#uhm another storyboard

[wittebanged]

WHY DID THEY DELETE THAT SCENE OH MY GOD

Storyboard by Yasmin Khudari!!

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 11 . Nothing More, Nothing Less (4)

a/n: double update this week because i got a perfect score on my all-or-nothing oral quiz last night hehe. also, this was supposed to be 2 installments only but I keep making things longer than when I first storyboarded lol

tags: feelings in progress, trying to break out from an abusive mentality, crying, fluff, remember that healing is not instant and takes time

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Everyone dispersed to do their own thing when they got back home. Of course, they did this after they made sure that _____ was inside their room and properly resting.

The healer complied with everyone’s wishes, how could they not when Choi Han was practically guarding the door? However, they were starting to feel restless and bored. Back at their old home, they were never told to rest for this long.

It was the opposite actually.

Everyone back there wanted them to get back in action as soon as possible. It doesn’t matter how bad they feel, _____ is expected to get back to work after 5 hours max.

Knock

Knock 

“Cale-nim asked if you feel well enough to join him for dinner.”

Good thing Choi Han gave _____ an agenda before they die of restlessness.

“Please tell the young master I’ll join him.”

The swordmaster inspected the healer first before nodding. Looks like _____ passed Choi Han’s detector and is deemed well enough to have dinner in Cale’s room.

It was an invitation for dinner but the Medicus knows that its real purpose is so that Cale can have a serious chat with them.

_____ already knows their fault.

In Cale and everyone else’s eyes, they acted recklessly. It’s _____’s mistake that they didn’t inform Cale that could handle that much. Then in turn because of that miscommunication, some things were hindered and they lost manpower for a short while.

To put it another way, _____ hindered everyone’s work.

For that, they were sorry. They didn’t mean to be deadweight that had to be carried around.

_____ told themself that they’ll tell Cale they won’t repeat the same mistake when they have dinner.

…things didn’t go as planned.

When the healer tried to explain that they certainly could handle more than what they did in the Whipper Kingdom Cale only sighed. Then when they tried to say sorry Cale frowned.

That’s never a good sign.

But _____ can’t think of what else they did wrong.

It didn’t help that the children averaging 8 years old also have the same expression.

“You know that I’m trash right?”

“Huh? Uhm yes, I do.”

_____ knew the rumours that labelled Cale as trash, but they didn’t know why it mattered right now.

“Right and as you know someone trash is selfish.”

The healer has no idea where this is going. In the first place, Cale was far from selfish. He may be opportunistic and a little manipulative but everything he did was for the betterment of others.

“Because I’m selfish I don’t care whatever happens to other people. My priority will always be me and my people first.”

_____ still has no idea where this is going.

“That means you, you rascal.”

Cale poked _____’s forehead, straightening the lines of confusion that had formed.

“You’re one of my people. You have been since that day you agreed to leave the City of Life with me.

Meaning, you are my priority. Meaning, I will not tolerate such dangerous and self-sacrificial actions from you.”

On looked at Cale as if he had no right to talk but the redhead didn’t notice it.

“And so in the future, I hope you can promise to never do anything that will harm you again. I don’t need promises of you doing better, I just want to know that you won’t get hurt this severely from healing other people...”

Plop

Plop

Cale who had more to say stopped speaking.

How could he not when he saw _____’s tears?

The same _____ who had a neutral expression after almost dying.

The same _____ who just nodded and moved on after realizing their family had abandoned them.

The same _____ who still had a poker face despite shaking from their nightmares.

That same _____ is now crying.

And it looks like they didn’t even notice they were crying.

_____ only noticed their tears when they picked up the two kittens that had been pawing their arm. After they did, the two took it upon themself to paw away the tears streaming down their face.

It seemed to have the opposite effect though.

Not only did it not stop the healer’s tears it actually made them cry more.

_____ couldn't stop the tears from flowing no matter how hard they tried. After a few seconds of trying they gave up and asked Cale a question instead.

"Cale-sunbae are you never mad at me? You never yell or punish me even though I keep messing up and is essentially useless to your group of experts..." 

Cale feels as though he is gonna have a heart attack from all the surprises because of _____. 

Are they being serious? 

How could Cale get mad at them or think of them as useless when their abilities are so useful? 

Just the amount of money they've saved from using fewer potions because they have a great healer was already amazing. Then there's the ancient power that makes them a living detector. Because of that ability, everyone found it easier to navigate the plants and monsters inside the Forest of Darkness.

How could someone amazing be deemed useless?

This was certainly because of the trash that adopted them.

Cale is going to make sure he fucks them up sooner or later.

But for now, the young master is going to make sure _____ understands their worth.

“I don’t take in useless people. I only take in people that can pay for their meals.”

The redhead used his personal handkerchief to dry the healer's tears.

As he did _____ could feel that warm and fuzzy feeling they felt back at the Whipper Kingdom come back. However, they ignored it in favour of listening to Cale’s words.

“Remember, I personally asked you to join me, to join us. Have you ever seen me make the wrong judgement?”

Cale is definitely tooting his own horn.

But hey if it makes _____ understand.

And it looks like it did because _____ shook their head no. Then they stayed silent as they stared at Cale’s handkerchief. As if they were absorbing the weight of his words.

Cale deemed it enough for now. He knows that _____ will have a hard time reversing everything they’ve learned. It won't be easy, but Cale is willing to go at _____’s pace.

Later that night Choi Han knocked on Cale’s door to report something.

When the swordmaster entered the room the first thing he noticed was how none of the children were with Cale.

“They’re in _____’s room. They said something about making sure that _____ doesn’t cry again.”

Was Cale’s short answer when asked.

“_____-nim cried?”

Choi Han couldn’t believe it. Just what did his Cale-nim say to someone as expressionless as _____ that it made them cry…

“Check on them yourself if you don’t believe me.”

That’s exactly what Choi Han did after he finished his report.

Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t because he didn’t trust Cale’s words. It’s more because he wanted to see if the healer was doing better now.

The black-haired man knocked on the door and Raon answered by opening it using mana.

It’s dark in the room but Choi Han has no problems seeing everything. As he scans the room he sees the children averaging 8 years old lying down on _____’s bed. The two kittens are already asleep just like the healer, leaving the black dragon to be the only one awake.

Choi Han smiled at the sight. The children didn’t look any different aside from the fact they were sleeping on _____’s bed instead of Cale’s. At the same time, it looks like _____ themself is sleeping peacefully.

The swordmaster checked everything one more time to make sure he didn’t miss anything before closing the door to let the four get their well-deserved rest.

[pebiejeebies]

This is cancelled sorry

Update on my new object show!! BLISS!!

BLISS: Beware *whats* Lurking Inside *this* Sweet Sanctum (Object show name :3c)

Tw: mentions of mental abuse, full caps, curse words, eyestrain

So basically, the story is about a host (Semi colon) who has tried to get contestants to join her show, but NOBODY cared! So she slowly lost her sanity (haha reminds me of someone.. uhm.. not me..) and thought, “Hey?! What if I just.. MANIPULATE THEM into joining my show by saying ‘Oh look! Cool thingy that cares for objects health blah blah, then BAM! OBJECT SHOW!!” Because in Semi colon’s world, nobody talks about their health, so if there was some sort of free therapy for the inhabitants, they won’t say no! (I know, it’s stupid-)

This is generally a sort of dark humor show (if it wasn’t obvious), about (idk yet) number of “patients” will fall for the trick, thinking they were going for some sort of offline group therapy sessions, to be met with a lame object show that slowly makes them turn on EACHOTHER!! (Yayy another unoriginal show!!! *sobbing*)

And of course, Semi colon.. is going to make sure, they play in her show this time! Not make everyone forfeit before the show starts!!

(Visual reference is going to be hidden for now, I just need to see if anyone is actually interested in this shit lmao!!)

Of course, “we” (as in me for now) will make a separate blog that me, and said team that want to help with this, we will post our beautiful comic type object show, on tumblr!! With extra details like polls and asks!!

I have very big plans, if we all have what we need, this will work out!! 

These are all the roles:

Artist(s) Answers: none - (a person or two, three or four, who will draw/answer most of the asks on the blog!)

Storyboarder(s): none - (a person or two, three or four, who will storyboard my words into action for the comic artists!)

Background artist: none - (a person who will draw backgrounds for the show with full credit!)

Character Model/Prop artist: none - (a person who will draw the models so that the comic artists could use for the show with full credit!)

Comic artist(s): none - (a person or two, three or four, who will make the characters walk, talk, and interact with eachother by making the storyboards into action!)

Character Lore Keeper(s): none - (a person or two, three or four, who will collect all the details for all the characters and keep them safe and private, unless I ask you to post about it)

Co-Host: none - (a person who will take care of all the roles above, and keep everything in its place, while solving the problems that the host couldn’t fix, and a lot more.. btw I’m still going to make some sort of test for this, but tell me if ur interested anyways, )

Host: @pebiejeebies - (me)

and dw, I will give everyone their full credit on the blog! I’ll never steal your work and call it mine <3 (do tell if I’m forgetting an important role too!)

(Keep in mind, I’d like at least two or three artists that are willing to answer the asks! They could go with the flow in the answering section, from scribbles to very detailed and colorful art, this is basically fun for the viewers so they don’t feel useless! The asks will be either about a question for a certain character, or just a curious/normal question!)

What’s the prize? Freedom!! Imagine being forced into an object show, on a very small and limited island, every day losing a part of your sanity with OTHER contestants that are ALREADY are losing their sanity!!! THIS IS GOING TO BE CRAZY FUN!! (crazy? I was crazy once—)

Anyway, that’s about it for the show atm, I still don’t know how many contestants, or who is willing to help me with what exactly or be my co-host incase anything happens to me.

but for now, I need to know if anyone actually is interested in this! 

Do I make the blog?

@bliss-object-show (will be its name, don’t be a bitch and steal it..)

(tagging: @woodrocko, @sillyosclover, @smoken-bagel, @trashbins-stuff, @yourfriendlyshapeshiftermonsters)

because you offered to help me, so yeah, if you like this, dm me what role you want, with an example or two, the more examples, the more likely I’ll choose you!/nf

You can basically show me any scraps of old art, or make new ones, anything will work! But do keep in mind.. I have the complete right to say no.. so even if I hate hurting somebody’s feelings, I will not say yes if I don’t like it.. okay? Okay

I hope you had fun reading this! Tell me what you think, be completely honest (I love hearing other opinions, so don’t worry about sharing a new idea or a recommendation, etc!)

Bye bye!

[drwcn]

《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 10 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

Other snippets and storyboards can be found on [Master List]

Exactly 851 days - 2 years, 4 months and 11 days - after Wei Wuxian arrived at Gusu and began his mission as a sleeper agent, he was activated.

That chilly morning, he walked into the pastry shop - a front maintained by a decade-long Wen spy - a walk he'd done hundred of times on hundreds of mornings since he arrived. He breezed past the packaging counter, skipped through the faded cotton drapes, and rounded behind the back staircase to the room where Xue Yang always waited for him. Only this time, it was not just his candy-obsessed, murder-happy shidi, but a face he hadn't seen in many, many months. "...Shifu?" Wen Zhuliu's visit meant the end of his carefree days. It's time. That night, Wei Wuxian did not look at either Lan Wangji or Jiang Yanli when he bid "dianxia" and "Jiang-zhuzi" good night. He pretended to retire to bed early, after washing himself of his servant's exterior and donning his robes of night-black. He laid in the dark, waiting for time to pass, and reminded himself of his true purpose. He was never meant to care about these people; love these people. Jiang Yanli was not his doting foster sister; Lan Wangji was not his beloved wangye. I am Wei Wuxian of the great Qishan Wen. Nevernight is my home. I am a spy. Gusu is my enemy. Wei Wuxian kept his eyes closed, his breathing even, and his heartbeat slow. In the lonely quiet, he waited, and waited, and waited. Until the candlelight around the princely manor dimmed to nothing, until the night grew still and the moon shone bright and high in the dark, dark sky. Reaching under the floorboard beneath his bed, Wei Wuxian retrieved his life-long companion from its hiding place and released it from its sheath. "Hello, old friend." He whispered, stroking the blade edge. Suibian's steel glistened with cold malevolence in the stark, pale moonlight.

It would be another year before WWX's identity is discovered. During that time, he lived a double life. In the day, he was Lan Wangji's precious Wei Ying, and at night, he was the blade in Wen Ruohan's hand, stealing, killing and destroying on command. His assignments were not always murder; sometimes it required him to break into secure facilities and obtain copies of certain documents. He was never alone on these jobs; there was always someone convalescing with him from within. Slowly, he began to realize just how deep Wen Ruohan's spy network had infiltrated Gusu's foundation. In a way, it excited him, to know that the posturing and pretending would soon be over, that in the near future a quick war would sweep across the land and unite the two nations. In another way, it frightened him to the bones.

Wei Wuxian killed 37 individuals within the span of a year, 37 men and women of different ranks, status and stations. He did not always know why these people needed to die; in fact, he often didn't and preferred it that way. If he didn't know the motive, then he couldn't argue against the reason, and thus could go on believing that what Wen Ruohan did was ultimately for the betterment of everyone. The men of Gusu were weak - Wei Wuxian was always told - they were not fit to rule. The people of Gusu would be better served under a united empire. He repeated this statement to himself before every job, but over time, the mantra on his tongue began to lose its flavour.

In the meantime however, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli quickly formed a strong plan on how they wanted to live out the rest of their lives. Lan Wangji never quite enjoyed laying with women, but Jiang Yanli had just enough wickedness behind her demure exterior that things were... well, interesting. In any case, it was not long before she came to him all smiles and whispered the good news over luncheon .

"Truly?" Lan Wangji set down his chopsticks. "Hm uhm." Jiang Yanli dapped her mouth delicately. "Now, perhaps it's a good time to discuss how dianxia should go about winning A-Xian's affection. He's under the impression you've cast him aside on taishi's orders and has been giving him the cold shoulder." "I wasn't." Lan Wangji defended himself, distressed and slightly offended. "It's just, huangshu's been watching me like a hawk. I was afraid any further attempt to be closer to him would give my uncle reason to remove him from my household entirely." Jiang Yanli was sympathetic. "The summer hunt is in two week's time, and afterwards, since bixia always likes to finish the night on the river with fireworks, perhaps...." She let the sentence dangle, a knowing smile playing at her lips. Lan Wangji felt hope.

Unfortunately, a little hiccup happened before the hunt could take place. Jin Ziyan falsely believed that Wei Wuxian had fallen out of favour with Lan Wangji and was itching to show him his place. Poor Mo Xuanyu was caught in the middle. Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian was an audacious one, but not so stupid that he could be easily goaded into committing a grave offence. Thus, Jin Ziyan planned to cause an incident in the garden whereby poor Mo Xuanyu would unwittingly "offend" him, and he would publicly announce a punishment that was harsher than necessary. He made sure that Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were near by, as they usually took a mid-afternoon stroll after lunch. True to his predictions, Wei Wuxian could not stop himself for interfering on Mo Xuanyu's behalf. Then in their altercation, Jin Ziyan would fall into the pond, making it seem as though Wei Wuxian was the one who shoved him out of anger. Oh but a lowly servant shoving Hanguang-wang's deputy consort into the pond??! He was as good as dead. What's more, everything happened on the same afternoon that Lan Qiren was scheduled to visit Lan Wangji to discuss matters of court. If it was only Lan Wangji, Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian would suffer little consequence, but taishi tolerated no insubordination or churlish behaviour of any kind.

Lan Qiren was incensed, livid, but he was not hasty to deal the punishment. Instead he turned to his nephew and asked, whilst fully knowing the answer, "Wangji, your household follows the regulations that govern all princely manors, does it not?" "It does, huangshu." "Then tell me what is the punishment reserved for a servant for daring to lay hands on a deputy consort and to cause physical harm to said consort?" "It....I - huangshu -" "What is the rule?" Lan Wangji knew very well that the punishment was death for any servant, maid or eunuch who dared to harm any member of the harem. But Wei Ying, his Wei Ying... "Wei Ying is very precious to Yanli and to Yunmeng-hou. As well..." Lan Wangji hesitated. "Yanli is with child again. It is still very early so we thought it best not to announce it lest we have a repeat of last time. It would not do to upset her at this time." Lan Qiren was extremely dissatisfied with his answer, but conceded for Jiang Yanli's sake. "I'm glad, Wangji, that you've found your way back to your proper companions. This Wei Wuxian clearly has been spoiled to the point of impropriety. His actions today are utterly unacceptable and cannot be allowed to go unpunished or else others would surely follow his example. Guards!" "Detain Wei Wuxian. Have him strung up on a post in the servants' courtyard and give him fifty lashes. No food nor drink. Sun or rain, he is not to be let down until dusk tomorrow." "Huangshu!" Lan Wangji's head buzzed, as though someone had struck him squarely in the temple. His chest felt tight, and his heart ached where it rebelled inside him. "Please -" "He has his life. That is mercy enough."

Wei Wuxian was stripped down to his trousers only and tied up to a post, his hands bound together above him and his bare feet never finding purchase on the ground no matter how he struggled. This fucking suck ass. Jin Ziyan you're a dead man. When all fifty lashes were dealt, even the guards were sweating through their robes. They left him dangling there in the blistering summer heat. A young maid dared to try and sneak him some water but was thwarted by an older momo. "What do you think you're doing, lassie? Did you not hear taishi, no food or drink until dusk tomorrow. Do you want lashes too? Go on! Go!" It rained hard all through the night, only easing up at dawn, but the aftermath of the storm left the air muggy and humid. Combined with the heat, it felt as though he was being steamed alive like a wheat bun. At some point during the second day, Wei Wuxian finally lost consciousness. He was not aware when Lan Wangji barged into the courtyard against Lan Qiren's explicit orders and cut him free.

Really tho, i just want this scene to happen (╹ڡ╹ ) "I'm sorry." Wei Wuxian blinked at Lan Wangji's hunched figure sitting at his bedside. "Whatever for? You saved me, dianxia." Lan Wangji, "But it was my attention that put you in such a position in the first place. Huangshu was looking for a reason to punish you since that day he saw us in my study." Wei Wuxian, "dianxia..." "I find you... lovely, Wei Ying," confessed Lan Wangji with a heavy sigh. His ears burned red not only with the embarrassment of a youth in love but with shame. "I wish for your company, even when you have no desire to be part of my harem. Now I know my mistake. I should have respected the boundaries. I should've known my attention on you would incite jealousy from the others, and as a servant, you have no means of protecting yourself. This is entirely my fault." Wei Wuxian's heart fluttered despite himself. He quickly shook his head. "No dianxia, please don't blame yourself -" Lan Wangji, "perhaps I should send you back to Jiang-fu; I'm sure Jiang-xiao-gongzi would be delighted to have your company back. You would be safe there." Jiang Wanyin had come to visit his sister the very next day after Wei Wuxian was sentenced to whipping. He was one of the most accomplishment young men of his generation, anticipated to be a great general. Nie Mingjue had thought highly of him and had expected great things from this youth. Though perhaps what the late feng-jun found truly commendable was Jiang Wanyin's complete lack of pretense and his short-fuse temper. That is to say, he did not hesitate to get in Lan Wangji's face. His sister would have chastised him, had she not been so preoccupied by her tears. Wei Wuxian, "Jiang...Jiang Cheng was here?" "He was, and he was very upset about your condition. He left many fine medicine and ointments for you." Lan Wangji sighed again. "I shall speak with Yanli. If she is amenable, then I shall make arrangements for you to go back to Jiang-fu. You would not have to put up with me any longer." Lan Wangji stood up. Wei Wuxian grasped his sleeve immediately. In that moment, he could not tell if his panic was derived from his worry that he would not be able to complete his assignment if Lan Wangji were to send him away or if he simply did not wish to part with the prince. "Dianxia - I - I don't want to leave. I - it's true I had once rejected you, but...would you think less of me if I said your attention … hasn't been unwanted for a while, that I have come to enjoy them." At Lan Wangji's widened eyes, Wei Wuxian continued quickly. "You need not give me anything, no elevation, no rank. I don't care about any of that. I am a man, I have no ability to give you children. Nor do I have any family who would benefit from your continued favour of me. I am an orphan, dianxia, I have no place to go. I just....don't send me away. Please let me stay! I'm not afraid of Jin Ziyan, or taishi, or anything!" Lan Wangji sat back down. His hand trembled when he laid it on top of Wei Wuxian's. "Wei Ying...?" Wei Wuxian smiled, still radiant despite his pale complexion. "Dianxia -" "Lan Zhan. No more dianxia, I only want to hear you call me by my name." Wei Wuxian flushed pink. The blush was real, as was the pleased little smile he tried to hide. "Lan Zhan, Wei Ying is yours, if you still want him." The worst part of that was that he meant it. Just the mere thought of being held by Lan Wangji, of being kissed by him, of... so many other wonderful possibilities, made Wei Wuxian want to hide his flaming face into his pillow. Lan Wangji smiled. Quietly, he lifted Wei Wuxian's hand and pressed a kiss to the inner side of his wrist. "Rest, I will be right here." Wei Wuxian felt his treacherous little heart soar: oh no … oh no no no no ….. (Xue Yang's voice in narration: and it was in this moment, that Wei Wuxian knew, he fucked up.) The cruellest thing Wei Wuxian ever did was give Lan Wangji hope knowing that one day he would take it all away.

[kazxraval]

What's your favorite memory with your sister?

"It's more a collection of memories. Ani wanted to make movies. Not just make them, but. Write, direct, star in them. From a young age. I'm not sure how she sweet talked our father into letting her use his camcorder. It was a Sony 8mm. She found a book on scriptwriting at the half price book store. And she'd spend all weekend writing a script. Ani would disappear in her room Friday night, and by Sunday she'd have a full script written. Then she'd convince me to draw storyboards for the thing. To her specifications. Then force me to act in them. Then edited these herself on my grandparent's computer, in iMovie. Actually... they were pretty entertaining little short films. There was a weird, Blade Runner-type one. But about a guy hunting down a serial killer who extracted replicant teeth to sell to humans? But found love along the way-- as one does. And then, one about a sea monster. Which had something to do with a weaponized neurotoxin. I can't remember all the details.

Uhm... she did a lot of different stuff. She made a ghost story. And a straight-up slasher film at a friend's lake house. Ani went there for a slumber party and got inspired. Spent most of the time recording 'establishing shots' for her movie. Somehow wrangled another invite back with the family and made her movie over a weekend. Guerilla filmmaking at its finest. My favorite was the one where my character worked at a pawn shop but also was highly skilled in kung-fu. And a thief. Who battled an Australian mob boss.

I mean. She was just a kid. Kind of goofy plots, but the scripts had a lot of humor in the dialogue. Our parents never would've let Ani pursue film school either. I like to think she would've found a way."

[atlaese]

Chapter 9: ups and downs

summary: secrets are finally revealed and wow, they hurt. pairing: spencer reid x reader TW: some fluff, a lotta angst, cursing because I cant help myself :) words: 2.2K a/n: I’m so so so sorry this took so long 😭 just had the busiest few weeks and even busier times are coming up as my finals have started. Creativity has also been very low for this story, so lmao… thank the lord I storyboarded most of this weeks ago :) Have a lovely day, sweethearts 💖

SPENCER REID MASTERLIST

Spencer closed his book when you put down the small package in front of him. He was early to the cafe where you were supposed to meet and had chosen a table outside, the sun warming him up. In anticipation of your arrival, he had started reading his book. He got to read 56 pages until you surprised him with the small box that was now sitting on front of him, a little bow on top.

“What’s this?” he looked up at your face, eyes twinkling and his cheeks a little bit red - be it from the sun or from seeing you again. You bend down to place a kiss on his reddened cheek and then sat in the chair opposite of him.

“Open it,” you nudged, a giddy smile on your face as the sun illuminated your face, your eyes bright.

Careful, he unwrapped the bow and opened the little box, “you got me a personalized pumpkin mug?”

His name was painted on the side in cursive, the mug itself was shaped like a pumpkin, painted bright orange, a brown handle that resembled the stem.

“Key word is made,” you gently smiled as you flagged down the waiter to order a tea, “you want another coffee?” you gestured to his almost empty cup.

“Uh, yes,” he looked closer at the mug again, “I’m sorry, you said made? Did you make this for me?”

You gave your order to the waiter before answering Spencer, doubt starting to set in at his reaction, “yeah, I have a monthly pottery class thing…”

“Oh, and you mentioned liking Halloween, so thought you’d like it,” you quickly added, “but if you don’t then that’s also fine!”

Your left hand was laying on the table, and you were picking the nail again. Spencer noticed out of the corner of his eye and he quickly wrapped his hand around yours, effectively stopping the thoughts that were rushing through your head, “sweetheart, I love it.”

You lightly bit on your lip, the warmth of his hand welcome on yours and your heart felt a little bit lighter, “you do?”

“No one has ever done something like this for me, thank you so much,” he added, a genuine smile present on his face, “although now I kinda feel bad for not bringing you something.”

Laughter bubbled out of your throat, “please, I had no inspiration during class, so you kinda helped me out there!”

The barista brought over your order and you quickly sipped from the tea, your left hand still wrapped up into Spencer’s.

After a moment of peace, you brought up what had been weighing down on you for the last two days.

“We do need to talk about something, though.”

His face contorted in a frown at those words, not expecting a heavy conversation at all today, “is this a break-up gift? Are you already breaking up with me?”

You squeezed his hand, “didn’t know we were a thing yet, doc.”

He flushed instantly and looked down at your joined hands, “well, is it?”

“Just wait until you hear what I’ve got to say,” you cringed when the sentence left your mouth, not at all how you wanted to say it. You really needed to think before uttering whatever thought was going through your mind.

Spencer looked even more stressed now, but stayed quiet so you could speak.

“So, you know about the match thing, right?” You eyed his reaction. Even though you had talked about it, you wanted to stress this part. He nodded and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah, well, god-, okay so I really was never interested in it?” You took another sip from your tea, delaying the conversation endlessly.

“Y/n, just spit it out please, I’m dying over here,” he awkwardly laughed, his leg bouncing up and down at a rapid speed.

“Okay, uhm, apparently my friend took some of my hair, sent it in and the system matched me with someone, all without my knowledge,” the words tumbled out of your mouth at a rapid speed, but Spencer had heard every single one of them, his heart pouncing against his chest. How were you still this civil with him if you knew about the match?

“Can you say something?” the pained expression on your face and the slight crack in your voice brought him back to the conversation.

“Oh, sorry, I- I thought you weren’t done yet,” this was just plain awkward now. What was happening?

“Uh, so, do you know who you’re matched with then?” He asked, cringing as well because this was just a stupid question to ask if you already knew.

You shook your head, “no, I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

Relief flowed through him for a second, but it returned quickly, realization setting in that he had to tell you, now better than later.

Before he could say something, you spoke up again.

“It’s just, I really like this,” you gestured between the two of you, “and I really want to see what will happen, if that makes sense?”

Okay, this was great. This was absolutely great. If you never opened the email and the account, you would never know he was your match and you’d never have to find out what shit he pulled to get here in the first place. Right?

He nodded and you continued, “but, I also feel responsible for my match? Like, it’s not their fault my friend sent in my DNA and I feel bad for leaving them hanging.

“It’s apparently been a few weeks, I think, so yeah.”

Spencer licked his lips. He couldn't lie to you anymore, but how was he supposed to play this out? How did he start this in the best way, with a minimum of fall-out?

“Okay, can I say something?” He asked and you squeezed his hand.

This was the moment this whole thing went to shit probably, but he had lied enough throughout this whole relationship — is it still a relationship?

“So, I think this whole the match stuff is… just fascinating,” he started and he licked his lips, trying to think of the next words.

“And, the science behind it is just amazing. It’s such a pure form of extracting the DNA and then amplification of the genomes-“

“Spence,” you tapped his hand before he went on a whole tangent of how DNA worked and why this technique was so unique.

“Sorry,” he cringed as he scrunched his nose.

“No, no, I love when you go on explaining something I don’t understand, it’s just- what did you wanna say?”

“Yeah, so the matching-“

Honestly, the universe must be against his decision of telling you the truth, because his phone started ringing aggressively in his satchel. When he took it out and saw Hotch’s name, he knew this had to wait until later. Again.

“I am so sorry, but I have to go,” he told you when he got of the call and gathered his things.

“Oh, that’s okay,” you said, not even knowing whatever he wanted to say would potentially break your heart in a million pieces.

He couldn’t believe you were always this kind and soft and sweet and that you liked him for him, even if he was lying at the moment.

“I’ll text you when I get back?” He said, as if he was asking for permission to hear your sweet voice in his ears again after a horrible case.

“Yeah, please do,” you gave him a soft kiss on his cheek before waving him off as he speeded off.

* * *

It had been two days since you last saw Spencer. The case had been longer than they anticipated and he texted that they would get home in a few hours. He hadn’t said anything about coming over or doing something together, so you guessed he was just exhausted from the case and wanted some alone time.

These two days were pretty nerve wracking for you. You had a few paperwork days at work and hadn’t talked to Sian yet about the whole ordeal. Talking about the whole ordeal — you had gone back into your deleted mails folder and had found all the emails that the company sent you.

How could you have missed it? After a few emails, you had blocked the email account, so you never saw the next few mails pop in.

Hi there! Your match is ready for you!

Hi, your match has been waiting for you!

Click here to finally get to know your match!

If you could’ve just opened one of these mails, you wouldn’t be in the situation you’re in now.

You really wanted to hear Spencer’s opinion on this before you did anything, but you had been patiently waiting for so long already and your patience was wearing thin.

At best, this match thing wouldn’t work out. I mean, they could be from another continent. And did you really have time and patience to date someone from thousands of miles away?

At worst, this person was perfect for you and then you’d have to decide between two people. And honestly, how would it feel for either of them? If you chose one, you’d break the others heart, but you’d also make the other person feel like they were just that — a choice.

Fuck it. You thought and you clicked on the link in the email.

The website opened up, simple and sleek and your picture appeared in the middle of it, asking to verify if it was really you.

You uploaded a copy of your driver’s license and it took a second to verify. How did they get your picture anyway?

The account opened up, your face and you name in the middle of the webpage, as a prompt appeared under it.

“Ready to meet your match? Click here to reveal them.”

You licked your lips and moved the cursor over the prompt. This was it. Should you wait for Spencer? But what if this person really is you soulmate?

The next few things happened in quick succession. At first, your browser took a really long time to load after you had clicked on the link. It frustrated you so much, you clapped your hand on your thigh, willing the computer to push through and get you out of the suspense that was very close to killing you.

Then your face appeared, next to a very familiar face.

“Spencer?”

You blinked a couple of times, trying to see if you were imagining things or if this was reality. What was this, some kind of sick joke?

Is all this matching business just a joke? No, it couldn’t be? Sian had met her match and it seemed legit?

Did this mean Spencer already knew you were his match, he just hid the truth? Had he been lying for weeks on end now?

After Sian lying to you about submitting your DNA, this was just the cherry on top of the lies that had been thrown into your face, if it was true. There was the possibility Spencer didn’t know about it either, as you knew he was a bit technologically challenged.

It still hurt though. Your best friend lied to you and now the man you were dating could have been lying to you.

So when Spencer texted that he got home safely, you didn’t reply but got in your car. The short drive took ages as you tapped the steering wheel with your fingers, willing the car in front of you to push the gas.

The radio was turned off in the car, giving you a moment to think about everything. The combination of everything made your heart burn in your chest, tears making their way up to your eyes when you shut off the car in front of Spencer’s place.

You trudged up the stairs, refusing to stand in the elevator with someone else as mascara was smeared around your eyes.

The wooden door was the only obstacle between the two of you now. Between the truth and the what had been your reality for a few weeks.

You raised your fist, your knuckles connecting to the wood, a hollow sound reverberating through the hallway.

“‘M coming,” the muffled sound came through and you could swear your heart stopped for a second when you heard his voice.

How could this beautiful voice have lied to you?

Doubt was starting to creep in as the footsteps grew closer to the door. Were you overreacting? It wasn’t something that would end your life, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t hurt.

The door creaked open, and Spencer was rubbing a towel through his damp hair. His expression must’ve matched yours as he saw your face, the mascara streaks under your eyes, the glimmer of tears present.

“You know,” he croaked out, not even a question as he felt lightheaded all of a sudden.

The fact that he said these exact words, was enough confirmation for you that he had, in fact been lying to you and didn’t even bother to hide that fact.

You simply nodded as the look on your face shifted from sadness to something else, something more ambiguous - a mix of anger and disappointment.

“yeah.”

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist: @measure-in-pain @trans-reader-fics @spencers-dria @jswessie187

[pastelprince18]

Saw storyboards with gf (the mini eps) and happy trails killed me bc pop really fucking murdered flaky 💔 AND IN ANOTHER STORYBOARD HE HID CUBS BODY???? UHM???? IM REALLY GLAD HE DIDNT BECOME THIS GUY BC YEAH-

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Work-a-holic

Fandom: Haikyuu!!!

Character: Tsukishima Kei

Prompt: First impressions are lasting impressions and this holds especially true between you and your new colleague, Tsukishima Kei.

Part 1 | Part 2

It has been one week since you started. One week after meeting Tsukishima and Yamaguchi as your direct colleagues. One week in which the merest eye contact earned a scoff from the other, in which ‘good morning’ became mere scowls to each other, and in which a cup of coffee wasn’t even enough to salvage the morning mood you incited in one another.

Shortly put; it has only grown worse since your first day. And it did nothing but bad for your teamwork.

“Ah, Tsukki, can you—“

Yamaguchi gulped at the glare he was given, another careful eye shot into your direction.

“Uhm, [Name], are you—“

A grump from your side earned a flinch from the male, who then drew a heavy sigh. The project you had been assigned to wasn’t an easy one. Next to navigating your way around in the office, and the overall awry teamwork there was a lot of work to be done. Work that the three of you simply couldn’t get to as a team, let alone individually.

“We have a meeting with Kiyoko after lunch!”

The tapping of fingers working away over the keyboard silenced, the tense mood in your office growing even denser as a shared anxiety settled in.

“But we haven’t completed the storyboard yet,” you started, realising how bad this was going to look for everyone if you didn’t deliver at the meeting.

“You haven’t finished, you mean,” Tsukishima clicked his tongue, an annoyed expression crossing his face as he crossed his arms.

“The designs aren’t ready either!” you flared back, knowing full well that you weren’t the only one who was behind on work.

“Only because you are dawdling!”

“And you can’t work independently?”

“Stop pushing off the blame.”

“Says you?”

The accusations only stopped when Yamaguchi slammed his fists on the table, startling the both of you. Heaving a sigh the male slumped his shoulders, cowering a little at the sudden attention he got before straightening up.

“I already discussed this with Kiyoko. Since we all just started and [Name] is still getting used to the job,” he starts off calmly, earning a look of delight from you, hope shimmering in your eyes.

“However!” the male quickly interrupted, willing the two of you to stay quiet, “she was only willing to extend it until Monday morning, first thing.”

The implications of it were dreadful, as you froze, quietly realising what needed to happen on a short notice.

“Overtime on a Friday. Bad luck,” Tsukishima clicks his tongue, eyes averting as he resumes his work. “Better get going then,” he states matter-of-factly.

It wasn’t so easy for you, however. You had already made plans with your friends to meet after work, eager as you were to vent about one particular colleague that sat across from you. Obviously you would have to cancel. A thought that didn’t please you too much, as you had been looking forward to catching up.

Though, you did know that you had a lot of work, and that the reason for its accumulation was at large your own fault.

So much for boasting around about your teamwork skills.

You really had to get over yourself already. You couldn’t continue this, or else this wouldn’t be the only time you would be doing overtime on the weekend.

The sun was already setting the next time you looked up, your colleagues slowly streaming past your desk to say their goodbyes before heading out towards their own freedom. Soon, only the three of you are left in the office, earning a collective sigh from everyone.

“I see the three of you are well-synchronised.”

Startling the three of you Kiyoko appears in the door opening, an amused smile playing around her lips as she walks in. “I came to drop off the keys. Don’t make it too late, and leave the office whole, alright?”

Her smile was charming and her concern was genuine, though the jab at the end earned a pout from you despite it all as you shot Tsukishima a glare.

“Will try,” the blond shrugs, clearly disinterested in checking his attitude as he continues tapping away.

This was enough for Kiyoko, another grimace spreading over her features before leaving three store-bought bentos with you along with some drinks.

“Maybe see this as a team building exercise,” she tries to reassure you before leaving.

To this you let another sigh go, wondering how you were supposed to do that when at least one part of the team was unwilling to play nicer with you. Clenching your fists, you fight the urge to glare at Tsukishima, knowing that what the two of you had really was just a childish feud.

“Ah…”

Yamaguchi coughs as he tries to get both your attention. A blush is dusting his face as he rubs the back of his head, seemingly more nervous and shy than he usually is.

“I-- I finished work, so I’m leaving early?” he says somewhat sheepishly, as if embarrassed and guilty that he had done so already when the two of you are still hard at work.

Blinking, you shoot a look at Tsukishima, a frown on your face. ‘Figures’, you think, but decide to let it go as you flash Yamaguchi a smile.

“If you’re done you’re done, don’t worry about us.”

Yamaguchi seems to flush even harder at that, a cough escaping him as he nods, bowing all the while as he stands up and cleans up his desk. “I- ah--” fumbling around with his things Yamaguchi pulls at his tie, suddenly feeling hot as he tries to gather everything. “I will see you Monday, [Name], and see you tomorrow Tsukki!”

“Don’t forget your present, idiot.”

Tsukishima’s voice rings sharp as Yamaguchi freezes in his steps. Without even lifting his eyes off his screen the blond heaves a sigh, rolling his neck to get the stiffness out.

“It is your anniversary, right? Don’t forget your present after rushing through your work,” the blond says boredly, never bothering to tear himself off his work as he berates his friend.

The surprise on your face was evident, but it was a different sort of surprise from the one that your colleague was carrying, a realisation dawning upon his face as he rushed back to his desk, pulling open one of the drawers as he pulled out a package.

“Thanks Tsukki!” the male beams at his friend one last time before running out, this time leaving you and Tsukishima alone in the office for real.

“What are you staring at?” Tsukishima addresses you apprehensively, a glare shot into your direction as soon as the door shut. Realising that you indeed were you quickly let go of a huff, your eyes rolling as you turn back to your screen.

“Just surprised, that’s all,” you exclaim, “didn’t think you cared, at all,” you continue snootily, mentally wincing at your own tone and attitude against the male.

Shrugging you off Tsukishima pauses his work for a bit, a nasty smirk shot into your direction as he leans forward.

“What? Didn’t take you to be the type to have anything to do on the weekends,” he challenges you, earning an offended look from you.

“Or were you talking about Yamaguchi’s anniversary? He has been reminding me since last month, it would be annoying to hear him complain later because he forgot his dumb present.”

Stretching himself the male thus considered the conversation ended. The taunting smile from earlier falling off like a mask as he returned his eyes to the screen.

You, in the meanwhile, had been quiet, for once taking in his taunts with something else than contempt as you kept your eyes trained on him.

“I did have plans,” you started, gauging his reaction as you pull one of the meals Kiyoko had bought towards you, “I was supposed to hang out with some friends,” you shrug. Tsukishima’s expression remained as bored as it had been before, not seeming any more invested or impressed.

Somewhere you could swear that there was a pout on Tsukishima’s face, but for what you couldn’t really tell.

[chaoswillcalmusdown]

Title: saw your face and got inspired Pairing: Mohammed Razzouk/Amira Thalia Mahmood Summary: Amira’s getting ready for another year of university when she meets a special someone who knocks her fully off her feet. My @yousanaexchange gift for the awesome, super sweet and super smart @thickskinandelasticheart I tried really hard to make it enemies-to-lovers as per your request but it might be a bit more of dumbasses-to-lovers. Either way, I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing it. Special shout out to @naslostcontrol for reading it over and making sure it was fit for public consumption 😊

It's not like Amira planned to end up in this situation, it just kind of spiraled out of control. She's never been scared to speak up or voice her opinion, but she's realising that they've been arguing for 15 minutes at this point and the rest of the group is starting to shift in their seats and look at their phones. Amira takes a deep breath, then stares into Mohammed's frustratingly sparkly eyes and calmly says, "Look, I just don't think it's fair to demand emotional labour from oppressed groups in order to educate those who don't give a single shit." She shrugs and then looks over at Faizal, the president, and says, "Uhm, sorry, this really wasn't relevant for the meeting."

She can see from the corner of her eye that Mohammed's head is tilted as he stares her down from across the room. As if she's going to be intimidated by that? What a dick.

Faizal smirks, rolling his eyes, "oh, so we're allowed to move on now? You're finished now?"

Amira smiles angelically, simply adding, "Yep."

The meeting was supposed to be about what kinds of educational events the islamic society wants to do, and Amira thinks all the suggested options cater way too much to the Alman desire rather than intra community issues and needs. She's honestly sick and tired of having to sit through the same kinds of panels discussing whether or not islam is actually feminist/sexist/peaceful/violent/homophobic and so on, she's sick of force-feeding Almans hours of information and sharing her lived experiences only to be met with the same kind of liberal 'color blindness' bullshit she's faced since kindergarten. She deals with enough of that from her fellow students, professors, even the girls from time to time. The islamic society was supposed to be a place where she could chill and hang out with "her people". Faizal decides that they'll postpone the decision making another few weeks and in the meantime asks everyone to make sure they send in suggestions, so the future votes can be as democratic as possible.

Amira takes that as a slight dig, because she knows her opinions aren't really popular among the group. She came into the society looking for friends from within the community but she's managed to clash with most of the group in some way, either with her views or more likely the way she presents them. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be honest. She honestly understands the point of inclusive or educational events, but she would just love it if they could do something else as well. She'd love for them to go beyond what makes the university look good and woke, and do some important things. Create real change. The way German society still isn't okay with hijabis in certain careers is only one of the issues that she's passionate about, but the rest of the society seem to be fine with focusing their attention and resources on holding Eid barbecues and islamic panels where everyone always agrees on everything. She wants to do something that makes a difference. Something that matters. Maybe this society isn't the place for her, after all? Maybe Amira should be focusing more on the campus political parties in the next semester? The meeting wraps up and there are always snacks at the end, so Amira pours herself some tea and grabs a pastry. It's only Tuesday but her mum's been texting her all day about coming to the mosque this Friday. She's really running out of excuses that aren't the truth, but it feels too complicated and ungrateful to put into text and send to her mother, so she just replies with an affirmative.

Faizal comes over to her, giving her a fond but exasperated look. "Dude, I know you've gotta be tough to handle politics, but like. I think you need to relax just a tad. You-" He cuts himself off when someone walks behind Amira to get to the cups. "So, now you've met our charming Amira, eh?" he says to this person, grinning way too widely for Amira's comfort. Sure enough, she turns around and is face to face with Mohammed. He's frustratingly perfect-looking up close, even though his hair is stupidly swoopy and his eyebrows are huge. He's grinning at Faizal in a way that feels condescending as hell. Awesome. Amira sighs, ready to say something mean so she can excuse herself from this entire narrative.

But Mohammed beats her to it. "Yeah," he says softly, this time directed at her rather than at Faizal, "The girl with the coldest gaze." Amira really doesn't like his tone. It's condescending and smug. "It's been an enlightening but terrifying first encounter, Frau Bundeskanzlerin." He mimes a tiny bow, still fucking smirking, and then walks off. What a dick.

- - - - -

Amira has a lot going on in her life. Apart from her combined history and political science degree and her part time tutoring job, she's a sister, a daughter, a friend, and apparently a severely underpaid life coach. She's sat with Sam and Matteo in the campus coffee shop, drowning their sorrows in pastry and trying to get some work done at the same time. She attempts to listen intently to Matteo's latest crisis while she watches Sam sketching for a project. There's something going on with knitting and apparently it's all about dimensions and angles. It's kind of interesting, honestly, with the geometry of it all. But it's mostly making her feel a bit dizzy because of how circular Matteo's anxieties are.

Amira can't help but interrupt, "Matteo, habibi, you know I love you?"

"But shut the fuck up?" he asks self-deprecatingly, scrunching his face up, still dragging one hand harshly through his hair.

"Hä? No, no. I was going to say that we've had this exact conversation before. And, remember how I told you that there's nothing wrong with going to therapy, even just to try it out."

Matteo clenches his jaw, dragging his hand down his face, then letting it drop limply onto the tabletop. He'd gone once during his gap year, but after he'd decided to study programming he claimed he felt "much better" so he never went back. David's been worrying about him, and has tried to involve Amira in his plan to get Matteo to therapy. Along the way they've found that it's truly not possibly to get Matteo to do anything Matteo does not want to do. Amira still prays that he'll find peace and get help, but she's really stopped nagging him. However, when he brings up feeling overwhelmed and frustrated she can't help but speak up and repeat the suggestion. Maybe he'll eventually take the advice.

David arrives and drops down next to Matteo. He's working on a short film outside of his studies and is currently storyboarding, which of course means that Matteo is going to do anything he can to disturb the creative process. It might be cute how they devolve into play fighting even after multiple years, but Amira honestly just finds it ridiculous. Sam is asking about Amira's studies, nodding along to Amira's story about the world's most boring professor, when the impossible happens. Mohammed walks up to the table, wearing the cafe's  apron, asking if they've got any empty cups they want to get rid of. Sam thanks him, being friendly in a normal way. Amira's just frozen. Before he leaves, he gestures to Amira's full black outfit complete with black nails, then to her phone which is lying on the table with the case side up, proudly stating 'Black is my happy colour' and says, "Black suits you." Then he turns and jauntily walks into the back, with his tray of dirty mugs. Amira can feel her face heat, which in turn pisses her off. Thankfully, at least no one else can tell she's blushing.

"God, what a dick," Amira huffs.

"Hä? Amira!" Sam laughs. "He didn't even say anything bad?!"

"He commented on my looks? Is that seriously necessary?"

"God, Amira, don't be such a manhater. He was just appreciating your aesthetic. I'm sure he's a totally nice guy. I mean, he's really attractive, and you know incels are always fucking ugly."

Matteo apparently tunes into the conversation at this point, "hey! What's this about hating men? Men are totally awesome!"

Amira narrows her eyes at him, gesturing to where he's stretched across David, keeping him from his sketchbook and holding David's pen high in the air so David won't be able to reach it.

Matteo straightens up, puts David's pen back. David grabs it with a wink in Amira's direction. "I mean, sure, we're stupid, but all men aren't?"

- - - - -

Whenever she says she's busy, Amira's mum gets annoyed with her, so Amira finds herself at a random event at her local mosque. There's some kind of lecture, and then supposedly there'll be food after. Amira can't help but notice that neither of her brothers were nagged into attending, but that's fine. She's somewhat excited to see the girls she used to hang out with all the time, but now only really sees occasionally at the mosque. Or at someone's wedding, which there have been a lot of. She's officially the last one out of her Sunday school group to be married, not that she would have expected anything less. Aunties have always told her she'd have a hard time finding a man to put up with her "strong opinions".

Amira grabs a mug of tea, and is about to scan the room for her girls when an older couple appear. She vaguely knows who they are, thinks they're parents of one of Omar's friends from school. She says hi, and tries to make some polite small talk. Then, the woman goes, "Oh, we heard your brother's getting married!" and Amira realises what's about to happen. She pastes on a polite smile and replies, trying to look around for someone who can save her from this conversation. The husband continues on to jokingly ask if she's next, and Amira keeps the smile on her face when she says, "Oh, I'm focusing on my career first. I still have another a bit left until I graduate." The wife pats her husbands arm and points out that Amira is studying politics. He chuckles and asks, "Are you still doing that? And what are you going to use that degree for? Are you planning on being the first German chancellor with a hijab? While somehow managing a family, as well?" They both chuckle, in a kind of 'oh how silly of her' way. The wife says, "No, Amira, habibi, I think it's great that you're getting yourself educated. They always say that an educated woman teaches a whole village."

Amira sighs, draining her mug. "I don't know about a whole village," she laughs dryly, then says a somewhat polite goodbye and hightails it out of there. When Amira finds her friends, Nadia's talking about her new husband, complaining that he expected her to know what to buy his mother for a 50th birthday present. Someone else is laughing and saying, "Well, wasn't he always a bit distracted?" Amira remembers him well from school and cannot imagine that he has since grown out of his fuck-boy phase into a good husband. While the girls chat about their awful spouses, Amira's attention drifts and she somehow ends up on Mohammed. With a woman in a hijab and two younger kids. She feels a bit unsettled, even worse when they lock eyes across the room and Amira feels her face heat. Mohammed looks confused but then gives a tiny wave before he turns back to the kids.

When Amira snatches her eyes back onto her friends, everyone's looking at Amira. "Hä, sorry?"

Nadia rolls her eyes, "We were just wondering if there's anyone special in your life?"

Amira barks out a laugh, "Wow, no, I'm way too young to get married." She might have forgotten to censor herself there for a second. "Um, I mean, I'm going to graduate first, but I'm looking into post-grad right now, so. It's not a priority yet."

- - - - -

Amira gets home from the mosque annoyed. Over the weekend she goes to a boxing class, and afterwards decides to focus on her studies, and figure out what she's going to do about the islamic society and everything else later. And what she's going to do about everyone at the mosque constantly asking her about her future, all now that your brother is getting married, isn't it your turn next, dear? She's got a few really interesting classes going on at the moment and she heads to her first tutorial which is on European politics. She sees a few familiar faces and chats until the professor shows up and they all file into the room and pull out all their notes. Amira's rooting around in her bag for a pen to lend to her neighbour, when she hears the door open and a smooth voice say, "sorry I'm late". The professor, a really nice but very old white man chuckles and says, "no worries, we haven't quite started yet." Amira reflexively looks over to see who it was, locks eyes with Mohammed, and firmly looks away. This is fine. There are always new people in tutorials, and sometimes you recognise them from around campus. No big deal. Amira passes the pen along and logs onto her computer. She's always been an achiever, and she's not planning on letting herself get distracted by anything. As always, she raises her hand to answer the first question the professor asks, but is surprised when she looks over and sees Mohammed already raising his hand and speaking. Even worse, he's saying the exact thing Amira was going to say. She drops her hand, cracking her neck and stretching out her shoulders, and makes sure to be the first one to raise her hand at the next opportunity instead. Game on.

- - - - -

As much as Amira tries to focus and center herself on what she's trying to achieve, her education and all the things that matter in her life, she can't help but feel unsettled. Every time she has a politics class, Mohammed is just there, raising his hand a split second before Amira and constantly just arguing and disagreeing with her. Whenever she goes to an islamic society meeting, Mohammed is there and yet again, frustrating her and disagreeing with her. She keeps up with her routine, prays and goes to boxing with Sam or Hanna, and tutors, and studies. But she keeps getting distracted, while studying and while praying and even while boxing. All because of one annoying guy. She's heading over to her brothers' shared apartment on a Friday night to drop off a text book for Essam on her way to Mia's place for "girls wine and cheese night". She's got two essays almost due and would genuinely love to get a start on those, but the girls won't let her sit at home on a Friday night while doing research for school. Sam had said it's out of the question, mom.

Essam opens the door, while stuffing his face with pizza. Amira plops her bag down on the floor by the door and shakes out her shoulders. When she looks up, Essam's got a confounded look on his face, "Are you carrying around bricks?!"

"I wish," Amira mutters pulling out the book he needed and dropping it on the ground, letting it thunk. "Gimme some pizza."

Essam snorts and gestures into the apartment, "Bad week?"

"You don't even know. The most annoying guy is in my class. And literally everywhere I look. Such a fucking pain in the-" They turn the corner into the open plan kitchen-dining-living room, and who's sitting at the breakfast bar, handsomely typing away at a computer? Mohammed, of course. At this point, Amira should be fucking expecting it.

Essam grabs Amira a slice and, upon seeing her bewildered face, goes, "Oh, you haven't met! This is my pal, Mohammed, he's the guy who's gonna take over Omar's room after he gets married. My soulmate, yadda yadda."

Mohammed smiles at Amira, "We've met, actually," he says. Amira swallows around her bite, trying to smile since she can't speak due to the chewing. "Through the islamic society," Mohammed adds, shrugging. Amira tries to read off his face whether he heard her ranting as she entered, or not. He doesn't look very offended, so she figures he probably did not.

"Huh," Essam says, nodding. He turns to Amira, "Hey, sorry, you were venting. Something about a really annoying guy?"

Mohammed leaves about twenty minutes later, apparently heading home for dinner. Amira waits approximately 2 seconds after she hears the door close, until she's rounding in on Essam. "How did you not tell me about Mohammed?!" She demands, not realising how ridiculous that sounds, until it's too late. Essam stares at her like she grew a third eye.

"I don't tell you every time I make a friend, Litschi! What the hell?"

Amira shakes her head, pacing. "That's Mohammed," she says. Essam nods, looking towards confusedly at the now closed front door. "No, Fruchtzwerg, it's Mohammed. The annoying guy who appears in every fucking part of my life, and frustrating the hell out of me. It's Mohammed."

"Oh shit."

- - - - -

Essam's confused about the entirety of Amira's story, because Mohammed never argues and Mohammed's the nicest guy ever and most confusingly Mohammed? Is in the islamic society committee? Really? Amira's at a loss. Essam claims to know the guy, but either he doesn't know anything about him or Mohammed's just different with different people. And that's always a bad sign when it comes to guys. Obviously guys lie, and Amira's had enough interactions with guys from all over the place to know not to trust one at first sight. Not that she would want to trust Mohammed for any reason. She just doesn't want her brother to be scammed or anything. It would suck for Essam if Mohammed turns out to be a shitty person.

Amira eats most of Essam's pizza while she fumes over Mohammed's occupation into yet another aspect of her life. She really doesn't know how she's supposed to handle all this exposure to his dumb face. And then Essam points out that Mohammed's going to be in Omar's wedding, so Amira needs to somehow settle a truce with the guy, which is just perfect.

That Sunday marks some anniversary of Kiki and Carlos' which requires a house party. Amira arrives after her prayer with some vegetarian pizzas from down the road. She catches David and Matteo chatting, or probably more likely making out, right inside the front door, and then gets encased in a monster hug from Sam. They chat over pizza, and then, who comes through the door after Jonas? At this point, it should not even surprise her. Mohammed walks through into the living room, waving awkwardly as he gets introduced to everyone. Sam and David seem to already know him, and Matteo, too. Amira is just lost. Even more surprisingly, Essam walks in after them. He waves excitedly at Amira, and Amira really longs for a time where all the different parts of her life were neatly compartmentalised and never met each other at house parties. Next, she's gonna have to introduce her parents to Kirlos or something equally ridiculous.

"He's very cute, huh?" Sam asks Amira, jabbing her playfully with her elbow. Amira rolls her eyes reflexively. "Oh come on, Amira, he's cute. And he's wholesome. You always say I need to date more wholesome men."

Amira shrugs. "But you know a lot of arabs are racist," she mumbles, taking a swig of Pepsi to calm her suddenly agitated nerves.

Sam snorts, "Yeah, thanks, I know. I can be careful, mom."

Kiki and Mia walk over, with Kiki looking between Amira and then Essam and Mohammed. "The blond guy was waving like he knows you," Kiki points out, while Amira curses Essam's entire personality and existence, "Are these guys like your relatives?"

Sam busts out giggling, asking Amira in a silly voice, "Do you know all the arabs in Berlin, Amira dear?" When Kiki looks shocked, she adds, "No, Kiki, I'm kidding, don't worry, sorry, sorry," all while still giggling. Amira thinks back to the time when Kiki had asked Sam if she and boy Sam were related.

"Ha-ha," Amira mutters. "I actually do know them, though. The blond one is, unfortunately my brother."

"No way!" Mia gasps, slapping Amira's shoulder. "You're nothing alike."

"Alhamdulillah," Amira mumbles, setting Sam off into another bout of giggles. Mia smiles, but manages to restrain herself. Amira huffs, adjusting her scarf. "No, he's not that bad… he's just loud? He's my younger brother so of course he annoys me".

"What about the other guy," Mia asks, "You know him, too?"

Sam hums, "Hot, right?"

Mia's appraising Amira very intently and Amira really hates it. She shrugs, "He's a friend of Essam's, I don't know him very well."

Essam appears at her shoulder with Mohammed in tow, and they all get introduced. Essam flirts way too much with Kiki, and Amira tries to melt into the ground with secondhand embarrassment. Eventually Carlos drifts over, probably to show Essam that Kiki is taken, which is just cringe worthy on its own. Amira catches Mohammed's eye just as Carlos wraps his arm firmly over Kiki's shoulders and Kiki looks back at him confused. Mohammed looks like he's trying really hard not to laugh, and he raises his eyebrows, pinching his lips together. Amira shrugs, mouth lifting into a smile before she can stop herself. She pulls her eyes away, anywhere else. Her eyes settle on Jonas trying to teach Matteo some chords on the guitar, and Hanna chatting animatedly with David in the corner next to them. Then, she overhears someone daring to besmirch the name of Mohamed Salah. She looks up, locking eyes with a grinning Mohammed. Carlos is saying something ridiculous about Manchester United, and Amira truly cannot believe the joy she's seeing in Mohammed's eyes. Or the way he's confidently nodding along with Carlos' unbelievably incorrect rant. Sam and Mia look lost, but Essam's grinning gleefully at Amira. As the middle child in a family of strong opinions, he's grown up to become the most neutral person Amira knows, and watches sports mostly to see how riled up Amira and Omar get. "You must have an opinion on this, Litschi, as someone who has a life-sized cardboard cutout of Mo Salah in their room?" Essam's making himself sound like a beat reporter, looking around the group to make sure he has everyone's attention.

Amira clenches her jaw, knowing that she'll never live that nickname down now that the girls have heard it. She can see Sam mouthing it, looking delighted. "You bought me that cut-out, Fruchtzwerg, but yes, I do have an opinion on Mo Salah, the best football player of this generation."

Her argument doesn't quite convince the boys, but then her Maghrib alarm goes off and she slips away to Kirlos' bathroom followed by their bedroom. She's perhaps making a lot of effort to walk without stomping, but having to be at a party with her idiot brother is just really fraying on her nerves. She's never had to interact with him and her friends at the same time. She knows that he thinks she's acting weird, and so will the girls, probably. The'll think she's too harsh on him, or something. Amira's really not a massive fan of praying in her friends' bedrooms, but it's better than a bathroom so she'll take it. She can hear literally everything that's going on in the party, the bass vibrating the walls and floor, and honestly doesn't know how she's meant to be able to focus on anything except that new Zara Larsson song that Kiki's doing a cover of.

When she walks back into the living room, she can't help but feel frustrated about the way she always misses random chunks of parties. She'll come back from praying and catch the girls in a joke that falls flat when they try to explain it to her. You had to be there sometimes feels like the story of her life. The groups have rearranged since she left. Kirlos have ended up on the sofa, with Sam and Mia still talking to Mohammed, while Essam seems to be bonding with Matteo. God help them all. Amira walks over to Sam, because she's still holding Amira's drink. Not for any other reason. She can't help herself, so she asks Mohammed if he's not going to go pray, knowing full well that Essam won't. His smile falters, but he shrugs and says, "I'm not really going to bother in these circumstances," gesturing at the loudness of the party.

Amira can hear Essam's carefree laughter, bristles at the ease and lack of tension in Mohammed's shoulders and she truly doesn't mean to, but she ends up saying, "So you just pray when it's convenient for you?"

Amira can hear Sam make a noise of awkwardness next to her, and she knows she's out of line, knows she has a tendency to attack first, but she's bone-tired and frustrated and nothing she does or is expected to do is ever easy or convenient.

Mohammed, eyes hard, replies, "I thought Islam taught you not to judge. And I don't know if you know, but Germany has laws that regulate a person's right to practice religion how they want, or not practice at all, thank you very fucking much." He looks disappointed at her, which hurts more than she'd like. And then he turns and leaves. Amira feels like the whole party has quieted down, like everyone saw that, but in reality only Sam and Mia did. Though Essam will probably hear about it later.

"Ouff," Sam whines, "Amira, that was harsh".

Amira groans. "You okay?" Mia asks, looking concerned. Amira sighs, squishing her eyes shut.

"Fuck."

"You look like you need a drink," Sam points out. Amira laughs, desperately. "Let's make you a fabulous mocktail. I'm too tipsy to solve anything right now."

- - - - -

Amira wakes up in stages, first noticing the offensive brightness of the room, and burrowing deeper into the covers to try and avoid facing the day. She and Mia went home with Sam and ended up falling asleep and Amira can hear Sam and Mia chatting away, though in hushed tones. She can't help but groan as she stretches. It's far too early.

"Morning, Litschi!" Mia calls, and Amira groans louder. She forgot about that.

The girls let her wake up while they get some tea and wrangle together breakfast. Amira stares at the ceiling and pointedly does not check her phone. She does, however, get up to pee and then pray. When she gets back the girls have managed a decent spread with the leftovers in Sam's fridge.

"We should talk about Mohammed," Sam points out. Mia nods. "You were really mean." Mia nods again.

"You like him, don't you?" Mia's got her knees up, chin resting on them. Amira sputters in response.

"That's a yes!" Sam cheers, giggling.

"It's not," Amira sighs. "He's just a douchebag. Like, he's so flippant about important stuff. Like religion. And he's constantly appearing everywhere I go and annoying me."

"But you still went off on him pretty harshly," Mia points out.

"Maybe he's not muslim?" Sam suggests.

Amira shrugs, mutters, "if he's not then I definitely won't like him but he's in the islamic society, so I doubt that's actually the case. Even though he's maybe not a very good muslim."

"He's there, too? Like, is he stalking you, or?"

Amira sighs, shaking her head, "No, he's just in the islamic society and in my politics class and living in my brother's apartment, and also apparently he now goes to my mosque, too?!"

"Don't forget he's pals with Jonas, too," Sam mentions, laughing. "Listen, there must be a reason this handsome but annoying man has entered your life. Maybe you just need some patience."

Amira groans, but Sam pushes on, "No, Amira, you always hate guys on sight. Like with Alex," she gestures at Mia and Amira does feel bad because she's never really owned up to that, "or with Jonas, with Stefan. Guys lie and all that."

Amira honestly can't argue with that, and she hates it. Mia's been quiet for a while, and looking thoughtful, but she then gets this sparkle in her eyes. Amira hates that even more.

Later that day Mia texts her:

(Not to play devil's advocate but, don't you think it's possible that you're hiding a bit behind the 'bad muslim' thing? Because I think you guys have some incredible chemistry)

That text might haunt Amira for a while, even if she sends Mia a very stern reply.

- - - - -

Amira's chatting to her dad on the phone later that night, and she'd been trying to finish her assigned reading for the week but she kept getting distracted. She honestly felt pretty shitty about how she'd treated Mohammed. She'd had a whole heap of small frustrations building up and she had just accidentally unleashed them all straight into his bothersome face even though most of her frustrations were not at all his fault. She knew she had to apologise, and she genuinely wanted to but she struggled admitting to her brothers that she'd gotten an actor wrong because she hates being wrong. She's always right, so she's really not good at admitting fault.

"Amira, habibi, are you doing something else while we're talking?"

"Huh? Sorry, dad, I'm just a little distracted."

"Ah, I see, well, tell your old man and he can solve all your troubles."

"Hah, thanks, dad. I don't know if you can solve it, though. I was pretty rude to someone for no reason and now I have to apologise to them."

Amira's dad hums. "Was this the same boy as the annoying one in the islamic society that your mum told me about?"

"Yes," Amira mutters. Her parents truly seem to not keep any secrets from each other.

"Hah, well, you've always been very proud, kiddo. I always loved that about you. You know your worth and you don't take shit from anyone. But, before you get too comfortable, you're also terrible at admitting when you're wrong."

"Wow, thanks, dad."

"You get that from your mum, you know. I truly do think it's a good thing, but I hope you don't feel like you always have to be perfect. You've always been strong but it's good to be vulnerable, too. It's hard, sure, but good things do happen when you let your guard down just a tad."

"Ugh, dad, that was so sentimental."

Her dad laughs, "Yes, habibi, I know, I know. Let's switch topics. Tell me about the lecture you had this morning."

- - - - -

Amira is really not in the mood for an event, but even she can agree on the importance of this specific one. It's taken a lot of organisation for everything to work out, and it involves 4 societies (which is also partly why David is involved) and spans a month with one focus each week. This week's fundraising focus is the charity Jonas volunteers for, which does a lot of work with refugee integration in Berlin. She arrives a bit earlier because she promised David and Jonas she would, even though her mother is frustrated with her for not coming to the mosque for some kind of "women in islam" lecture held by a panel of men. Kiki's asking the group chat for a pre-party and since Amira is arriving at the club, she just turns the sound off and heads in, following the music to where she expects to at least find Jonas. She sees Matteo and David hanging out by the stage, where Jonas of course is sat on a stool with his guitar. Jonas sees her and calls her over and while she's approaching she takes in the other figures in the room. She mostly sees people she's never seen or people she's possibly passed on campus before. But then she sees Mohammed standing behind Jonas, by the mic, singing quietly and chatting to Jonas about something, brows drawn. He doesn't seem to notice her, so she keeps approaching.

"Study partner!" Matteo whisper-calls out, turning around to grab and open a coke bottle for Amira, "come join the soundcheck squad."

Amira accepts the drink and asks what they're up to, trying to avoid Mohammed's eyes now burning into the side of her head from where he's still chatting to Jonas.

David wiggles his eyebrows at her, "oh, we're just waiting for the jam session to pick back up. They weren't sure on which key to use, or something nerdy like that." He turns to look at Mohammed, who rolls his eyes, but Jonas starts playing. The room is filling up, there are a few people working behind the bar and some others decorating and moving tables around. Everyone's chatting to themselves and no one is really paying any attention to the stage, where Amira assumes the boys ended up helping Jonas with "soundcheck" in order to avoid manual labour. Amira truly hates being a cliche, but when she first hears Mohammed's voice, goosebumps erupt along her arms. She crosses them across her chest, gripping the coke bottle. David's swaying along and he and Matteo whoop encouragingly at certain notes and lyrics. Amira can't help but grin at their contagious hype, but when she turns her attention back to the stage, Mohammed's looking straight at her. She can't help but swallow, caught out, but looks right back, never one to back down.

Dragging along, follow in your form

Hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn

Remember me, love, when I'm reborn

As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

Amira can feel her face flushing as she narrows her eyes at Mohammed. He just smirks back at her, and finishes the song. The boys clap and cheer so loudly that they draw the attention of some official looking person with a clipboard, who sighs and huffs and splits them up. David and Matteo grab Amira to head towards the back and David turns on the way to yell some more compliments towards the stage. As they walk, David hums, "You know, Hozier is a man that I'm sure you would agree is an exception to the general rule of male shittiness."

Matteo snorts, mutters, "fucking Hozier…" but David carries on. "He doesn't write boring love songs. He doesn't get intimidated by confident women. To be honest, he loves a strong and terrifying woman-"

Matteo interjects to say, "It's one of those 'choke m-'" but thankfully gets interrupted by David clapping a hand over his mouth before Amira needs to bleach her entire brain and soul.

David sighs and hands Matteo a box of string lights that are supposed to go up somewhere. Matteo takes them with a wink and walks back into the event room. David shrugs, looking at Amira. "Anyways, Mo's got a good voice, right? I keep telling him, but he acts like it's no big deal."

Amira immediately feels suspicious. "How do you all know each other?"

"Huh? Oh, Jonas met him at some kind of open mic, jam thing. I don't really know. And then Jonas and Matteo, you know. We went to one of Jonas' gigs and Mohammed was there." David gestures in an encompassing way, like he's trying to say the rest is history.

- - - - -

The girls all arrive and 'ooh and ah' over how magical the location looks. Amira has to admit that it's nice, even if she's slightly on edge due to how often she keeps bumping into Mohammed while turning a corner. Sam happens to be next to her one of these times and she sighs and goes, "He's so charming. How is he so charming?!" Amira sighs and switches subjects by asking about Sam's nephew, which is honestly the most effective subject change ever. She even gets adorable baby photos out of it.

Later on she's walking from the bar with Mia, when Jonas announces a new song and Amira spots Mohammed by the stage. Based on earlier, she really can't handle another song so she slips away into the back garden. She can see Mia shrugging and looking questioningly at her through the large open doors, but she plants her feet and starts up a conversation with a girl she knows from her European History class. A few minutes later, Mia appears at her side, looking like the cat that got the cream. Amira tries to drag the conversation out, but she and this girl, Anna?, really don't have much in common so she leaves shortly after. Mia's arms are crossed, shit-eating red lipped grin and all.

"How's it going with Mohammed?" she asks.

Amira huffs, assuring Mia that there is nothing going, but she'll apologise when she gets a moment, thank you very much. Of course this is when Amira's Maghrib alarm goes off. Mia looks like she wants to protest, but in the end she realises she can't really argue with it so she just gives Amira her unimpressed tm look when Amira starts backing away, to find somewhere to pray. She was planning to scout out a good location while helping to set up earlier, but Mohammed had ruined those plans for her by distracting her with his face and voice. She asks one of the bartenders and gets led to the staff room, which has an adjacent but tiny bathroom. She's honestly had to settle for worse, even if the staff room could really use a lockable door. She decides to just hurry, and hope no one interrupts her.

Afterwards, she feels centred and calm, like always. She touches up her makeup, and quickly checks her phone. Sam's sent multiple messages to the group chat, the most recent being:

omg how sexy is mohammed's singing voice?! how is he so charming???????

Amira pockets her phone as she opens the door, but hits something. She pauses for a second and tries again. This time the door opens smoothly. Standing on the other side, running a hand through his stupid hair, is Mohammed.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I was heading to the bathroom and one of the bartenders was about to head in, so I-" He waves a hand at the door.

"Oh," Amira can't help but feel stunned, because she definitely doesn't deserve that level of consideration from him of all people. They stand in a slightly awkward silence, Amira looking everywhere except at Mohammed. She realises she's being a bit childish about it so she squares up, clears her throat. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry about my behaviour." She dares a glance up at Mohammed's face. He looks annoyingly smug, arms crossed over his chest. He waits her out, smirking. "I perhaps judged you a bit early. And harshly. It's.. It doesn't happen ever, really, but, I guess… I was wrong. Sorry."

Mohammed nods slowly, looking off to the side. "No harm done. So, listen-"

The door separating the club space from the staff space slams open and a frazzled bartender startles at the sight of them, looks confused. Amira takes this as a perfect opportunity, explaining herself, "Oh, sorry, I was just praying, you know," while gesturing at the locker room behind her and also her head. When the bartender nods, still confused, Amira hurries out to find the girls.

- - - - -

Amira's back at her parents' house for a weeknight dinner. She's helping set the table because her parents don't want her near the food, but she also does not want to sit and chat at the table since Essam's started the night by badgering her about Mohammed in front of their mother.

"Seen Mohammed any more?" Essam asks with a grin when Omar arrives. Amira sends him a look that could kill from across the table. Her dad perks up, "Oh, Mohammed's a good kid. You know Mohammed, Amira?"

Amira sighs, "Yeah, we have a class together, and some friends in common."

At this, Omar looks thoughtful. "You'd like Mohammed," he says, as if it's only just occurring to him, as if the gears are starting to turn.

Her dad latches onto this idea, "Yeah, that's a good point! You're very similar, Amira, stubborn but very smart." He pats her on the shoulder as he walks back into the kitchen to help their mother with the cooking.

When Amira walks back with a stack of plates, Essam's gleefully feeding Omar blackmail material about how Amira had unfairly snapped at poor Mohammed in front of everyone. "I was planning to try and convince them to date but Amira hates him."

"Hä? What did he do?"

"Thanks, Essam," Amira sighs, "He didn't do anything, he was just arguing in favour of stupid shit, and-"

"Like what?"

"Just… He keeps advocating for inclusive events in the islamic society. Having all our events open for everyone even though that always means a whole bunch of people appear and demand us to hold them by the hand and explain every single thing that's going on. Every single event. I'm sick and tired of having to educate ignorant white Germans who can't just google it. That's not why I joined the islamic society."

Omar hums. "Mohammed grew up in Syria, you know," he points out. "He didn't have to grow up in a country full of Almans who know nothing about islam and require hand-holding. So, maybe he just has a higher tolerance for that than we do?"

It's a fully reasonable argument, which Amira kind of hates. She hasn't really ever asked Mohammed anything, barely even spoken to him except to argue with him or be hostile to him. "Yeah, okay, sure. We're just not compatible people, that's all." Essam snorts. "Listen, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not going to ever date a guy who isn't a proper muslim, so that's that. Leave it."

They both look confused. "What do you mean 'not compatible'? And why would you think Mohammed's not religious? He's in the islamic society, isn't he?"

Amira shrugs, "He doesn't pray? He's- I don't know, Essam said-"

"I was surprised he was on the committee, because he's been struggling. But what even is a proper muslim, Amira?" Essam asks, with a grimace. "If Mohammed isn't then I've barely been one lately either, but you don't hate me for it?!"

"No, of course I don't hate you."

"You said my crisis was valid, and I can assure you that Mohammed's was valid, too. Is this why you snapped at him?"

Amira groans, "I don't hate him… I just. Lost my temper, I don't know why. It wasn't like I snapped on purpose. He just aggravates me. He just keeps aggravating me for no good reason." She realises she's been gesturing pretty aggressively, so she drops her shoulders and lets her hands fall to her side. "What do you want me to say?"

"Oh my god, you like him."

- - - - -

Of course, it all comes to a head at Omar and Nour's Henna night. The girls have all been invited and some of the boys (specifically Jonas and Carlos). Amira had tried to convince her brothers that she absolutely did not have any feelings for Mohammed, but it seemed as if she was not very convincing. At least, she managed to get them both to agree to leave her alone and definitely not mention anything about it to the guy in question. And Amira knows they wouldn't dare cross her. During the night she has managed to mostly avoid the aunties and uncles that have been giving her far too wide smiles all night, and she's managed to duck out of several conversations before she had anyone ask her when's your turn, habibi and ended up snapping at anyone. She's chatting to Jonas and Hanna in a decently secluded corner, teaching Jonas the accurate pronunciation of all the sweets he's eating. He's shockingly good at it, and he's really pleased about that fact.

Then, there's a tap on her shoulder. Hanna's eyes widen, and she gently but firmly drags Jonas away. Amira feels this sense of doom impending, but she's also got a few hardcore butterflies appearing in the depths of her stomach. She turns, and there's Mohammed. He's got a piece of baklava in the palm of his upturned hand and he grins at her.

"Frau Bundeskanzlerin," he mutters, doing a really douche-y bow. Amira can't help but laugh, and glances around the room. God, everyone can see this, Amira thinks, even though realistically no one is looking in their direction, but instead talking to the future bride and groom.

"What's your deal?" is what comes out of her mouth.

Mohammed snorts, smile faltering just a little, "my deal?"

"It's really not cute to be flirting with a girl if you're not even fucking religious, you know. Do you know how fucking impossible and rare it is to even have decent interactions with men as a hijabi without them wanting to save or objectify you? It's literally not something that happens. I am sick and tired-"

"Wow," Mohammed mutters, though grinning, popping the piece of baklava he was supposedly presenting Amira with into his mouth and chewing. "What have I done to deserve this utter annihilation?"

"What have you done? You're impossible to read. You're debating in the islamic society one day, then you're not a practicing muslim, then a day later you're in the mosque. What's your deal?"

Mohammed rolls his eyes, crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I'll hold a full length lecture on my relationship with islam in the morning, if you want, but as for what my deal is, I've been trying to ask you out on a date." He shrugs one shoulder, like it's obvious.

Amira splutters in surprise. "You've…. what?"

"It's not my fault you're distracting. You know, you're the one who's impossible. I've literally been in love with you since you gave me that stink eye in ISOC. I think you're amazing even though you're infuriating and judgemental as hell."

"Hmm, we'll agree to disagree."

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "What? No, we definitely won't! Come on!"

Amira notices, from the corner of her eye, that a few aunties and girls she knows from elementary school are taking an interest in them and then she realises how close they've drifted during their conversation. "Shit, people are looking at us."

Mohammed hums, looks around. He shrugs, takes a demonstrative step back. "There we go, much more appropriate."

Amira rolls her eyes, cheeks aching from smiling. "So, your method of flirting is just being oppositional, then?"

"Might be… It worked, though, right?" Amira snorts. "Maybe I should've been more direct and asked for an audience through your secretary?"

It shouldn't make Amira giggle, because it's not really funny, but she still giggles like a schoolgirl she definitely is not. "Hey, Mohammed?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to go out with me?"

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "I'd love to."

[tobrodachi]

Nice! My otome game scenario is writing itself up, as expected!

Synopsis: Saito Sakura, a woman working as an author for the famous VN company “N*tr*pl*s” is currently the main writer for an otome game scenario coming up. One night, during The Crunch, she collapses and wakes up in her game world! However, she wakes up as Adelina Fugo, the main villainess/pain-in-the-butt for the commoner protagonist Petra Saenz. Worse than that, since the storyboard was never completed, she’s only got a general idea of where the story’s headed in each of the four main routes, and they all lead up to exile or death of her character!

“Well, worse comes to worse, this all serves as inspiration for when I wake up!”

Tags: Female protagonist, dense protagonist, otome isekai, her hands are rated E for Everyone, we going ham with this bois.

Chapter 01/??:

The Crunch, or how I learned to stop worrying and love coffee.

My name is Saito Sakura, a 28 year old Visual Novel writer for N*tr*pl*s who’s currently struggling to make ends meet. Got myself a nice little apartment over at the Narita prefecture, got enough money for my daily expenses, and I love my job. But if my life is so rose-tinted, then why am I struggling?

Because, and let me be clear here, having all of those nice things means absolutely jackshit when you’re pulling a month-long work into a single week. Especially if it’s the third day of said week, with the blinds closed unless I want to invoke the Mother Of All Headaches, and haven’t slept for the past 72 hours and counting; all while subsisting on a diet based of vending machine potato chips, extra-salty tuna onigiri courtesy of my juniors, and an ungodly amount of that sweet, sweet nectar known to mankind as coffee.

Thank you, God of Coffee, for allowing us mere mortals to harvest your beans for our gain. For giving us the inspiration to think of new and innovative ways to prepare your juices, so that we can pair it up with other produce. Milk for the stomach, sugar for the heart, and cinnamon for the soul.

Mmmmm, spicy~! Just the way mama likes it.

“Excuse me, miss Saito.” a voice I couldn’t identify called out to me in the middle of my coffee break, accompanied by a hand clasping my shoulder at the same time.

Rude.

I blinked to get the fog out of my eyes, and fixed my stare at.... who was him again? All I can recall right now are names of characters and places that don’t exist (yet!), and this self-important NPC comes to talk to--

“Please, go back home and take a rest, we’ll cover for you.”

!!!!!!

I take back everything I said about you, my most favorite intern! May you be blessed by the God of Coffee for anything you may need, without suffering from stress-induced gastritis until you’re late in your 40′s~

“Thank you, but I still need to finish at least some sort of idea for the Childhood Friend route, and I’m still struggling to find ideas for that.” My mouth replied still in auto mode, while brain-me was still off in lala land----

Saito Sakura, you utter and absolute fool! How dare you let your heart dictate what your mouth says!? Apologize to me, dammit!

“As expected of our senior! Please, keep doing your best!” My most hated intern cheerfuly replied as he waved and went back to his work station.

Noooooooo~! Please come back and give me back my well-earned freedooooom~!

As I took another sip of coffee in disappointment, my mind went back to think about the southern regions of the Patagonia, while my fingers started moving on their own to an invsible script.

After what felt like hours, I look at the clock hands, and they’re still at 10. Is it morning? Night? I lost count of the pass of time after my 20th cup (and trust me, I kept count), with my own sleepiness never quite leaving the edges of my mind. And now, even the center.

Can’t.

Think.

The only thing keeping me awake is that burning sensation in at the lower part of my chest that seems to be coming from my stomach, and the sheer sensation of my heart wanting to grow legs and jump out of me. What’s worse is that the burning sensation isn’t even calming down, but rather going up; but I’ll take this over not finishing near the deadline.

My sight blurs once again, and I try to focus back to the screen.

The screen stays blurry.

It’s alright, I can still type, even if I can’t see the keystrokes, it’ll just be that intern’s job to figure out what I wanted to write~

Except, well, my hands stopped moving. Huh, fancy that. I can’t feel my hands anymore drumming their beat against the keyboard, so at least I’m assuming so.

I look back at the still blurry monitor, and I can see it’s coming closer to my face, aaaaaand it just went up and above my head, and ow, now besides having this really annoying burning feeling in my chest, I now also have a killer headache.

But on the flip side, now I’m also feeling really, really, warm and fluffy and wonderful.

Maybe I’ll stay like this for a few more minutes....

______________

“-o sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” A mop of brown curled hair doing its best impression of a person apologizing actually said to me while bowing down.

Wait, that’s actually a human person. Nevermind, carry on.

I scoffed and resisted the urge to yawn. Who does this girl think she is? Queen Anne? Puh-lease! Not with those clothes!

“Excuses, as expected of someone who doesn’t even know their place.” I replied, while picking myself off the ground-?

Wait, what was I doing on the ground in the first place? I find it unlikely I was taking a nap, I was just finishing admiring the great mountainous view of this campus---

Wait, that’s not it, I was in my office and then everything became blurry before---

I looked back at the talking mop herself, and she seemed even more apologetic than before. It seems she said something else before, but I didn’t pay attention to it. I gazed at my -gloved?- hands -whenever did I put gloves on?- and saw the silk fabric sullied by the gravel from the road. Seriously, a lady shouldn’t pick up herself like this!

“So, who are you supposed to be?” My voice sounds different- I ask to little miss mop over there, what a sorry view. But at least that question made her look up into my eyes.

Good, she’s got at least a semblance of backbone.

“M-my name--” She stuttered, aaaaaand what little respect she earned went down the drain. Doesn’t she have any self-respect? “-is Petra, Petra Saenz. I’m so sorry about---”

“Keep your mouth shut, and zip up your apologies.” I said -isn’t it rude, though?- haughtily because, again, how dare this imitation for a human try to go through life without affirming her presence?

I heard giggles around me, and turned my head to find my followers -wow, even a girl posse, nice- trying to hold their laughter at the situation. A quick glare fixed it, and they stopped the noises, clearly afraid of what may come. Good, it wouldn’t do to have anything else.

Turning back to the mop, she seemed even more cowed than before, as if expecting divine retribution, which may as well be what’s happening here.

“You’re talking to-” Saito Sakura, Saito’s the family name “-Adelina Fugo. Tennis Ace, Treasurer of the Student Council, and New York’s future Best Selling Author!” Wait, where did that come from?

Oh, wait, those were my goals when I was a kid!

But while those girls were nodding and clapping at my declaration, the mop looked more lost than ever, and this time I couldn’t even fault her.

“Uhm.... what’s New York?”

I’m asking myself the same here.

The other girls stopped clapping and looked at me expectantly.

I -want to rub my eyes and drink some coffee- pick up a flower-patterned fan I had hanging on my hip, before hiding my mouth with it.

“OOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” -damn, that felt good to do, even if it WAS hammy- I laugh before fanning myself.

“If you don’t know about it, then you’re not even fit to be in this school!” Can’t let them see me hesitate after such a blunder. My father won’t let me hear the end of it if he hears I backed down after such a ridiculous claim - wait, why would he have to hear it, I live alone - No, I don’t, I’m not even of age!

This is.....

so confusing......

A/N: Well, after reading one too many otome isekai web novels, I decided to try my hand at writing my own! If the synopsis catches your attention. I don’t know when I’ll update it, but I’m aiming for a once-a-month update schedule, both depending on response and my own workload.

This is still in its rough sketches, so the setting is bound to change eventually.

My first intention is to write a “transported to another world” where the protagonist lands herself in the middle of a visual novel she’s creating targeted towards women, where you can court any of 4 romantic interests, in this case boys. That, however, doesn’t mean that those won’t be her only options (if she ends up actually courting anyone).

Since I’m still worldbuilding, I wanted to get this introductory chapter out of the way before commiting to anything in the world.

I should definitely make a blog for this down the line

[littlemisssquiggles]

My one issue with your theory that Ruby will recieve a call from Qrow and so won't participate in the hunt for Oscar is that it was specifically shown that Ruby threw her scroll on the ground and it was never shown that she picked it back up, so she has no way to get a call from Qrow. Personally, I think Ruby will find Oscar, but then they'll run into trouble and have no way to contact the others for help.

Uhm…I’dlike to think that she would grab her Scroll at some point off-screen. Even if Ruby was seenchucking her Scroll back in V6 C8, it doesn’t necessarily mean that she’lljust leave it there. I’d like to think that Ruby snatched back up her Scroll atsome point off camera before leaving to join the search party.

Iespecially think Ruby having her Scroll on her wouldbe especially important now to a) keep in contact with JNR with tabs ontheir success or failure in finding out where Oscar might’ve gone and b) I feellike Oscar’s disappearance will make Ruby more urgent thanever to get in touch with her uncle. Ruby might want to find Qrow most of allnow since his ability to shapeshift and scout Argus from the air might give thegroup a better shot at finding Oscar quicker.

SoI feel like when V6 C9 cuts to RWBY + Maria’s side of the search, itcould show Ruby trying to get in touch with Qrow again to aid in the search andthat’s when she’ll most likely spot Qrow passed out drunk near a bar orsomething like that.

If there’s one thingI’m anticipating from next week’s episode, it’s Ruby and Qrow potentially having a squabbleover Oscar. I feel like an inevitable fallout betweenRuby and her uncle over his recent behaviour has been underway since V6 C4 which is coincidentally the same chapter where Qrow causedOzpin’s seclusion and where he also heartlessly implied that he didn’t think ofOscar as his own person and he said it right to the kid’s face and while Rubywas trying to comfort him no doubt.

Saywhat you will but you can say that Qrow more or lesskick-started this whole mess with Oscar. Sure Jaune’s behaviourcontributed to it but he was adding more salt to an issue that’s been thereever since Qrow’s harsh declaration forced Ozpin into his isolation withinOscar’s mind. Qrow technically started all of this and I feel likeRuby is going to end up being the one to pull him up for it. 

Especially if shecomes to solicit the Branwen man’s aid and rather than helping his niece findtheir missing comrade, Qrow downright refuses to find Oscar and to add more insult to injury, he further demeansOscar by implying something along the lines of abandoning him all together sincehe’s just another vessel for Oz.

I just want to see Qrow disregardOscar as a person yet again, this time going way too far and it sends Ruby offthe edge.

When have weever seen our titular rose angered to the point of unadulterated rage? This volume has trulybeen testing Ruby in terms of patience and how much she can take emotionally beforeshe pops. And Oscar’s disappearance only adds another layer to her stress.

Evenif Oscar left with possible good intentions---some theorists areplaying with the notion that Oscar left to go find Qrow on Ruby’s behalf sincehe acknowledged how worried she was before for her uncle’s safety---it stilldoesn’t help for Ruby’s rising distress levels. I feel like Ruby is going tolose her cool soon and in a similarfashion to how it was for Ozpin, it’ll be Qrow’s words that set her off.

Perhaps we’ll even get a parallelfrom C4 wherejust as how Qrow’s words made Ozpin give up, in a surprising twist, it’ll be Ruby’s words that turnsQrow completely apathetic.

Justas how Qrow told Ozpin that meeting him was the worst luck of his life, what if…Ruby tells Qrowthat he is nothing but a bad luck charm, cementing every negative sentimentQrow has ever felt about himself after hearing his own niece---the proclaimedspark of hope and inspiration---say those words to his face.

It’sone thing for Qrow to hear others expressed how cursed of an individual he is,can you imagine how cutting it willbe to hear his own niece---the one he felt the most connected to due to her being a remnant of the friend he onceloved---if Rubycalls Qrow a bad luck charm, I’m sure if it will sting him just ashard as his words hit Ozpin. Maybe even worst.

 Will it happen in canon?I dunno. This is only a hunch.

Do you knowwhat would be pretty cute? If after Qrow refuses to help, Ruby just storms off leavinghim to his own qualms. And while she does her best to withhold her tears offrustration from fighting with her own family, Ruby flips through her Scroll tofind an old picture of her and Oscar together, taken back during their firstweek in Mistral and Ruby makes a vow to find Oscar no matter what since shemade a vow to always look out for him or something to that extent.

And what would be cuter is if the shot of Ruby and Oscar together is a fullyrendered version of the drawing made by a CRWBY storyboard artist for volume6. Who knows? Perhaps it’ll even lead into a memory from Mistralto establish a different side to Ruby and Oscar’s budding friendship that wasn’tdetailed in the series before.

I’dlove it if somehow this drawing actually made it into the main canon at somepoint but again, this is just wishful thinking from me. But yeah, that’s how I’mlooking at it.

~LittleMissSquiggles(2018)

[mifhortunach]

like, WAY MORE THAN 100000yrs ago @good-goddamn tagged me to talk about like ‘creative project’-y things i was/am working on ? so YEah - maybe this’ll even get me to actually work on the things, lmao. 

- a fair amount of irons in the fire wrt digital stuff ? mostly fan-art-y stuff, but i kinda wanna try my hand at more digital painting & 3d modelling ? idk

- technically now I'm working on a bofa?? so Yeah Thats A Thing 

- fair amount of semi-started/planned animatics ? like, storyboarded + audio cut, but nothing further done than that (theres another tfh one which is like 2/3 fin? but hhhhh)

- i wanna go painting outside again ngl

- fake band t-shirts/album covers :T

- i gotta learn how to write/code? uhm, but thats not /Started/ per-say, oof

-> id love if anyone wanted to tell me about what there working on rn ! but, idk, for tagging purposes, if youse want to ofc, @smegandtheheads @morellaar @kone-eel @south-of-oz

[filmandthefemalegaze]

Interview with Hayley Cox

For this project, I decided to conduct an interview with my friend, Hayley Cox, a current Film and Directing student, to help understand what it is like to create film through a female perspective as well as highlight her experiences in a male-dominated major. 

Maddi Young: Hello! Would you please introduce yourself? 

Hayley Cox: Hi! Hi! I’m Hayley Cox, pronouns are she/her. I’m a student at the University of Central Florida currently majoring in Film and Directing. 

MY: First of all I want to thank you for taking some time and answering my questions. I really appreciate it. To begin, could you explain what drew you to pursuing a career in film?

HC: Yeah! Growing up I never got tired of watching movies. I would watch them all day if I could.When I learned about the amount of people it took to make a film and the fact I could be one of them, I sort of knew right then that it was what I wanted to do. People love to be entertained and there are so many stories left to tell. I want to be one of those people, telling stories that I’ve held in my head and heart since I was a child. 

MY: How has your path been, studying this in college and being on sets? 

HC: I have loved most of my classes and I like learning about different ways to tell a story. But, it hasn’t always been easy. I recall my final project my freshman year. My partner was a guy and we were co-directing our short film we had spent the semester writing. I had written most of the script. He would give me his ideas and I would write it. I did the storyboards and the shot list prior to filming, while he did the call sheet and found actors. On the day of production, I was basically running around like an assistant. Making copies, setting up the snacks, and organizing the props. He kind of took over as the director but then I noticed how badly the takes/shots were. Boom mics and lights could be seen in the shot, which would only make post production more difficult. So I kindly stepped in and pointed out what we needed to be careful about. For the rest of the day it was more equal amongst the both of us on filming, but I couldn’t help but feel like I overstepped. Which is completely ridiculous since we were partners, and in reality I had done most of the work. After we wrapped and started editing, we only had to turn in one copy for our production class. When it came time to decide whose we would turn it, we had only watched mine before he said to turn in mine. I’m proud of the work and I’m glad he liked it, but the effort wasn’t equal in the slightest. I felt like he got to receive credit for my hard work, and he was happy to do so. 

MY: So, would you say that he took advantage of his identity as a man to make you do the heavy-lifting? And expect you to do so?

HC: Yeah, I think so. Back then, all I cared about was doing my best. I didn’t notice the extent of it, that I was putting in all the effort and he was reaping the benefits. 

MY: This leads into my next question regarding men’s place in film and the “male gaze”. Have you heard of this term before? 

HC: I have. Honestly, though, I couldn’t explain to you exactly what it is. 

MY: That’s okay! It’s still a relatively new phrase and/or concept. The male gaze is essentially the way men, whether that be the director, the audience, or the character in the film, view women. It’s typically objectifying, seeing women as sexual beings, or, well, objects. 

HC: Yes! That’s what I was thinking. 

MY: Yeah! So, do any films come to mind when you think of the male gaze? 

HC: Uhm...now that I think of it, it feels like a lot of movies would fit that description. Like, Marvel movies for instance. I love Marvel, but Black Widow is always shown in a sexual way. Including unnecessary shots of her body that I guess are supposed to appeal to the male viewer. Even her, and some other female characters’, costumes are sexualized for no reason. The fact that Scarlet Witch wears a corset in battle is insane. 

MY: Right? The objectification happens so passively sometimes that we don’t even think twice anymore. But, the more we talk about it and the more we demand for better from these directors, the issue will begin to lessen. 

HC: I agree. 

MY: Now that we’ve talked about the male gaze, have you heard of the term, “female gaze”?

HC: No, I haven’t. I’m guessing it’s kind of like the male gaze, just through a woman’s eyes instead?

MY: Yeah, kinda! It’s a little different though. In the way that the male gaze is objectifying, the female gaze typically personifies. And since men are the oppressor in society and women are the oppressed, the female gaze cannot be an equal to the male gaze. 

HC: That makes sense. So like, women characters for instance. They aren’t written to objectify the male characters, they're written to see the male as a person. 

MY: Exactly. 

HC: I feel like that also explains the motivation of characters, in respect to the director as well. Like, why female characters shot or written by women see a male counterpart and romanticize it, making them a person even when they don’t know them. And male characters [shot by men] see the female characters as sexual beings or as devices to further their story. 

MY: That completely makes sense. It reminds me of the “Manic Pixie Dream Girl” trope. 

HC: *laughing* Oh my god, yes. 

MY: So, now that you’re familiar with the term, can you think of any movies you think exhibit the female gaze? 

HC: Let me think for a moment. 

HC: Portrait of a Lady on Fire comes to mind. 

MY: Could you elaborate on why? 

HC: One of the main characters is a female painter, and she’s commissioned to paint another woman, but she can’t reveal that she’s there to paint her. She has to secretly observe the other woman and her body, since it’s like the 1800s or something and they can’t take pictures. So the movie is basically about how a woman is perceived through another woman’s view. 

MY: I love that movie. It’s directed by a woman, too. 

HC: Yeah, so that adds a whole other layer. How a woman chooses to shoot a woman versus how a man would. 

MY: Kind of on that same wave length, when women shoot films the idea of making it “feminist” is always looming overhead. What do you think makes a feminist film?

HC: I think a “feminist” film is one that gets the audience thinking about the role of women in real life, not just in the movie. It enlightens the audience on what it could be like being a woman and how women are treated by society or others. There’s more to it, of course, but that’s initially what I think of. 

MY: I think that’s a good explanation. Now, since you are a women entering the film industry, do you feel pressured to create movies that qualify as “feminist”? 

HC: Hmm. Yes and no? I mean, I just want to tell stories, like I said before. But being a feminist is a part of who I am and how I view things, so I think that they’ll be feminist whether intentional or not. But men never have to be asked that question, you know? They just get to create. And I don’t know, maybe they should be asked it. 

MY: True. 

HC:  I do feel a pressure sometimes, though. As a woman in directing. We’re still the minority in the field, so every time a woman succeeds- or fails- everyone knows. 

MY: Also true. But I think you’re doing a wonderful job. 

HC: Thank you so much. 

MY: I just have one more question. Do you have any advice for other women, or young girls, wanting to pursue a career in film?

HC: Yes. Your gender should not hinder your success in the industry, no matter what anyone says. Out of the many jobs in the film industry, find the one you love and do it. 

MY: I love it. Thank you again, Hayley. It has been so fun to talk about this with you. 

HC: Same! I feel like now I’m going to be noticing the “gazes” when I watch movies now. So thanks for that. *laughs*

MY: Oh, you are so welcome. 

_______________________________________

[the-space-case]

Hey uhm Idk if you'll be able to answer, but it's worth a shot. So it's been a while since I've been considering an animation career and lately what seems the most appealing to me is storyboarding. I'm actually working on an animatic for an outtake from Moana. But what I wanted to is: for storyboarding is it better to go to an Art School or one focused on animation?

Hmmm, well animation/storyboarding isn’t my major, so i’m not familiar with their processes! I’ve heard the most art schools are for-profit, though, so make sure you thoroughly research the college of your choice before you apply! Check reviews of the school of not just their selected alumni, but all of them. See the likelihood of their students getting work after school in comparison to others. If they have a higher hiring rate of students getting work, chances are the school has better networking than others, which as far as i’m aware is very important in the field of animation/storyboarding (among others). 

Another thing; check the processes of current animators! They’ll usually explain how they got hired/where they went to school/if they did at all. Remember that the point of going to college is to get to a nice job at the end, so BE PICKY. Also be aware of expenses, of course. 

Thats really all the advice I have. When i was researching going into animation I noticed that most animators at disney and pixar went to CalArts, so keep an eye on who’s hiring from where. I’m not sure what you’re looking for specifically; be it a gaming company or some other studio. Be aware of your options, though! 

Again, this isn’t my major of choice so i highly recommend doing more thorough research and getting a more informed opinion.