Be an Esteemed Lady while out shopping for the day

Of course, Grain would be the one to draw the short straw on this Hermit challenge. He suspected it was Iskall who wrote it for Stress, However, Stress didn't want to swap challenges and thus Grian had to go to the shopping district in the only feminine outfit that he had being Arianna Grande. The worst part being that Grian was planning on restocking the Barge soon.

So Grian took to the sky in his Popstar outfit. Elytra on his back he flew across the sea to get to the shopping district. He spotted Stress waiting at the Barge. A misgevious smirk on her face.

"Well aren't you looking beautiful." she greeted. "I thought you would need some help in dressing up. Apparently, you can look Lady enough."

"Thanks," Grian said. "It was the only outfit I had."

"Oh, I didn't mean it as a compliment." Stress said her polite deminer missing from her." Your makeup is horrendous."

Grian really wanted to snap back at Stress, but then he remembered that Mumbo had bet Iskall twenty diamonds, That Grian could complete the Challenge. Who was he to denied Mumbo out of Diamonds? Grian took a deep breath, He was an esteemed lady. He was an esteemed Lady, and Esteemed Lady's do not snap at their Friends for insulting their makeup job.

"Beloved Stress, if I have indeed insulted my own visage then will you help me correct it," Grian said in a polite, gentle, manner.

Stress looked stunned. Her mischievous smirk faltering. "Uh yeah, just give me a moment. I have some things at my shop." she rocketed off to her store.

This gave Grian the time he needed to restock the chests in the Barge with everything his patrons needed from his shop. Grian heard the woosh of an Elytra glide and spotted Tango swooping into his shop. Grian sent out a text in chat say that the Barge was restocked

"Hay Grian." Tango greeted and went straight for the Sand. but stopped while opening the chest Tango closed the chest a moment later and turned around.

"Sorry, I thought you were Grain, Ma'am," Tango said. "My mistake."

He returned to buying Grains sand. He left with a Shulker box filled with sand. "That was weird," Grian thought Grian didn't want Stress to go chasing after him, as head a handful of Items to buy from the shopping disticet the main thing being the Dark prismarien that had been restocked. So he pulled out a Starcae to have the relative decence of looking dignified while waiting.

"Sorry 'bout that wait." Stress pulled out a shulker box and began to shift though it. She was pulling out brushes and a wide aray of color.

"We'll need to wash off your application before we begin." Stress led out a rag and potion bottle.

"Okay." Grian dabbed some of the potions onto the rag, at least that's what he assumed what Stress wanted, and started to remove the bright cherry pink and blush.

Ah there we go a clean face to work with." Stress said, " now close your eyes Grian we are going to make a Gina out of you."

" The outfit is actual Arianna Grande" Grian informed. " I used it to promote Sahara.

"Well, the wig is quite good quality." Stress said he felt some sort of cream be applied on his face. " I'm assuming you got it from the Hub world."

"The best place to shop for the costumes." Grian said

"Now tell me Arianna what brings you to the Shopping district?" stress asked.

"Dark Prismarin for mansion among other things," Grian said he felt different brushes on his face. and pencil on his eyes. Grian opened his eyes. as Stress applied the mascara Grian chatted about what could be improved upon in his builds

"Are we done?" Grian asked.

"Yes and you look much more beautiful," Stress said. "Go knock them dead Arianna" Stress's encouragement was worrying for grain's mental health. Grian was basically taking the actions of a Woman seriously.

"I have much to do Ms. Monster. Thank you for the assistance." Grian said.

"See you around " Stress called as she was putting away her makeup supplies.

Grian decides walking was the best option. Grian's preferred elytra positions and posture were not feminine. and he felt like everyone would be looking at his skirt.

"Grian!" Mumbo shouted gliding towards him. Grian looked at his close Redstoner friend. Mumbo looked ready to say something but a whimpering sound came from his thought. Mumbo was just staring at Grian for a solid minute.

"Yes Mumbo?" Grian asked

Mumbo cleared his thought. "Lady Grian may I have the honor of escorting you through the shopping center."

"No," Grian said, " I am perfectly content with my shopping experience."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later," Mumbo said and shot rockets off and flew away.

Grain was just about to arrive at the shop when a zip of rockets. when another familiar face greeted him.

~O~

Scar walked through his project thinking of the lady that he met in the shopping district a week back. She was silent for his entire tour of the shopping district. But he noticed that she purchased a couple of items from some of the shops. She must have been a rare invite of a family member that Xuma allows on the survey.

"Hi Scar!" Grian chirped dropping down in front of him.

"Oh! Goodness!" Scar exclaimed. Jumping off the ground.

"wow, you must be quite distracted. You haven't replied to any of my messages" Grian said, " You know about the lot in Aque town."

"What messages?" Scar asked pulling out his communicator. and saw the there were a lot of messages he Missed. A load of server chat and also whispers and Personal Messages. "Oh, those messages."

"Seeing as something was distracting the mayor from his mayoral duties. What were you thinking about?" Grian asked. Scar sighed.

"A girl." Scar said.

Scar noticed that Grian was Curious. Would probably hound him for more information. So he spoke before Grian could.

" I met her a few weeks ago, she was quiet and polite. She looked new to the surver. I had seen her in an add back in season six." Scar explained "She's not from the surver, at least I don't think she is."

Grian smiled " You sound like your in love."

Scar blushed "Nothing of the Sort!"

"What's her name?" Grain asked the shorter man was bouncing on his toes.

"I think her Name was Arianna Grande."

Grian stoped bouncing. "Sorry what?"

"Her name was Arrianna Grande."

Grian grabbed onto Scar's shoulders. Grian's face was very red. "You said you have been distracted by Arrianna Grande."

"Yes?" Scar answered

Grian's face turned even reder. "You're crushing on a persona I made for the Express purpose of promoting Mumbo. And Haven't realised that It was just me in a wig and skirt."

Scar listeded to what Grian was saying. However at the same time none of it made sense. Grian was gone by the time that the words clicked and Scar's face was red in Embaresment.

Scar both Wanted to express his Mistake but also burry it in his mind never to see the light of day again. He needed to express it. Scar decided that Bdubs was the best option.

Scar decide a drink of a stong beverage was in order. There was none on the surver (a rule for the safety of the Builders.) so they had to head to the main hub for this conversation. This was absolutely a metel misunderstanding. Scar hoped that Grian would forgive him.

#Grian #hermicraft #hermitcaft 7 #fictional hermit challenges #mumbo jumbo #stressmonster101 #gtwscar

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miraculouslycool · 3 years

Text

across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise

Summary: Once Hawkmoth is defeated, Ladybug rushes back to find her partner, to confess her love for him once and for all now that nothing was standing in their way. However, Chat Noir, one of the two halves of Paris' superhero team had vanished into thin air, nowhere to be found despite the sleepless nights of his lady combing an entire city to find him.Two months later, Ladybug meets Adrien in front of his mother's grave for the first time, and apologizes to him for ruining his life at the expense of her duty to Paris.

Note: this is an AU taking place after Hawkmoth was defeated where Adrien was homeschooled and therefore never met Marinette or Nino or any of his classmates, but was Chat Noir and only knew Ladybug as her superhero self.

Read in AO3:

Chapter 1:

Growing up, Adrien Agreste had gotten accustomed to silence. The silence in his lonely bedroom; the quiet, stern face Nathalie would put on while reviewing his work, the silence on his part that would follow a direct order he would inevitably obey.

The glare on his father wore when he slipped up in his fencing classes, or when he dared to ask what actually became of his mother spoke a lot more eloquently than any of his curt orders ever could.

And then one day, his life was surrounded by noise. One day, in return for his first and last attempt at going to public school, a chaotic kwami named Plagg flew out of a ring on his table, and his life had never been the same since. Plagg was the complete antithesis of his controlled life. He was chaotic, marked his territory wherever he went with cheese, and yowled and grumbled for it 10 times a day, but Adrien had never been happier. He had been given a responsibility to protect his city from a maniac who sent monsters every day to destroy it and to get his ring, and though he took it very very seriously, Plagg wasn’t just his friend, he was also his gateway to the outside world, and to Ladybug. In his head, Paris was a priority, but in his heart...Ladybug was.

Who he had desperately loved for the past 5 years.

Who he hadn’t really seen or talked to for the past 2 months.

Turns out finding that he lived with the maniac sending monsters every week to destroy him and his partner can change everything.

“Are we there yet?” Plagg bemoaned in his coat pocket. “How far away is it? You shouldn't let your bodyguard take the car with him.”

Despite his gloomy mood, Adrien smiled to himself. “You know I like to walk. And besides, I let you eat three wheels of cheese this morning, now that we’re on our own you can’t be eating every single minute like you used to.”

Plagg let out a grumpy snort, but didn’t say much after that.

Adrien gripped the white roses in his hand as he greeted the older security guard in the graveyard’s entrance, who tipped his hat and gave him a sympathetic smile in return.

Sympathy. That was all people seemed to spare for him these days.

Not that he was complaining, sympathy was what had gotten his Aunt Amelie to take over the Gabriel brand from London, and not leave several people’s livelihoods under his responsibility. Sympathy was when his cousin, who he generally knew to be someone who kept to himself, gave him a rare hug.

Sympathy was what he got when an entire city looked at him and saw a victim, and not a perpetrator in association with his father and Nathalie. Sympathy was what Officer Roger offered in the form of a cup of tea when he stormed out of his father’s prison that day.

Companionship was far and in between. Chloe visited him every week, left him with several applications for universities and a demand to look into them at least. Plagg was always there, no matter what, through the sleepless nights and lonely meals.

But they weren’t her.

He stopped when he saw his mother’s gravestone, the usual lump in his throat thickening. He had no one to blame but himself. Chat Noir was the one who walked away after seeing Gabriel Agreste carted away to prison by the authorities. Chat Noir was the one who ghosted Ladybug. And Chat Noir was the one who read Ladyblog updates about Ladybug’s solo, yet superficially useless patrols every single day and did nothing to fix it.

He had no right to complain about missing Ladybug when that was his doing.

Not that she’d be better off with him around.

“Hey again, mom.” Adrien managed to say as he placed the bouquet on his mother’s grave. “I-I know I said I wouldn’t be able to visit this week.” he stuttered stupidly, like a block of stone could resent him for interloping. “But yeah, I didn’t have much to do today so….” he trailed off, squatting in front of the gravestone. “Chloe dropped off a therapist’s number.” he managed to chuckle. “Pretty rich of her, don’t you think? She hates the very idea of therapy and doesn’t want to admit that she needs it too. She’s the most caring hypocrite ever.”

He couldn’t really find anything else to say. Which was even dumber, it wasn’t like there was anyone here who would get up and say that he was wasting away his life instead of getting it together.

He sat down on the grass, and twiddled with his thumbs for a while. Plagg, for his benefit, stayed hidden in his coat, letting out soft purrs every once in a while. He didn’t know what was worse: slowly coming to terms with the fact that his mother was dead, then finding out that she was in a coma and losing her all over again, or never really being able to understand why she had died, because his father was still being an asshole and refusing to answer him.

“You wouldn’t understand, Adrien.”

“If you didn’t understand why I became Hawkmoth, you’ll never be able to understand why your mother became sick.”

He realised then and there that his father would never know that he had spent the better part of his teenage years fighting against him. He didn’t deserve to know. Adrien didn’t want him to know, not someone as stubborn and…evil like him. He had practiced saying that word to describe his father after Plagg suggested it. It was like a bandaid for his bullet wounds for a while.

He started a little when he heard a familiar ‘whip’ behind him.

He’d know that sound anywhere. It was Ladybug’s yo-yo.

It couldn’t possibly be. He was just missing her so much it was starting to get to his head. Yeah. That was a reasonable explanation.

“H-hello.”

Adrien yelped as he stood up and spun around.

It was her.

Ladybug, his partner, his other half, was standing there, her hands raised up in peace.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you!” She stammered.

“It’s okay.” Adrien managed to squeak out. This was the first time he was seeing her in 8 weeks.

His heart thumped heavily as he got ready to fold into himself in guilt at leaving her high and dry. Imagine his surprise when he found out that she was doing the same.

“I can leave if you want me to.” She said in a small voice, and that reminded him that he wasn’t suited up as Chat Noir at the moment. “I don’t want to impose, I didn’t realise you were in the middle of-” she gulped audibly, then bowed and took out her yoyo. “Never mind, please forgive me, I’ll get going now-”

“Wait!” Adrien cut her off before she left and deprived him of his chance to see her again.

Ladybug stiffened and did as he said. His tongue felt dry as he gave the love of his life a once over. The voice that came out of her mouth was indeed hers, but it certainly didn’t sound anything like her. He had heard her loudly denounce his jokes and his attempts at flirting, he had heard her talk gently and kindly to confused akuma victims, he had seen her doubt herself and worry if they were going to make it. This was none of those instances.

“May I ask what you are doing here?” He remembered to sound polite somehow. He was Adrien Agreste now, the son of her worst enemy, not her partner Chat Noir, who had abandoned her.

He remembered with a painful pang how he used to tease her about her height, but she couldn’t have looked any smaller than she did then. Her eyes held fear, like she was expecting him to lash out at her.

“I...I was just in the neighbourhood.” she said. “And I saw you here, and I was hoping to talk to you- have been hoping to talk to you for a while now - not that I was stalking you!”

Something warm in Adrien’s chest bloomed, but it wasn’t enough to make him crack a smile. “No, it’s alright. I understand what you meant. What can I do for you, Ladybug?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Was she going to ask him for an update on the status of his father? His heart sank. Ladybug was never a malicious person, but he supposed she was practical enough to do this.

“Do you want to know about any suspicious activity from my father?”

Ladybug’s eyes went round as saucers. “No! No, not at all! I didn’t- I would never- I mean, I wanted to- I came here to apologize?” she finished off awkwardly.

“Apologize?” Adrien echoed.

She nodded mutely. “I know that this will never make up for what happened, but -” she fisted her palms and exhaled. “I am so sorry Adrien. What happened to you, what he did to you - I can’t imagine what it is like to be in your situation right now and I have been kicking myself every day for being the one to put you in this position. I wanted to come and see you at your mother’s funeral, have been wanting to do it for a while actually but...with everything that was going on I didn’t think you’d really want to see the girl who put your father behind bars right?” she awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of her neck.

Adrien blinked in confusion.

She was blaming herself for defeating Hawkmoth?

Why should she?

‘A-anyway! I just wanted to tell you that, and if you need any help with anything you need, please, just give the Ladyblog a buzz and I’ll be right there! If you want to. No pressure. If you want me to steer clear of you I can understand that too. The last thing I want to do is offend you-”

“Ladybug.” he interrupted her gently. “It’s okay.”

She blinked right back at him.

“I do not blame you for that. At all.” He crossed his arms as he gave her a reassuring smile. It was very much like her to go out and take responsibility if she felt like she did something wrong. Doesn’t mean he’d actually let her do it. “My father...he was a terrible man. He put several people’s lives in danger and kept on doing it for years, and you are the reason this city isn’t burning to the ground right now. You should be really proud.” he said sincerely. “Paris owes everything to you. You don’t have to feel bad for doing the right thing.”

Ladybug’s shoulders slumped, even though her expression looked less pained now. “You can still be angry with me, you know.”

“I’m not.” he insisted. “Believe me, I’m not. Thank you for coming here to talk to me though.” he twisted his ring nervously. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Ladybug nodded, giving him a small smile. “Will you let me know if you need anything? I’d be happy to help.”

‘What if I told you that I needed you?’ he thought helplessly.

Adrien nodded, without saying anything.

“Have a good day, Adrien.” Ladybug said with a shy wave, before pulling out her yo yo and swinging away.

Adrien walked up to the nearest bench and collapsed into a heap.

“Sooooooo.” Plagg popped out of his collar. “When are you going to tell her?”

“Shut up.”

#my fics #ladrien #ladybug x adrien #angst #hurt/comfort #post hawkmoth

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Callisto (Part Seven - Investigation)

Here we are again with the next three thousand odd words of this fic.

Many thanks as always to @vegetacide @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 @janetm74 and my wonderful science officer @onereyofstarlight (who spent yet more time tackling my odd questions in the last week :D). You guys are amazing and I can’t thank you enough for all your amazing readthroughs and support.

You guys totally spoilt me last week so I hope this week delivers some entertainment. ::hugs you all so much:: Thank you so much for your amazing support.

Warnings: minor whump, far too much indulgence in scenery on my part because I’m having too much fun.

I hope you enjoy this.

-o-o-o-

Alan was sent back with Gordon and one of the dragonflies, while Virgil and Scott scouted back along the tunnel for a high enough point that either a molepod or Thunderbird Three could drill down deep enough to give them easy access for Thunderbird Four.

They found it in one of the larger caverns about a kilometre back from the Crystal Cave as they had come to call it.

Having seen so much crystal in one spot, Virgil now found himself spotting more and more of it along the tunnels. On first glance he had assumed most of the sparkles in the walls were patches of ice – there was certainly enough of the stuff around to cater to the concept. But on closer examination, there were crystals of all sizes and colours dotted along their return path.

In the dry cavern there were even more. Not anywhere near as many as in the crystal cave, but enough that Virgil pulled over, climbed out and collected a couple of specimens for later examination. John definitely wanted in on that analysis. He was still hunting for the source of the interference and was at this point reaching for every straw he could grab.

But first they had lives to save.

The roof of the Dry Cavern, as it was dubbed for convenience’s sake, had a number of large crystalline formations and there was a plea from the Base’s scientific staff to avoid as much damage as possible.

As if Virgil needed that reminder. He wasn’t one for blatant destruction of anything, but in this case as he planted the homing beacon for Three, he realised they were going to lose at least one beautiful structure in the process. So, it was with some sadness, he flipped the dragonfly and attached it to the rock ceiling of Dry Cavern and attempted to uproot a crystal tree as tall and as wide as himself to take back to the base.

With the application of a laser cutter, it came away surprisingly easily and with minimal damage. The dragonfly’s two front claws held it as delicately as they could. Carefully flipping the pod back upright, Virgil lowered it down to land and clambered out to secure the crystal.

Halfway out of the pod his vision doubled and he slipped.

Callisto’s gravity was almost nothing in comparison to Earth’s but the laws of physics still held strong and without atmospheric density to slow him down in any way, his momentum threw him at the rocky floor with enough force to cause him to bounce with a painful squawk. Previously obtained bruises complained and his head throbbed enough to turn his stomach over.

He ended up on the ground, on his side, doing his best not to puke all over the inside of his helmet, his only thought being how bad things would be if he failed.

“Virgil!” Scott was suddenly beside him, hand on his arm and the ever so familiar worry in his eyes.

Virgil swallowed and attempted to keep his stomach under control while his head screamed at him.

God.

But as before, it dissipated suddenly and Virgil was left panting and wondering what the hell was going on.

What the hell had the T- Drive done to him?

“Talk to me, Virgil. What happened?”

“Was dizzy for a second. Sorry.” He waved Scott’s hand away and sat up slowly. Everything stayed stable and sane.

God, he was tired. “I’m good. Just need some rack time.”

Scott glared at him. “I’ve seen you tired. You’ve never fallen off a pod before.”

“It’s the gravity, or the lack of it. It’s throwing me off.” He pushed himself to his feet.

But he knew what was coming next.

“I’m flying. Get in the back.”

“Scott-“

“Now.”

Virgil growled at him. “I’m going to secure the crystals first. We need to get these back to base in one piece.” And he did, Scott at his elbow the entire time. The man knew how to hover.

Once that was complete, Scott marched him to the backseat and made sure he climbed in safely…like he was a little kid or something.

Damnit.

But the moment he let himself relax, his whole body made it very clear that rest was a good thing. Scott’s flying skills kept the dragonfly consistently level and despite himself, Virgil dozed in and out a good percentage of the way back to base.

Despite the headache.

Of course, all of it resulted in a blowout with both Scott and his father.

“I’m fine!”

“You fell!”

“I slipped. It happens you know. I’ve rested. I’m fine. Now can we get moving? I need to be out there to assist with Four.”

Scott opened his mouth to no doubt confine him to the base with their father and Uncle Lee.

“Virgil, you will undergo an examination by the Base medics before you do anything.” Dad’s voice held that strength of command that Scott had so inherited.

He opened his mouth to rebut.

“Now, Virgil, or I will send Lee out in your stead. You don’t mess around out here. You know that.”

Virgil flicked his glance to the engineer his father had relied on for years, who had actually worked with International Rescue early on.

Goddamnit!

“Fine! But there is nothing wrong with me.”

“Then prove it.” Scott was glaring at him, blue eyes on fire and standing strong beside their father.

Well, at least they were working together, even if it was a combined front against him.

Three had already left, so they had to rely on a Base medic. Fortunately, she agreed with Virgil. Tension headache, the voyage out there and lack of sleep was all they could come up with and since he had snoozed in the pod and his skill set was seriously needed, Scott grudgingly gave him clearance.

Virgil so did not have time for this.

-o-o-o-

Alan slipped into Three’s pilot seat with a sigh. There was something about his ‘bird that was just comforting. Familiarity, probably, but also the knowledge that he had the power to get home under his very fingertips. Pods were great and all, but Alan preferred the power of ion engines and the strength of his ‘bird’s hull.

Gordon in the co-pilot’s seat wasn’t the norm, however.

“Okay, let’s get this ‘bird off the ground.”

Alan glared at him, but poked his comms. “Callisto Base, requesting departure for local foray as filed.”

“Thunderbird Three, you have clearance. Safe journey.”

Journey? He wouldn’t call it a journey. More a nick out the back door to grab takeout, if anything.

Great, now he was hungry for pizza and the nearest pizza joint was a bazillion miles away.

So gonna have a pizza night when they got home.

“FAB, Callisto Base.”

The airlock doors above began their ponderous opening sequence like something directly out of an old sci-fi flick. All that was missing was the cinematic music.

Firing Three’s engines was like breathing again after being stifled for a long time. She lifted, rising slowly into the airlock, her length proof that everything the Base owned was smaller. He only had a handful of metres to play with at either end and he was pretty sure he was scorching their inner door.

Nonetheless, they waited and the outer doors slid open revealing Jupiter once again in all her glory.

Alan eased her out slowly making sure she was fully in the clear before tilting her towards the north and, with a twitch of a thruster, throwing her across the jagged landscape.

The moon surface was craters on craters on craters. The Asgard formation rippled outwards in all directions creating rings of hills, stark greys and silvers against the deep of the black sky. Burr Crater was a splash of bright reflected sunlight glaring enough for the filters on the windows to react and protect their eyesight.

Alan brought up the holoprojection showing exactly where Virgil wanted him to drill.

Another flick of a wrist and Three pivoted on her nose, extended her arms, and settled gently onto the surface of the moon.

“Thunderbird One, Thunderbird Three is in position.”

Comms crackled and Alan frowned.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

State the obvious, Gordon. “Thunderbird One, do you read?”

“We hear you, Thunderbird Three. Dragonfly Pod Two en route to rendezvous.” Scott’s voice cut out and Virgil’s took over. “Gordon, deploy Thunderbird Four. Crane her to the surface. Alan we will need to assemble a large gauge molepod complete with vacuum extraction, as we discussed. We’re about fifteen minutes out.”

“FAB, Dragonfly Two.” The line cut out and Alan turned to his co-pilot. “Okay, Gords, your turn.”

His brother’s face split into a grin. “See you in the sky.”

Alan groaned. “Never gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

“Nope, no time soon. Thunderbird Four is going to fly. No more being dragged around by her sisters. Gonna get her some VTOL.”

Alan clambered out of his seat and half floated, half fell to the back of the cabin. Partial gravity was always odd. “Hoverjets, Gords.”

“Tomayto, tomato, squirt. My ‘bird is gonna fly.”

“In micro-gravity.”

“I’m taking what I can get.”

Alan rolled his eyes. Insufferable.

What followed was Three craning out Four through the cargo bay doors and gently lowering her to the icy surface of the moon.

This time, instead of sleds, Brains had attached hoverjets to the body of Gordon’s submarine. Personally, Alan thought she looked like she had a really bad case of acne, her usually smooth lines interrupted by pustules that spat blue ‘fire’.

Gordon apparently couldn’t stop grinning.

Of course, that all changed once Scott and Virgil arrived on scene. Virgil was unusually curt and Scott was hovering just enough to alert Alan that something wasn’t right.

A quick check with John revealed that Virgil wasn’t feeling well and that Scott wanted him off the mission, but Virgil refused.

That just set Alan off. It was always worrisome when an older brother wasn’t right, and considering all his brothers were older, it happened far more often than Alan liked.

So it was with worried eyes that Alan watched Virgil and Scott deploy the molepod.

The plan was for Three to dig down as far as she could - which was a decent distance, if Alan could say so himself, and then lower the extra-large molepod into the hole so Virgil could complete the tunnel to break through into the cave network below.

They were far enough away from the Crystal Cave, as it was now called, to hopefully leave it unaffected by all these excavations.

Gordon was to follow them in Hoversub Number Four - apparently his fish brother was still working on the new name - navigate to the Cave and revert to Four’s original purpose of being a submarine.

Three’s drill was an oddity for a space craft, but an oddity that had saved Alan’s bacon so many times.

The thought immediately prompted hunger pangs. Bacon.

Maybe he should shove a snack down his throat.

“Alan, start drilling.” Virgil’s sharp voice on comms snapped him out of it.

If Three deployed her drill rather abruptly at that, Alan felt he wasn’t to blame.

Fortunately, she performed with her usual ease and brilliance, creating a massive hole in the side of the moon and a cloud of debris to match, rock and ice thrown up in glittering haze.

God, space was beautiful sometimes.

Once Three had gone as deep as she could, Alan shifted her to one side and acted as a crane to lower Virgil and Scott in the molepod down into the newly created tunnel.

A suspended moment and the billowing dust resumed.

“Hey, Gords, is Virgil okay?” He couldn’t help it. He was worried.

“He’s okay, Allie. Just some leftovers from the ride out here.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Don’t mention it. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Sorry.” It was raining glitter in slow motion.

“How you didn’t notice, I have no idea.”

Gordon was in Four and Alan in Three, but Alan shrugged anyway. “Dunno?” But he was distracted by the holographic image of his two eldest brothers gnawing through rock far below. Almost there. Thank goodness, Three’s grapple was almost at its full extent.

“Thunderbird Three, get ready to reel us in.” Scott’s voice was tight.

Far below the mole broke through into the cavern and began to fall in the ponderous gravity. Alan yanked a lever and pulled the cable tight, catching the pod in a pendulous dangle. “Gotcha.”

“Hold it, Thunderbird Three.” Virgil’s voice was even tighter than Scott’s and Alan wondered if the pod swinging was messing with him. A moment. “Okay, retract slightly.”

Alan did so and the pendulum slowed and eventually his brother gave the go ahead to fully haul them out of that hole.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was beginning to wonder if there was something seriously wrong with him. Digging the hole had been simple, but the moment they burst through into the cavern, his stomach tried to invert itself. It had taken everything he had to keep his insides on the inside.

But then it disappeared again! Leaving the goddamned headache that just refused to go away and was currently pounding through his head to the tune of his heartbeat.

Maybe Scott was right. Maybe there was something seriously wrong.

But he had a job to do.

Thunderbird Four was literally bouncing on the spot by the time the Mole resurfaced dangling from Three’s grapple. Virgil had piloted the pod simply because it was his speciality. Scott had accompanied him because he was worried, but he let him drive.

Such was not the case with the Dragonfly. Virgil was clearly demoted via a pair of determined eyes and exiled to the backseat.

Fine.

It gave him a chance to examine the sensor readings of the rock they had burrowed through on the way down. It was a thoroughly fascinating combination of ice and minerals, silicon in particular.

Thunderbird Four lifted smoothly off the glistening moon surface and with a very unprofessional ‘Yahoo’ slid into the entrance of their new tunnel and disappeared.

Scott was only a second behind.

Four bounced like a rubber ball off the walls, darting around the corners so nimble, Scott had to ask their fish brother to damn well slow down.

Which was just as well, because before they knew it, both Four and the Dragonfly emerged into the cavern, Four in ponderous freefall until the hoverjets could catch on the floor.

“That was awesome! Can I keep the jets, Virg? Please?” An Olympic gold medal, a WASP career and vast experience as an IR operative, and Gordon was still a kid at the candy store begging for his favourite lolly.

“Not important right now, Thunderbird Four.” Commander Tracy’s tone was sharp.

“Just asking!” But below them the bright yellow submarine had obviously latched onto the comms beacon and was moving towards the tunnel leading to the Crystal Cave.

Scott followed as closely as practical and it wasn’t long before both Four and the Dragonfly were sitting on the beach staring at the lake.

Scott and Virgil climbed out of the pod, its lights streaking twin beams across the water and lighting up the crystal walls and glass lake. Gordon hovered at the edge.

“You okay, Thunderbird Four?” Virgil was frowning.

“Pretty fine and dandy, if I may say so myself. Gonna go hover myself out into the depths I think.” His tone while flippant, was distracted. “Scans are reading a hell of a lot of that quartz and I’d rather not test Four’s hull unless I absolutely have to.” There was a grunt. “As it is, that water isn’t just water. I’m going to be cleaning my girl for week after this. It’s mineral soup.”

“Is it a concern? Did you want to abort?” Scott was predictably concerned.

“No, no. She can handle it. I may just need to rope a bro or two into maintenance.” There was a snort that no doubt would be accompanying a grin.

Virg was tired and there were people needing rescue. “Move your ass, Gordon.”

That earned him another worried set of blue eyes. But Virgil was over it and just needed to get this job done.

“FAB, Thunderbird Two.” Four started moving forward, her jets rippling the glass of the water.

Gordon hovered a fair distance out into the middle of the lake before gradually shutting down the hoverjets, letting the sub dip below the surface.

A single breath and she was gone, only circles on circles of steadily spreading ripples remained.

It was damned eerie.

Scott looked like he wanted to climb into the water after their brother.

“Wow, guys, it is amazing down here.” Typical Gordon.

Virgil would have loved to rub his temples.

“Sending visuals to Five. Johnny, you receiving?”

“Affirmative, Thunderbird Four, though I am encountering some interference. Eos, can you clear that up?”

“Guys, I’m getting some temperature variances down here.”

Scott shifted where he stood, his space suit flexing over taught muscles. “Clarify, Thunderbird Four.”

“It’s getting hotter. Not by much, but a definite increase in temperature as I go deeper.” A thoughtful mutter. “This is deeper than it appears, Scott. Readings are fluctuating. What was a hundred metres is now closer to six hundred. Damn, there’s another temperature spike!”

“Thunderbird Four, interference is increasing.” John’s voice crackled as if for emphasis. “We can’t clear it.”

Scott flicked on his wrist display, the two lifesigns pulsing under the icon of Thunderbird Four. “Do you see anything, Gordon? Any sign of what we are facing?”

Gordon muttered something that was drenched in static. “Crystal…temp..ture…rising…” The signal ended in a hiss of static that hurt Virgil’s ears.

Scott’s voice was decision sharp. “Thunderbird Four, abort mission. Return to shore.”

“Sc-“ But the signal cut out completely.

Shit!

The rock under Virgil’s feet trembled. What the-?

Ripples vibrated across the lake.

“Gordon, do you read?!”

“Thunderbird One!” John’s voice had an edge of alarm. “Registering seismic movement in your vicinity!”

“Gordon!”

“Guys! Get out of there! Now!”

“Gordon!”

Virgil grabbed Scott as a shadow grew out of the darkness and into the twin beams of light.

Oh, hell!

“Scott! Move!”

The lake had swelled into a wave, a crest rushing at the shore they were standing on.

Virgil grabbed his brother, turned and ran for the pod.

His fingertips brushed cahelium as the wave hit. Virgil was lifted off his feet, Scott was torn from his grip and he was tumbling.

A sharp pain.

And…

Nothing.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Alan Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #callisto

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that-shamrock-vibe · 3 years

Text

WandaVision: Dissecting the MCU’s Most Successful Superhero Couple

Disclaimer: I am only using the term WandaVision as the coupling name for Scarlet Witch and Vision. I am not centring this discussion on the upcoming Disney+ series but rather talking about the 6 year build up to it.

Introduction:

Despite the fact the likes of Hank Pym’s Ant-Man & Janet van Dyne’s Wasp along with Mister Fantastic and Invisible Woman are Marvel Comics’ most prominent superhero couples, Scarlet Witch and Vision have always been that “unusual couple” that became a fan-favourite, didn’t diminish either character’s individual stories and, once the two were officially introduced into the MCU in 2015′s Avengers: Age of Ultron, became a hotly anticipated coupling by fans from their somewhat instant connection.

Not only is this comics-accurate love story finally being realised in the MCU, but the fact Kevin Feige feels as passionate about them as fans like I do that he is giving them their own series to shine, along with Wanda herself being involved in the MCU’s next big arc with exploring the Multiverse, I think it is safe to say that WandaVision have outshone the likes of Ant-Man and the Wasp and other couplings to become the MCU’s It couple.

Well, considering Disney+ released a new behind the scenes series called Marvel Legends last week with the first two episodes focusing on Wanda and Vision, despite them being no more than clip-reels of the characters MCU timeline, I wanted to delve in deeper and discuss how characters that were deemed B-worthy enough to be sent to streaming...which suddenly seems like the place to be...have suddenly become the hottest commodities in the MCU.

The Age of Miracles:

Wanda Maximoff first appeared in the MCU in an mid-credits scene for 2014′s Captain America: The Winter Soldier, adding the cherry on the top of what was already a glorious cake of a movie by unofficially introducing Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch to the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Sidebar, this was, at its time, very confusing for fans who believed that Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver were owned by 20th Century Fox in their X-Men movies. However, after the announcement of the Maximoff twins in the MCU and Quicksilver appearing simultaneously in 2014′s X-Men: Days of Future Past, it was revealed that a deal was made between Fox and Disney that the twins would only have certain traits in either universe.

For the X-Men movies, they would be Mutants, have their origins as the children of Magneto and...even though this never happened...appear as members of the Brotherhood of Mutants.

For the MCU, the Maximoff twins are known as enhanced individuals gaining their powers from the Mind Stone after experimentation from HYDRA. There is no mention of them being Mutants, their parents were indirect victims of Stark Industries, and despite Pietro having his original speed physiology powers, Wanda started off with Psionic Manipulation rather than Chaos Magic as her comic-book counterpart has.

However, it has been confirmed by Kevin Feige that Wanda’s shapeless red energy is magic of the same elk to Doctor Strange, just untamed. Meaning the upcoming alternative sitcom reality Wanda has created in WandaVision restoring Vision, could be an application of her latent reality warping powers.

The Maximoff Twins were officially introduced in 2015′s Avengers: Age of Ultron originally as operatives of HYDRA, before moving on to serve Ultron until defecting from him after realising he was evil and joining the Avengers in their fight to save their home country Sokovia.

Vision meanwhile was officially introduced at the end of the second act for the movie but his predecessor JARVIS was first introduced in Iron Man way back when in 2008...the movie that started it all.

As Tony Stark’s A.I. assistant, JARVIS was stated by Stark to be a top of the range program that runs more of Stark Industries than anyone other than Pepper Potts as CEO. However, when Stark had the ingenious idea to create Ultron...otherwise known as RDJ wanting to steal Hank Pym’s most famous comic-book storyline...as a peacekeeping program to safeguard Earth from extra-terrestrial threats, in typical sci-fi fashion Ultron goes evil and seemingly destroys JARVIS.

However, JARVIS simply retreated into the server only to return after the Avengers acquire Ultron’s recently created synthetic android. The Science Bros. transfer JARVIS’ conscience into the synthetic body and with the help of Thor/s thunder charge Vision was born.

I have to say also, while superhero movie trailers do get me excited for said superhero movie, seeing the reveal of Vision in the final Age of Ultron trailer gave me that wow factor moment only X-Men trailers usually do.

Comics to Movies:

As I have always admitted, I am not as in-depth with the comics as the movies. However, Scarlet Witch and Vision are two characters I have followed pretty since I first found out about them in the mid-noughties as a teenager.

But what cemented the two as my favourite Marvel characters overall, from Comics, to Movies to TV, is the literal creation of the twin sons Wiccan and Speed who became key members in the Young Avengers.

Now yes, both characters have had lives separate from each other because, as I said before, they are still their own characters despite being also known as a couple. But while Wanda has had a somewhat twincestuous relationship with her brother in far comics history, and Vision had his own family of synthetic androids including daughter Viv, who was a playable character in Marvel’s Avengers Academy, I find the best in Marvel Comics writing was actually after their twins were reabsorbed into the demon Mephisto as they were fragments of his soul and Wanda went crazy heralding in the House of M.

Also, not only is Wanda apparently getting her Scarlet Witch moniker either during or after the MCU Multiverse arc, but also a more comics-accurate costume. Up until now Wanda’s costume in the MCU has been they street-casual which does suit the Wanda of Sokovia. Even when she joined the Avengers and got an upgraded costume it did seem more like something someone could wear for a casual day out...as proof, my sister dressed up as the MCU Scarlet Witch by finding clothes in standard clothing stores rather than costume outlets.

My favourite Scarlet Witch outfit to date has been her full-length red gown complete with headdress from the comics, the headdresses of Magneto’s daughters are so iconic that when Polaris crafted her own out of Magneto’s medallion in The Gifted I was fanboying so hard.

We already know Wanda will be wearing a Halloween costume inspired by her iconic comics suit in WandaVision, but if the Halloween costume looks that impressive, I cannot wait to see what her actual supersuit looks like.

Throughout the MCU:

Right from the start, I really enjoyed both Scarlet Witch and Vision in the MCU, despite Scarlet Witch still not to be known as Scarlet Witch to date in the MCU. But from when we see cameos of Wanda and Pietro as experiments of HYDRA, that one quick shot of Wanda displaying her powers I was sold.

Vision meanwhile gave himself a somewhat modified version of his comics-accurate cape because he saw Thor had a cape and wanted one. He could also wield Mjølnir, does this make him worthy? It must do despite the Avengers constant mithering about it. If you can wield Mjølnir you’re worthy.

Talking from a romance perspective, it was a big tease of the two getting together right up until 2018′s Avengers: Infinity War as while it was teased in 2016′s Captain America: Civil War, a romance wasn’t actually shown until we find them in Scotland.

Interestingly enough in the comics, the couple retire to New Jersey rather than Scotland.

Also, like a lot of heroes, both Wanda and Vision seemed to get an upgrade in powers every movie. We always got teases of both their full potentials in the quieter moments like when Pietro died and Wanda, feeling her twin dying, vaporised the surrounding Ultron Sentries in a moment of distraught heartache and when Vision destroyed the last Ultron Sentry.

But it wasn’t until Captain America: Civil War, where we learned that Wanda could control the Mind Stone powering Vision and Vision could easily severely injure another hero and then in Infinity War when either Vision created a human guise for himself or maybe Wanda did, while Wanda not only made short work of Thanos’ army but could also destroy the Mind Stone and, in Endgame take on and possibly defeat Thanos single-handed, that we got a true display of her powers.

MCU creatives have stated that Scarlet Witch is in fact the most powerful MCU hero after it was originally stated Captain Marvel was, so when Wanda finally upgrades and realises her true potential this should be fully realised making Scarlet Witch the most powerful MCU character.

WandaVision and MCU Future:

Here’s what we know about WandaVision:

Wanda finds herself in a sitcom television universe potentially of her own making after not only losing Vision, but not forgetting also Wanda has lost her family including her twin brother as well as friends and teammates Black Widow, Captain America and even Iron Man.

For someone who was late-teens early-twenties at the time of Age of Ultron, this makes her late-20s early-30s by the time of this series, my age, and so obviously all of this loss and grief will play havoc on one’s mind let alone everything else she has gone through.

Also Vision is back but I still don’t know to what extent that is, is he only back in this alternate sitcom reality or has Wanda willed him back into existence in the same way that she willed their twin sons into reality in the comics.

Speaking of which, we know the couple have twins in the series as when they’re in their 80s sitcom setting, we see two bassinettes and it’s hinted we will see them as teenagers.

It has to be Wiccan and Speed, it can’t not be. This would be a massive red mark on WandaVision’s scorecard if it isn’t. I have recently heard rumours they could be human-android hybrids to match the parents and someone even suggesting Viv could be one of the twins...but I can’t fathom why if the Young Avengers are coming into play with the confirmation of Kate Bishop, America Chavez and Stature, why these two core characters wouldn’t be at play.

The other hotly anticipated character introduction is Kathryn Hahn as Agnes...again if this isn’t Agatha Harkness then it is major tease. Agnes is surely an alias for Agatha Harkness who in the comics and even X-Men: Evolution was Scarlet Witch’s mentor for controlling her powers.

The only difference between the two incarnations is in every other version of the character Agatha is an old woman whereas Kathryn Hahn looks like Kathryn Hahn. It will also be great to see Agatha Harkness in a comedic setting as Kathryn Hahn is hilarious.

We also have returning MCU characters Jimmy Woo, Monica Rambeau and Darcy Lewis added to the series. All three may not be connected or they all could be working for SWORD which is the successor to SHIELD first seen in the post-credits scene for Spider-Man: Far From Home.

I’m thrilled to have Kat Dennings back in the MCU and considering both she and Randall Park have a history in comedy, the sitcom settings should suit them well.

I’m not sure why any of these characters are connected to Scarlet Witch or Vision considering all three are connected to separate heroes Ant-Man, Captain Marvel and Thor respectively, but any excuse to bring them back I’ll take it.

What is also more or less confirmed is the ending of WandaVision will see a massive witch fight between Wanda and Agnes resulting in Wanda tearing a hole in the multiverse starting the Multiverse arc in the MCU which will be picked up in Spider-Man 3 and resolved in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness with Wanda set to appear in both movies.

As for Vision’s fate post WandaVision, it is currently unknown where he will appear next if at all, and it may actually depend on the success of the series, but we know that Wiccan and Speed will become part of the Young Avengers so they’re staying on.

It is also worth noting that in the Young Avengers, a second version of Vision known as Jonas was a member of the team created through Nathaniel Richard’s neurokinetic armor gaining sentience after having Vision’s operating system downloaded into it.

Nathaniel Richards is a distant relative to Reed Richards aka Mister Fantastic who is set to appear in the upcoming Fantastic 4 movie, but is also a time remnant of Kang the Conqueror who is set to appear in the upcoming Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantummania and may be alluded to in the upcoming Disney+ series Loki.

Nathaniel is also Iron Lad, who forms the Young Avengers as part of the Avengers Fail-Safe program. Do you see how this all ties together?

So basically even if we don’t see this Vision again after WandaVision, we may see Jonas in the Young Avengers.

As for the future for Scarlet Witch post-multiverse, if they are bringing in Wiccan and Speed, I really want the next big arc to be the Children’s Crusade. I know fans want House of M...WandaVision is possibly as close to House of M as we’re going to get.

Children’s Crusade is how Wiccan and Speed learn about and are reunited with their estranged mother who has lost her memories and is living in wedded bliss with Doctor Doom...who could easily be introduced in said Fantastic 4 movie.

Conclusion:

Whatever the future holds for Scarlet Witch and Vision, no one can deny that this love story has not only been an organic one, but with it set to be the running theme for WandaVision, this love story is most definitely one for the ages.

So that’s my analysis of the newest superhero superpowered couple currently at play in the MCU, what do you guys think? Is WandaVision a couple for the ages? Will they have a place in the MCU after the upcoming Disney+ series?

Post your comments and check out more MCU Reviews as well as other posts and WandaVision starting this Friday (Jan 15).

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jaepies · 3 years

Text

𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙣 - haikyuu!!

oikawa x fem!reader

mafia au

chapter 1 : probably shouldn’t have seen that

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

it was a monday morning. Possibly one of the worst days of the week in your humble opinion. it was not the fact that it was the first day of a very long school week that was bringing your mood down. not to say that it did not help contribute to your agitated state.

you were angry that it had already been a few weeks and you were no closer to getting your revenge on the brown-haired man who you had recently learnt that his name was oikawa.

no thanks to the swarm of fan-girls that constantly followed his every step, worshipping the ground he walked on and fainting at the mere sight of him.

frankly, it annoyed you. you did not understand what made him so attractive or likeable. after all, all he did was make you feel terrible and then walk all over you like some filth-ridden pavement.

unbeknown to you, the anger that you were feeling had etched itself onto your face. this was made evident by the obvious stares of your classmate, it was only the second week back at school and you felt like you have had enough attention to last the rest of your high school experience.

it's all because of that poop head.

the quicker you could get your revenge, the quicker he could leave your thoughts and as a consequence, your head would hurt less.

you have been doing too much thinking these past few days,

exhaling a deep sigh, you lay your head in the palm of your hands and the attention of the classmates returning to the teacher. you finally felt at peace until there was a sensation of something hitting your back.

turning around, there were no obvious signs as to who could have thrown this at you however, your curiosity was soon cured as you immediately got your answer.

"don't even try and be first in the dining hall. we both know that we'll get lunch first no matter what, that's just how the school works boo.

you should also get rid of that frown on your face, it's not a good look. apparently, they make you age faster and i don't think you want to look like a grandma more than you already do.

- the man who still waiting for an apology for injuring him, oikawa ;)"

did i forget to mention that pooikawa was in your class?

you had to suffer every single lesson and period with his infuriating presence clouding your vision for hours.

grabbing the nearest pen out of your pencil case, you quickly scribbled a reply on a fresh piece of paper out of your notebook. it was not neat but hey this was a reply fuelled by anger and hatred, who said it had to be pristine?

when the teacher was not looking, you took action. as you took into account all the possible variables that would occur when thrown, you aimed the scrunched up ball slightly to the right. you stuck your tongue out as you tried to figure out the projectile. the exact angle and height to the throw of the ball had to be perfect before launching the grenade.

satisfyingly, you watched it hit the temple of the great man himself before facing the front not wanting to get caught but you cheered silently on the inside.

"mission success, the target was successfully destroyed!"

seems like a dramatic way to think but it was just your nature.

whilst beaming as you reflected on your recent achievements, a wooden stick thumped your head. as a reflex, you pulled up your hands, gingerly, to rub your head and to help soothe the pain you were feeling. the teacher stood there, looking at you; seething with rage. he seemed to hold a familiar scrunched ball in his clenched fist. you wanted to die right there as it dawned on you that it was your note to oikawa.

"(y/n) (l/n), you know passing notes is unacceptable in class especially with language as vulgar as this."

you internally cringed as you remembered using some not so colourful language in the heat of the moment when writing your response.

"sir, I am so sorry. it will not happen again. i sincerely apologise."

"i hope you stay true to that as this better not happen again."

there was a pause and you thought this was the end of the scolding with no punishment in sight.

"meet me in the teachers' office after school."

groaning as you realised you allowed yourself to celebrate too early, you caught oikawa smirking his always stupid smirk. however, this time it seemed very much direct at you and as you were already annoyed; you tried sending him your worse glare even though you did not have the energy to do so.

lunchtime eventually rolled around and you were still dismal from class. hikari and your other friends noticed your difference in mood but were not sure as to whether they should mention anything because they did not want to aggravate you even further.

until hikari did the unthinkable and actually talked to you.

"y/n why are you so pissy today and stop picking at your food. either eat it or dump it because i'm not letting you ruin my appetite."

everyone else looked at hikari with worry evident in their eyes; you were unpredictable when feeling miserable.

"hikari~,"

you were blubbering like a child and holding onto hikari's arm like it would save your life.

"i have to meet the teacher after school because i passed a note in class."

at this point, there were most definitely tears brimming and threatening to spill.

"oh y/n, that's not so bad. everyone has sent a note in class before, you are not the first and you are not the last."

"you don't get it. i swore in that note and now i am going to get detention when i go to the teachers' office and then my school record will be ruined and then that's all universities will see when they look at my application and then no one will want me and then i'll rot in a hole because i wasn't able to go to university and get employed and make money,"

you paused for a breath,

"AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF THE DICKHEAD, OIKAWA."

your rant seemed to have come to an end and your friends looked at you like you were an alien who had grown two million heads. nonetheless, you could not blame them because you definitely sounded crazy.

hikari patted you awkwardly, trying to comfort you. She knew that what you needed was time to calm down and rationalise the fact that your life was not over just because you may potentially get detention. you had been a straight-A student for your whole life with a clean record and she knew as much as you would have liked to keep it that way, a single detention was not going to ruin your chances of going to a prestigious university.

dabbing your eyes which prevented any tears to fall, you sat upright and pieced your dignity and pride back together like humpty dumpty.

"you are right hikari, my life isn't over but there is something I need to do."

"no, wait. y/n don't go do anything stupid."

knowing that you were probably going to see oikawa, she let you be. Whatever floated your boat. exhausted, she turned back to her lunch and resumed eating.

meanwhile, you were storming down the corridors. everyone was moving out of your way out of fear of being trampled on.

you knew exactly where the he-devil would be. it was the same place every lunchtime, every day at the same hour.

the school gym.

surprisingly, there were not any students loitering around the area. you noticed that even the birds were not tweeting as they did around the rest of the school. you thought just shrugged it off though by concluding that the students were probably too scared to disturb the volleyball team's practice.

casting a glance at the metal doors and not thinking twice, you pushed the heavy bar handle to open it. with every ounce of your strength, the door flung open. allowing you to see the whole gym.

then there was a loud silence.

looks of horror fell upon the whole volleyball team's faces as they froze in their positions from the sight of you. no one had ever dared to burst in as you had done so they never locked the door but that didn't mean that they wanted others to see what they did in the gym.

your jaw was slack from the sight before you.

there was the volleyball team, the high school volleyball team, holding real-life guns and dangerous-looking knives were laid out on display on the cold, hard ground. punching bags were dotted around the gym which was being utilised by the various members before your sudden entrance. instead of wearing the school's distinct tracksuits, the volleyball team were sporting leather jackets and ripped jeans like they were in some gang.

unable to gather your thoughts, you continued to gape into the room until your eyes landed on the familiar face of oikawa. his face was dark from being caught off guard like this.

stuttering and shaking, you pointed at him.

"t-this is not what a volleyball team looks like. what kind of volleyball team is this?"

that was all you could barely get out as a high pitched squeal. you were flabbergasted and confused. they were holding actual guns, that was illegal, right?

not wanting to see anymore, you decided to pelt off at full speed. not realising that someone else was following you, wondering what your next move was.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#oikawa torū #oikawa #tooru oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x reader #mafia au #volleyball #fanfic #anime #sports anime #writer #aobai josahi

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perennialphilosophy · 3 years

Note

Hi :) would you mind sharing a bit about what academic path you took that led you to a phd in radicalisation? I would love to get involved in radicalisation related programmes later on in life, but am unsure how one can prepare for it education-wise

Hi lovely, I feel like my answer is going to be not very helpful and at the same time still probably what you want to hear. The answer is that there's no real path to it; there are numerous paths you could take to end up there.

I'll give you the story of how I ended up on my PhD programme, just to give you an idea.

I feel like I've always had two subjects I've always been interested in: religion and arts, particularly literature (which you can probably tell from my weird mix of religion related long-reads, as well very poorly written poetry). For my BA, I studied Philosophy, with my dissertation being on the Philosophy of Religion, and my MRes was in the Philosophy of Art. I then took a year out of education to help my partner who'd just started a business, but in that time I still entertained myself by learning more about religion and the arts.

One thing I started doing over this period of time was attend a Bible study that was run by a friend of mine. I went for a few months with the hopes of learning about Christianity and just getting a better understanding of Biblical texts etc. (I didn't have a very good experience here because one of the attendees was very mean to me week on week - I was the only non Christian there so she'd ask me e.g. why I'm choosing to go to Hell etc. which I naturally found very alienating.)

I received an email that summer from my Bible study group saying there was a talk happening not too far from me by this Christian apologist and they were all super pumped for it, so I thought why not? and I went along. It was this talk that changed my life.

I got my notebook and pen, put it in my little bag and was off to Oxford for the talk. I said hello to my Bible study group, and the talk started. This man (I don't really want to name him because I don't want him getting any more attention than he already does) came out, he said hello, and he asked the audience what the word 'radical' means. Now, my understanding of the word 'radical' is something that deviates from the norm, maybe an extreme version of a particular thing. It turned out that I (and my partner) was the only person in that room of that opinion. The audience instantly shouted back "ROOT!", it was clear that they'd been to his talks before and knew this was the definition he wanted. He then went on to say "exactly! Then the 'radical' Muslim must be the one who follows Islam and the Qur'an at the root! The bad Muslim is the 'moderate' Muslim". This blew my mind. As it turned out, the talk was actually an opportunity to bash Islam while comparing it to Christianity, and not to talk about Christianity itself.

Throughout the talk, he referenced passages of the Qur'an and Hadiths which I very diligently noted. The audience, being Christians themselves, accepted what he said as being, well, Bible. He ended the talk by holding up a pocket size copy of the Qur'an and an A5 version of the Bible and said "the bigger the better!" and, I kid you not, the crowd went wild. Ironically, I have never in my life found myself among a crowd of people so brainwashed and radicalised.

So I went home, and I looked up all the passages he mentioned, what they actually said and their context. Surprise surprise, he had decontextualised and manipulated every part of scripture he mentioned, nothing is (or was) how he made it out to be. This got my brain ticking. I realised that if he could do this, there must be people out there doing exactly the same thing but radicalising Muslims into adopting extremist views.

I think it was that very week that I decided I was going to do something about this, I was going to voice the manipulation of scripture to shut that man up, if nothing else! So I went onto the UCL page (this is a university I'd already been accepted onto for an MPhil course in the past but I didn't take the place) and I looked up the word 'terrorism' to see which professors came up, and that's when my supervisors page came up. I looked at his profile, I looked at how to apply for a PhD, and I shot him an email. I told him what my interests were, I told him this story and I asked him if we could meet. He said he found my email super interesting and would love to talk more about my ideas, so I packed my little notebook in my bag and I was off to see him. He offered me a place on the PhD programme there and then at that meeting. I went home and I filled in the formal application and sent it off, which he had approved on his end.

Throughout the two years of my PhD programme, what I do has changed. Right now, I look at the use of scripture in texts produced by Islamist extremists (like magazines), their decontextualisation and manipulation to radicalise others. This is work I'm doing to aid de-radicalisation programmes in the UK and give them a better understanding of the ideologies that have been adopted by people already radicalised and what the 'truth' is that should be used to de-radicalise people.

I got to where I am with my BA and MRes in Philosophy. The important things about a PhD are really that you have good grades for your undergraduate studies, you have good references, and demonstrate a level of knowledge and understanding of the subject matter. Coming from a Muslim background and having already done a lot of reading and writing about religion really helped me.

There's a really good book called Debriefing the President: The Interrogation of Saddam Hussein by John Nixon (an ex-CIA agent), which I found super interesting. Nixon talks about studying History at university, and going on to do a Masters in Iraqi international relations. Then when the war against Iraq started, he was an expert on all things Iraq and ended up being the man who interrogated Saddam Hussein. There are a lot of paths that can be taken, you just have to work towards your goal with the choices you make, but you're by no means restricted.

I know this is a super vague answer, essentially saying wdo whatever, but annoyingly that's the truth. I hope this was even vaguely useful and/or interesting for you, and good luck! Let me know if I can help in any way at all, and if you get the opportunity to read the book then do. I think you'll find it interesting.

M x

#apologies this is so long! I didn't realise and I'm sorry

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charlthotte · 3 years

Text

Breaking Through The Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 4

The squeak of trainers stubbing themselves on the gym floor echoed throughout the massive establishment. Around a dozen boys in volleyball uniforms were scattered around the court, spiking and blocking balls with ungodly strength. It was truly mesmerising seeing a spherical piece of foam being smashed around the court at an immense velocity, even when their hands met with the ball - the force didn't phase them one bit. That was truly amazing.

Futakuchi must have noticed myself and Aone entering the gym through the corner of his eye, he immediately dropped the ball he held in his hands. Soon, his annoying smirk regained its composure upon his face. "What is their highness doing here? We are but a simple sports club, after all." That boy seemed to poke bucket loads of fun out of messing with people. Tired of his jests, I folded my arms and sighed, feeling rather ticked off my his words. At that moment, Aone must have sent him a look, as Futakuchi soon came to his senses and asked me a question. A question that was certainly very out of the blue. "So... Your highness, it seems that our team is in need of a manager; seeing as though our last manager - Nametsu - is in Greece because of a foreign exchange program."

"And what am I meant to do about that?" I replied curtly.

"Well, pretty, pretty please could you be our new manager?" He spoke in the voice of a little girl, furiously batting his eyelashes whilst swaying from side to side, with his hands cupping his face.

"I'm sorry but I don't know much about volleyball. Wouldn't someone else be better at the job other than me?" I inquired, seriously confused.

"However, I do see that Aone was the one to bring you here, and you wouldn't want to disappoint him, would you? Futakuchi's face switched from that of a child to his devilish smirk, knowing the right buttons to press in order for me to accept his offer.

"Wouldn't you need the captain's approval first?" I asked, trying to worm my way out of being the manager in any way possible. "Or the coach?"

He snickered, "I see what you're doing. Moniwa! Coach Oiwake! Come here!" He belted across the gym, beckoning his hands towards himself. A boy with choppy, black hair wearing the number 2 and a man with his hair slicked back with a stern disposition made their ways towards Futakuchi. There weren't going to be any chances for escape after that.

The captain seemed as if he didn't want to entertain Futakuchi and what he was going to say. Everyone was probably thinking that too.

"Captain..." Futakuchi cooed, falling into his childlike state again, "Don't you think it'd be great if this person here became our manager, they've already met Aone and myself?"

"Don't ask me leading questions, Futakuchi. It is their choice to join anyway." The captain turned towards me, shooting me a look of compassion. I did need to join a club, but none I had came across interested me. If I did want to join, I would have already known people, which was obviously a bonus. Pondering for a little longer, I wondered what clubs Hiroko and Rea did? Surely they'd be less demanding than being a manager. Futakuchi also wouldn't be a part of their clubs. Seeing his grimace each day, would have surely drained me.

I nodded in appreciation towards the captain. "Thank you. I'm not acquainted with the rules of volleyball, so I don't think I'd be the best fit."

Once again, Futakuchi started to open his mouth, "But Moniwa! There hasn't been a single other applicant for the position, and we could teach them over time." I could tell he wasn't going to give up anytime soon, the thought of that and how draining his consistent begging would be, I began to cave.

"Maybe you could give me until tomorrow to think about it? I think I'd make the better decision if I think it over properly" However, I knew all too well that no would probably still had been the answer.

"Yeah, that's completely fine. I'm Moniwa Kaname by the way." He held out his hand before me.

"Thanks, (L/N) (F/N)." I then took his hand in mine and shook it, and his grip was certainly more intense than any I had felt before. "Goodbye, I'll see you tomorrow." I swiftly turned around and headed for the outside, wanting to be out of that situation.

And of course, Futakuchi had one more thing to say, "You better say yes, your highness!" Turning around again, my face met his and glared at him, and I ushered him away with a curt wave of my hand. That thing was infuriating. I tried to keep my walking at its fastest pace possible so I wouldn't be in view of the gym anymore. From checking my watch I noticed I had a decent amount of time before my train came, so maybe I'd do a bit more reading when I arrived at the station.

Walking down, my velocity was set at a mere saunter compared to the jog this morning, the afternoon air hitting my face making me feel somewhat refreshed. My head remained empty for the rest of my stroll, there was no need to think, I was walking down the path solitaire - just admiring whatever new things came into my view. Seeing as though, I didn't really get the chance to that morning. This place was just a completely different world compared to my last hometown.

After arriving at the station, I set my bag down beside me and fumbled around inside it for my book. I had read quite a large portion of its contents earlier, the new page about the oak-leaved geranium. Giving it to someone would mean that you believe that your friendship with the recipient was true, so true that your bond could never be broken. It could also mean that you believe that your friendship outshines every other one in existence. Once again, I thought how beautiful it was that something so powerful could be expressed with something so delicate, something that could easily die if not taken care of. Maybe that was the whole concept behind the language, if you let the flower die - the meaning of the flower would die with it. I sat in thought for minutes more, contemplating the meaning of things we can and could say.

Not so long into the future, the train pulled up. Sparsely packed and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with the vehicle's integrity, quite a pleasant situation - given the shenanigans of the earlier hours of the day. I plonked my body down onto a seat by myself, gazing out the window, this time my thoughts interrupted by the choice I had to make. 'Should I join? But what if there's a person better fitted to the job and they don't get the chance. After all, their original manager was still joined onto the club, she could still come back. But that meant my job wouldn't last that long." I thought to myself, waffling on and on inside my head - almost panicking in a place where nobody could hear. I just couldn't seem to calm my subconscious down by even one peg. I regret to say that the rest of the journey, my mind stayed locked in the state of internal pandaemonium.

I hopped off the train, my head still stirring inside of me. I didn't even acknowledge my parents when I came through the door, I simply clambered up the stairs and flopped straight onto my bed, my head drowned into my pillow. Only coming out for air when I realised what I had said to myself earlier. I'd simply ask Hiroko what clubs her and Rea were in. Propping myself upon my headboard, I typed the digits I had been given by Hiroko.

"Hey Hiroko. It's (Y/N), just a quick question. What clubs are you and Rea in?"

It barely took her thirty seconds to reply.

"Hey!!!!!! I'm with Rea right now! She is in the computing club but she ditches everyday :( I'm in the rowing club but we can't take anymore members. Why'd you ask?

"I've been asked to manage the boys' volleyball team, but I don't really want to."

"OMG!!! That's so cool! Imagine managing a team that's practically famous!"

Famous? Why would a public school like Date Tech be famous? I thought that was a little weird, so I questioned Hiroko about it.

"Famous?"

"Didn't you know?!?! They're basically famous in Miyagi for their iron wall of blocks!!"

"Oh, that's pretty cool I guess. Sorry for troubling you."

"No problem! See you later!"

I thought that it may be cool to manage a 'famous' team, and I wouldn't be the one playing the sport everyday. All I'd have to do was put little things together and keep players like Futakuchi in check. After all, my plan of joining a club with Rea and Hiroko wasn't going to work at all, maybe I'd even get to miss school to go to their matches. I did have to join a club at some point, and there weren't any that caught my attention. Even if I didn't like it - I'd only have to stay until their actual manager got back from Greece.

Didn't Futakuchi say something about disappointing Aone?

"However, I do see that Aone was the one to bring you here, and you wouldn't want to disappoint him would you?"

Did he really mean that? I hadn't even known Aone for 24 hours - wouldn't disappointing him in that way seem strange? But, from what I'd seen Futakuchi do; he was probably just trying to pull my strings for himself. But why was he even trying to do that in the first place? Was he really that desperate for a manager?

I took one deep breath in, attempting to not let the questions drown me again. But other than the grimace, were there really any negatives that came with being their manager? Maybe being their manager would be a good thing to me...

And that's exactly what I was going to do.

#aone #aone takanobu #aone x reader #aone x gn!reader #aone takanobu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

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sweetenthislittlehand · 4 years

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drarry fic recs

since i read so much fanfiction, and most of it drarry, i decided to make a rec list specifically for all my favorite drarry fics. because what else are you gonna do when you’re under quarantine? and i’ve got a lot of recs, so get comfortable.

first off, lemme just say that if you haven’t read any Saras_Girl fics, you absolutely should. she’s my favorite fic author of all time, really only ever writes drarry (although a lot of her fics feature background romione), and she’s still an active writer. there’ll be a lot of her stuff on this list, so if you don’t know where to start, just keep reading.

Reparations by Saras_Girl [87k, E]

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

this is my favorite fic of all time, okay? harry is a healer trainee at st. mungo’s, and all the trainees go through rotations in different departments of the hospital. harry’s first rotation is in the chemical dependency department, where he discovers he’ll be working under none other than our illustrious draco malfoy. this is so well written, and the characterization is so spot on, and it’s the perfect slowburn. i’ve read it so many times. i practically consider it canon at this point. (it’s also part of a series — Foundations!verse — and i love the sequel just as much.)

Talk To Me by Saras_Girl [15k, T]

When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story.

probably my favorite one-shot. it’s an eighth year fic, but honestly, the year isn’t important to the story. harry gets hit more-or-less accidentally by a spell that renders him blind and deaf, and a *mysterious person* comes to his rescue. it’s the absolute sweetest thing i have ever read in my life. without the means to communicate normally, draco writes the words with his finger on the palm of harry’s hand. the characterization, again, is perfect. and harry figuring things out and reconciling apparently conflicting ideas of what he knows of draco left me squealing.

Building It Together by digthewriter [27k, E]

Forced proximity can only lead to bad things, right? Right.

this is such an original fic, and the concept is so intriguing. grimmauld place is tearing itself apart because harry’s been avoiding the house and its memories, and it finally breaks its magical ties to him. and sirius’ nearest blood relative is none other than draco malfoy. to save the house from itself and restore it to harry, draco has to move in, and with sections of the house disappearing... there’s only one bed. also let me just say that draco’s job is the most original thing i’ve ever seen, and it’s so fascinating and magical, and i love it. this is such a good fic.

Feel You In These Walls by alpha_exodus [6k, E]

Just this once, Harry thinks. Just this once, they'll kiss, they'll have sex, and then it'll be over. Draco hadn't expected more than that either. But then it happens again, again, and neither of them had anticipated having feelings involved - but then they've never been able to keep anything casual, have they?

i don’t usually read fics that are smut-centric, cause, y’know... asexual. but i really like this one. it’s beautifully written, and the dynamic is just. so great. also, asexual or no, i am not immune to tension. (i’ll take or leave the smut — in fact i’d mostly rather leave it — but unresolved tension? heck yeah.)

Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl [60k, M]

When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected.

in the face of the dangers of the remaining deatheaters who have not been apprehended, mcgonagall sends harry, ron, and hermione to a safe-house. narcissa malfoy, having saved harry’s life asks one thing of him: to take draco with him into hiding. things take an unexpected turn when draco accidentally fouls up a spell and binds harry’s wrist to his by a silver thread that will only break when the people bonded ‘have reached a point of mutual understanding, confidence, and accord’. it’s so well-written, and i love the setting, and everything a lot. it’s wonderful.

Stealing Sweaters by DorthyAnn [12k, T]

It's their eighth and final year and over the course of several months, Harry and Draco have managed to become close friends. Their friends are entirely certain that they ought to be much, much more. So they just decide to... help things along.

this is so sweet, so fluffy. i die. harry and draco’s relationship in this is to live for. there’s platonic cuddling and hugging and sweater stealing, and then comes the realization that it’s maybe not as platonic as they thought. the idea behind this one is that harry and draco’s friends think they know what they need, and decide to meddle, and really all they’ve done is mess everything up.

Rainfall by Saras_Girl [4k, T]

So what if Draco has a rain kink? Everyone likes something weird.

literally the only thing you need to know about this fic is that draco has a rain kink. it’s bloody fantastic. i think you’ll find this is as much about draco as it is about drarry, and if you’re as obsessed with draco as i am, you’re gonna love that. (and by that, i mean draco absolutely soaked and with his face tipped up into the falling rain. it’s a beautiful mental picture.)

On a Clear Day by Saras_Girl [41k, M]

Draco Malfoy is waiting for his real life to begin, and it appears that he’s not the only one. Coffee, charity, and the wisdom of the elderly.

draco works for a charity, and his boss is very insistent that he get harry potter to attend their next event. except that harry potter doesn’t attend events at all, and he hasn’t responded to any of draco’s owls, and draco’s just about had it. this is a marvelous fic. it deals with draco feeling the pressure of restoring his family’s good name, it deals with harry’s trauma, how his past experiences have affected him after the war, it deals with the relationship between them in a really important way. because it’s a ‘no i actually hate you, you were a bastard’ and there’s no ‘wait, is that sexual tension’ and ‘well, maybe it’s okay because he was a child at the time’. not that those aren’t valid and really good things to read about in fics, but it’s nice to see it from this ‘i’m a mature adult, so i’m not gonna be petty about this, but i do actually hate you’ angle. i like it a lot.

Time and Again by manixzen [64k, E] work in progress

Harry's absolutely sure it's Malfoy's fault that they are stuck reliving the same day over and over. Harry is good at his job. He's professional, has an excellent closure rate, and is a well-respected Auror. Malfoy's the unprofessional one with his snark and his judgemental eyebrows and his far too-posh-for-work robes. If Malfoy could have managed to refrain from being a pain in the arse, everything would have been just fine. They wouldn’t have gotten in yet another argument, Harry wouldn’t have been distracted, and Harry certainly wouldn’t have accidentally set off a powerful artifact at their crime scene. And if Malfoy would just get out of his way now, Harry's sure he can quickly fix this so they can get back to their comfortable professional dislike of one another.

so, it is a work in progress, and i know a lot of people don’t like reading those (myself included), but it’s being regularly updated, and there’s only one chapter left. so i’d definitely recommend it! it’s a pretty great fic, and worth a read.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop [70k, E]

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

just in case one time loop fic isn’t enough for you, why not have two? this one’s also really enjoyable, and i think you should give it a go. if you only have the attention span for a single time loop fic, i would probably suggest Time and Again over this one, but that’s a personal preference. this one has some pretty great moments all its own, and they’re both good reads.

All Life Is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl [114k, M]

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

alright, i realize that this is the length of an actual novel, and that i probably should not have read this as many times as i have, but when you find a fic as good as this one, you can’t just ignore it. this fic is beauty itself, it’s the essence of life, it’s mandatory for everything. you want to go to college? they ask about this fic on your application. you want to get married? there are things you need to know beforehand, like ‘stanley the beetle doesn’t like transfigured mint leaves as much as the real ones’. that’s essential. i don’t know if i like this fic so much because of how good it is, or just because of pet beetle owner solidarity.

Good To Me (And I’d Be So Good to You) by AWickedMemory (TeddyLaCroix) [8k, G]

Everyone returns to Hogwarts after the war, but nothing is quite the same. Harry's groupies are creepier than ever, Ron and Hermione are snogging all over the place, and the once-proud Draco is shuffling around like a kicked puppy. But that's okay: Harry's got a plan.

this fic is pure fluff, and if that’s not your thing i get that, but the premise of this is just so cute. because harry’s got a mental catalog of facts about draco malfoy and a) that’s hilarious and adorable, and b) they’re actually really interesting and insightful for draco’s characterization. also the end reveal is !!!

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by DorthyAnn [5k, T]

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

because this trope never gets old, and this is really nice. there’s so much cuddling, and so many blurred lines between friendship and romance, and i love it. i’m a firm advocate of cuddling in every fanfiction ever. no fic is complete without it.

Helix by Saras_Girl [92k, E]

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again.

it’s about snails. in an effort to get harry and draco to get along a little better, mcgonagall assigns them to overseeing the care of some very delicate snails for hagrid. there’s lots of heartfelt conversations, and struggles, and they’re very in love, so that’s nice. there’s also some really well-handled snape content, which i actually appreciate a lot, despite not really liking snape. it sets snape as draco’s godfather (which is a headcanon i love), and there’s a lot of contrast between draco’s relationship with snape and his relationship with his actual father, and i appreciate that a lot.

#drarry #fanfiction #fic recs #ao3 #archive of our own #draco malfoy/harry potter

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areiton · 4 years

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End of Year Recs - 2019

It’s the end of year fic round up time--and this year I’m doing things a little different. I’m gonna do my favorite two fic for each ship or gen pairing I really enjoyed this year, and then (up to) five honorable mentions.

So here--without particular order, my faves from the year!! Also this is long as hell so hit read more for...more...

Irondad

we’re gonna have to do this together by edibna (Irondad | MCU)

Being a superhero sometimes means you forget about the small dangers in the world, like disease. For Peter, this means he loses May to natural causes, not something he could ever save her from.

Unknown to him, May left custody of Peter in the hands of Tony Stark, who, even though he wants kids, has no idea how to actually raise one. With a grieving superhero teenager on his hands, Tony is going to have to figure it out quick, if he wants Peter to ever be able to move on and be happy.

Webcams and Webshooters by losingmymindtonight (Irondad | MCU)

Once Peter's relationship with Tony gets out, the public can't get enough of their new favorite father-son duo.

So, naturally, they monopolize.

(Or: Tony and Peter's relationship, as seen through videos.)

Honorable Mentions:

Put out every star

Holdfasts

i'm the satellite (And you're the sky)

stars, hide your fires

miscommunications

~*~*~

Winteriron

fractures (filled) with liquid gold by itsallAvengers (Winteriron | MCU)

Ultron happened. The Avengers left.

Tony is fine with being alone again. He always worked better as a Lone Wolf than a team player anyway. He's not sleeping or eating or resting or... living, but it's fine. It's good. It's okay.

And then there's James.

illuminate me by Half_SubmergedinPurgatory (Winteriron | MCU)

Tony isn't a healthy man. He's fine with that, really. It makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, he has a job to do that kind of has his health as a major requirement. So he unmakes himself, remakes the Accords, protects every single child super that enters his field of view, and hopes ferociously that the Avengers never come back to the US. He doesn't spend any time at all rebuilding Bucky Barnes' life. Not a single second. Anything he does that contributes to him is simply an accident.

Bucky is a patient man. It's ok if Tony wants to ignore him for now. He won't be able to forever.

(Somewhere in the world, a sense of dread crawls up the back of Tony's spine)

Honorable Mentions:

a street corner in Cambridge

does it hurt

the road less traveled at the end of the line

scars

looking at you

~*~*~

Sambucky

winter, sweetheart by wilsonsnest (Sambucky | MCU)

To know the Falcon’s identity feels surreal to Bucky. It means nothing. As far as Hydra was concerned, Sam Wilson was erased. He has only ever been The Falcon and to Bucky he’s always been Sweetheart.

we could jump state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard (Sambucky | MCU)

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

Honorable Mentions:

seek out hidden places

not an end, but (the start of all things)

cancel all your reservations (no more hesitations)

they gave you a heart, they gave you a name

you touch me within and so I (i know I could be human once again)

~*~*~

Starker

Stipulations by anonymous (Starker | MCU )

Peter Parker’s longterm dream recently went from ‘get into MIT’ to ‘afford going to MIT’. As the time approaches, it’s dawning on him that he won’t be able to pay his tuition and afford the move to Cambridge all at once: he’s out of money, his secrets are beginning to pile up, and desperation has started creeping in...

And then one night, he saves Tony Stark’s life.

mr. hurricane by spqr (Starker | MCU)

Peter makes it to the ripe old age of 26 without anyone finding out he’s Spider-Man. And then he falls asleep during a B&E at Stark Tower, and the rest is—well, the rest is this.

Honorable Mentions:

Both Ways

breaking point

velvet elvis

the leash

left hand free

~*~*~

Thorki

along a deserted highway by trieduntrue (Thorki | MCU)

The events of Thor (2011) take a different turn when both Thor and Loki are sent to Midgard without their powers as punishment for their misdeeds. With nothing except each other, they go on a journey to reclaim Mjolnir together.

soft shocks by stereobone (Thorki | MCU)

"And why," says Thor, "would I need to come with you to Jötunheim?"

"Ah, well," Loki says. "They may be under the impression that we're married."

Honorable Mentions:

How Long We Were Fooled

we spent our darkest days howling at the moon

~*~*~

Ironhusbands

touch the sky by scrollgirl (Ironhusbands | MCU)

Jamie Rhodes wouldn't be who she is today without her friendship with Tony Stark. The flip side of that is Tony Stark wouldn't be Iron Man without the twenty-five years he's been in love with her.

twenty five years by Not Applicable (Ironhusbands | MCU)

Nobody knows how long this has actually been going on. (Tony Stark has pretty much been in a monogamous relationship since he was 18 years old.)

Honorable Mentions:

a date on the moon

home for the non-holidays

reconstruction

pretend we're in love (the heartache still hurts)

i place your hands around my neck

~*~*~

Winterhawk

silhouette by mariana_oconnor (Winterhawk | MCU)

After a mission in Mexico goes wrong, SHIELD Agents Barnes and Rogers are given the job of hunting down the notorious Hawkeye and the Black Widow, the only problem being: no one even knows what they look like.

On the other side of the law, Clint's enjoying messing with their new SHIELD shadows, especially seeing how close he can get to Agent Barnes without him realising, but he makes the mistake of getting attached, and that makes everything more complicated.

nameless by AvaKelly (Winterhawk | MCU)

A gun is pointed at him before he can even move from his position, the Soldier's metal arm steady in its aim. Clint sighs.

"Nemo," Clint says. "It's tattooed on your wrist, right here," he lifts his right hand and taps his left index finger where his palm ends.

The Soldier's eyes widen. "How do you know this?"

"I put it there."

Honorable Mentions:

What do you mean we left Clint on Mars

clint barton's super secret snipers' club

lucky in love

i'll keep you safe here with me

complications

~*~*~

RPF

the end of the missing by eadunne2 (Evanstan | MCU RPF)

Sebastian remembers this from before, Chris’s physicality, remembers shoving and tripping one another, and hugs that lingered. It had been silly, friendly, until some vague, unspoken moment towards the end of filming when their relationship had changed again - Chris circling Sebastian’s wrist with his hand, or a palm to his lower back, only on rough days, only when Chris noticed him tensing up against unpleasantness in his own mind. At first Seb wanted to apologize, brokenness is a tiresome trait, but the actions seem to calm Chris too, ease his busy brain. When they lost touch Seb pretended not to miss it; he wouldn’t have had a chance to anyway, right? - with two dozen excellent fuck buddies all over the globe. Weird how they all had blue eyes though.

I would lose my decadence (for your love) by deadhearts (Stackie | MCU RPF)

The thing of it was that Mackie had just been trying to make a point. He'd just been trying to shut him up, or to make something clear, and he'd done what he'd set out to do. Sebastian had been well and properly put in his place. He'd been put in his place so well that Mackie had never touched him again, not in that way, because he'd never had the need: whatever question he'd been asking had been so thoroughly and roundly answered that there wasn't any need to ask it twice.

Honorable Mentions:

Like O, Like H

when you kiss me i just gotta say (baby i love you)

cross the line

fine until you're not

~*~*~

Stucky

ain’t no grave (can keep my body down) by spitandvinegar (Stucky | MCU)

It's six in the morning, and Steve is heading out on a run when he nearly trips over a bouquet of sunflowers on the front steps of his brownstone.

For a second paranoia takes over, and he kicks the flowers a little, waiting for them to explode. They don't. They also came with a card, which he picks up. The front of the card has a tasteful picture of the Brooklyn bridge at sunset. It's very nice and sedate, like the kind of card you would buy to give to your boss. On the inside someone has written a short message in big, shaky block letters.

I AM SORRY FOR SHOOTING YOU.

Steve sits down hard on the steps.

there should be stars by childhoodinfamy (Stucky | MCU)

“All memories to tell you the truth aren’t good.

But sometimes there were good times.

Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep

beside me and never dreamed afraid.

There should be stars for great wars

like ours. There ought to be awards

and plenty of champagne for the survivors.”

- Sandra Cisneros

Or, it takes them decades.

Honorable Mentions:

This, you protect

little animal lives

the long game

a long winter

the art of cooking for two

~*~*~

Stony

never too late for love by Sineala (Stony | MCU)

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing -- a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he's not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn't his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they're not soulmates, and he's going to do right by her. After the war's over, he's going to marry her, and they're going to settle down. They'll buy a house. They'll have children. He'll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It's going to be a good life. He doesn't need a soulbond. He'll be fine without one.

Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future -- but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in.

And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

wait and sea by lenalena (Stony | MCU)

In which Tony and Steve get sent on an undercover mission aboard a cruise ship to make contact with Hydra. In this AU the military has kept the discovery and defrosting of Captain America a secret, so Steve and Tony have never met before. Yet they are to pose as newlyweds....

Honorable Mentions:

celestial navigation

the song without words

dear mr fantasy

slipping off the page into your hands

the twice-told tale

~*~*~

Stuckony

hide a heart of war by Hummingbird_52 (Stuckony | MCU)

“You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.”

Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

the stories we write by NotEvenCloseToStraight (Stuckony | MCU)

A question at an interview leads to Steve and Bucky discovering fan fiction, and after piles of coffeeshop au's and fake dating tropes (and screaming over ABO fics) they find an author that writes some of the best fics they've ever read-- reader inserts starring a dark haired, dark eyed male reader as their shared love interest.

The platonic fics are heartfelt and sweet, the smutty fics have them tearing their clothes off to act out scenes, the soulmate fics have them crying over the true love that so often ends with the Reader passing away and Stucky being left behind.

Then one day, a fic posts with a scene taken right out of their lives, one that happened right there in the Tower, entirely the same right up until they take the Reader to bed.

Bucky is the one to realize the writer is Tony.

Steve is the one to suggest writing fics of their own to show Tony they return his feelings.

Writing fics to show an author you're in love? What could possibly go wrong?

Honorable Mentions:

eagles

branded

imagine you and you (and you) and me

#arei reads fic #stony #stucky #sambucky #irondad #starker #winterhawk #winteriron #MCU RPF #stuckony #ironhusbands #thorki

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prorevenge · 5 years

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My homophobic English teacher...

I saw a post on here recently about someone's horrible English teacher, and it reminded me of my own experience. TL;DR at the bottom. Doing this requires a quick lesson on the Australian high school system (I'll keep it short, don't worry). Basically, there are 6 years of Australian high school, from grades 7 through to 12. 7-10 are prep years where your grades don't carry over, then grades 11 and 12 are your big bad years with huge exams similar to the American system. When entering grade 11, you get to choose whether you want to pursue a path to university- doing this requires you to do ATAR subjects, which are the hardest subjects available. Your final grade in your last year is what universities use to decide if you get in. Basically, you have one year to really make it count. Grade 12 is the year to finally show off everything you've learned after your whole life at school. It's basically do or die, the hardest year of your life.

So, to begin this story, let me explain that I am good at English. Like, really good at English. I won awards and got accepted into state recognised programs for how good I am at English. It was the one subject I could guarantee to get an A in. So, naturally, I chose ATAR level English- I'd always wanted to get into some kind of English based university course. When I entered my grade 12 class I was greeted by my teacher, who we can call Mrs Slug, since she looked like a fat slimy slug. This was the kind of teacher that just handed out worksheets and sat behind her desk for the class and didn't actually teach. It was frustrating since this was my final year and I wanted my grades to be as good as possible, but I was confident in my ability to just pick it up on my own, so I didn't complain about it.

Then it came time for the first assessment. It was a creative writing piece, and short stories are my shit, so I wrote a short story. I followed the marking key carefully while also adding my own flare to the story to make it really entertaining and thought-provoking. The story was basically a dark romance told in first person, where the gender of the perspective character wasn't revealed until right at the end, thus revealing the couple to be gay. I specifically kept the main character's gender ambiguous until that point, since I wanted the reader to assume it was a girl then have a shock at the reveal. I contacted some of my friends from my high-level English programs and they all loved it. So I happily submitted it. I didn't think too much of it- I was interested to see how my ability held up in the highest level of school, but I wasn't expecting anything below a B. Then I got my result back.

Failed.

I couldn't believe it. I was genuinely confused. There were absolutely no marks on my paper, no red pen, no details as to why I failed, just a big fat 8/20 on the back of my paper. I was really upset, obviously, since I'd worked hard on it and it was the first time I'd failed an English assignment ever. I went to Mrs Slug and asked her what was wrong with it. She fluffed around and gave me an answer that essentially boiled down to, "I didn't like it." That was it. She had no reason to fail the story, she just didn't like it. News flash, that's not how marking creative writing works. If it'd been any other year, maybe I would've just blown it off and moved on, but this was grade 12. This failure could be the difference between getting into university and getting rejected.

So I went to the head of the English department at my school and requested a regrading. I didn't tell him that I'd failed it, just that I wanted more feedback. He gave it back to me as an 18/20. I then slammed my failing grade onto the desk and asked him to explain. Clearly, Mrs Slug stood by her grade, because instead of just changing my mark, they sent my writing to the top school in the state to get remarked again. It came back 19/20. Needless to say, my mark was changed to an A.

The next few assignments went relatively the same. Even when she passed me, I asked to be reassessed and my mark was always made higher than what she'd given me. Eventually, I complained enough times that they started rotating which teacher marked my work so no one could sabotage it. Even still, I always knew when Mrs Slug had been the one to mark it, because there was never any feedback on it, just a barely above average mark that eventually was changed to an A. I didn't get below 80% on any assignments for the entire year, and bare in mind, she hadn't taught anything in her class. I basically taught everyone myself and did the work at home so my peers also wanting to get into university had a shot (most of them did get in, can I add). I didn't understand why Mrs Slug didn't like my story (or me) until one day a discussion on politics came up in my class.

She's very, very right wing. A Donald Trump supporter. In Australia, that's super rare, since most of us think he's a dickhead. It suddenly hit me then. She didn't like my story because I'd done exactly what I'd wanted. She'd assumed the main character was a girl, then when it was revealed he was a guy and it was a gay relationship, she suddenly realised she'd happily been reading and enjoying a story about a gay couple. That must've infuriated her. She failed it for no reason other than her homophobia. After I realised that, I started to mess with her.

My first project was to test Donald Trump's persuasion tactics on her. My next oral presentation, I specifically used Donald Trump's speech style- the way he repeats words, over exaggerates, dehumanises, etc. I know she was the one who marked it (again, no feedback), but this time it was a 19/20. That was the highest mark she gave me all year. I couldn't believe it. The Donald had been right.

Next, I wrote a strongly worded, very opinionated article on how I was bisexual. This was the first time I'd touched LGBT topics since that first story, and I knew it would infuriate her. But she couldn't fail me at this point. It would look way too suspicious if a student who got 80%+ on assignments suddenly got less than 50%. I don't think I ever got the article back (I have a feeling it got passed around the English office so many times they just forgot) but I didn't care that much. I saw on my final report card it'd been 18/20. It must've made her angry, I hope, that she'd read my article and no doubt tried to fail it, but at this point, everyone was aware of her bullshit and prevented her from doing it. I got some dirty looks for the next few classes.

But there was one final straw that made me snap. See, my state holds a huge writing competition for high-schoolers every year. It's a massive deal, and people who win this competition often get sponsored or get scholarships based on it. Tens of thousands of entries get submitted. Obviously, I wanted to win it. Even getting shortlisted would do wonders for my uni application. Part of the school writing program meant that any short stories submitted over the year would automatically get entered in this competition, but I knew Mrs Slug would try and do me dirty. So I went to her directly, requesting to put in another version of the story I'd made with the feedback I'd gotten from the remarking. She told me, to my face, that she'd already submitted my story, so I couldn't change it. Fine. As long as it was submitted, I was happy.

I didn't get shortlisted. That hurt, a lot, since I'd really wanted it. But I figured the competition had been really good, so it was only fair. My little brother, however, got shortlisted for his year (he came in second), so I went to the awards ceremony with him.

Mrs Slug was there.

She looked shocked to see me. A little panicked, even. I was curious as to why she was there, but the answer revealed itself pretty quickly. One of the girls from my class had been shortlisted. Now listen, I'm not a bitter person. If someone genuinely writes better than me, I'm more than happy to accept that. But what I found awfully suspicious was that this particular girl had been given the highest mark in my class before I got reassessed. In other words, she had been Mrs Slug's favourite story. And her story had gotten 15/20. I know grades don't count for everything, and maybe my story had in fact been worse, but I was beginning to get a hunch as to what had happened.

As I said, I'm state recognised for my English ability, so I was able to get into contact with one of the people who had marked the competition. I asked, ever so innocently, if she'd read my story. She replied that she hadn't. I asked if she could check to see if any of the other markers had read it since it was a pretty distinctive story. The answer came back as I had feared. No one had read it.

Mrs Slug had lied through her teeth to my face. She hadn't submitted the story at all. She'd deliberately pulled it out of the submission pile because she was salty. This competition was a /huge/ deal to me- like I said, it would've been a massive part of my uni application. And she'd sabotaged it. She wanted me to fail.

I was fucking fuming at this point. Even today, I get angry thinking about it. I couldn't let this rest any longer. I was beyond pettiness. This was time for real revenge.

My parents both work in education, and my mum, in particular, was pretty high up in my area. She's also a bit of a tiger mum. When I told her what Mrs Slug had done, she was pissed. Like, so pissed. The idea that her kid might not go to uni because of a prejudiced teacher does not sit well with tiger mothers. She marched straight to the principal's office, and since he knew her, we were heard out almost immediately. I explained what happened, how I'd consistently been marked too lowly and my competition application had been removed without my knowledge. My mum was able to kick up a pretty big stink about it, ranting about how Mrs Slug shouldn't even be qualified to teach at all, let alone grade 12 ATAR English, and she needed to be removed immediately. The principal copped an earful, then the head of English did too. Both of them cowered in fear before the rage of my mother. There was nothing they could use to defend her, either- I had proof of the undermarking and the removal of my story application. Statements from my classmates confirmed she hadn't taught anything all year. It wasn't looking good for Mrs Slug.

She continued to sag behind her desk like a festering cancer for the last few weeks of the year, giving me stinky looks. I just quietly did my work, helping other people study for the final exam. I knew I'd done enough. In Australia, you can't just fire government workers, but you can move them. Sure enough, at the end of the year, she was relocated to the middle of fucking nowhere, to a school of fewer than 100 kids, where I hope she rots to this day. It's the closest you can get to being fired.

I got into university, by the way, and I'm now studying my English course. I should also mention that I got into the most competitive university in Australia, and I still get 80% and above in my short stories. That 40% she gave me was total bullshit, and I'm glad I made her suffer for it. No teacher should be able to get away with sabotaging their students like that, especially when it's their future on the line. I can only hope that the few students she teaches now don't have to experience the same thing.

TL;DR: my homophobic English teacher tried to fail me on my assignments, then sabotaged my chances in an important competition, so I got her essentially fired.

(source) story by (/u/millochi)

#prorevenge #by /u/millochi #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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