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#but good gosh that was not a healthy fixation and now even the thought of dodie sends me right back to being
lesbalisious · 3 years
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Going through super old tags is giving me such flashbacks to like 2016/2017 (and prior on my dodie blog, only ogs will remember) when I used to constantly post about personal stuff,,, it was fun but also there are so many gross selfies of me on this site now lol
#I had fun on this blog about myself personally#on the dodie blog not so much but that was because I was going through a BAD time and I had so many people following me to watch it happen#lol#oh to be 14 and clinically depressed d#if we’ve been mutuals for a very long time then you may also know me as doddlepoddle lol#I deleted and made this blog and have avoided dodie at all costs since because it hurts my soul too much to think about#like that blog and dodie were my life at one point and I’m thankful for the community and the friends and I needed it at the time#but good gosh that was not a healthy fixation and now even the thought of dodie sends me right back to being#15 heartbroken lonely depressed and in high school lol oops#but I love this blog so much more now bc it’s just shits and giggles and pretty stuff#and now I’ve got fun new mutuals :) than I love :)#I’m looking at u Otto in particular (not that you’ll read these lol) thanks for buying those stuff from my Etsy#you basically paid for my antibiotics that I couldn’t afford lolllllllll#idk man I’m having a day of reflection and looking back and I’m in the best place physically and mentally than I’ve ever been right now#I lost sight of that for a couple of weeks but my brain is never gonna be perfect so that’s always gonna happen#I just have to keep reminding myself <3#also rewatching buffy <3 my beloved and gotta tell you I’m having so much fun#I’m gonna talk to my dissertation supervisor to see if I can talk about it in my dissertation because I think it would link rly well#I’m doing that way horror has helped to create a queer identity#being gay and ‘other’ are synonymous and vampires have always been fruity#and there’s so many times where#gay is in buffy not even just Tara and willow ya kno I just love it
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hi-rubi · 3 years
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hi Rubi this is 👁 anon!! I sent you an ask off anon but I figured I’d send you another and try to say something else. I read another person’s ask that said your writing balances toxicity and redemption well, and I have to say I really agree with that. I love that you don’t shy away from having your characters do shitty things and then having them suffer through the consequences of said things. I think that’s a really mature way of exploring and handling certain darker topics, and it does show that deep down you believe (or want to believe) that people can change and evolve and be better, whether for themselves or for love etc! it’s been something I think about a lot - the way that in your stories, no one is inherently unlovable; characters who believe that eventually realize their own worth, and they learn to fight for themselves.
(sorry this is gonna get long and I hope this doesn’t count as trauma-dumping?) recently I kinda took a step back from a friendship I had with my ex-crush: I really liked him, he didn’t like me that way, and it was hard on both of us? like we changed. we were best friends for a few months and he’d be the first person I talked to when I woke and the last I talked to before I slept. at some point he called me his best friend and deliberately made time to talk to me (like he worked on his class work beforehand so he could message me during class). and when he got a lot more distant I actually would just wrestle with myself and the feelings of loneliness and rejection. I once wrote you a very rambly long anon that I’m slightly ashamed about (bc I really shouldn’t have trauma-dumped in your inbox), but anyway... I realized there were some key differences between us (funnily enough the dispute was about the Mineta update; I was like “omg not Mineta” and he was like “these people suck for looking for representation in the wrong places”) and then I realized... this wasn’t good for me. I tried to not love him (and I will say I’m not in love with him anymore for sure) but it always hurts when you’re the one that’s more invested, right? not his fault that he’s not as invested though bc we don’t owe each other anything. so yeah I’m just taking steps back to not be so dependent on him (bc it’s draining to the both of us)! (it’s kinda sad that I’d been writing in my journal since April about how sad I’d felt about him distancing himself, and that it’s taken Four Months for me to actually stand up for myself and say what I wanted to say, but at least it’s done now! that’s something to be proud of, right? I never used to stand up to people I loved. I’d internalize everything, and then my self-esteem would just sink lower and lower. I’m glad that while this guy wasn’t It for me, at least he’s decent enough and cares about my feelings.)
anyway this long rant is just for me to say that reading your fics has been cathartic for me. the first time I read your fics (I think the rich boy Shoto one), I was sobbing by the time I read to part 5. I felt really lonely and I was wishing he would love me. but like slowly as I kept reading and kept thinking and evaluating, I realized I don’t need /him/ to love me. and sure I’m not perfect and I might have some of my own kinds of toxicity, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worth loving! I’m still working hard to love myself. I’m learning to be compassionate with myself while not giving myself excuses for toxic behavior (eg passive-aggressiveness, overthinking, etc).
I just wanted to tell you that you are a beautiful person (both in and out!!). I could tell this not just from what you write, but from how you interact with the people in your inbox, whether anonymous or not. you have such a big heart, and you pour so much of yourself into your writing. I can see how it’s been both cathartic and perhaps a little destructive to keep ruminating on certain scenarios you’ve dealt with. but also I’m so glad for you that you’re starting to see more hope and light, and hopefully you’re starting to need this coping mechanism less. you are wonderful, not just in what you give others, but in what you are.
when I was looking for MHA smut in the tumblr tag I wasn’t expecting to feel all of this and to experience this change. thank you for that. know that in your journey, there are people who are rooting for you!! love, 👁 anon
p.s. I read your ask about New York and I hope you feel a little more at home now!! you sound like an amazing person to be friends with. even though I’m nowhere near New York (I’m moving from my country to the UK which is still far from NYC), I hope someday I’ll be able to befriend someone like you! and I hope you enjoy the city and the friendships and the drinking and all of it 💜 take care Rubi! known you are loved. the stars cast their love on you.
Ohhhhh my gosh. Eye anon I have so many thoughts putting under cut.
I literally went through the exact same thing. That guy was the reason I wrote half my pieces. Like, scumbag bakusquad and all these other works were about HIM. I know SO WELL how you must feel right now. It is the worst, most painful fucking feeling in the world. The only reason I got over that guy was literally because I went on Wellbutrin (an antidepressant), and I realized my fixation with him (and other guys/things in the past) was quite literally because of my mental illness.
Please, please, please, PLEASE cut him off entirely. I think you mentioned you took a step back from your friendship; I want you to stop reaching out and messaging him completely. You don't have to take my advice, but if I could go back in time and tell myself something, it would be this:
Romanticize your life. Start working out and eating healthy. Get to a point where you feel good about your body. Switch up your fashion and wear shit you'd never normally wear. Experiment with makeup. Meet and talk to as many new people as you can. Go to new places in your city, whether it's a cool new library 30 minutes away or a pretty flower exhibit at the arboretum. Fall deeply in love with your friends and your family. If I were to write a story about you: you are literally a kind, beautiful main character who is moving to the new UK for a fresh start after being hurt in the past, and learns to love herself and others in the process.
Above all, never, ever get upset with yourself for falling for someone. You are an amazing person full of so much love, and he was someone you chose to bless with your emotions. But you probably love so many other things around you- your friends, the crisp air when you go on 7 AM morning runs, the nice lady who compliments your skirt at the store....... he is not unique. He's just one lucky person that got to experience your feelings.
You see how when you romanticize your life and paint yourself as the main character of your narrative, it helps shift everything into perspective? That is what helped me get over him. While my medication did most of the heavy lifting, that mentality just changed the game for me. I hope that you can internalize that, too. It takes a ton of work but I believe in you, and I want to hear updates on how beautiful your life is!! I would also recommend writing it all in a journal/online diary of some sort.
Whoa. You brought up.... SUCH an incredible point. "I can see how it’s been both cathartic and perhaps a little destructive to keep ruminating on certain scenarios you’ve dealt with." You're so right, it was destructive. I was always so absorbed in the cathartic part of it that I was always confused why I felt so destroyed afterwards. I literally wrote that quote doc on my "romanticization" document. There's something so beautiful and poetic about that line.
Thank you so, so much for sending this in. Your incredibly sweet words made me reread this message so many times and also save it. I really really appreciate you being here and I'm so happy I met you <3 Sorry this answer was SO long but eye anon I just.......... I'm just hugging you so hard right now. It feels like I'm talking to myself from the past and I just want you to know that I know what you're going through, and you will persevere.
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frickfrancegetmoney · 4 years
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sunflower feelings
tw: weight loss, character death
Two years had passed by in the blink of an eye. Alfred remembered almost every moment, every little thing about his time with Arthur. He didn't think he'd ever forget, not for the rest of his life, however long that may be.
He savoured everything, every little thing that Arthur had brought into his life. He remembered first laying eyes on Arthur. He had decided to take a stroll after first being admitted into hospital, and the hospital had a beautiful garden filled with trees, flowers and plants of all different kinds. He remembered spotting the other blond sitting on a wooden bench, his nose buried in a book. Alfred didn't think he had ever seen such beauty, and he hadn't even seen the patient's full face. But, by Gosh, when he did, he swore his breath had been taken away. The slim faced individual was simply sensational.
And his thoughts hadn't changed. No matter how much Arthur paled, to the point where Alfred swore he was going to suck his blood or something, or how skinny Arthur got, Alfred always found the Brit to be prettier than a picture.
However, the more Arthur worsened, the more Alfred worried.
"Artie, come on. You have to eat this, you're supposed to be taking in 3,700 calories. You've only had 2,600." Alfred frowned.
"How many times have I told you to not call me that? And, that's 100 more calories than I should have. Men are only supposed to intake 2,500." Arthur retorted, staring out of the window, seeming fixated on the garden outside, "Can we go outside soon?"
"You're losing weight, Arthur, and fast. The doctor says that you need 3,700 to gain."
"I don't want to gain, Alfred," Arthur whipped his head around to face his dusty blond boyfriend, "I'm perfectly happy the way I am."
"But, you're not perfectly healthy. And I need you to be both." Alfred's hand reached out for the other's, only for it to be slapped away. The frown he wore earlier returned to his face, as he withdrew his hand.
"I'm fine, Alfie." The other turned his head away again, and Alfred really wanted to believe him, really and truly.
He supposed not all of his moments with Arthur were happy. They fought a lot of the time, but Alfred was used to turning up to Arthur's room to deliver him flowers and apologising with a handmade card. Sometimes, he thought that Arthur started arguments just so he could receive a gift, but that idea was dismissed after that one time Arthur didn't speak to him for three days even when Alfred had delivered him a gift each day.
But, Alfred knew that the good times of their relationship outweighed the bad. Every time he thought of Arthur, the hospital disco popped into his mind. It was a stupid thing really, having a disco in a hospital, but the five minutes that Alfred showed up for seemed to be awesome for the patients, especially the kids.
Sadly, Arthur couldn't be with him, as that was when his condition was worsening, and being on his feet for more than ten minutes was painful and Alfred found him wheezing and clutching at his chest. But, that wouldn't stop Alfred from bringing the disco to his love.
He tapped three times on Arthur's door, before receiving a faint "Come in." He took the invite, the door creaking open at his entrance. He saw Arthur's face light up, which brought fireworks to his chest as a grin appeared on his face. He sauntered over to Arthur's bedside, taking a seat. Alfred handed the other a bouquet, which small hands accepted with glee. He brought them to his nose, inhaling the scent of the roses and lilies.
"Thank you, Alfie. This means a lot to me." Arthur croaked out, handing the bouquet back to the American, "Put them in the vase for me." And he did.
Arthur asked how the disco was, and Alfred shrugged, "It's pretty boring. Without you there, that is." He chuckled, a grin spreading across his face. Arthur shook his head, chuckling with the other.
"Ah, right. Well, I thought that if you couldn't go to the disco, I'd bring it to you," The grin transformed into a sheepish smile, "So, I've got music on my phone, and uh..." Alfred cleared his throat, "Can I have this dance?" He asked, standing up and holding out his hand for the other to take.
Arthur's eyes widened, "I'm afraid I have to decline, I can't dance for the life of me." He chuckled, his face flushing at the request.
"Never said I could either," Alfred laughed, "But I want you to dance with me. Won't be longer than three minutes, so you'll be okay."
"Gods, Alfred Jones, you are the biggest idiot I've ever known." Arthur threw the covers back, holding his hands out for Alfred to take, and he did. He helped Arthur to his feet, only for the other to dive into a coughing fit.
Alfred frowned, "Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't think about it getting worse." He rubbed the other's back, not wanting to smack it in fear of hurting the other.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Arthur sputtered out, before regaining his composure, "Let's dance, love." He smiled, draping his arms over Alfred's shoulders.
A song began to play from Alfred's phone, 'Sunflower Feelings' by Kuzu Mellow. It was 'their song', as Alfred had proclaimed one day that it was made for them, about them and their relationship. And it would be right to say that Arthur agreed, smiling as he heard the familiar tune. Alfred's hands found Arthur's waist.
They didn't so much dance, but slowly spun in circles while staring deeply into each other's eyes. As soon as they got into a rhythm, it felt that the two of them were the only beings in existence, holding each other dearly. The song only lasted for around a minute, but it felt as long as their relationship had gone on for. As the music slowly faded out, there was no sounds anymore, but they continued their dance, and it felt like they were walking on the stars.
And Alfred had begun to wonder, what would their life be like if they weren't dying? He knew he would love to spoil Arthur. He'd take him on so many dates, to the carnival, to fancy restaurants, to libraries. He knew Arthur would love a museum date. And out of all of the art there, he knew his Artie would be he most endearing piece there.
"What are you staring at, git?" Arthur broke him out of his imagination. Alfred just smiled.
"I love you." And he pressed their lips together.
That felt like months ago, but it had only been two weeks. And now, Arthur lay dying. Alfred knew that he wasn't going to make it through the night, so he sat by his bedside for the whole day, speaking to him, and clutching his hand like he was going to fly away. And Alfred wouldn't be surprised, not if Arthur really had grown wings and flew, because the petite blond was the brightest angel he'd ever seen.
"I swore I wouldn't cry." Alfred sniffled, remembering the promise he had made to Arthur a few days prior.
"So don't." Arthur replied, his voice hoarse, his head resting back against the pillow as he had no energy left to pick it up.
"You know I can't help it, Artie."
"Arthur, not Artie. I've told you millions of times. Can you grant me my dying wish?" Arthur chuckled, but his face fell as he saw Alfred's pained expression. "Alfie, don't look so sad. I want this, I've wanted it for years."
"More than you want to be with me?" Was Alfred's stupid response, and even he knew it was the dumbest thing he'd ever said.
"Don't say that, you know it isn't true. I love you, Alfred, but I shouldn't exist like this. You and I both know that." Arthur squeezed the other's hand to the best of his ability.
"I know, I know. But I can't deal with the thought of you leaving me." Alfred covered his face with his hand, biting his lip to stop him from breaking down.
Arthur began to sob, "I want to be with you, too. More than anything I've ever wanted before, but I can't, not like this." He sniffled and cried.
Alfred attached their lips, wiping Arthur's tears as he did so, "I love you, Arthur." He whispered as he pulled back. Arthur smiled, his body visibly shaking.
Alfred knew Arthur was scared. He was scared to die, but didn't want anyone to know. No matter how much Arthur tried to hide it, Alfred could tell he was putting on a front.
Arthur was scared of dying, but he was more scared of people knowing his fear.
"I've fallen for you, Alfred Jones, and I don't know how to return to my feet." Arthur's words shook.
"And you, Arthur Kirkland, I've fallen for you." Alfred kissed his forehead.
And they sat for hours and talked, basking in each other's presence. But soon, they were interrupted by doctors rushing in to the beeping of Arthur's heart monitor. His heart was slowing rapidly, and Alfred knew that he was witnessing the last minutes of his love's life.
And then Arthur's hand went limp, and Alfred broke his promise.
———
originally posted on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163416
thank you for reading! <3
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trubilee · 3 years
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so i guess i’ll write (blogwrite?) now.
today we were authorized for early release at D, the way we are whenever there’s a holiday, so i decided to use up my 3 hours of company-gifted time to try and write this morning (not write this blog, but write other stuff, which tired me so now i am writing this blog as my treat for this last hour).
it has been a challenge to write these past several months.  i sort of think i know why, or i know what triggered it at least.  not sure why the difficulty persists but i guess i could pat myself on the back for trying this morning.
there are a lot of things i’ve been wanting to write about.  in no particular order, my performance eval at work, my strange quarantine life-related skincare fixation journey (oh, the ups and downs), wes and happiness and my odd overthinking of it sometimes, the chasing francis book i finished a couple weeks ago, the funeral last week, and... hmm.  maybe that’s around everything i can think of.  oh, music in the time of rona too.  also stuff in me that the writing has kicked up.  i guess i could try.  oh, and my bras of choice during these WFH times.  maybe a little about daisy and the vaccine.
so.  performance eval.  it went extremely well.  we took the full hour.  my leader L is not the type to give much feedback, but in the first half of that hour she basically looked straight at me and told me all the things i would’ve wanted to hear.  about client group 1, and 2, and 3, the breadth and versatility and equal parts drafting and interpersonal connecting components of them all.  i repeated it all to paul when i told him how it went, and really, really it was everything i would’ve wanted to hear from her.  i was praying thanks to God as she was talking to me through the screen, because i was just absorbing all the words that i had been so hungry to have her give to me this whole past year.  and there are so many things to it too.  things like, i know i am not perfect and everything to everyone the way i think i should--even could be--and i can’t necessarily just say to myself “oh but nobody is” because actually, at this company, there are some people who are, they really really are just so good, and i feel so bad just taking in how good they are at thinking on their feet and killing it at getting things done here, and being so articulate and effective at communicating and dynamic and all of it.  anyway, the conversation felt so... whole-making.  hahaha.  make-whole-ing?  another part of it is that i have always been grateful for the job, i always felt like it was suck a lucky winning when i shouldn’t have necessarily landed it and with that came this default set of thoughts that went, oh they hate me.  oh they think i am inept.  oh they see how inept i am.  they regret hiring me.  i don’t want them to regret hiring me.  that would be one of my worst fears, jobwise.  to burden someone with my existence on their team.  i know that it’s healthy to think that a company is lucky to have you and to know your worth and all, but bc i’m kind of acquainted with my own versions of total failure, i’m not good at thinking that way.  i’m always thinking that i’m lucky to work for X company.  it would probably make many a leadership coach or asian american advancement advocate grimace.  i’m sure it’s a handicap to me careerwise, salarywise, etc etc, but asking me to fix it is like asking mesomeone to stop being insecure.  in that, it's not something you can change by will.  it almost feels like a part of my dna, not just some protective armor.  this is why i sort of roll my eyes inside when someone announces that she (it’s usually a she) has imposter syndrome.  it’s unfair, i know, but i almost want to look around and say, wait is that not just the normal state of things?  why are you acting like it’s some sort of unusual complex that you have?  i thought everyone, anyone with any noonchi, had that.  that’s like saying that--gasp--you don’t think you’re the absolute sh*t.  it doesn’t mean you're afflicted with anything.  i should ease up a little.  
damn.  i only have 20 min left.
ok another thing about the performance eval.  about which i joked to my leader, when she said we could have these conversations more regularly if we wanted to, that my heart could only take once a year at most.  i was so relieved, so happy, i felt so uncaged afterwards.  bc again, really it extinguished all of the unhelpful fears that had made me so tense about work this year.  and part of me, the part that is always maybe a little too self aware, thought to myself, that gosh, if getting a positive review from my leader at some big company where i am a corporate peon is this satisfying to me, then perhaps my world, my dreams, are just rather small.
i was thinking about that and preemptively tried to put it to paul this way:  that sometimes i feel very rich.  not like money-wise, bc i know just enough of the wrong people to ever feel that way (lol).  but more in a life-currency sort of way.  like when i think about my little family of three, my son who is so perfectly delightful that i don’t even know how to--i don’t know how to appreciate him or even just take him in without feeling like his delightfulness is slipping through my fingers simultaneously with, even AS i’m, looking at him and trying to appreciate him and take him in (does that make any sense?), my husband who i have similar slightly overwhelmed feelings about when it comes to his quality as a human being and heart on this earth, and my mom and dad who both survived their different cancers.  about how somehow God provided me with not just the friends i needed but even extra friends who i didn’t dare think i had a chance at asking for, and even this house, and having and seeing daisy and family regularly, and gosh even my inlaws who only seem to ever give and never receive (sorry, ommonim abbonim...) and my sister in law who i feel the same way about, and our nanny, and yes this job too, this job i once never thought i had the right to even dream of having bc of said past failures, this job for two companies brands i adore and believe in.  and the chance to write, and feeling like i have something to write about.  and even knowing a handful of living, breathing, non-robot human beings who actually read what i write, actually think it’s worth their time.  what marvels.
on the other hand, sometimes i feel rather poor.  i feel like we don’t have enough savings, we aren’t saving enough.  i feel like we will always just need to work for a salary bc neither of us is in a job role where we make dividends happen for us.  and i am so junior here at a place where promotions are slower than slow anyway, and salaries aren’t tech or finance salaries anyway.  and i feel ugly and like a half-distracted working mom whose life is devoid of glamour or romance or margin or space or passion / vision.  well, i guess my “poor” list is a lot shorter than my rich list.  
all this to say, after my dumb performance eval i felt like a rich woman.  not because they told me i was getting some big raise (i’m not, and i don’t generally care bc the raises are so small and have you seen the mass layoffs happening here).  i felt rich bc i felt like i got really validating feedback from leaders i really admire, both on a professional and personal level, and i work on a team with colleagues who i think are really excellent at what they do, and i work at a company where i really like what they make.  i feel kind of silly typing all of this out bc it’s so freaking wholesome and vanilla and, again, small, but it’s true.  those things made me happy after my review.  and this is the job i report to 8 hours a day.  yep.  real stable, ordinary stuff.  
i told paul that in thinking about how happy i felt and feeling self-conscious about that happiness, i would rather feel like a rich woman and be objectively “poor” than to be the other way around.  to feel like i am poor but in reality be quite rich.  
it’s also funny bc B and G also specifically separately felt compelled to send me messages confirming this same exact thought, now that i think about it.  how wonderful.  thank you.
next topic.  bras in rona times.  yesterday i bought my fourth--no, lemme count--seventh! eberjey bra.  it’s not bc i’m being greedy, it’s just that the ones i started with i wore so often that they jstarted wearing out.  the eberjey bras are generally underwired, with no lining except a thin layer of lace, and they make my boobs--my post-maternity, seen-such-better-days, already wilted boobs look terrible under my clothes.  but i am working from home and don’t need the extra lining for decency’s sake.  and when i see the bras in my bra drawer and i deposit my boobs into them every morning it feels lovely.  the bras are unflattering but they are delicate enough (while still practical) and comfortable to wear and are lovely to look at.
well i need to start my workday now.  if i ever get around to it i’ll write about other stuff.
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lexxierave · 5 years
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Almost Too Late - Billy Russo
This was requested by @songforhema. She asked for 3, 33, and 72 from my prompts post with Billy Russo!
P.S. I also wanna thank @ms-delos, @gollyderek, and @bewitchingwitch for putting up with my insecure ass and beta reading it! I love you guys!!
P.P.S. This is not related to Billy x AJ!!😱
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"Y/N. Baby. You. Wake. Please" You could barely hear Billy plead with you.
His voice sounded far away and like you were hearing it underwater.
You wanted to open your eyes but they just felt so sore and heavy. You just wanted to sleep.
You tried to tell Billy you were fine, that you just needed to sleep but nothing came out, no matter how hard you tried.
You felt your consciousness slip away and you weren't sure if you would ever wake up again.
Your mind replayed the events that lead you to this point.
~~~~~~~
Your day started like any other day. You woke up in Billy's bed, his strong arms holding you close to his warm body. 
You went about your normal routine but when you hadn't heard from Billy all day and you were starting to get worried, not that he was in trouble but that he was so busy with work that he wasn't taking care of himself. 
You knew he worked hard but you also know that he would be so focused on keeping his clients safe and healthy he would neglect his own health, such as eating regularly. 
So on your own lunch break, you decided to surprise him with some food from your favorite local deli, it was the same place the two of you met a year ago.
You walked into the hotel lobby, sandwich and coffee in hand, a smile present on your face at the thought of how happily surprised Billy would be to see you here.
You stopped by one of his guys, George you were sure his name was. He was always nice to you whenever you stopped by to see Billy.
"Hey, Y/N. Bringing the boss lunch again?" He asked you.
"You know how engrossed in work he can get and someone's gotta feed him." You grinned back as you held the items up for him to see.
"And I'm sure he's glad that someone is you." He complimented before he told you he'd tell Billy you were here.
You took the time to look around, taking in the site of the people that were coming and going.
"He said he'll be here in a minute. He just has to finish briefing the back security detail." He informed you and you gave a small nod in understanding.
It wasn't that long afterward that you thought you heard something. That when everything started happening so quickly.
George grabbed hold of your arm and yanked you towards him. There was a loud noise and you felt a force throw you before everything went black.
~~~~~~~~
The next time you opened your eyes all you saw was a blinding white light.
"Am I dead?" You softly inquired, not sure if there was anyone to hear you but hoping you'd maybe see an angel or something.
Instead, you were greeted by a familiar voice, "Y/N! Thank god you're awake!" Karen exclaimed beside you. "I'll go get the guys."
You heard her heels click frantically across the floor and you closed your eyes again, the light was too painful for you.
You were awoken by the feeling of someone grabbing your hand. It felt familiar to you and you moved your thumb slightly against their hand.
"Y/N, are you awake?" Billy asked, his voice sounding like it would give at any moment. "Karen told us you woke up but when we got here you were still sleeping. I was being to think she imagined it."
You blinked your eyes open, they still felt heavy but the sad almost broken sound of Billy's voice urged you to fight it. 
You were once again greeted by the blinding white light but soon your view was overtaken by the sight of Billy.
His hair was slightly out of place, like he had been running his fingers through it then pulling at it. His eyes, oh they broke your heart to see them so sad and defeated. You could see them glossing and a few tears start to escape. 
You lifted your hand to wipe them away, leaving it to rest on his cheek. He placed his hand on top of yours to hold it closer to him and you saw a crimson color clinging to his skin.
"Oh my gosh is that blood?" You exclaimed with worry. Your mind began to real with horrid thoughts. Had Billy gotten hurt? Was it somehow your fault?
Your thoughts were halted for when he answered, "Yeah, it's blood. It's your blood to be precise. Do you remember what happened?"
You shook your head no, even if you remembered you really won't know what caused it to happen.
Billy sat on the edge of your bed now, his fingers playing with your own as he told you about the attempt to kill his client, some politician or something. He had been getting a lot more of those high profile clients lately and each one thinking that Billy could stop anything, even if they went against his recommendations. 
There was a briefcase that was purposely left by the conference room but it went off too soon. Someone accidentally knocked it over or something, setting it off early. The first noise you heard was the politician's car blowing up as a backup plan or a decoy.
Billy told you about how Frank set out to neutralize the target while he went to find you. You weren't close enough to the blast to take a lot of damage but the force was enough to throw you across the room and into the wall.
The blood on Billy's hand came from your head while he cradled it begging you to wake up.
"I thought I lost you." He admitted his voice breaking and he just stared down at your hand. "For a moment, when I couldn't get you to wake up, I thought I'd lost you. And...there were things I should've said before this. Things I couldn't say if you didn't wake up."
You grabbed his hand in your own, entwining your fingers and giving his hand a loving squeeze. "But you didn't lose me. I'm still here and I don't plan to leave you ever."
He finally looked up, locking his eyes with yours, "I love you, Y/N. I've never loved anyone before but seeing you like that….I know that I love you; I have for a while now." He confessed to you.
He looked vulnerable and almost like he expected you to reject his love like it wasn't good enough for you.
"I love you too, Billy. I just didn't want to say it until you were ready to hear it. Until I knew you would accept it and not question it." You answered in total honesty.
He gave you that dazzling smile, the one that was meant only for you before he leaned down and captured your lips.
"Does this mean your mine?" He asked, his eyes dark and fixated on yours.
"I'm yours, in every way possible." You told him before you pulled him almost on top of you, for another kiss.
~~~~~
When Karen and Frank went to check on you that night they were a little surprised to see you curled up on your bed with Billy beside you. They smiled at the sight before deciding to leave the two of you to get some much-needed sleep.
Tag List:
@lysawayne
@ms-delos
@rogueshadowkat
@the-blind-assassin-12
@likeorions ​
@suchatinyinfinity
@something-tofightfor
@lynne1993
@editboutique
@whovianayesha
@luminex3
@petersunderoos96
@gollyderek
@strawberriewithchocolate-blog
@mrspeacem1nusone ​
@drinix
@wangmangagavroche
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hourglasscinnarose · 5 years
Text
Music Analysis: Steven Universe
There was a video I watched where I guy showed his reaction the SU music, and I thought about going over all the little parts about the music, myself. Here’s the video: https://youtu.be/Sf543pO1wJw
We Are The Crystal Gems: The song shows us the connection that all the gems have with each other and how they have them. What’s the most important to them. It starts out with Steven as a young child, writing a song for them, as you do with your family. It’s really cute and sweet, and I think the fact that they’re all willing to listen shows how healthy of a relationship they all have at that point, at least with Steven. Steven being the one to write the song, and that being the song that plays every time you watch an episode, it shows you the impact that Steven has on the others. The fact that Steven is what really keeps them all together.
Breaking down the most important things to the gems, we can see what their characters revolved around at the time. For Garnet, she is going to fight for “a place where she’s free”. A place she can be herself as a fusion. It all goes to the fact that fusion is very important to her. In fact, it’s the most important thing that has ever happened in her life. Pearl is going to fight “in the name of Rose Quartz and everything she believed in”. I don’t think much has changed with Pearl and how she views Rose. She idolizes her and fell in love with her. I don’t think Pearl would ever leave those feelings. Amethyst is going to fight for “the place she was made in”. Probably the most relatable to us, fighting for our home. Which makes sense for her character. She really was alone on Earth with no experience to Homeworld. That’s what makes her relationship with Steven so cherishable, because neither of them know about Homeworld and so get left in the dark about a lot of information. And then there’s Steven, who is going to fight for “everything that everybody wants”. Side note, but I love how Steven’s arch is finding out that he’s not Rose Quartz and that he doesn’t and SHOULDN’T have to be. If it turned out that Rose was still in there or that Steven was just Rose in disguise, I think it would have ruined the message that they’ve created now. But back then, he wanted to be everything that the gems saw in Rose. Even though he never met her, he idolized her. That is, until he found out who she really was. Not going to get into that right now, though.
Now, ONE MORE THING that I want to point out is THAT THEY SAY THEIR NAMES AT THE END FOR A REASON. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl, and Steven. Throughout the entire show, everyone is calling him or expecting him to be Rose Quartz, but in the end, he is not. And I think this song is a great foreshadowing of the fact that he is Steven.
Love Like You: Not that this song makes up for the fact that Steven has had to clean up Rose’s mess, but it does show us that she understands that he is going to have to. Rather Rose sings this song to Greg or Steven, or even the other Crystal Gems or the Diamonds, I think this is her telling them that she CAN’T love like they can. Maybe not the Diamonds, though. Hehehe. But, anyway, the song is all about how sad they were when she disappeared and how they’re all waiting for her to come back and how she will never be able to love like they can, but if she could, she would have been able to do and feel just about everything else that Earth had to offer. Rose knows that they way they see her is through a filter, that she’s NOT that great. And I think that’s a really important thing to remember about her character. She idolized Earth life just as much as those left on Earth without her idolized her. Neither was really healthy, and everything was seen through a strong filter. Rose colored lenses, may I say.
Personally, I think that the song is for Steven. Thethirdbill makes a good point that the song sounds like a lullaby, something that Rose might sing to Steven while he was falling asleep. And i’d argue that Steven is closer to Rose when he’s asleep, since a lot of major things happen when he is. Some of his abilities comes to him during sleep and we learn small things about his character through his dreams. Not to mention that Rose was defiantly a dreamer. Granted, she was also a revolutionist, but she’s a dreamer none-the-less.
It’s Over, Isn’t It?: Gosh, there’s actually a lot to unpack with this song. One, the title and the fact that Pearl repeats “It’s Over, Isn’t It?” is almost as though she is asking if it really is, not making a point that it’s over and she hasn’t moved on already. It’s as though she’s still in denial that Rose didn’t choose her, and honestly, seeing how Rose talked to Pearl, it’s really not surprising that Pearl would still be stuck on this. And then asking, “Why can’t I move on?” brings that impact, it forces us to see that Pearl’s character, even at this point, is still fixated on the person that she once loved who had a son with someone else. Sure, we already knew that, but it tells us that Pearl is insecure, not only about the fact that Rose didn’t lover her, but about the fact that she still loves Rose. 
Another thing to really look into is the fact that the “good ol’ days’, so to speak, starts out with Pearl mentioning war and leads to her own potential in Rose’s eyes. It’s sad to say that their relationship was build on how good of a Pearl Pearl was. Heck, she even mentions that she doesn’t know who she is without her and that she’s “petty and dull, with the nerve to doubt her”. In the end, Rose is still her Diamond, and I think Rose knew that. I think that’s why she carried on and fell in love with Greg, even when Pearl was in love with her. And all the men in the beginning that Pearl mentions, it’s almost as though Rose has been through this and just came back to Pearl, or that Rose knew that she wasn’t in love with Pearl and dated other people. I don’t think she cheated on Pearl, btw, I don’t think her and Pearl were every official. If anything, it’s almost Stockholm Syndrome with how Pearls are treated in their society, but with their culture, I think it really only started out as something simple that grew because of Rose’s found respect for planet Earth. 
“Is this a sad show for kids with pastel colors?” - I love that quote. I find that hilarious.
Here Comes a Thought: This song is surprisingly simple. It has such an important message that it’s able to get across without a lot of understanding or effort on our part, and I think that’s what really makes this song. Like, it’s beautiful and catchy. Defiantly an earworm that’ll get stuck in your head. But what really makes it is just how simple, yet impactful it is.
Also, yes, this song is one of the most beautiful things I’ve heard and you will never be able to change my mind.
Let’s Only Think About Love: I think the YouTuber sums this one up rather well. It’s a great song. :)
Change Your Mind: I genuinely love this song even though it’s really short. Just that you could know someone just by giving their thoughts a listen to and try to believe what they believe is a really strong message. I really like that.
Stronger Than You: Three things - Garnet is basically a symbol of love, her entire character is about her relationship being a conversation, and HER SASS. That is all.
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harrietvane · 5 years
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do you mind talking about why you dislike Love Actually and Richard Curtis's romcoms? I've seen you mention it in some of your tags and I'd love to hear your thoughts :)
Long post, so scroll now, ye who care not.
OK, so like better voices than mine have articulated Why Love Actually Sucks Balls, but you were kind enough to ask for my view, so strap in I’m gonna talk about Jane Eyre, and the 1990’s Fran Drescher sitcom The Nanny also. It’s coming up on western civilisations’ holiday season, so why not, it’s a good time to tell this movie to choke, because it’s about to be repeatedly thrust upon us once again. (Disclaimer: I acknowledge Richard Curtis is responsible for Blackadder and Vicar of Dibley, so whatever else, we’re still cool on that basis. But I have spite and to spare, so there’s plenty to go around).
My main beef is actually the context. Technically, if all of the below bullshit was in an offbeat movie from any other movie market (I’m thinking maybe a French, or Spanish movie from the 90′s boom, Almodovar style?), the focus would probably be a black humour take on ‘Lord What Fools These Mortals Be!’, sort of look at the inherent ridiculousness of mankind, and how we get in our own way, blah blah, might have been cute. I’d buy that. This movie? A british movie for the american market? It’s sold with a big holiday sticker on it saying ‘ROMANCE’, and specifically ‘ADORABLE ASPIRATIONAL ROMANCE THAT YOU SHOULD ADORE AND ASPIRE TO’. Also the context *inside* the movie itself (through a narration voiceover no less) is that all of these narratives is somehow proof that ‘Love, Actually is all around’, and specifically in a good, wholesome, happy way, overall at least. These stories are redeeming, even if they’re not all happy, they’re Good™ or whatever. The context outside the movie is the same: british TV advertising, hard copy packaging, holiday specials, outdoor gala screenings: they all say over and over: THIS IS SQUISHY HOT PINK NEON LOVE, wholesome, healing, and healthy. You should want this, aspire to this, think this is the cat’s pyjamas! It’s a wide and varied look at the beautiful power of love from all angles, comic, tragic, the lot. 
Is it fuck. The ‘positive’ romance stories range from Stage-5 Creeper to Crotch Puppet Afterthought, the ‘melancholy’, thwarted romance stories seem to say ‘if you’re a woman who’s not readily/immediately bangable to your allocated straight dude, romance is over for you I’m afraid’. Let’s recap, shall we:
Much has already been said about Andrew Lincoln’s character BLANTANTLY SHARKING ON HIS BEST MATE’S WIFE being uhhh, less than fresh. I don’t even feel like I need to justify this one, it’s so over-the-top. The main point is that movie itself maintains this as a tragic, swoony, thwarted, heart-string-tugging missed connection, rather than The Worst Friend Ever (meaning: it assumes we’ll be 100% onboard with Keira Knightley skipping secretly away from Chiwetel Eijiofor to grant his best mate one treasured kiss, as opposed to saying ‘what the FUCK Mark, why are you telling me this, this is super inappropriate?? and my only wedding video is just you zooming in on my face? Pls get help’.
We all love National Treasure Colin Firth and all, but like is Love, Actually fixating on a woman who literally can’t speak to you? Has said nothing understandable to you? About whose own life you’ve never yet, and could never have asked about? Whose main interactions with you have been to wordlessly clean your room, bring you food, and tidy it away after? Your ideal woman, who you meet immediately following a break up, is one who silently meets all your domestic needs, while making zero emotional or intellectual demands on you whatsoever? WOW, SHOCKER. (Oh but it’s cute or whatever, they have him propose, and there’s a mix up when her sister appears, but she’s Ugly™, so it’s funny that the sister is not getting romance. I mean, how could she, an uggo?? Classic joke. Good times.)
The Prime Minster and his tea lady: more on Curtis’ Domestic Servitude Kink below, whoo boy.
Laura Linney would really really like to sleep with Rodrigo Santoro, and god bless her who wouldn’t, but she is tragically unable to, because she has family commitments as being the sister – not even fulltime carer, just RELATED TO -  a brother living with disability. Sorry folks, romance is OFF THE CARDS, FOREVER for Laura here. How can she??? That’s the nature of love, actually. Can you have sex right now this moment? No? Whelp, sorry, thanks for playing, back to the Tragic Assisted Living facility for you. Gosh it’s unfortunate that’s a truth universally acknowledged that any whiff of disability = no romance for you ever. (Don’t start me on 4 Weddings* [edit: *it’s totally Notting Hill, not 4 Weddings, thank] and how that husband is like The Best because he continues to love his wife even though her legs don’t work. What a champ, honestly, do they have an award for that?) I have to stop now before I get sarcasm poisoning, but my eyes will continue to roll.
How could I say anything bad about the Liam Neeson widower and his adorable lovestruck son storyine? Lol, I’m gonna. Have you seen the Buffy episode The Zeppo? Xander is convinced the only way girls (as a concept, not in the specific) will like him enough to sleep with him is if he has A Thing. The Thing is posited as ‘being cool’ by having an object or skill that alone will be the magic bullet to romance. Musical instrument prowess is considered, and he ends up just getting a car to be his Thing. This just seems like a redux of that logic. This kid could get some genuine direction from the movie to get to know this girl, learn her interests and share his, see if she likes him as a person by being A PERSON, but the narrative just backs away from that and eventually DOES just say ‘play the drums in the show, she’ll like you’ and that’s …it. But it’s cool, teenagers don’t learn key interpersonal dynamics at this age or anything, she kisses him for some reason, whatever. (Bonus points for gifting his dad with a literal supermodel as a punchline, after making that an actual joke earlier about the shallow nature of attraction, and love is about filling a one-sided need.)
I could go on, but I have very little to say about Freeman falling for a girl whose tits he’s been holding for a week, the no-homo pop star Nighy plot, or the guy that goes and has sex in Wisconsin with Bond Girls, and can’t be bothered, which leads me to…
Richard Curtis’ Domestic Servitude Kink. Must I kinkshame Richard Curtis in his own home?? Nope, I’m kinkshaming him AT WORK in his narratives, surrounded by his nubile, pliant, adorable female employee characters. Oh Mr Curtis, I seem to have dropped a pencil!
OK, so like a M/F Domestic Servitude romance is an extremely old trope, and extremely common, and I’m not here to tear that up, because done well it’s amazing, lot of petrol in that King Cophetua narrative tank. I’m a fan. The most famous in-context historical example being Jane Eyre, for instance: he’s her boss, she’s his paid subordinate, they’re both 100% aware of that. It’s a great way to explore the real-life class and power dynamics of these 2 train wrecks of human beings, and they vomit their ridiculous drama llama feelings all over a 600 page novel. Super fun, they’re both awful humans, I love them. Mid-century you might have The Sound of Music, and in more modern times you get 1990s sitcom The Nanny, both extremely well-developed romances involving paid employees, and part of their value is that the shows KNOW THIS. They’re aware it’s the basis for their dynamic, that they have to directly play with that, and develop beyond to go anywhere. Watching Fran Fine in her runway-fresh Moschino minidresses jump on Maxwell Sheffield’s desk for the 800th time making him super uncomfortable (and not a little turned on) is always such a treat. It’s right out there on the label. The problem with Love, Actually, is Curtis doesn’t want to admit that naughty secretary seems to be a cornerstone of what gets him going, romantic-stylez. 
One (1) time in the movie would be ‘sure, why not’. Literally the highest political office in the land, making overtures to the woman who brings him tea, i guess might be a bit off, but let’s say it’s done well, and maybe Hugh Grant and Martine McCutcheon’s charisma gets us over the line (his behaviour is cute because her last man didn’t like her body, but the prime minister DOES like her body! so it’s cute!). Whatever, seen worse. Two (2) times however is making a point, and Colin Firth is driving his silent portuguese maid home - not a french maid but so close! - and deciding he’d like her to bring him tea and clean his toilet for as long as they both shall live, and that also seems to be her greatest joy. Ah, l’amour. OK, I guess you like the thing, everyone has a thing, but at least you’re done now. Wait, you mean there’s a third (3rd) one? Everyone’s Fave Alan Rickman drives the plot of his own marriage’s tragic romance because he’s having stiffening feelings about his own Naughty Secretary halloween costume, after all. All the beautiful speeches about Joni Mitchell give Thompson some nice things to do, but it still assumes the Nature of Romance is to want to plough the help. A man can’t help it! It’s how romantic attraction works! Once would be whatever. Three times and there’s a tag on Ao3 for that, so please just scratch that itch and stop selling it to me in a heartwarming christmas movie as the Universal Nature Of Romance, so varied, so vast, the full spectrum! Just 2 hours to tell a story: but 3 whole narratives and 7 actors devoted to the variants on the naughty maid story. My point is be upfront about it and I’d be all for it - pretend it’s not A Thing You’re Doing and my creep-meter goes ping. Steven Shainberg’s ‘Secretary’ has a scene where the boss literally puts a saddle on his employee, and I find it to be one of the most genuinely moving romances I’ve ever seen. Love Actually makes me feel like Curtis is sending me a ‘u up?’ late night text about his secretary fantasy.
Anyway, I fucking hate this film, and not necessarily because of the content, but because of the context. The movie tells me to love it as aspirational romance. My culture tells me to love it as aspirational romance. Everyone tells me to love it as a varied and full exploration of reasons to get up in the morning, because it’s an aspirational romance. It makes me want to claw my own face off.
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oumiyuki · 5 years
Text
All the Shades of Pink and Her
Thank you @yourikoweek2018 for the invitation!
A Love Live! Sunshine! Story
Pairing: You x Riko
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Words: 1786
Summary: Riko finds a flower and letter in her shoe locker. They lead her to the music room where her “secret admirer” waits. Riko never knew it’d be like that.
Read me at fanfiction.net or AO3 too~
Author Notes
Only after I wrote out You’s thoughts about each flower choice did I manage to sew the entire story together. :3
May you enjoy~ XD
 November 18th, Friday, after school, Riko opens her shoe locker and blinks surprised. Surprised to see an envelope placed above her outdoor shoes, a singular medium pink rose without its stalk sits atop the paper. Riko looks to her left and right, over her shoulders to see if anyone noticed her pause at the locker or was perhaps spying on her. Seeing that there wasn’t anyone, Riko picks up the letter and flower – the soft to touch rose into her rather spacious bag before she reads the message.
“Hi. Do you mind turning around?”
Words are written in a way Riko could tell the person cared about trying to make her handwriting a little nicer but fail to hide the owner’s identity. Riko brushes her thumb over the first stroke which was much thicker than the rest; she could see a certain ash-brunette’s face full of concentration as she put pen to paper.
Am I being a bit too overconfident for thinking it’s You-chan?
Riko blushes as she places the card back into the light pink envelope with the blue heart sticker into the side pocket of her schoolbag.
Even though there are all these clues and signs…
Riko does as instructed and notices another card stuck onto someone else’s locker.
“Look to your right.”
Riko turns and sees another light pink rose attached to the wall, a note behind. The auburn haired girl plucks the note on the opposite locker before heading for the wall with a permanent small but jolly smile.
Isn’t it dangerous to leave a note on someone else’s locker, You-chan?
Another flower in Riko’s bag and another note with a message of where to go next.
“Just a little up the stairs.”
Riko follows as told and it didn’t take long for her to spot another light pink rose on the beginning of the handrail. The second-year stops at the bottom, however, her breath taken away by the handrail which was lined with light pink and medium pink roses alternating their way up to the second floor. She couldn’t help her lips from curving high.
Was the school ever this gorgeous?
Riko shakes her head to break out of her reverie and made her way up the stairs, appreciating the cute and thoughtful pattern that she could see a certain design-talented girl would keep going back and forth between ideas despite already knowing what she wanted. She collects each rose into her bag with an ever-growing smile.
Following the obviously pink rose-themed guide, Riko was led to the front of the music room where she was greeted by a light, medium and now dark pink roses which were specially arranged on the door of the music room to make out a heart-shape with yet another envelope sitting in the centre. Riko had half a mind to take a picture, but that didn’t felt right so she took the envelope off the door and it’s card out to read.
“I’m inside. Will you come in?”
Riko’s heart does a small skip and a chuckle, her amber eyes glistening as she reread the words a good three times, hearing You’s voice in her head.
I wouldn’t walk till here if I wasn’t going to…But it’s cute how you’re asking.
Riko took all the roses into her bag and opens the door after taking a deep breath, a futile attempt to calming her racing heart and sweaty palms.
Riko involuntarily sucks in a deep breath through her nose when her eyes take in the sight of the one and only Watanabe You, the girl with the soft ash-grey tresses she always held back from touching, the girl with the back she wants to lean on, her close, oh so close friend she’s made since living in this cosy countryside, the You-chan she harboured feelings for for months now and never thought would be the one to call her out to the music room in such a romantic way.
Okay… Okay… Calm down, me… It’s You-chan… I knew that. I guessed that… I am so not calm…
Riko takes another deep breath and she opens her eyes again to take a better look at You who have turned to look at her. Riko was rendered incapable of speech or movement by those impossibly vivid blue eyes the pianist has to admit she was spellbound by from the first day she knew them.
You-chan… How long have I been staring and trying to calm myself now? Ohhhhh.
“R-Riko-chan. Um…” You’s pink dusted cheeks, shy gaze and stutter in her voice made Riko’s stomach do a triple cartwheel and her heart squeeze hard.
“Yeah?” Riko hopes her facial expressions convey.
You rubs the top of her cheek with the side of her pointer finger at least five times, back and forth (Riko counts) and opens her mouth to speak again. “Could you…come closer?”
I’d love to.
Riko’s cheeks move mechanically upwards; she’s happy that You wants her closer, physically, in distance sense, but she’s a bit rooted to the floor near the door because of how her mind and body aren’t functioning together at the moment. Riko’s mind blames the existence of a You-chan in confession mode.
Walk. Move my feet. Can’t be that hard right? It’s a once in a lifetime experience to get confessed to, me… No one will again if I faint now…
Riko’s feet steps closer to the reason for her overwhelmed emotions and painfully accelerating heartbeat.
You shuffles her feet on the music room floor and Riko hears the ash-brunette take in an audibly loud and shaky breath. You then fixates her determined ocean blues on Riko who swallows, most probably audibly and nervously loud too.
“Hey… I…” You grips the hem of her skirt and lets it go and grips it again. “Do you know the meaning of the flowers I left you? …From your locker to here… I mean… You did-”
“I did.” Riko helps.
Oh gosh, You-chan is so cute and embarrassed, I..!
“I don’t know the meaning though…” Riko lowers her head a little, abashed for her lack of knowledge on flower language.
“I… That’s good.” You smiles for, uncannily, the first time since Riko enters the music room since Riko was too much of a nervous wreck herself to notice You’s relieved smile upon Riko’s entry to the music room. Riko raises an eyebrow at You’s statement.
It’s good that I don’t know the flower language?
“Ah, er… Because… Because…my…confession.” You was blushing so hard Riko’s cheeks felt hotter too. “to you…Has me explaining… Can I just say it?”
Riko chuckles softly; she couldn’t help it, You was too moe for her heart. She’s honestly glad she does not have a weak heart. Riko nods and says in a whisper. “Please do.”
You wrings her fingers together once before staring back into Riko’s patient yet eager amber eyes once more. “Light pink roses? They mean gentleness, adoration and admiration… And to me? You’re the most gentle…and lady-like girl I’ve ever met… And that makes my heart skip beats. It makes me want to shower you with all the love I can give.” You takes another nervous, necessary breath of air. “Your tenacity and beauty as a pianist… I admire that. I admire you.”
Riko could only nod at the end when You was looking at her with so much unhidden love, she couldn't trust her voice to say anything, she knew she would cry if she tried to speak now. 
I admire you. You-chan... How can I possibly have something for you to admire..? I'm just...
“M-Medium pink roses…” You continues but with the way the ash-brunette’s face turned a healthy (or maybe not so healthy?) shade of red, Riko could tell medium pink roses are dangerous to the heart of pure girls like You. “They mean…r-r-romantic feelings.” You licks her upper lip subconsciously and quick, Riko holds back from wanting to touch them with her own. “I’m in love with you.”
Oh gods, You-chan is so straightforward.
Riko gripped her left hand so as to have a bearing, else she’d faint.
You couldn't tear her eyes away from Riko. Could not. Would not. You makes sure that Riko was still with her and that she herself wasn't going to run before she continues. "And for dark pink roses... they mean appreciation and gratitude." 
Appreciation and gratitude... 
You smiles; a sense of relaxation and sincerity seeped through the pianist from the ash-brunette’s gaze. She felt naked and raw from the way You looks at her, looking at all of her. And You speaks again, holding all of Riko's attention. "Thank you."
Eh?
"I never really got to say this to you a lot..." You wore a sheepish smile now. "And I really want to... Really." You closes the distance between them without warning, scooping the too surprised to even squeak pianist's hands into hers. "Thank you for transferring into Uranohoshi... Thank you for being such a great friend to Chika-chan... Thank you for being Aqours’ pianist and composer... Thank you for being you..." You pauses and breathes. "Thank you for letting me meet you. Thank you…Riko-chan." 
You smiles - widely, pure, loving- 
Indescribable... 
Riko only knew her cheeks were wet when You's gentle thumb touched her cheek, making her feel warmer. 
You-chan...
"Riko-chan...I'm sorry-"
Riko shakes her head hurriedly, not wanting the ash-brunette to misunderstand or apologize. "I'm not...upset...or sad..." 
I'm just overwhelmed... by you... and my need for you... 
You leans closer in a slow manner, her ocean blue eyes moist and glistening. "Will you...be my girl...girlfriend?" 
Riko swears she has never seen a more beautiful girl than You. It wasn't the blush covered cheeks or the cute, reddened ears. It wasn't the euphoria of being confessed to or the setting sun's nostalgic mood. It wasn't the closeness between them or the still joint hands. It was You. Just You. 
"Yes." Riko's voice cracked but that wasn't important as she threw her arms around You's neck and hugged the ash-bluenette tightly. 
This is real. You-chan is real. She really confessed to me. And I...I... 
"I'm so happy..." You says airily and hugged Riko equally tight around her back. "I'm so happy..." You couldn't help but repeat. 
Riko laughed and cried and hugged and sniffled and just lived the moment of being in You's arms. As she never knew it'd be like this. She never dared think her love would be reciprocated. You proved her otherwise and Riko knows she’ll never forget this evening – soaked in the sunset rays and tears of You’s and her own, loved and loving all at the same time. Riko is now You’s girlfriend.
I’m so happy too, You-chan…I love you too…
Author Notes
It’s the start of YouRiko Week and the start of You and Riko’s love story. ^w^
7 days and 7 prompts I’ve chosen to weave together the tales of You&Riko. Welcome aboard, and I hope to see you through and till the end of this cruise! :D
Leave me a comment if you like. ^w^ (Any and every word or likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated! :D)
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linkspooky · 6 years
Text
Chihayafuru 85-95
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There she is queen of all of our hearts. I hope you  know the drill by now. Check under the read more if you want bad jokes and off the cuff poorly thought out meta. 
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I love how Arata did better than perfect, and the queen only did perfect in her game. That’s just a metaphor for their relationship in general. Also I find their relationship to be one of the most fascinating in the manga so far? It’s fun to see Arata who usually fixates on people, just treating the queen as a normal person when the queen’s totally fixated on him. 
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Took him awhile to notice that Chihaya’s hand was injured. Then again it was kind of implied that Taichi hid that fact from him. 
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I really do love Chihaya adjust and come up with creative solutions like this in the middle of a match. Watching characters change and develop their game is a lot of the fun of sports manga after all. 
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This, this is just cute.
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That seems to be Chihaya’s strong point above everything else. Her pure enthusiasm for Karuta draws the enjoyment of the game out of others and makes them play seriously. 
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Oh man I love this matchup already.
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I’m laughing literally so hard. 
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You better respect him. You see that face. That’s the face of Taichi’s real boyfriend Arata. You wish you could be on Nishida’s level. 
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Gay.
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She’s removed her power limiters!
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That was when she fell in love at first sight. Also, the manga’s been super good at jokes lately. 
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Oh hey, that’s how Chihaya plays Karuta too.
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Shinobu’s so bad at understanding other people. It’s interesting how easily her and Chihaya could be friends in outside circumstances though. Like even the reason why Shinobu isolates herself, she thinks nobody will play a serious match agianst her because they’re intimidated, that doesn’t apply to Chihaya who strives her best against her and always thinks she can win.
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SEE SHE JUST WANTS FRIENDS!!!
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I really hope Chihaya and her can become friends in the future, because Chihaya at least will strive to reach her level. That way she won’t be alone at least. 
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I love her. 
Also this is from having watched the anime but I like the manga’s style of paneling to convey the story way better? The anime did have nice solid animation and especially good sound design but I like the at of the manga better? 
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I love her too. It’s fun to see somebody with no interest at all slowly get interested in it. 
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Awe, this teacher is such a nice person. 
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It’s the final countdown! Doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo. 
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That’s what you get for underestimating Taichi. 
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Rion deserves so much. I like the development Taichi’s undergone where he doesn’t need Chihaya to watch him anymore. 
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Oh wait Chihaya showed up. That is definitely not where I thought this was going. 
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Taichi has engaged Taichi 1000%. Also GOsh, Taichi can’t even be happy that Chihaya showed up to support him, this dude is so determined to make himself miserable. 
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Everybody hates Suou-Meijin is my favorite running joke of the series. 
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Oh that’s so true for Shinobu’s character. Thank you grandpa, for telling us the theme. Though tbh I think Shinobu might actually want to lose to Arata because being queen is so lonely for her. 
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Everybody hates Suou.
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Interesting, not only did Chihaya fight against her own foil but now Taichi has to face Chihaya’s foil. Most likely because Taichi also competes against the constructed image of Chihaya in his mind.
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Please continue praising Taichi, I am all about this. 
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Awe babies. 
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Oh Chihaya.
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DON’T BE RUDE TO TSUKUBA.
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I love this coach. She gives such good life advice.
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I really do love how Shinobu befriends the cards the same way Chihaya does.
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She’s so cute... and Arata’s just like... what?
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Ah yes, seeing someone as a god that seems healthy.
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Somebody please just be friends with her already. I will draw myself into the manga if that’s what it takes.
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I love when she makes... the face.
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See I told you.
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She wanted to lose so she could feel that connection.
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It’s sad that this is probably the only kind of contact she feels right now.
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I’M SO PROUD OF TSUKUBA.
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She ships them too. 
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This guy is one of my faves on merit of being so fucking tsundere.
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Hyoro knows what’s up.
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Before she learns Karuta, she must first learn to people.
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Oh Chihaya you’re so... you.
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This manga’s been so funny lately.
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This coach is so nice and reasonable. 
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Awe, she’s watching him.
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I think she’s finally starting to see a different side of him. 
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Awe babies.
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They’re so cute. 
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Awe, he’s trying so hard. 
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At least somebody loves Taichi as much as I do.
That’s all for now folks. See you tomorrow!
20 notes · View notes
artificialqueens · 6 years
Text
Love me tender - Part Three (Shalaska/Pearlet), by Lavish
A/N: Look at me submitting a chapter less than a month after the one prior! Here in Brazil it’s still October 1st, which means Halloween season is officially open. It seemed only right to submit Shalaska today. In this we have a glimpse of domestic life with Violet and Matt, beers with Sharon, Alaska letting her guard down, and something unexpected at the end. As always, thank you to those who have been following this fic, who have left feedback here and on my ask box, I love you tons. Xo, Lavish. 
“Vi, come on! It’s about to start!”
Matt’s strong voice echoed throughout the small apartment, making Violet roll her eyes, slightly annoyed, but also smile nevertheless. She had no idea when it became a thing to watch old seasons of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo with Matt, but it was now a sacred ritual for their Saturdays. Violet hurried to pour the contents of two bags of Doritos into a bowl before the opening song ended.
She handed the snacks to her boyfriend before plopping down on the air mattress they used as a couch (and bed, and often times a very convenient eating surface).
“I can’t believe you hit play before I was done picking food to feed your ass and your baby. I hope you are aware this is treason, and for that, you will be punished.”
Violet liked to complain. Simple as that – when she made snarky comments, she would usually be treated better after. It always happened, and that, as well as her true faith in aliens, were universal truths to the young teen.
“Fucking yes I did! And may I remind you it took ages, AGES, for you to simply figure out that you wanted Doritos after I browsed Uber Eats for like 20 minutes? No wonder you have HUGE swollen feet, that’s probably where all your ego went!”
Her boyfriend was the clear exception to the rule. Violet burst into laughter, holding her ever-growing belly, but attempting to swat her hand on his arm for the nerve he had. She pulled Matt’s face and planted a kiss on his nose, feeling his toothy grin graze over her own lips, making his stubble tickle her palm.
“Did you listen, Melon? That’s how your dad talks to your mom. Hopefully you’ll be less of a monster, kid.” Violet stared at her belly, as if she were waiting for an answer, and sighing in frustration when she wasn’t rewarded with any.
Since her third month, after most of her morning sickness had passed and Violet had made peace with the idea that she would get as big (or maybe even bigger, god forbid) as the entire European continent, she had grown very fond of talking to her belly. She’d read somewhere that it was healthy and soothing for the baby to hear their parent’s voice, so she opted not to risk the sanity of the baby and to address it whenever possible. Everyone did it: Violet, Sharon, even Violet’s mom and the lady who drove the bus she usually took to the hospital (Sheila was her name and Violet thought she was lovely, despite her daring habit of consuming approximately 4 donuts during the 10-minute journey). Again, Matt was the only exception. He never talked to Mellon, which was, evidently, a great disappointment. Violet figured it may be painful for him, but she still desperately wanted him to. 
She would never admit it out loud, but sometimes Violet fantasized about having a family with Matt. Having a house with three bedrooms, an ugly minivan, buying her baby clothes and toys, all sorts of mommy duty. She had even made a pact with herself: if she were ever to keep the baby, she would even keep a homelife blog, sharing the experiences of Melon the First. She craved it deeply, Violet was confident that she would be a good mom. Not the best, not a great mom, but an okay mom. And that was precisely the issue: her kid deserved much more than just okay. Her baby wouldn’t sleep on an air mattress. Violet wouldn’t drive a minivan because they were the epitome of ugly and tackiness, and extremely slow for her liking. She looked at Matt, her beloved Matt, wondering how he’d be like as a dad. She was so entertained it took Violet a second to realize he was expecting an answer to a question she hadn’t heard.
“Sorry, I totally spaced out. What did you say, babe?”
“I said I can make you some guac if you’d like, to go with that.” He pointed to the orange snack. “Hopefully it will save me from torture due to the treason of the crown.”
Again, he made her laugh out loud until her entire body was shaking. “No babe, it’s fine. You are forgiven. Let’s just see if Anna will marry that Michael guy.”
“You already know she did, tho.”
“Way to spoil the episode, you dork!” Violet faked rage, and tossed herself baby-bump-first over the giggling body of her boyfriend. In no time, they were having a tickling battle, both too invested in each other to notice the drama happening on-screen.
And maybe it was the comfort of the air mattress hugging their tangled figures due to the weight, or maybe the way Matt’s curtains hardly filtered any of the sunlight streaming through the window, but suddenly Matthew’s apartment felt to Violet like a home for their little family. ********** The warm breeze of August swept Alaska’s golden locks over her shoulder, and the edges tingled her sensitive skin. She stared at the empty seat in front of her, as though if she fixated on it long enough, Sharon would materialize. Alaska was fairly early, but she still checked her phone every two minutes to know if 15:00 would arrive any sooner. The last time she looked, her stubborn clock showed a disappointing 14:23.
Lunch with Cory was nice and familiar. Alaska missed him constantly, and despite living in the same city, LA was huge. The chances they would run into each other only decreased day by day, and still their connection was as undeniable as ever. Cory was 3 years younger and about 20 times more reckless than Alaska, but they always got along well – at least, after the karate patches incidents was forgotten. He balanced her seriousness and she lent him the responsibility he often lacked, which provided tons of laughter, some rumors about Cory possibly using heroin, and all of Alaska’s drunk dialing episodes on her first years of dating. Together, they could (respectably) paint the town.
A glimpse of what looked like jet-black hair appeared on Alaska’s line of vision through the window, and her head shot up, trying to find out if it were Sharon. A lean, tall brunette was closing the door of a red pickup truck, double checking the doors before turning around. The distinctive cleft chin and her piercing blue eyes made it undeniably clear it was none other than Sharon, waving discreetly at Alaska before making a beeline to Alaska’s table.
As she approached, the blonde checked her phone once again. 14:27.
“Well, you’re early!” Alaska broke the silence as the other woman arrived at her table, a smile easily spreading across her face. She double checked her outfit, making sure her rosy blouse was in place, and adjusted the bow on the neckline. The white skirt she wore was hidden under the table, but Alaska still straightened it reassuringly.
“Yeah, I was actually hoping to arrive early and calm my nerves before you got here, not gonna lie, but I’m not disappointed at all. You look drop dead gorgeous.”
Alaska watched in awe and chuckled lightly at the emphasis she gave on “dead”. She studied Sharon, contemplating her ensemble. From the styled (yet effortless looking) curls to her dark eyeshadow and the low-neck black dress, it made sense. It only seemed right that Sharon was that sort of grown-up punk kid.
It was an odd pair to look at, undoubtedly. But they made sense, in a way. The way Alaska’s dimples deepened when she smiled looked nice next to Sharon’s gapped front teeth, both giving a little humanity to the otherwise impossibly beautiful duo. Alaska’s breath was taken away. From the husky tone of Sharon’s voice to her milky skin and long fingers, she was amazing.
“Why, thank you! Same to you. Should we order something, or…?” Alaska trailed off, watching as the brunette’s eyes got lost on her face, studying her body language. She couldn’t help but smile, she felt good. It wasn’t invasive staring, it felt personal, intimate even. Alaska wished she would know what was going through Sharon’s mind in that moment.
If she could, she’d find out Sharon was admiring the way the afternoon sun bathed the pale skin of her chest, making the pink shirt draped over the other woman gave her an ethereal look. She’d find Sharon was curious about a tiny scar on her glossed upper lip, wondering what the story behind it would tell about Alaska’s early life. But alas, Alaska wouldn’t know all that. Instead of telling, Sharon opted for a less embarrassing phrase.
“Do you think they’ll serve us a beer right now? I know it’s still afternoon but I’m dying for one.”
“Yeah, sure!” Alaska wasn’t used to early drinking, but then again, she wasn’t used to being spontaneous at all. She looked over her shoulder, catching the waiter’s attention, and placed their order. Turning to Sharon with an inquiring look, she asked: “Soooo, tell me about yourself, Miss Needles… Anything I should be aware of before I trust you with a newborn?”
“I don’t think so, no… Does having live bunnies for breakfast count?” She kept a straight face, but Alaska’s shocked expression cracked her up. The lawyer looked weirdly green, as if she was sick. “I’m just messing with you, gosh! You know what they say: when in doubt, freak them out. You should’ve seen your face tho, it was priceless!” She smacked the table in the midst of a fit of laughter, struggling to even get the words out, the blonde soon following. Sharon was weirdly comfortable being her truest, weirdest self and didn’t get self-conscious at all. She found she was, actually, in her element.
“Literally nobody says that. But despite being close to Satan’s spawn, what else is there to you?” Alaska dove deep into Sharon’s eyes, almost believing that, if she searched long enough, she would peel off every one of the lairs built around Sharon’s impressive personality. She seemed so much more comfortable than she did in the hospital, speaking and gesturing freely.
“Well, I was born in Newton, Iowa. It’s a nice town to grow up until about 15, then it’s just too small of a town. My first teen years were terrible, I felt eyes on me all the time – and trust me, it ain’t nice at all.” She paused, getting a little more serious, and instantly reaching for Alaska’s hand over the table. Just like last time, there was no need for requests or even a flick of the eyes. It was natural. She took it and smiled, encouraging the other to continue. “I moved to Pennsylvania a few years later, then moved again down here. I attended Nursing school back in Penn, and those were the best years of my life. I love my job. I bet looking at me no one would ever guess what I do for a living, but it’s such a personal matter to me. I chose to nurse because there was… I don’t even know how to put it, some sort of emptiness, I guess, inside of me. My loneliness had hit a new level right after I got my diploma, as I’d left family back in Newton, so I clung to the first job I got. It really was fantastic how much it fulfilled me, and now… I guess I’m just ready to welcome a new life into my own. I smoke tho. I hope it’s not a deal breaker.”
Alaska was speechless. Sometime during Sharon’s monologue their waiter had placed two frozen pilsner glasses on their table, filled to the brim with bubbling beer. Without breaking their hand holding, both reached for their drinks. There was a clear syntony between the two, and it made grins split both their faces.
“Should we toast to this?” Alaska said, before taking her first sip. Seeing Sharon eagerly agree, shaking her head up and down, she continued, inclining her glass to meet the brunette’s. “To a very good start to whatever it is will happen between us four. May whatever decision Violet and Matt make the best one for all.”
“And to Melon, may he or she be as alcohol driven as any of their parents – and yes, I’m referencing underage drinking. Sorry ‘bout it.” Sharon completed, a sassy finger wiggling around.
The cold beverage tasted surprisingly good to Alaska, and she smiled languidly. It was so easy to be around Sharon, and all of her personal problems, from Tom to driving to the suburbs and all of the cases piling on her desk seemed so far, as if they weren’t her own.
“Damn Lask, this is too fancy. I usually have mine straight from the can.”
“I usually don’t have any at all! Look at us, having different experiences and fancy-ing it up for our date.” Alaska’s words only made their way to her brain when she registered what she’d said. “I meant meeting. Fuck.”
Sharon waved her hand, telling her off, both of them surrendering to contagious laughter. Alaska’s face still showed flushed, but her smile was genuine.
“Honest mistake. I don’t dress this nice for meetings.” She sighed and took another sip. “ Your turn Lasky, what’s the story here?”
“Well…” She elongated the word, trying to decide where to start. “I’m from Pennsylvania actually, from Erie. I have two brothers and one sister, we’re pretty close. Cory lives here, he’s the one who had lunch with me here earlier. I went to Law School at the University of Pittsburgh, and after I graduated I wanted to have this huge Law Firm and “make a name for myself,” She drew quotation marks in the air, rolling her eyes. To her ears, young Alaska seemed naïve and silly. “So I came down here. Luckily the firm part totally worked, but I should’ve known the part of making a name was a goal shared by basically the entire American population, so not an easy one.”
“I see that in you, I could totally tell you’re an overachiever. It’s not bad, tho. It’s ok to dream big.”
Sharon winked and Alaska felt it again, the fluttering of butterflies in the bottom of her stomach, taking her breath and her speech. All she did was smile, finishing what was left of her beer.
“Well, I guess so. It just seems childish to me from where I stand. I guess at a you-” She was cut off by her own phone ringing. She had almost forgotten she had one, from how invested she had become in their talk. The lit up screen didn’t show any names, or clues, of who was the caller. She let it go to voicemail, resuming her sentence. “Sorry about that. Back to what I was saying, at a young age we want to conquer the world, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, but as you grow up even those perspectives chan-“ 
Once again, her phone blared with an incoming call from an unknown number. 
"Do you mind if I take this? I promise it won’t be long." 
"Sure, take your time, Lasky.” Sharon smiled, and Alaska detected honesty in her eyes. She was more than surprised that this was going so well. "Hello, is this Misses Langster?“
Alaska frowned, taking a second to recognize her husband’s last name, which she had gladly taken, but never really used.
"Yes, this is she.” Still oblivious, she turned to Sharon, basking on the way her full lips stretched when she smiled. It was the most beautiful one she’d ever seen.
“I’m calling from the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. There’s been an accident.”
29 notes · View notes
kpopyourcherryy · 7 years
Text
Backstage (M)
For the lovely @pocinamedia Admin Kia~ I mean it isn’t exactly “lowkey” per-say but hopefully you enjoy it doll 💕
Genre; smut and a healthy dose of fluff
Length; 2,000+ words
Kink(s); Daddy kink, oral sex
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As you sat there backstage of your boyfriend’s concert with some other random girls beside you- who probably had backstage passes or something, you honestly didn’t know and really didn’t care to find out. The only thing you had on your mind was seeing finally seeing Kwon[Dean] after being apart for so long.
You were trying your hardest just to tune everything out and listen to your boyfriend’s soulful voice as you waited patiently, but couldn’t help just rolling your eyes each time these bitches opened their mouths. They were obviously oblivious to the fact that you were fluent in korean and understood every ignorant word that spewed from their mouths. 
“Yah..” You could hear the girl with long black hair whisper to her short blonde haired friend, “What’s she doing here? Dean doesn’t like girls like her.” She said in a hushed tone, motioning her head towards you. 
You obviously knew you weren’t really “ideal” in Korea. Your skin was several shades darker, your hair wasn’t straight and fine- it was a collection of thick tight, bouncy curls. But you were gorgeous nonetheless, and your lovely boyfriend always made sure to let you know how irresistible you were. 
A small smile rested on your delicate face as you thought about how he’d sometimes tell you that you were a goddess who was kissed and adored by the sun. He always would go on about this ‘theory’ he had about you being a goddess stuck on Earth with mortals who didn’t even deserve to be in your presence. 
God was he dumb sometimes but he made you feel beautiful, even on your worst of days.  
The blonde haired friend just shook her and shrugged, “Maybe she’s lost..” She teased, the pair giggling like school girls after. 
Despite how difficult it was, you bit your tongue and kept yourself from just starting a full on fight, mainly because that’s what your boyfriend would want. Luckily, you could hear that his set had just ended. A bright, little grin appeared on your face as he walked through the curtains and strutted over to where you and those cunts were. 
“Ah! Here he comes!!” The blonde haired one squealed as she wrapped her arm around her friend’s. 
The black haired friend squeezed her friend’s hand, “What if he talks to us?” She whispered as your boyfriend stood in front of y’all. 
“Hey.” You said softly [in korean], looking up at him with a beaming smile on your face. “Are you done already?” 
Kwon reached out for your hand, lightly grasping it as he pulled you up from your seat, “Yeah, let’s go get my stuff princess.” He cooed airily, pulling you into a tight hug then planted a soft kiss on the base of your neck.
In your peripheral vision you could see the two girls staring at the two of you, wide eyed and all the color from their faces gone. You couldn’t help but to snicker as you turned to face them, [in korean], “What got nothing to say now?” You asked, tilting your head slightly with a brow raised. “Bet y’all didn’t know I could understand everything y’all were saying.” 
The pair began apologizing profusely, “I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean it. It was a joke.” The black haired one blurted out, her cheeks blushed a bright red as she stared down at the floor. 
Again you rolled your eyes, scoffing as they apologized. It was almost as if he could read your mind because the moment you went to open your mouth, he said “Babe, let’s just go okay?” His hands lightly grazing your curves and back while he pepper sweet little kisses all over your cheek. 
Sighing, you nodded as you inhaled his scent. “Fine..” You replied, giving the two girls this y’all bitches lucky look. 
With his soft lips beside your ear, he whispered, “Good girl.. Daddy’s good little girl.” 
His warm breathe and gentle praise sent chills down your spine, “Let’s go..” He said softly, intertwining his fingers with yours; leading you away from the conflict and to his dressing room. 
Once the two of you entered the dim light, burgundy walled room, he shut and locked the door behind him. With his dark, lust filled eyes zeroed in on you, following you as you cheerily strutted over to the red suede couch, plopping down on it as you turned to look up at him. 
All you could do was lick your plump, rose stained lips and widely smirk the moment you saw the darkness in his eyes that you were already so accustomed to seeing. “What Daddy?” You playfully asked, giggling as you rested against the back of the couch. 
Kwon’s predatory gaze stayed on you as he silently walked over to the couch, one of his large hands groped his already hardened member in his pants while the other combed through his messy hair. 
Standing not even a foot away from you now, he stared down at you; licking his lips as his eyes seemed focus on your plump lips and heavenly figure. “Daddy’s missed you so much babygirl.” He smoothly cooed while using his free hand to gently caress your face. 
Smiling up at him, you shyly replied, “I missed you too Daddy so, so much..” You put one hand over his as he stroked your face and nuzzled into the palm of his hand, practically purring at his touch. 
“You must’ve been so upset having to deal with those two girls back there my love..” He said in a hushed, comforting tone as he let you continue. “
Poking you lower lip out in a soft, subtle pout; you nodded into his palm as you planted candied kisses up to his inner wrist. “If it weren’t for you I would’ve lost my cool so quick, Daddy. People are so ignorant.. it’s annoying.” 
He lifted his other hand from his clothed member and got down onto his knees in front of you, gently pulling his hand away from you he rested both of them on your thighs. Lightly grazing his fingertips up a little passed you mid thighs, his hungry gaze fixated on your heated core. 
“How about..” He began, slowly peering back up at you while his large hands traveled further up your skirt. “How about you let Daddy take all that stress away from you princess?” 
His low, sensual tone sent bolts of electricity straight to the heat between your legs; the only thing you managed to utter out was a soft whine as your now heavy lidded eyes stared down at him. 
Licking his lips, Kwon parted your legs and pulled you further down the couch by your thighs. As his face inched closer to you, he pushed your skirt up to your waist. He immediately began trailing enticing little pecks up from your inner, mid thigh and stopping just before he reached the drenched fabric that covered your princess parts. 
Instinctively, your hips rocked closer to his lips each time he neared your core. A small whimper flowed out of you as you automatically pouted in protest of his teasing. “Da- Daddy why do you have to tease?” 
A smug snicker escaped him as he finally placed a delicious little peck on top of your clothed entrance while inhaling your inviting scent, “Because babygirl..” He began, cutting himself off as he planted a rougher, longer kiss slightly below your engorged clit drawing out louder, shaky moans from you. 
As he pulled away from your core, he glanced back up to you- his eyes automatically locking with yours, “It’s fun to tease you sweet girl..”. Before continuing his delectable assault on you, he hooked his slender fingers into the starl white lace hem of your pastel pink panties- pulling them off, and discarding the fabric off to the side. 
Your breathing hitched as you bit you lower lip while watching his plump lips plant themselves on your sensitive clit. “F- Fuck~” You shakily whined, running your fingers through his messy hair. 
His skilled tongue knew exactly what to do, “Mhmm, you’re so sweet..” He closed his lips around your clit, humming as his he used two of his long fingers to trace your near dripping entrance. Removing his mouth from your core for a second or two he mumbled, “So wet for me baby..” 
Planting his lips back on your needy pussy, slowly trailing his tongue down to your entrance, softly prodding it with the tip. The teasing gestures drew out elongated, high pitched whimpers as your neediness almost became unbearable. “D- Daddy..” You whined, tugging lightly on his hair. 
Again, he removed his mouth from you then glance up at you through his lashes, “What is it princess?” He asked oh-so sweetly, his expert fingers still running up and down your soaking slit. 
Biting your lower lip, you tightly shut your eyes laying your head back onto the couch as you relished his decadent touch. “Oh my gosh...” You whimpered as your softly raked his scalp, tightening the grip you had in his hair. “Please don’t stop Daddy..” 
With a painfully slow motion, your boyfriend leaned back down placing a gentle kiss on your engorged clit; immediately earning his more of your soft, needy whines. “Why shouldn’t I stop babygirl?” He playfully asked, his finger sliding down to your wanting entrance. 
Your brows furrowed as your needy moans grew louder, your arousal slowly becoming too much for you to handle. “You make me feel so good Daddy, please!” You squealed, furiously pouting while he circled your entrance. 
A smug little chuckle escaped him, “That’s all you had to say, princess.” Immediately, he easily dove two finger inside your welcoming pussy, groaning as he watched while he pumped them in and out of you. 
“Fu- Fuck!” You whimper between your continous near throat tearing moans. “Holy shit, you make..” Your eyes rolled back as you attempting to praise him, the feeling of him hitting your spot perfectly distracted your train of thought. 
“I make.. what?..” He replied, his mouth hovering over your core as he continued finger fucking you. “Tell me babygirl. Daddy wants to hear that pretty little wrecked voice of yours.” His plush lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue as his digits continued their own assault. 
Your brain and body felt as if they were both on overload. You could of sworn you had seen the stars- not only the stars but the entire fucking solar system, but sadly you had to come back down to Earth and answer that damn question of his or else you’d risk him stopping his heavenly attack. 
“Y-You make me..” You stuttered hesitantly while attempting to control your moans, small high-pitched whimpers escaped your pursed lips as your walls began clenching around his fingers, “Fuck, you make me feel so fucking good Daddy!” You blurted out, practically gasping for air since you were apparently holding your breath. “Go- God I’m so close..” 
Kwon could feel your walls tighten around his fingers, slowly removing his mouth from your aching, overstimulated clit; he smirked and in that velvety voice of his, he cooed, “Cum for Daddy sweetheart.” Picking up the pace of his fingers, curling his fingers in the most divine way, “Let me taste how sweet my little girl is..” 
Though it felt close to impossible to open your eyes, you peered down at him watching as his put his delicious tongue and mouth on you once more. His lewd yet enamored words and sublime assault finally brought you over the edge. “Ahh~” You sweetly muttered out as your body trembled while your orgasm wracked through you. 
Licking one last broad strip on your sweet tasting cunt, he slowly stopped; leaning his head against your inner thigh, he watched while he pulled his fingers out of you, licking his lips as they glistened with your exquisite essence. Bring his digits to his mouth, he licked them clean. 
“How do you feel now princess?” He asked lovingly, still gently teasing your sensitive core. His lustful gaze focusing on your breathing, a smug little smile painted across his face as he saw how done you were, “Did Daddy do a good job?” 
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oblivion-time · 7 years
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Ripple Effect ch 4 (SoMa Week 2017)
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
AO3 | FF.net
Ripple effect
Habits
"Where the fuck is that sack of fur!" Black*Star cursed loudly as he stomped the ground impatiently. "The dude told us he had seen him in this village!"
"Black*Star." Tsubaki prompted by patting the edge of her bed within the hotel room. "There's no use beating yourself up over it. We'll have to rest up good so we can follow his trail tomorrow."
"But Soul could be dead by then. He's— he's— weak." Black*Star spat out the word as if I was a curse.
"We can't help Soul if we don't take care of ourselves." Tsubaki patted her bed once again. "Just sit down."
Black*Star halted. Eyes fixated on the spot her hand patted. He gave in and sat down beside her, resting his elbows on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair frustratingly. "I just… I just can't handle hearing Maka crying anymore."
Tsubaki rubbed her meister's back, knowing all too well his feelings. Every time he answered the phone and Maka or Stein would report to them about Soul's health, his eyes would sadden. Lip strained but his voice cheerful and his usual self, but he was far from it. He was hurting for his childhood friend and brother from another mother. He wasn't the only one. She was hurting for her dear friends, but she had to swallow her sorrow in order to comfort her meister. They were meister and weapon, they lived a life knowing their friends could die in battle at any day, but what Soul was going through was torture. It was as if they were slowly being cut by a dull knife for every unsuccessful city they visited and every false trail of Free. It was painful and strained their sanity. Any day and Soul could be gone and they would return to a heartbroken Maka. Out of all the missions they failed, this one just had to be successful.
"We're going to find him. If we find the witch Eureka, we'll find him too."
"But where the fuck are they? Every lead we get turns out false."
A smile spread on Tsubaki's face. "Free must be with a witch and how do you catch a witch?"
"Um… getting a broom?"
"No, why not get a witch to hunt her? We're failing to find them with track star, so why not change things up and see if a witch could find them?"
"Holy shit, Tsubaki! That's fucking genius!" Black*Star bounced up from the bed, wearing a large grin on his face. "Maybe even more genius than Maka!"
Tsubaki giggled as she watched the irritation and frustration turn into energy and glee, excitement toward the new method. Hopefully they wouldn't let them down.
"Will you stop it?" Soul breathed heavily, feeling anxious at Maka's back and forth pacing by the phone. "Why don't you sit down and finish your meal. You haven't been eating well."
"No." Maka shakes her head as she continuous to pace back and forth by the phone. "The phone will ring― any minute now will they finally call―"
"Maka." He interrupted her and she finally halted her steps. "Eat. Just because I can't doesn't mean you shouldn't." Soul gestured toward her barely touched cup of noodles.
"But what if I miss the call? I― we can't afford that."
"You couldn't miss the call even if you were across the world. Not with your nerves and hearing." He gestured again toward her cup. "Now eat before you pass out."
She wavered on the spot, weighing the pros and cons carefully, but eventually she gave in to his words and took her seat by his bed. She grabbed the now cold cup of noodles and started eating. Not as appetizing anymore now when it was cold, but it did fill her growling stomach.
No words were needed. He knew he must look terrible. The past couple of months of her waiting by the phone had turned worse alongside his health. The first snow had fallen and New Year's Eve would be just around the corner along with his death. Time was running out for him and Maka wasn't able to cope with it. She was breaking, the fantasy she had rocked herself in was cracking and falling apart, and she was frightened. More frightened than him.
He watched her slurp her noodles up. Gosh, it had been over three years since he ate something solid. He had really hoped he would've been able to eat a cheeseburger just one more time before the sand ran out. The world was cruel.
"Come here." he said after Maka had finished her noodles and put her cup away. Without any protest she crawled into his bed and snuggled close to him, resting her head against his chest and hand resting on his now bony ribcage.
He could fall off the face of the earth at any given moment. He felt barely a quarter of the energy he had and his bones were sore and his liver was starting to act up, signs that only proved his time was up. He was going to die. Before he fell into the gutter, there were some things he needed to take care of.
"Did you pick up the student's exams and the answer sheet?" he asked as he rubbed her back.
She shook her head.
"I thought you would go and get them when Wes and mom were keeping an eye on me. What happened?"
"I told Nygus I couldn't do it anymore."
"Maka―"
"No, Soul, I can't― I just can't do this now when you are so ill. I can't work knowing you're home struggling with your sickness. I― I just can't."
This was what he was afraid of. Her quitting living because of him. His life was falling apart and he was taking her down with him, he couldn't allow it. "You should call her back and say you changed your mind."
"No, I―"
"Please," she looked up and stared at him with her teary eyes. So many tears she had shed because of him. It was cruel. "I don't want your life to unravel because of me."
Her eyes seemingly softened and she started to shake her head slowly. "I can't go and work even if it is just for an hour, I'm always worrying to death about you. I can't focus. I don't want to leave you."
He had arrived at the most difficult part of the conversation and it killed him just thinking the words he was about to say. "Maka… I'm dying―"
Immediately the tears she had been holding back streamed down her face and she shook her head madly as if it could shake away the words that left his mouth. "We don't know that. You're going to be better―"
"You can't deny it." He cupped her hand and guided her fingers over his shirt where his bony ribcage hid, forcing her to feel the dip of the valley and the rise of the bone. "I'm bones and skin. My bones are constantly sore and my liver is giving in. I'm at the end of my rope."
She sobbed, buried her face in his neck. "You're just a little sick. You'll get better, you survived at the cabin, you can survive this. You're not going to die."
"Look at me." She didn't. He brushed away her pigtail and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her cheek. "Please, look at me." Reluctantly she looked up from the comfort of his neck. "Please, Maka, acknowledge it. The transplant will never come. They won't find Free. The little strength I have won't last long. I'm going to die."
"You cheated death once, you can do it again—"
"No Maka." He shook his head. "I'm tired. I'm so tired all the time and I can barely keep my eyes open for two hours straight. I fall asleep when we have company—"
"And all our friends and family are fine with it."
"It's not okay. I can't sit up anymore. I can't even move my own arms without risking breaking a bone. I can't even do the simplest task of being social and awake when people visit us." He brushed away her tears falling from her impossible green eyes. "This is the end. I'm so sorry I couldn't do more for you."
"Don't say that." she hiccupped and laid her hands on his. "You loved me and that's more than I could've ever asked for."
"But I couldn't give you more time with me. I just hoped my body would hold together long enough for us to get ourselves on our feet and get married and create our own family before things would go down in the dumpster."
"It's not too late." Maka slide her hand from his and ran her hand through his hair, bringing his forehead to hers. "I can get a judge here and we can get married. My father even gave us his blessing. We can still get married."
Soul shook his head lightly not to accidentally hurt her or move away from her comforting touch. "It's too late." he whispered. "I'm not going to marry you and then leave you a week later as a widow. I don't want to break your heart like that."
"I'm still going to be as hurt when you—" she choked on the word "… when time runs out. This is about you. I'm more than willing to get married, I love you more than anything. I want to make all your dreams come true. I want you to be happy."
"You will do anything I want?" he tiredly whispered, feeling fatigue weighing him down.
"Anything you want is yours."
"There is something I want." He licked his dry lips. "What I want… I want you to go to work— I'm not finished." Soul added when Maka visibly grimaced. "I want you to hang out with our friends without me. My final wish is when I die, I want you to forget me."
"Soul!" Maka's eyes widened with fear and realization.
"You will forget me as if I never existed. As if we were never partners or lovers. I want you to move on, date other guys and fall in love, not ever thinking twice about me."
"You can't be serious!" Maka shrieked and pulled away from him. "I can't do that! I'm not going to pretend everything is okay when it isn't and I'm not going to pretend like you were never a huge part of my life."
"It's for your own good." He grabbed her hand and his thumb ran over her knuckles. Tears were revived and trickled down her cheeks. How he would want to steal all her sorrow and wipe her memory clean of him. Then she would've never been hurt by him. She would've met some preppy dude she could've matched better with and the most important thing is, he would've been healthy. The dude wouldn't have been a decaying body just waiting to die. "I don't want my death to ruin you."
"I was already set up for failure the moment I realized I was in love with you!" She crumbled and buried her face in his chest, every sob shaking her body. "I will never love again. I'm never going to love anyone except you."
"I don't want that for you." With a weak shaky hand, he placed it on her head and soothingly ran it through her loose hair. "I want you to be happy. I want you to fulfil your dreams and get married and have kids and all that. I don't want to be the reason for you crashing and burning and never fulfilling your dreams. I will always love you and I want you to know I will never hold it against you for finding a new love. You won't have to feel guilty."
"I'm not going to find someone else. Period." Her hand fisted his shirt. "You will forever be my one and only love. When the time comes, I'll come and find you in the afterlife and I'm going to strangle you for even suggesting such a foolish thing."
"Why wait when you can do it now?" He couldn't help but chuckle which he soon regretted. He moaned out in pain at the sharp jab at his lower region. "Fuck!" he exclaimed and immediately the tears were gone and Maka shot up from him.
"What's wrong?" Her gaze worriedly ran over his clenched fist above his lower belly. "Is it normal pain? Do you want some morphine?"
He shook his head and gritted his teeth, withering in pain. "Call Stein. Oh fuck, get him here quickly!"
Maka catapulted from his bed and snatched the phone, hands trembling as she dialled Stein's number. The dial tone barely had ended when she sputtered words. "Get here immediately! Soul's intestines are acting up majorly!" she hung up and grabbed a hold of Soul's shoulders, trying to keep him down on the bed so he wouldn't hurt himself further.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he chanted.
"Stein is on his way, just hold on Soul, I'm not going to let you die just yet!"
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timhowe-blog1 · 6 years
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~ Being British in Bavaria ~
                                               Prologue
  ‘So, let's just get this straight,’ begins Frau Gürtelmann, removing her spectacles and fixing me slap bang in the eyes with a studied, concentrated gaze.
‘In your application you said that you are PC literate, but it turns out you can't touch-type, you can't tell the difference between pdf and power point, and Frau Bichlbächer had to show you how to send her an email’.         
That much is true. I had needed to ask her secretary how to send an email. It seems incredible that a means of communication which we take for granted nowadays was by no means bread-and-butter business back in 1998.       
‘All you're able to do,’ continues Gürtelmann, ‘is open Word’.Looking for confirmation, lest she might have misidentified my true colours, she cocks her head: ‘Right so?’
I’d been tickled pink when, having just graduated the previous autumn, Deutsche Telekom instantly offered me a full-time position in its translating department. My first day on the job looked promising. I’d always considered myself to be a natural talent at journalism, and was delighted to be asked to translate press releases for the company’s English-language website. The first assignment involved a dispatch advertising a wake-up call service from glamour girl Verona Feldbusch. That’s roughly the German equivalent of Katie Price. As I handed my polished text to the department secretary I remarked ‘Gosh, and there are people prepared to pay good money for something like that’.
This off-hand remark must have found its way back to the boss, because the following morning I was removed from press translation and relegated to manning ‘the clippings cubicle’. This, I soon discovered, was the least popular duty in the whole department – one normally assigned to school pupils on work week. My instructions were to ‘fillet’ the daily Fachpresse, or specialist press, cut out everything to do with telecommunications and glue it into a scrapbook. I’d heard from former novices that new full-time entrants were also occasionally put to work on this peripheral assignment. But for just a day or two, before being moved on to more key, translation-based tasks. Apart from being released to translate the odd text whenever a colleague went sick, I remained in the newspaper clippings cubicle a whole month.
I should have taken the hint. Especially when the colleague responsible for keeping an eye on my efforts quietly handed me the Stellenangebote – situations vacant – from the Süddeutsche Zeitung and suggested I might start applying for other jobs.  Things hadn't quite panned out as planned, it seemed. I was now being called into the boss's office for my first and, as it soon transpired, only progress report. And we weren’t even a third of the way into probationary period.
Frau Gürtelmann's damning appraisal of my practically non-existent PC skills is, alas, spot on. Humiliated and unable to return her gaze, I lower my eyes, bringing them to rest on a stain on the lacquered wood floorboards. Then, as if attempting to mitigate charges being brought against me, I look up and whimper ‘Yes, but I also copy and paste’.
On reflection, I'd possibly taken ‘PC literate’, buzzword of the time, rather too literally. I was, after all, literate and able to turn on a PC. Surely that sufficed, did it not? A simplistic but nonetheless reasonable line of thought in the days when social networking meant little more than writing out a cheque each year for Friends Reunited and mobile phones came bricklike, glued to a 12-inch antenna. As for connectivity and the Internet of Things, back in 1998 these were foreign words to me.
In my defence, I ought to explain that my ignorance of all things IT was not totally mea culpa. I am one of the so-called ‘lost generation’. The very year after I left school, Information Technology was introduced to the National Curriculum. The idea of ‘catching up’ on this essential life-skills subject was never mooted, however. Right through university and well into my first full-time teaching job in Britain it was not once suggested that a basic grasp of PC knowhow might possibly enhance my career prospects. Not even when I took my Diploma of Translating shortly before the Millennium was there any talk of computer literacy being de rigueur for those wishing to progress in this IT-driven profession. As a mature student, I was easily ten years older than most of my fellow peers – every single one of them PC literate, naturally.                                              
Following the dressing down in Frau Gürtelmann’s office, I knuckle down at my laptop and endeavour to fix my shortcomings in the IT department. For starters, I take an Introduction to Word course at the local VHS, part of Germany’s excellent adult education network. I even buy an old typewriter for ten marks and teach myself touch-typing. Still, having made a dog’s dinner of my first job in Germany, probably the most sensible thing to do would right now would be to cut my losses and return to England. Although my first attempt at teaching in Britain hadn’t exactly been a crowning achievement, I probably should consider giving it another go. They’re desperately short of foreign language teachers in Britain, I speak French and German fluently and am appropriately qualified. I feel sure I could make a much better job of it second time round.
So why am I reluctant to return to Britain? More to the point, why am I so gung-ho on staying on here and making Germany my home? Twenty years later, and this is still one of the most frequent questions which Germans ask me. ‘Wie kommst Du hierher?’ They want to know what brought me here. This has always struck me as something of a strange question. I mean, why not ‘Lust auf Lovely Germany?’ That’s the title of a recent Spiegel magazine report on intra-EU migrants. It’s no accident that some 96,000 Brits currently live in Germany. The country enjoys a healthy economy, plenty jobs, a generous health and social care system and generally a much better climate than Britain. They brew a damn good beer here too, of course. These are typical reasons I give whenever Germans ask me how I ended up here. And they’re all part of the reason why I’m so happy to make this country my adopted home. What originally attracted me over here all those years ago, however, takes a little more explaining. Truth told, I fell in love with Germany quite by accident. And it was all thanks to a teenage magazine called Bravo.
Flashback to the early eighties. Growing up in the genteel Georgian city of Bath in Northeast Somerset, it’s unlikely that I would ever have become quite so fixated with Germany and the Germans, had it not been for Bravo. I discovered this popular youth magazine on an exchange trip to our partner town of Brunswick in 1982. It was the year that Deutsche Welle rocked not only the German charts. Splashed over the mag’s front page almost every week were names like Spider Murphy Gang, Hubert Kah and Trio. The latter even made it onto Top of the Pops in Britain.
Emailing, text messaging, WotsApping – none of all that had been invented back then. I don’t think we even had fax. Which is why letter writing, just shortly behind the telephone, was probably the most common form of communication between young people. And Bravo, like most youth magazines of the time, played a pivotal role in this process. I decided to write off to its pen pal page. Scribbled on the back of a blank postcard and accompanied by a simple black-and-white passport photo, my text read Engländer (18) sucht nette deutsche Brieffreunde/innen (Englishman seeks nice German penfriends, male or female). 
I didn’t give the request a moment’s more thought until several weeks later when the postman rang our doorbell excitedly waving a fistful of letters from Germany and Austria. The senders were all female, aged 15 to 17 – a rather narrow target audience for any type of magazine. Not that this really mattered much to me at the time, of course. I was too busy sniffing scented envelopes, deliberating which one to open first. Up to 900 further letters flooded in over the course of the ensuing months, and for a brief period I even possessed my own sorting bag at the local town post office. I did my uttermost to reply to as many as I could. My sole precondition – acceptance criteria, so to speak – was that they enclose a pretty photo. Or at least promise to send one by return of post. Scented notepaper earned bonus points, sending me onto overdrive, as I fired off responses machine-gun style. If ever there was a schoolboy trailblazer to online dating I can proudly say I helped pioneer the project. And if letter writing was ‘in’ then I was right there at the cutting edge.
It soon transpired that this was a perhaps less than ideal way to be spending almost every moment of my freetime in my final year of school. And scribbling away in chaotic Denglish was possibly not the best preparation for my German exams either. Miraculously, I scraped through final examinations with a ‘B’ (History) and two ‘C’ grades (French and German). The latter, interestingly, was a very hard school subject in those days, and remains equally so. This might explain my rather disappointing grade in my most favourite subject. Only around 9% of British pupils actually learn German – and most happily abandon the subject by the age of 16. No wonder Brits refer to it as ‘niche’ subject. Whatever educational value I felt might be derived from corresponding with a substantial proportion of the female teenage population in Germany obviously failed to manifest itself in my exam results.
Having written as many letters as I could physically manage each night I would crawl into bed, collapsing alongside my plastic-clad transistor radio. I habitually sent myself to sleep with Berichte von heute, North German Radio's roundup of the day's news. How much I was able to follow invariably depended on the strength of the crackly short-wave signal. Each morning I would awaken to dulcet tones of Radio Luxemburg's Fröhlicher Wecker, aka Axel Fitzke. This slightly less cocky German version of the BBC's Chris Evans invited his Germany-based listeners, and probably his sole follower in the UK, to wallow in a grand pêle-mêle of Deutsche Schlager and Euro pop. The latter – smash hits from Brittany to Bucharest – despite being sung in relatively comprehensible, albeit rather nonsensical English, never seemed to chart in Britain, strangely enough. The line-up included stars with dubious-sounding names such as Gazebo, Secret Service and Joy. Not to be confused, of course, with the somewhat more sophisticated Police and Joy Division, which most of my peers were into back then. But if Germans were unashamed fans of banal euro pop then it was good enough for me too.
In my last year of school I was, needless to say, obsessed with all things German. When classmates were kicking a ball around the playground or, more likely, slouched on sofas in the sixth form centre, my ears would be glued to headphones in the language lab, fervently following the latest episode of BBC Schools' Deutsch für die Oberstufe, which Herr Lawson kindly recorded each week just for me – I seemed to be the only one interested. 
Hence I spent my final school year specialising in the subjects I loved – foreign languages and history. The school careers advice centre, sadly, wasn’t the greatest of help in guiding me on what exactly to do with these subjects after school. Looking back, I should really have gone in for something more career-oriented, such as journalism or tourism management. Unsure what to do next, I was talked into doing a bone-dry, text-bookish Language and Linguistics degree course. I chose the University of Essex for one sole reason – the port of Harwich was just down the road, providing a convenient escape route to Germany. It was a few more years until no-frills airlines were to revolutionise the way we travelled abroad. For the time being it was the ferry for me.
Had you asked me, in those halcyon, pre-Brexit days, if I'd rather be German than British the answer would have been a resounding ‘Jaaaa!
This, then, is the story of my journey from Bath to deepest Lower Bavaria. And in this post-Brexit climate, an attempt to answer perhaps one of the toughest Anglo-German issues:
Can you really transform a Brit into a Bavarian?
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