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hhhecates · 2 years

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Modern AU! Genshin College Boys HCs pt 2

# — pairings: kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, kazuha

# — summary: second part of our college headcanons, this time featuring kazuha (and some more quick doodles of this pretty boy at the end). Here you can read part 1 and part 3 if you’d like.^^

# — warnings: none I think, just fluff, teasing cause kazuha is a menace, playful arguing, this came out so long I’m so sorry

# — tags: hc format, whole lot of fluff, strangers to rivals to friends to lovers kinda dynamic, college au, canon divergence

# — notes: And here we are to the next part of this series! I hope you’ll enjoy this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. Next up is probably xiao, though if you’d like to see someone else, feel free to tell me^^

- he's a theater major with a knack for play-writing. If you thought of him as a creative writing major, you'd be partially right. He actually was double majoring in both, but he dropped creative writing because he's way too picky and whimsical with his works. He hates having to mold his writing to fit assignments criteria, even more so since while he's a very dutiful student, he also only ever writes when inspiration strikes. Kazuha knows he can't force himself to, otherwise he will never be satisfied with the product, and he's known to be a perfectionist to a degree, so that simply won't do. So now he just sticks to theater; - fun fact, his major started out as an inside joke of sorts, Tomo would always point out that Kazuha was a super dramatic person, with his impromptu lines of poetry threw here and there and his smooth and calm behavior even in the most frantic circumstances; - it peaked one day, Tomo was so done with his shit, he just went "Archons Kazuha, since when you're so much of a comedian?" raising an annoyed eyebrow at him. Kazuha just looked at him, a concoction of amusement and challenge brewing in the red of his eyes "Since now." he shrugged, clicking a few more keys on the keyboard of his laptop before looking back at Tomo with a self-satisfied smile and turning off his computer; - now, Tomo has known Kazuha only for a few years, but he knows, he knows how Kazuha can be way too well. It didn't help that they were just discussing their options for college a few minutes before; - "Kazuha, what did you do?" but Kazuha didn't answer, he merely glanced back at him with sympathetic eyes, you don't need his voice to add ‘wouldn't you like to know?’ because his gaze speaks loud enough; - if you think that's how Kazuha chose to take up theater in college, you'd be very right. Did he ever regret it? Not one bit. Kazuha is not known for his impulsivity. That, he could never be. He'd rather call it,,, spontaneousness (is it even a word?). Which he quite often indulges, but Kazuha also reckons that those kind of decisions always turn out to be the best ones he's ever taken. So you could say that he is pretty confident of his choice in theater. Looking back now, he never regretted it either, and he's actually quite grateful to that little ‘argument’ he had with Tomo and how it led to his situation now; - not that he'd ever admit it either if he didn't like it, Kazuha is (unexpectedly) petty like that, and he'd probably see it through even if he didn't like it. Out of spite to Tomo who would be just waiting for a "I told you so" moment (since Kazuha is usually the one who chides him)? Yes. - Kazuha is also a literature minor. In particular Japanese and German literature; - it used to be Japanese and French literature, cause he really loves the language, Kazuha thinks it sounds so elegant and suave. But he came to really dislike how pompous and over the top its literature can be. Doesn't help that he wholeheartedly despises Parnassianism, all that ‘l'art pour l'art’ bullshit. Kazuha hates poetry and art generally speaking whose purpose is just to look pretty and show off. Don't even get him started on la Préciosité, because Kazuha could write a whole theater play mocking it just for the hell of it. He actually thought of doing it, thinks of it as his own little revamp of 'Les Préciouses Ridicules' of Molière, he loves the dude. (This is literally canon since when Beidou asked him to perform poetry for the crew he said “only if the mood takes me, of course. Poetry for poetry's sake tends to lack meaning." and since then, mind full of Kazuha getting huffy at the mere mention of Parnasse and Wilde and such); - he now switched to German literature. He didn't think he would have liked the language as much, but he actually finds it really charming. Also German poetry is right up his alley: blunt and straight to the point, but with burning, strong metaphors and oh so prettily crafted lines. He finds law and order that give him balance but also a pawing sense of freedom and desire of understanding woven in it, something he deeply enjoys and that never fails to leave him all giddy and craving for more; - Kazuha is the kind of person that dresses in this super sophisticated light academia aesthetic. Soft neutral colours, and sometimes just a dash of a dignified red hue that could make him stand out in a crowd of thousands. Brown polished shoes always shining, big over-sized blazers he probably got in some thrift store (dragging you along with him), pretty flowy blouses and fluffy scarves that cocoon him and make him look even softer. His long hair unfailingly swept in a casual but somehow still orderly ponytail; - people look at him and they know that he is the embodiment of a humanities/literature student, like come on, he looks like he's straight out of one of those novels he loves so much; - Kazuha is legitimately everyone's crush at university, and how could you blame them? No matter that he's quite the introvert, he would still offer a polite smile and a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement to everyone on campus. He's always so polite and eager to help, lending a hand to the old librarian to sort out all the books in the literature section and so graciously offering to close up for her on the days she needs to get home early to take care of her nephews. Kazuha who stops every time he sees someone struggling to carry a heavy pile of books or bags, immediately sweeps in and carries them in their stead, his effortless kindness always managing to make him late to his own appointments, but who could be mad at him and his sheepish smile? - you. That's who. You refuse to fall for his tricks. Well- let's back track a little, shall we? You don't have anything against Kazuha, no no, absolutely not. Nope. Aside from the fact that half of your friends have an annoyingly obvious crush on him and basically give him heart eyes every time he sits in three rows of vicinity to where you're sitting during lectures. You and Kazuha share your German Lit class, and again, while being quite the introvert, Kazuha never wastes an opportunity to swoop right in and make his opinions everyone's problem known whenever the professor asks if someone would like to add something. And of course, local pretty boy has always something to say; - and today is no different. You usually don't mind too much, you actually enjoy an output that's not only your professor's, helps you see things in a different perspective and more often than not you find yourself nodding along as a bunch of students discuss about a poem or give their different interpretation of a particular metaphor and jottle down some notes for yourself. But it can become really frustrating when the sheer stubbornness of one student can stall the entire lecture until they have it their way. And of course the student in question is Kazuha. You nearly pull your hair put of your scalp as Kazuha refutes yet again one of your poor fellow classmates trying to defend the purpose of ‘die neue Sprache’ of German Symbolism in this one poem you're trying, keyword, trying to analyse;

- you're not the kind of student that brazenly takes the word to rebuke someone else, sure you have your own opinions, stand firmly behind them and would never back down if questioned, but you never felt the need to put yourself under the spotlight, expose your ideas on a silver platter for another say 100 students to turn their heads and listen to you and you only. But you also have really been looking forward to German Symbolism, one of your favourite authors was in program today, but Kazuha is still picking apart at the poem on hand, explaining in the most polite and reverent way how stupid it was for the author to write a poem about a belt buckle and compare it to words and languages (if you know this one poem, know that I love you); - so when your professor heavens a sigh and asks if there's someone else who would like to intervene (and try to shake Kazuha's unyielding opinion), you stand up from your seat, eager to wipe the expectant smirk on his face, and you start your own apologia. Two can play this game; - you end up going back and fort for the rest of the lecture, both of you refusing to back down, to give in to the other. Kazuha's known to be like that, sweet words turning sly and biting whenever he argues, though he would hardly refer to it as such, it's fun to him. And you can tell, it's fun to him to cradle words close to him and also to pry and break them open, to find a contradiction, hesitation in your thoughts. But you don't give him the satisfaction to. Kazuha is a little of the teacher's pet as well. It's not even his fault really, he's just so good that professors can't help but adore him. It's hard to come on par with someone like him. Honestly though, you just want to get your damn lecture over with, and if that's going to entail having to shut Kazuha up, then you'll gladly oblige; - after awhile, that one poem you started with, and whose name you've long forgotten, isn't even a point in your discussion at all, it's just an excuse, you know, hell, everyone knows it, because both of you are ignited in sheer competitiveness. It's a matter of pride and misery, of tattered words and unspoken stubbornness, like the entire class is your stage, for you to take, for the other students to behold, be your audience in this weird and brash dance. Heads are turning from one side to the other bemusedly, probably the students at the far back are snickering and betting on who's going to win this. Even your professor looks beyond amused. But you don't see it, don't see anything of it, you only see Kazuha, still standing from his seat across the room, in the firsts rows; - the sound of the bell, telltale of the end of the lesson, is the only thing that manages to stop you and Kazuha right in your tracks. You hold your breath, see him do the same as you throw one last glance at him before sitting back down and starting to pack up your stuff; - your little stunt isn't forgotten quite easily, next week you see some students exchanging knowing glances as they look at you taking a seat in German lit class. You're starting to regret your actions. Even more so when the professor announces a group project and purposely, because you know she did it on purpose, pairs you and Kazuha together. You groan and bang your head on the desk, so much for keeping a low profile and just following your classes; - on the bright side, the poet you are assigned is your absolute favourite. On the other hand, he's also the greatest symbolist poet in German literature, so you're going to have a field trip with Kazuha and his apparent dislike for Symbolism; - so when lecture is over, you don't waste your time trying to talk it out with Kazuha, and you bolt straight for the library, convinced on getting the project done by yourself; - it's exactly in the library that you meet him, while trying to balance three different volumes about the author of your project while reaching out for for another book of french poetry (that one just out of your own whim) on the highest shelf; - "There you are." you shriek and almost let the book fall straight on your head if it weren't for Kazuha's sharp reflexes. He swipes right in, gently takes the volume in his own hands, though when he turns it around and inspects the title, his brows furrow in obvious distaste; - he tuts disapprovingly, and you swear you're this close to let the other books fall on his feet and leave him there; - "Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse." that does get your attention, you quickly snatch the book right back, cradle it protectively against your chest, so much that Kazuha almost apologizes at the sight of you looking so fondly at a mere collection of words and paper. You could very much stomp away and never talk to him ever again, ask your professor to pair you up with someone else for this stupid project, or just notify her that you'd like to do it on your own altogether. You don't owe Kazuha anything, you could leave him there and he'd probably take the hint and don't bother you again. You could. But you don't. It's too easy, something in the back of your mind says. So you unexpectedly grab his wrist, soon receiving a questioning look from Kazuha himself, your eyes are harsh and challenging, a hint of annoyance that makes Kazuha's skin tingle, but your grip on him instead is gentle and unsure, asking for consent, he subconsciously nods his head at you, and you proceed to dragging him along to one of the tables of the library where he spots your backpack occupying one of the seats; - you don't even give him time to ask questions, and you don't question his apparent dislike for French literature either, as soon as he's sitting down, you slam open the poetry book like you know its contents by heart and present him with a poem by Pierre de Ronsard; - "Mignonne, allons voir si la rose..." he mumbles out half distracted, you can tell even in a few words, his accent is much more fluid than you anticipated, he might not like French literature, but you can tell that he at least gave it a chance, and that makes you respect him a little more; - "How quaint." he chuckles, and he doesn't say it outright, but you know what he means ‘how banal’, "Are roses your favourite flower? Is that why you like this poem so much?" his sonorous voice mocks. Ode structure, octosyllabes (typical for French poetry in that period), four verses of sixteen lines each. Metaphor of beauty through roses. Kazuha wrinkles his nose in distaste. He's seen too much of this, and pristine structures and empty pretty words just aren't his thing; - "No." you say, he looks back at you, one inquisitive brow raised "I quite dislike roses too. But when I read this poem, it makes me wonder if maybe they are my favourite flower after all." that does get his attention, he discards the book in favor for you instead, you almost shy away under his gaze, but you will yourself not to crumble. You don't answer him, again (Kazuha doesn't know if frustration or anticipation that takes over him). Instead, you present him with a new poem, one from the author you were assigned to for your project, and from the crease of his brows he probably already knows it. You try to take no offence in the way he's looking at you favourite poem of all times. 'Ich fürchte mich vor der menschen Wort', 'I am afraid of human words', admittedly, one of the poems Kazuha despites the most, to be expected really, given his affinity towards words themselves. Though he'd never admit that he never bothered reading the thing, the title was enough to keep him away. You don't ask him to read it, you just point at one of the lines in the middle of the whole poem. Kazuha wants to say there's no point in taking few words out of their pretty scheme and try to make sense of them, but he doesn't have the time to think, doesn't have the time to rebut. "Start from here. 'Ihr Garten und Gut grenzt grade an Gott.' " you recite verbatim without even looking at the page. 'You put your own 'God' to stand between 'garden' and 'good' '. Kazuha shivers, and he doesn't know if it's the desperation of your voice when you recite poetry to him, or the poetry itself, he only knows that he's suddenly afraid of the answer; - the project goes surprisingly very well from then, you'd dare say you made Kazuha change his mind from his previous stance on Symbolism, but the thought alone sounds quite preposterous. Really? Kazuha?; - after handing the final project in, you heave a breath of relief, thinking of finally going back to before Kazuha; - but you quickly find that there's no 'before Kazuha' no more. That boy simply won't leave you alone; - Kazuha who slips cheeky poetry lines in your textbooks that make your eyes widen and your cheeks heat up while he brazenly smiles at you from across the hall (how the hell did he even get access to your stuff, to this day this is still beyond you); - he gets you hooked on Japanese literature too, shows you all his favourites, recites Hokushi's haikus to you, Experimenting I hung the moon on various branches of the Pine. And he looks at you, like you are the one who hung the moon for him. Whispers to you dan 69 of the Ise Monogatari like it's you and him who share a tale of forbidden love. If you stare for too long you might just think that he's true; - Kazuha who takes you by the hand, ignoring your half-hearted protests, drags you through narrow streets, shows you the best sights, best bakeries (where he insists on buying you the pastries you have, not so secretly, been eyeing), still holding your hand as he ushers you in his favourite vintage shops, chuckling at the way your mouth gapes at the sight of so many antiques, excitedly brings you to the book section just to see your eyes sparkle at the sight of old french poetry books. He tugs on your fingers "Let's play a game, I'll buy a book that reminds me of you. You buy a book that reminds you of me, then we’ll gift it to each other." and before you can say anything, he has already disappeared behind the many shelves; - Kazuha who invites you at his dorm more often than not, whines and complains if you try to come up with excuses. He's always so much softer in the privacy of his own room, hair more often than not let down from his signature ponytail, he bleats and grumbles about how his scalp hurts from all the tugging. You card your fingers through his hair to offer him some relief, and he quickly melts into your touch, leaning heavily in your hands before completely dropping down you lap and nuzzling into you. He reminds you of the white cat his roommate Tomo is so fond of. He closes his eyes and sighs contentedly, hums when you gently scrape at his nape, his own way of silently telling you not to stop, that still doesn't help how hot your cheeks feel, but he doesn't need to know that; - it's while brushing his hair and tracing your fingers along the many piercings adorning his ears (a couple of low helix, one standard lobe piercing per ear, one of which occasionally sports a fun dangly earring that suits him way too well) that you find the tattoo sitting gracefully at the back of his neck, it's a simple maple leaf in soft hues that remind you of watercolours for the way they blend with his skin, you can't help the strangled noise that escapes your throat; - "You have a tattoo?!" you're not even guilty of the accusatory tone of your voice. Kazuha clicks his tongue, probably displeased of the fact that your fingers stopped their work on his scalp. He looks at you, one inch away from sleep. He's all slurry and cute when he's sleepy (you'd know from the ungodly amount of times he asked you to 'sleep over because it has gotten too late for you to be out') but sleepy Kazuha also happens to lose all his filters and thus be even cheekier than usual (you don't even know how that's possible to begin with); - he chuckles, deeper than his usual tone, his gaze is nothing but teasing as he looks up at you "I didn't know it was something that would find you so interested." you hand still rested in his hair, you give it a little tug for good measure as a response to his taunting, but your chiding action quickly backfires on you when Kazuha gasps breathlessly. Archons, he's going to kill you one day, one very close day if he keeps this up; - "It's just,,, something I didn't know about you." you shrug lamely, he fully laughs at that, you feel his trembling against you. "There are quite a few things that you don't know about me." he croons, hand coming to cup your chin, he had recently took up the habit to brush his thumb over your bottom lip, a gesture meant to pacify you, but really, again, he's going to kill you if he keeps this up; - "Like,,," you take a brief pause for a more dramatic effect "That you play the saxophone?" he looks at you, eyes wide in surprise, now it's your turn to laugh "You have a saxophone case in the corner of your room, and quite the stack of music sheets too. Though those seem to be written for piano." you muse, tapping your chin. The grin he offers you in response is nothing but proud at your keen observation "Good." he praises "I do in fact play both of those instruments. Though the music sheets are only for piano because I'm in a band and therefore tend to prioritize it."; - you let the information sit for awhile before speaking again. "Will you let me hear?" he hums appreciatively, turns his head to bury it in your stomach. "Do you want to?" you just nod at him, unable to conceal your excitement. He chuckles. It sounds like a promise.

Here’s some lil doodles for college kazuha^^

I got so carried away writing this-- I’m so sorry. I get like this when literature is involved. I miss taking French and German literature in high school so much ahh. Also excuse my lack of detailing when it came to Japanese literature, I’m quite rusty on that.

#kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha #kazuha fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kazuha headcanons #kazuha imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin modern au #genshin albedo #genshin xiao #genshin aether #genshin childe #genshin venti #genshin imagines #kaedehara kazuha

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tea-and-spoons · 3 years

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What happens when... I develop a new food allergy?

Whether this is your first food allergy, or the most recent in a long list, it can still be a rough adjustment and overwhelming amount of change. But as someone who has gone through this more than twenty times, I promise you it’s not the end of the world.

The majority of this post is related to severe, anaphylactic food allergies, but I’m of course always going to advocate for being careful, and some of this will apply to milder allergies too. This advice also works if you were just diagnosed with celiac disease, or another condition that makes you sensitive to cross contamination. I’m going to let your doctor handle the medical side of this, but I’m hoping this post will cover all the other things you need to know!

I made some pretty thorough lists of things to check, replace, or clean to make sure you’re safe from allergens- I’ll put those at the end of this post. It is a lot- recruit a non-allergic friend to help if you can!

But before I get into the lists, here are some other things I’ve learned about getting a new food allergy.

-Update your doctors, including your dentist. And also update any emergency info you have around, like your medical ID in your phone.

-Research other names for your allergen and what it might be found in. Food labelling can be very sneaky, which is Not Cool, but you get really good at reading ingredient labels once you know what to look for. I would stay away from googling too many other allergy related things though, it’s an easy way to get into a panic.

-Talk to the people you live with. Hopefully they’re good about it, but they might take a while to understand, or might even be angry and resistant, which honestly is beyond me. If this is your situation, I am so so sorry. You deserve to feel safe in your own home, no matter what. If you can set some ground rules and get people on board even a little bit, that will help, and hopefully everyone will come around eventually.

-You should also talk to your partner, or anyone you might be kissing (or who might be kissing you, even on the cheek. Hi grandma.) Their foods, medications, reusable water bottles, and toothbrush are all possible ways you could get sick. So even if they haven’t eaten allergens in hours, it could still be on their toothbrush and that can be enough to cause a reaction. This research article (Maloney JM, et al. Peanut allergen exposure through saliva: assessment and interventions to reduce exposure. J Allergy Clin Immunol 2006; 118: 719-724.) found that waiting at least an hour and having something allergen free to eat was the best way to de-poison-ify for someone you want to kiss. I’ve also heard from other allergists that 3-4 hours is the right number. So I would ask your allergist what they recommend for you.

(note: I would like to keep this blog safe and friendly for spoonies of all ages, but if you are in need of more information about dating and allergies, feel free to message me and I’ll send you some links!)

-One thing that surprised me with some of my food allergies was the cravings. Sometimes I never want to even hear the word “pineapple” again, but especially if it was something like eggs that are more a hidden ingredient, I struggled with cravings for foods I couldn’t have anymore, like French toast. And I’m not even someone who likes food that much! So I’m here to tell you that the cravings are normal, and will subside in a few weeks. It also helps to just not be around things you can’t eat for a bit. And to look for replacement recipes for your favorites- there’s so much out there, it’s really impressive.

-The other common (emotional) reaction is anxiety. Anaphylactic food allergies can be life threatening, of course you’re scared! It is 100% normal to be worried and afraid and anxious and terrified, especially after an allergic reaction. That response happens to help keep you safe! But it’s also exhausting, and can get out of control. My best advice here is to follow the concrete steps you need to be safe, and then tell yourself that you’ve done everything you can, you know what you’re doing, and even if something goes wrong, you know you are prepared. You can be prepared and careful AND not have to be scared all the time. There is zero shame in seeing a therapist about this too, they can really help. (My advice here is borrowed from my lovely therapist!)

And here are the lists I mentioned earlier! I hope this helps you feel safer and more prepared. Severe food allergies are a big change, but you got this!

Things to replace:

-Toothbrush (and maybe toothpaste too)

-Any food that is still safe but might be cross contaminated (like flour, sugar, spices, things that go on toast… basically any open containers)

-Kitchen sponges and rags and anything else that gets used to hand wash dishes

-Chapstick and lipstick

-Stim toys that go in your mouth

-Cast iron kitchen equipment

-Cutting boards

-Reeds (if you play a reed instrument)

-Ice cubes, if you have a tray in your freezer that people reach into

Things to clean:

-Kitchen itself, including all appliances and countertops

-Anywhere else food is kept or eaten (such as pantry, dining room, couch, in your purse, desk, locker)

-All cooking supplies (plates, pans, silverware, crockpot, basically everything)

-Potholders and oven mitts

-Pillowcases

-Dish towels

-Doorknobs

-Handles

-Light switches

-Remotes

-Cloth napkins

-Reusable water bottles

-Kitchen drawers that might have gotten crumbs or residue in them

-Retainer or mouthguard

-Lunchbox

-Toys and fidgets

-Purse/backpack

-Writing utensils

-Car steering wheel, controls, and handles (especially if you’re the driver)

-Inhaler, spacer, nebulizer, CPAP mask, and other related equipment

-Oral thermometer

-Face masks

-Phone, computer keyboards, touch screens

-Hand or wrist braces

-Video game controllers

-Any musical instruments you play, but especially if it’s a wind instrument. Plus the case, and any cleaning equipment.

-Whatever your toothbrush is stored in

Things to check the labels on:

-All your food (what you have at home, and anything new you buy)

-Toothpaste

-Floss

-Shampoo and other hair products

-Hand soap and dish soap

-Deodorant

-Makeup and chapstick

-Medications

-Lotions

-Sunblock

-Pet food (if their food turns out to contain your new allergen, you might want to clean or replace their toys as well. And a bath for the pet themselves!)

If I missed anything on my lists, please feel free to add on in the replies! If you need someone to talk to or have questions, you’re welcome to message me. And I promise this gets easier 💙

#food allergy #food allergies #anaphylaxis #epipen #mast cell activation disorder #mast cell activation syndrome #MCAD #MCAS #celiac disease #celiac #teaandspoons #chronic illness advice #disability #rare disease

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julie-thefatones · 3 years

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Ghost of You || Luke x Reader || Part 4

A/N: Your best friends with Julie, since the stamp was removed from the boys they are able to be seen by lifers at choice and can touch lifers at choice, but are still ghosts. You and Luke grow closer and closer starting to go from friends to more than that and everyone starts to notice, it just takes a little longer for you two to figure it out.

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3

Side Note: The song that Luke "writes" about Y/N is in fact Moving Along by 5 SOS look it up its a good one

Word Count: 3,088

WARNINGS: 16+ (Sexual References)

It had been weeks since yours and Lukes encounter, in fact you guys have barely talked.... Anytime you guys hung out it was always with the group and only the group and every time he would barely even look at you, you didnt really know what to think of it .... you missed him, yeah you knew that it was gonna be different than before but not this different... You were walking out of 4th period when Carrie came jogging down the hall to catch up with you "Hey Y/N! im gonna walk with you" She said in her normal high pitched Carrie voice, you gave her a shy but inviting smile and then hugged your books to your chest, you hadn't really felt like your self since this whole thing happened, Carrie could see the sadness in your demeanor "Are you okay Y/N? you have been down for like..... weeks" Carried asked with concern, you kind of sighed because thinking about it was hard enough let alone talking about, but you thought your friend deserved an explanation, you glanced in Carries direction "Not really" you said with sadness in your voice "Me and Luke had an... incident so to speak a few weeks ago and it kind of caused a rift in our friendship and now he won't even look at me or talk to me....." you sighed and looked down at the floor "I miss him" you said in a barely audible sad tone, Carrie came closer to you and put a gentle hand on your back showing she cared "Can I ask ... what happened between you and Luke.... you guys were so close, like it was rare to ever see you guys not together" Carrie asked in a soft tone trying not to be pushy, you contemplated on telling her or not *What do I got to loose* you thought to yourself then stopped walking, turning to face Carrie

"Okay.... you just cant tell anyone okay" you said getting close enough to Carrie so that only she could hear what you were saying, her eyes widened with intrigue "Yeah, I promise Y/N" she said urgently to insure you knew that she wouldn't tell a soul "Me and Luke......" you started saying, then stopping to look side to side, to make sure that no one was listening to what you were saying, then looking straight back into Carries eyes "Me and Luke, almost slept together... like it was going to happen but then ... Alex and Reggie Poofed in and then it was a huge mess and then Me and Luke agreed to just be friends and now we are here" You said in a slight urgent whisper, Carries mouth was wide open with shock with her eyes bugged out of her head "Carrie?" you said widening your eyes in concern to why she wasn't answering yet "Carrie!" you exclaimed in hopes she would snap out of it "YOU AND LUKE WHAT!" she yelled in which you immediately slammed your hand over her mouth "Can you not yell maam" you said with tight lips and wide eyes, Carrie shook her head yes under your mouth and relaxed, you released your hand from her mouth in which she started talking instantly "Im sorry! you and Luke what? why am I just now hearing this" Carrie exclaimed in a whispered tone, you sighed and continued walking down the hallway, in which she followed after you "Because I didnt want anyone to know .... I didnt want to make a big deal.... especially since Luke isn't even talking to me ..... I don't know... I just really really miss him" You said in a melancholy tone, Carrie looked at you as if she was gonna say something and then Alex poofed in right in front of you and Carrie, stopping you both in your tracks "Woah! Hey Alex" You said in a high pitched tone, you thought you would be used to them popping in like that by now but you weren't "Luke misses you too! hes driving me crazy" Alex exclaims motioning his hands from his head like he is going out of his mind, You just look at Alex not really knowing what to say, Carrie just looking back and forth from you to Alex waiting for one of you to speak again, Alex continues on with his rant "Y/N! hes so mopey, hes just sitting around all day writing in his stupid freaking song book with his sad Luke face! and anytime I try to ask him to do something or ask him what wrong he just looks at me with that face you know that Luke face that is just like brooding and HIS LUKE

FACE!" Alex says in frustration all while pacing back and forth in front of you guys, messing with his hair in frustration and annoyance, and then he abruptly stops in front of you with wild eyes, grabbing both your shoulders "Y/N! you gotta go make up with him or something! I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE!" Alex exclaims, you had to admit this was slightly entertaining you couldn't help but chuckle, but then you sighed thinking about the *You gotta make up with him* part of what Alex said "Theres nothing to make up, we aren't fighting ..... we just ..... I guess aren't as close as we were" You said back to your sad voice , Alex rolls his eyes throwing his hands up in the air doing a slight twirl to face away from you and then a quick motion back to face you "BULL CRAP! YOU GUYS CANT GO FROM ALMOST BONING EACH OTHER TO NOT TALKING AT ALL THAT FAST!! YOU GUYS NEED TO TALK! NOW" Alex exclaims, now pushing you toward the door, Carrie just laughing and then following after to not miss anything "GET HIM OUT OF MY STUDIO, AND FIX HIM!" Alex continues pushing you out the door, him and Carrie just standing in the hallway looking out the door as you walk down the street in major confusion to what just happened, Alex sighs "I really hope I got through to her but wasn't like mean ya know" he says tilting his head to the side as he watched you walk away through the school doors, Carrie tilting her head in the same direction but snapping it up ward to look at Alex "No I think you did a great job! very well executed" She said with reassurance, Alex snaps his head up to look back at her "Thank you, ya know I just ..... I really want Luke out of the studio" He said bringing his hand to heart.

As you walked down the street you decided you weren't gonna go see Luke, it just felt too weird and you didnt want to impose, you just decided to go home... you just wanted to sleep! not talk to anyone or deal with anyone! just sleep! you thought to yourself....... your feet dragged you up the stairs into your room, you slammed the door and face planted on your bed when you noticed something in the corner of your eye... It was your guitar, Luke had kept it with him since he gifted it to you just to keep it safe, but there it was, with its own stand and everything, then you noticed a note sticking out of the strings, you quickly rolled out of your bed to stumble over and read it, you gently pulled the note out of the strings being careful not to damage the guitar in any way, the front of the note read To: Y/N you could tell it was Luke who left it there because of the awful, but cute hand writing, it smelled like him and you thought that was a weird thing to think but .... you missed that smell, you took a moment thinking about the last time you breathed in his scent.... flashing back to the night you guys almost..... you shook your head bringing your self back to focus and opening the letter

Dear Y/N,

Hey.... long time no talk eh? how are you? I don't know why im asking that this is a letter not a text message..... anyway! here's your guitar, figured it wouldn't be any good to ya if you didnt have it. It didnt have a strap or anything so I took the liberty of picking one out for you, I figured you would like this one it has checkers all over it, It will match your vans... and my vans too! thats pretty cool .... I almost bought one for my self I think still might, look at us matching guitar straps! Reggie is gonna be so jealous! Anyway, I hope your doing good ... Oh! and good luck on you French test! I know you were nervous about that, I know youre gonna rock it! you always do

-Luke

You closed the letter holding it to your chest and smiling, you lightly lifted the guitar strap with your finger to look at it, you chuckled noticing that you were actually wearing your checkered vans today. You removed your finger letting the strap fall gently back to place, you sighed curling your legs up to your chest. You remembered that the band had a show tonight... *Should I go?* you thought to your self... you initially thought you wouldn't go, but it would be nice to support your friends, and maybe you and Luke should talk *Okay Im gonna go!* you thought to your self confidently, but first you needed a nap.

It was 7:00pm, you arrived at the venue of the gig 30 minutes before their performance, the place was packed! you knew you should have gotten their earlier, but it was hard enough to get out of bed to get here... wasn't exactly easy for you.

You danced along with the bands that were on before Julie and the boys, you noticed Flynn and Carrie across the venue, they noticed you back waving their hands in the air in excitement for you to join them, You grow a big smile and excitedly run over to join them... you hug them in a greeting, and just then you heard the announcer say "Please put your hands together for Julie and The Phantoms" the crowd goes wild, Julie and the boys had become quite popular in your town, You, Carrie, and Flynn made it a point to be the loudest ones out of everyone though. Julie entered the stage, alone like she always did, she made her way over to the keyboard and sat down. She pressed one button on the keyboard in order for the boys to poof on stage, Luke immediately starts singing while simultaneously playing the guitar "Thinking bout you lots lately! Have you been eating breakfast alone like me! Thinking bout you lots lately Oh are you moving along!" You had never heard this song before, it must have been new, Luke played and sang effortlessly, you didnt really notice the lyrics until you noticed Carrie and Flynn looking at you with curious wide eyes, Luke sang with such passion in his voice, he always did but this time seemed different. When the bridge came Luke found you in the crowd his eyes getting big but then locking his eyes with yours as he sang, not breaking his stare, singing "Scared of moving on, but you're already gone So if you're moving on, won't you just tell me? Scared of moving on, but you're already gone So if you're moving on, won't you just tell me?" As soon as the bridge ended he broke your gaze, you shook your head in order to get your self to recover, you look over at Carrie and Flynn who were watching you for your reaction, you look back up at the stage, Luke and Reggie were doing their classic move of sharing the mic during the chorus, then Luke broke off, playing the melody on his guitar with such... what seemed like anger, or frustration. You started questioning if you should have even come tonight *Was this a mistake..... he looks mad* you thought to yourself, now biting your thumb due to your new anxiety toward the situation. When the song ended Luke shook his hair which was now damp with sweat, and then he stared at you, you couldn't tell what his emotions were at this moment.... *oh boy, how am I gonna make it through this night* you thought to your self.

The band had a great set, after the new song they played Finally Free, which was one of your favorites, then they did Bright. You were really proud of your best friend and how successful her and the boys were becoming. The whole event was over and the place was now pretty much empty, it was just you, Carrie, and Flynn waiting for Julie and the Boys to come out from the back. You were super nervous to see Luke, you didnt know what to say, was that song about you? you wondered to your self.... in the middle of your internal crisis you saw Julie coming from the back with Alex, Reggie following behind all smiling and then Luke shortly after them, he wasn't smiling though, he was just anxiously messing with the hair behind his head. Carrie and Flynn ran up to Julie to give her a hug to congratulate her on the show, you broke your gaze from Luke in order to do the same, you quickly ran over to give your best friend a hug "Congrats Jules! that was an amazing show!" you exclaimed and then motioned to the boys "All of you!" you said looking at all of them, and then setting your eyes on Luke just a little longer than everyone else, he just shyly smiled in response "Thanks Y/N!" Reggie Exclaimed "Did you like the first song? Luke wrote it about you!" Reggie continued with a big smile and a slight chuckle at the end, Lukes eyes widened with annoyance, Alex just turned slowly to face Reggie, his eye twitching in the process, Reggie just looked confused at both of them "What? was she not supposed to know" Reggie asked like he really didnt know, You just stood there shyly, not really knowing what to say, Carries eyes widened "Well!! Flynn! Julie! Alex! and Reggie! I think there is something over here you guys should see its really cool?" Carrie said breaking the awkward tension, or trying to at least, motioning everyone in to the other side of the venue in order to give you and Luke some privacy "Why whats over here?" Reggie asked confused, in which Alex pulled his arm with annoyance rolling his eyes "Just come on reg!" Alex said with a frustrated tone pulling him in the direction Carrie was leading everyone. Soon enough they all disappeared behind a curtain on the other side of the venue, You turned to look at Luke who had his hands in his front pockets, he looked up to make eye contact with you, a half smile appeared on his face as you guys shared a look, you couldn't help but smile a little too. Luke lifted one leg up and then hoped forward to get closer to you "Soooo....." He said as if he didnt know what to do next, You put your hands in your back pockets, then motioned your shoulders forward a little "Sooooo" You echoed back to him, he chuckled "Did you like the show?" He said motioning toward the stage, you nodded your head yes "Yeah!! you guys rocked it as usual" You said, you felt awkward because you had so many things you wanted to say but you didnt want to overwhelm him or feel like you were over stepping, He made a slight whistle shaking his head yes then looking down at his foot which was resting on its heel motioning side to side, "Was that song really about me?" You blurted out with out even thinking, or realizing what you were doing, Luke froze and then looked up with wide eyes, his lips still pursed from whistling and then he relaxed his position putting his foot down and removing his hands from his pockets "Okay, we're just gonna jump right into it..... yeah! it was" he said with a slightly frustrated tone, you bit your lip not really understanding "Wh- why?" you asked truly wondering why he wrote it, you guys both agreed to be friends and you guys never dated so what was there to move on from, he looked at you scrunching his eyebrows together "Why?" He said back confused to why you were confused, you don't know why but you were getting angry "Yeah!" You said throwing your hands in the air "Why Luke! Why everything! Why have you been avoiding me! why have you been so absent!!!" You exclaimed, starting to tear up "So what we almost slept together! BIG DEAL! THAT DOESNT MEAN YOU HAVE TO CUT ME OFF! THAT DOESNT ME YOU

HAVE TO

TURN AWAY FROM ME!" You didnt realize it but you were yelling, tears were streaming down your face, you wiped your tears with the sleeve of your jacket "I missed you so much..... so much Luke..... so yeah why?" you said softer with a crack in your voice, Luke bit his lip in frustration "You wanna know why?!" he exclaimed moving one step closer to you "Because you mean more to me than I could ever imagine someone meaning to me, youre the most amazing person I have ever met!" He exclaimed, now him growing tears in his eyes "AND WHEN YOU KEPT SAYING WE'RE JUST FRIENDS IT EFFING BROKE ME INSIDE BECAUSE IM SO IN LOVE WITH YOU THAT IT HURTS! OKAY! THAT THE FACT YOU DONT WANT ANYTHING MORE THAN JUST FRIEND SHIP KILLS ME INSIDE! SO YEAH I AVOIDED SEEING YOU BECAUSE EVERYTIME I SAW YOU THE PAIN WAS UNBEARABLE BECAUSE ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS GRAB YOU AND HOLD YOU IN MY ARMS AND CALL YOU MINE!" He yelled, grabbing his hair in frustration "There ya go! thats why!" he exclaimed finishing his statement, You stood there gathering the ends of your jacket sleeve in your fists, looking at Luke with red puffy eyes, and before you could respond Luke picked up his guitar, wiped his eyes and poofed out.

#Luke Patterson #Luke Patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #Luke Patterson fanfic #Luke Patterson fan fiction #Jatp luke #jatp Luke fanfic #jatp Luke x reader #jatp Luke x y/n #Charlie gillespie #Marys fanfic #Charlie Gillespie luke

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clearsky · 3 years

Text

My Top Comfort Characters/Kins and My Main HCs For Them

(Note, not all my kins/comfort characters are on here, just the ones I have more than 5 hcs for)

CW: Korekiyo Shinguji (DRV3), Himiko Yumeno (DRV3), Shinsou Hitoshi (BNHA), Kyoko Kirigiri (THH), Tsuyu Asui (BNHA), Entrapta (Spop), Ibuki Mioda (SDR2), Celestia Ludenberg (THH), Funtime Foxy (FNAF), Peril (WOF)

Korekiyo Shinguji (DRV3)

Nonbinary

He/They pronouns

Autistic

Chains and loose accessories are for stimming

Likes the feeling of silk and cotton

Can't stand the feeling of anything rough or bumpy

He likes collecting small trinkets and the bones of small mammals

Can't stand anything salty. He'll eat it but he certainly won't enjoy it

Dating Rantaro

Can flirt, but only if he doesn't try

Petnames are a hell yea

Gets sunburnt really easily

Group dates with Celesnaegiri and Ikuzono

Can't cook for s h i t

Had a scene kid phase in middle school

Went to the same middle school as Celeste and Maki

Knew them when Celeste went through her "I'm not like other girls" phase and Maki was a Band Kid™

Himiko Yumeno (DRV3)

Female

She/Her pronouns

Lesbian

Can force herself to fall asleep within seconds regardless of where she is

100% forces herself to fall asleep when she doesn't wanna listen/talk to someone

Himiko/Angie/Tenko relationship. I'm calling them the Traffic Light Trio

She likes taking naps in the forest

She prefers enclosed/tight spaces more than open ones

Has several hundred stress balls and squishies laying around

She overheats easy

Shinsou Hitoshi (BNHA)

Questioning his gender, but goes by any pronouns

Knows he's Asexual, at least

Has no clue what his romantic orientation is though

The kind of person to carry treats in his pocket just in case he runs into a cat

Will stop to pet literally every cat he comes across

Great at reading people

Doesn't talk unless it's 100% needed

Hangs with Tokoyami, Jirou, and Denki most often

Aizawa has 100% unofficially adopted him

Fosters kittens

Not a big fan of physical touch

He is 100% in the bakusquad. Anyone who says he's in the Dekusquad is a c o w a r d

He and Tsuyu vibe

Knows a bunch of random facts

Dark humour? Dark humour

*skates backwards into his therapist's room slowly sipping from an absurdly huge cup of coffee* Candice you're not gonna BELIEVE the shit I just went through

In case I forgot to mention it, he skates

Kyoko Kirigiri (THH)

Mtf

She/Her

Bi with female preference

Burns go up to her shoulders/collarbone/chest

Prefers to just listen as opposed to saying anything

Knows a ton of random trivia about everyone else in her class

She keeps a notebook she fills with all the trivia

Doesn't celebrate her birthday. She just doesn't see the point of it

Doesn't hate sugar/sweets, but if given the choice she would choose literally everything else

Cuts her own hair

A cat person

Permanent dark circles

T-Tall 😳

Like,,, 6'1 at LEAST

Only person taller than her is Yasuhiro (6'3)

Canon no longer exist

Ahahaha healthy life habits? What are those?

Can't handle horror games

She's the kind of person you'd go to if you needed to rant but didn't want any advice

Polyamourous yo

Celeste/Kyoko/Makoto

She's a dom yall are just scared to admit it

Tsuyu Asui (BNHA)

They go by They/Them

Lesbian

They and Ochaco are dating

They like to hang with Shinsou

Which mainly just means the two sitting in one of their dorms in near total silence doing whatever

Can speak English and French as well as Japanese

Learned English from cartoons

Picked up French bc they thought it'd be fun

Prefers to stay neutral in the whole Bakusquad / Dekusquad thing

They're invited to all outings/events by/for both squads

They like puns

They're a dumbass but willingly, and for fun

Like "someone says they like dark humour and they'll turn off the lights before telling a joke" kind dumbass for fun

Great at poker

Likes Disney Movies

Very touchy once you get close enough

Not in a sexual way, just likes physical contact

Especially fond of piggyback rides and cuddles

Extreme fear of needles

Entrapta (She-Ra)

She/Her or It/Its

Doesn't bother trying to figure out whether she's cis, trans, nonbinary, or what

Was AMAB though

Short as fuck (4'7)

Strong as fuck though

Cuddle game strong

Physical touch is a fuck yes

Cuddles

Piggyback rides

Hugs

Anything where she's touching someone is wonderful in her book

As long as she's the one that initiates it

Anyone else touching her without her permission makes her freak

Prefers being high up

Makes it harder for anyone to sneak up on her

An ace at video games

When it comes to sexuality she just says she's Questioning

Ibuki Mioda (SDR2)

Any pronouns + Pup/Pupself + It/Its

No idea what their gender is otherwise

Biromantic Asexual

Just likes sexual jokes

Gets distracted easily

Has severe hearing problems

She's plays her instruments as loud as possible, with the amp right next to her, without ANY ear protection

It's caused some damage

She talks so loud bc she has no idea how loud is considered acceptable

Wears hearings aids most of the time

Several piercings and tattoos

Likes hearing things jingle

She has a bracelet with a few bells hanging from it

She'll shake it whenever she's bored

LOVES hair accessories

Ribbons are a particular favourite

Occasionally she'll hang little charms from her hair "horns"

The kind of person who never takes any pills/medicine bc she keeps forgetting she has to

Frequently uses emojis

Skates everywhere but she isn't very good at it

She keeps crashing into everything

Has broken every bone in her body at least 3 times

Most of which was bc she keeps trying to kick in doors and skating down the stairs

Celestia Ludenberg (THH)

Nonbinary

Any pronouns, mainly goes by She/They

Bi, 70:30

Collects mini hand sanitizers and can tabs

Has single handedly gotten Mario Kart, Mario Party, Monopoly, Uno, and Clue banned a grand total of 17 times (and counting)

The kind of person to purposefully target someone regardless of what game was being played

Favourite victim is Byakuya (bc he gets so upset about it and she finds that hilarious)

Mains Waluigi

Celeste/Kyoko/Makoto

Has several banned Twitter accounts bc whenever she's bored she'll start discourse on purpose

Hangs with Korekiyo, Ibuki, Byakuya, Yasuhiro, and Leon most often

It's a weird friend group but everyone's sorta gotten used to it

She and Byakuya gamble together occasionally

She tries to avoid it bc he'll willingly blow his entire fortune in an attempt to beat her

Autustic

Can't stand the feeling of water

Mainly bc she can't swim for shit

Horror movies? Hates them

Gets flustered super easily

Taka is her twin brother

Kotoko, Kokichi, and Gundham are their half siblings (Same father)

Peko and Toko are their cousins

She sucks ass at go fish

Fuck canon she's 4'11 now

C h u b b y

Freckles

Once she gets comfortable enough with herself she dyes her hair in the peekaboo style

Either black and red or black and blonde

Haven't decided yet

I'll be doing Celesnaegiri hcs as a seperate post but I just feel it's important for you to know that she expresses her affection verbally and is a very touchy person

Went to middle school with Maki and Korekiyo

Has horrible eyesight

She wears contacts most of the time but she always puts off buying more

After the 5th or so time she ended up blindly stumbling around a week after her contacts ran out Kyoko convinced her to buy glasses as well

Religious accessories yo

Like chokers and dangly earrings with crosses and pentagrams and shit

Likes wearing wacky earrings

Can run and do all sorts of tricks in heels

She and Mukuro are exes yo

Keeps her hair short so it's easier to manage

Hair never gets longer than her shoulders if she can help it

She seems like the kind of person who'd keep her bangs grown past her eyes regardless of how frustrating or inconvenient it is

She's a sub yall just don't wanna admit it

Funtime Foxy (FNAF)

I'm going on the record to say this

Funtime Foxy is genderfluid and that is that

Goes by Funtime

Any pronouns, They/Them most commonly

Plays music (keyboard and guitar mainly)

They and Funtime Freddy (Freds) mainly play with the kids

Freds mainly tells stories with Bonbon while Funtime more so plays one-on-one

Has nicknames for everyone

Circus Baby - Ringleader

Ballora - Bells

Funtime Freddy - Partner

Bon Bon - Bun

Peril (WOF)

I like both Nonbinary She/They Peril and Mtf She/Her Peril

They're both such good concepts

She's a lesbian, Harold

She only had a crush on Clay bc he was pretty much everything she was supposed to like in a guy

Gimme a moment while I force all my mental disorders onto this poor child

Autistic, Anxiety (Social anxiety, mainly, but she has most types), Adhd, PTSD

I'd like to reiterate yet again that She's a lesbian

Sunny and Glory were her gay awakening

Peril in Book 1: Damn, Sunny and Glory sure are pretty. Anyone would be lucky to date them. Clay would probably go for them over me. He would be stupid if he didn't. I myself would willingly date them over someone like me. They're just so pretty :(

Peril waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of arc 2: WAIT-

Rarepair alert but Peril/Sora

Peril meeting Sora: "Hmmm She's attractive. I would love to date her. Too bad I'm straight and in love with her brother lmao :P"

Peril, a mere month later, waiting for Ruby to leave Jade Mountain, pacing in her cave, running face first into a wall: WAIT-

I remember reading this one amazing story where Sora taught Peril to read/write and Peril found out she set off the bomb and comforted her/convinced her her run so that's canon now

Btw if anyone can remember what that story was called/what platform it was on and could tell me I'd appreciate it very much

I'd even be willing to draw a character of your's or make you an icon or something

I usually don't accept requests bc I get burnt out easy but this is a special case

She runs into Sora again sometime between the beginning of TOP and the end

I like to imagine she just goes wandering around

Anyway she confesses like a mere few minutes after running into her again bc Peril is just subtle like that

The actual confession takes 15 minutes and the entire time Sora is just sitting here like "👁👄👁 sure"

Bam Peril/Sora

Peril plans to keep it a secret for a little while longer but she spends 3 seconds around Clay and pretty much blurts it out

Clay, who wasn't even aware that Peril was a lesbian, is just "👁👄👁"

I wanna say Clay doesn't know what a lesbian is but in my canon Sunny is a lesbian so Starflight has already told him

Anyway he's super supportive

From that point Peril is sorta open about her sexuality?

Like, she gives Clay permission to tell the rest of the D.O.D bc she isn't about to risk being in front of them when they hear the news

(When Sunny starts actively seeking her out as a hang out buddy and Tsunami, Glory, and Starflight appear to tolerate her presence just a bit more afterwards she pretends she isn't confused by the change)

She's pink, white, and blue bc I said so

If you look at a certain angle in the right lighting her eyes, mouth, fire, and under her scales all look purple

But her fire is normally white and blue bc I said so

Also she pale as fuck bc in my canon their fire just sorta burns their colour away

You know how you leave something outside for too long and it gets sunbleached? Where it gets all washed out?

Like that but more extreme

By the age of 10-12 firescale dragons are just white with pale eyes

That's right not even the eyes are safe

Ram horns :P

I'm also fond of Peril/Sunny

Or maybe Peril/Sora/Sunny

But Peril/Sora is the main thing

On the topic of that bringing in my hc that if one sib in a sib group is fire resistant all of them are

She,,, She can change her scale colour

But only slightly and only if her emotions are strong enough

Bc I don't give a fuck about Darkstalker's scroll we were robbed of hybrid Peril

Unfortunately all of Peril's emotions are strong

Rainwing ruff along her head and neck

It's like a hood

It's mainly smoothed to her sides but when she's startled it flares out

RAINWING PUPILS

Y'all will know what those look like as soon as I get off my ass :P

She,,, She can mimic bird cries

Hates the summer

She has more than enough body heat already and the outside is just hot enough to add on and make her feel sick

She can somewhat control her heat but most of the time it's based on her emotions

It can go from standing-in-the-middle-of-a-burning-building-cant-see-your-nose-smoke-is-so-thick heat (Strong emotion) to Hey-thats-a-nice-cozy-campfire heat (Calm/"weak" emotion/Sleeping)

I'm just gonna make a different post with all my Peril hcs cuz there isnt enough room for all of them here

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tired-college-student-writing · 4 years

Text

Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt.6

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1 Part 5 Part 6 (HERE) Part 7 ____________________________________________

“I’ll go find her,” Tim offered, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“I should go,” Damian argued, only for Timto waved him off as he grabbed his costume from the wardrobe.

“You look like you just faced Sweet tooth,” He shot back as he pulled off his top. They were used to changing in front of each other by now and he was already wearing his bike shorts under his outfit, “I’m going because I can explain how better then all of you even if I can’t track her number like I would normally.”

“He’s got you there brat,” Jason huffed, “Though taking backup isn’t exactly the worst idea, replacement.”

“I can go,” Dick yawned, rolling to his feet as Tim finished pulling on his costume, “Better me then letting Jay get arrested for his guns.”

“I didn’t even bring them!”

____________________________________________

Red Robin was trying desperately to not to laugh as he jumped onto the rooftop.

He and Dick had split up soon after leaving the hotel, remaining in contact with the others through comms. Only after a few short minutes, Tim flew back towards the direction Dick had gone after hearing his eldest brother let out a startled yelp before the unmistakable sound of the comm flying out of his ear.

The girl with a foot on top of Dick’s back was in a black suit, dark yellow boots and gloves cutting off in sharp points at her knees and elbows, yellow strips cutting around her legs and waist, a top hanging off of a rope she had wrapped around Nightwing’s arms and torso, while translucent wings fluttered on her back. Her yellow and black hair was french braid over her right shoulder, the sharp black tip curved forward with a bee comb placed firmly at her scalp. Her eyes covered by a dark visor that reflected the light to show the compound eye design.

Even with her number gone with the magical transformation, Tim couldn’t help but feel like she looked familiar.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” She questioned, voice slow and regal.

“Well, I’m Red Robin,” Tim greeted, trying to ignore the laughter from Jason and Damian in his ear, “And under your foot is Nightwing who is never going to live this down.”

“Gotham’s heroes?” She questioned, unwrapping Nightwing with a snap of her wrist allowing him to rise, “What on earth did you get all the way to Paris?”

Tim shrugged, “We’re trying to speak to Ladybug, the League had been ignorant of the situation here until recently and we came to offer our help, miss...”

“Abeille,” She offered before scoffing, “The league was unaware about we were dealing with, really?”

Nightwing gave a sheepish smile, “Well the lack of international coverage and lasting damage, anything we found online seemed faked. As soon as we Red realized that it wasn’t we set out for France.”

Abeille gave them a considering look, “Well… while I’m not happy it took you so long to come help, better late than never I guess. I saw Ladybug out and about earlier so let me give her a call.”

She picked up her top and it split it in half, showing off a screen and keyboard.

“How the he-”

She cut Tim off, “Don’t question the magic, it will just give you a migraine if you think about it too long.”

“Abeille? I didn’t know you’d be on patrol already, usually, you don’t head out until 6,” The distinct voice of Marinette sounded through the speaker.

“Well I saw two masked weirdos that I didn’t know hopping around the rooftops, so I checked it out,” She answered dryly, “Lo and behold that is wasn’t an Akuma or Sentimonster,”

“What? Who are they then? Please tell me this isn’t an Owl situation again,” Marinette asked hastily.

Abeille smirked, “well no wannabe heroes being stupid,” She told the other hero as she turned the device around to point at the two Gothamites, “But we have two real heroes that would like to meet you,”

“Hello!” Dick greeted with a cheerful wave as Marinette’s mouth fell open.

“Nightwing and Red Robin?” She questioned, “What are you doing here?”

“They said the League finally got a clue,” Abeille relays, “Should I send them over to the normal meeting spot?”

“Well, yeah but we should probably-”

Tim listened to his comm before cutting her off, “Would it be alright if the other Bats with us too? Bats, Red Hood and Robin feel like we should talk as a group?”

Dick snickered, “Yeah Rob wanted to come originally, but he met with his girlfriend in civvies and she pumped an entire tray of eclair on him so he had to clean up.”

Ladybug visibly paled in the screen as the pieces slide into place, “Yeah, you can all come. I’ll meet them alone in 30 minutes, Abeille. You can keep patrolling. Bug Out!”

The screen cut off as Abeille hummed, “I can give you guys the coordinates if you give me the signal you’re working on.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, “It’s a secure channel, you-“

“Oh I know I shouldn’t be able to link up to it,” She cut him off with a wave of her hand, “But again magic, it can link up to anything as long as I have the necessary info and a miraculous communicator can’t be hacked, so no worries about your secrets being leaked. It’ll even wipe the memory of your signal from itself as soon as I detransform.”

“Geez,” Dick whistled as Tim related the message to her, “Are there any drawbacks to having one of these?”

She snorted as their comma both dinged with the coordinates, “Yeah, two big one, they send out butterflies and feathers on a semi-regular basis to turn our family and friends against us,”

“Mood,” Tim hummed thinking back to when he had to fight other heroes due to the villain of the week’s mind control.

____________________________________________

The location they were given was for an office building across from the Louvre, no windows higher than it, and a rusted shut access door. Overall not a bad meeting spot, seeing as it would be very hard to spot them up there unless they were sitting on the edge of the building.

The Bats were only partially hidden from view as they waited for Marinette to arrive, Damian pacing slightly.

There was a near-silent ‘twip’ before they saw a polka-dotted yoyo wrap around one of the many antennas next to them and a frazzled looking Ladybug appeared in front of them.

“Are you guys really…” She trailed off with a slightly panicked look on her face.

“Yes, Habibti,” Damian confirmed lightly, “I am sorry for startling you earlier, but we thought it best to inform you that we knew now and offer our support.”

“But how?” She questioned, seeming not at all concerned that her boyfriend was in fact a superhero from a superhero family as she buried her hands in her hair, “I mean I’ve always been careful around you to not let my powers slip, I used the horse miraculous to travel back to Paris is an Akuma came while I was in Gotham so I had an alibi if you ever questioned me, but that didn’t seem to matter since No one outside of Paris seemed to believe that there was anything happening anyways, heck even the tourists seemed to publicity stunt the mayor is running since there’s never any lasting damage-”

Damian stepped forward and wrapped her into a firm embrace, allowing her frantic breathing to slow as they all waited silently.

“I’m Meta,” Tim spoke after she seemed mostly calm, voice a little weak as Dick places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “We know because I’m meta and as it turns out Miraculous users screw up my skills enough for me to take notice, I just recently put it together, Demon Spawn’s girlfriend and the hero of Paris.”

Her eyes widen over Damian’s shoulder, “Is that why you avoided me when I first came over?”

The group chuckled as he blushed slightly, but he opened his mouth to start explaining what he could do and how they could offer help before a cry sounded to their right.

Instinct pushing all of them towards the edge they rushed to see a ten-foot tall woman in a huge red ball gown, blood dripping from her hands as she screeched. Guards dressed in bright red squire outfits lined the Louvre’s courtyard.

“Great,” Ladybug mumbled as she watched Chat taunt the being, Viperion and Abeille arriving as well, “I hate Valentine season, so many love based akumas.”

“We should-”

“You should go back to your hotel,” Marinette cut off Bruce, causing all eyes to fly to her, “I have a team already who are starting to show up and introducing all five of you at once mid-battle will only serve as a distraction. I’ll come over after and we’ll talk, then we’ll discuss the next including a plan to introduce the permanent team, but for now, you need to stay out of the way until we figure out what to do.”

Damian looks like he wants to protest, but Bruce simply nods.

“It’s your city,” The patriarch, “We will defer to you, but could we stay within viewing distance of the battle? It would allow us to observe how you usually operate.”

She bit her lip but nodded, “Stay hidden please, I really mean it when I say I don’t want any distractions, Kwami knows that they get mind-controlled enough without it.”

She swan dived off the ledge with that, yoyo snapping out to catch her and launch her towards her teammates, Ryuko who had just arrived easily sidestepping to allow their leader to take point next to Chat Noir.

The Gotham Heros settled onto the rooftop to watch as Tim's eyes scanned the heroes below and mentally added them into his system.

Viperion was a mystery still, but even with the numbers he was so used to seeing missing he didn’t have a problem placing the others with what he observed earlier.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng- Cursive Soft Pink 15, Codenamed Ladybug

Chloe Bourgeois- Delicate Canary Yellow 14, Codenamed Abeille

???- Calligraphed Burgundy 13, Codenamed- Ryuko

Adrian Agreste- Bubble lettered Neon Green 15, Codenamed Chat Noir.

____________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum @rougemme @dur55 @phantommeow12 @kand-roo @silvergold-swirl @officiallyathiana @completelypeccable @redhoodsdoll @nataladriana9 @mariae2900 @northernbluetongue @sturchling @thesunanditsangel @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo @bobothyross @taoiichii @magnitude101999 @magicalfirebird @nataladriana9 @panda3506 @aquariusrunes @woodland-queer @sayarock121 @mindfulmagics @magic-miraculous @my-name-is-michell

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #meta!tim #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #numbers AU #chloe bourgeois

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nad-zeta · 4 years

Text

Match up | (• ◡•)| (❍ᴥ❍ʋ)

heya!! tysm again fr the ikesen matchup, i loved it sm ♡ sooo now could i pls get a matchup for ikevamp, if its ok? 💞 (ps i hope ur doin ok!!) here’s the info again!!

bi girl, i prefer guys! ambiverted intp, gryffindor or ravenclaw, neutral good, scorpio. i have an older twin sis n i love/hate her sm!!

medium-length straight-ish black hair (side bang to the right) & dark brown eyes!! 5'5-ish, filipina! im getting glasses soon~

complex daydreamer- i crave affirmation/praise!! anxiety, i overthink sm! quiet w/ others cause idk what to say. im like half funny/playful & half deep/awkward- easily annoyed but guilty after cause im soft-hearted. i have a way w/ words, poetic? hopeless romantic! i tend to be quite chaotic? sorta socially anxious-

not innocent/naive but ppl think so at 1st! i look fine but im a big mess. superiority complex, insecure- smart n knowledgeable. passionate! a kid w/ my twin but w/ others, mature. its hard to friend ppl! dramatic but rather closed off. its hard for me to ask fr help- opinionated but i try to understand. i need lots of space,,,

i like to have fun n loosen up but would also just cuddle n have long convos. forgive but never forget- realist but rather optimistic. good w/ technology! imaginative/creative. near-sighted! rather selfish, i put myself 1st. love language is words of affirmation/quality time- stubborn! observant- sensitive.

a habit- i tend to drift away n just think? i care a lot abt how i look! i like bein the best so i get competitive. keyboard smashes!! i swear quite often. i like bein organised! i like makin faces!!

fun fact: math/history r my faves. sometimes im rlly hyper n say the most random things? i fear judgement, future, unknown, n failure. bilingual, learnin french! fr pda only hand-holding?

likes: gaming, affection, jokes (stupid/puns), space (stars), weapons (swords/guns), music, instruments (piano), animals, movies, books, philosophy, psychology, writing, exhilirating stuff, astronomy, mythology, etc.

dislikes: heat, presentations, naivety, stupidity, blind faith, stereotypes, being pressured, etc.

tysm!! shjsjsjs i changed it a bit- anyway, stay safe!! dont forget to take care of urself 💞

Hehe, you are most welcome dear!🥰❤🌻 I’m so happy you sent in another request! You are honestly so sweet! ❤🥰Soz for taking sooo long! I hope you enjoy this dear and I hope you are looking after yourself! Sending lots o hugs! 🌻❤ @x-joie-x

So I match you with………….. Napoleon

The first time Napoleon meets you was when he legit grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him, as he tried to get you out of the mansion. It was not safe for a human in a mansion full of vampire, and this soldier wanted to get you out before it was too late. But alas it was just that, too late. By the time the two of you had arrived at the door from whence u came, it was sealed shut, and no amount of tugging or pulling could get it to open.

Comte, who had heard the commotion, stepped into the hallway to see you and Napoleon trying to open the door. He strode over to you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as he led you and the soldier to his study so he could explain. After a lengthy explanation about your current situation he named Napoleon as your personal bodyguard to help you navigate, the Paris of the past

To say you were starting to overthink and get anxious would be an understatement. Napo looked over at your quiet demeanour and scanned your face to find a glimpse of anxiety. After the conversation with Comte was over, Sabastion came to escort you to your room for the night.

The next few days you spent cooped up in your room. Too anxious to leave, u needed time and space to sort through your feelings.

Your stomach started grumbling, but you just ignored it, cause honesty you were just too stubborn to go downstairs and ask for help. Napo had been pacing outside your door, trying to figure out the best way to coax you from your room. That’s when he heard the rumble coming from your stomach. He gently opens the door and strode into your room, “come nunuche, I made too many pancakes this morning, And I need some help finishing them.” Just as you were about to refuse your stomach gave another loud growl, cue Napoleon bursting out into laughter, “I think its best we feed that little bear before it gets angry.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Napo, as the soldier went from scary and intimidating to boyish and playful in 0.2 seconds. You smiled as you watch the former Emporer of France try to catch his breath through his full body laughter fit. He finally calmed down and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the dining room. A new fit of laughter erupted from the man as you couldn’t help but crack a joke on your way there. The rest of the afternoon was spent cracking jokes and eating pancakes.

Napo found you incredibly amusing, especially how you could go from funny and playful, to awkward in 2 seconds flat. He loved to joke along with you and then tease you whenever you would turn into an awkward mess the second one of the other residents entered into the room.

Especially Arthur, you would often get annoyed at his flirty comments and pick up lines, you absolutely left Napo in stitches when you made a sarcastically awkward comment back to Arthur on afternoon. Napo had learned by now that you were actually rather soft-hearted so the minute he saw the guilt flash across your eyes for being annoyed at Arthur’s comments, he squeezed your hand in reassurance, “don’t feel guilty nunuche, trust me he deserves it. Plus if you don’t believe me, just ask Isaac.”

Napoleon would invite you with him every day to help teach the children at his makeshift school. At first, you were somewhat socially awkward, but thanks to Napoleon and Isaac’s encouragement, you actually started teaching a class of your own. Napo loved how smart and passionate you were. You gave your all in teaching the children various topics, and honestly, Napo couldn’t help but fall in love with you. You taught them everything from maths to history, and the children absolutely adored you. So did Napoleon tbh, the man would take sneaky glances just watching you in your element. When stealing these little glances of you, a lovestruck foolish smile would dance across his face, which most certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Isaac or the children.

After class, Isaac would go off to his second job as a professor of the University, leaving you and Napoleon up to your own devices. Napoleon seemed to bring out that playful side of you, as the two of you goofballs would grab lunch at a nearby cafe. Or have a little picnic in the park, and just spend the entire time quick-firing stupid puns and jokes at each other. You sometimes get super hyper and start saying random words, which leads the two of you to have loads of random conversations. And TBH the two of you are always pulling silly faces at each other just for laughs. You live for those moments when u make a joke or pull a face, and monsieur de Whaha starts erupting with laughter. It is a true sight to behold, the way his whole body shakes, and the sight alone is enough to prompt you into your own laughing fit.

The day Napoleon knew you were the one and only woman for him, was the day he found you in the training hall. You loved swords and weapons so when you were helping Sebastian with housework one day, and you came across a vast display of swords, you were absolutely ecstatic. You wasted no time in picking up one of the swords and swishing it around. Napoleon walked into the room just as you pick up one of the swords and his eyes went wide, “pfft what in the world are you doing?” You narrowed your eyes at the man, as he chuckled, “practising, obviously.”

Napoleon’s eyes lit up as he strode past you to pick up a sword of his own, “then I shall be your partner.” You smiled a broad smile as you went on the offensive and attacked Napoleon. The two of you spent the next few hours smack-talking each other as you fought. Napoleon enjoyed every moment of your fight and the way you were determined to win. He found that competitive side of you rather sexy, so much so that he decided to confess his feelings.

After you had beaten him, he proposed a rematch, but this time he raised the stakes. He went on the offensive, and just before delivering the final blow, he dropped his sword and grabbed hold of you. Smouldering jade blue eyes met your brown ones questioningly, and once he found his answer, he leaned down to kiss you.

The former emperor of France was utterly head over heels for your stubborn optimistic, competitive personality. He absolutely adored what a walking contradiction you were, being both a realist and optimistic, being organized yet messy at the same time. Napoleon had noticed early on in your relationship that you were rather closed off and slowly, but surely he managed to get you to open up to him. The two of you have had many a deep conversation while cuddling.

He found that whenever you were snuggled in his arm, it was easy to pry information out of you. Especially when he would tickle you. He found out a lot during his cuddle interrogation sessions like how you feared judgement, the unknown future and failure, like how you actually care about your appearance and that you have a superiority complex. None of which scared him off, if anything he loved you more for it! Being sure to curb and banish all your insecurities with the sweetest words of affirmation and praise.

Napo like you, is also a bit of a romantic so this dork will 100% plan dates under the stars, especially after he found out about your love for astronomy and space/stars. He will definitely plan small quiet dates for the two of you, away from the loudness of the mansion. This boi will burst into your room in the afternoon, drag you to the stables, plonk you on top of a hose and before you know it you are sitting in his arms reading or chatting about anything from philosophy to psychology under the shade of a willow tree, surrounded by flowers.

Napo loves your writing, and this boi will insist you read him your fics whenever you finish them. He will spend the next ten days bragging about how amazing your writing skills are to everyone, even going as far as to say your a much better writer than Arthur.

Knows you need space and alone time and will give you as much as it as you need. He knows you will come and find him once you want some company again. And once you do seek him out, he will crush you in a warm embarrass and whisk you off on some exhilarating adventure.

Mornings between the two of you sweethearts consist of soft, heart-melting moments. Naturally, the first thing Napo does when he wakes up is, plant a loving kiss on your lips. He will tighten his embrace around you as he cracks open his eyes to wish you a good morning all while nuzzling your neck. He knows you are a sucker for sweet words so he will be whispering the sweetest of endearments to you, in between lazy morning kisses. Best be sure this boy will complement and praise you every single day of your life.

Other potential matches…………….. Dazai

I hope you enjoyed this dear! 🌞🌻and I hope you have a super good day! ❤❤🌻

#matchups #matches #match ups #ikesen matchup #ikevamp matchup #ikevamp match up #ikevamp napoleon #napoleon ikevamp #napoleon bonaparte #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen napoleon #submission

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flowerymoonlight · 4 years

Text

your company

pairing: Clint x Bucky

genre: fluffy fluffity fluff i aint hurting my boys any time soon

word count: 2,253

summary: James turns Clint’s evening around.

warnings: unhealthy times to drink coffee, don't do it kids

author’s note: another one for @stuckonjbbarnes‘ challenge!! and @piper-koko-barnes-rogers i know we talked about this ages ago but its here

Clint was stupid. A world-class idiot. How could he even consider the possibility that Barney had changed? Too much wishful thinking was his guess.

When Barney had invited him to his new apartment for beers all the parts of Clint’s brain were flaring red. But he said yes anyway. It wasn’t that Barney wasn’t terrible to him, because he was, but Clint could never really write him off. There must be something wrong with his brain.

He got to Barney’s place alright, just in time to be there and catch the no-filter slurring. Yeah, he was expecting it from Barney honestly, but he wasn’t counting on Jesse and Ray to be there with him.

Jesse and Ray were like cereal and milk, always around each other, and they had quickly befriended Barney in middle school with their one common goal of making fun of Clint for breathing. No, he definitely did not still have bottled up rage for these two.

And, of course, as they were all drunk off their asses – probably a little high too – the insults just started pouring like rain. The worst part wasn’t even when Barney laughed at what they said as if it was a joke, or when he joined them. The worst part was the Clint was so used to it that he couldn’t even find the strength to react to it.

He could only handle two hours before taking the opportunity of Barney going to the bathroom to flee out of there as fast as possible. Clint was stupid for accepting but he had just enough self-respect to not stay and torture himself for too long.

It was still close to 3 am when he was leaving and the only company he had were the street lights casting light every few feet and the lone grocery store that run till the early hours of the morning. It wasn’t exactly freezing but there was a nice chill reminding him that he was alive.

He was lost in thoughts of naps, warm blankets, and hot coffee in a few hours when he passed by a coffee shop. He couldn’t say exactly what made him do it but he stopped to look inside and when his eyes caught the employee behind the counter his heart jumped in his chest.

Positively the most beautiful man Clint had ever seen.

His hair was in a bun and looked like they would feel like clouds under his fingertips, his jaw was adorned with probably a day’s scruff and Clint’s brain provided a millisecond fantasy of feeling it under Clint’s lips. And Clint could just barely keep his eyes from staring holes into the guy’s shoulders.

He realized he must’ve looked like a creep when the guy stopped wiping down the counter and went to fix something else. And Clint only got a glimpse of his ass but damn, could he even handle the rest?

Before he knew it Clint was opening the door to the cafe, getting the attention of the guy and having his eyes land on Clint’s – god they were the most beautiful blue he’d ever seen, this was not right, – and having his brain short-circuit.

Which, was extremely rude because he was not the one to make the decision to go in in the first place and now his brain was leaving him alone in the deep end.

Just my luck.

Then his legs were taking him over to the counter – because it’s weird to just stand in front of the door Clint, shut up – and the guy was smiling at him, wow he could get more beautiful, Clint wouldn’t have guessed it.

“What can I get for you?” He said and, oh, his voice. Why did Clint have to get tortured like this? Clint had been trying to stare at the counter in order not to ogle too openly at a stranger but when he glanced up he saw amusement in the guy’s eyes. Okay, maybe he’s not a total lost cause.

“Uh, french roast, black,” could have gone without the stuttering but he wasn’t written off yet ‘cause the guy’s smile got a little bigger as he started preparing it. He should probably find a better name for him than ‘the guy’. Just then Clint’s eyes caught his name tag. James. He could already hear himself say it over and over again.

Okay, getting out of that daydream. Still in public.

“Can I get ya anything else?” James’s voice brought him back to look at those blue eyes and it was like a spell took over his mouth because he was sure he was meant to answer ‘No, thank you.’ but what came out, oh boy. Clint changed from human to tomato in seconds.

“A couple hours with you would be great, doll.” And while Clint was trying to find his footing again with his face still burning hot his eyes did catch the faintest dust of pink on James’s cheeks and Clint felt a greater sense of satisfaction at his accomplishment – and even slightly less embarrassed.

“Well, that can be arranged,” what did Clint just hear? That was not his brain, right? The shy smile James had on his lips says it wasn’t and Clint feels a rush go through his body before he’s leaning on the counter, getting just a few inches closer to where James was working.

“If you can tell me your name,” James raised his eyebrows and Clint wasn’t about to back down from that challenge and lose a chance of hearing his name on James’s lips.

“I’m Clint.” He said and let a shy smile rest on his lips because nothing was thrown on his face yet, and that was a success in Clint’s book.

“Well hello, Clint,” James smiled at him again, all teeth and sunshine and everything, and placed his cup in front of him.

Clint’s hand instinctively moved to take it and his fingers brushed James’s before he could let go. It gave him a little tingling on the ends of his fingers and judging by the blush and the ever-present smile on James’s lips, Clint was willing to bet he felt something too.

“Thanks, doll,” what was Clint’s deal with that again? Seriously, did his brain and mouth connection had no filter? He was just walking around saying things like that? Well, no, it just seemed to have malfunctioned in the presence of a gorgeous, blue-eyed, with the sun in his smile, barista. He wasn’t like that all the time.

“So, what brings you here in the dead of night, Clint?” Okay, maybe Clint enjoyed hearing his name in James’s voice a little too much, but that was nobody’s business since it would stay in his head forever. And now onto the more unpleasant parts of his question, Clint took a sip of his coffee and just about held himself from proposing right then and there.

“Escaping the harsh reality of my social life, I’m afraid.” Clint settled on something awfully vague and awfully true at the same time. He didn’t want to lie at his first meeting with James but he also didn’t want to unload on a stranger that he wanted to see again – many, many times.

“What about you? The graveyard shift can’t be as fun as everyone says,” Clint tipped his cup to James before he took another sip – Jesus, what did he put in this thing? It’s heavenly. James in return smiled at his poor attempt at a joke and lent against the counter, folding his arms over his chest and Clint’s coffee almost went down the wrong pipe.

“It got me talking to you, didn’t it?” James said it with a smirk on his lips and, okay look, Clint was not a blusher but he had to admit; James had game and it maybe landed a soft pink on his cheeks – but just maybe.

From then on it was pretty easy to flirt with him – and by pretty easy Clint means his brain never gave a filter to his mouth and he kept blurting things he wasn’t meant to. The unexpected and certainly not unwelcome response though was James’s soft chuckles and warm eyes.

And, okay, maybe Clint was a little smitten when he left at an hour when he could see the sun and his eyes were burning just a tiny bit. And maybe he was biting his lip trying to conceal the smile from all the giddy things he was feeling about his talk with James. And he was definitely going back.

The next time Clint walked into the coffee shop during the graveyard shift there were a couple of college students in a corner with their laptops out, headphones on and fingers jamming down on the keyboards. And, yeah, Clint was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be alone with James but he guessed they would only bother them for refills.

James greeted him with a familiar smile and before he could even think straight a ‘Hello, doll,’ was coming out of Clint’s mouth like it was meant to be there. And, okay, James’s blush made up for the burn of embarrassment on his face but he needed to get back in touch with his filter and not ruin something before it could even start.

Turns out James really enjoyed the nickname, as he had admitted shyly when they were all alone and into each other’s personal space. He said no one had ever called him that and Clint had just preened at him before trying to use it in every sentence after that.

It got him a smack in the shoulder but he got to hold that same hand later and intertwine his fingers with James’s so it all worked out.

It took four dates – and yes Clint was calling them dates, even if James was supposed to be working and he was supposed to be sleeping – for Clint to just go for it and place a soft kiss on James’s lips. He really hadn’t been settle with going for the back of his hand or his cheek on previous dates but Clint still felt an uncertainty that he had a 50-50 chance of getting punched in the face.

He didn’t. But he did get kissed back by James and it was very hard to do anything else than brush their mouths together after that. And if the next time Clint went over to the coffee shop he greeted James with a kiss on the lips no one was around to see it.

And he didn’t hesitate to ask James out on a real date, because as much as he enjoyed their time together at the coffee shop he also understood that only he was calling them dates – in his head. So, when James said yes, Clint preened and held his hand and refuse to leave until his shift was over.

Seeing James in casual but dressy clothes for the first time had Clint with both a desire to take them off and see them being put on and as much as he realized his brain was moving too fast with those daydreams it was just too easy – too right – to not let his mind wander.

He didn’t have to wander much as for the next four months they spent almost every night of the week sleeping in the same bed – and doing other things. But Clint was still a lot of nervous when he finally got the courage to ask James to move in with him – even if it was early – over dinner – he tried to cook but miserly failed and had to order take-out.

James had just smiled at him and took his hand and Clint let out a relieved breath when he said yes.

Five years later and he was sitting at their couch staring out the window the purple sky that the lights of the city wouldn’t let the stars shine through and remembering that first day that got him into that coffee shop and he met his husband.

Clint got out of his daydream by the cushions dipping next to him and a small smile was on his lips before he could even turn his head to look at James. He placed two mugs with hot coffee on the table in front of them before leaning back and snuggling under Clint’s raised arm, draped over the back of the couch.

“I would ask, but I know that look,” James mumbles sheepishly in Clint’s shoulder. He just chuckles softly and turns his head to bury his nose in James’s hair.

“Still haven’t talked to Barney,” Clint tries to joke about that night

“Good riddance,” James replies instantly and curls even more around Clint. “So, are we just reminiscing or should I be worried your head is saying silly things again?” James asks next and honestly, how did Clint get so lucky? He seems to be asking himself that question every day now but he can never find an answer, only be grateful that the universe decided to give him James.

“Just reminiscing, doll,” Clint can feel the shiver the moment it goes through James’s body and smiles at the memory of him first saying it. He leaves a soft kiss on the top of James’s head before going for his mug on the table. Ah, coffee. Always helping me, one way or another.

#Dani250 #winterhawk #winterhawk fanfic #clint x bucky #winterhawk fluff

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lirusstories · 4 years

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Once Upon A Dream Chapter 1: A Close Call - Re-Uploaded

A/N: Here is the Re-uploaded version which is now Third Person next will be the First Chapter of TKATQ or No Place Like Home.

(Word count: 2534)

Henrik is in his office frustrated and muttering “Nein” under his breath as he scribbles out another bad equation before ripping it out of the notebook. The desk was covered in crumpled papers as he ripped off another page tossing it to the side, the sounds coming from the computer causing him to look at it. He quickly writes down what's being shown on the screen before flipping the page and writing more.

His head snaps up to one of the monitors as it starts up and he quickly begins to scribble down what it was showing him, my eyes flicking to it every few seconds before I rip out the page tossing it to the side. He picks up one of the papers he set aside before leaning back in his chair, setting it down again and staring at the screen, trying not to let his frustration overwhelm him.

He holds back a wince as the soul-mark that looks like a tear in space grows warm. Not to burn but more like something big is happening. He pulls his focus away from it as he begins to write more notes down. He’s muttering “Nein” under his breath repeatedly as he rips out another page and throws it to the ground. He keeps writing down what he can until the equations change again, muttering “Nein” again. He rips that page out and throws it to the side with the rest.

He winces suddenly, my hand flying to the soul mark on my forehead, A red Heart and Diamond and a black Spade and Club, as it suddenly burns making his vision go white for a second and he can hear a faint voice sounding like they're saying his name. He quickly shrugs it off, getting back to work hastily scribbling down what he can, becoming more and more frustrated as he rips out more pages continuing to mutter under his breath, louder than before.

He finally manages to get something that works again and he flips the page over, writing more down as the meter on one of the monitors suddenly fills up with orange bars before beginning to glow letting out a high pitched whirring sound before beginning to glitch. He snaps his attention to it, heart jumping to his throat as panic begins to brew. At the same time, one of his soulmarks around his waist, a set of beautiful Emerald green wings now covered in a smokey black cloud of… something, begins to feel like someone lit them on fire and he gets the feeling someone was screaming at him to run. He forces himself to ignore it muttering,

“What is this?” Henrik whispers under his breath as he scrambles to try and stop it, the monitor continuing to glitch as he does.

“Nein.” He panics quickly sifting through the crumbled papers until he finds the keyboard and quickly typing in code hoping it will stop the glitching. He stares into the monitor hoping to fix what was going on. The screen flickers slightly before showing a swirling vortex of blue’s and orange, forcing him to freeze in place.

‘Nein.’ He thinks, panicking now despite the fact that his mind was becoming foggy.

‘Bitte, nein, nein.’ He begins to involuntarily lean forward towards the swirl of colors.

‘Ich-ich brauche, I ... need, I need to...’ The door to his office opens, a familiar feeling of dread that leaves as quickly as it appeared as the vortex forces his mind to go blank. And before anything else could happen, he feels a warm cold hand touch his back, above his heart, before everything goes black.

He can hear someone screaming. He’s not sure who but they sound familiar, He sounds familiar. There’s a woman yelling now, yelling for the man who's screaming. Flashes of a man with a slit throat laughing like a maniac with his hand through Henrik’s stomach. No. No not his stomach… but… who is it? Who is Anti-

No. Nonononono. Not him not again. Please not again. The woman is behind He- the man yelling his name. Henrik can’t make it out but she’s getting closer at a rapid pace. He can feel the man become engulfed in dark green and red flames and a scream rips from Henrik's throat as he’s pulled away, a gold and silver swiping down at the demon before everything turns to black.

“It’s time to wake up Henrik.”

The man jolts awake at the soft but commanding voice.Taking in a deep breath of air, he reaches up ripping off the surgical mask as he quickly moves to his knees, dry heaving. When nothing comes up he slowly stands up, taking off the cap and shoving both the mask and cap into one of the pockets before looking around.

‘I’m in a forest?’ He looks around seeing he’s definitely in a forest, it looks to be around right before the sun begins to set as well even though it was just midnight a second ago. He’s standing in a patch of green grass surrounded by trees and they all seem to have moss making some shapes on them, and upon closer inspection he could see that shapes were in the form of Spades, Hearts, Diamonds and Clubs, all pointing in the same direction.

He goes to touch one, a Spade, when the sound of the earth shifting behind him causes him to snap around and reach for a scalpel in his lab coat pocket before realizing he forgot to grab one when he left work. There’s a path way now, in the direction the shapes are pointing. That definitely wasn’t there when he woke up a minute ago. He takes a deep breath and nearly chokes on the overwhelming smell of just… home.

Lemon cake with Lavender glaze in the spring, a garden full of more flowers than he could count in the summer, pumpkin pastries baking in the oven while we ‘we?’ sing at the top of our lungs, ‘Our?’ in autumn, and hot chocolate with freshly baked cookies of all kinds, my brothers, ‘I don’t…‘ and I just sit by a fire after being in the snow all day, ‘I’ve never…’ Listening to our wife sing songs softly.

‘I-I don’t have- not anymore- no brothers-’

“But you could.” A soft Irish voice with a bit of french speaks in his head feeling like it’s coming from the soul-mark on his forehead. It’s familiar, from a life before that ended to early and a new life interrupted by a monster.

“All you have to do is keep walking. I promise.”

‘Keep walking?’ He hadn’t even realized he started and when he manages to force himself to focus long enough to see that he had indeed started walking and must have been for a few minutes by the looks of it.

“Just follow the path Hen and I promise everything will be okay.” The voice whispers, bringing him a comfort he hasn't felt for a couple years.

‘Promise?’ The thought is barely a meek whisper, sounding much like a lost child, as visions of what could be, fills his head.

“I promise.” And all at once, he snaps back to reality nearly passing out as he does so. Looking around frantically, he takes my surroundings seeing that the sun has set a bit more and he’s in a relatively well kept garden if not a bit overgrown, what looks to be hand laid stones cover everywhere that isn’t where the plants and flowers are, which smells exactly like the memory vision. He shivers slightly from the cold summer breeze as he looks at the manor in front of him, more of a castle really but he tries not to focus on the sheer intimidating size of the building as he cautiously approaches it.

When he gets to the doors he can see that the carvings in the door are soulmarks, A phoenix, a splatter of yin and yang that looks like it might be two rather than one, a pair of feathered wings and now that think about it both the one that it reminds him of and the tear in space one where rather sore. The last soul marks are a Heart, Spade, Diamond and Club with all of them seemingly surrounded by three pairs of wings, obviously from the rip in space one if the stars carved into it were anything to go by.

He takes a deep breath and he goes to knock but something stops me. He has no fucking idea why he does it but he grabs the handle to one of the doors and pushes it open. He’s immediately greeted by a small gust of wind as he walks in, the entrance room is huge, bigger than a house he’s sure, the floor seemed to be made of black, grey and white marble in star patterns all over, the walls were covered in knick knacks and paintings in some form of ordered Chaos.

There was a large staircase that led to two different directions with a painting of the carvings on the door only more realistic. He goes to walk to the stair from the center of the room but freezes when he feels two pairs of eyes staring at the back of his head. He quickly turns around, looking frantically for the source of the feeling before looking up in the rafters and for a moment, he swears he could see two people there, an adult male squatting in a red hoodie and jeans and a teenage girl(?) with a katana in her hand, staring down at him.

He swallows nervously and he goes to call out for someone when the same voice that woke him up speaks.

“Hello Henrik.” The doctor jumps, turning towards the stairs and at the top of them, there’s a woman wearing a black suit with crystals that form a skeleton four rings, two on a necklace and two on her ring finger. She had a sort of head piece, with the gem seeming to glow and swirl softly in the last bit of sunlight, half encasing her in shadow and a cane with one hand resting on it infront of her with one hand behind her back.

He can’t help but feel she looks familiar. He’s trying to remember where he’s seen her before, while trying to figure out why she’s here before he gets a flash of the furious women he saw in his dream(?).

‘She’s the one who attacked Anti…’ He realizes before asking,

“Who are you?” He tries his best to keep his voice calm while he watches her. She tilts her head to the side ever so slightly and he can see her eyes moving over his form. She pauses on his face for a second before speaking.

“I am Death. And you are in my home.” She finally answered after a full minute. He feels both confusion and a sense of dread wash over him with her answer.

“Your home?” He manages to get out although he quietly curses himself for the slight squeak in his voice. She nods her head once in confirmation, her eyes never once leaving the man.

“Yes, I… brought you here. I suppose.”

‘Why? Why in the hölle would this woman, who calls herself Death, bring me here.’

“Why?” He manages to ask through all his confusion, mind racing a hundred miles an hour.

“Because you were in danger.” She answered. What? How was he in danger… oh. Anti had found him.

“You were searching for something that Septic wanted. Something that you, let alone it shouldn’t have.” How the hell does she know what he was looking for. Wait. Septic? He goes to ask her who Septic was but she interrupts him before he could.

“Come with me. You’ve had a long day.” She begins to walk down the left hallway and he quickly rushes up the stairs to follow her.

“Wait! Where the hell even am I?” She pauses for a second and he can see she has moved the hand behind her back in front of her, preventing him from seeing it. His first thought is she has a weapon but the ache on my back, part of where the rip in space ‘wing?’ rest, right behind my heart begs to differ.

“You’re in Oregon doctor.” He feels my heart fall. How the hell is he going to explain this to Chase.

“But don’t worry, you can still go back to Brighton in the morning.” Wait what?

“Don’t worry about it.” She says as she begins to walk again just as he catches up with her. How did she-?

“Your thoughts are very loud. You best keep them quiet if you don’t want me to hear them.” Now he’s even more confused. She can read minds? What kinda-

“If you wish to keep your tongue I wouldn’t finish that thought.” Her tone holds a clear warning that sends a shiver down the doctor’s spine although that might be from the fact that he still feels as though he is being watched. He decides to just stay as quiet as possible as not to piss the woman who he vaguely remembers knowing Marvin in some way. She leads him down long hallways that are now lit by candles that barely seemed to melt. Although why candles and not something else is beyond him.

He looks around a bit trying not to make it obvious as he looks at the knick knacks and paintings and mirrors lining the walls occasionally passing dark wooden doors with carvings in Greek in them along with what they are probably associated with. She finally stops in front of a door with nothing on it.

“You can stay here for the night.” She opens the door before letting him go in first and he does so hesitantly, not wanting his back turned to her. He looks around the large room decorated in browns, reds and golds, with a large four poster bed with what look to be heavy red curtains with different shades of gold sewn into intricate patterns, surrounding said bed. There is a large dark wood desk across the other side of the room with bookshelves on either side and by the windows was a sitting area most likely for reading and eating.

He yawns finally realizing how tired he was and notices that he no longer feels the two pairs of eyes watching him anymore although he feels as if one of them had left before he walked into the room.

“Get some sleep. I’ll bring you some food in the morning.” She states from behind him. He turns to her but she has already left closing the door and for some reason that leaves an aching hole in his chest and he doesn't know why. He looks around the room one last time before walking over to the bed, kicking off his shoes and sitting on it. He looks around the room before muttering to himself as he lays on the bed,

“Worauf hast du dich eingelassen, Henrik?”

A/N: So the reason why paragraph(?) 17 is in first person is because they’re talking to Henrik.

Henrik’s translations:

Nein = No

Bitte, nein, nein = please no no

Ich-ich brauche = I-I Need

Hölle = Hell

Worauf hast du dich eingelassen, Henrik. = What have you gotten yourself into, Henrik.

What Liru was wearing. shoplook.io/outfit-preview/1572509

Tags:

@kittican

@antis-gauge

@flowers-zombie-rob

@trixie8264

@animallover4000

@i-maybe-exist

@nightanjel

@thegamerbook

@smolbean-pma

@the-chemist

@therealtiger77

@immabethehero

@miblogowo

#Once Upon a Dream #Henrik Von Schneeplestein #Marvin the Magnificent #Jackieboy Man #Jameson Jackson #Jack Mcloughlin #Antisepticeye #Septic #Chase Brody #Robbie the Zombie #Yandereiplier #Liru Mcloughlin

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myeternalsin · 4 years

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PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!

Hello everyone! 2020… WOW. Can I just say that it has been a complete and utter rollercoaster! IT’S BEEN AWFUL! I am making this post to explain multiple things about myself, my stories, my accounts, etc, so grab a cup of your favorite drink and finger snacks because this is gonna be one long a*$ post! (Excuse my French, but considering everything I’m about to explain I felt like I needed to write that!)

First off, 2020. I believe everyone thought that 2020 was going to be their year. Everyone had their hopes and spirits high to the skies. I was one of those many people. I celebrated New Years Eve with my boyfriend of 3 and a half years and thought this year would be perfect. Valentines day on a Friday, my 21st birthday on Easter, 4th of July on a Saturday, etc. COVID-19 happened. I live in Cedar Rapids Iowa where honestly, my governor had and still has done sh*t about COVID-19.

Around the end of March I was hit with some very hard information.

The daycare I worked at, 8-5, as a full time job during the week of spring break had it’s numbers DROP. I went from a class of 12 children to a minimum of 4 a day to a maximum of 7 children. I was even given Wednesday off along with my teacher assistant as we were TOO overstaffed at the center. Usually when I leave work at 5 o'clock, there’s about 20 to 25 children left by the end of the day since we close at 6. I should have known that Monday that the week was going to get worse. There were only 6 CHILDREN at the center when I left EARLY at 4:30. The next day I came home at 10 since we were overstaffed again, and was called at noon that our daycare was shut down. I’m laid off. Start filing for unemployment.

I was completely HEARTBROKEN. I was truly hoping to stay open, not for the pay or to “get the virus so I can stay home” as some of my co workers joked-but to stay open for the CHILDREN. I was praying that they could get through this and that this whole COVID-19 would blow ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL over soon… boy, was I WRONG!

I celebrated my 21st birthday at the apartment with my boyfriend instead of bar hopping since everything was shut down. I was completely and utterly BOARD. I had no clue what to do with myself! During this time, my boyfriend was also stuck in the apartment instead of at the office. While we were at the apartment, there was this trend on TikTok called the “towel drop challenge”. I was honestly thinking that since were both cooped up in this tiny apartment that was could, ya know, get it on~

Three and a half years. I was with this boy for three and a half years without ever losing my V-card! I mean, we’d tried on multiple occasions but I just never got my cherry popped. I was told by my mom that any boy would have taken my virginity by now and not waited this long. I even asked him a year after we were together if he was possibly gay or asexual. Which wouldn't have been a problem AT ALL! I have no hate against him however he identified sexually, I just wished that he would have told me or he would have done something about it.

That fateful day, I let him know that I wanted his time and attention. He could have walked away from his computer. There were times where he’d either be on his phone with his head down while “working”, or he’d come out into the living room to play a video game for half an hour while still “logged in and working”. I was hoping to just get ten minutes of his time. I was lying in my bed, naked and waiting for him. I know he saw me too, yet he didn’t do anything. It was the end of his work work shift, and I was waiting with anticipation for him to just POUNCE on me.

He gave me a kiss on the forehead and said, “I’m going downstairs to do laundry.”

My whole entire being shattered. I was completely DEVASTATED. I always asked myself after every time we tried having sex if something was wrong with me. Was I not pretty enough? Is it because I got bigger throughout the years we were together? Was it because I was inexperienced? Was I performing wrong on him when we would do stuff? I was pretty sure I was attracted to him both physically and personality wise. So what was wrong?

I got so upset and started screaming and yelling at him while crying everything out about not only what he just did, but about everything. In the end, I just collapsed on the bed and said “I want to go home.” I was like a broken record, uttering that saying over and over again.

So, I moved out. I am still living with my parents, and honestly it was rough and still is. I became so depressed. This boy was my best and sadly only friend I ever had. I had pushed away all of the friends I used to have because of him. I tried contacting some old friends, but they had all moved on with their lives. Everyone’s getting married, engaged, having kids, having pets, graduating college. I had nothing, or at least it felt like it at the time.

No friends, no boyfriend, moved in with my parents, and no job.

That’s right. The owner of the daycare never hired me back on, along with six other staff members. Around the beginning of July, I was wondering why I hadn’t been contacted to come back to work. I was willing to travel even though I didn’t live in that city anymore because of the breakup. I was notified by a coworker that they were back to work already a month ago and she was wondering where I was! I called the daycare and never went through to anyone about why I wasn't back.

I felt so useless. A failure. Disappointment. I wanted to not exist.

I knew that I shouldn’t have had these thoughts, and it scared the shit out of me that my mind was not only thinking it-but the feeling and urge to actually follow through with it.

So, I contacted my doctor. Got some antidepressants, and am trying to get a therapist at the moment. My doctors building with their therapist are practically booked with everything going on. It’ll still be a little bit before I can talk to someone. I was told by my doctor to try to find something to do that peaks my interest. I thought of my work and you guys. I’m proud of the writing I have and can’t believe I left you guys hanging, both on request and stories. I found something I could do to lift my spirits up yet again!...

PHSYIC!

August 10th 2020, I woke up at 10 in the morning. I made a hearty breakfast and an iced coffee for the first time in FOREVER! I was pumping myself up to get on here and to start writing again! After I was done eating, the city sirens went off.

“Is there a tornado?” I asked my parents. They themselves didn’t know either because both cable and the electricity went out as soon as I asked. We all hurried downstairs with all three and a half dogs as the wind picked up and the rain became more heavy. (I said a half because M,W,F we babysit my sister's little beagle dog.)

We sat and waited for the storm to be over and we were wondering what was going on. My dad was about to get up when BOOM! The house shook and vibrated all around us.

My mom started crying hysterically, my dad tried to comfort the dogs and create a barrier for them not to go upstairs, and I just kinda sat there. It was like I wasn’t really registering what was going on. Maybe it was because I was trying to stay positive? Maybe a couple branches just smashed the siding of the house or window? Were the antidepressants not allowing me to cry and freak out? I wasn’t sure what was going on with me at the time.

The rain stopped and my parents went upstairs to check everything out while I stayed downstairs with the dogs.

“Drip!”

“Argh! What the!?” I exclaimed as I showed my flashlight on my phone to the ceiling. It was dripping from the heating and cooling vent. I saw other droplets of water along the Styrofoam tile ceiling, and followed the trail towards the small kitchen area where there was water IN the ceiling light!

“Uhhhh, guys?” I yelled to my mom and dad upstairs.

“Wait a couple minutes sweetie!” My mom responded back as I started to hear their hurried feet running around upstairs.

“We got water coming downstairs!” I hollered as I grabbed a couple of empty solo cups I had downstairs since I was living down there to start collecting the water.

“Yeah? That’s ’cause we got a hole in the house!” My dad yelled.

The big tree in the backyard that was planted from the previous owner back in the 1950’s crashed into the living room from this storm we later learned 3 days later called Derecho. We’ve been recovering for about a month now. Almost everything is back to normal.

We got power and water back 2 weeks ago from today, the internet back a week ago, and cable has been kind of wonky. We’ve been wanting nothing but the news and were able to have cable for ONE DAY. It crashed and we still don’t have cable. We’ve tried antennas but they just aren’t working in our location.

The downstairs floor is ruined. We had to rip out the carpet and the floors now have asbestos. I live upstairs now in the guest room and we’re pretty much confined to the entry way since we still have a huge hole in the living room. No comfortable seating either. We’re hoping to hear back from the insurance claim sometime this week… but there's a possibility that we might just have to move if the damage is too much.

To put the good old fashioned cherry on top, one of our dogs may no longer be with us this week. She hasn’t eaten in the past couple of days and is only drinking water. We’re taking her to the vet tomorrow to see what’s going on, or if she’s suffering too much.

Honestly… 2020 can F#@! OFF! It’s been such an awful year! But! I am ready to get back into the swing of things and get back to writing and writing for you guys again!

I was going to explain some things about my accounts and rules but I feel a tad bit drained after writing this all out, and I haven't typed on a keyboard in so long! My wrists HURT! Give me a couple of hours and I'll be back with a PSA part 2! I will be posting this to all of my accounts so no one is left out of the loop. Be back soon!

~MyEternalSin

#author update #update #psa #public service announcement #x reader #oneshots #my hero academia #mha #my hero acadamy #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha #fanfiction #part 1 psa

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lovinmybaguettes · 4 years

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First of all just wanted to say that your blog is super helpful and i love it. Secondly, is there any way to know where you have to put accent marks without learning them by heart? Also, i know it is a lot but could you at some point do posts about verb tenses? Totally fine if you don't tho. Thanks!

Hello and thank you so much for the kind words 🥰

[fucking novel incoming]

Wow, that’s a tough question! Hadn’t you asked, I probably would’ve avoided the topic forever lol. Keep in mind this is VERY succinct as it’s just impossible to write everything and make it digestible 😅 See this link (in French) to see all the rules on accents. For verb tenses, it’s been in my program from the start so rest assured I’ll get to it in the future ;)

- first, the list of accents we use in French (I often see people using ones that don’t exist in our language):

- accent aigu: only é

- accent grave: à, è, ù

- accent circonflexe: â, ê, î, ô, û

- accents have several functions. The first is to change the pronunciation; this mainly applies to e’s. To know if you have to put an accent, ofc you have to know how the word is pronounced. When the e is supposed to sound like [e], [ɛ] or [ɛː], respectively like “clé”, “mère” or “fête”, you can put an accent mark on the e (the ones in the three words I chose). Quick tip: anglophones tend to pronounce those specific sounds with an “ɪ“ sound at the end, like in “say” or “café”, but to sound French you’ve got to remove that. Anyway, if you see a word like “pere” or “comete”, there’s probably an accent (père and comète). There are word endings that often imply an accented ‘e’ (-ète, -ère, many past participles...). Also ô changes the pronunciation.

- there are exceptions (yes...) when you don’t need an accent because the sound is suggested by the letters that follow the e: that includes doubled consonants, ‘x’, ‘f’, or ‘st’ (e.g. exister, chef, Brest). Those are the exceptions I can think of off the top of my head but there’s probably more.

- other accents serve to change the meaning of the word: for example, the only purpose of the ù is to differentiate où (’where’) from ou (’or’). It’s literally the ONLY word that uses ù. Our keyboards have a WHOLE KEY for ONE FUCKING WORD (granted, it’s a useful one. Il manquerait plus que ça.) There’s also à: while a is the third person singular for the verb avoir, à is a preposition that has a shit ton of uses; similarly, la is the feminine singular definite article while là means ‘there’. These don’t alter the pronunciation.

- back on ô and its bros, â, ê, î and û. A trick to know if a word needs a circumflex accent is to know if that word has lost a letter as French evolved. Don’t know jack shit about the history of French? Still simple. If the English translation is a transparent word, it will still have that lost letter, an s: forest becomes forêt in French, and hospital becomes hôpital (ngl I sometimes need to do this too to put the accent on the right letter when I get brain farts lol). You can also look at word families: we write fête but to feast/celebrate (in outdated French) is festoyer; we say un hôpital but we say le milieu hospitalier; we say une forêt but we say un garde forestier. Another note (ik this is a mess 😢): ô can also change the meaning/role of the word in the sentence: notre/votre vs. nôtre/vôtre

Will stop here cause it’s already long enough and then we’d be getting too detailed. I don’t believe you need to learn the rules to get it right; we don’t even learn all that here when we grow up. Obviously, the learning process isn’t the same for us and for you, but we ALL develop an instinct as we fight our way into the language. As you take in more French vocab, grammar etc, the pattern will imprint into your brain without you realizing and you’ll just know what’s correct and natural or not (for this you need to read a lot). That’s why I’m so shit at explaining and need to research every time: I can’t explain why it’s like this. It just makes sense to me 😭

n e ways I’m sorry I couldn’t make this shorter lol, everyone be warned: if you’re gonna ask a question, chances are you’re getting a fucking essay 🤪 hope this helped you and thanks again for the question!!

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fleurbastien · 4 years

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✧･ﾟ( persephone + jordan fisher + demiguy ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !! have you seen Bastien Lalande around ? they/he have/has been in kaos for fourteen months. the twenty-six year old is a botanist from martinique. people say they can be detached but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be amicable. whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of (( a sunlit greenhouse, sand underfoot on a temperate beach, a streak of dirt smudged across the cheek )). ･ﾟ✧

Bio

Bastien Lalande was born and raised on the island of Martinique to Danielle and Henri Lalande. Their plan was to have a flock of children. Family was what they prized most in this world. They could imagine no happier future than peering out the window of their sizable family home and see kinds running through the grass, kicking back and forth a football. Their plans were abruptly thwarted. Between their first and third years of life, Bastien was too young to understand or remember the complications that Danielle experienced with having another child. How close she came to passing away after the third surgery. It was this near-death experience which prompted the couple to mutually agree on focusing raising Bastien, and to spare Danielle anymore physical and emotional pain. Despite their agreement, a fragment of Henri and Danielle died; their dreams shattered as though a rock had been thrown squarely into a mirror. Because of this, a seed was planted deep within their minds that, just maybe, if they hadn’t had Bastien, they would still have some semblance of future aspiration.

Life on Martinique was personal. Communal. Familial. Everyone said hello to one another as they passed. Honking was a sign of neighborly greeting, not irritation at the traffic. You can imagine that, growing up in this culture, Bastien became quite the socialite. They were charming, active, knowledgeable, and sportive. People loved seeing him skipping down the road on his way to school, and cheered him on as captain of the Yole Sailing team. He was the picture of stability, as his parents’ world was on the decline. Running a cafe was difficult with a staff of three, and even harder when you had to run operations at the age of thirteen. There were days when he was in charge of opening and closing procedures, and some days more during which he would have to miss school in order to help out at the shop. Bastien was growing to resent the positions into which he was thrust. He was convinced that he should be out enjoying his life, not toiling under responsibilities which should not be his own. A heavy weight began to oppress his shoulders. His personality began to dampen, despite his best efforts. What was worse, he didn’t let on to the community that he was struggling. He felt that, for the sake of dignity (or some other noble reason), he had to keep private the fact that his parents were no longer fit to care for him.

After several years, a poetic path appeared. A divergence of destiny. Bastien could travel halfway across the world and attend the University of Hawaii at Manoa, or they could continue looking after their parents, who severely needed their help. The decision sent the youngling into a depressive state. He knew his dreams lay at the other side of that graduation stage in Hawaii, but he also knew that there was no real choice; he had to stay for his parents, despite their contentious relationship. Danielle was fatigued more often than not, and if Bastien couldn’t anticipate her needs, she would find it in her energy to berate him (putting it kindly). At that point, Henri had enough of a reason to despise Bastien. Not only did his son take away three more children from him, but contributed to the heartbreak and physical condition of his beloved as well. It was at this important crossroads that Bastien’s behavior altered radically, deviating from his usual sunny disposition. As it happened, nothing went unnoticed by his extended family for long. By and by, upon discovering his dilemma, they practically made the decision for him. They would take care of his parents and send him off to college.

Sparing unnecessary details of Bastien’s college life, he obtained an undergraduate degree in biology, and went on to get his Master’s degree in Botany from the very same school. His intelligence and charisma had his professor’s hooked, and it was easy for him to be admitted to the PhD program there. His advising professor won a grant from the NSF and was further funded by the university to conduct a field school on the island of Kaos in Greece. Before applications even opened, the professor had made his decision, for the only name that jumped into his mind for a field assistant was none other than Bastien Lalande.

The two, along with four undergraduates, have been on the island for just over a year, doing extensive research on Mediterranean vegetation. Bastien is using this opportunity to develop his doctoral research, simultaneously writing his dissertation. Weekdays, Bastien can be found in the field and in the lab, running soil samples, or peering into microscopes. On the weekends, he clacks away at his keyboard, synthesizing as much information as possible. When he finds free-time, or needs to clear his head, he loves swimming, or sailing if he can find a boat.

Running into Bastien, one would encounter a shining smile, a charming accent, and hospitality that would make you feel as though you knew him for an eternity. He might invite you on a hike, or show you a greenhouse. It is rare to catch him without a flower tucked behind the ear. However, if one truly tried to dig deeper beneath the surface than the charisma that he emanates, they might find that there isn’t much they actual know about Bastien, as if all information on his deep, honest thoughts have been entombed far beneath the ground.

Although they miss the Caribbean islands, they feel something deep in the pit of their stomach which anchors them to Kaos. A lifetime’s worth of knowledge sits at their feet in Greece. It would take all of their willpower to turn away from it.

Headcanons

very much “gerry durrell” from the durrels in corfu vibes

if you havent seen it i recommend

but instead of being obsessed with animals hes obsessed with plants

very smiley, outgoing, charismatic, loves chatting with strangers as long as the questions dont get too personal

A-1 athlete, can swim until the cows come home

flower aesthetics galore. he likes to draw flowers, wear flowers (prints and real flowers, ofc), and grow flowers in his window sills and from hanging pots

are u french ? he will speak french to u if so

underneath, hes a lil moody. his parents began to blame him for his mother’s health complications. they wanted a family so badly that they kinda alienated their only child

he loves loves loves martinique but dreads going back to that life that was hard, tortuous even

writes to his family to make sure everyone is okay, but doesnt talk to anyone on kaos about it

kinda wonders if he should blame himself for complications ?

can be found lying in the dirt contemplating his woes. or singing. or singing because of his woes.

you honestly cant be a fan of botany without developing a relationship with bugs. in this case, bastien l o v e s them. even the scary ones

Insp

click the link !

Playlist

orange trees - marina

le monarque des indes - pierre lapointe

be my baby - the ronettes

harvest moon - neil young

sweet creature - harry styles

at last - etta james

buttercup - hippo campus

semaphore - requin chagrin

home again - first aid kit

motivation - normani

dream a little dream of me - doris day

#* about #* intro

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cle1024 · 5 years

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abstracted | lmh

member: lee minho

genre: angst

summary: art was his passion, his vivid daydreams, yet it was also the thing that caused him the most pain. when he saw art personified, so rare and exquisite, it only hurt more. painter!au

warnings: mentions of anxiety

a/n: i intended for this to have a different ending but it became way too long for me to write the full ending, so it’s kind of rushed towards the end. i also apologise if the formatting is really bad, i’m still figuring out how to post on a functioning blog lmao

His life was a paradox. Paint splattered his skin, the secondary hues mixing in with his moles and scars. The canvas suffered more so, fat strokes painted in shapes he couldn’t quite identify. By the time he had completed the work the syndrome had already gone too far, clouding his vision with dizziness and a thick smog that only seemed to disappear when he ripped his eyes from the canvas he spent hours hunched over. It was a punishing gift, and a hugely ironic tragedy.

A painter, Lee Minho, who couldn’t look his own art in the face. Waves would crash on his body, pinning him to sharp rocks until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Only then would he drag himself away, wheezing out of his studio as he clutched the doorframe. It had many names, though most commonly Stendhal syndrome. He never truly understood what it entailed, but from what he had experienced it was nothing good. There were parts of the diagnosis he had cut out, his eleven year old mind figuring his older self could fill in the gaps - he was wrong. The doctor had mentioned it was psychosomatic, would cause him physical and emotional anxiety, dizziness, fainting, maybe hallucinations if it was particularly bad. They were selective symptoms, in the fact they would only occur when he viewed art. No one was quite sure how it happened or what it meant, just that it had originated in the 19th-century with French author Marie-Henri Beyle. Some thought it was poetic, some thought it was bizarre, Minho tried not to think about it.

A deep sigh left his defined lips as his hand came up to wipe his forehead. It was only transitioning to spring, yet the heat had already picked up dramatically. Sweat tickled at his hairline, threatening to spill down his forehead in river streams. All he wanted was some water, a fan, anything to cool him down. Instead he stood in front of an incomplete canvas, the light breeze from the window doing nothing to calm his rising body temperature. He could distinctly make out half of a face, oddly familiar in its features and dimensions, but still no masterpiece. At first, he resented all forms of art. How dare such beauty bring him such immense pain, so much panic and suffering. It wasn’t until he tried picking up his own paintbrush that he realised how freeing it was. His hatred soon transformed into appreciation, which then upgraded to motivation. In Minho’s warped reality, a hard time breathing and remaining conscience while viewing his art was rewarding, as it proved to him he’d made a masterpiece. If that didn’t happen, then he’d hang the painting up in his house and try again. Three out of forty works remained in his house, the rest being shipped off to independent collectors, friends or family. Not once did the thought of his art being in a gallery strike him. Nothing about his style was traditional, nor was he. The top layer of strokes shook with overwhelming emotion, some having large lines out of place from where he’d collapsed in the final moments of painting. Yet in his eyes, there was something perfect about them. The way they shook so meticulously - such a beautiful contradiction. His hand reached for the damp cloth hanging from the waist of his shorts, touching it to his forehead as he closed his eyes in momentary bliss. When he was looking for the best room for his studio, the one with the most sunlight seemed like a good idea. Perfect lighting for almost all hours of the day, never a need to adjust his easel to reflect such light. He hadn’t considered the lack of fans and air conditioning in the room that would surely make him suffer during the warm weeks spring and summer. But it was okay, he was used to suffering.

Your eyes drifted absentmindedly, taking in the full lecture hall. A 10:00am lecture, yet you could barely keep your eyes open. The eyelids would weigh heavily on you momentarily in the hopes of making you crumble under the pressure of exhaustion. Everything had been building up lately - you had design tasks due left and right, and you still had to haul ass to the Art Theory lectures you were expected to do, despite not having art as your main course. A sigh forced its way up your throat at the thought. Every night it became harder to sleep. You could practically feel the bags under your eyes sinking as each hour passed under the moonlight, but nothing changed. Of course you’d tried sleeping pills, three different kinds in all honesty, yet nothing could defeat the heavy weight of anxiety that kept you up at night. There were too many questions inside your head: what will my design be? How many materials will I need? Who should be my model? Why do I still drink coffee when it just makes me crash in the middle of class? It was exhausting, tiring enough to make you rest your head on the table for a second. Your laptop was open in front of you, a fresh word document open and waiting for you to type some notes about the lecture you begrudgingly attended. But your hands never met the keyboard. They remained in your lap as you kept your head down throughout the lecture, fading in and out of sleep as your professor droned on about the theoretical concepts of art. Line, shape, colour, what good were they to you? Art wasn’t your major, you shouldn’t have cared. Key word: shouldn’t. You still cared, far too much evidently, as you woke up and came to the realisation that you missed an entire lecture. You cursed yourself repetitiously, how could you fall asleep like that? You probably missed important information for the exam! You bunched your hair in your fist. You were truly and utterly screwed.

On the opposite side of the hall, Minho had sat with his back against the wall, half-focusing on the lecture and half-searching for a new art inspiration. He tended to get bored of subjects easily, so painting the same people he saw everyday was utterly dissatisfying. Perhaps the curve of the professors bald head, or the glow of the rectangular laptop, or the sunlit person sleeping through the lecture. Minho’s eyes darted back to their figure to confirm what he had thought so absentmindedly. There, in plain sight, someone had the audacity to sleep through Professor Kang’s numbing lecture. He smiled slightly to himself, what a reckless maniac; I love it. The sun filtered through the window gently to form an angelic glow around their head. He had a clear view of their face, forme with delicate and peaceful eyes, yet sharp cheekbones and distinct lips. Something about them was so perfect, as if they had been hand sculpted by the gods, hours spent meticulously crafting every last feature. They were truly a masterpiece - Minho’s smile dropped. Oh no, his vision began to cloud, the pressure around his neck tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe. Get out, get out, get out, get out. He packed his things in a daze, based purely off of muscle memory. His sight was stripped from him and if he wasn’t quick enough then his breath would be too. Clumsily, he stumbled out of the lecture theatre, muttering profuse apologies until he had left the suffocating area. Go home, go to your studio, get the fuck out of here. Something wasn’t right, but it simultaneously felt as if everything had fallen into place. All of his painting life, Minho had searched for the muse that would bring him to his knees in agony, reflect the very distress his paintings caused him. Now, as he speed-walked back to his home, he was convinced he had found that in the mysterious person at the back of the lecture hall. Inspiration was a vital part of his work, his hobby, his future career, but at what cost did he owe? Part of him was conflicted. Shall he fall to his knees, burn under your gaze without a second thought? Or shall he hide in the shadows, paint around the panic and become breathless from his imitation of life? No matter which choice he went with, Minho would still suffer. Life truly liked to do that to him.

Minho panted slightly, his movements getting more erratic as the colours melted together. Yellows trickled into browns trickled into whites, yet in all the chaos he still managed to highlight beauty. His vision was getting spotty, rarely moving his eyes from the canvas even if it meant dipping his paintbrush in the wrong colour - he could find ways around that, but letting himself lose the momentum he built up was something he simply could not compromise. Line after line, shape by shape, the detail slowly filled in as he recreated the image in the lecture theatre. The one that had him wheezing all the way home, clutching at his dry chest as he ran and silently prayed his legs wouldn’t collapse under him. His sharp eyebrow furrowed in concentration, the light tickling of his bangs going unnoticed. Stay awake, just a little longer. He urged himself, pleading with life to be on his side for once. Frantic, maniacal movements spurred him on at this point, his eyes darting to different sections of the page where he could add something new. More detail on the shirt, more lighting on the hair, quickly, just a little more. With a finally stroke of his smallest paintbrush, he allowed himself to step back heavily. He haphazardly threw his palette on the stool beside him, hoping his paintbrush landed in the cup of water before his vision went out completely and he collapsed. It was truly a scene, one that would baffle yet inspire anyone who walked in on it. A palette placed perfectly on a stool, right next to a paint-tainted cup of water with numerous brushes poking from it, all diagonal to the man laying on the floor unconscious. His eyebrows were furrowed, hair blowing slightly as the breeze trickled in, light blue shirt unstained despite his vigorous work. His work, almost photograph like, good enough to bring anyone to the same state as he. A simple scene, yet a devastating impact. Someone sleeping on a table, opened laptop and sunlight threading through their hair. It was an accurate representation of the life of the student, yet it was captured so surreal. Not a stroke was out of place, no shaky final layers or misplaced colours in moments of intense emotion. Everything was perfect, just as Minho had always hoped. Something had changed in that one painting - it had proved to him that he could work through shaky hands and spotty visions, still producing paintings that could be mistaken as photographs. When Minho’s eyes eventually fluttered open, only to be met with the image of you sleeping across from him, he truly thought he’d lost his mind. He recalled the painting, but this wasn’t about the painting. You weren’t in the painting anymore; instead, you were lying beneath the canvas in front of him. Minho’s dark orbs rolled back into his head as he fell backwards once more, I suppose I’ve truly lost my mind.

“It’s been awhile since you came in for a checkup,” the crinkled man smiled from behind his glasses, gesturing for the patient to sit in the plastic chair across from him, “so, what seems to be the problem?” Minho rubbed his hands together slightly, eyes darting to the side as he went over his pre-planned explanation.

“Uh, I was painting the other day, and I passed out. But, when I woke up the painting was-like-alive,” Minho blinked rapidly before continuing, “the… thing, I painted was in front of me when I woke up. It-it wasn’t in the painting anymore, it was mimicking the painting in front of me.”

The panic began to rise in his chest as he awaited a response from the doctor. The older man had sat there, nodding every few seconds to indicate his understanding of what Minho was saying, but just because he understood didn’t mean he had an answer. He adjusted his glasses before unclasping his hands, “it seems that you had a particularly vicious episode, this time including hallucinations. Minho, I really wish I could do more, but we just don’t know enough about it. The best advice I could give is to find an anchor of some sorts,” he gestured with his hands, “you know, something that can just ground you in that moment.” Minho nodded softly despite his dissatisfaction. They don’t know enough about it, even after two centuries have passed.

The paintbrush lingered over the canvas, tickling the material with saturated hues of blue to mirror the Spring sky. Flowers had quickly bloomed, cold weather had been temporarily eradicated, tranquility whistled through the trees and along the crystal clear water of ponds. Though Minho could not be at peace, even if he tried. As his colours blended together in a dance of dark and light, he allowed his mind to be captivated by the sight - directly ignoring the doctor’s advice to “find an anchor”. This artwork wasn’t for the purpose of bettering himself, it was rather to experiment on how far he could push it. How much of his mind had he truly lost? White paint arched into the blue background as Minho delicately stroked the canvas, watching his work form intently. Something about it was soothing to watch, but caused him such stress and anguish. What an awful paradox. The black dots started to stipple their way into the clouds, darkening the sky into a thunderstorm. Minho panicked - he wasn’t done yet. Frantic hands reached for the purple-stained paintbrush, swiftly striking the canvas with dark slaps of the colour. Petal after petal, stroke after stroke, Minho created a new landscape through blurred vision and shaking hands. His lungs begged for air, releasing wheezes and gasps from Minho’s throat. He couldn’t breathe, not yet, not until he was complete. The painting was a simple still-image, mirroring the purple Bellflower that sat in a crystal vase by his window. Light twinkled in the fragile possession, framing the flower in an angelic glow. It was a simple image that caused much harm to Minho, making him stumble over his feet and straight to his knees, paintbrush and palette still in hand. Unconsciousness beat him stiffly, but at least the painting was complete. Thirty minutes later, his eyes fluttered open as a hefty weight fell on his head. The painting stood across from him, no change in its contents. Nothing out of the painting, nothing replicating its contents. There was no hallucination, everything stayed the same. Minho pushed himself into a sitting position, mouth open slightly as the wind blew outside. Now he understood why doctors didn’t understand how to help people with the illness, he couldn’t even make sense of his own symptoms.

Your head rested on your palm, pushing your cheek upwards as you attempted to keep yourself awake. In your head you whispered thank you’s to whatever higher power made sure your teacher did a theoretical lecture today, you didn’t think you could stay attentive enough to avoid sewing something wrong or stabbing yourself with the needle. Although you certainly enjoyed sewing, the possibility of spilling your own blood on your work wasn’t appealing - sure, the symbolism of ‘blood, sweat and tears’ becoming a reality sounded artistic, but blood stains were harder to remove than you had expected. Your eyes focused on the digital clock stationary behind the professor, only ten minutes left. In your mind, you pleaded for no assigned work - no extra reading or online theoretical tests. At the moment, you had a major work for your practical due. An entire fashion collection, birthed out of your colourful imagination in dark shades of soft fabrics, velvet that would hug the skin of your model. If you even had a model. With a heavy sigh, you packed away your belongings into the leather shoulder bag beside you.

Minho checked the time on his phone as he strolled through the campus, absentmindedly calculating whether he should bother catching the bus or running home. Majority of the time, the bus was late enough for Minho to walk home before it even arrived, though he was never sure why. The route it traveled wasn’t typically congested on a Wednesday afternoon. Lowering his phone to the pocket of his jeans, he allowed his eyes to raise across the campus. An exploration of the blue sky, old brown brick buildings and cobblestone path began in his mind. He drifted, allowing himself to imagine painting such a scenery, wondering whether the shades of brown would blend as easily as he would like. Though his fantasy was cut short, sliced through with a sharp and unexpected knife. His footsteps halted as he watched. Again, the sleeping person from the lecture, fell into his line of sight. With open eyes he could clearly distinguish pigmented skin from deep-sunken eye bags, it was no wonder they slept through that lecture. In the two times Minho had observed them, the light had managed to cascade down on them to provide a heavenly glow. Perhaps it was a message from the beyond, singling this person out as the muse he’d always searched for, longingly. Then, it started. Blurry, the buildings shifted, and Minho felt himself moving without thinking. There was no time to catch the bus.

He lay still, head tilted slightly to the left as an arm rested on his upper abdomen. The painting was once again replicatory, vividly so. To the point where any passerby would question how you could print a photo onto a canvas, only to then become aware of the unconscious artist who lay across from his work. His work. It was a large portrait of you - that nameless, sleepy person - as you moved through the campus. Surroundings blurred, colours melted together to convey your speed, but there was a distinct fixation on you. Every feature mirrored to perfect, even the attention to your eye bags. Minho had only glanced for twenty seconds, yet he had managed to perfectly replicate the glance hours later. With heavy eyelids and a bruise forming on the back of his head, Minho lifted himself into a seating position, rubbing his eyes. As he focused on his surroundings, his eyes widened and he jumped back in shock at the sight ahead of him. The painting, a blurred background of brown buildings and greenery. That was all. In front of him, you stood. Side-on, the exact direction of the paintings, mimicking his work as he woke. If he reached out and touched you, surely you’d disappear, evaporate as a figment of his imagination. But, you seemed so real. Just as you did in his painting, only this time you weren’t a two-dimensional subject on a canvas. You were a physical, life-sized artwork come to life - almost like a sculpture, but less obvious. Minho allowed unconsciousness to tug his hair backwards and into the realm of darkness. He had no answers to his questions, nor did he have an understanding of what was happening, but he had already made the decision that avoiding you - a random student at the same university as him - was the best option.

It was successful to say the least. Not that you noticed, but Minho stopped looking at you for inspiration. In fact, he didn’t paint much at all anymore. There was a period after his discovery where he tried, even without seeing your face prior. Yet his pink sky ended up having your face blended into the hues, the city scape had you looking out a window, and the bowl of fruit had a hand reaching in with an identical dainty ring on. Subconsciously, you became the focus of all of his work, and it scared him to no end. Certainly more than the first time he passed out or panicked while seeing art. So he had temporarily retired his paintbrush and freshly woven canvases, opting instead for the limitless control of the sculpting medium. Clay gave him more control than painting. With painting, it was an out of body experience. There are no thoughts, only movement and creation. But he has a conscious thought process while shaping clay, making note of which areas to push which way. His temporary retirement from painting extended to longer than anyone could have expected. One week turned into month, turned into three months, then into six, then to where he was now. Eight months without stepping into his studio or analysing his environment as if it were an incomplete painting. Eight months closer to his practical assessment.

The concern about Minho’s artwork had grown, only in his professor, though. His art wasn’t something he indulged in with friends or family, it was more an off-handed gift under the guise of “spring cleaning”, even in the middle of autumn. Though his professor had somehow figured out his work. He could sense the passion in every painting, and the rate at which Minho produced them impressed him to no end. So when Minho seemingly gave up on the medium, he obviously found it concerning, “Minho, a word?” Minho shoved his hands in his hoodie as he approached the professor, raising his eyebrows confusedly, “you’re not in any trouble if that’s your concern,” it wasn’t, “I just wondered why you’d given up on painting so suddenly.” Minho grew tense - that question was his concern.

“Oh-uh, I-I’m just not feeling it anymore, I guess.”

“You guess, or you know?” The professor raised his eyebrows as Minho silently cursed himself for his revealing slip up, “Minho, you’re an incredibly talented painter. Whatever has put you off painting needs to leave your mind, just let yourself be guided by the paintbrush. I expect to see it for your major work,” the younger male nodded softly before leaving the room. With a sigh, he began the walk to the bus stop. Although he hated late buses, he didn’t want to go back home. Something in him didn’t want to be confronted with the closed door to his studio. He didn’t want to unleash his talents again, as strange as it was. Though when he made it home, yellow coated paintbrush hovering over the canvas with the intention of letting the paint guide him, nothing happened. No emotion overwhelmed him, there was no exiting of his soul as passion took over. He just stood there, blank faced as he stared at the blank canvas. Then the questions came to him: I wonder how sleepy student is doing. Is their hair any different? Do they still sleep through Art Theory lectures? Are they still the inspiration I need? He couldn’t paint without inspiration, and you’d unknowingly become his muse. Neither of you knew it, you’d never even made eye contact before, let alone spoke. Minho let out a huff as he slammed the paintbrush on the stool beside him, golden toxicities spilling onto the wooden material, certain to stain if he didn’t clean it up fast enough. He didn’t. Instead, he turned his back on his paintings, the bare canvas and fresh paint. All he did was turn around and walk through the door.

Minho tried his best to approach you, running over ways to start conversation in his head, but as soon as you even glanced in his direction - not necessarily at him - it became far too hard to breathe. Pitiful, slightly. Pathetic, certainly. In his utopia, you would be the anchor to ground him, the sense of tranquility to calm his flurry of emotions brought on by messy paint and beautified canvases. Clearly, you were not. You were a paradox. You brought so much inspiration to Minho, so many bursts of inspiration in the midst of lectures, enough for him to start frantically sketching you over his notes - which was certainly a mess, but so was he. Simultaneously, you made life so much more difficult for him. You gave him a muse for his major work, but you made it hard to get reference glances. All you did was make him dizzy, high on a perfect mix of elation and panic, before sending him crashing down as you disappeared from eyesight. You would never know about it - mainly because Minho would never be able to tell you, but also because he’d be too embarrassed to let anyone catch a glimpse. It was almost stalkerish of him. Only almost. The most he knew about you was your face, the way your hair framed it, the way the light brought out the colours that tinted you, the way you slept through lectures or typed notes one letter every half-a-second. No name, no major, nothing. That didn’t stop the concern growing in him as every time he saw you your eye bags were darker than the last. He would never have the strength to ask about it.

You still appeared in front of him when he woke up, sometimes he could even poke you gently and feel smooth skin. There was never a heartbeat, there never would be. But, Minho was okay with that. Perhaps you wouldn’t be the anchor he wanted, perhaps there was no anchor. As long as he had the muse and passion to paint, that would be enough for him.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #lee know #lee minho #lee minho angst #lee minho scenario #lee know angst #lee know scenario #painter!au #stray kids minho #stray kids lee know

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utanoprincendymion · 5 years

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I was tagged by @everybodyknows-everybodydies to answer some questions, so here goes:

1. Have you ever seen your favorite fic trope portrayed in media outside fic? How did you feel about it? My favorite fic trope....hm...I don’t know if I have a favorite trope per se. But I do enjoy time loops/ time travel (when done well), which can often be traced to Groundhog Day (time loops) and Sailor Moon (future kids somehow in the past).

2. What’s a song you absolutely have to listen to at least twice whenever it comes on? Obsessed by Dynoro

3. What’s your favorite quote? What about it speaks to you? “Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality” by Lewis Carroll. It speaks to me because I use shows, movies, books, fan works, and creating my own works to distract from/ keep me moving in spite of the anxiety and sadness I feel about current events every day.

4. Any favorite historical media niches? (ex: 18th century women’s poetry, early 1900s comedy films, prehistoric music, etc) Um.....1900s French postcards?

5. You can meet one fictional character. Who is it and what do you do? So many choices. Let’s go with Totoro. I’d take a nap on his belly.

6. Can you cook/bake? What’s your favorite recipe to make? I can follow recipes, but I don’t cook/ bake often. Though, usually I help my grandmother make Jello cookies around the holidays.

7. Favorite holiday? Do you have any traditions that go with that holiday? Halloween! I miss trick-or-treating. It was always a favorite growing up. I enjoy the different layers of of the holiday. You can be spoopy. And others can be horrifying. It’s fun, and I like costumes. My dad used to always dress up as a pirate to take my brother and I out trick-or-treating.

8. What color were/are the walls of your childhood bedroom? Pastel pink.

9. If you could take one class on anything for a whole academic semester, what would it be? Creative writing.! It was my favorite class. I wish I could take the sequel class!

10. And finally, what’s the last dream you remember having? My supervisor and I look a little bit alike. Enough for people to mistake us as mother and daughter. So I dreamed that I put my sunglasses up on my head (as she does) and pretended to be her while typing on the keyboard. But then, dream me panicked cause I couldn’t see without my glasses on.

My questions to you:

1. If you were to tag your life as a fic on ao3, what would be some of the tags used?

2. What did the last rainfall you remember sound like? Against your roof? Your car? Your umbrella?

3. What kind of scenes in media make you cry? (I.e. I tear up at dog movie trailers even though I don’t watch those kind of things)

4. Have you ever fallen a little bit in love with a stranger? What were they like?

5. If you were able to flawlessly perform 3 songs for a crowd of adoring fans, which songs would you pick?

6. If you lived in the world or Avatar the Last Airbender, what kind of bender would you be, and why? Or would you be a non-bender?

7. If you could have a pet that was a fusion of 2 existing creatures, what would it be?

8. Who would you take on a road trip and why?

9. What was the last thing that made you squeal?

I’m going to tag a few people, but none of you should feel obligated to do this. @timbrejack @emblian @tenjoin @paperstarzzart @hemipta @sustisama

#tag meme #raine talks

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iambuckyrogers · 5 years

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Promises

Summary: You made a promise to yourself to not succumb to your boss’s charm. How will you cope when you realise you're falling for him?

Word Count: 2340

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: panic attack, angst, some swear words, it ends happily I swear

Authors Note: This was for @petersshirts 1k challenge. It was struggling a bit with a good storyline for this prompt but thanks to a shitty date I went on recently and my terminally unrequited crush I came up with this beauty. Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated xx

Prompt: “I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never look in my direction.”

* * * * *

When you took the job as Tony Stark’s assistant you made a promise to yourself, that you wouldn’t fall for the playboy’s charm. You had done quite well in the first few months, keeping all correspondence strictly professional, never acknowledging his occasional flirtatious remarks or engaging in functions that weren’t work-related. It had all gone downhill quickly when one morning Friday sent you an urgent message calling you to Tony’s workshop. She hadn’t elaborated on what the problem was, so you went in expecting the absolute worst. Due to Tony’s notorious disdain towards personal safety, you expected him to have been injured by some sort of explosion or an invention gone wrong. What you were met with certainly wasn’t what you thought you’d see. Instead, you found Tony curled up in the foetal position at the foot of his workbench. His face was buried into his knees as he rocked himself back and forth, body shaking uncontrollably. You approached him cautiously, an outstretched hand brushing him gently on the shoulder as you settled yourself on the floor next to him.

“Tony, it’s Y/N,” you whispered, “are you ok?” You didn’t really expect a response, it was more to just let him know that you were there for him. He slowly uncurled himself and looked at you with red-rimmed eyes, tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. His breathing was shallow and rapid, sweat beaded along his forehead. You had never seen him look so vulnerable and it broke your heart. You reached out and took one of his hands in yours, resting your fingers on his pulse point you felt the manic beating of his heart.

“Tony, I’m going to need you to take some deep breaths with me, okay?” you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, “Just like that Tony. Do the next one with me,” You took another breath, this time Tony followed your lead. He took in a shaky breath, held it for a few seconds before letting it out again.

“Okay just a couple more,” you reassured him. He closed his eyes and continued to breathe deeply, each breath coming easier than the last. Gradually, his heart rate returned to normal, you squeezed his hand gently before pulling away.

“How do you feel now, Tone?” you asked. He took another deep breath and opened his eyes but looked anywhere but at you.

“Better thanks,” he replied shortly, pulling himself to his feet and quickly busying himself with the mess of tools that littered his workbench.

“Do you know what triggered your anxiety?” Tony’s shoulders tensed. He turned from his bench to face you, his face unreadable.

“No, I’m fine,” he murmured, more as a question than a statement, “you can go now.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand and turned back to focus on his work. Not wanting to upset him any further you hurried out of his workshop and went back to your own work.

Since that day, your mission to keep your feelings towards your boss strictly professional got infinitely harder. Seeing a different side of Tony changed the way you saw him. You caught a glimpse of the softer, more sensitive side to the usual extravagant, cocky man that you were so used to dealing with and you wanted to get to know him more. Each interaction with him left your heart beating just a little faster, your hands a bit clammy and heart not quite filled. The only issue was, since that day Tony seemed to be going out of his way to avoid you. He spent as much time as he could locked away in his workshop and when he did emerge he kept any dealings with you very short and succinct. You were starting to go mad, torn between wanting Tony’s attention and wanting to punch him in his stupid face. Your best friend, Y/F/N, wasn’t oblivious to your struggles.

“Come on Y/N, just give it a try,” Y/F/N implored waving the phone in front of your face.

“Fine,” you groaned snatching the phone out of their hand. They had been trying for weeks to get you to sign up for tinder and you’d reached your wits end, giving in if only to shut them up for five minutes. You went about setting up your profile, adding a few decent pictures of yourself but you were stumped for what to write in the bio.

“Just write whatever you feel is right,” your friend suggested. So you did just that, settling for one of the cringiest pick up lines you could find on the internet.

“Hey how does this sound? Are you french? Because Eiffel for you,” you choke out through giggles. Your friend shakes their head and laughs softly.

“Man, that’s so bad.”

“I know, that’s the point.” You had no intention of actually pursuing anyone on tinder so hopefully, the terrible pun would turn any potential suitors off.

“Now start swiping!” your friend snatched the phone out of your hand and swiped right on everyone they came across.

“Woah no don’t do that!” you shouted wrestling them for the phone.

“A match!” they cheered triumphantly causing you to stop your assault.

“Really?!”

“Yep and look at this, they’ve already messaged!” your friend held the phone out to you and sure enough on the screen was a message from a guy named Martin.

Martin: Do you like raisins?

“What the hell?” your fingers hovered over the keyboard thinking of how you could reply to such an odd message. Eventually, you typed your response.

Y/N: Not overly fond but i do enjoy wine

Within seconds Martin replied.

Martin: Well how would you feel about a date?

“Wow this guy is smooth,” you laughed to your friend.

“See it’s not that bad,” they chided to which you stuck out your tongue.

You kept talking to Martin. He was a surprisingly decent guy, he always messaged to see how your day was, he’d tell you bad jokes if you were feeling down and he never once sent you an unsolicited dick pic! Things were going pretty well for you and Martin but you still couldn’t get Tony truly out of your head. It was hard when you saw him almost every day, each time was like a punch to the gut reminding you of what you couldn’t have. You thought about quitting but the pay was amazing and besides, you were really good at your job and doubted that they would let you go without a fight. After a few weeks of talking to Martin, you finally set a date. You were going to meet him at an Italian restaurant in downtown New York. After finishing up your errands for the day you returned to your quarters in the compound. Another perk of being Tony’s assistant, you never knew when he’d need you, so you were on call 24/7 and got to live at the Avengers compound. You had decided to wear the new cocktail dress that you had gotten for your birthday. It was a little red, off the shoulder number that hugged your figure perfectly and accentuated your best features. You finished off your look with silver hoop earrings, a pearl bracelet and silver heels. You applied your make up and pulled your hair up into a loose bun, giving yourself one last look in the mirror before hurrying out to the awaiting uber. You walk past the common room where you spot Tony nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels and bag of popcorn, watching a David Attenborough documentary about the Great Barrier Reef. You kept your head down and walked quickly, heels clicking obnoxiously on the tiled floor.

“Hey Y/N where are you going?” he slurred, pausing the tv and leaning over the back of the couch to watch you as you hurried past.

“On a date, Mr Stark,” you explained stopping in your tracks but not turning around to face him.

“Oh,” he sighed turning back around and flicking the tv on again. You took a deep breath and continued through the compound out to the driveway where the uber was waiting, ready to take you to Martin.

The driver pulled up outside the restaurant, you thanked him and emerged into the chill of the evening air. You were a few minutes early so you decided to wait inside where it was warmer.

“Table for one?” the waiter asked once you entered the restaurant.

“Two actually,” you corrected him, “my date is coming later.” The waiter nodded, picked up 2 menus and gestured for you to follow him. He seated you at a cosy window booth, overlooking a grassy park filled with people enjoying the evening. He poured you a glass of water and silently returned to his post at the door. You checked your phone quickly for the time, it was 6:00 so Martin should be arriving soon.

Ten minutes passed, then 15 which quickly turned to 20 and there was no sign of Martin. He hadn’t even messaged you to say he was going to be late. Frustrated and annoyed you waved the waiter over and got some more breadsticks and a bottle of red wine. You poured yourself a glass and waited some more. An hour ticked past and still no Martin. You had finished the wine and had eaten enough breadsticks to feed a small army. You were upset and mad all at the same time, a tsunami of emotions wreaking havoc on your brain. You decided that it was time to leave, you paid for your meal and tipped the waiter handsomely for fetching you so many breadsticks. It wasn’t long before your uber arrived and you were en route back to the compound.

With your heels in your hand, you stumbled through the compound towards your room. Everything was quiet and dark, you walked with your arms out, feeling around like you were blindfolded and trying to find the piñata at a birthday party. Your arms connected with something hard just moments before you kicked your toe into it.

“Fucking shit,” you swore hopping around on your uninjured foot.

“Y/N?” someone whispered causing you to drop your shoes to the floor with a loud crash. “Friday turn on the lights please.” The lights burst to life, you had to shield your eyes from the sudden intrusion. When your eyes had adjusted you looked around to get your bearings. You had walked into the wall right next to the doorway that you were looking for which lead to your room. The voice you had heard was Tony’s, he was in the same position as you had left him only this time the Jack Daniels bottle was empty and he was surrounded by empty food wrappers.

“What’s up darlin’, you look like crap,” Tony garbled looking you up and down.

“Yeah well I feel like crap too,” you sniffed wiping away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Don’t cry sweetheart it can’t be that bad. What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” you choked out, a fresh wave of sadness hitting you like a brick wall. You walked over and slumped onto the couch, tears streaming down your face.

“Want to talk about it?” he whispered moving closer to you.

“Well, that makes a change,” you scoffed moving back so that there was distance between you once again.

“What do you mean?” he asked, taken aback by your tone.

"You’re part of the problem. I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never look in my direction. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and I know it. Christ, I even went on a stupid tinder date to try and get you off of my mind only for it to bite me in the ass. I’m sick and tired of being so hopelessly in love with you,” you gasped having realised what you just said, “I’m sorry,” you sobbed into your hands, wishing that your tears could wash away all of the pain you felt inside. You felt a gentle hand brush along your shoulder.

“Hey Y/N, it’s ok,” Tony reassured you, “because I feel the exact same way. I’m an idiot, after you helped me in the lab I freaked out. I’ve lost so many people who’ve cared about me and I couldn’t stand losing you. I thought that the only way to keep you safe was to push you away but clearly that hasn’t helped either you or I. Please forgive me.” You looked into Tony’s eyes, searching for some kind of hint that he was joking, that it was all an elaborate prank but all you found there was the love and admiration that he felt for you.

“God we’re stupid,” you laughed softly as Tony wiped a few stray tears from your cheeks.

“What a pair we are,” he laughed tears of his own pooling in his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face in his calloused hand. His eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips and back up again as he slowly brought your faces closer together. Your eyes fluttered shut when he finally pressed his lips to yours. Time seemed to slow as you kissed, a single moment of passion stretched out to infinity. You wound your hands into Tony’s hair, pulling him in closer. You gasped as he nipped at your bottom lip allowing him to sweep his tongue into your mouth. He tasted of whisky and smelt like home, he was everything you had imagined and more. You pulled back and rested your forehead against his, needing a chance to catch your breath. You had not just broken your promise of not falling for the playboy’s charm, you had completely and utterly destroyed it, like a tree in a wood chopper there was no going back. Not that you would want to anyway.

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