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the-crows-typist · 3 years

Note

Since your latest post says you’re back, I’d like to request a ficlet with Azul x F!mc with the random word as curious. I’m so glad to hear you’re back as I really enjoy your writings, thank you 😊!

Thanks a lot Anon, I hope you like this piece of mine.

CW: Minor mention of bullying, Angst with a Happy Ending, minor mention of wound, wound healing and potential OOC

Word count: 3,435

The Possibilities are Endless

“I made a promise to you.”

Curiosity. Inquisitive, wondering, ready to poke around and figure something out. Around him, all he ever saw the deep blue, the seagrass, the fish he could easily catch with one of his tentacles. Octopi like his were curious by nature and often to a slightly violent extent. He would peak his head over the surface, watching the seagulls cry overhead and the humans walking over planks of wood. In the disguise of the night, the young boy could always watch humans at their most natural and most vulnerable and wonder to himself what life would be like had he been born a human.

He doubted it would be any different from the life he lived day today.

As fun as learning was, it was boring not being able to share it with those who cared. Time with his classmates was bad during classes and all the more during recess but during the times Azul could escape their grasp quick enough, he would swim to lonely areas around the school to read and write his learnings in discarded shells, flipping through page after page of borrowed books from the library learning and taking in the information written on paper.

His hand halted on a picture of children playing; the light brown color of dirt, the bright colors of shirts and dress, the happy yet dirtied faces of the youth who continued to pass the ball to one another. The young octopus' shoulders hung low, his eyes training down and at nothing. Would his life be that different had he been born human? Would he be able to play with the other children had he been given two legs instead of eight?

There was a sniffle and Azul's rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly. Suddenly something hit his head, something like and equally small. A red sandal floated down to his lap, a kid's shoe. From above, a shadow loomed over him, and on instinct, he gathered his things and rushed to the nearest hiding place. There was the smell of blood in the water, the boy taking courage to peek from the safety of his hiding place.

A girl whose hair flowed in the water like a ribbon speared a fish right through, her mouth covered with a breathing apparatus, eyes protected with goggles, and a red sandal missing from her left foot. Azul looked at the Sandal at his hand then to the girl who expertly drove her spear into another fish. He had never seen a human this up close before and with that spear, he could easily get hurt…Looking at her again, she reached down, patting her empty foot while bubbles released from her breathing gear.

The boy moved slowly and glided through the water while leaving all but the sandal behind. He stopped in his tracks when she turned around, her eyes shined brilliantly behind the foggy looking goggles and immediately trained to the sandal in his hands.

"Y-yours…?"

He offered the sandal to her, both hands holding it up. She nods her head, taking the shoe from him and slipping it back on. Her hand moved, palm motioning him to follow and finger pointing up. Come with me. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that she came to the sea to hunt and with a spear full of nearly dying fish didn't help her image any better. He pointed at the spear to his chest, finger pushing to the skin and she shook her head. At that moment, she took his wrist and swam up with a swarm of warm bubbles floating around them. Azul wondered if following this human girl to the surface was a good idea if leaving the school so suddenly was all right but seeing her hold him without disgust…

It struck a chord with him.

She gasped when they broke the surface, the sun beating down on them from high above. It was the middle of the day, a time when sailors slept and the water becomes calm. Next to them was a small boat where the girl threw her spear in along with her gear. Without the goggles, he could see her clearly, she had eyes like molten gold and hair stringy like seagrass. "I'm sorry I had to bring you up here with me. My oxygen was running out and I couldn't hear you."

"It's okay." He said softly, his eyes lingering to the boat then to her. "Um…Did you come here to look for fish?"

"Yup. Fish are easier to catch than chickens or boar." She laughed, her teeth shiny and smile wide, it was cute and Azul couldn't help but sink into the water to hide his blush. "But it kinda does suck when they're really small, though. I wish I could capture bigger fish so I can have a feast but usually, adults have to do it or I get pulled in trying to catch it."

"Like groupers?" He asked. "The big kind?"

"Yeah! Those are really big and taste good too. A light grilling and some salt really go a long way." Azul looked down at the water again as the human moved to chuck her shoes into the small boat. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Azul."

"Like the color blue?"

"Huh?" The girl looked to the side and Azul's heart sped up, thinking he said something wrong. "I saw this book once that your name means blue. I was just wondering if that's the reason why you have that name. Your eyes are pretty blue, too."

"I can ask my parents later…"

Their brief meeting was cut short when a voice from afar yelled, the girl quickly getting onto the boat as it waddled in the water. "I'll wait for your answer tomorrow. Can I see you here again?" She asked, her wet face smiling down at him and he nodded. "Great! Bye, Azul!" With a snap of her fingers, the small anchor pulled up and the boat sped away with a torrent of water. The two of them waving goodbye as the distance between them grew and grew.

"Tomorrow…"

When he got back to the classroom, the teacher scolded him for being late and the usual pattern of torment began again but somehow the promise he made with the girl with the golden eyes made him push through. He didn't sleep easy that night, especially with the excitement he held in his heart. He couldn't wait for tomorrow. He couldn't wait to see her.

Their new meeting place was along the rocky cavern where she could sit and on her lap was a book propped up for him to see. Her finger pointed at a word. "See? Azul. It means blue in different languages." Azul leaned against the rocks' the push and pull of the water against his dark skin. "It's a possibility. I never really thought about it that way."

It was his turn to show her something, a shell with scribbles of writings. They figured early that books from underwater were not easy to bring on land so Azul immediately switched to the gathered shells he had. "I like to read grimoires sometimes and I put anything I find interesting into a shell. Any spell I like is in there."

Taking the shell from his palm, the girl took a look at it and reading its inscriptions. "This spell…"

Azul nodded his head. "It's a spell to change the color of something. It can be anything too."

"Can I try it out?"

"Can you do magic?"

"A little bit."

"Do it."

Taking a small rock into her hand, the girl looked to the shell to recite the color-changing spell. "Like a rainbow in your palm and voice ever calm, may the item you wish to change be yours to arrange." The rock began to glow, reflecting a myriad of colors like glass under the summer sun. Its shine subsided, the stone suddenly a deep blue. She held it up, staring into it. "Wow…"

"Pretty neat, huh?" Azul smiled up at her when she nodded. "This is super cool! What else do you know, I want to show this to my family later." It was shell after shell of small spells that almost lit up the cavern they stayed in and soon, the floor was littered with shining rocks and off-color stones. The girl sighed, trying to regain her breathing while Azul collected the shells to his chest. "You shouldn't use your magic all willy nilly, you might overblot."

"That's okay. I'm strong, I can't overblot!"

Azul's grimace and amusement weren't hidden and the two laughed with each other, their soft voices echoing through the empty cavern.

"Will I see you here again, Azul?"

There was a silence between them, a beat of hesitation, but Azul leaned against the soft rock with a smile. "If only you bring another book with you."

The next day, she was late to the meeting but Azul paid no mind to it. In her hands was a big book about mountains and their animals and on her knee was a scratch. "Are you okay?" he asked, pointing his nubby finger at her wound to which he just shook her head. "The kids I play with can be rowdy at times but I didn't want to play with them anymore after that." She set the book down and opened it.

He looked at her eyes, those pretty gold eyes of hers, and his shoulders hunched a small bit. He knows those eyes. When they droop and look at nothing when the brows are low and furrowed.

"Hold still."

With a careful hand and concentrated magic, Azul continued to look at her knee as he let magic flow from within him to her knee. The skin began to close and the pain had subsided, her eyes widened while his closed.

"Azul?"

He opened his eyes, a hand had stroked his drying hair. He pushed himself too much, it seems, and his friend took to letting him rest against the rocks. Her smile was soft and her eyes no longer looking like they were before, the eyes were warm and the brows relaxed. The wound on her knee was smaller now.

"Thanks." She told him, bringing her legs to her chest. "Here. I'll tell you about elephants."

He leaned in further, careful not to wet the book. "Huh, they're different from the ones we have in the sea."

"Sea elephants, right?"

"Yup. They're all blubbery and have really large noses. We don't usually see them around here but I heard they can get pretty mean." He looks down at the rock in thought. "But they are pretty big like land elephants." The girl closes the book with a huff. "I'll take your word for it. Now, show me what you've got."

Smiling, he set a few shells down.

"Here's the spell I saw today—."

Azul rested on the rocks, his hand tracing the markings on the shells he brought. The cavern was empty and silent, his mind whirling to the girl he was supposed to meet in that same spot. He turned the shell over and traced his finger on the grove patterns.

"Azul, sorry I'm late."

She came in, drenched in water. "What happened?" He asked suddenly and she just smiled at him, a smile he didn't exactly trust was telling the truth. "I just thought to take a shower on the way here, that's all." His eyes followed her as she sat down with a book on her lap. "Was it the kids again?"

Her shoulders slumped and her lips were pursed. "I…They get rowdy. I thought I could outrun them." She took a look at her drenched form with an awkward laugh. "But at least the book is safe. It's about plants this time." Azul continued to stare at them, blinking and nudging the shells forward. "You protected the book from them, didn't you?"

"I did." With a watery smile, she nodded her head and brows furrowed. "…I did."

She clutched the book closer to her chest and Azul reached over to pat her good knee. "Azul, you'll always be here, right? You're never going to stop being my friend, right?" Golden eyes mixed with clear glass, her voice sounded so desperate and broken that Azul couldn't help but feel the sadness drip from her lips. He squeezed her knee just a little bit.

"I will. I promise."

The next time they met, they were on the small boat they met in with Azul holding onto its bamboo fixtures. "What's life like in the sea?" She asked suddenly, her feet paddling against the water. "It's mostly wet and there's a lot of fish around…" Azul began, his eyes downcast at the water below. "School is like a record and people can be mean sometimes, you have to look out for sharks of giant squids, and the currents are sometimes a butt to deal with."

Her golden eyes flickered for a moment and she chuckled, eyes closed, smile light, and brows furrowed. "Not much different from life on land, huh? But having pretty fins or tentacles seems fun too." She looks to Azul and for a second she hesitates.

"Can you turn me into one?"

He is silent for a moment, surprised and confused why someone on land would want that. "Um…" He stuttered, his face flushed and eyes downcast. "I don't think…My magic can do that, yet." Her golden eyes remained warm and she shook her head. "I'm just kidding."

Yet Azul had a feeling she wasn't.

"Is it because of the kids?" He asked curiously but she stayed silent, opting not to answer and instead asked a question in return.

"You'll always be my friend, right?"

He nodded his head without a second thought but was confused why she would think to ask that.

"I…I will. Of course, I will."

She rubbed her knee, feeling for the closed wound and sniffling after being exposed to the cold water of yesterday.

He waited in the cavern the entire day, waiting for her to show up. His shells were prepared but with no one to look at them. He should have known this would happen, he should have known it was too good to be true. He sulked against the smooth rock and felt the washed brush and leave his back. She never came.

Had he done something wrong? She would have told him.

Perhaps she got bored of him…The spells he showed were the most basic as they come, it wasn't enough. Azul pulled away from the rocks and looked deeper into the empty cavern. Something cold froze his insides yet licked his body like fire, he felt his eyes sting.

He should have known better.

He left the shells on the edge and went back to sea, never looking back from the place he once held hope in. He forced himself not to cry. He forced himself not to feel sad and only let his feels show when he found himself in his special spot.

He covered his face, remembering their chance meeting, her red sandal, and golden eyes. He remembered her smile, the promise they made. Azul shook his head, telling himself to forget. Forget. FORGET!

Suddenly, a piece of seaweed hit his head and the voice of two boys whispered above him. "I told you that wasn't a trashcan, Floyd." One chided. "What, I'm just gonna throw wherever this and get in trouble? C'mon Jade." He swats the piece of seaweed out of the pot and popped his head out. "Do you mind?"

"Ack!"

Two eels floated before him and one's eyes were wide in surprise and the other the mix of amusement and a face that just oozes of 'I-told-you-so' energy.

"I'm not a trash can, I'm your classmate."

"Huh? Oh wait, you're the one we have science class with." The culprit said, pointing a sharp finger at him. "What's your name again?"

"Azul. Azul Ashengrotto."

"Okay, Octie."

"It's Azul!"

His life turned around when he met the twins, the power that he grew was immense. While Azul was not good at sports as much as the twins; he excelled in books, in his studies, in business. His power allowed him to grant favors, to hold power over those once thought to be strong. For once in his life, no one thought to ever look at him as the stupid, lonely octopus he was once was nor did anyone think to lay a hand on him.

And things were fine that way.

But more often than not, he would catch himself thinking about the girl he once became friends with and wondering what she was doing or if that wound on her knee was doing okay. Even after the sudden departure, their brief friendship never left his mind nor did the memories lose their sweetness. His feelings were a mix of resentment, curiosity, or sadness, and even guilt.

He would look up from the seafloor to the shining surface above and wonder if she would be there waiting.

"Azul, there's someone who wants to see you." Says Jade.

But the business was always his priority. He turned away from the surface but his heart never could. "Coming." He swam away but his feelings stayed in one place, yearning and hating for the day he'll come to see her.

Though time heals wounds, the bitter sting of remembrance was something he disliked immensely. Azul's trips to the sea were less frequent and when he did, it was usually to visit his family and help around. With school done for the year and the family business running smoothly, there wasn't much he could do now but bide away his time.

He swam through the open ocean, his legs propelling him around the deep blue. He would resurface no long after to look at the sun and the water around him, his eyes adjusting to the sudden appearance of light after he had been in the dark blue depths long. It was noon, a time when fishermen slept and left the waters quiet.

He swam in a certain direction, to a place he once knew. A cavern-like entrance where he pulled himself up and bare feet touching the ground. For the short time he had spent there, he had memorized every crevice and detail.

"It's like it never changed."

He walked further in and looked in the deepest nook, he saw a tinge of color. Old shells packed into a neat pile, his old shells that he gave away to his friend. Looking back on it, he realized the two of them went through the same thing and wishing the same wishes. She was just more vocal about them.

He picked one up from the pile, it was the spell that allowed an object to change its color.

"Ah, this one takes me back."

Even how short their friendship was, he had fun just talking to her. While it was sad he never got to see her again after that day, he enjoyed it while it lasted. He returned the shell to its pile and moved to turn around, a figure stopped blocked his path.

Red sandals, eyes like melting gold, hair stringy from seawater, and a spear with two fish held to their side.

"Azul?" Her voice was just as he remembered.

The moment was short and Azul's breathing stopped for only a few seconds. A warmth passed through him, a wave of nostalgia. "You're back." He said, his shoulders bobbing through his airy laughs "I waited for a long time, y'know? Now look at us, we're bigger now." She discarded her spear to the ground and ran towards him, one of her sandals leaving her food as he hugged him.

No words were said between them, their arms looping around each other in an embrace both seemed to be ready and yearning for. Her nose buried into his shoulder and his hands in her wet hair. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "I'm so sorry I left. I just couldn't—I had to leave. I wanted to go to you but—! She sputtered into your skin. "I had no time left to say goodbye. I'm sorry."

"I made a promise, didn't I?" He said, pulling away from her.

Their foreheads connected, ah, how long had it been since he felt so vulnerable? There were so many things he wanted to say and he knew she also felt the same. Perhaps another time the two of them could put two and two together.

"I'll always be here."

#works from the typewriter #twisted wonderland #twst #Azul Ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #Female reader

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

Earthbound 1/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Part 2 Part 3

……………………………………………………………………

Chapter 1: Scattered Amongst The Stars

Alfred is six. It was his birthday last Tuesday and he got to have a really big party and it was really really cool, but the coolest thing ever was that he got an e-tab from his Ma. Everyone at school already has an e-tab -as a July baby he's one of the youngest- so now he can finally join in with the special classes that they have and play all of those games at lunch time.

Alfred doesn't like feeling left out. It's not nice, Ma says, when you don't include people, so that means that the people who play games on their e-tabs when they know he doesn't have one are being mean on purpose and that really hurts. Except now, now he can join in and be their friend again and won't have to sit alone at his table when it's interactive e-tab time.

It's not real learning, Pa says. He didn't want Alfred to have one, says that it rots your brains and makes you lazy, and says that the e-tab time is just 'enrichment', it's not part of the curriculum because they're not learning anything, just downloading and watching stuff. Still, Ma must have talked him around because on Tuesday Alfred opened the box and there it was, all for him. There's some games on it, from Grandpa, and Ma had uploaded some of his favourite movies for him to watch as soon as he'd synced his mind up. Pa got there too, he must have done, because there's also some files on 'Earth History', 'The Fall', and one about extinct animals which Alfred really doesn't wanna read but Pa's been mentioning at least one of them every dinner since so he probably should.

He goes into school and begins to chatter happily to his friend Ben as soon as he sees him about 'Zip Blast', the current school-yard fad, and about how he can't wait to sync up and play because he'd been practising over the weekend and he thinks he's kinda good now.

Ben looks uncomfortable. 'Oh, I don't think we're playing that one any more.'

'Huh? But...' Alfred stops and looks at Ben in disbelief, 'but Friday you said it was the best ever!'

'Well it was,' Ben concedes, reluctantly, 'but now there's the new 'Rock-ite' out so we played that over the weekend.'

Alfred's heart sinks. 'We?'

His friend has the grace to look as apologetic as a six year old can look about these matters but nothing more than that and at recess Alfred is alone once more. He tells himself it's okay, he doesn't care anyway but it's a half-hearted lie at best and he doesn't try to kid himself for too long. Instead, he decides he may as well sync up one of those stuffy files Pa put on the e-tab to pass the time and nibbles a cookie to keep himself entertained.

His teacher finds him gormless, ten minutes later. His eyes are glazed as he stares unblinkingly at the wall and his cookie, one chunk missing, lies forlorn on the table next to his slack left hand but his brain is more full and awake than it's ever been. Information about a long dead planet far far away pound and crash in his head and as soon as the data file has been properly synced he reaches out for his tab and loads up another.

At eight, Alfred has become that kid. No matter what conversation he gets into or who he talks to, if there is an opening or an opportunity he will bring up Earth and once that's accomplished he can go on and on for hours. He's downloaded every possible data file he can find about the entire subject: life before the Fall, the Fall itself, and the human race's desperate escape across the stars and for him it's still never enough. There's always another e-file to sync: about ancient nations, about old sciences and religions, about old wars and songs and dances and food; every second he can spare he gives over to tales of the past woven from the binary of today.

They are a scattered people, he likes to tell his listeners, there are hundreds of us, strewn across galaxies and planets and ships and no one knows how many of us there are any more because the Fall ripped apart alliances and histories so we don't even know who else is out there to find. Everything was lost, everything; the history, the stories, the places, the-

At this point, someone usually either changes the topic of conversation or he realises that they've walked away and left him babbling to himself, his eyes shut as he imagines the flight to freedom that happened too long before he was born. Adults are usually nicer and listen for longer, but they don't mean it either and by pretending to be interested in what he has to say they only serve to hurt him more.

He just can't understand, why does no one else find this interesting? Why does no one else dream of where they as a species came from and long to see it for themselves? Alfred would do anything to feel the wind on his face, to have breeze in his hair and the sun touch his skin because although he could play in a holo-room or go on a special holo-holiday it's not real and Alfred longs to just feel it. The sun on his planet is strong but the dense material of the domes blocks it from actually reaching him; he can't feel the warmth. At school he's learnt that it's too hot out there anyway and he'd die, but according to his data files the sun should be warm and gentle and fill up summer days and spring afternoons, so he can't quite feel the danger as much as he probably should. There's no air outside the domes either and what's the point of feeling the sun without a breeze, so he's not as sad as he could have been. It wouldn't ever compare to mankind's old sun, the sun in the stories he's growing up on.

He sometimes spends his recess and lunch at school rushing about as fast as his legs can carry him. Trying to get his own wind in such space is hard, but not impossible and if he focuses hard enough on his self-made breeze he can imagine that he's running over rocks and cliffs and weaving in and out of long gone animals that only the sky can remember. If this doesn't work, he syncs with his e-files to learn about something else, he's started to get into the people recently and likes the stories about normal stuff the most. Food, clothes, toys. Relatable things that he can see in his own home and use to imagine that he's been transported back through time and space.

There are often pictures of houses and Alfred marvels as how big they are and how much stuff those people must have had, collected form all the many places they must have seen. You can't get wood any more, but maybe if he asks Pa nicely he can get him some of that building material they use for making the new domes and he can practise making his own, just to see if he can.

He spends his weekends tinkering in his room with old bits of plastic, metal and cables and every now and again he plugs in a new circuit board to the plug sockets in his room and sees if he can make the lights turn on or off from somewhere else. Last weekend he built a fan and managed to make it blow. He can sync up a sound file from Earth and imagine that he's in a town somewhere way back when and there's a breeze on his face and there's someone who wants to talk to him.

Alfred is fifteen and is the best engineer in his school. He specialised early -he'd always had a knack for building things and he's good with numbers- and now this is what he's known for. Alfred can look at a electrical hub or a circuit board and immediately he can see either what's wrong or how to improve it and this makes him valuable. He's been building and fiddling with this sort of stuff in his room for ages but now it's finally cool, people actually want him to do that now. He sees it as a lucky thing, that he was bullied so much for it previously, because now he can see how much bullshit people like to throw when they want you to do something, how much an opinion of someone can change depending on their age and talent. Too good too young: weird and a nerd, you're wasting your time. Then you hit the right age and suddenly you're very experimental, very mature, it's good to know what you want in life. But ah, still young enough not to know your worth, you'll fix this for me for free, yes? If he wasn't as good as he is, he thinks, how valuable would they think I am? The answer scares him because he knows what it is and knows how thin the line he treads is; there are others like him, don't forget.

What even is he, without the skills of his hands?

He is seventeen. Alfred hates it, but Ma could use the help and Pa's not getting any younger, so he accepted an offer not too long ago for a entry level job in the government engineering department. It is an amazing offer for someone so young and fresh out of school, he knows that, but as much as he enjoys what he does the days wear him out and he spends less time listening to his e-files and more time building the dreams of others far more affluent than he.

He thinks he's doing okay for a while. The days whittle by easily and he starts to build up a nice savings pile that he uses to help out his parents every now and again. But he's nothing special. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of kids just like him on this planet who have been fed on a diet of strict, specialised schooling meant to produce only the best and Alfred knows that the only thing which sets him apart from the many many many others is his ability to just keep going. There is no safety in what he does at his age, no net to catch him if he slips up, so he begins to take on private jobs at the weekend to build up his CV further and get his name out there, making the chance of falling just that bit smaller. Before he realises it it's been a month since he last had the time set aside to listen to an e-file and that hits him, hard. He'd never had to set aside time before. Hell, he can't remember when he'd last done anything other than go to work, come home to sleep, and repeat.

He's struck by the monotony of it all. He can't see a difference between his life and that of his dad's, or his dad's friends, or anyone he knows, for that matter. Is this all there is? Is this all anyone does? When is there ever a break? Then, he gets it. There won't be a break. As soon as you can't keep up in this crazy race he's in, you're worthless. He's kind of been kidding himself, almost, that there'd be an end to it all, like a video game where you complete the level and then suddenly it's free play. You work hard to get a reward of, of something, or at least you can stop worrying and panicking about being left behind. There is no free play, he realises, it just keeps on going until you can't play any more because life has ground out your energy and sucked the vitality from your bones.

He goes running; pounding his feet on the treadmill he sucks in the humid air around him and imagines than he's running through an old Earthen jungle, dodging trees and leaping over crags in the forest floor. But there's no wind, and Earth refuses to come alive.

Alfred is eighteen. A message came through from Earth, old true Earth, that a new colony there is doing well and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since, thinking and dreaming about what he'd do if he ever went there, if he ever set up his life there instead of here. He could...no. There is no safety in history, he knows. There is no definite chance that anyone would want him to do that. Besides, there's no potential for definite growth, no stable career plan because you can't guarantee a career on digging up the scanty past of a long dead planet. But no matter how big of a safety net he could make for himself in engineering he feels no passion about any of it and the idea of spending his days encapsulated in this metal world of domes and tunnels makes him feel cold.

There's something that calls him in his dreams and whispers over the wind in his mind and this builds and builds in his feet until he can't keep them still any longer. One more look out of the window and up at the stars and he's gonna blow, he needs to get out and go go go because if he doesn't then he's gonna sink in this place.

Before he can stop himself he's bought a ticket and finds himself packing hurriedly late at night when his parents are asleep, stuffing clothes into the only bag he only which is far too small for this sort of thing but who the fuck travels anywhere these days? He hasn't got time to be better at this so he crouches under his bed and reaches in, all the way back until his hand scrapes the wall and he finds his old fan that he built when he was eight. He puts it on his bed, places his e-tab next to it with a message of what he's done and that's that.

He slips out without waking his parents, because saying goodbye would only be too hard and he knows that he'd end up changing his mind if they spoke even one word to him, so he says his farewells in silence and disappears.

................................................................................................................................

Peter is five and he sits upon his mother's knee, playing with the buttons on her shirt. She's with other adults and they're all talking about something that he doesn't really understand but they all sound sad and the air feels heavy so he keeps quiet like a good boy should and thinks about other things to keep himself busy. He thinks about the e-book his nanny got him last Christmas, the one with the pretty pictures, and thinks that it would be nice to live inside that book, with the greens of grass that he's never touched before. He wonders if grass is hard or soft and he spends so long thinking of this that that night, when he is sleeping, he dreams that he is running on grass and it is prickly, tickling his feet.

There is a voice in the dream, singing him the story but it is not Nanny's voice, nor Mummy's or Daddy's, but another man's and the lilt of his voice sings a language Peter doesn't know but it is a good voice for story telling and so the dream is vivid and touchable. He flies through the grass, feet pounding at earth instead of metal and the voice chuckles, deep and throaty. It makes him feel safe.

He wakes up because his Mummy is stroking his hair and forgets; school teaches him about how the air system in his dome works. Grass isn't as important as breathing.

He is eight and they are learning about the old Earthen languages. There used to be many, his teachers says, and each language held a culture, a history and a soul of a people and there used to be hundreds of them on Earth before it Fell. The teacher is old; his words are flat and there is no passion in his tone, but a thrill runs up Peter's arms as he imagines so much more. From the nothing he is given his brain decides to give those dead languages life and all of a sudden there are bursts of sound echoing inside his head. The teacher moves on, the class sits bored, but Peter can hear consonants clash against teeth and tongue and fricatives slip between breathy vowels. There are phonemes which glide between dipthongs and tripthongs to bound and fall out of the hundreds of mouths of hundreds of people; whispers of a past no one can hear tell stories long forgotten.

There is a clap very close to his head which scares all of the sounds away. His teacher looms over him, frowning in exasperation.

'Again, Peter?' he says, 'Stop daydreaming, boy. I asked you a question.'

'Er...' his classmates snicker and he feels his ears go red. 'I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't listening.'

'That much was obvious.'

Peter's cheeks burn hotter and he stares at his e-tab, focusing on the light of the screen to stop him from crying.

Before too long the lesson changes, then the day ends and he's allowed to go home. He walks alone through the corridors and exits the school dome, coming into the shuttle bus bay. He's a big boy now, he can take the shuttle bus all by himself and he has a special card to prove it. Weaving in and out of the other children, he hurries to where his bus is docked and scrambles inside to rush to his favourite seat, hopping up and placing his bag on the seat beside him. He likes to sit alone, because then he can stare out of the window and dream for as long as the journey will let him without worrying about talking to someone. Not that anyone wants to anyway, the other children say he's not got a brain because he would rather focus on the story in his head than on their silly games.

Nanny doesn't mind, she says it's good for people to dream and says that he goes off to somewhere called 'Neverland' whilst she pinches his cheeks and calls him her little Peter Pan. But when he gets home Nanny isn't there, Mummy and Daddy are and they're huddled in front of the large e-screen in the sitting room, faces pinched in worry.

He drops his bag by the kitchen table and goes to join them. There is a man on the screen speaking about their air ventilation system and a 'catastrophic degradation' and about some big numbers with a scientist nodding seriously to his left.

'What do we do now?' His mother's voice is hushed, fragile.

His father raises his eyes to her and shakes his head slowly. 'Debbie... you heard what he said. The planet's no longer viable.' His eyes flick towards Peter, suddenly aware that he's there too, and he smiles although it doesn't reach his eyes. 'Hey Pete. Do you mind doing your homework in your room today?'

Peter could ask why, but he sees that his Daddy doesn't want him to and Mummy looks like she's going to cry, so he glances once more at the screen and nods. He leaves them with the scary looking numbers and tips his books onto his bed. That night he dreams of waves crashing against his legs and he tastes the salt on his lip when he wakes.

At nine, there's some breaking news. Earth, of all things Earth, is habitable once more and it can't come at a better time. Peter sits on his favourite sofa at Nan's house, with his father having lunch, when the planet-wide intercom coughs its way to life and briefly deafens them all before the sound adjusts ever so slightly.

'ATTENTION ALL. PRIMARY SUPPORT SYSTEMS FOR THE SOUTH SIDE HAVE SUFFERED AN IRREPERABLE MALFUNCTION. BACKUP SYSTEMS WILL HOLD FOR APPROXIMATLY 3 HOURS AND 45 MINUTES. THIS IS NOT A DRILL; MAKE YOUR WAY TO YOUR EVACUATION POINTS.'

Then, it falls silent once more.

South side, that's them. Peter immediately feels as though he's going to be sick and by the look on his dad's face he's not alone. Once one half of the planet goes the other will surely follow. It's something they've all been expecting and planning for for years, but it's far, far too soon, they should have more time than this; they're not ready to go and the government's not even started the evacuation programme yet. His Nan shoots a look at his father from where she's sat in her armchair. It's a look Peter can't really read because there's something there that he subconsciously doesn't want to acknowledge.

'Earth?' Her voice is a thin whisper.

His father nods gravely. 'We got them Mum, the tickets came yesterday.' Peter's heart briefly lifts at the prospect, a longing that's deep and euphoric but then it crashes quickly. 'But...'

His Nan smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. 'I know.'

Slowly, with growing horror, Peter understands. 'Wait,' he whips his head back and forth between the two of them, 'Nanny, where-'

'Don't worry, Peter,' she gets up and goes to kneel in front of where he's frozen in his chair, hands digging nails into the old material, 'I'll get on one of the other evacuation ships.'

'But you're not-,' his eyes burn and his voice is breaking but he doesn't look away, 'but you're not with us, why aren't you coming with us.'

'Oh Peter, my little Peter Pan,' she hugs him tight, pulling him in to her chest and he grips his hands in her shirt and tries to take in as much of her as he can.

'Mum we- we have to go.' Dad doesn't sound much better and before Peter can register much his Dad is hugging his Nan with a funny tight look on his face, then he's being pulled by the arm and out of the door, stumbling over his feet as he tries to keep up.

A terse shuttle bus later they get home to his mother already throwing their things into cases and boxes, haphazardly grabbing at e-frames and e-tabs to squash them and their memories safe under piles of their clothes. Peter could help, should help, but all he can do it sit numbly on the floor and cry whilst his life is collected and contained into a few measly bags. The rest will be left.

It doesn't take too long, thankfully, as Peter doesn't know what's worse, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible or wanting to stay and cling to the remnants of the only life he's ever known. As they make their way to the loading bays for the Earth-bound travellers he blearily finds himself thinking about what classes he'll miss in school tomorrow, but then he remembers Nanny and the ordeal starts anew as reality sets back in.

His parents are focused on more practical things.

They stand in line, their few pieces on luggage already being loaded on, and wait to board the ship they were assigned to only yesterday. His mother speaks under her breath, as if she is afraid to talk too loudly for fear of jinxing something. 'The Earth ships aren't even ready. They won't have enough food let alone rooms.'

His father shakes his head and slips his hand down to intertwine with hers. 'They must have known something like this could happen at any time, they've been predicting it for years. If anything, the rooms may not be ready but the agricultural sections will be.' He looks determinedly at the back of the head of the man in front of them and swallows. 'They only give out tickets if there's room. We'll be fine.'

Peter's mother glances his way meaningfully, and then back to his father.

'Jo, there're not enough ships; no one was ready in time. They can't have planned for everyone.' She bites the inside of her cheek, one hand on Peter's shoulder. Her fingers dig in, hard, but he doesn't try to shrug her off. He can barely feel it.

His father understands. 'She'll call us when she can.' Then, the line moves and they lurch forward together, huddled close.

Just before the door, where the tickets are being checked and where the din of the engines roaring into life starts to become uncomfortable, his father takes one last desperate look at out of the window at the distant domes of their colony, nestled in the dust. He taps an impatient rhythm against the tiled floor. 'She'll call.'

She never does.

................................................................................................................................

Francis is three and his daddy has just left Mummy.

'He went to fight,' she says as she strokes his hair. This confuses him because fighting is bad and you're only allowed to fight if someone tries to fight you first and no one has been nasty to Daddy that he's seen.

Mummy doesn't answer but continues to stroke his hair, humming softly a tune she sings to him every night before bed that sounds old and sad and sleepy, so he just nods and rests his head heavily against her chest.

He doesn't see his Daddy again.

He is ten when he realises that there never was any war. The notion strikes him dumb one day in the kitchen as he distantly listens to the news playing through the announcer when he helps wash up after dinner. The announcer is speaking about something banal, a fashion show maybe, but Francis is staring out of the window and up at the sky, up at the stars that push through the daytime's thin atmosphere. He doesn't know what caused him to start this train of thought, but once it's started his brain quickly pieces together the puzzle that it has ignored all of this time.

At school they were taught about wars, about age old battles with guns and swords and metal where blood was spilt over land and the wealth it contained. But, there hasn't been any fighting here. He scrubs a glass, sponge squeaking against the side. And even if there was fighting somewhere far away, his dad would surely still be able to write or visit, or come back after all this time. And more importantly, if there was a war going on now then surely he would have learnt about it at school, rather than learning about age old political struggles on the human-ruined home world.

His mother takes the glass from his slack grip. 'Daydreaming?'

He shakes himself to and looks at her. Turned away and out of the window her face is suddenly older and oddly clearer than he remembers it being, she looks like a person rather than just his mother and that's a scary thought. It's as though the wash of childhood has momentarily slipped away and he's now aware of both it and the harsh brushstrokes of reality. She's a person and feels things, just like he does. So it hurts, that she lied, and it will hurt him for a long time because he doesn't know why but cannot for the life of him bring himself to ask her. Francis is good at reading people and he knows that this isn't something he should ask about, so turns back to the dirty dishes and doesn't.

When Francis is fifteen there is a war, of sorts. The planet nearest to them, the one they rely on the most for trade, switches governmental policies and refuses to continue their current agreements. This results in a breakdown of communication and heightened tension between the two colonies, each bristling angrily at the offence yet unwilling to be the first to initiate anything rash. There is minor rationing imposed upon Francis' planet until trade is re-established as well as a draft of specialisation training implemented, just in case. He's unaffected by the rationing; the draft is a different story. Just in case this trade block becomes permanent, his planet needs to be prepared to become fully self sufficient in everything from science, to food, to art, to the army.

The block stays in place and tensions rise. Against his wishes, Francis is assigned a scientific draft. He is now seventeen and knows he needs to be given something but he'd prefer agriculture or education to research, if he could have the choice, or the arts if he's allowed to dream. He isn't. He brain is good, his grades are high and thus he is far more useful to the cause working on the advancement of his planet than working to help feed it.

A few days after his birthday and a month after his posting letter arrives, his mother rides with him on a shuttle to his boarding station. He will try out four different areas: mechanics, medicine, biology, and physics, then he will be assigned to what he works with best, where he can produce the best work possible. But Francis can't think of anything worse than being stuck in a lab all day, shutters drawn and devoid of all personality. Even worse, he's heard the rumours that have managed to float back from those who have graduated and knows that once he boards this ship there's no escaping the life he'll be moulded into. The programme is four years long and then he will be placed into a job where he will stay until he dies. At twenty one he will have no other skills for work other than what he will acquire at the science facility, there is no swapping careers afterwards. He wants to do so much, there is so much that he loves to do, and with each passing shuttle stop his heart grows more frantic, fighting his brain which has accepted the inevitable.

He gets physics. He calls his mother to howl down the phone once, just once, before he realises the futility of doing so; nothing can or will change. Accept it.

At twenty, a year before his training would end, there is finally a truce. Trade resumes and Francis finally tastes sugar after five years but now, after so long, the taste is too much. Not fully qualified yet too old to be automatically accepted into another programme, Francis is in limbo. There isn't much point in him continuing his training, there are more than enough specialists now and not enough jobs to give them, so there isn't anything for him to do. It's odd, now that there is nothing to work towards he feels empty but at the same time everything is just too much. He returns home and his mother fusses and tries to talk to him, tries to get him to come out of his room and sit with her and he did, at first, but the longer he's home the shorter his resistance is and the longer the 'breaks' are in his room.

Emotions seem to be harder to process without a goal, that or he never had many to begin with and without something to distract him from that notion he's finally noticing how few he has. Either way, other people are small insignificant creatures who worry about such useless, banal things. Who did what, with who and where. Did you know, her son the doctor? Well, he's a you know what now and- ugh. Francis can no longer take it.

He doesn't really see this as a problem. He feels as though he's risen above other people and finally understands that such things are not worth his time; why worry, after all, about what job to get. Why worry about whether or not someone likes you. Every day, regardless of what they do, the planet will spin and the domes will reflect the same bleak, churning sky and Francis realises that he's trapped here, by this life and that his life means nothing. None of their lives do, it's all the same; nowhere new to go, nothing new to do. Pick a job, do the job. Come home, go back. Retire. Die.

So he sits in his room, because if he talks to his mother or to anyone else he is reminded that somehow he's supposed to care about it, that life here is supposed to matter to him just as it matters to everyone else. His mother will mention this or that and he'll have to either fake the responses she wants, or not and upset her and neither option sounds pleasing to him.

After years of monotony and training suddenly he is permitted to express again and it's like he's forgotten how, the parts rusty after all the disuse. There are too many emotions and he finds himself forgetting to use them or using the wrong ones because he can't do them automatically any more, for some reason, and reactions that call for an understanding of nuance are just lost to him. Very quickly everything is too much. Food, heat, depth, people, concepts, everything.

He hides away but then they stop becoming too much and they shrink and shrivel up and become nothing at all he can feel how empty he is. Nothing can fill the void he's got because he doesn't even know why it's there and he can scarcely tell that there's a problem in the first place. He does knows he's got a problem though, really, knows how serious it is by the way his mother watches him with fearful eyes and baleful glances. She tiptoes tentatively around the house, carefully softening her words and her gentleness feels like a pressure cooker slowly but surely building something that's going to get bigger and hotter and harder to make go away. She avoids talking about it, about how Francis feels or doesn't, and by doing so the problem is allowed to grow, unchecked. Francis doesn't have to act any more, doesn't have to pretend, and so the feelings of apathy grow and grow until they swallow him whole and all he can bring himself to do is sit and stare and the sky, a dark choking yellow.

It feels heavy to look at, like a lid covering everything in his life, all potential, all future, all growth. It just festers and sinks lower and lower still and he sits and watches it for days before he's realised he's done so.

When Francis is twenty-two, his mother breaks. Not that she herself breaks, but her patience does.

'I can't do this any more.' she says. There are tears on her face and Francis watches one slide off and fall onto her collar. 'You need to go.'

Francis appraises her properly, meeting her eyes. She flinches at his gaze but remains resolute in her decision, though her bottom lip quivers. 'There's nothing for you here, we both know that. You don't want to be here, so you need to go.'

'I don't want to be anywhere.' he replies.

She gives him a watery smile. 'I know. That's why, you might as well see if you can want to be somewhere else.' She lifts up her arm and shows him her e-tab, the translucent screen showing a brightly coloured ticket. 'I've bought you a flight. It's Earth, it was declared habitable a few weeks ago.'

Francis knows he should feel something, this is one of those instances when he knows that he should be feeling something but he can't quite imagine what emotion he should give her.

She doesn't seem to expect one. 'It's one way. And this, this is all of my savings, Francis.' Her eyes are wide and her face is suddenly so very very old. 'If you don't want to be any more, at least make that decision once you've seen this. You can't go without seeing this, after all. See this, see it for me and then you can decide, okay?'

Suddenly she looks shocked and runs forward to embrace him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and knocking her e-tab into his face. The garish purple of the ticket burns his eyes. 'Oh Francis.' She sobs into his shoulder and clutches tightly into his shirt. 'Oh Francis it's okay, you can cry if you want to.'

Oh.

He's crying.

................................................................................................................................

Ludwig is six, and is sick again. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him; they know what's causing it at least but they have no idea why. He can't keep food down and every time he tries to stand the world pitches and swims and he can't keep his balance so he never manages to stay up for long before he bonelessly falls to the floor, where he feels no better.

It's the gravity, the doctors say, for some reason he's affected by the gravity. The artificial gravity that he's known all his life; it's as if he's just climbed aboard and his body suffers from relapses where it just can't acclimatise. Where it suddenly realises that something's not quite right and rebels against him for a week or so. This his family already knows, but his mother isn't satisfied with such a lacklustre answer so she takes him to a different doctor every time he suffers another attack just in case one of them is even marginally more competent than the last. These 'episodes', as his mother likes to call them, don't happen all that often, but he seems to have one every ten months or so and they are regular enough to annoy his mother to no end. Ludwig doesn't really know if she's annoyed that no one can fix him or with him himself, Gilbert won't say and normally his big brother talks to pretend that he knows something so his silence worries Ludwig the most.

Mother is a very important person with a very important job: she's a governor of the space station upon which they live and it is very important that Ludwig remembers this. So, when he's laying in bed clutching at his belly and desperately clenching his eyes shut to minimise the swaying, his friends at school think that he is away for a special training academy. Because can you just imagine, the governor of a space station's son being space sick?

His father doesn't like to call it that because he thinks it's degrading so his mother doesn't, when she thinks Ludwig can't hear, anyway, but Ludwig knows that's what the kids at school would say so he happily keeps mum because it's easier than lying. They don't talk to him much besides, they find him too cold and distant but that's because he's so scared of disgracing his mother further that he can't quite relax fully.

When Ludwig is thirteen his mother, after exhausting all doctors aboard their large floating colony, finally accepts that it's unlikely that this small problem of his is going to go away. Her way of dealing with it is to pretend that it just doesn't happen; during an attack Ludwig is sent to his room where he stays painfully alone with only his books for company whilst she busies herself with her new campaigns. She's running for director now, aiming as high as she can go and there's no room for weak, feeble Ludwig all the way up there.

His brother tries his best to keep him entertained and happy during these times, but Gilbert is healthy, strong, smart; he's everything that Ludwig should also be able to grow up to be and their parents have sent him off to expensive schools which means that he's more often away from home than not. Sometimes Ludwig wonders if they've sent him away because they want Gilbert to be the all around best he can be, or if it's to distance him as much as they can from Ludwig. It's almost as if they're worried that Ludwig will taint him, or that maybe Gilbert will grow too attached to him and distract himself from what's really important. That Ludwig will anchor him down.

At five years older it's highly unlikely that Ludwig will be the one doing the influencing, but his brother, despite hardly seeing each other and such a large age difference, does seem to genuinely care for him. During one particular attack, when Ludwig is eighteen, Gilbert is home from university; it is almost Christmas and his family are preparing to travel to where his grandparents live on the other side of the space station, where they'll spend the holiday. Of course, it is now that his body decides to betray him.

He, his parents, and his brother are gathered around the large dining room table finishing off dinner. It is tense. Mostly it is Gilbert who talks because despite their mother's cool demeanour and their father's lack of interest he seems to always have something to say to fill the silence and speaks easily. Even with the response he gets, or lack of it, he seems honestly unperturbed and remains cheerful, somehow managing to both eat and speak without seeming impolite. As much as he loves his brother, Ludwig is also supremely jealous.

He stares at his fork, contemplating which point in the evening would be best to ask if he could slip away, when his body decides for him. His stomach swoops, his ears pop and the table tilts alarmingly. He clenches the edge in panic to remain upright and the noise alerts his mother, who looks up from her dessert in irritation.

'Ludwig, we are going away tomorrow.'

'M- mother-'

His mother sighs and looks at his father, who sharply stares back. 'Dear?'

His father grunts and spears another forkful of fruit pie. 'They're expecting him to come.'

'But the photographers-'

'What do you want me to do, Hilda?'

Meanwhile, Ludwig has still not been dismissed and cannot now seem to find the words to ask for permission himself without spewing all over the fancy silverware. He doubts that that will make the situation better, somehow. Gilbert notices and stands, attracting his parents' attention.

'I'll take Luddy to his room.'

'Darling...' their mother tries to say something, but it's what she's trying not to say that comes across the loudest.

Gilbert ignores her and walks around the table, slowly helping Ludwig to his feet, then away from the table and swiftly towards a bathroom. They make it just in time. Gilbert pats him comfortingly on the back and rubs soothing circles into his shoulders until he's finished, then hands him a glass of water.

'So, they're still arseholes, huh?'

Ludwig snaps his head up in horror, but this is a bad idea because the image of Gilbert swims before him and he has to shut his eyes.

'Don't call them that.' He finally manages, weakly.

Gilbert tuts. 'What the fuck did they feed you with in order to churn your personality out.'

Ludwig lays his head on the cool tiles of the floor and groans inwardly at how nice the feeling is. 'They're not arseholes.'

'Yeah, and my name's Shirley.'

Ludwig cracks open an eye, but Gilbert's not joking. He is, for once, deadly serious. 'How'd you put up with them Lud?'

Ludwig shrugs and gives a small shake of his head. 'They're our parents, Gil. They still care for me. Besides, I'm not exactly making it easy for them.'

Gilbert looks disgusted. 'You're their fucking son, arsehole. They're supposed to take care of you. They ain't even doing that right are they?' Gilbert runs a hand through his shock of white hair and bits his bottom lip whilst he shakes his head. 'Look at how they treat you versus me.'

'Yes, but I'm not exactly-'

'But nothing!' Gilbert raises his voice slightly and swallows. When he speaks again, he's much quieter, back under control. 'Have they got you in a university programme yet?'

Ludwig's silence is answer enough and Gilbert sighs deeply before brushing back Ludwig's sweaty fringe. 'There's nothing wrong with you Lud.' His brother sounds so very sad. 'Fuck, there's nothing wrong with you at all. They know full well that if they put you on a planet rather than this floating heap of rust that you'll probably be alright. And have they? Have they fuck.'

Ludwig wants to argue against him, wants to say something to stand up for himself if not for their parents but his eyes are suddenly burning and his throat is choked up. He knew a long time ago that his parents had given up on him, but to hear it from someone else hurts more sharply than anything he tells himself.

There's an odd companionable silence for a while; Ludwig lays still with his face against the floor and his brother's hand carding through his hair so he almost misses what Gilbert says next.

'I was gonna wait till Boxing Day, but I've got us tickets for Earth.'

Ludwig tenses and holds his breath. Gilbert continues. 'I was gonna wake you up on the 26th and take you away with me, but I want to tell you now instead, cause you look like shit. We're gonna get out of here Luddy; I've always wanted to take you to a planet and what better one is there than the original, huh?'

'You, I- you can't- what about your studies? The internship you've got?' Ludwig manages to stammer out, opening his eyes.

Gilbert brushes his concerns aside. 'I never liked medicine, really. I've always wanted to go to a planet, so I'm mega up for it.'

Ludwig knows he should say no, knows that he shouldn't take up the offer. He'd be denying his brother so much, he'd be exactly what their parents worried he'd be because he'll only drag Gilbert down and down and down like a heavy lead weight and ruin all of his chances at a good life.

But Ludwig wants to be selfish. He reaches out and clasps onto Gilbert's hand, squeezing it tightly. 'Gil...'

Gilbert flashes him a grin and winks. 'I know, right? How awesome am I?'

#my writing #hetalia #aph #APH England #APH France #aph america #aph germany #aph prussia #aph sealand #aph canada #aph fruk #fruk #au #sci-fi #hws fruk #oh no what am i doing #something is cooking that's for sure

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t4tozier · 5 years

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Richie had a pet rock as a kid and he keeps it with him through his life

oh he absolutely did

he “got” it in kindergarten

all of the swings were taken during recess so he sat next to them and cried

but then he found a big gray rock—big for his tiny child hands—sitting on the ground and he was like “yep this is my new pet now”

and that was that

he brought it in with him and showed it to his teacher who was used to this kind of thing from him

he found a worm once and brought it to her as his new pet

he was very sad when she told him to put it back but he forgot about it five minutes later because then it was snack time and he had oreos

so he shows this teacher his new pet and she’s like yeah okay just go wash it off in the sink and then you can keep it

and later they get to do crafts and of course he decorates his rock

puts googly eyes of two different sizes on it and paints it randomly

on the bottom he puts the rock’s name—rokee, with a backwards k

(pronounced rocky)

so from then on richie and rokee are inseparable

he brings him everywhere

maggie and wentworth don’t mind because when they bring him somewhere he doesn’t want to be he’ll just plop down in the corner of the room and talk to rokee instead of running around touching everything and talking to strangers

well he still does sometimes but it happens a lot less frequently

his parents think he’ll give it up after a few weeks, tops

but he doesn’t let go of rokee ever

richie stops carrying him around all the time but he sits on his nightstand

rokee is his confidant—he talks to him all the time about whatever’s going on in his life

he tells him all about stanley when he meets him in second grade, the curly haired boy who acts like he doesn’t like his jokes but he knows he secretly does

“he says he’s a joo. i dunno what a joo is but he wears a cool hat so i like him a lot. also he’s funny he’s got real weird jokes but they’re sometimes even funnier than mine. don’t tell him i said that though.”

and bill and eddie, in fourth

“bill’s really cool, he’s tall and he’s got hair like fire and he’s always the line leader but it’s okay ‘cause he can lead the line really good. also he has a friend who’s really short and he’s not at school all the time ‘cause his ma says he’s sick a lot but he’s cute and funny and gets mad at my jokes but i think he likes them secretly too.”

and even when he gets into middle school and he starts thinking he’s too old for stuff like that, he doesn’t stop talking to rokee

he talks to him about his new friends ben and bev, and later mike

he’s glad he has such a strong, close-knit group of friends

he always feels supported by them but there are still things he doesn’t feel quite comfortable talking to them about

it’s comforting, in a way, to have someone that he could talk to without any fear of being judged

especially when he starts thinking about eddie in ways that he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to think about

he talks to rokee about it before anyone else

“he’s just...different, you know? i like hearing him get mad when i make jokes about his mom, and when he laughs? it’s the best sound in the whole world.”

the thoughts aren’t much more complex than that—he’s still too young to really understand it

but rokee helps him talk out his thoughts and feelings so he can understand them better

fast forward to high school

he still hasn’t told eddie how he feels

but he still talks to rokee

and he’s kind of over being embarrassed about it at this point, to be honest

eddie thinks it’s endearing that he still has a pet rock but he’ll never tell richie that

fast forward to senior year

they’re about to graduate

most of them are going their separate ways, but eddie and richie are both going to nyu and he couldn’t be more thrilled

he decides that he has to confess before they leave for no other reason than he’s waited long enough

so one day, a week before graduation, he has eddie over

his heart is pounding in his chest and his palms are sweaty

and he doesn’t know how to say it so he just lifts up rokee and puts him in front of his face

eddie’s so confused

richie moves rokee up and down like he’s talking

“richie’s told me a lot about you”

his voice is gravelly but somehow high-pitched

“what are you doing, dipshit?” eddie laughs, a little awkwardly, but he’s blushing

but richie continues, “he wants you to know that he likes you. a lot. and he has for a long time. and he needed to tell you before you go to college.”

richie laughs awkwardly then too, hitting the rock and holding it out like he’s talking to him

“rokee! you weren’t supposed to tell him that!”

but then he just turns to eddie and falls silent, waiting for him to respond

the silence grows until it’s uncomfortable, but finally eddie holds his hand out for rokee

richie hands it to him warily, having absolutely 0 clue what he’s planning to do

eddie holds rokee in front of his face and whispers, “eddie says he likes you too.”

and then rokee is set ever so gently back on richie’s nightstand table, and there’s another moment of silence before they’re kissing

when they go to college, they’re roommates. no question about it. and rokee sits on richie’s desk, still there if he ever needs to talk

and he still does

when they get into their first big fight and when they make up six hours later

all the parties, the stress of finals and not being able to see the rest of the losers except when they go back for winter and summer breaks

rokee comes back with him during the breaks too

when richie and eddie move into their first apartment together, rokee moves back to richie’s nightstand

at this point, his googly eyes are falling off and the paint is cracking

richie repaints the name on the bottom and reglues the eyes when he needs it

when they buy a house together after college, rokee’s there every step of the way

and when they adopt their daughters, richie passes rokee on to them

“this is a very special rock, okay? i’ve had him from the time i was your age. he’s heard all of pop’s stories. how he met daddy, and auntie bev, and all your uncles. all of the times he’s been in school and gotten into trouble for smoking pot—”

“richie!”

“sorry. but he is really special, that’s the bottom line. so you girls take care of him, okay?”

and they promise, and take rokee with gentle hands

and when richie passes their bedroom at night, sometimes he hears the girls talking to rokee

and then he gets in bed to be with his husband

and he’s never been more grateful that the swings were full that day

#thank you i liked writing this it was v cute #sorry if you didnt want it to take the reddie route but i stsrted writing and couldnt avoid it #also sorry this was massive #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stan uris #stanley uris #bill denbrough #reddie #bella writes

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purplesurveys · 5 years

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474

Tumblr makes the spacing kinda weird by the end, idk why but I hope it gets better for everyone else who wants to take this haha.

ONE - HI THERE! It’s an intro!

What do most people call you? Robyn. In what month is your birthday? April. What country were you born in? The beautiful but politically miserable Philippines. Do you have siblings? How many, if you do? I do; I have two. I’m the eldest, but they aren’t that far off from me. Who do you live with? I’m still studying so I’m living with family for now – mom and dad, a sister and a brother, and a dog. I really want to move out in the next couple of years though.

Are you in a relationship? Yes. Do you go to school? As I said, yes. I’m in university but I’m supposed to graduate next year. What mood are you in right now? Well, I wrapped up my internship last week and my entire weekend was booked with stuff I did, so now I’m just super glad to be home and bum around after all that hectic-ness. I just had 8 hours of sleep and am feeling pretty well-rested right now. What does your shirt look like? I’m wearing a big-ass gray Knicks sweater that’s like 3 sizes bigger for me. What’s your zodiac sign? Taurus.

TWO - Your Appearance

If you could have plastic surgery on any one body part, what would it be?Boobs. They’re so abnormally small that I’m tired of having to waste what would have been completely bomb outfits just because of my chest.

Are you satisfied with your hair? It could have less baby hair, honestly. But I’m fine with it for the most part.

Do you have a hitchhikers or a straight thumb? It’s a straight thumb. My left pinky is quite crooked though.

What colour are your eyes? Dark brown.

Do you have any tan lines? No, I haven’t gone to the beach in a while.

How old do people usually think you are? I just asked this question to Gabie last week and she said that I look 15.

What about your appearance do you get complimented on the most? Face and my overall figure.

Are you comfortable with your weight? Sure, but it’s always worrisome when I get to the lower 90s.

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Where? Yeah, just the basic earlobes piercings that my parents got for me when I was a couple of months old.

How tall are you? I am 5′1″ and a half. I’m shorter than 5′2″, that’s for sure.

THREE - True or False

I love winter. Neither true or false as I have never experienced snow. I think I’d love it though.

I have eaten meat in the past five days. True. Filipinos eat meat a lot.

I have painted a room in a house. False. My mom is so controlling over adult things like that so she hired people to do it to all our rooms.

I can whistle. True. I learned pretty early.

My keyboard is black. True-ish? The buttons are black, but the spaces between them are silver.

I have never bought something off an infomercial. True. My mom would be so furious because it would be her money anyway.

I own a snuggie / would like to own a snuggie. False.

I bite my pens / pencils. False. I do bite my straws though.

I wear glasses / contacts. True.

My nails are painted right now. False.

FOUR - Childhood Memories!

What was your all time favourite movie as a kid? THE GAME PLAN, without a shadow of a doubt. Watched that shit everyday through third and fourth grade. My runner-up would be High School Musical.

Do you still have your first pair of shoes somewhere? Doubt it. My mom isn’t big on memories like me.

Did you have anything you always dragged around the house, like a blanket?Nope. I did use my parents’ blanket as a cape some days, and other days it would be a gown train and I’d pretend I was the Queen, but I wouldn’t drag it because it would get dirty.

What toy did you play with the most? I was always into grownup stuff so I always got kitchen appliances, dollhouses, etc. I once had toys that mimicked a pizza restaurant and it had a pizza roller and it was super fun for me haha. Once I got a pretend cash register though it was game over for all these bitches.

Did you ever bring your favourite toys in the bathtub? We didn’t have a bathtub, but yeah we would bring in our toys when we would shower.

Did you used to take baths with siblings/cousins? ^ Ooh, barely missed it. Yes, we did.

Are you still friends with your best friends from long ago? A handful are still my best friends. I keep in touch with most of my batchmates from my high school because we’re all close and we’re family and there was generally very little drama – and if there was, it was easy to let go.

Do your parents ever tell you stories about how cute/silly you were? They have several stories, but I was mostly a quiet kid who didn’t like getting in trouble.

Did you go to the park often? What was a typical outfit for the 5-year-old you?Blouses with a girly pattern, denim jeans, and Nike rubber shoes. The top always has to be tucked in.

FIVE - FAVOURITES

Actor/Actress: Kate Winslet

Singer/Band/Both: Beyonce / Paramore

Chocolate: Reese’s

Toothpaste: ??? Whatever we have at home I guess?

Picture of yourself: Nah man, not doing that here.

Pair of sunglasses: I don’t have a favorite.

Vegetable: Broccoli!

Sandwich: Monte Cristo

Aspect of nature: Waterfalls

Word to say: “Literally”

SIX - Love Life ;)

Who was the first person to ever ask you out? No one’s ever asked me out before. Although I think that dude from one of my classes in sophomore year intended to…but I dunno. We were paired up together for this class and he wanted to spend time with me in a coffee shop after our work was done; I didn’t feel comfortable just being by myself so I told him in advance that I was gonna be bringing Gabie…never heard from him ever again :/

What does your ideal date consist of? Dinner somewhere nice (Italian or Japanese) should be enough for me.

What’s one thing your partner must be able to accept about you? I get sad and I’ll need loooooooong stretches of time alone some days.

Does your ideal person have any special talents? She can paint and draw. She doesn’t really share these with other people but she does with me.

Do your parents like the person you’re with? (Or the last person) My parents liked Mike and were convinced something was happening between us lmao. They don’t know about my relationship with Gabie yet.

Do you like pet names? Yes when it’s just the two of us. Publicly, I control myself, cos I know it annoys me when other people are too showy/vocal. Like I don’t call Gab pet names when we’re out with friends; and when we’re out at the mall or whatever, I’m not very physical other than holding her hand.

What is your age range? Same age. I can’t imagine dating someone younger or older, but then again this is because I haven’t had any other experience.

What is one attribute that your ideal partner must have? Sincerity.

When was the last time someone seriously said “I love you.” to you? This morning.

Have you ever been in more than one relationship at a time? No.

SEVEN - The wonderful world of the Internet!

What is your most used website? Probably Twitter. It’s the first thing I check everyday.

Do you play any online games? Other than playing on Y8 when I was younger, no.

Which chat program do you use most often? Messenger.

Facebook vs Myspace- which is better? I haven’t used Myspace in a hot minute, so I’ll go with Facebook.

Is there someone you met online that you’d like to meet in person? Yes, I’m still waiting to meet Aliyah. Girl is in BGC every single day but I can’t seem to grab lunch or dinner with her!

Have you ever sold something on Ebay or Craigslist? No.

Have you ever gone on Chatroulette? Or Omegle video? Yeah, when I was like 12 and curious about the Internet haha.

Are there any videos of yourself on Youtube? I don’t think so.

Mac or PC? Mac.

Have you ever Googled your name? I’ve Googled my username before, but not my name.

EIGHT - This or That?

Twilight or Harry Potter?

French fries or potato wedges?

Liquid ortape white out?

Digital or film camera?

Nail clippersor nail scissors?

Rock, paper, or scissors?

Beard or mustache?

Knee high or ankle socks?

Hockey or basketball?

Mr Clean or sponge and ‘the other leading cleaning product’?

NINE - Be cool, stay in school!

What subject are/were you best at? It’s always history, or social studies in general.

How old will you be when you graduate high school / how old were you? I was 18 when I graduated.

Isn’t there that point in the year when you stop caring so much? Yep, it’s usually when you’re a senior.

Do/did you have any really cool teachers? In UP? Absolutely. There’s a lot of shitty profs, but the cool ones are way too hardcore.

Who is/was your most strict teacher? Sir Ruel in my old school. Old man was and is such a fucking loser. Once had a comment about my breasts and I never forgot about it. Also kicked me and a bunch of other kids out of his class in fifth grade because we didn’t have crayons. He actually got booted by the school for a year because a parent complained about him, but he came back after.

Where do/did you sit at lunch? In high school, the cafeteria was too crowded so my friend group would hang out in our classroom, since most of us were classmates. Right now, lunch just depends on my schedule and where I happen to be by noon.

What do/did you do at recess? Catch up on homework I skipped the night before.

There’s always that one kid who no one really knows, right? LOL, yes.

Is/was your cafeterias food actually any good? It used to be good. Then they kind of hired this company to start making the meals starting junior year and the food was never as good again.

Do/did you have a stereotypical school, with all those cliques and such? You can say that. We had popular party kids, smart but still cool kids, soccer players, the basketball players who all turned out gay, kids who kinda just hovered in the middle, and those who were kinda brushed to the side were the theatre and anime kids.

TEN - Randomly Platypus.

Do you like your toothbrush really wet when you’re brushing your teeth? Not really wet. I just make sure I’ve put it under the running water before applying the toothpaste.

What song are you currently obsessed with? Not into anything at the moment.

What was the stupidest dare you’ve ever done? I hate dares, so I don’t do them haha.

Do you enjoy playing with tape? No?

What’s one word/phrase you say too much? LITERALLY. Which is a problem because most of the time, the things I associate the word with aren’t literal.

When was the last time you went trick-or-treating? 2017.

What did you last use a knife for? Haha, my orgmates were cooking up lunch and I volunteered to chop up the onions. Fun fact: First time to use a knife, ever.

When you open a pack of gum, why is everyone your best friend? Because gum is always a good idea.

What has been on your mind way too much? Completing my requirements for internship so I can submit them as early as possible.

Did you actually enjoy my survey? Sure. Categories are always fun.

#survey #surveys

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chibioniyuri · 5 years

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A Story in Two Parts

I’ve never had to work hard for anything. That’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

Friends were... kind of easy. It was always shallow stuff, things you could say at recess or lunch or during passing period. I’m eager to please and easy to talk to. But it was never anything really deep. There wasn’t much point when I wouldn’t be able to spend much time outside of school with them anyway, and it was easier to be just distant enough not to get the invitations I would have to decline anyway. And books made excellent companions anyway. And my brother was like a built-in friend who couldn’t go away. It worked.

Schoolwork was easy. Just do what the teacher tells you. Study what they point out in the study review - I was never sure if they did this to help us from being overwhelmed or to help inflate their own reports, but nearly every teacher did it without fail. Minimum effort into school projects because we were poor and couldn’t afford much. And I didn’t have the creativity some kids did, so my poster board was plain and white with outlines in marker to draw visual interest, but it was nothing compared to the pictures and glitter and fuzzy little balls that others included. But it was fine because I always met the requirements.

Getting into college was easy. Top 5% of the graduating class automatically got into whatever state college they wanted. I left the college applications too late, didn’t really net any scholarships, but I got to attend my “dream” college at A&M because they had no choice but to accept me.

Finding work was easy, too, in that for a long time, I didn’t have to. I started filing paperwork at the business my dad worked at because kids were cheap labor and we were excited to get paid cash (under the table, of course). And when I dropped out of the “dream” college when my brain broke a little, they were excited to accept me full time because they needed someone to answer calls and emails and run reports and track down whether something got delivered or not when someone inevitably forgot to enter something into the system. And besides tackling my fear of phones on a daily basis, the work itself was easy.

Choosing my new career when the idea of becoming a veterinarian fell through was also easy. I attended the local community college when my dad threatened to kick me out of the house if I didn’t get my shit together, walked into the administration office, and picked a brochure that didn’t seem too terribly out of line with what I was interested in anyway. Nursing. Human bodies. Science. Cool.

Getting into nursing school was easy, too. See: schoolwork was easy. Big GPA. I didn’t have the references or community service or anything to pad my resume, so to speak, but my GPA rocked. So.

And I lucked into my current job too. I was playing around on Monster.com and accidentally submitted my resume to a home health company that contacted me a few days later. There was some stuff in between: getting laid off, unemployment, my brain breaking just a little bit again. But that’s not the important bit.

So when I say I haven’t had to work hard for anything, I mean it. Things have come easy for me, ridiculously so. If anything in my life had required a modicum of effort, I would have abandoned it just to save myself the trouble.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I love words. I love reading them, learning them, writing them. My mother language or what I wish was my mother language. Choosing just the right word to put into just the right place because some words might mean roughly the same thing but connotations are a thing. How worlds are created or destroyed; how people are created or destroyed. The epic quest a hero undertakes to become the hero. The trials and tribulations of meeting someone, gathering the courage to put their heart on the line, and then living together in the soft and the hard moments.

Particularly, I love the bit of writing when I’m inspired. When the words rush from my brain to my fingertips onto whatever medium I’m using that day. Like I’m in a kayak getting pushed by the natural flow of the river and all I have to do is steer. It’s effortless and a true joy to watch the birth of new words.

But at some point, the inspiration dies. I hope against hope that I’ll manage to get all the words out before it does. Sometimes I do. Most of the time I don’t. And then it’s like my river carried me to a lake, and the water stills. I’m left stranded and adrift, and the only way to continue is to get out my paddles and get to work.

What comes next is not beautiful. It’s tears and sadness. It’s pushing out words just to say that they exist and then erasing them again because they’re not the right words. It’s gray days where colors and feelings and taste and sensation are all muted, when it’s easier to attack the broken brain for being broken. It’s reading over what’s already there and loving it and then reaching the end and hating it because there’s more to be written but the well of words has run dry.

I’ve never had to work hard for anything, and I’ve never regretted it quite so much as when I look at a project that once brought me such joy and wonder if it’ll ever bring joy to others as well because right now, the words have gone quiet and still.

#k writes #personal #it's a very gray day today

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minnesokyo · 6 years

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do you got any cute Kidge family headcannons??

hi! yes’m indeed i do! although they’re not very good or original,,, just vague family dynamic hcs. i haven’t created any of my own kidge kiddos yet but that might change! anyway, here’s what i got~

Pidge lets her kids dress however they want. she’s all for letting them express themselves creatively. tutu and jeans? sure. mismatched socks? why not. temporary purple hair dye? hell yeah.

Keith wins the Cutest Dad award. he walks the kids to school every morning before work and often leaves work momentarily in order to walk them home. all of the other moms think he is adorable.

he makes the kids’ lunches and puts little inspirational notes in their lunch boxes (Shiro used to slip similar notes into Keith’s gym locker @ the Garrison).

when the kids are in elementary school, he and Pidge will sometimes leave work to ride his motorbike over, and visit the kids during their recess hour (mainly to show off Keith’s motorbike to the other teachers tbh). all the kids think Mr. and Mrs. Kogane are cool afff

i should note that Keith is REALLY GOOD at double dutch and will play with the students at recess. he’ll also play soccer, flip off the swings, and hang on the jungle gym with the kids. Pidge will draw with chalk over on the blacktop with the quieter ones.

Pidge does summer school with the kids on her days off. nothing crazy, just a little math, a little writing, a little spelling, a cool science experiment here and there. art is also a big deal, she loves doing DIY sensory crafts with the kids.

find-it jars, kinetic sand and homemade slime/putty in particular are big hits. the rug under the kitchen table is always littered with beads, colorful sand and caked with Elmer’s glue on art days.

she covers the fridge with their art and frames a lot of it, too. she’s sentimental, okay///

being a skilled martial artist, Keith teaches the kids self-defense techniques and the importance of exercise early on. he takes up a position as an instructor at a studio on the weekends where he specializes in close-combat and karate. He also gets into fencing.

sometimes, the kids will spend Saturday mornings with him at the studio. he and Pidge will occasionally take them out for kakigori afterwards!

like i said, Keith is a sap.jpeg. if one of their kids is having a rough night, he’ll sing softly to them while rocking them back to sleep.

they have an old rocking chair that belonged to Katie’s nonna. nonna gifted it to them after their first pregnancy announcement and shipped it over from her home in Italy.

Pidge will take the kids to the park if Keith has to stay late for work. The park plays movies on a big projector at the bandstand once a week, and they’ll make a little picnic out of it. Pidge’ll bring Kosmo too; he’ll curl up next to the kiddos on the little picnic blanket and let them braid his fur.

thanks for the question! i’m sorry if this wasn’t really what you were looking for >~

#kidge #keidge #kidgemas #voltron #thanks for asking!#voltron legendary defender #kidge headcanon #minneasks #kidge fam #peith #oh my kidge

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minimickzy · 6 years

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Passing Notes pt. 2|| Peter Parker

in which Spider-Man finds a way to talk to the girl he’s been crushing on since forever

Characters: Peter Parker x Reader, Ned Leeds, Mj, Flash

Word count: 1552

Warning: Flash is a sexist pig (sexual harassment)

AGE 16

a/n: there will be 5 4 parts to this series! just let me know if you’d like to be tagged <3 this is a rewrite of one of my first Peter Parker imagines

last part - next part

When you woke up the first thing you thought about was the note. You almost didn't want to check in case he hadn’t came back. But then again what if he had…

You rolled over to face the window and sure enough there was a new note peeking out of the bottom of your window frame. You smiled and picked yourself from the covers, grabbing the note and sitting back on your desk.

‘I couldn’t help but see your star wars poster- it’s really cool. Star Wars is the best. Are you excited for Solo? - your friendly neighborhood hero’

You let out a small laugh, Spider-Man is a nerd. Noted. ‘Oh yeah. I just don’t have anyone to see it with. None of my friends would be caught dead watching it.’ You thought it was a good sign he asked a question, he was trying to start a conversation with you.

You put the note back and then got ready for school. You wanted to try and hang out with Mj, Ned and Peter again. They were so welcoming and so so much better than the gossip queens you averagely hung out with. Liz was nice, and sometimes you did have fun with them, they just didn't like the same things as you plus Flash was such a dick.

At lunch you sat at your normal table, it was fine until Flash thought that your day might be going a little too well. You had been working on your chem homework when Flash sat down next to you and slipped your pencil from your hand. “Wanna try a experiment (y/n)?” He smirked as you tried not to gag. “Come on, Flash I have to finish this for class.” He played with your pencil between his fingers still with that ridiculous smirk planted on his lips. “Don’t you wanna know if we have chemistry.” He leaned closer to you and placed his free hand on your thigh. “I’ll save you the trouble. We don't. Now cut it out.” You tried to back away from him but he had other plans. He dropped your pencil and grabbed your waist. “Flash, let go of me.”

You tried to sound calm, you didn't want to let him win. You didn't know what to do. You were in the middle of the fucking cafieteria, all of your friends sitting near you and no one, not one fucking person was doing a damn thing to help you. “Stop it you fucking ass.” You hissed. He just grinned and moved his hand up slowly. You winced and tried to pull against his grasp but it was obvious he was stronger than you.

“I’m just testing my hypothesis.” He pushed himself towards you in attempt to kiss you but you moved to the side and used his moment of awkwardness to break free and punch him square on the nose. Everyone gasped at your table as Flash let out a yelp and you sprang out of your seat and soon it felt as if everyone was staring at you and the boy holding his nose. “What the hell (y/n)?” Liz snapped at you.

You scoffed, “he was fucking sexually harassing me!” Your heart was racing from the unwanted attention. “He was just messing around. You know, boys will be boys.” Your jaw dropped, “Are you kidding right now?” They all looked at you like you were crazy, like you were the one in the wrong.

Your cheeks burned as you looked around. Everyone in the lunchroom had their eyes glued on you by now and the teachers had started to make their way over to the scene.

Because of your clean record they only gave you a warning and two weeks of detention. The only bad recessions would be one, you now have a grand total of zero friends and two, you were the girl you broke Flashs nose. You’d be the hot gossip for weeks to come.

You were excused for the rest of the day so you headed to Mr. Delmars store. You used to go there nearly everyday but as you raised in popularity you were expected to hang around other places. The bell rang as you stepped through the newly rebuilt market. “(y/n)! Long time no see.” Mr. Delmar beamed as you made your way over to the counter.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot more of me now- Still remember my usual?” You tried your best to give a genuine smile as he chuckled. “I never forget a usual.” He yelled back your order as he started to ring you up. “So, What brings you around here this time of day? Shouldn’t you be in school?” He gave you a disappointed look.

“Yeah. I was dismissed for the day... I punched this guy.” Mr. Delmar's mood shifted to protectiveness. “Was this kid giving you a hard time?” You nodded, “he just wanted something I wasn’t about to give him. Everyone said his was just messing around but it just felt so wrong.” “Don’t let anyone tell you you weren’t justified. You have to protect yourself from people like that. And if for some reason you can’t, you know my number.” you chuckled and gave him a tight smile. “Thanks Mr. Delmar. I’ll try to swing by more.”

The next day at school you tried to keep your head down. You didn’t talk to anyone, didn't look at anyone. At lunch you ate by yourself in the hall. If you were called on you gave a quick response before putting your head back down on the table. All in all it didn't seem to last too long. When the final bell rang that's when you remembered you still had another hour to go. Detention.

When you walked in you were surprised to say the least the both Mj and Peter Parker were there. What could they have possibly done to be stuck here? When Mj saw you she gave you a thumbs up and gestured for you to sit by next to her and in front of Peter. You slowly walked towards her before slipping in the seat and mumbling a “hey”.

Mj Smiled and started to clap, “Someone finally put that ass in his place, I’m proud kid.” “Thanks.” You gave her a half assed smile and sat back in the chair. The teacher gave you both a delayed shush before looking back to his computer. Silence hung in the air before Mj turned back towards Peter, “Hey Pete, you up for another movie night?” “Uh- Yeah, yeah sure.” Every little question seemed to throw Peter off, it was kinda adorable. “What about you (y/n)? You game?” You looked at her shocked, she was inviting you even though she didn't have to work on a project? Groundbreaking. “That sounds cool, I’m in.”

The three of you waited until the bell finally rang and let you all free. “Peter, your house or mine?” Peter looked towards Mj before thinking through his choices, you seeing his nerdy apartment or Mj being in control of the movie and seating all while knowing of the massive crush on you Peter had been laundering for years. “Actually- what if we see Solo? We can tell Ned to meet us there.” Mj nodded and pulled out her phone, texting who you assumed Ned.

The movie was great, Han Solo keeps finding ways to become even more attractive. You were so happy, the holy-geek-trinity had brought you with them to see Solo. You kept thinking of how you told Spidy you wouldn’t get to see it but now you could tell him what happened and tell him all about how you weren't a total loser with no friends they actually liked.

A new note was sticking out your window when you closed the door to your room. ‘Maybe someone will ask you to see it, I think my Spidy senses can feel it. - your friendly neighborhood hero’ you smiled, his Spidy senses were right. ‘Funny… This really cool group of friends asked me to see in after I got stuck in detention. Guess you were right.’

You stuck it back in before plopping into bed for the night and turning your phone on to see someone had added you to a group chat.

Mj: We took a vote and we decided you could join the group. We figured seeing as now you don't have any other friends and you like star wars this would work out. If you accept there are mandatory movie nights, Peter says you’re smart so you should try to join the decathlon team and finally a assigned seat at our lunch table

Ned Leeds: You don’t have to do any of that (y/n), we just thought you were cool (: welcome to the awesome clan of PMN

Peter Parker: We voted?

Peter Parker: wait that sounded wrong

Peter Parker: If we had i would voting yes

Peter Parker: Unless you don't want to join

Peter Parker: nvm sorry

Peter Parker: ignore this

Ned Leeds: Dude that’s embarrassing

Peter Parker: Ned Shut UP!

You: Uh- sure. You guys are really cool (: I’ll see you at school tomorrow I guess

You went to sleep smiling like an idiot that night.

General taglist

@marvels-queen-bee @paigeyisme @littleblue5mcdork @mystxrieux @dannnyphantomm @properparker @flopobrien @utautattooedghoul @commondazy @safehaven1097 @macymafia @pinetree111 @thekidsofneibolt @mcheung0314 @notnotnotnotkayla @bigbilliamdenbro

Peter Parker Taglist

@make-yourownmemories

Passing Notes taglist

@spacedoutsher @fandomlover03 @kawaii-girl-101 @farfromjustordinary @legendarydazekitten @hiorheybitch @supernatural-emo-trashbin @stevieboyharrington @embace-themagic @ashleyhearto @musicandbokkslovingweirdo @sweetscake613 @saltyteru @allthings-sandy @sonoteorico @queen-tay-tay-love @adriennemichelle98 @wefracturedmotivation @dafnouche @greenarrowhead @cutie1365 @ohhhotstan @salty-kat @yourwonderbelle @thebittygirl @littlevelvethearts @thellamalord @magical-fandoms @abearindisguisecosplay @i-fucking-rock @untoldshortsofthefandoms

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #Spider-Man: Homecoming #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

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ONE - HI THERE ! It’s an intro !

What do most people call you? Stephanie/Steph. In what month is your birthday? July. What country were you born in? US. Do you have siblings? How many, if you do? I have 2 brothers. Who do you live with? My parents, younger brother, and our doggo.

Are you in a relationship? No. Do you go to school? No. What mood are you in right now? At this current moment I’m hungry and in serious need of coffee. What does your shirt look like? It’s a long-sleeved Star Wars shirt that looks like a comic book cover. The main part of the shirt is white and the sleeves are gray. What’s your zodiac sign? Leo. TWO - Your Appearance If you could have plastic surgery on any one body part, what would it be? I wouldn’t. Are you satisfied with your hair? Ugh, no. It really needs to be dyed again and trimmed. Do you have a hitchhikers or a straight thumb? More on the hitchhikers side. What colour are your eyes? Brown. Do you have any tan lines? No. How old do people usually think you are? Early 20s.

What about your appearance do you get complimented on the most? My hair after it’s been recently dyed and the color looks good and my roots aren’t showing. Are you comfortable with your weight? No. I’m too thin right now. Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Where? I only have my earlobes pierced. How tall are you? 5′4ish. THREE - True or False. I love winter. I have eaten meat in the past five days. I have painted a room in a house. I can whistle. My keyboard is black. I have never bought something off an infomercial. I own a snuggie / would like to own a snuggie. I bite my pens / pencils. I wear glasses / contacts. My nails are painted right now. FOUR - Childhood Memories ! What was your all time favourite movie as a kid? Hmm. I’m not sure about movie. I had a lot of favorite tv shows, though. Do you still have your first pair of shoes somewhere? Yes, my mom kept them.

Did you have anything you always dragged around the house, like a blanket? No. What toy did you play with the most? Barbies. Did you ever bring your favourite toys in the bathtub? Yeah, sometimes. Did you used to take baths with siblings/cousins? When we were babies. Are you still friends with your best friends from long ago? No. Do your parents ever tell you stories about how cute/silly you were? Yeah. Did you go to the park often? No. What was a typical outfit for the 5-year-old you? Something cute, I don’t know. FIVE - FAVOURITES ! (Yes, I spell it with a ‘u’) Actor/Actress. Alexander Skarsgard. Singer/Band/Both. Linkin Park will always be one of them. Chocolate. White. Toothpaste. Sensodyne fresh mint. <<<< Picture of yourself. Look at my avatar. Pair of sunglasses. I don’t wear them. Vegetable. Broccoli and spinach. Sandwich. Turkey with provolone cheese, mayo, and pesto on sourdough or wheat bread. Aspect of nature. Ocean. Word to say. I don’t know. SIX - Love Life ;) Who was the first person to ever ask you out? My first boyfriend, Derek. What does your ideal date consist of? Going out to eat or for coffee. What’s one thing your partner must be able to accept about you? My health problems. Does your ideal person have any special talents? Such as…? It would be cool if they could play piano or guitar. And/or sing. Do your parents like the person you’re with? (Or the last person) I wasn’t with him, but they really liked Ty and they thought we would end up together. Do you like pet names? Not really. What is one attribute that your ideal partner must have? Patience. When was the last time someone seriously said “I love you.” to you? A few days ago. Have you ever been in more than one relationship at a time? No. SEVEN - The wonderful world of the Internet ! What is your most used website? Tumblr. Do you play any online games? Nope. Which chat program do you use most often? None. Facebook vs Myspace- which is better? I only use Facebook out of the 2. Myspace died years ago. Is there someone you met online that you’d like to meet in person? I’d be too nervous and awkward. Have you ever sold something on Ebay or Craigslist? No. Have you ever gone on Chatroulette? Or Omegle video? Yeah. Are there any videos of yourself on Youtube? Yes, but they’ll never see the light of day again. Mac or PC? Mac. Have you ever Googled your name? Yeah. EIGHT - This or That? Twilight or Harry Potter? French fries or potato wedges? Liquid or tape white out? Digital or film camera? Nail clippers or nail scissors? Rock, paper, or scissors? Beard or mustache? Knee high or ankle socks? Hockey or basketball? Mr Clean or sponge and 'the other leading cleaning product’? NINE - Be cool, stay in school! What subject are/were you best at? English. How old will you be when you graduate high school / how old were you? I was 18. Isn’t there that point in the year when you stop caring so much? Like in school? There’s that point where you start to experience “senioritis.” Do/did you have any really cool teachers? Yeah, I had a few. Who is/was your most strict teacher? A couple math professors in college. Where do/did you sit at lunch? Different places. What do/did you do at recess? I just hung out with friends and ate my snack. There’s always that one kid who no one really knows, right? Uhhh. Is/was your cafeterias food actually any good? Some things were. In elementary I actually liked the pizzas and burritos. I very rarely ate school lunch in high school, but what I had was okay. Oh, but they did sell pizza at these little pizza stands on campus that were good. Do/did you have a stereotypical school, with all those cliques and such? I mean I guess, but it’s not like how you see it in the movies. TEN - Randomly Platypus. Do you like your toothbrush really wet when you’re brushing your teeth? Yeah. What song are you currently obsessed with? I don’t have one right now. What was the stupidest dare you’ve ever done? I always said truth, so. Do you enjoy playing with tape? No. What’s one word/phrase you say too much? I don’t know. Wait, actually “I don’t know” is a pretty good answer. <<<< Haha same. When was the last time you went trick-or-treating? Back in high school sometime. What did you last use a knife for? I used a knife and fork when I was eating boneless wings the other day. When you open a pack of gum, why is everyone your best friend? I always felt like I had to be secretive about it, ha. What has been on your mind way too much?/ Health stuff. Did you actually enjoy my survey? Sure.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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wannawrite · 5 years

Text

I - SCENE TWO 💘

blog navigator.

day6 masterlist!

group: day6

member: young k

genre: unspecified

A/N: italics = english / emphasised words in korean / thoughts. you should be able to tell from the context of the story so idt ill go into that much :3

Coincidentally 2 years ago from the depressing journey to the party, Younghyun had never felt more lonely in his entire life.

As the school bell rang peskily from a distance, with its shrill, silvery soprano, his dull, tear speckled eyes could only follow the footsteps of those who were already starting to talk in raised voices, those who actually had friends to eat with them during recess.

The cacophony of noises that had emerged from the earlier silence in the classroom was needlessly to say, irritating. It was scarily ironic how Younghyun's loneliness seemed to be amplified amidst the chatter, in spite of the amount of people that made up this area.

Time passed by Younghyun's watching eyes cruelly, and bullets of jealousy seemed to thrust through his heart with every footstep that got further away from him. In a matter of seconds, everyone had already torn through the exit of the class and dispersed out into the canteen, the field; all the places that was no short of foreign to him.

He was the only one new here. He was the only one that didn't have friends in the class.

He didn't want it that way.

He longed to hook himself to the ends of conversations with witty jokes, just as the other kids did, and fill the hollow of his bottomless heart with human presence. He longed to have a friend.

A friend, not friends. He wasn't asking for much.

Amidst the stillness that hung awkwardly in the classroom, Younghyun paced aimlessly around the area; the only thing remotely moving at all being himself, and the golden particles that floated through the window from the sun, descending gingerly on the sides of people's desks like fireflies in the day. He moved around a little, dragging the soles of his shoes against the floor which made a funny rustling sound, but also made him feel a little less lonely.

He sighed.

Years ago, he was feeling homesick in Toronto, and now that he was back 'home', he'd do anything just to wish himself back to the other side of the world.

This place no longer felt like 'home' anymore; in fact, nowhere did.

Younghyun watched the golden particles litter the plastic cover of his textbook, with a slight hint of sorrow in their seemingly gentle movements-and just then, he saw himself in those particles.

Floating around aimlessly, just trying to find somewhere that felt like home.

Just then, as his imagination flew free from his body, a voice resembling the likes of the school bell cut short his trip down memory lane.

"Student Kang Younghyun! You are not allowed to be in the classroom block during recess hours! Come out now!" the teacher-on-patrol yelled irritatingly, her old, faltering voice cracking between every syllable. Slightly shocked, Younghyun whirled around on his heel to face his dear, dear history teacher; only to find that her shadow had vanished in the blink of an eye.

With the newfound knowledge that there was no one else to watch over him, he rolled his eyes as he made his way to his desk, feeling an unusually petulant annoyance spark in him when the scenario replayed itself in his head. Of course it's so easy for you to call me out, stupid teacher, he thought bitterly, you've never had the classroom as your only companion before.

As he continued to think up a flurry of very undesirable curses that he'd die to hurl at the teacher, Younghyun felt a hard, slightly rough texture graze against the tip of his shoes.

It was his guitar, leaning against the leg of his table and looking at him expectantly.

He hesitated for a bit before going along with his heart to pick it back up again, and for the first time in this school, he smiled softly.

"Guess it's only you and me then."

___________________________________

It was a windy day. Younghyun had made himself comfortable, sitting on a bench adjacent to the school garden, away from the hubbub and cacophony of the canteen. He was admiring the autumn trees swaying in the distance, with their welcoming coats of orange and golden yellow; occasional reds in their gradient if he was lucky enough to see them.

As bits of leaves emerged from the clutch of the branches, cascading obediently under the guidance of the wind and joining the stack piled up below the bark of the tree, a certain scale he had learnt in music class secretly blended in with the warm hues-E major.

Younghyun felt a funny mix of warmth and excitement spread throughout his veins as he unzipped the cover of the guitar excitedly, and brought it into the crevice of his embrace; he had always loved how the curves of the instrument moulded perfectly into his body, bringing him the feeling of being touched, the feeling of being loved.

He dared himself to slot his fingers in between the strings of the guitar, and gave it a loose, thoughtless strum in E major-letting the resonance of the melody echo warmly, which was the utmost beauty of acoustic guitars.

The strings were so rough with their occasional malice, but felt so much like home.

The only sense of home he had felt...

Since...

Coming back to Seoul...

Younghyun's thoughts unfurled in sync with the slow movements of his fingers, as he languidly dragged his hands across the strings again once more, having a newfound desire to re-explore the instrument.

"Oh, sh-Ah, I'm not supposed to swear! Heck!"

At the familiar ringing of the whimsical American accent he hadn't heard much-not since coming back home, at least-Younghyun could barely stifle a snort as he turned his head, trying his best to not show any traces of amusement on his face.

He caught sight of a walking figure and scanned their side profile briefly, realising how all his features endearingly weaved themselves into existence. They consisted of a grey cardigan blotted with folds, golden rimmed glasses, and hair resembling curled pieces of flavoured tteokbokki that barely fitted into the crevice of his ear.

They were the lightest shade of soft strawberry pink, unequivocally resembling his scent as a strong, but sweet whiff of strawberries hit a disoriented Younghyun.

The guy had approached him, and as Younghyun felt the ends of his hair bristle like a winter tree, he redirected his eyes to the numerous folds in the guy's hood, wanting nothing more but to plunge into one of them and disappear from any form of human contact.

Younghyun looked down to avoid his gaze.

The oversized grey cardigan was touching his arms.

"I'm in your class, right?" the guy talked in unusually decent Korean, getting Younghyun to look back up again as his small, excited eyes raised like ridges out of the sea. There was a flicker of dullness in his shine as his speech faltered slightly, like he wanted to say something but decided against it. "Sorry for suddenly approaching you, b-but I don't think I have anyone with the same interests as I do, and well, I'm not the best at socialising, and that guitar looks pretty cool. That's all."

Younghyun allowed himself a small giggle, in hindsight better than the stifled snort from earlier, and after a few perplexed glances the guy caught onto Younghyun's smile, realising how awkwardly he had halted the conversation.

"Sorry, I haven't introduced myself yet." he chuckled, somehow discernible with the quieter voice he had taken to, "I'm Park Jaehyung, and I'm a transfer student here." He had unintentionally lowered his voice at transfer student, and Younghyun related.

"Kang Younghyun." he started to break into a half-smile, meeting Jaehyung's gaze with a softened, understanding look. He too, understood the struggles of fitting in here like a broken puzzle piece, possibly more than anyone else. "I'm a transfer student too," he said with gusto, "-maybe we'll get along well."

With the newfound meaning of transfer student, the other boy returned Younghyun's grin happily, as if he had made not just words but everything better with the tap of his wand.

"So, transfer student," Jaehyung remarked, an evident smirk on his face as he thoroughly relished in the use of the word, and in the process drawing out a few laughs from Younghyun, "What sort of music do you like?"

"Honestly, anything. I normally listen to rock because I'm an emotional lit kid these days, but I guess British pop and what not is cool too. I got so many good songs in my playlist, you don't even know..." Younghyun rambled on quickly about the thing he had loved the most as a kid, and the thing that had brought him to where he was today. "How about you?" he asked subsequently, eager to know what the other listened to too, and Jaehyung laughed at the excitement that flickered in his eyes; just the simple mention of music could really work wonders.

"Same, but these days I listen to...quite a bit of R&B and acoustic folk." he replied, the gentle raise of his eyebrows establishing a faint hint of happiness. Then, out of nowhere and plain curiosity, he flicked a finger at the guitar in Younghyun's hands. "Can you play that?"

Younghyun nodded before shrugging again; he wasn't very confident in his skills, but he considered himself passable. "Yeah, kinda, I guess. I'm not that great, but I love doing this." He didn't even try to restrain a smile as his eyes dipped back down to the guitar, looking at it with a simple adoration.

It seemed to be infectious, as it had caught onto Jaehyung; who was, in turn, admiring the other's passion, and feeling exactly the same way about music as he did. With a more evident excitement, he exclaimed, "Oh, that's so cool! I play the guitar too! What's, um, a song you've liked to play recently?"

Younghyun's eyebrows knitted in confusion. He twirled his index over the surface of his chin, not knowing exactly how to answer; recently, he had been singing lots of songs to fill the bottomless in his heart, but he couldn't really pinpoint a favourite. Eventually, for the sole purpose of giving Jaehyung an answer, he just decided to pick one of his all time favourites that he had ceased to hum a single note from-not ever since he left Toronto.

He didn't really like talking about that song much. It was his very feelings of loss, or some would say, outright petulance before leaving his friends there.

"I like The Man Who Can't Be Moved." Younghyun answered blatantly, wary for the slight voice crack in the last word-he wanted to remain his composure in front of Jaehyung, at least just for their first meeting. He tilted his head down, not daring to make eye contact with the other person as he tentatively clipped his hands to the fretboard; but just then, he had second thoughts about it.

Did I come off rude? Do I look nervous? Oh crap, he's going to think I'm weird-

"Can I hear it?"

Younghyun froze, pupils positioning in the exact core of his eyes.

"W-What?"

"Um, can I hear it? T-That is, if-um, if it's okay..." Jaehyung repeated the question again, eyes drifting to Younghyun's; seeing the horror in his gaze had triggered a subtle tentativeness in his voice. Nevertheless, Younghyun nodded vigorously in reply, whilst racking his brains for some good excuse to justify his actions.

"Of course you can." he responded shyly, diffident smile baring the bunny teeth hiding in his mouth, "It's just-it's just-" Younghyun paused for a while, trying to gather his thoughts as he skimmed a finger through the strands in his hair, "This song means a lot to me."

He looked up at Jaehyung meekly, who got the message, and smiled back understandingly with all his heart and spirit. Holding the hems of his grey cardigan to the abrupt crinkle in his eyes, he said with confidence, "I bet you'll be able to sing this song well."

Younghyun shrugged, lips bridging into a small bump. "Hopefully it's good."

Ignoring the facade that he had looked after faithfully for most of the conversation, his eyes turned to his beloved guitar once again as he fumbled through the strings for a key, a key that he had once remembered from the top of his head.

But soon enough, as he found that something, the voice that escaped from his lips was one filled with the cracks and potholes of youth; a youth of falling from fences and music well spent in Toronto, and instantly, his fingers found their home again.

Going back to the corner, where I first saw you

Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move

Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand

Saying, "If you see this girl, can you tell her where I am?"

Some try to hand me money, they don't understand

I'm not broke, I'm just a broken-hearted man

I know it makes no sense, but what else can I do

How can I move on when I'm still in love with you

Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me

And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be

Thinkin' maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet

And you'll see me waiting for you on our corner of the street

So I'm not moving, I'm not moving

Younghyun, carried gingerly by the tether of his euphoria, let it disappear gradually as he held the last note, just for a little longer. The lyrics had brought back some beautiful memories, that he really didn't wish to dampen with the selfishness that human emotions would always bring; they had hit a little too close to home for comfort.

On the contrary, Jaehyung had an eager, but somehow composed smile lingering on his face; like he had something beneath that enthusiasm but refused to show it. "You're really good at singing," he awed quietly, small giggles dovetailed to his speech and establishing a subtle amazement, "-and really, really good at English."

Upon hearing the last line, Younghyun couldn't help but laugh in good humour, slightly amused by the surprise that contorted his soft, demure features. "I lived in Toronto for 4 years. I'm not that great at English, but I'd consider myself fluent."

Jaehyung's mouth fell open in shock. "Wait, you can speak English? The way you say Toronto is very...accentuated."

"Yeah man! You have a pretty evident American accent, I can tell you do too." Complying to Jaehyung's question, Younghyun gave him a rightfully English answer, and his smile only got even wider when Jaehyung's eyes lit up like the Christmas trees back in his apartment overseas.

"Ooh, ooh, wait, hold up, my dude! I literally don't know ANYONE who can speak fluent English. We're literally, like friends now, oh my gosh." Jaehyung started to rave, lips puckered in excitement as he spoke his first language with less stiffness than he did in Korean, "My Korean compared to the locals here is absolutely terrible. Like okay, I'm fluent and all, but I just can't find the words to say to properly express myself, namsayin? Ugh, it's soooo difficult to just get one sentence across to the teachers, and it's so agonising as well whenever they lecture me about it, jeez." Realising how his speech had been no more than an indiscernible string of gibberish, Jaehyung paused before tittering gently to break the silence, unequivocally shy about his habit of rambling off like a bullet train. "S-Sorry, I got too excited." he said again, back to the quiet boy that the formalities of the Korean language forced onto him.

Younghyun waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine. We can speak in English if you're more comfortable with it." he quipped. "Plus, I think I prefer seeing you like this," he said with the small hint of a knowing smirk, and instantly Jaehyung's features relaxed, figure further unfurling into the bench.

"Thanks man. Never heard anything more relieving ever since coming here." he remarked, letting loose a few awkward laughs before adding hesitantly, "By the way, I think you could just call me Jae. It's something that I'm more used to, and it sounds less weird in English."

"Sounds cool. Jae Park, Jae Park. Damn, my homie, whatcha doin with all your swag?" Younghyun called in the most terribly exaggerated accent that resembled Jae's way of talking, and both of them doubled over even harder than before. However, Younghyun had done so in slight embarrassment-why did he think it was okay to do something so cringeworthy?

However, as he moulded his face into his palms, he peered through the crevices between his fingers and decided Jae's happiness was worth it.

The freedom in his eyes, the way that his voice flowed in English like the rapids of a river; it evidently showed that he felt at home speaking with such informality, with such slack in his voice. It was as if the sleeves in his cardigan that hung loose had unfolded its 'wings' and flew from a cage that had once threatened to, and did imprison him.

And, for the second time in foreign ground, Younghyun felt a fleeting upturning of his lips, something that he could barely press down."Best friends?" he had asked, but had said it more like a declaration as he jabbed his pinky into Jae's face maliciously; startling the older boy whilst painting creases in his eyes. Still, being too happy over his new friend, Jae took it in good nature as he unhesitantly twined his pinky around Younghyun's.

"For sure, my brother from another mother." he declared with conviction, just as the recess bell struck to signify the start of something new. "Let's get it."

_____________________________________

a/n: whenever jae and younghyun talk, i will not italicise it anymore unless its in korean. basically italics will be implemented in the language used less often in the chapter?? so eg. the chapter mainly features yk talking in korean to sungjin, then if jae suddenly talks i will have to italicise it for their english convo lol. but if theres a scene in the chapter thats only showing jae and yk i will not italicise it, assuming that u alrdy kno that theyre speaking in eng aight:)

sorry for being so inactive TTTTTT

#day6 youngk #day6 #young k #kang younghyun #brian kang #admin n

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flwrpotts · 6 years

Text

jughead jones. some things.

age 7.

hair that always stands up in the back. knobby knees, knobby elbows, knobby wrists. missing his front two teeth. chuck clayton makes fun of him for it. archie says he thinks it’s cool. wants to stay inside for recess. jeans that have holes in the knees. jellybean is small and red and screams all night long. mom says it’s an ear infection. dad says he needs some fuckin’ peace and quiet. jughead is good at quiet. betty gives him her old books, a new one every week. he reads them in the dark with a dying flashlight. plays peekaboo with the baby for hours. draws houses during free draw and shrugs when reggie mantle asks why. betty says that you have to write down a list for santa and then if you’re good he’ll bring you gifts. jughead asks for jellybean to sleep through the night and pants that don’t stop too short. doesn’t get either. wonders why.

age 9.

dad smells like something sharp and laughs too loud. he’s home when jughead leaves for school and gone all night. but they still go to the drive in every saturday and get an extra large popcorn. jellybean cries less and bites things more. always hungry. the kind of hunger that keeps him up at night and gnaws at his stomach, aches inside his bones. he gets one peanut butter sandwich for lunch. watches as archie eats fruit roll ups and granola bars and apple sauce. winter jacket that doesn’t fit. betty gets him a library card for christmas. archie gets him a hat and mittens and gloves. says i wanted to get you the new transformer, but mom said this would be better. collects the cool rocks he finds on the playground and keeps them in a shoebox. makes funny faces so jellybean will laugh. sleeps over archie’s and counts the glow in the dark stars.

age 11.

mom says she’s tired. mom looks through him like he’s a ghost. mom forgets the pasta on the stove until the pot bubbles over. it sucks. wears the beanie to hide his bathroom sink haircut. jason blossom and chuck throw his backpack in a dumpster. archie helps him dig it out after school. learns what the word shame means. hangs his own report card up on the fridge. cuts j.b’s peanut butter sandwiches into stars and hearts. sings along with mr. andrew’s old beatles records. mom and dad fight all the time. archie says his parents fight, too, but it’s different. cheryl blossom tells the whole cafeteria that his shirt used to belong to jason and came from the thrift store. betty tells cheryl to shut up and has to stay after school for a parent-teacher meeting. tosses her ponytail afterwards and tells him it was worth it. the andrews invite him over for dinner a lot. he asks if jellybean can come, too, before learning better.

age 13.

archie’s mom leaves for chicago. he wishes his dad would leave for chicago. jellybean wants to be called j.b and a new barbie lunchbox. writes stuff down when he can’t sleep. betty says he has a gift and archie says that’s really cool, jug. archie is one of the popular kids now. betty is, too. he wonders when they’ll stop being friends with him. white sneakers turned brown from trailer park dust. hands cracked red with cold. bruises under the eyes. listens to nirvana. learns how to fight back with words. cooks kraft mac and cheese for dinner. doesn’t go to the seventh grade dance. couldn’t afford the button down, anyways. takes j.b to the drive-in when their parents fight. likes the old movies best. the old librarian passes away. the new one sneers and tells him that trailer trash isn’t allowed to loiter on the premises. he doesn’t tell a soul. chews on the end of his pencil. dreams four nights in a row that he asked betty to the dance.

age 15.

f.p is a goddamned trainwreck. mom fucked off to toledo and took jellybean with her. sleeps in the drive-in and plays the good memories like movies behind his eyelids. still wears the beanie. eats cold cans of soup. helps betty with her murder board, because jason blossom is dead and there’s something different about riverdale. writes letters to j.b that never get sent. swallows bile when he sees archie and grundy. swallows butterflies when betty cooper smiles at him. makes a home out of a supply closet. writes and writes and writes down all the chaos in his head. drinks endless cups of black coffee at pop’s. unravels a mystery. befriends veronica lodge. that denim lined jacket he bought for six bucks at goodwill is fashionable, now. the beanie is not. kisses betty cooper’s scarred hands with his heart in his throat and so much feeling he doesn’t think he can stand it.

age 17.

leather jacket at the very back of the closet. a couple new scars, and a couple new tattoos. betty kisses all of them. j.b facetimes every night. f.p gets sober. manuscript in the bottom drawer of the desk, written on a typewriter. bartending shifts at the whyte wyrm. looks in the mirror and thinks, i am not a hopeless case. spends hours writing while archie plucks at his guitar. hickey under the collar of his shirt. pack of cigs in his pocket. smirk on his face. helps betty throw ronnie a surprise birthday party. still rides the motorcycle. still wakes up gasping from nightmares of snake tattoos and blonde hair and god, so much blood. still wears the beanie. drinks more milkshakes than he does black coffee. does things with his tongue that make betty gasp. the red and gold wins a prize for high school journalism. nyu acceptance letter on the fridge. the future- spread out bright and gaping and wide before him.

#yeah idk what this is either #jughead jones #betty cooper #archie andrews #veronica lodge #riverdale #riverdale headcanons #headcanons #betty x jughead #bughead #riverdale fanfic #mine #lmk if you want to see more!

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wanjeokhaeseo · 5 years

Text

I = SCENE TWO 💘

blog navigator.

day6 masterlist!

group: day6

member: young k

genre: unspecified

A/N: italics = english / emphasised words in korean / thoughts. you should be able to tell from the context of the story so idt ill go into that much :3

Coincidentally 2 years ago from the depressing journey to the party, Younghyun had never felt more lonely in his entire life.

The cacophony of noises that had emerged from the earlier silence in the classroom was needlessly to say, irritating. It was scarily ironic how Younghyun’s loneliness seemed to be amplified amidst the chatter, in spite of the amount of people that made up this area.

Time passed by Younghyun’s watching eyes cruelly, and bullets of jealousy seemed to thrust through his heart with every footstep that got further away from him. In a matter of seconds, everyone had already torn through the exit of the class and dispersed out into the canteen, the field; all the places that was no short of foreign to him.

He was the only one new here. He was the only one that didn’t have friends in the class.

He didn’t want it that way.

He longed to hook himself to the ends of conversations with witty jokes, just as the other kids did, and fill the hollow of his bottomless heart with human presence. He longed to have a friend.

A friend, not friends. He wasn’t asking for much.

Amidst the stillness that hung awkwardly in the classroom, Younghyun paced aimlessly around the area; the only thing remotely moving at all being himself, and the golden particles that floated through the window from the sun, descending gingerly on the sides of people’s desks like fireflies in the day. He moved around a little, dragging the soles of his shoes against the floor which made a funny rustling sound, but also made him feel a little less lonely.

He sighed.

Years ago, he was feeling homesick in Toronto, and now that he was back ‘home’, he’d do anything just to wish himself back to the other side of the world.

This place no longer felt like 'home’ anymore; in fact, nowhere did.

Younghyun watched the golden particles litter the plastic cover of his textbook, with a slight hint of sorrow in their seemingly gentle movements-and just then, he saw himself in those particles.

Floating around aimlessly, just trying to find somewhere that felt like home.

Just then, as his imagination flew free from his body, a voice resembling the likes of the school bell cut short his trip down memory lane.

“Student Kang Younghyun! You are not allowed to be in the classroom block during recess hours! Come out now!” the teacher-on-patrol yelled irritatingly, her old, faltering voice cracking between every syllable. Slightly shocked, Younghyun whirled around on his heel to face his dear, dear history teacher; only to find that her shadow had vanished in the blink of an eye.

With the newfound knowledge that there was no one else to watch over him, he rolled his eyes as he made his way to his desk, feeling an unusually petulant annoyance spark in him when the scenario replayed itself in his head. Of course it’s so easy for you to call me out, stupid teacher, he thought bitterly, you’ve never had the classroom as your only companion before.

As he continued to think up a flurry of very undesirable curses that he’d die to hurl at the teacher, Younghyun felt a hard, slightly rough texture graze against the tip of his shoes.

It was his guitar, leaning against the leg of his table and looking at him expectantly.

He hesitated for a bit before going along with his heart to pick it back up again, and for the first time in this school, he smiled softly.

“Guess it’s only you and me then.”

___________________________________

The strings were so rough with their occasional malice, but felt so much like home.

The only sense of home he had felt…

Since…

Coming back to Seoul…

Younghyun’s thoughts unfurled in sync with the slow movements of his fingers, as he languidly dragged his hands across the strings again once more, having a newfound desire to re-explore the instrument.

“Oh, sh-Ah, I’m not supposed to swear! Heck!”

At the familiar ringing of the whimsical American accent he hadn’t heard much-not since coming back home, at least-Younghyun could barely stifle a snort as he turned his head, trying his best to not show any traces of amusement on his face.

They were the lightest shade of soft strawberry pink, unequivocally resembling his scent as a strong, but sweet whiff of strawberries hit a disoriented Younghyun.

The guy had approached him, and as Younghyun felt the ends of his hair bristle like a winter tree, he redirected his eyes to the numerous folds in the guy’s hood, wanting nothing more but to plunge into one of them and disappear from any form of human contact.

Younghyun looked down to avoid his gaze.

The oversized grey cardigan was touching his arms.

“I’m in your class, right?” the guy talked in unusually decent Korean, getting Younghyun to look back up again as his small, excited eyes raised like ridges out of the sea. There was a flicker of dullness in his shine as his speech faltered slightly, like he wanted to say something but decided against it. “Sorry for suddenly approaching you, b-but I don’t think I have anyone with the same interests as I do, and well, I’m not the best at socialising, and that guitar looks pretty cool. That’s all.”

Younghyun allowed himself a small giggle, in hindsight better than the stifled snort from earlier, and after a few perplexed glances the guy caught onto Younghyun’s smile, realising how awkwardly he had halted the conversation.

“Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet.” he chuckled, somehow discernible with the quieter voice he had taken to, “I’m Park Jaehyung, and I’m a transfer student here.” He had unintentionally lowered his voice at transfer student, and Younghyun related.

“Kang Younghyun.” he started to break into a half-smile, meeting Jaehyung’s gaze with a softened, understanding look. He too, understood the struggles of fitting in here like a broken puzzle piece, possibly more than anyone else. “I’m a transfer student too,” he said with gusto, “-maybe we’ll get along well.”

With the newfound meaning of transfer student, the other boy returned Younghyun’s grin happily, as if he had made not just words but everything better with the tap of his wand.

“So, transfer student,” Jaehyung remarked, an evident smirk on his face as he thoroughly relished in the use of the word, and in the process drawing out a few laughs from Younghyun, “What sort of music do you like?”

“Honestly, anything. I normally listen to rock because I’m an emotional lit kid these days, but I guess British pop and what not is cool too. I got so many good songs in my playlist, you don’t even know…” Younghyun rambled on quickly about the thing he had loved the most as a kid, and the thing that had brought him to where he was today. “How about you?” he asked subsequently, eager to know what the other listened to too, and Jaehyung laughed at the excitement that flickered in his eyes; just the simple mention of music could really work wonders.

“Same, but these days I listen to…quite a bit of R&B and acoustic folk.” he replied, the gentle raise of his eyebrows establishing a faint hint of happiness. Then, out of nowhere and plain curiosity, he flicked a finger at the guitar in Younghyun’s hands. “Can you play that?”

Younghyun nodded before shrugging again; he wasn’t very confident in his skills, but he considered himself passable. “Yeah, kinda, I guess. I’m not that great, but I love doing this.” He didn’t even try to restrain a smile as his eyes dipped back down to the guitar, looking at it with a simple adoration.

It seemed to be infectious, as it had caught onto Jaehyung; who was, in turn, admiring the other’s passion, and feeling exactly the same way about music as he did. With a more evident excitement, he exclaimed, “Oh, that’s so cool! I play the guitar too! What’s, um, a song you’ve liked to play recently?”

Younghyun’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. He twirled his index over the surface of his chin, not knowing exactly how to answer; recently, he had been singing lots of songs to fill the bottomless in his heart, but he couldn’t really pinpoint a favourite. Eventually, for the sole purpose of giving Jaehyung an answer, he just decided to pick one of his all time favourites that he had ceased to hum a single note from-not ever since he left Toronto.

He didn’t really like talking about that song much. It was his very feelings of loss, or some would say, outright petulance before leaving his friends there.

“I like The Man Who Can’t Be Moved.” Younghyun answered blatantly, wary for the slight voice crack in the last word-he wanted to remain his composure in front of Jaehyung, at least just for their first meeting. He tilted his head down, not daring to make eye contact with the other person as he tentatively clipped his hands to the fretboard; but just then, he had second thoughts about it.

Did I come off rude? Do I look nervous? Oh crap, he’s going to think I’m weird-

“Can I hear it?”

Younghyun froze, pupils positioning in the exact core of his eyes.

“W-What?”

“Um, can I hear it? T-That is, if-um, if it’s okay…” Jaehyung repeated the question again, eyes drifting to Younghyun’s; seeing the horror in his gaze had triggered a subtle tentativeness in his voice. Nevertheless, Younghyun nodded vigorously in reply, whilst racking his brains for some good excuse to justify his actions.

“Of course you can.” he responded shyly, diffident smile baring the bunny teeth hiding in his mouth, “It’s just-it’s just-” Younghyun paused for a while, trying to gather his thoughts as he skimmed a finger through the strands in his hair, “This song means a lot to me.”

Younghyun shrugged, lips bridging into a small bump. “Hopefully it’s good.”

Going back to the corner, where I first saw you

Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I’m not gonna move

Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand

Saying, “If you see this girl, can you tell her where I am?”

Some try to hand me money, they don’t understand

I’m not broke, I’m just a broken-hearted man

I know it makes no sense, but what else can I do

How can I move on when I’m still in love with you

Cause if one day you wake up and find that you’re missing me

And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be

Thinkin’ maybe you’ll come back here to the place that we’d meet

And you’ll see me waiting for you on our corner of the street

So I’m not moving, I’m not moving

Younghyun, carried gingerly by the tether of his euphoria, let it disappear gradually as he held the last note, just for a little longer. The lyrics had brought back some beautiful memories, that he really didn’t wish to dampen with the selfishness that human emotions would always bring; they had hit a little too close to home for comfort.

On the contrary, Jaehyung had an eager, but somehow composed smile lingering on his face; like he had something beneath that enthusiasm but refused to show it. “You’re really good at singing,” he awed quietly, small giggles dovetailed to his speech and establishing a subtle amazement, “-and really, really good at English.”

Upon hearing the last line, Younghyun couldn’t help but laugh in good humour, slightly amused by the surprise that contorted his soft, demure features. “I lived in Toronto for 4 years. I’m not that great at English, but I’d consider myself fluent.”

Jaehyung’s mouth fell open in shock. “Wait, you can speak English? The way you say Toronto is very…accentuated.”

“Yeah man! You have a pretty evident American accent, I can tell you do too.” Complying to Jaehyung’s question, Younghyun gave him a rightfully English answer, and his smile only got even wider when Jaehyung’s eyes lit up like the Christmas trees back in his apartment overseas.

“Ooh, ooh, wait, hold up, my dude! I literally don’t know ANYONE who can speak fluent English. We’re literally, like friends now, oh my gosh.” Jaehyung started to rave, lips puckered in excitement as he spoke his first language with less stiffness than he did in Korean, “My Korean compared to the locals here is absolutely terrible. Like okay, I’m fluent and all, but I just can’t find the words to say to properly express myself, namsayin? Ugh, it’s soooo difficult to just get one sentence across to the teachers, and it’s so agonising as well whenever they lecture me about it, jeez.” Realising how his speech had been no more than an indiscernible string of gibberish, Jaehyung paused before tittering gently to break the silence, unequivocally shy about his habit of rambling off like a bullet train. “S-Sorry, I got too excited.” he said again, back to the quiet boy that the formalities of the Korean language forced onto him.

Younghyun waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. We can speak in English if you’re more comfortable with it.” he quipped. “Plus, I think I prefer seeing you like this,” he said with the small hint of a knowing smirk, and instantly Jaehyung’s features relaxed, figure further unfurling into the bench.

“Thanks man. Never heard anything more relieving ever since coming here.” he remarked, letting loose a few awkward laughs before adding hesitantly, “By the way, I think you could just call me Jae. It’s something that I’m more used to, and it sounds less weird in English.”

“Sounds cool. Jae Park, Jae Park. Damn, my homie, whatcha doin with all your swag?” Younghyun called in the most terribly exaggerated accent that resembled Jae’s way of talking, and both of them doubled over even harder than before. However, Younghyun had done so in slight embarrassment-why did he think it was okay to do something so cringeworthy?

However, as he moulded his face into his palms, he peered through the crevices between his fingers and decided Jae’s happiness was worth it.

The freedom in his eyes, the way that his voice flowed in English like the rapids of a river; it evidently showed that he felt at home speaking with such informality, with such slack in his voice. It was as if the sleeves in his cardigan that hung loose had unfolded its 'wings’ and flew from a cage that had once threatened to, and did imprison him.

And, for the second time in foreign ground, Younghyun felt a fleeting upturning of his lips, something that he could barely press down.“Best friends?” he had asked, but had said it more like a declaration as he jabbed his pinky into Jae’s face maliciously; startling the older boy whilst painting creases in his eyes. Still, being too happy over his new friend, Jae took it in good nature as he unhesitantly twined his pinky around Younghyun’s.

“For sure, my brother from another mother.” he declared with conviction, just as the recess bell struck to signify the start of something new. “Let’s get it.”

_____________________________________

sorry for being so inactive TTTTTT

#day6 #youngk #kang younghyun #park jaehyung #jaesix #when you love someone

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squishysvt · 7 years

Text

Kindergarten Teacher!Seventeen

Request: seventeen as kindergarten teacher?

Apologies for taking so long! My exams wrapped up today so I’m finally free :^) Enjoy this cute memey bullet pointed request! -Admin Madi

Seungcheol:

Would feel as though he is the real father of all the children AKA loves them all dearly and would literally do anything for them

Teaches the kids important life lessons & to be very respectful so they grow up nicely! But also teaches them to have fun & enjoy everything they do!!

Tells them really bad dad jokes that make them really giggly and hyper but also makes them question their own dads bc “why can’t you be as funny as Mr.Choi?”

Is really keen on making sure they all eat enough and are dressed warm in winter bc his children must not get sick!!

The type of teacher to pat their heads as they leave the classroom and tell everyone about all the cute moments that happened that day

Jeonghan:

Tries really hard to be liked by all the kids and whines to his friends when they don’t show him enough affection

Is really nonchalant when they ask him mundane questions,, “Is it true that Santa isn’t real?” “Mhm.” lmfao he wouldn’t sugar coat anything bc he doesn’t want them to be hurt when they find things out later on in life

He’d also be that one teacher you can depend on like can’t get that juice box open? Mr.Yoon will open it for you dw he’s reliable my man

Has a super close bond with his students,,when they can tell he’s quieter than normal or having a bad day they’ll make him drawings that he hangs on his fridge and keeps till he’s 80

Loves to compliment the kids on e v e r y t h i n g like you colored inside the lines? They’re showered with praise and genuine admiration

Joshua:

Incorporates all of the kids favorite things into his lessons ex) gives them gummy bears when they answer a question right,,makes math problems about cartoon characters and covers the walls in colorful posters

Is the #1 kindergarten teacher when it comes to crying/upset children,, Literally so comforting y’all he’ll crouch down and wipe their tears away and cheer them up with some lame motivational speech that the kids think is legendary

Is super clumsy like he literally hits his legs off the desks and trips on the tiny chairs, but is somehow incredibly gentle with his actions and words

Is super supportive of everything the children do and what ideas they come up with,,You want to be an astronaut? He’ll offer to help build a rocketship for you

Is that one teacher that is oblivious to almost everything that is going on yet continues to be everyone's favorite bc he lets them do whatever they want

Jun:

Ok I feel like kindergarten teacher Jun would take his job hella seriously like this guy literally walks in on the first day with a suit and glasses, hair gelled up and crayons ready to be dispersed

But his cool image lowkey intimidates the kids and so they ask him to stop with the theatrics and he ends up wearing black jeans and striped shirts the whole year bc relatable

He’s one of the advocators for the quiet kids and probably favors that one little shy kid who never speaks but is the sweetest thing on earth

Everyday is show n tell like if you want to show the class a rock you found outside 10 minutes ago be my guest

Is overly dramatic 100% of the time, his pencil broke *cue the deep sigh*, he spilt spaghetti on his slacks? *has 911 on speed dial* and lets the kids out early for recess

Hoshi:

Brings so much high energy and fun to the class that the kids literally never want to leave and won’t pry themselves off when their parents come for them

Wants to accommodate everyone's learning needs and spends most of his nights thinking of little things he can implement to ensure they’re working to their full potential

Pulls a chair up next to the children at those hella low tables during snack break and whips out his own lunchbox that he packed himself (it’s loaded with gummies)

Promises that they’ll watch a movie or have playtime if they do well on their work but doesn’t care if they fail bc he wants to see the care bears just as badly as them

Creates a class cheer or some catchphrase that they all shout when grouped together like the squad they truly are

Wonwoo:

Okay so being a kindergarten teacher was never in his agenda but he has this soft spot for kids and seeing that look of happiness that spreads across their faces when they understand/learn something!! It’s precious ok

Is super duper awkward at first bc yo, how do you handle kids? He was so stiff and monotone that the kids literally thought their teacher was a robot and spread a rumor which got to the parents and Mr.Jeon got a very concerned phone call from a handful of mothers.

Is a really organized teacher and loves sitting down with each child individually and helping them with their reading!! It’s so cute he keeps a little notebook to the side to document their progress and personally chooses which books each child would like :)

The children still think that he’s super mysterious and are genuinely curious about what he does outside of school. The fact that they even care that much for him makes his heart melt and he always tells them little facts about himself if they’re being good that day.

He basically goes from this really quiet reserved guy to the world's dorkiest teacher who gushes to his class about his favorite cereal flavors and helps them operate the microwave on the daily

Woozi:

An amazing teacher. Literally goes ham with teaching the class how to add/subtract and raises an army of tiny geniuses. He’s always so lowkey proud that whenever anyone praises him or his class he gets all red and flustered bc yes, he did that.

He’s one of those teachers that wants you to succeed in life and do well but honestly, his class is so cute and he loves giving them breaks where they just all sit in a circle and talk about toys and tv shows and eat cookies.

He’s a sort of closed off guy, but he never hesitates to get to know the kids better and what they like. He’s so genuinely interested that he spends most nights trying to keep up with the hip shows and terms the kids are using

Will never fail to bring in homemade cupcakes on everyone's birthday with their favorite color of icing and a card signed by the whole class for them! They all gather around with little party hats and have a wholesome time!!

Will never admit to it but cries when his class moves on to the next grade and he’s left with all those cute ass memories,, how is he ever going to get over them?? Send him a new batch pronto

DK:

Literally fits in with the kids like can he be classified as a teacher? Instead of taking breaks to drink coffee and adult he plays with toy cars and dolls with the kids on the floor at break time.

He never stops smiling, it’s actually so contagious his smile cures everything. The kids are so positive and content when he’s around that there’s hardly ever a problem with behaviour in his classroom

One of those teachers to have those periods where he gets each child to say a compliment about each other and it’s so cute!! The things they come up with are so pure that he wants to just adopt them all tbh

Probably strays from teaching half the time and gets them to do a lot of arts and crafts projects to give to their parents :”) but he adds in little life lessons along the way and why you need to be nice to everyone lmao no bitterness in this class allowed

Always struggles to open the milk cartons properly but doesn’t want to appear incapable so he pre-opens all of them to make life easier on everyone. Also always drops food on the floor, literally mark it down; every wednesday he will without a doubt sacrifice his slice of pepperoni to the flood gods

Mingyu:

I know there’s this running joke that Mingyu is nasty but honestly he’d be that teacher who makes you use hand sanitizer 24/7. The kids hate it bc it smells horrible and tastes awful but Mr.Kim isn’t taking any of that crap from the kids but opts to buy a scented sanitizer to compromise.

The kids come up to him constantly and tell him useless information but just love seeing how he’ll react to the news. Mingyu is so expressive and endearing that a kid could literally say they sharpened a pencil and he’d be like :OO

Listen, all of the mothers have a lowkey crush on Mingyu and everyone knows it- except Mingyu. The children drop hints all the time and he just laughs and shakes his head and hits them with the “Aha, cute kid.”

He’d help zip and button up all of the children’s coats before they go outside and tie all their shoelaces and watch them very carefully to make sure that they don’t get hurt!

Also always has band-aids on hand, whether they’re stuffed in his pockets or in his bag, he always has them in case of emergencies! He has a great variety too, hit him up if you ever want a Hello Kitty band-aid :)

Minghao:

The kindergarten teacher with great balance. He’s playful and bright with the kids, but knows how to properly discipline them when needed. He’s that one teacher who looks like a sweetheart but will not hesitate to snap and go off on you

Tries really hard to make everything really easy to understand but ends up confusing himself and talks in circles. Doesn’t know whether to correct his mistakes or just roll with it bc they’re impressionable children and won’t know the difference.

The type to put class photos all over the walls and door. He’s like a proud dad and wants to display his family for all to see. He really cares for the kiddies & everyone needs to know that he has the best kindergarten class on the block or else he’ll be really bitter.

Fumbles a lot with organizing lessons and getting things together, but mostly pulls thru by sheer luck and the help of the kids healing smiles and multiple coffee breaks.

Is really soft spoken and kind when it comes to the kids and jokes with them all the time. He’s the teacher with inside jokes over mistakes he’s made or things he’s said that has made the class laugh in the past.

Seungkwan:

Literally the #1 promoter, supporter, fan, you name it; Boo Seungkwan is it. Is literally head over heels for his kiddos and wants to shout out just how fond he is of them. Dressed up as a cheerleader on Halloween and did a cheer for the class which they adored.

Brings in different snacks every day for the kids to try and says it’s bc he wants to “expand their food horizons” but it’s really an excuse to extend snack period. No one is complaining.

Makes up those cute little catchy songs and rhymes to get things to stick in their heads. He subconsciously finds himself singing during his lessons but never corrects this habit, as it makes everyone listen more intently and happier.

Incredibly defensive when it comes to his children. Brings out every roast in the book if someone ridicules his way of teaching or scores his students got on a test. Insulting one of his kids is like murdering his parents, and Seungkwan is having none of that.

Literally bursts into tears when he sees them walk across the stage with their tiny little kindergarten diplomas and paper hats. Is so incredibly proud of their accomplishments that he ends up giving a 20 minute speech on how endearing the class was when eating their cookies with milk.

Vernon:

Still doesn’t know how he got the job or why he applied. He never wanted to be a teacher and yet here he was, responsible for 20+ kids and their future. Great decision on whoever’s part.

The kind of teacher who says “Umm” and “Uhh” constantly. Buys books online with pre-made lessons that he poorly executes. Shrugs most of the time and nods at everything he reads, as if literally anything suggested at this point would be better than whatever shit is in those pre-school agendas.

Is trying his best to not seem like he’s half assing his job. Makes Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the class and even cuts off the crust for the little monsters. Nearly ends up killing the kid with a severe peanut allergy. Learned that asking about allergies beforehand is a life saver.

Shows up to work in jeans and a t-shirt for a good 4 months before he was mistaken for the older sibling of one of the kids. His professionalism levels sky rocketed after that. Doesn’t come to school if he isn’t in slacks and a button up.

Believes that maybe acting like an older brother to the kids would be a more effective way of teaching them. Holds kindergarten council meetings once a week to lay down the law on where everyone is at on the terms of nap time. Crucial info circulates.

Dino:

Hardcore kindergarten teacher who lets his kids take 5 minute stretch breaks in between sessions. He interacts and joins in on the fun most days as they do wild activities like finger painting without smocks and cheating in hopscotch.

Chases the kids around during play time and pretends to be a dinosaur or monster to scare them,,Although he can be very mannerly when invited to a tea party.

Is the fun teacher who lets you have a prize from the treasure chest for answering a simple question right. Practically lives at the Dollar Store since he gives so many small goodies out in the run of a day.

Probably has a secret handshake with every single child in his class. Thinks that he’s hip with the kids for once, but is still a kid himself. Stays up super later correcting spelling tests he forgot at the bottom of his bag and loves using pen.

Shortened Math class in order to have time to dance everyday & has a playlist created for everyday of the week. He becomes the Ellen Degeneres of his classroom as he dances through the children and desks everyday at the same time.

#seventeen #svt #kpop #svt scenario #kpop scenario #svt au #kpop au #seventeen au #seventeen scenario #admin madi

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