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leejeongz · 4 years

Text

PETTY

genre: fluff w a tiny bit of angst, enemies to lovers

member: treasure’s jihoon

word count: 2.3k

never in your life had you realised how much you hated biology until you had to study the carbon cycle, which is pretty ironic considering you cared so much about the environment. you could tell your classmates felt the same way too, most of them were doodling or whispering or just generally looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.

“i’m not sure you’re all getting this” your teacher realised, giving up on her powerpoint and going to sit down “how about you tell me what the carbon cycle is. this can go towards your grade, this can be your presentation!” she got more excited with every word coming out of her mouth “present to me the carbon cycle! this time next week, dress nice, it's going to be recorded. okay, you can leave early for today, gives you more time to work on the presentation” she smiled sarcastically, dismissing you all.

dumping all of your stuff into your backpack, you sighed rather loudly. you teacher looked over towards you, the teacher you could have murdered right now. “i hope i get to hear that volume from you during your presentation y/n” she joked. she was a nice lady, well she was usually nice to you, you had a similar sense of humour, but she could be lazy at times, maybe it was because she’d already got her qualifications, as she kept reminding you all.

“hurry up” you looked up to see your seatmate haruto had waited for you and was planning on walking home with you.

both of you were pretty puzzled by the task since your teacher had told you nothing and so you decided to sit in the library until the end of the school day, trying to figure out what was going on, rather than going home and winging it.

“i mean, i think i get it now” he announced, looking up from his book which he secretly had hidden his phone in “i’d help you but i don’t want our presentations to be so similar that mrs ‘i’m too lazy to teach you anything so do it yourself’ thinks we copied from each other”

you gave him a dirty look, knowing he was joking. “well then maybe i will no longer be your seatmate, no more cute stationery for you, unlucky pal”.

“now now, don’t be too hasty” he said while packing his things up once again “my friend said he can help you”.

Haruto had been obsessed with setting you up these days, ever since you told him you were ready for a relationship, he’d been trying to make one happen. now was the perfect opportunity to hook you up with yet another one of his friends, it was an unlikely relationship, he thought, but who knows.

“who? which boy is it this time? do you even have any friends left?” you asked.

“his name is jihoon, he got an A* for biology so i think he’s qualified enough to teach you.” he presented to you his phone with a picture of him on it.

you knew exactly who he was talking about. park jihoon. the name sent shivers down your spine. he was the head boy at your school when you first moved there. you had such bad memories of him. he once “accidentally” spilled water all over your work in the library, he always told you off for your uniform being “a mess” even though it was always immaculate, you saw him litter on numerous occasions and to make things worse, he tried to a rumour that your old school had lice and that you’d probably brought them with you. luckily not many people believed him, a lot of people shared the same opinion as you: there was just no way he was a nice guy.

“yeah, i don’t think it’s gonna happen” you scratched the back of your head “people whose name start with j… i’ve been warned about them”

“literally shut up that’s the most pathetic excuse i've ever heard. i’ve just sent you his address and he’s already agreed”

you couldn’t really not go now… you weren’t a bad person like jihoon was so you didn’t want to let anyone down. you put on your school hoodie and some leggings in a rush to get to jihoon’s house on time, it was the other side of the city and you didn’t want to be late, especially considering how bad the bus service was.

when you arrived, you suddenly remembered how attractive this boy was and it made you even more unwilling to knock on his door, how could someone so mean be blessed with such a nice face? before you even had the chance to consider knocking, a smiling young boy answered the door.

“hi! i’m-“ he stopped, making eye contact with you for the first time. he stood tall in what you presumed was a new sweatshirt and jeans, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. “you? you want my help? is this some kind of joke?” he scoffed “i guess you can come in” he shut the door behind you while whispering “the audacity” under his breath.

you sat on his scratch free leather sofa, it was brown and matched perfectly with the freshly decorated living room, you gathered he’d just moved there, probably his first house. you thought it was funny how his cute hello kitty socks really juxtaposed the whole vibe of the house, a small smile forming on your face. you were so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t even realise he’d asked you a question.

“did i say you could sit down?” he asked sternly. you never really knew what you did wrong to him, you just kind of… accepted it.

“right yes sorry” you stood up and awkwardly adjusted the hem hoodie. “uhh so it’s on the carbon cycle and i have no clue-“

“i know what it’s on you idiot, i wasn't gonna agree if i didn’t, was i?” he interrupted “well are you gonna sit down then?” he asked only to receive an eye roll from you as you sat down again.

you placed your bag next to you and pulled out your laptop. positioning it on his coffee table, you failed to notice jihoon had already left the room.

“what’s that?” he asked, placing two glasses of juice on the table “is it from the 90s?” he asked, following it up with an extremely condescending laugh.

you looked up at him, the heat radiating off your face resulting from a mixture of anger and sadness. “what did i do? why have you hated me since day one huh?” you finally snapped, it’s a shame jihoon barely heard you though.

“i’m gonna presume you asked why i hate you and the answer is” he cleared his throat “your old school”.

your face had definitely cooled down by this point “my old school?” you laughed.

“as head boy it was pretty much my job to hate any other school and the students there, just a shame you were one i guess” he confessed, his stern face softened as he spoke. “it was petty really, but petty is my middle name so what can i say?”

“i can tell” you responded, eyes narrowing as a sarcastic smile formed on your face. “shall we get to work now?” you asked, not wanting to waste any more time with him because somehow it made it even worse that the reason he hated you was just your old school.

“oh did he not tell you?” you looked at him puzzled and shook your head. “tonight we were just supposed to get acquainted because i don’t have much time, i’m going out later and i want to look fresh for the ladies.” he pulled twice on his sweatshirt, that typical cliche “cool guy” action just suited him for some reason. “so we have like 3 hours that’s all.”

“what, 3 hours won’t be enough to complete this?” you could have cried thinking about it, throwing your head back when you saw that jihoon had shook his head. “i’m gonna have to come over again aren’t i?” you asked, dreading the answer you already knew you were going to receive.

“fraid so” he responded.

it took some time, but you finally came around to the idea, not that you had a choice, you couldn’t do this without him. you reached into your bag once again, this time pulling out your metal straw and placing it into the orange beverage on the table.

“ooo fancy” jihoon cooed, eyes following your hands. “let me get mine” he got up, dashing to the kitchen and returning with his pink, silicone straw. “save he turtles, am i right?” you naturally laughed along with him which you soon stopped when you realised you were joking? with park jihoon?

throughout the next half an hour there were countless incidents which were similar, only you’d begun to let yourself laugh. were you maybe finally starting to like this boy too? this is the closest you’d ever felt to liking one of haruto’s friends, it just felt weird that it had to be him.

as if on queue, you received a phone call from haruto. you answered sheepishly, not wanting to distract jihoon who was now intensely staring at his phone as if he was waiting for an important message. “hey ruto, can you text me instead?” you requested. before he could answer, you put the phone down. a few seconds later your phone chimed.

ruto 🍩: how is it going? made any moves yet? i mean done any work yet? ;)

you tutted as you read the message which caught jihoons attention. “what is it?” he inquired, getting out of his chair and moving your bag. he sat down right next to you and peeked over your shoulder. the intimacy was nice, you didn’t like that it was nice, but it was.

“a little privacy please?” you moved your phone from his eye line and turned to face the other way.

you: i kind of like him ya know? it’s too early to tell. i mean i don’t hate him now i guess 🤷🏻‍♀️

swoosh, away your message went. had you really just told him that you liked someone you used to hate?

ruto 🍩: interesting… i’ll have a word with him.

a certain panic set in, but you couldn’t do anything about it when you heard a beeping noise coming from jihoon’s kitchen. you suspected it was a fire alarm, the way he abruptly got up and rushed in there.

“it’s ruined” he shouted, there was a hint of anger in his voice that seemed familiar. you hesitantly walked towards his kitchen and asked what he’d supposedly ruined. “nothing it’s nothing, just go back and start working, we can do it in 2 hours if you work fast. are you capable of that?”. the soft jihoon that you were just getting used to had suddenly disappeared, it felt like a kick in the stomach and you knew your presentation wasn’t gonna be great now.

for the next hour or so you worked tirelessly on the presentation, now making a poster instead of a powerpoint since what jihoon wanted to do, you HAD to do right now. there was undiable tension in the air, neither of you wanted to talk about it but it didn’t stop you from being curious. an occasional phone buzz broke the silence, but neither of you checked your notifications. not until you once again threw yourself back into his sofa, this time your head was in your hands. you understood nothing going on in your poster and the “help” you were getting was minimal.

jihoon grabbed his phone, not really sure on what to do when he saw you.

haruto: yes jihoon, they like you now make your move

haruto: bro… ur silence is concerning what’s going on there?

he gently placed his phone on the glass table, slightly moving the oversized poster, brushing your leg as it moved and catching your attention.

he stood up from the carpet and sat beside you.

“i’m sorry i flipped like that on you” he whispered while his hand made its way to your knee. “we can come back to it tomorrow” he glanced at you.

“wont you be hungover, or won’t you be trying to shoo away some one night stand? i know your type” you sniffled through tears. no one had seen you cry before but for some reason you didn’t feel embarrassed.

“well actually i’ve decided to not go out tonight. i have a netflix account that isn’t getting used and i was wondering” he started, shuffling closer to you “if you wanted to watch something with me? you know, just to take your mind off things” his eyes widened looking back at the disastrous poster in front of him.

“maybe” you thought for a while, remembering what haruto said he was gonna do and realising he’d probably done it “on one condition” you smirked.

“what is it?” he flirted, prepared to do anything for you. by now he’d somehow managed to wrap his arm around your shoulders too, just adding to the ambiance he’d created in 0.2 seconds.

“tell me what you ruined in the kitchen” you begged.

“it was-“ he paused for a second, wondering if he should tell you or just show you. he pulled his arm from around you and quickly went to get the tray from the kitchen. “i attempted to bake some cookies in the shape of clouds and the sea and cows, but as you can see they are definitely not medium rare, more well done i’d say. i was thinking we could have filmed a little video with them tomorrow or something when they were cool as your presentation. kinda glad they burnt, why would i want to waste such a good idea on you” he emphasised the “you” and faked heaved, a teasing tone evident in his voice.

“we could still ice them or paint them or something” you enthused.

“anything to spend more time with me, huh?” he teased further, foreshadowing the future of your relationship with each other.

🔅please let me know what you think about this! i’m not really confident posting it so any feedback would be much appreciated! i also just wanna say that the character i made up for jihoon does not reflect him as a person! i’m sure he’s not an evil person irl i just wrote this for entertainment🔅

#treasure #treasure imagines #treasure fluff #park jihoon #park jihoon imagines #park jihoon fluff #jihoon #jihoon imagines #jihoon fluff #treasure jihoon

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yacoka · 3 years

Text

the journey back

iii. haunting sovereignty

character(s) — tsukishima kei, matsukawa issei, hanamaki takahiro

pairing — tsukishima kei x reader (and matsukawa x hanamaki if you squint a little)

genre — royalty!au, reincarnation!au, soulmate!au

warning(s) — none

beta(s) — @/doughnuts-5ever

masterlist

“It’s been half a year and you still get lost on campus,” Tsukishima teases as you flop into the seat beside him, dumping your bag onto the table with a heavy thump.

“Shut up,” you groan, slumping onto his shoulder. “This class is on a whole nother side of campus, and I’ve never been here before.”

Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, opting to respond with an aggravating hum and an unnecessarily loud sip of his coffee. Eight o’clock classes weren’t good for you, especially if you hadn’t had time to drink any form of caffeine. Leaning more of your weight onto him, you stare down at the table, eyes crossing in and out of focus...

“Alright class, get into your pairs!”

You jerk away from Tsukishima, eyes wide as you watch the class shift around. “What’s going on?”

Tsukishima straightens up from his position, rolling his right shoulder back. “Your head’s heavy.”

You shoot him a glare, and he sniffs, tilting the screen of his laptop towards you. “We have to do research and present on the history of Japan’s monarchy. The teacher assigned us to the Forgotten Years. It’ll be a difficult topic to cover, but I figured we’d be able to handle it.”

“The Forgotten Years?” You furrow your brows in confusion. “Honestly, did you even open the textbook to read?” Tsukishima sighs, and explains. “They’re the years that the majority information of the ruling sovereignty at that point of time was lost. Hence, Forgotten Years.”

Nodding, you read through the project brief. This might be a challenge to research on, but lost things always called out to you, and this was no exception.

“You know, my grandmother used to tell me her grandmother’s grandmother had sovereign blood in her, though I think she just wanted to say she had royal blood in her,” you muse, grinning at Tsukishima. “You think you could have royal blood? You certainly have the looks for it, and that haughty personality to complete it.”

He starts, a light blush spreading across his cheeks as he processes your hidden compliment. “Well, you definitely don’t have royal blood in you. I doubt royals are ever late, nor would they walk around with a toothpaste stain on their collar.”

Glancing down, you do indeed find the red stain of your strawberry toothpaste on your collar. You frown, rubbing at it furiously until it goes away.

“Shut up.” You grumble, glaring at the offending collar as Tsukishima snickers.

“You’re welcome, Princess.”

You slump into the sofa next to Issei, curling up into his side as he and Makki argue over dinner. Without missing a beat, Issei wraps an arm around you, and you watch in amusement as they continue to yell.

“We had that last time, and the time before that, and the time before that time! It’s my turn to choose, and I’m choosing the ramen store on the corner of the street!”

“Oh, you’re just choosing that ramen store because of that cute delivery boy,” Issei sneers, tossing a pillow at your now-pinked face friend.

“Wha-shut up, no I’m not,” Makki splutters, tossing the pillow back.

You grin, pulling out your phone and placing an order for pizza. They were never going to settle on dinner, not tonight at least. A text from Tsukishima comes in, and you reply to him, tuning out the two idiots as their argument progresses.

“Y/n, back me up- what are you doing?” Issei frowns down at you, snatching your phone away and squinting at it. “Is that a boy? Are you texting a boy?”

Makki yelps and bounces off his seat, practically landing in Issei’s lap. “She’s what?”

You scramble for your phone, trying to wriggle out of Issei’s death grip. “He’s just a friend, we have a few classes together.”

“Just a friend?” Makki says incredulously. “Do you give all your just friends emojis like his?”

You flush and jab Makki in his side. He squeaks, jerking up in Issei’s lap. Issei wraps his free arm around Makki’s waist. “Dude, don’t bounce around like that. Your bony ass doesn’t feel good.”

“Then get her royal highness not to assault my sides,” the pink-haired man argues back, going as far as to elbow Issei’s stomach.

“If Princess wants to attack you, then attack you she shall.” He winks at you. “I am merely her servant, here to carry out her wishes.”

“The Princess wishes for her phone to be returned.” You shoot them a pointed stare.

“Here to carry out most of her wishes,” Issei amends. “Sorry Princess, but we gotta see who this mysterious boy is.”

“His name is Tsukishima Kei, and he happened to be from the same prefecture we lived in.”

“Tsukishima Kei? His name sounds familiar…” Makki scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Show us his photos.”

You hold your hand out, staring them down. “I’ll need my phone back for that.”

Issei returns your phone reluctantly, and you go to his Instagram, flashing them brief photos of him.

“Oh! I remember him, he was one of the volleyball players on Karasuno. Defeated us in our final year of high school, remember that Mattsun?”

Issei glares at Makki, their third year still a touchy subject. “So what’s he like?”

“What do you mean what’s he like? Didn’t you just say you knew him?” You shake your head incredulously.

He waves a hand dismissively as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, as a volleyball player, not as a person. Besides, you didn’t see us hang around others much did you?”

“Mmm, that’s fair.” You sink back into Issei’s side as Makki rolls onto the ground, resting his head on your leg. “Well, he’s..., he’s a nice guy I guess?” You shrug helplessly.

At their prodding glares, you scrunch your face up and continue. “He’s smart, he has nice handwriting… oh, he has a mean streak, but it’s kinda funny I guess. He likes provoking people, and it’s quite funny to see people get worked up because of his comments. He gets this really pleased look when he successfully riles someone up, it’s kinda adorable.”

The duo stares at you in disbelief and you shift uncomfortably as the silence drags on.

“Someone has a crush,” Makki waggles his brows.

“Someone has a very, very big crush.” Issei corrects, his thick brows rising so high they almost meet his hairline.

You flush deeply and smack them both. “I do not! You asked me what he's like and I told you.”

They exchange incredulous looks and turn back to you in unison.

“Did you even hear what you said and how you sounded?”

“It’s okay Mattsun. You know what they say, denial is the first step to acceptance.”

“I do not have a crush on him, he’s just a friend.”

The doorbell rings then, and you jump up. “The pizza’s here, I’ll go get it.”

You silently thank the delivery boy for his fortunate timing, stuffing a little more than what’s necessary into his hands.

“Wait, when did you order pizza? I thought we were getting ramen!”

The delicate flower crown sits atop your head, a beautiful mixture of red, orange, and yellow wildflowers intertwined with each other. You wear it with pride and love, a bright smile shining at every stranger that walks past you in the cafe. Issei had made it for you this morning, with flowers he had illegally plucked from the park he jogs at.

It doesn’t take long for Tsukishima to arrive, perpetually in his cool composure and signature headphones. He usually greets you with a nod, but today all he can do is stare at you, stunned.

“What?” You touch your face self-consciously. “Is there something on my face?

The blond shakes his head, pushing his glasses up slightly.

“No, you just- you look pretty.” A light blush coats his cheeks, and you can feel an answering flush creep down your neck.

“Thank you.” You aren’t quite sure how to respond, having never received such an outright compliment from the snarky blond before. It brings to mind the conversation you had the other day with your boys, and your flush deepens at the maybe-not-so-outlandish idea of you having feelings for Tsukishima.

“Crowns suit you,” he says offhandedly as he settles down in the seat opposite you.

(Your heartbeat definitely does not speed up even more at this. Not one bit.)

“I bet you’ll look good in crowns too! Flower crowns in specific.” You send a wink his way, relishing in the blush that creeps down his neck and past the collar of his shirt.

(You definitely do not enjoy that blush of his, especially since you caused it. You just like seeing him ruffled, that’s all.)

Flower crowns must be special, as despite the flustered expression he sports, Tsukishima replies steadily, “I look good in many things, but I doubt I’d pull off this look as well as you do.”

Your mouth drops open at his smooth reply and he leaves you no chance to gather a retort before he gets up to order your drinks - he has long memorised your order at this cafe.

He returns with your orders and sets your drink down. It has a little flower doodled on the side, with a large loopy ‘Princess’ scrawled beside it.

(Tsukishima, of all people, you scream internally. Tsukishima Kei.)

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu tsukishima

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darqx · 4 years

Text

You stayed at home and it was awesome

Sometimes i forget i have things in my drafts |D In which Rire is also like ugh at this pandemic. Yes that title is a reference to BTD2 lol.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

He would actually be annoyed cos believe it or not social/physical distancing is not conducive to his modus operandi lol.

Rire during this time like:

But just think how fun things like Rire’s chase scene would be! \o/

Nope there are no plans for a BTD3, everyone is busy working on their own personal projects now.

There has been a misunderstanding here (which ok, fair XD) - human!Rire and DemonKing!Rire are separate Rires, they’re not the same person. To be quite specific human!Rire is actually the original and the Demon King version is an AU version. It’s briefly explained in my FAQ under the heading “WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF THE SAME CHARACTERS?“ |D

I was gonna draw Lady Rire’s hair in a plait for this, but then i realised i didn’t want to draw that much plait |D

Technically yes but they wouldnt have any definition/texture so they’d literally just look like weirdly pluffy shaped tentacles XD

Sometimes you guys ask me questions like this and i dont think anyone’s yet cottoned on to the fact that i’m not a gamer XD;

Yes, although courting another Royal can be a bit of a minefield (even if each Royal happened to love the other very much) due to political agendas. Most of the time if a Royal marries, their spouse is not a Royal as this keeps a preferable unbalance of power.

Is anything in the BTDverses ever really canon lol, considering all the integrated elements it’s made up of XD As i didn’t work on BTD2 with Gato and EP, that’s one way we threw a Rire cameo in.

That being said i do think with any meetups Rire would’ve had some kind of interest in his BTD1 cohorts, they are both interesting in their own ways after all >:]

I havent decided yet if this is a Rire reaction, or my reaction to this question.

Something like this:

Which is how i draw his hairstyle for his younger years

Cat

Hmm, piano; most likely picked up from his sojourns in the upper echelons of human society over the centuries

No XD

[from a previous answer dump]; this is v specific and generally i try not to answer this kind of specific OC stuff because i’d rather people like…have fun and use their imagination :d

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I really enjoy seeing fanart and fanfics so i wouldnt mind! Though you’d have to send them off anon, as i dont tend to click on links in asks from anon users or dodgy looking accounts. Another thing to consider is that i treat asks like that as private ones, so if you’d rather plug to more people i’d recommend making a post for it on your tumblr (if you have one) as opposed to just sending it to me!

Go on then 😏 Dont let your dreams be dreams! XD

Oh that’s a good one! Lessee you’d have to have the usual app stuff obviously (i’m not going to be too specific in most cases just substitute an app you think is pretty good for the generics haha)

like a good calendar app (for all those soul stealing appointments one has to keep)

world clock (maybe one thats a bit more involved than the default lol)

a beautiful weather app

google maps

spotify (listen to some nice jazz as you murder someone perhaps)

news app

a VPN and possibly Tor / Onion browser

one of those apps that tells you where good bars/club/eating places etc are

a few puzzle / strategy games, like Plague inc

For science hmm -insert SURE SURE face lol-

Tumblr is actually the place i usually throw stuff like that (thanks Tumblr, for being less useful at one thing now). I’ve kinda been toeing the nsfw line for a while anyway so there’s a lot of VERY suggestive nudity and stuff but not enough to get me in trouble atm |D

I’ve been thinking about maybe doing like a doodle account on Twitter but idk about their nsfw policies either...

Thank you! In my writings there are different made up species of demons with their own defining traits (eg Rire’s species are called Sollicio demons), so meeting another of your species would not be too unusual.

However as demons tend to recognise each other as being demons (according to my world law anyway, YMMV), a demon MC bringing Rire home would’ve been a REALLY stupid decision on their part cos they really should’ve figured out he was a pretty powerful one too much earlier XD

Rire: Like my status if you think i’m sexy

Ren: Like my status if you like Japanese shit

Lawrence: Like my status if you dont give a fuck

Strade: Like my status if you love to film yourself!

Cain: Do you like this booty? Like my status

Sano: If you like my serious face like my status

#boyfriend to death #rire answer dump #answer dump #art #doodle #whops lol #gaps between my answer dumps are a lot only cos i forget |D

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pvntherz · 4 years

Text

Love-struck Heartthrob

Summary: Catherine has a crush and despite being the “local heartthrob” her whole, she’s never experienced real love before.

A/N: this is just a lil somethin to break my writing funk since the last fic i remeber writing was the most recent part of the Hades and Persephone thingy (which i might add to/revamp) Anyways, stan Cathy with emotional stupidity.

Word count: 1245

💛💙💜

Love was a strange word and even stranger language. So strange in fact, Catherine Parr could never wrap her head around it. It was frustrating. All her life Catherine had a number of terrible names attached to her. "Playgirl", "heart throb", "vixen", "a tease", and most simply "a flirt". It simply wasn't fair to the poor girl. Years worth of ruined relationships and non stop name calling simply because she didn't like saying words she didn't understand.

This followed Catherine for years.

Hence being laid out in the middle of her bedroom (or the attic as anyone else would call it) floor surrounded by a mountain of books. Some closed, others filled to the brim with self made book marks, some even open and filled with annotations in a mix of messy scrawl and neat script. It was shocking to see-- Catherine had a strict "no books on the floor" policy and "no writing in old classical books" code as well-- However, in times of emotional distress, she had to let her own mistakes slide.

"Hey kid… wow are you okay?" Catalina peeked up through the attic entrance and flinched at the sight of her daughter's emotional drainage.

She entered the attic and maneuvered around the countless old classics littered on the floor. Catalina neatly stacked some unused notebooks and doodle pads and moved them to the side so she could sit down. "Come on, tell momma what's wrong." She pulled Catherine's head into her lap and gently ran her fingers through the dark brown curls.

"Niente è sbagliato." Catherine said softly and nuzzled into her mom's lap and tapped against her knee. "Just because I impulse bought a buncha books and I'm blasting my sad song playlist doesn't mean anything." She chuckled softly causing her mother to roll her eyes.

"Well that's what you said with Zoey, then again with that Ruby girl, also that Juno girl." Catalina raised her hand before her daughter could interject. "The first time." She sighed and shook her head. "So. Are you gonna tell me who's the girl and why you're so worked up about?"

Catherine shot up and turned towards her mother. "I- there is no girl! I may repeat a lot of things, but I meant it when I said I was done with all those little flings and heartbreaking shit! It's not the real me!" She huffed out and crossed her arms.

"Yeah I know, but no one mass buys a bunch of old classics such as 'Divine Comedy' and 'The Iliad' alongside books such as 'Jealousy' and 'Master your Emotions'." She squinted at Catherine's computer and chuckled. "How desperate do you have to be to go so far as to look at Apollo's love life?"

Catherine deflated and leaned against her mom. "I think..I get it now." She sighed softly. "Like this time feels different. I don't know what to do...what if I break her heart?"

"If you really do love her, you won't actually worry about that, dear." Catalina placed a gentle kiss on Catherine's forehead. "I know you may be feeling apprehensive about pursuing this person, considering your past relationships and all, but if you truly do love her, then I honestly don't see anything that's stopping you from pursuing her. I know you have a good heart and you're afraid to show it, but if you love her, I know that you'll trust her enough to let a little bit of your walls down around her. You care for her, and she cares for you too. So, nothing's stopping you, conejito. I just hope this girl makes you happy."

Catherine sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I just..I'm scared. She's just so nice and sweet a-and I really do love her. What if she hates me for having so many exes or like, I don't know, what if she isn't into nerds!" She nervously chewed on her knuckle only for her mom to pull her hand away. "Sorry…"

Catalina shook her head. "C'mon, you need to do something other than read a bunch of books and take notes." She stood and pulled Cathy up with her. "We're gonna make cookies." She chuckled as Catherine's face lit up. "See? Already feeling better."

They both climbed down the stairs and headed to the kitchen. Thankfully it was empty and clean. Catalina raised an eyebrow and looked at her daughter who nervously glanced away.

"Anyways, go and get the dry ingredients." Catalina pushed her daughter toward the cabinets and headed towards. She quickly grabbed two small bottles with 'AE' and 'VE' on them, eggs, sugar, brown sugar, chocolate chips, and butter. She placed everything onto the kitchen island and sighed, thankful she had not dropped anything. "If only I held you like that." She chuckled softly.

"What?!" Catherine turned around and furrowed her eyebrows. She placed the flour, cornstarch, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon on the kitchen island and glared at her mother. "So you're directly responsible for my shitty love life? I'll be seeing you court." She giggled playfully, then pulled open the drawer in front of her and took out two wooden spoons and a sieve. "Here you can do the yucky- are those almonds?"

Catalina looked at the jar in her hand and back to her then nodded slowly. "Yeah, for the cookies. Hey don't make that face, they're good!" She rolled her eyes and put the jar to the side. "Fine no almonds, but we have to put something else in these cookies. No one likes plain cookies."

Catherine shrugged and began measuring out all of the ingredients. "Well, we can add marshmallows." She hummed softly while sifting the dry ingredients as her mother mixed in the wet ingredients. "I really hope these marshmallows don't catch fire in the span of 10 minutes." She snickered and slowly added both mixtures to one bowl and mixed them together.

Catalina shrugged and sprinkled some flour on the counter and dumped the cookie dough onto the counter. "Here roll it out and cut it up. My old lady arms can't roll that damn thing out." She handed the rolling pin and went to the sink.

Catherine shook her head and laughed as she began rolling down the mountain of cookie dough. She glanced out the side of her eye and smiled. "Oh, hey Kitty! Do you got any cookie shape requests?" Her cheeks heated up the longer she stared at the shorter girl.

Kitty smiled softly. "Oh yeah! Do you think you can make some little heart ones for me?" She looked up at the taller woman. Kitty had her usual twinkle in her eye. Granted, it only ever showed up when she did something she enjoyed, but Kitty enjoyed a lot of things. "Hey stay still." She stood up on her tiptoes and wiped a smudge of flour off of Catherine's cheek. "Well that's all, I'd love to help but I got homework to do!"

Catherine stood there in awe, watching the other girl walk away happily. She shook her head and turned around and squinted at her mother. "I don't wanna hear!" She blushed deeply and covered her ears before Catalina could start gushing. "Lalalala! I'm not listening, lalala!"

Catalina rolled her eyes and pulled her daughter into a hug. "You're such an idiot but you're my idiot." She kissed the top of her daughter's head and ruffled her dreadlocks. "Now it's time to get to cutting."

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studyingoose · 5 years

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i’m always trying to find ways to lessen my impact on the environment but being a uni student means that most of the time i’m trying to find a balance between realistic long term actions and sustainability. so below, i’ve shared some of the ways i currently help lessen my environmental impact as well as some habits i’d like to slowly integrate into my life in the future.

bring your own water bottle - i think this one is pretty straight forward. i’m very lucky in the sense that my university provides a lot of refill stations. i usually pack my water the night before with my lunch so i don’t have to stress about it the next day. plus!! with my own water bottle, i can add lemon slices or mint etc. in winter, i like to use a thermos and bring honey lemon water, hot tea, or just not chilly water.

pack your own lunch - this not only helps you save money but also makes sure you know what you’re eating. i have a perfect sandwich sized container as well so it means i don’t have to use plastic wrap for anything. since i’m a vegetarian, most of my meals are pretty straightforward and feature rice, pasta, eggs etc. that i can buy in bulk with less plastic packaging as well.

bring your own utensils/keep cup - if you enjoy coffee, either sit in the cafe or bring your own reusable keep cup! my university is really conscious about this so all the nearby cafes let us bring our own cups and sometimes you even get discounts for not using single use cups. when i do go out to eat as well, i try to bring my own utensils so i don’t have to use the single use plastic (or even those wooden chopsticks) this also applies to straws for bubble tea or smoothies.

switch milks - i know a lot of people already have coconut, soy, almond milks with their coffee/tea due to lactose intolerance/other medical/personal reasons. many coffee shops do charge for plant milks but if they don’t then it’s an option since the dairy industry produces a lot of methane (also plant based milks are healthier). i don’t personally buy milk often because i don’t drink it so it’s not a big dent in my budgeting but if it is then don’t worry about it.

reuse notebooks - on top of recycling my scrap paper, i reuse notebooks that i never finished. instead of organising my notebooks in terms of papers or courses, i separate them by area of study so it means that i can use the same notebook for 3/4 years for politics or english. otherwise, i use the backs of notebooks to write practice essays, do past papers, doodle, do random brain dumps etc. essentially i treat unused paper in notebooks like loose leaf.

buy pen refills and do pen audits - find out what pens you actually use!! i know for me, i’ve felt pressured by the studyblr “aesthetic” to buy stationary that i don’t have a use for and it just results in unnecessary consumerism. i use roughly 10 pens at most as well as some art supplies but for my pens, i try to use refills instead of replacing the entire pen. in the future, i’d like to also stop using correction tape and be comfortable enough to just cross things out. i have to use a wide range of pencils for art but in general use, i simply own 3 mechanical pencils and refill the lead instead.

carry a reusable shopping bag - recently, my country banned single use plastic bags so now everyone uses reusable shopping bags or no bags. although you can buy brown paper bags for 20 cents in supermarkets, you never know what you’ll need to carry around so i like to bring a tote bag.

invest in a quilt - i am super guilty of getting cold really easily and that means i usually have the heater/thermostat on in winter when i’m studying but recently i’ve come to realise that i abuse that a lot. so instead of automatically going to turn on the heater, i try to see if i’m wearing enough first or getting a quilt to put on my lap when i feel cold. this way i don’t have to rack a super high power bill in winter.

change your mailing options - previously i’d get mail from my bank regarding bank statements etc. now i’ve opted for monthly statements online instead saving the paper that they’d use mailing me, similarly i no longer sign up for coupon books, circulars, random magazines etc.

thrift shop your clothes - i feel like this is a really big trend in my city but i’m trying to only thirft shop my clothes now instead of buying new. the thrift shops that i have access to are really good quality and it’s basically a reseller where people who bring their clothes in get 50% of the sale. this does mean that clothes are pricier than big chains like h&m but it also means that you have to think about the purchase for longer + a lot of the finds are super unique and will most likely last longer.

mend your own clothes - in a similar sense to thrifting, don’t just throw out a shirt because it’s missing a button. a 20 minute youtube tutorial can make sure that shirt remains a staple item in your wardrobe. plus sewing leads to darning your socks, knitting, crochet, or even making your own clothes.

consider epilating/laser hair removal - i used to go through so many plastic razors during summer because i was someone who preferred no hair. i know there are many people who don’t mind their body hair and that’s great! for those of you who do however, considering an epilator (multi use) or even laser hair removal (permanent). both are more expensive however they both also use less plastic (compared to fornightly/monthly throwing away of razors)

bulk make your own snacks - i really want to make my own museli bars in the future since i eat them a lot. usually i try to limit my snacks to things like carrot/celery sticks, fruit, nuts, berries etc. but i try to not get individually packaged snacks (they can be more expensive as well since you’re paying for convenience). this is definitely something i can work on but i’d like to be able to bulk make my own granola, museli, dips etc. in the future.

replant your vegetables - this is a lot more achievable for me since the place i live is rural in land style. currently my family has a multitude of fruit trees, tea trees and we’ve recently gotten into reusing our vegetable scraps. for celery/cabbage/lettuce/etc. you can replant the root area. the same goes for spring onions (which are super easy to grow! and garlic cloves!) most vegetables are quite easy to grow with just a bit of googling. even if you don’t have a lot of space but would like to give this a shot, consider adding some herbs to your indoors plant collection.

visit farmers markets - unfortunately, this isn’t that big a thing where i live but i remember going to a few as a kid and the produce is much fresher, the atmosphere is lovely, and it’s a good way to source food and products. many stalls also sell premade items like jams, sauces, baked goods, soap etc. so if you find yourself busy then it may be a possible investment to buy from farmers markets.

some other habits: composting, public transport, bicycling, bamboo toothbrushes, natural home cleaners, raising your own animals, beeswax wraps, cloth napkins/handkerchiefs, buy in bulk, use rain water to water your plants, invest in a menstrual cup, choose wooden over plastic

disclaimer: you don’t necessarily need to buy anything to be more environment friendly!! some things on this list do suggest it but look at your life currently, if you don’t drink coffee or tea on the go then there’s no need for a keep cup etc. invest in products, don’t just buy them because they’ve been advertised.also, i’d like to iterate that whilst climate change is a very real and very scary threat, personal use by the general population only results in a small part of it so please don’t feel like you’re letting anyone down if your personal situation or any part of your life prevents you from doing more than a few things to help the environment. as long as you’re not being dick to the environment and taking 4 hour showers, using 500 plastic straws a day then doing your best is enough. if you can’t do anything more in lessening your environmental footprint, then that’s okay. other people might be able to so even just spreading the news could help a lot.

if you have any other habits that you do not in this list then please tell me as well so we can all learn from each other !

happy learning everyone xx

#environment #study #studyblr #studyspo #studylustre #studypetals #heysareena #heycho #lookpat #eintsein #studyplants #studyquill #obsidianstudy #studyinspo #reference #resources

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senadimell · 4 years

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2, 7, 30?

Ooh, my first request!

2. Favorite underrated historical figure?

Princess Taiping/ 太平公主！ I wrote a paper on her and it was really hard to find sources discussing her in her own right. She’s a Zhou and Tang-dynasty figure, the daughter of the famous Wu Zetian, known as the only female emperor in China (Zhou being the single-generation dynasty established by Wu Zetian) She’s not someone I’d emulate, but man, she lived a wild life.

She instigated two successful coups and played politics like nobody’s business. All the while, she amassed landholdings and wealth. She was her mother’s right-hand woman: Emperor Wu* used one of the Taiping Princess’ plans to get rid of a confidante who’d gone too far by setting fire to a temple. Princess Taiping’s first husband was implicated in a failed rebellion against her mother and executed, but she was able to remarry and stay on the scene. In fact, we’re pretty sure her mother had the wife of her second husband assassinated so she could remarry him. I think it’s fascinating that she was able to stay on top during her mother’s rule, as two of her brothers were executed by her mother and two were ousted from power after being named successors. Later in her mother’s life, Taiping outmaneuvered both her mother and her mother’s head of secret police to coerce her mother into agreeing to oust him.

Eventually, she knew winds were changing in the court and her mother was falling out of favor, so she helped convince her to abdicate the throne in favor of one of her brothers, who I will refer to as Emperor Zhongzong.

It’s kinda complicated to talk about the crazy intrigue that followed her mother’s death, because practically all of her brothers and nephew all have multiple names: birth names, ruling names, and post-humous reign titles, so it can get a little confusing. So Emperor Zhongzong (sounds like jhong-tsong) came into power and his wife, Empress Wei, was also a strong political actor. She did not want Princess Taiping wielding that much political power, and Princess Taiping had lost her most powerful backer when Wu Zetian stepped down. Empress Wei wanted her daughter, the Anle princess, to hold power in the court, and even tried to have her named crown princess and heir, something unprecedented. That didn’t work and her son Li Chongmao/later Emperor Shao was named successor instead. It’s strongly suspected that Empress Wei and the Anle princess (sounds like ahn-leh) conspired to and successfully poisoned Emperor Zhongzong. The Taiping Princess lost no time in launching a coup, and in two weeks time both Empress Wei and the Anle princess were dead.

Li Chongmao didn't stand a chance. He was around 10-12 when this happened, and when people were still talking about who would be the new leader, she said “Everybody turns to the prime minister [princess Taiping’s brother, Li Dan, later Emperor Ruizong], little boy; this is not your seat.”** Emperor Ruizong treated Princess Taiping as a political equal and relied heavily on her advice.

Meanwhile, his son Li Longji grew in political power and prowess. She felt threatened by him, and participated in a smear campaign to limit his power. He tried to placate her appointing her supporters to government, so the government was filled with people loyal to her. Unfortunately for her, Emperor Ruizong’s advisors still managed to convinced him to exile her. Through her connections, she was still able to maintain power in the court.

In 712 ACE, Emperor Ruizong took a comet as a sign he was to step down (rather than eventually getting killed in the struggle between his son and sister) and announced his future abdication to his son Li Longji, temple name Emperor Xuanzong (shu-en tsong) which is how I will refer to him from now on). Aware of what this would mean for her, the Taiping Princess planned her third coup, an armed struggle to upend the soon-to-be Emperor Xuanzong, but was betrayed and discovered. She fled to a monastery, but was found three days later and permitted to commit suicide (seen as more honorable than execution). In the aftermath of the coup, all of the political leaders associated her were implicated by association and were executed or forced to commit suicide. Get this: that was all but one of the chief ministers! It took years for the state to completely appropriate her amassed landholdings and wealth.

*So Empress usually denotes a designated wife of an emperor (皇帝）. Wu Zetian went from a consort to empress regent to empress regnant, essentially. When Wu Zetian ascended the throne, she did some masterful religious and linguistic subversion to establish her legitimacy and came up with a lot of new terms and names to justify what she was doing, since it was unprecedented. Essentially, she was the female version of Emperor, but translating the linguistic titles is complicated.

**Sue Wiles and Lily Xiao Hong Lee “Li, Princess Taiping” Biographical Dictionary of Chinese Women, Volume II: Tang Through Ming 618 - 1644. Biographical Dictionary of Chinese Women.

7. Which time period would you like to live in?

Now. The current one. Go back too far even in the past century and I lose rights and privileges that I value, like the ability to dress as weirdly as I please, the ability to discuss issues of mental health and the #me too movement with women’s rights in general, the ability to work where I want, and the ability to openly practice religion. I would also miss conversations and changes within my own faith community about treating people of all races and backgrounds equally, church culture vs. doctrine, and attitudes towards church history.

But if I were a time traveller and could stop in a place for a vacation, I’d love to live in the early 1900s (1900-1920) and visit major urban centers for art, music, and to witness labor conditions and activism. Alternatively, if I were a time traveller I would simply attend live showings of my favorite shows and concerts (lots of musical theatre)

30. Favorite kids/teens history books:

Most of the historical fiction I’ve read takes place in the past 100 years, and a lot of it takes place in the 30s and 40s. I do have a rule for myself that I don’t seek fiction about the Holocaust--the things here are exceptions. I tend to read survivor’s accounts instead, though I couldn’t think of many novels in for this rec.

Between Shades of Grey, by Ruta Sepetys--gorgeous, heart-wrenching book about a girl in Lithuania sent to a Soviet prison camp in Siberia.

Code Name Verity and Rose Under Fire, by Elizabeth Wein--both take place during WWII. Rather brutal and play around with alternative narration styles.

The Devil’s Arithmetic, by Jane Yolen. I don’t know how to describe it. During a Passover Seder, Hannah Stern is transported back in time to 1942 Poland, during World War II.

Anything by Gillian Bradshaw (she’s more of a ‘dump you into the history hard and let you figure things out’ kind of author, which I love--I’m trying to get my hands on A Beacon at Alexandria. She also writes historical fiction set in antiquity, which I don’t see as often.)

Flygirl, by Sherri Smith about the WASP (Women’s Airforce Service Pilots). Tackles the racism of the era as well.

The Red Umbrella, by Christina Diaz Gonzalez, about the Cuban exile after the revolution of 1959

Esperanza Rising, by Pam Muñoz Ryan, about a girl who leaves her estate in Mexico and has to live as a migrant worker in California.

Uprising, by Margaret Peterson Haddix. This is about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire of 1911 and is a good introduction to labor issues and unions in US history. This book is almost solely responsible for why I don’t think Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them looks anything like New York at the early 20th century (yes, I know this takes place 10 years earlier, but conditions hadn’t changed all that much).

The Lightning Tree, by Sarah Dunster (not the book of the same name by Patrick Rothfuss). This one’s a bit personal--it’s a coming-of-age story following the story of a girl of Waldensian heritage set in Utah right after the Utah War (1858) and a year after the Mountain Meadows Massacre. It’s character-driven, lyrical and subverted my expectations of what would happen.

The Vanishing Point, by Louise Hawes. A fictionalized biography of Lavinia Fontana, a famous female artist in the Italian Renaissance. Considering how the art world is dominated by male artists, this was really neat to read, and also takes place further in the past than a lot of things I read.

Distant Waves, by Suzanne Weyn: Probably the weirdest book here, but just fabulous. It combines spiritualism, Nikola Tesla, Houdini and Doyle, H.G. Wells and the wealthy crème de la crème of the era with the Titanic.

Non-fiction

Yankee Doodle Gals, by Amy Nathan is about the WASP and is fabulous.

Teens at War, by Allan Zullo. Ten stories of teenagers at war throughout history.

Witch-Hunt: Mysteries of the Salem Witch Trials by Marc Aronson. One of the things I realized was just how much of an anomaly the trials were, as previously courts had been denying spectral evidence as a valid source of evidence.

Night, by Elie Wiesel. A personal history of surviving the Holocaust. Here’s the thing--if you can, read both the edition before his wife translated it and compare it to her translation. Her translations soften the hard edges of the book, which isn’t something I usually want if I’m reading about the Holocaust, but have been called more true to his words.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot. A moving and disturbing story about race, medical exploitation, the invention of vaccines, and poverty in the U.S. I don’t know if this counts as a teen novel, but I read it as a freshman in high school on my librarian’s recommendation.

Savage Girls and Wild Boys Does this count as children or history? It’s a history about feral children (raised by animals, etc) and other children raised in extraordinary circumstances.

Sort of history? It’s more modern. Never Fall Down by Patricia McCormick. It’s kind of a memoir of Arn Chorn-Pond, someone who survived the Cambodian genocide of 1975-1979 and was a child soldier. It’s brutal, but I recommend it to everyone.

This isn’t a children’s history book, but I can’t miss an opportunity to recommend it. The Rape Of Nanking: The Forgotten Holocaust Of World War II by Iris Chang is utterly heartbreaking. The Rape of Nanjing has hugely significant to cultural memory, and yet most people I’ve talked to in the states have never hear about it

As for children’s books, I read my copy of The Secret Soldier by Ann McGovern to death. If not for its length, it would probably be falling out of its binding by now.

I also read my mother’s childhood copy of The Story of Helen Keller by Lorena A. Hickok over and over again (first published 1958).

Survivor, by Allan Zullo. Compilation of stories from children who survived the Holocaust.

The Hidden Girl, the story of Lola Rein Kaufman written between her and Lois Metzger. After her mother is killed by the Gestapo, she has to hide in a barn to survive.

OH! ETA:

Rejected Princesses: Tales of History's Boldest Heroines, Hellions, and Heretics and Tough Mothers: Amazing Stories of History's Mightiest Matriarchs by Jason Porath are a fun way to get familiar with historical and legendary female historical figures. There is some swearing and description of all the sorts of things you can imagine have happened to historical women, but it’s organized by rating and type.

@brightbeautifulthings I don’t know if asking automatically tags you?

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artnerd1123 · 4 years

Text

A Familiar World

Coffee ——————————————

Following the move in, things are still a little tense in the apartment. So Aiden decides to try and get on Journal’s good side. What better way to do so than with coffee?

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

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At long last, it’s another chapter!!! I’m following the dialogue bits in “warming up,” and this was inspired by the second and third sets there. Gotta get these roomies on track to friendship. I got this finished in 2 days, but it’s been in existence for awhile, so! I’m glad to finally get it out here lskdjfs. Hope y’all enjoy!

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Coffee. Black as pitch, with just a touch of creamer. Not the expensive stuff, mind you. Just what one can get from a certain widely known coffee farm. Rindbell, if a familiar remembered right. And the creamer comes from the same place. Make sure it’s warm and well mixed. Keep it ready for breakfast, noon, and night. Anytime is a good time for this coffee. It’s a comfort, an energy source, and a favorite all wrapped into one. Easy to tell, as it’s what’s filled a skittish sorcerer’s cup for a few weeks now. Enough was gone that he was running dangerously low. The gentle scrape of fingers on the bottom of a can had greeted the apartment consistently for a couple days. And the sorcerer? Well, he wasn’t saying anything. His name might’ve been Journal, but he wasn’t about to be an open book. And he’d already established how he didn’t want his roommate worrying about him at all. “I’m headed to do some apartment shopping,” Aiden had said, a few days earlier. Journal had barely spared him a glance. It was one of the few times Aiden caught the sorcerer out of his room. He’d been making coffee, of course. The questor himself hadn’t touched the coffee maker thus far. It was one of the agreements they’d silently come to. Journal had the coffee machine. Aiden didn’t use it. That was how things were. So far. … And Journal didn’t seem to have picked up Aiden’s hint. He decided to be a little more direct. “... Do you... want anything? While I’m out?” Aiden ventured. Journal had fixed him with a withering look. “I don’t need you buying anything for me,” he replied tersely. Aiden quirked a brow, holding up his hands. “Alright. That’s fine. Just… figured I’d ask.” “... Whatever.” And so he hadn’t gotten anything. But now, with Journal’s stash coming to an end, the situation had changed. The sorcerer was twitchy and out even less. Cleary, he was trying to save what he had left. He didn’t want to ask for more, either. But he needed it. Aiden wasn’t about to let Journal go without it. He didn’t need to know his roommate well to see how big of a deal the drink was. And maybe. Just maybe. He could finally get on his good side.

Aiden was up early. He usually was, but it was especially important today. He had errands to run, and his roommate wasn’t one who liked to sleep in. Pulling his cloak around his shoulders, he cast a look around the living room. It was barely deserving of its name. The curtains were drawn, barely letting the sun’s first rays inside. The bookshelf was half full. All the novels that remained were shelved neatly. A news scroll was the only thing on the coffee table. One of the armchairs remained utterly untouched. If he hadn’t been sitting on the couch reading last night, he would’ve sworn the place was still waiting for its tenants. It was… discouraging. But he wasn’t going to give up. Not yet, anyways. “You ready to go, Roo?” the questor called quietly. There was an answering meow from the hall. The indigo cat familiar came into sight a moment later. Rubbing at his eyes, Roo yawned loudly. His patched cloak hung loosely around his neck, and his tail dragged against the ground. It was leaving a little paint trail as he made his way to his originator’s side. He sort of just… stood there. Blinking sleepily. “... mnnh… yeah,” Roo mumbled. “... les… lesgo…” Aiden chuckled softly. The familiar was always droopy in the mornings. “C’mere, roodle doodle,” he said gently, taking his paw. “We won’t be out long.” “Wha’eveh yeh say, dad…” Aiden let Roo out first before locking the door behind them. He had no doubt that his roommate would be fine if he didn’t, but the younger sorcerer preferred a locked door. Hopefully that would change sometime. I’d love having visitors over someday. For now, though, they were off to the store. Down the steps and out the front doors they went. Roo woke up more once they were outside. His tail twitched anxiously, and his ears pressed back against his head. He was walking as close to Aiden as he could manage. Aiden gave him a few reassuring pats. The kitty’s nerves were nothing new. The area was still unfamiliar, after all. “Not far to the store,” he hummed. “And we’re only picking up a few things.” “... ‘s theah gonna b-be… um… a l-lotta people…?” Roo whispered, eyes flicking from place to place. “Probably not. We’re up early enough to miss most people, but late enough for stores to be open,” Aiden explained. “... mnn… okay…” Roo took a couple shaky breaths. The tension slowly eased from his shoulders. “... okay. W-we got this.” “That’s the spirit bud…”

Shopping indeed went quickly. It took a little to find Journal’s preferred coffee, but Roo’s excellent memory had come in handy. Nothing like a detail oriented familiar to remember exactly what labels look like. Aiden also snagged a couple other things while they were out. Biscuits, for roo, and some veggies, for dinner that night. But that was neither here nor there. The purchase that mattered was the coffee. And what mattered now was getting home on time…

The originator and familiar found themselves on their doorstep once again. Aiden fumbled around in his belt pack for the key, grumbling under his breath. He still wasn’t used to keeping track of such things. At least he could manage holding a grocery bag and biscuit box in one arm. “Did yeh drop it?” Roo asked, brows furrowed as he shifted a bag of coffee and carrots in his arms. “I-I don’ see it on the floor out heah…” “No no, I’m sure I have it,” Aiden sighed, checking his cloak pocket. “I distinctly remember putting it away. What a time to remember my organization skills are lacking- ah!” His fingers closed around the small bit of metal, drawing it out. He gave Roo a wink as he stuck it in the lock. “Good thing my memory’s not as cluttered as everything else, eh?” The comment drew a giggle from the paint cat. Aiden nudged open the door, and Roo went scampering inside. Though Aiden held his breath going in, a relieved sigh was the only thing that came out. He could hear some noise from down the hall, but that was alright. The living room was empty, as was the kitchen, from what he could see. Aside from Roo and himself, that is. Good. They’d made it in time. “Take the coffee to the kitchen, bud,” he called softly, throwing his cloak onto the rack. “Already on it!” Roo chirped. He quickly skittered into the kitchen, his originator right behind him. Aiden busied himself putting away the other groceries as Roo climbed cabinets for the coffee container. He made sure to keep an eye on the kitty, though. All he had to do was dump the bag into the tin. But still. Roo was small. And the cabinets were high up. Plenty of opportunity for things to fall on him- or the kitty himself to fall. The sound of coffee beans gently clinking against metal rang out soon enough. From Roo’s little “mrrp!” it was louder than he’d expected. And… did it mask the noises in the hall? Or had they stopped? Aiden snuck a glance out the kitchen doorway as the beans’ clinking slowed to a stop. For a moment- just a moment- he thought he saw someone looking out from the hall. But his glance was over in an instant, and he’d nearly dropped a bag of celery. The questor sighed to himself as he got it set back in the cold cabinet. Hopefully what he saw meant their roommate would join them for breakfast. Turning back to the kitchen, he saw Roo half hanging out of another cabinet. The sight made him snort. Whatever he was digging for, he had several boxes on the verge of tipping onto the floor. He crossed the room quickly. “What’re you up to over there, bud?” Aiden chuckled, lifting him out. “I’m gettin breakfast!” Roo mewed indignantly. He crossed his arms, pouting as he hung in Aiden’s grasp. “I’m gonna have some’a the marshmella cereal!” “You sure you need sugar first thing in the morning?” Aiden asked, one brow raised. “Oh, c’mon! It’s not like I’m askin fer catnip!” Roo huffed. “Mmh… Fair enough,” Aiden nodded. He set him down gently, chuckling as Roo beamed. “Go have a seat. I’ll get it. You nearly knocked everything out of here just trying to get the box.” “Yeah, well, there’s no stools on the counter.” “Also fair.” Aiden shook out some cereal and marshmallows into one bowl for roo, and some cornflakes into another for himself. A snap or two left a milk bottle in his hand, and he poured some milk into the two bowls. He stuck a spoon in each before turning around again. It was when he carried them to the table, though, that he noticed someone standing in the kitchen doorway. Journal. He didn’t look any different than usual. Dark clothes, bright leggings, carefully smoothed and dutifully styled hair, pulled back in a ponytail. Though he still managed to look somewhat disheveled. It was probably the raccoon’s mask of sleeplessness on his face. The sorcerer seemed to hover where he was, uncertain about coming in. With the way his eyes flicked from the originator and familiar to the rest of the room, Aiden could tell he was still nervous. That was fine. He just gave him a gentle, warm smile, as he always did. “Good morning Journal,” he hummed, setting the bowls on the table. Roo gave a quiet thank you before waving at Journal. “N-nice to see yeh again...” Roo said softly. “... yeah. ‘Morning...” Journal mumbled. “... you too…” There was a beat of silence as they all looked at each other. Then the two turned to their cereal as their nervous roommate crossed the room. They’d give him his space. And if he didn’t feel like talking more, that was ok. Didn’t make the silence any less awkward, but still. Aiden couldn’t help but sneak a glance or two at Journal as he reached for his coffee container. Taking it down, the younger sorcerer fumbled with it. A look of surprise flitted across his face. Seems he hadn’t been expecting the weight. He set it down carefully, his surprise turning to bafflement once he took the lid off. It was filled to the top with coffee beans. Across the table, Roo was hiding a smile. Aiden hid one of his own. He’d wait for Journal to say something, though. Sure enough, he spoke up. “... did… did you… get me more coffee?” Journal asked hesitantly. “Hm? Oh, yes.” Aiden looked up before nodding. “I grabbed some while Roo and I were out this morning.” “... huh…” Journal eyed the coffee beans for a moment. Reaching in, he pulled out the freshly emptied bag. It brought a whole new layer of delighted confusion to his gaze. “Wh- how- how’d you know what brand of coffee I like???” “You drink enough that I figured you’d like black,” Aiden shrugged. “... that, and Roo saw the label. He helped me pick the right brand.” Roo chuckled timidly when Journal looked at him. Journal blinked, silent for a moment. “... oh. Well. Uh. Thanks,” he said haltingly. “No problem,” Aiden smiled. Journal gave him a small smile in return as he went back to his coffee making. The silence that followed was different than earlier. This was less tense. More… companionable. Just the quiet sounds of morning breakfast time with three roommates. It was… nice. For the first time, all three of them could admit to that.

When Journal finally had his coffee in a mug, Aiden and Roo were finishing up their cereal. “Good coffee?” Aiden inquired. Journal gave a small nod. “Good,” Aiden smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” “W… will we see yeh again today…?” Roo piped up. He fidgeted with his paws, looking shyly hopeful. “Besides when you come for more coffee, that is,” Aiden joked gently. Journal was silent for a bit. Considering. He swirled his drink as he looked between the two. Eventually he shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe.” Heaving a sigh, he started off towards the hall. “Depends how much work I get done today.” “F-faieh enough,” Roo sighed. “I-I hope that goes well…” “I’ll second that,” Aiden nodded. “Again, it was nice to see you, Journal.” Journal looked over his shoulder one last time as he stood before the hallway. “... yeah. You… you too,” he replied. “... thanks again.” “Not a problem, Journal.”

As Journal headed down the hall, Aiden and roo were still smiling. They’d done good this time. And, with some luck, AIden thought, I’ll get Journal out and about yet. For now… they had coffee. That was as good a start as any.

#afw chapter #my story #afw #a familiar world #aiden pingere #roo pingere #journal sherman drapht #arty writes #ayyy ya girl's finished another chapter!!!#after 60 years sldkjfsklf #i'm excited to start on these guys being friends--#i'll have some nettles letters to accompany this latest update sometime soonish #but! there's this for now #lskdjfs i hope y'all like--#*softly* and if u enjoy; rbs of my writing r appreciated...

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?”

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #trixie mattel #pearl liaison #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #shangela laquifa wadley

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jisssooyah · 4 years

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Hi you... if you were going to curate a little season of films for me, which ones would you choose and why? They don't need to be horror, I'm just curious what you would choose 🌸

I don’t know if you’ll like these movies, or if you’ve already watched them, but after i watched these films, i felt like they might need to belong to you now. i hope they make you smile, roll your eyes, and cry just as much as i did.

1. city of god (2002): this is one of the most immersive and gorgeously shot films i’ve ever seen. it’s set in rio de janeiro during the 60s and spans decades exploring the drug culture in the slums and how this can affect kids just as they are trying to figure their own selves out. the way this film is shot, feels like you were at the sea with them as the sand crunched underneath your feet. but the way that the director captures these individuals, makes you so fucking relieved that you don’t live through any of the circumstances that they go through.

2. the dreamers (2004): set in 1968, this film follows three students in Paris who come of age and explore one another and their limits during the revolution. while these students prop themselves up as individuals obsessed with sex, running underneath themselves is a current of jealousy, obsession, and blurred familial relationships that made me increasingly uncomfortable. you find yourself feeling bad for the children, and ultimately upset at their upbringing because of their parents.

3. if beale street could talk (2018): this movie is based off of james baldwin’s titular 1974 novel. in it, the director expertly and vigorously explores love: a love that feels so real that it hurts. the cast is what sold this film to me. the way they talk, laugh, cry, and smile at one another is achingly beautiful and terrifyingly sad. i wanted to transport myself back to their time period and watch the main characters fall in love because the film didn’t seem like enough.

4. the neon demon (2016): this film follows an emerging model who sacrifices herself to the demands of the industry in order to be attractive and beautiful. there are so many stunning colors in this film that it makes you dizzy, like you’re in a trance and that’s what this world is for the main character: a trance. as she oscillates between reality and fantasy, her world and the characters in it, increasingly seek out to alter her personality.

5. death becomes her (1992): a deliberately ultra-campy parody of trashy, pandering "women's pictures," soap operas and paperbacks from the '80s and '90s. The three leads all do some of their best work - it's hilarious watching Meryl Streep play a terrible actress, Goldie Hawn is particularly hilarious during her character's cat lady phase, and all around just a really fun and eccentric film.

6. princess cyd (2017): i can’t think of anything to write for this but i just wanna say that this is literally one of the most pleasant movie experiences i’ve ever had. so much light and genuine interaction in warm sun rays radiating positive energy and an openness that is far too uncommon in movies nowadays. people talk, people connect, people grow bonds and are allowed to be sexual or intimate or personal without an air of shame or judgement. just pure kind and curious human association.

7. spiderman: into the spiderverse (2018): the message of Spider-Verse is not "gentrify yourself! stop expressing your personality and just conform to what society wants you to be!" After all, what makes you different makes you Spider-Man, and Miles' final expression of himself as a superhero still retains much of his personality and individuality...they're just being used in more productive and fulfilling ways. It's the little things that drive the point home, like noticing that the title page for Miles' finished Great Expectations essay has been stylistically doodled and colored like street art. Rather than seeing his artistic gifts as an opposition to his schoolwork, Miles infuses them together to make the best of the hand he's been dealt.

8. my life as a zucchini (2016): initially heartbreaking and sad, but slowly becoming more joyful and heartwarming as the plot moves along. The film really feels like it captures the essence and child like wonder of these kids, all of them going through hardships but managing to find something to help each other out. It’s so refreshing to see the actual orphanage portrayed in a more positive light, not the usual horrid dump that a lot of lesser movies play them out as. The animation is stunning. One of the best uses of stop motion I’ve seen, everything is so colourful and detailed. There’s some moments set in snowy mountains and these look incredible. There’s clearly been so much love and care put into each and every scene here. The music too, sounds spectacular, it really works well with each scene.

9. lovesong (2016): Mindy and Sarah have that type of relationship where they don't need words because they speak in a language made out of glances and touches. This movie is about the fear of ruining a meaningful friendship and losing an important person, about love that is so complicated that one might not even try because the outcome seems to be so obvious.

10. her (2013): Heartbreak is formative: it changes you heart side out, and leaves your muscles a little stronger, your skin a little thicker, your bones easier to repair. Before this film, I’d never seen anything constructive in having your insides pulled apart by the seams by another person, but this film taught me how. Being in love and then being forced out of it is an experience that changes you fundamentally, but Her taught me its purpose – you don’t need them to leave you so that you can find someone who’s a better fit, because perhaps you never will. You need it to participate in humanity. The common denominator is being hurt, and without it, you’re barely alive.

11. shoplifters (2018): bittersweet and richly transportive, Shoplifters is a film that nonchalantly eases you into its tragic beauty in a way that doesn't punch you hard until the end. It simultaneously made me want to be part of the film's world and also very glad that I'm not. The setting the characters live in is messy and cluttered and full of dysfunction and lies, but it's also got family, and laughter, and fist-bumps, and slurping warm noodles while rain pings on the tin rooftop. So nuanced, so many tiny moments of delicate beauty and unassuming heartbreak, so many people making terrible decisions with good intentions.

12. god’s own country (2017): though it is a love story between two men, this aspect is only addressed briefly in a single scene. Rather, the film is about finding someone who makes you want to be a better person, someone who comes into your life just when you needed it most. Gheorghe helps Johnny open up and realize the beauty of the simple life. From this relationship, Johnny begins to feel comfortable with expressing himself, and his love and gratitude towards others. He also begins to appreciate life in the country, surrounded by stunning landscapes and the beauty of simplicity. Addressing the Yorkshire countryside, Gheorghe says "It is beautiful, but lonely." Johnny is presented with the notion that he doesn't have to be cold and miserable, slaving and drinking his days away. He is presented with the possibility of no longer being alone and finally finding happiness and contentment - and it is more than gratifying to see him accept it.

13. disobedience (2017): a tender star-crossed daydream. the three main character dynamics are special enough on their own, but the romance that blooms at the center is cathartically intimate and even magical: a reunion that feels so inevitable. catching glimpses of a past life, details we aren’t privy to. all the stolen kisses and whispers and promises. a bond so strong that they fall back in sync with each other like second nature, even if they try to fight against it. even if it won’t work. and yet they choose each other, even if for a few minutes.

14. raw (2016): this film is so gross and I like that. There is tons of blood and unique body horror and it all works perfectly for the tone the film is attempting to set. The use of color, specifically neons, creates a constant feeling that you are traveling through some sort of weird ghost world, which I really like. Overall, it's a very well put together film with flashes of brilliance.

15. the night is short, walk on girl (2017): what an absolutely magical adventure of a film. Essentially this is a heavily episodic look at a night in the lives of several people, centered on a woman and a man as she gleefully floats from event to event while he neurotically obsesses over how to "coincidentally" talk to her. The storytelling is incredible; while the overarching narrative is simple there are countless threads woven together to connect everyone in the story to each other. That in itself is a big theme: connections between people, how everything is interrelated, and what a large impact seemingly insignificant things people do can have an impact on everyone around them.

16. coraline (2009): Coraline is the best stop motion movie ever made in my opinion. Before the film released in 2009, I read the book and was completely blown away by its creativity and story. It’s a pretty dark tale featuring many scenes of fright that work well in both a horror setting and an animated kids setting. On surface value, this film is quite horrifying, which is something I’ve always loved about it. While it does make a few minor changes to the book, it improves upon a piece of art that was already jaw-droppingly good. Coraline feels like a real little girl with some real problems. She’s selfish but likable which is something most films cannot translate well. Of course, she has a pretty awesome arc as well which brings this movie to a perfect close for her character. The other-mother is also perfectly done. She is almost exactly how I imagined her in the book and the animation on her is spookily gorgeous. There is not one dull moment in this film. It is literally a perfect piece of cinema.

17. the third wife (2019): haven’t seen a film this visually delicate in a while. Ash Mayfair works with the looming mountain surroundings to make her characters —these women, these girls— as small as possible, as isolated as possible. Uneasiest of all is the protagonist May, so young and so weighed by responsibility, her position blurs between being one of the wives and being one of the daughters. It’s an extremely bleak tale of circumstance. An old tale, certainly, but so beautifully crafted it doesn’t matter. Mayfair holds a fearful tension throughout, and it only ever shatters in the cruelest of ways.The abundance of women and display of sisterhood begin as a comfort, but horror takes over as we realize how conditional and fragile that comfort is. Even the daughters are subconsciously aware, one of them praying to the gods to grow up and become a man, shearing her hair off in naive triumph. It’s a doomed cycle of girls performing roles which are unfortunately their best option, right up until the final scene of May with her daughter, still in their mourning clothes. She, like the older wives, finally realizes they’re the same as the cattle laying on their side for too many days.

#asks #shortcake-kaspbrak

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fluidityandgiggles · 4 years

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Dalton Big Bang day 22 - That’s What We’re Here For

Writing Masterpost, AO3 Link

Notes: Logan in therapy is a thing I care about very deeply and he needs a good therapist to help him out. Did you really think I'll write about anyone else in therapy?

"This is Dr. Blake's office," Johnny told Logan as they left the horrid medicinal smell of the office building and entered a room that could best be described as what would happen if a unicorn projectile-vomited.

Well, maybe he was exaggerating a little, but still! The walls were a light lilac color, decorated with fairy lights and childish doodles painted on colorful paper; the wall near the door had several bookcases on it, full of crafting supplies and tabletop games and books Logan didn't care to check out, and next to them was a white desk with two colorful chairs right up against the wall.

There were also a small coffee table and a light blue suede couch opposite the desk and chairs. The couch was covered with plushies and there was a soft blanket folded neatly on the armrest. That was the biggest offender in his opinion. That couch in particular.

On that couch sat a young man, about somewhere in his thirties, sipping a cup of tea and looking straight at Logan. He sported slightly messy light brown hair, in a way that still seemed intentionally so, and frameless glasses that sat high on the bridge of his nose; Logan believed that, had the glasses been different, maybe his green argyle sweater vest and khaki pants combo would look less nerdy and more… well, more like something. Anything, really.

"Dr. Blake," John greeted the man, nodding a bit as a courtesy.

"Senator Wright." His voice was calm, but as his face broke into a smile Logan could hear it change into something else. "And this must be John—"

"Logan."

"Yes, of course. Excuse me." As the therapist stood up, Logan could see him grab a cane he hasn't seen before, that until now was resting on the small table. At a closer glance, he could see the man's leg wrapped in a bandage of some sort. "It's nice to meet you, Logan. I'm Arin Blake, you can call me Arin, or Dr. Arin, or Dr. Blake if you so fancy, I honestly wouldn't mind."

"Yeah…"

"Don't fuck this one up," Johnny threatened Logan as he turned to leave. "Your psychiatrist recommended him to us. Don't make her regret it—"

"Actually, Senator, I'd rather you joined us today."

The man was already on his phone by then, but at least he didn't leave, which meant he listened probably. Still surprised at the suggestion though, which showed on his face. Logan just scowled as he went to sit on the truly offensive couch - as instructed by the doctor - and grabbed a cat plushie to hold.

A brown cat plushie, not too fluffy, with embroidered black eyes and a stupid expression.

Kinda reminds him of Julian. In a way. He's not sure which.

"In order to understand what we're working on here, I'd like to also hear your side of the story," Blake continued as he sat down in a chair in front of them. Johnny took the other side of the couch. "Can I offer you coffee, tea? Water?"

"Coffee is fine," Logan shrugged.

"To me as well."

"Just remind me for a moment, which medication are you prescribed?"

Logan may have rolled his eyes at that.

"Prozac, and I'm starting to take adderall soon."

"I see…" he hummed to himself as he got up and left the office, leaving Logan and Johnny in uncomfortable silence.

Dr. Blake's cup of tea was in a big blue mug, decorated with a print of tiny cartoon citrus slices. A clear plastic teaspoon stuck a bit over the top, and Logan inspected the little tag on the tea bag. Hibiscus apple cinnamon. Sounds fancy enough.

He just about took his phone out and started playing something when Blake came back, hopping on one leg almost, and put two disposable cups in front of them. Johnny's was a cup of coffee. His, though…

"I asked for coffee."

"And isn't this it?"

He took a sip. "It's… it's fine." It wasn't. There was too much milk, he could tell just by looking it. This was just a confirmation. "Thanks."

"So how about you both tell me why you're here?" The doctor sat back down in his chair, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know if you've heard in the news, but there was a fire at Logan's school—"

"Don't act like that's the reason we're here." Logan waited for his father to get red in the face. He always did. So he just leaned back and counted the seconds. "You brought me here because you think that everything wrong in your life is the result of me simply existing, and your only excuse to actually do it is that the people you dumped me on when you couldn't bother with keeping me around anymore can't look after me now."

"How do you think people would have reacted to my campaign if they knew—"

"Oh, come on, not everything is about your FUCKING JOB!"

"Okay, okay, Logan put that cup down." He did as he was told. After all, he can't fuck this one up, can he? "Now, without exploding on each other, please tell me what's going on."

"Logan's school burned down back in March—"

"February."

"—and he's only been getting worse since. He's always had anger issues, but since then he won't stop acting out. Usually over quite… petty things too."

Blake pushed his glasses further up, if that was even possible. "Petty things like what?"

"Like…" Johnny faltered, fumbling for words. So Logan spoke for him.

"Like that time last week when I asked if I can go visit my friend in California and you said I can't because what if his mom says no."

"Ms. Larson is a very busy woman, Logan. You can't just expect her to let you stay over because you wanted to on a whim."

"Well, I'm not five anymore, I don't think it really matters so much whether or not she can—"

"Let's stop it right there, again, Logan." Dr. Blake's stare made Logan curl up into himself. "Repeat that, now calmly."

Logan swallowed rather hard before talking again.

————

"Tell me a little about your friends," Dr. Blake asked at another meeting, about five weeks later. Logan sat on the chair closest to the desk, hugging the cat plushie again, and focused on drawing some flowers.

Lily of the valley. It was the only flower he could draw well. And isn't that just sad.

"There's Derek," he started, drawing the stems. "He… well, if he put half as much energy into caring for himself as he does for caring for me, I think the world would be a much better place. I think he's trying to compensate for this with girlfriends. It's kind of worrying, to be honest."

"But he cares for you?"

"Yeah. Sometimes a bit too much. It's… it's funny, actually, because… he really needs to work on himself. He can't fix me no matter how much he tries, because he's not some miracle worker and my mental health isn't fixable—"

"But it is treatable. And that's what we're here for."

"Yeah. I just… I find it funny, because he spends so much time trying to fix me that he's completely ignoring himself, and then he goes off and thinks having a girlfriend is a good replacement for self care. But I can't just tell him that… he'll get upset and then say it's not important and I'm just obsessing over it because reasons, and then when I get upset over not understanding he says it's my anger issues and I should be medicated."

"And why do you think he's doing this?"

This was the type of question that Logan quickly learned Blake loved asking. 'Why do you think', 'why do you feel', as if he wasn't the expert here. It was weird, having someone interested in his opinion without calling it anger issues and shutting him up, or telling him it's stupid and all that. He wasn't sure he could get used to it, but he certainly felt like he was, and it scared him.

"I think… I think he's just worried… he has anxiety, and I think he's reflecting it onto others because he doesn't know how to deal with it himself…? I know his parents don't know how to. So neither does he."

"And your other friend?"

Logan put down his pencil and picked a yellow one, throwing Blake a look.

"Julian is… he's cool. I miss him, I haven't seen him in months and he can't come over for vacation because his mother won't let him."

"Is he just cool?"

"I mean… he's one of my best friends, so… he's cool. He's very snarky sometimes… well, most of the time… and we talked about it a while ago, about why he's like this, and it was before revising my diagnosis, and he didn't really understand that I was insulting him back as a fight or flight response and he thought I was enjoying it… umm…"

Blake just pushed a mug closer to Logan. It was a clear mug, full of a bright red liquid. The hibiscus apple cinnamon tea. He made it for Logan today, as an attempt to get him to like something with no caffeine. Apparently coffee was bad for adderall. He assumed it'll be okay though.

"We're working on it now. And he needs physical therapy, so it's not like we really can do it in person, but we call each other every day and stuff…"

"You should visit him, then," the doctor suggested, making Logan snort.

"I don't think he wants me around… his boyfriend is there to keep him company. It's fine. Well… not his boyfriend. I'm not sure what they are. It's complicated, I think. Jules says they're not dating but they sure have a—"

"Dearie, are you jealous?"

He just laughed again. "Of Julian? Nope. Not in a million years. Of Sebastian? I… I don't actually know. I mean, he and Julian aren't together even if sometimes it feels like it, and Jules did say I'm his best friend and stuff, but on the other hand he makes him happy, and…"

"And being jealous is okay, so long as you put it into a healthy outlet and not into anger. Talk to Julian about it. See what he thinks and says."

"But… we talked about it… kind of… he said he's in love with me, but it wasn't at a very ideal situation, and… we agreed to not talk about it. Just… let ourselves work through it, figure out what we really feel… what he really feels… and then we'll see where we go from there."

"That's good. But ask him for clarification, okay? Don't make your head spin like this."

Logan just nodded along, grabbing a blue pencil to shade in the flowers themselves.

"So I think I'm going to visit Julian soon," he continues. "I'll ask Derek to join me too… maybe I can buy him a gift…"

"That's a nice idea. What does he like?"

"He likes… cats, and candy… maybe I can get him new sunglasses. I think he'll like sunglasses. Or coffee…"

"Is coffee a gift?"

"Expensive coffee, maybe."

The doctor just laughed. "How about starting small… what about flowers?"

"...I can get him flowers…"

"That you can. I fear we're running out of time, though." Logan looked up from his drawing, a bit disappointed. "We can keep talking about this next week too, okay?"

"Okay… sorry for wasting time like this."

"You've wasted no time, dearie. It's all good. Just remind your father to write me a check, yeah?"

————

Logan crashed on the blue suede couch and covered himself all the way up over his head the second he made it to Dr. Blake's office that day. Sure, he was still wearing his huge coat — New York was especially snowy this winter, like, much more than usual — but he didn't really want to show his face to the world, and the receptionist who asked him to wait earlier was on the receiving end of his panic attack. It wasn't fair to the others, and it just… it wasn't…

"Do you want me to make you tea, dearie?" Blake asked him, rubbing his back. He sounded worried.

Logan just nodded and whimpered.

"Okay… try to breathe while I'm gone, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four. Think you can do that?"

He nodded again.

"I'll be right back."

As Logan waited for Blake to come back, he started crying again. Winter vacation wasn't treating him too well, between fighting with Julian back at school right before coming home and getting yelled at by his father for flirting with the son of an associate (well, the guy was pretty cute, and certainly down to fuck) and probably the cherry on top, he was late. It wasn't as bad as the others, but he was late to this appointment, and he had so much to talk about, and…

"Logan, can you hear me?" Blake asked after what felt like forever, holding his hand. Logan whimpered again in response. "Come on, let's breathe together. I'll count."

He didn't even feel how long it took before he was sitting up, a second, weighted blanket on his shoulder, drinking his tea. Dr. Blake was still there, helping wipe his cheeks with a tissue as Logan tried to calm down.

"...Julian and I had a fight."

"Okay… what was it about?"

"I… I tried talking to him again, about… about us, and our relationship, and where does our friendship go, and he screamed at me that he's tired of talking about it and that I need to stop bringing it up, that he's with Sebastian and that's it, and then I yelled back and I… I may have slapped him, but…"

"That's bad, dearie. You know it's bad."

"I know! And I hate myself, I hate myself so much for doing this! He doesn't deserve a friend like me, I'm… I'm possessive and an asshole, and he just…"

"Okay, here's where you're wrong," the doctor told him, taking one of his hands. "You're wonderful, Logan. You're a great friend, and Julian didn't tell you he hates you. He didn't say you're terrible."

"But he implied it."

"He did not. It was an intrusive thought. What did Julian say, exactly?"

"...he… he said it's, he said that he's tired of talking about it, and that… that he already has a boyfriend, so I can't... " He hiccuped.

"Exactly… nothing about you as a friend. Open your phone and call him for me, okay? I want you to talk to him, and I want to see you do it."

Logan just nodded, a bit hesitant. He fumbled with his phone, trying to avoid looking at Julian's number, but ultimately he just… did.

Julian answered at the third ring.

"Hey, Lo."

"Hey…" he sniffled a bit. "I just… I need clarification on… on something." He looked at Blake for approval, wiping his eyes with a finger. Blake just nodded.

"Sure, what's up…?"

"Just… when we… had the fight. And you screamed at me and I screamed back, and…" Logan took a second. "Jules, do you hate me?"

"...are you high right now? Seriously. Are you?"

"No… I'm in… never mind."

"Okay... Lolo, I can't hate you. You're my best friend, you know how much I love you, but sometimes I can get mad or frustrated. Just like you do." He could hear the disappointment in Julian's voice almost. "I'm with Sebastian now. I'm happy with him. I love you, I really do, but you constantly asking me if I'm sure I'm happy and if we can give it a chance is getting tiring. I'm sorry, but it's getting really difficult."

"I… I'm sorry… Jules, I—"

"I accept your apology. I'm not mad at you, you don't have to get so anxious about this. You're starting to act like Derek."

"I'm still sorry…" he could finally take a breath, looking at his therapist for approval again. "That's… that's all I… I'm just in therapy, and…"

"Okay… go back to therapy. Don't waste time talking to me. I love you."

"Yeah… me too."

Logan hung up after that and turned to sip his tea, which has now cooled down.

And then the doctor spoke. "I'm proud of you. You don't need to apologize so much, you're doing just fine, but you did great. I'm so proud."

"Thanks." Logan forced a smile.

Maybe… maybe things would be okay, at the end of it all. He sure hoped so.

————

"I'm going to ask Julian out," Logan announced one day, two years into seeing Blake, just waltzing into the office. He may have caught his doctor by surprise, but as he sat down and grabbed his cat plushie, Blake straightened back up and cleared his throat.

"Doesn't he have a boyfriend, though?"

"Not anymore! And he said he doesn't want a rebound but then we talked about it and—"

"Okay, slow down. Let's start from the top. Julian broke up with his boyfriend?"

Logan nodded, then started rambling — "apparently they grew apart, at least it's what he told me, but I'm kinda pretty sure Sebastian cheated on him with Blaine? Blaine is my ex, he's kinda… meh. But yeah. So they broke up, like, three weeks ago, and Jules said he doesn't want a rebound so fast after the relationship, but I can build up to it! I can… I can start talking to him about it, right?" — all while Dr. Blake listened, nodding along to what he was saying.

"...okay… we can build up to that, then. I can help you do it if you're nervous about it."

"I'm really nervous about this…"

"Okay, okay, I can help. But first, how was your week? I made you tea."

"I saw that, thank you, but…" his stomach fell. "My week was so boring… college is boring. I have an exam in two weeks that I'm not sure I'm ready for, Alex had a mental breakdown the other day that I had to help with because nobody else was around, my dad visited…"

"And how is your dad?" Logan rolled his eyes at this question. "No, no no no. You answer me. How is your dad?"

"He still thinks I'm gay for the rebellion part of it. I mean, he'll get over it, I have faith in Michelle to make him change his mind, but… he and Michelle visited, and it was really nice. I missed both of them so much. But the second he saw my friends again he started talking shit, because Drew's voice dropped a lot since the last time they met and he started making transphobic remarks and it was… it was bad. It was so bad."

"Did you help Drew out?"

"Yeah… and then my dad got mad at me and we went into a screaming match. But it's okay, Michelle… did her best to get us to talk. I think he understands it now… not the gay thing, but… the transgender thing."

"That's good…"

Logan opened his phone right before the end of the session, as Blake was reminding him to remind his father to pay and that next week they'll talk in video chat, same day same hour. He nodded along, looking through to his messages to Julian — there — and getting up and out.

Lolo: I know you said you don't want to get back at it this early, but when you're ready, wanna go on a proper date…?

Lolo: also, can we talk about something? I have an exam soon and I'm anxious as shit

He kept staring at it as he went downstairs and to his car, watching the text on the screen dance with a pain in his chest.

J is typing...

#kylo cant write #daltonfic #daltonficbigbang #day 22 - therapy #logan in therapy is obvious but so good #logan needs help folksies #also his therapist is heavily inspired by bdg because why not

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 5 years

Text

This Is How It Feels (number five x reader)

A/N: i made it into a fic,, like a highschool au,, hope you enjoy like,, idk, u know them typical fics where its like ‘i dare you to graft them’ or ‘pretend to date’ and then then end up liking each other or,, i dunno. I got pure carried away sorry.(ok so i made some names up for people so, your best friend is: Beth and Beths older brother is: Dante) i havent proof read sorry :(

spazclaiire said: hii could i request headcanons or a fix of excuses five has used to hold your hand or ‘four times five had an excuse to hold your hand and the one time he went for it’ please? thank youu

words:3350

Books weighed down your arms as they spilled over the threshold of your carrying limits, they were heavy, a mix of ring binders and oversized textbooks were making you sway like a drunk man. People barging past in steady streams didn’t help your balancing act either, stumbling every few seconds hoping that the library got closer quicker.

Swinging open the door to the library your eyes scan the room for the table you and your friends usually sit at and by ‘usually’ you actually mean every single break you get, whether its just for 5 minuets or the full hour you get for lunch or free periods. The table in question even had all your names written on the underside along with other random scribblings and doodles. You make eye contact with a few people on your table as you get closer.

“Y/n, I’ve got some tea to spill, and it involves you!” Beth excitably suggests. Beth always had some new tea to spill, she was a see all hear all person, it also helped that her older brother was in the year above and in the group of the schools self proclaimed ‘bad boys’. She always knows what they’re planning, the who, what, why and where, she had it down to a T.

Speaking of ‘T’, any tea involving you wasn’t good, there had been drama circulating about you before and it took long enough for that to die down. You sigh, hoping it’s got nothing to do with the group of ‘bad boys’. “Go on then, spill.”

“Five Hargreeves has his eyes on you.” Of course, Five was the year above and one of the smartest students in the entire school. The only reason he even knew who you were is because his best friend is Beth’s brother and you were in his AP physics. He was also classed as the fittest boy in school with the worst reputation yet the cleanest slate.

“For god’s sake, why?” The last thing you wanted was for Five to actually care about who you were, he was a heart breaker, something that you just didn’t need.

“I’m not too sure, I haven’t heard much about the plan, but there is a plan so just be cautious. He’s probably after you because you’re fit.” You smile at her words. “Are you in the art building for lunch again?” You just nod in response.

You had been spending an increasing amount of time in the art buildings, it was just a soft and aesthetically pleasing environment to be in and it meant you’d actually get your work done. You could sit and draw for hours but with how hectic life was the art buildings was a safe getaway. So at lunchtime that’s where you found yourself, aimlessly painting the view out of the window, fields and trees and streams filled the canvas. You were in your own world, minding your own business.

“Your painting is really pretty, but not as pretty as you.” There it was, not only half a day after being warned about Five Hargreeves he was already trying to chat you up. He was leant against a wall behind you, scanning your figure and the painting. “And I was here thinking you were just a brain and a pretty face.” It was a pitiful, low effort attempt and a half-arsed compliment.

“What do you want, Hargreeves?” It may of sounded harsh but you didn’t want to deal with his bad attempts at flirting.

“Harsh much,” He jokingly placed a hand over his heart. “Listen I need a favour, all you have to do is walk out of this building holding my hand and pretend to date me for about 2 days maybe.” A shockingly fake smile spread across his face as he held his hand out.

“So let me guess,” You tapped your finger on your chin, mockingly thinking. “I’ll pretend to date you, you’ll win some sort of bet and then the best part is when you tell everyone we shagged then you dumped me right after!” You returned his bittersweet fake smile. “I’m going to have to pass Hargreeves, I’d rather not be apart of one of your silly little games.”

With a tut, he turned around to leave the block not before having the last word. “You’ll fall in love with me eventually y/n, they always do.” You could help but to scoff as he walked out of the room, he was too cocky, all the years he always had any girl he ever wanted to drop at his feet but not you.

Time ticked away slowly until it came to AP Physics, it was a brutal way to end the day often ending with being completely worn out. You were concentrating on rearranging the equations that needed to be used, it was going well until a piece of scrunched paper landed where you were writing. You simply brush it to the side and continue with your work, you had a faint idea who it was from seen as Five sat on the opposite side of your table of 4, ideal, you know.

“y/n.” His foot playfully tapped yours, causing you to roll your eyes. “Open it.”

So you did, only to be met with the more than classy words ‘my offer still stands ;)’ You couldn’t believe it, looking him in the eyes you pretended to ponder his decision, swiftly followed by tearing the note up and sliding it back over to him. Fives mouth hung open, you smugly go back to what you were working on.

Five was relatively quite for the rest of the class, resulting in it going much quicker than it normally would. He would sometimes answer questions but other than that there was no more chew from Five. In a blink of an eye it was time to go home to rest and recuperate from a long day of lessons, to prepare for the exact same the next day, the same as you do every day.

Five paced around his room, he hadn’t lost a bet yet and he wasn’t going to start losing them now. It was a simple bet, make y/n fall for him. Five didn’t particularly want to follow through with this bet, it wasn’t fair on y/n seen as she hadn’t done anything wrong to Five. Dante had only made Five do the bet as he knew Five used to have a slight thing for y/n, it was almost comedically convenient that Dante’s younger sister was best friends with y/n, Dante couldn’t help himself whenever y/n was around his house with Beth to make a comment about it. But despite all this, he couldn’t lose the bet.

The next day, Five had a plan, he knew that in AP Physics the teacher was about to set a new project to be completed in pairs, so naturally he went straight to the teacher. “Sir, for that paired project I really think I should work with y/n, we’d work so well together.” He practically begged his teacher.

“I’ll think about it Five, but if I do place you together, please make an effort to improve your behaviour. It’s your last year and you have such great potential, don’t waste it.” The spiel was met by a roll of Fives eyes followed by a muttered ‘sure’. Five regularly got this talk all the time, everyone says that he needs to focus his academic knowledge into something, anything, but he’s just not motivated by anything. Everything had either been invented or is being invented so there was just no point in trying.

The weekend drew closer with every ticking minuet, teasing you with every small movement of the hands, counting down like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. You were sat in your last lesson, AP Physics, took your seat and took out your supplies. You lazily observed as the rest of your class walked in, you gave and received a few smiles to and from various classmates until last person the last person in, Five Hargreeves, he waltzed into the room with confidence oozing from him.

Before Five had a chance to speak the teacher was already up and writing the title on the board ‘electromagnetism’. As soon as the words appeared on the board a collective groan of despair was heard throughout the room.

“So,” The teacher started, clearly enjoying the sudden drop in mood. “I know how much you all love electromagnetism, so what were going to do is work in pairs to create a powerpoint and a poster covering all the aspects of electromagnetism!” The room livened up a bit at the prospect of working with a friend, that was until the teacher continued. “I have put you in pairs, so listen in as I call the pairs out and then move next to your new physics partner.”

People moved about the room to sit next to their project partner, you listened closely to hear who you’d be partnered with this time. “Y/n?” “Sir.” “You’re with Five Hargreeves.” You see Fives face light up as he slides his books across the desk the the seat next to yours, the smug grin never leaving his face once.

You begin to write down what you had to do for the presentation, feeling Fives eyes stare into the side of your head. “So over the weekend can you do as much research on magnetic flux, flux density and field strength and I’ll cover BH curves and permeability, does that sound good?”

“Why don’t we just meet up over the weekend and make a start together?” He nudged your elbow, your pen run up your page, ruining the word you were writing.

“Can’t. I’m working all weekend.” Which was met with a small ‘o’ from Five, he turns way and messily scribbles on a sheet of paper and then slides it back over to you.

“Well if you can’t meet up this weekend then at least have my number.” You slightly smile and fold the piece of paper up and slip it into your notebook. Before Five could slip in another word the bell rang, signalling the end of the day. You say your goodbyes and begin the walk home, it was a fairly long walk home maybe reaching around 30 minuets but it was always a pretty sight to walk through the woods during the spring, pink petals from the cherry blossoms littered the ground, colouring the dull world waking up from winter.

Once home you stared at the crumpled paper with Fives number on it, also noticing the smaller scribbled snapchat username. It felt like a smarter decision just to add him on snap for now but save his number in your contacts, just in case. As soon as you added him he accepted within a matter of seconds, followed by a picture message ‘hey x’ it read. You simply send a picture back of your blank wall and place your phone down, you let a small laugh as your phone buzzes again.

Sitting at your desk, you pulled out your books and your laptop to make a start on the physics work. You just couldn’t help but check what Five had responded, clicking his name you were met with his face in a pout. You respond with a picture of you sticking your tongue out, which got a response quickly. This stream of photos carried on until the early hours of the morning not even realising the time and that in a mere 6 hours you had to go to work, you send ‘night’ to Five and place your phone on the side, a small smile on your face as you drifted to sleep.

Five laid awake, considering calling the bet off all together. Hours of talking to y/n only felt like minuets, Five wanted to get to know y/n on his own terms not on the terms of a bet. He shouldn’t of accepted the bet to begin with, his competitiveness got the best of him.

The weekend went far to quickly for your liking, mixed with work and school work. Five was also non-stop messaging you throughout the weekend, he found a way to talk to you about everything and anything, often sending long video messages of him walking round his giant house, you could always hear the shouts of his siblings in the background.

Monday nights were the one night of the week that you enjoyed, Monday was movie night at Beth’s house. The night usually went that straight after school you’d take over the living room, bringing out the blankets and extra pillows, you would both then decide what films to watch and what food to get. Once that was all done you’d both bunker down and start the movies, getting ready for a long night.

About halfway through the first movie Five and Dante slowly made their way into the main room, stealing some of your pizza before sitting down on the sofa to join you. Five took a seat next to you while Dante sat on an armchair, Five pulled your blanket so it was covering both of you, leaning back into the sofa you could feel physically how close he was to you and it was driving you mad.

Beth caught your eyes and wiggled her eyebrows, you responded by sending a cheeky wink with a joking smile. As the night moved on and the movies continued, you and Five slowly moved closer throughout the movie marathon, it couldn’t of been helped, you were both like two magnets.

The final scene in The Breakfast Club was playing, both Beth and Dante had already fallen asleep, you felt Fives hand touch the side of yours. You slightly push your hand back against his, welcoming the warmth as his touch, your reaction invited him to link his fingers with yours. Light from the TV bounced off the features of his face, defining his angled lines of his face, you couldn’t deny that he was handsome, very handsome.

The screen of the TV turned dark as you used the remote to switch it off, a dim glow of the moon shone through the open windows, the moment was romantic, overly romantic but it was the sleepiness making you ignore the voice that was screaming that he didn’t mean it, he had an end game and you couldn’t forget that.

You pulled your hand from Five and lean over to Beth and lightly shake her shoulders. “Beth, its 20 past 1, I think it’s time to go to bed.” She responds by making some unclear noises and began to sit up, you smile and stand up pulling her with you. You spare a glance back at Five before continuing upstairs, unable to stop the tingling feeling in your hand.

Eventually, you had to meet up with Five to work on the physics project, you both hadn’t spoken since Monday night. Well not exactly, Five had been messaging you a lot but you just hadn’t been responding because all you could think about was if he had a possible end game. You didn’t want to get played by Five.

You heard soft steps getting closer, you look up to meet Fives eyes. “Hey.” He spoke in a soft voice in the quiet library. He pulled a chair out from besides you and sat down, pulling his textbooks out of his bag. You both made small talk during your work, it was a nice atmosphere in the library, a nice atmosphere between you and Five with no looming pressure after what happened Monday night.

A breeze drifted through the large room, causing you to break out in goosebumps and shiver. You decided that morning that you could just wear a T-shirt with no jacket as the sun was out, how wrong you were when dark clouds swarmed over.

“Do you want to borrow my hoodie?” Five asked, but he was already taking it off to give to you.

“Oh no Five it’s okay, it’s my own fault I forgot my jacket. Anyways what would you wear?” Despite how cold you were you really didn’t want to borrow Fives hoodie, he would be just as cold as you were.

“No please y/n, take it. I’ve got an extra jacket in my locker anyways.” He pushed his hoodie into your hands. You could tell he was probably lying about it but you sheepishly took his hoodie and put it on, it was warm and you couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

You mutter your thanks, a warm flush coming over your face as you continue to work on your project until your next lesson. Once the bell rang, you both left to opposite directions, you completely forgot that you had Fives hoodie on until you sat next to Beth in english to be passed a scrap piece of paper with scribbled writing ‘That’s not your hoodie???’ you smile at the sheet and just write back ‘Five’s’

You didn’t see Five for the rest of the day until you got a message during the last lesson. ‘meet me near math class at the end of the day x’ It wasn’t a question, he was telling you. You send an ‘ok’ and continue with your lesson, constantly distracted by the ticking arms of the clock, counting down it’s last minuets.

As the clock strikes 3 you make your way to the math department, you were fighting against the tide as everyone rushed to get out of school. As the crowed begun to thin you saw Five standing outside the maths classroom, standing hoodie-less. He made his way towards you, smile present on his face.

“Where’s this jacket that was meant to be in your locker?” He just laughs and shrugs his shoulders.

“I mean my hoodie looks better on you than it did on me so I don’t mind.” You smile at him and begin your decent through the school. “So I was thinking we could just like, go for a walk? It’s just nice spending time with you.”

You both aimlessly wandered around town until finding a small cafe to reside in when the weather started to turn, Five had a black coffee and you had a hot chocolate. The room was filled with noise from others in the cafe and also from the outside world that couldn’t reach you in your own little world.

“Five, not to sound daft or anything but are you still trying to do this for the bet or are you being genuine?” You didn’t want to sound harsh but you were still unsure if this was genuine or just an oscar winning act.

“y/n,” He reached over and took your hand. “I called the bet off just before Monday night, as soon as I came to the school and saw you I knew straight away I wanted to be with you.” He ran his thumb gently over your knuckles. “I know you wont trust me right away but I want to make you trust me, I want you to feel the same way about me as I do for you.”

“Okay.”

All it took was that one word to kickstart your time with Five. It started small, handholding any chance he got, he seemed to always need to be close, holding and hugging you. He was so affectionate and almost touched starved, begging like a stray puppy. Five slowly gained your trust and love for him, he had an infinite amount of hoodies and oversized T-shirts, truth be told you were pretty sure Five just loved to see you in his clothes.

You and Five were cuddled up on your bed, he was running his fingers through your hair as light cut through the curtains, lighting the room in a heavenly glow. Five placed a kiss on the side on your head, pulling you closer as he did.

“Y/n, I think I’m in love with you.” You smile and lean into his embrace.

“I think I’m in love with you too, Five.”

799 notes · View notes

ayakashiramblings · 4 years

Text

WTFried Episode 3: KFC Otome Game

Bold: Gaku’s commentary Italics: Futaba’s commentary Normal: Official documentary narration (usually in a bad British accent) Bold and Italicized: Answers/Questions to the… game.

In 1910, the Capital, one man had a dream that he made another man work for. That dream would result in the exclusive Milk Hall. A chic cafe that would serve all manner of dairy-based treats… and making only one exception today. A day where we will reach deep into this bucket of…

Oh, Aoi! This logo is such a cute design!

How did you know it was by him?

Did… did you seriously think it was anybody else?

Point taken... Ms Futaba-rt…

Hush, Gaku. I’m just going to leave the drawing to the actual student.

Since everyone is craving for some turkey this winter, the employee has made the employer fetch some slices of this fine poultry. Everyone at Raccord is getting ready for the tender meat AND the festive season as we ring in the new year of 1911! Featuring buckets with the restaurant’s symbol… an old man!

And speaking of the devil, here he comes without… the turkey but some other manner of bird? Thus, Aoi has prepared to strike, dumping the bucket on the counter with a resounding thud.

“Erm… so remember how I said it was ok if I arrived at the turkey place slightly later than usual…?” A sheepish Oji's question can only be met by Aoi's deadpan conclusive remark,

“They ran out, didn’t they?”

Apparently, that was super insensitive because Oji-san has scrunched up his nose and eyes (the more normal ones) and…

Wait, how did you speak in parentheses?

"Nevermind that, somehow the narration was more offensive than Aoi's accusation." Oji’s fake-sniffling is thankfully interrupted by Aoi shaking the contents of the… replacement.

"I don't think it was harsh enough considering your blunder."

“No… it's just that the turkey place somehow became a chicken place! So the party pack is full of chicken!”

And just like that, the bells at the entrance have stopped ringing just as fast as the front door has been shut. And two hearts are now shattered into a million pieces. Why wouldn’t there be shattered souls after witnessing all hopes of savouring a Western classic slipping down the grease tracks of the fried chicken? The sound of the fat fizzing and splattering was supposed to be a welcomed one, not this… this… tinier bird. In particular, Ginnojo knows that he knows too much. See the look of imagining death and actually experiencing it? And Kuro! He’s pouting in slow motion, head down, shoulders slumped, and with an expression that clearly indicates he’s responding but barely able to because of the sheer despair consuming him… AKA, exactly like a puppy.

...Gaku, don’t zoom in on their faces. I’m already describing it, no need to rub it in.

Fine.

“Man, I’m sorry you two. I know you guys were looking forward to the turkey.”

“Old Man Oji, it’s ok! I’m just glad everyone is here to feast at least!”

Of course, the most ferocious growl has to refute that statement and it certainly has to come from an even more ferocious beast… Ginnojo’s disappointed stomach. Does he manage to hide the betrayal well with his stoic face though as the two neighbours/besties/??? eye the substitute meats?

Ok, really, there is no way you can tell me you spoke in question marks.

“I apologize too. Honestly, I should have checked beforehand.” Aoi concedes and offers a temporary white flag in the form of a kitchen towel to see the numerous chunks of fried chicken.

Could it be? The magic of fried chicken is soothing wounds of the past? Can the crispy chicken skin really fully resolve the dwindling festive spirit? Will it be just as great as its twin…

… Sorry Yura and Gaku.

“Be at rest, my Lady. I am sure a dollop of sugar or two is enough to fully restore the chicken to a turkey’s high status.”

I’m glad to see that the sugar dispenser I made is being put to such use, brother.

As Yura makes the sugar cookies even more… sugary, Aoi shakes his head,

“What now? We work with fried chicken? I’ve never really experimented with it before.”

“We… do need to finish this supply eventually. Might as well start now.” was all Oji can offer in this dire situation. Just as everyone is heaving a sigh, two majestic heroes arrive with…

A tengu as a sacrifice for the turkey my brother can never savour now. Crows are closer than chicken to turkey.

“Mhmm?”

“Nevermind, ignore him Kuya. Hiya Koga! Sorry you two, but we’ve only got fried chicken...”

And with that, Futaba witnesses the magnificent wingspan of the tengu… as he flies away at the mention of devouring a fellow bird. At least, he tried to but an oni ogre foils his meticulous plan by… grabbing his ear.

“Sorry about him. And even more sorry for Ginnojo and Kuro. I know you two were looking forward to the turkey.”

Nice job, Gaku! :D

What even is... you know what, nevermind. Thanks, I guess, and the mic’s back to you now.

“Really, don’t worry you guys. It’s more like Gin-Gin and I like the story surrounding the turkey in the festivals. The fried chicken just doesn’t have such an interesting story.”

The gramophone acts up at this precise moment Kuro tries to break the tension. As a wonderful person holds this strangely bulky camera while Gaku rushes to fix the audio camera, he finds that the cause is none other than his own customer… Oji-san with a record-breaking moment. Literally.

“Ok, wait, I’ve lived long enough to tell you that isn’t true. Why, I used to tell this story to Aoi when he was a little lad…”

And Oji-san whips out… a shopping list dated 5 years ago. Additionally, the crayon doodles are really adorable alongside the cursive handwriting.

“Yup, you told me a shopping list that I wrote down and YOU forgot.”

… Edit out my earlier statement.

… I’ll try.

“You know what? We have all this fried chicken for me and Aoi to do something AND tell you more about the tale of the fried chicken this time of year.”

And this folks, is what happened before we come up with the most amazing play…

Before we continue this documentary, we would like to thank our sponsors. Koga Kitamikado. This Oni Ogre is tough as nails and nothing ever gets him down! You can always turn to him when you're in a bind. A… tender bind.

… Why is Koga sponsoring this?

Guess he saw something… like how we are going to see two ayakashi experiencing the world’s greatest interactive play!

Tonight, Ginnojo and Kuro react to ‘I Love You, Colonel Sanders! A Finger-Lickin’ Good Dating Simulator!’. An interactive play scripted by Oji, you, yes you the audience, gets to play as a budding chef…

“Ooh, Gin-Gin is a good one… when you know, he doesn’t go bonkers on the ingredients.” Kuro’s chirp is nearly drowned out by the action at the back where we will be observing how our thespians are preparing.

Aoi and Oji have outdone themselves for this. We don’t have every single thing that you can purchase by queuing up but the menu prepared within 4 seconds is well-represented on this table. Sometimes, it is in a 3-piece meal, a few are in the buckets, and you get the overall picture! No double-dipping needed here, the act is too sacrilegious for such a holy beginning. A beginning… that will melt the frost around here.

Warm yourself from the inside. You’re about to embark on a journey that will end with you sleeping with this warm milk and pot pie….

Thus, these two can’t drink milk. Only eating the pot pie. We… we need them to actually play this.

“This is confusing, our journey begins with the ending?” Kuro asks a question that no one knows the answer to except for Ginnojo,

“Aye, a lot of the greatest heroes stumble upon their best stories after the ending of another. I suppose this is what we are trying to get here with… the pot pie?”

Scepticism is evident even on the usually trusting Kuro’s face. Nevertheless, they put their faith in Aoi’s culinary skills as they see the smoke still wafting from behind the stage curtains that are really just Kuya’s blankets.

AKA: Koga’s blankets.

Sure, the decor is a bit too… reminiscent of a chicken barn. And yet, observe the first bite taken by the Mizuki and the… other… ayakashi. Creaminess flooding each of their mouths as veggies and fried chicken come together in this glorious, crusted symphony. And at the very end of it all,

“Delicious.”

“Oh my gosh! It’s so good! The chicken, yum! More, please!”

As they chew contentedly amongst dozens of floating… chicken and biscuits… Yura approaches them with the most adorable signboard… and the weirdest customizable one at that. That’s right, we are featuring the talents of Yura and Aoi… for the second time in the latter's case.

“Welcometh, chef! Bef're we start, bid us thy nameth!”

Translation: Give us the coolest names you have Ginnojo and Kuro! Note: no explicit language or demeaning words are allowed.

“Oooh, let’s do a ship name, Gin-Gin!”

“I dislike ships. Especially the black ones. Why can’t humans just learn to be one with the waves?”

Thus, comes the most epic name ever.

Mammon!

“Like, Mama + Mon! Because, I dunno, it feels like a mum made this!”

“The Mon is an abbreviation of Monday, the day we are watching… I mean, playing this theatrical game.”

...

Should… should we tell them?

No.

With the dimming of lights and pot pie nearly finished, Kuro and Ginnojo move on to the chicken wings and munching sounds accompanied the sight of the protagonist… in bed. Since the protagonist is me. So…

I’m taking over the narration from this point onwards. Be grateful. And note… this is the game. So if it’s weird… do not blame me for it.

Oh hush, and get to your job.

Futaba is buried like one zinger in a tortilla wrap. Until the latest alarm clock that I have built with a custom ringtone goes off with the best sound in the world - that of a happy chicken. Sleep in or wake up? What should they choose?

“I’m concerned about the rooster.”

“Yes… but whelp, up and at’em is what I’d say!” was the only warning the poor alarm clock received before Kuro smacked the robot rooster with the goddamned whip of his, ruining hours and hours and hours of…

Don't be so offended, Gaku, it's just a game.

...

“Wow, I better get ready for my first day at the prestigious University of Cooking School: Academy for Learning!” Futaba says in a way-too-enthusiastic voice that is almost on Kuro’s level when he’s drunk.

“Ok, so I’m only familiar with Futaba and Aoi’s schools but I’m pretty sure no one would want that for a name. Oh! Let’s call it Cuddling Chicken School!”

Case in point because as I speak, Kuro and Ginnojo are now enjoying another treat with coke… that may or may not have been spiked. The main focus though is the box filled with delicious chicken and named after popcorn.

“This one’s the most processed. I don’t think I can take another bite. Oh, Kuro? You’ve finished yours?”

“... More like you finished yours and mine within a bite.”

For once, Ginnojo looked more innocent than Kuro was somewhat forlornly staring at his very, very empty container. At least now both could be more invested in the… plot of this play as our main character starts to get changed into a chef’s uniform, complete with an apron and a hat. All that is left to do is for her to actually move but she just has to ask,

“Hmm, I kinda want to daydream and laze about in bed.”

Of course, that’s challenging everything a former Shinsengumi member loves and knows so Ginnojo is quick to call my brother over to reject the option… except that Kuro is a bit more nonchalant about the whole affair.

“D’aww, let her, it’s so rare to see her relaxed.”

“I won’t deny that a girl her age shouldn’t be concerned with hard matters but Futaba wants to go to school. And I shall support her in her endeavours.”

“Except, this isn’t Futaba. She’s being Mammon remember?”

“Very well.”

And just like that, Ordinary Chef Student protagonist Futaba is late and doesn’t have time to sit and eat a full meal. She grabs a piece of biscuit, fluffy… unlike her missing deodorant.

“I knew she had a price to pay.” Ginnojo’s heavy sigh provoked a gasp of realization from his neighbour,

“Are we going to be fried?”

Alas, she was not…

HEY!

By the time she has thrown the biscuit at me, the setting has been changed to the ivory walls of UCS: AL… or the Cuddling Chicken School. And there, awaiting her is the ever-so-perky… BROTHER?!

He volunteered for the role!

Wow, I’m so proud of him! Wait, should I have auditioned… no, I’m just going to record every moment of this now.

Here comes the bestest friend in the world, Yura!

“Many thanks, brother, but I shall now don the name ‘Miriam’ and ask Mammon here if she is highly anticipating our term of 3 days!”

Ginnojo does have to voice out one concern that I am sure most viewers will have as well,

"Hold on, they can graduate in 3 days? Youth these days really are picking up new knowledge."

"I want a degree in English in 3 days. If I take the English food course in 3 days, will that count?"

Before Kuro can learn more about this miraculous development in education, Futaba has to continue with her dialogue and actually focus like my brother,

“Good morning Miriam! I'm sure…”

“Because I most certainly am! Alack, the breakfast I hadst did prepare this morn did not have enough love… whatever shall I do?”

As another branch of the game appears, the choice is rather evident…

COMFORT HIM YOU IDIOTS!

Finally, sense strikes the two, Kuro furiously slamming the option and poor Nachi as a result. Still, the nekomata behind the Option Board manages to signal to the other actors and Futaba barely adeptly gives my brother a pep talk,

“Ever since we were little babies together and you rescued me from that quicksand box, it’s been clear to me that you’re the most loving, caring person I’ve known! Your tiny… sweets are definitely going to be a hit!”

Part of the reason why this speech is not adequate enough is because Futaba is RUDELY interrupted when someone smacks her books and custom-engraved measuring spoons out of her hands and onto the ground.

“... Aeshleigh.” Futaba finally spat out, or whether it’s from deliberating drawing out the heavy silence to emphasize the sheer tension… or because she is wonder if Kuya cannot spell Ashley.

“This is the fancy name. For the fancy Ashley. Aeshleigh who is better than everyone else.” Ginnojo’s attempt at finding the reason for Aoi’s character name is ultimately thwarted by Aoi starting to get into character EXTREMELY reluctantly,

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, chicken shins.”

"Her boobs are not parallel at all." came Kuro's deadpan remark… and Ginnojo choking whilst looking like a boiled lobster. That, or because he is eating the Crispy Version of the Chicken breast.

“Kuro! Do not look there!”

“Why is she even insulting us for having chicken shins? She has chicken breasts on her thigh socks! Futaba, you should have actually worn chicken shin guards.”

…

Don't be so offended, Futaba, it's just a game.

Across the quad, one can see the rival’s best friend, who has stopped to look at his own reflection in the mirror. Pants so tight, anyone can see him casually working out his glutes while he styles his hair. No lie, they’re rocking glutes belonging only to one Koga.

“Ahem, Van Van?”

“You rang-rang?”

“Damn, Koga, you cougar go!”

“I’m curious about his hair, it’s actually in the shape of a starfish.”

“Don’t you just mean a star?”

“That can work too, I suppose.”

Sure, the pairing seems weird to the current audience but Aoi… I mean, Aeshleigh continues to sneer at Mammon who is slowly getting up with Miriam’s help but quicker with throwing the retort,

“I can’t believe that the University of Cooking School: Academy for Learning would ever allow people like you to attend as students.”

Except that it completely flies over both bullies’ heads as Aoi delicately laughs with icy cold teal eyes,

“Ara ara, so you do know. We should have gotten our diplomas already with these great skills of ours.”

“Or maybe hire us on as professors. You amateurs could learn a lot from us.”

With the first day of school about to start, there’s just not enough time to properly tell these two off so everyone else resists the urge. As Mammon and Miriam approach the door, they see a goofy-looking kid pushing hard against the window directly next to it.

“He would have been completely dislikable if it weren’t for the fact the cutest cub is playing him right now.”

On a more serious note, could someone like this also be a student at the school? He must be a great chef, with a name tag that clearly says ‘Bob’ but there he is, introducing himself as,

“Hi! I’m Kogare… Pop! And I think I was supposed to say that I broke this door.”

… And now I know why Fox-Face wants a copy of this film while he is attending Part 1 of the New Year Kitsune Festival…

When Mammon easily opens the door, Kogare… or Bob… or… Pop? Just has to tackle her for a big hug and squeal out,

“I LOVE YOU!”

“D’aww!” should have been everyone’s response but only Kuro’s was heard over Ginnojo screeching and of course, an epic debate about expressions of affection,

“GAGH! K-k-kogare! Do not touch a lady like that yet! Or profess something that serious until you are of age!”

“What? No! Hug her like you are squeezing the life out of her!”

Fortunately, the actors continue the scene. Unfortunately, it is with this line from Kogare Pop’s mouth that makes you wonder who allowed this writing. Money is on Kuya.

“Did you know my other name ‘Pop’ comes from my great-grandfather Pop pop?”

The critics are not amused, Ginnojo tutting and Kuro making a face like he had just tasted chocolate for the 32nd time,

“Days like these makes me glad I don’t know my lineage.”

“Yeah…”

“Is it just me or is that young gentleman cute?” Miriam tries to note but everyone... and I mean everyone... just has to say,

“It’s just you.”

Miriam and Mammon shrug their shoulders before following Kogare Pop into the building. They stand at the edge of the room, unsure where to sit. Other students wander in and keep themselves busy chit-chatting.

“Where… is the Colonel we were promised to romance for fried chicken? Even now we are stuck with cheese fries… nothing can make up for these soggy… Oh my gosh, so CUTE!!!”

Kuro only stops when he sees a scruffy-looking cat taking his place at a podium at the front of the class, the smallest chef hat on his head. Head Instructor and CEO of UCS: AL is here everyone! Nachi taps his paw against the wooden surface to gather attention… although Kuro is already cooing over the little hat on the nekomata’s head and even Ginnojo smiles a bit in approval.

Out of nowhere, the wind begins to rush around everyone as a swirl of cherry blossom petals fill the air inside the classroom despite it being in the middle of winter in Japan. To be more accurate, the petals are… Kuya’s feathers dyed pink much to Kuro’s delight,

“Nice effects! I kinda wanna play with them now! Guess I better wait for Kuya to fly and leave some behind next time...”

“Wait, the cherry blossoms are blooming for them? Where and when are they?”

A hushed murmur rolls through the classroom as HE walks down the aisle of desks. Suddenly, the room is sweltering. And there… we have Oji as the one, the only…

Colonel Sanders!

...

“I’m confused… are we supposed to find him handsome?”

“Did Oji just reveal his true aged appearance or did he just dye his hair white?”

“His eyeliner is as thick as his actual eyes and even thicker than his actual eyebrows and spectacle frames.”

All those statements were slowly cracking the fried chicken skin, with Ginnojo’s final casual observation really roasting Oji’s self-esteem. Nevertheless, the show must go on with the main chef and… love interest... helping the two audience members crack open the ranch. We shall now divulge in a bit of ASMR… ASMRanch as we massage Colonel Sander’s arm that is as thick as his neck. See how he flexes...

“OH GOD MAKE IT STOP!” Kuro squirms.

“FUTABA!!! I mean, Mammon, right, Mammon… MAMMON DON’T MIX WITH SUCH FILTH!”

… We are changing scenes already? Oh, ok, suit yourself.

Here, he wields the spork, his eyeliner game suddenly aligned…

“NO…!!!”

“It… is… rectangular. A rectangular spork.”

“Foon.”

Did that earn a… Kentucky-fried chuckle?

What’s Kentucky? Also, you broke character.

Think this play is broken. Oh, next scene...

The Colonel makes a delicious array of food items in the cafeteria...

“What kind of cafeteria has flowers and a fancy atmosphere?”

“Not Milk Hall Raccord except for the flowers.”

The Mac and Cheese falls flat on the ground, along with Oji’s chef hat,

“THAT’S IT! THE COLONEL QUITS!”

…

Ok, I’m going to resume while Ginnojo eats the rest of the food Oji has left...

Yeah.

And so, the wisest Satori Seer, on behalf of his boss, buries the abominable script and the actually-kinda-nice-art-if-it-wasn't-about-fried-chicken romance.

Hey, should we bury this camera?

WHAT?! AFTER ALL THAT WE’VE BEEN THROUGH???

Ok, ok, we won’t. Besides, there’s still Valentine's day if this show hits more than 1 view.

… Why the 1 view benchmark?

Cus… apparently, there was a dish here that wasn’t revealed here that would work great for a Valentine's Day episode.

… At least my brother can eat it.

Epilogue

For some reason, we have noticed a foreigner digging up the manuscript. He even paid Oji for it. Said it might be the next biggest thing in America for an even weirder reason?

Ginnojo is still eating the whole menu. Kuro has shared the magic of fried chicken with the rest of the troupe and occassionally, the circus-theatre guest. Unfortunately, it is during one of these stunts that a fried chicken cracked the lens. Even more unfortunate, the grease from the fried chicken seeped through the components and short-circuited everything.

So the only thing hotter than Colonel... is everything. Let’s hope we never see anything like this even in the 21st century.

Epilogue to the Epilogue

My grandparents sure were naive.

23 notes · View notes

ohblackdiamond · 4 years

Text

till it shines (peter/paul, nc-17)

"Look, I'm not gonna quit, I swear. If we have to end the tour, we have to end the tour. We get dropped from the label, we get dropped from the label. We lick our wounds and we try somewhere else. But until then, we got awhile in this hotel." "And no shows." "Yeah." During a five-day lull in concerts, stranded in an Atlanta hotel, Peter and Paul find a means to entertain themselves.

Notes: Inspired and based to a heavy extent on a very lovely, NSFW fanart concerning Paul's on-tour artistic endeavors. No, not the ones he showcases in galleries.

“till it shines”

by Ruriruri

It was the last day of the Gay Kitchen, with honorable maitre d's, cooks, servers, and busboys Peter Criss and Paul Stanley manning KISS' dwindling hotel fridge and supply closet. At least, it was supposed to be. Peter didn't know if after last night, it was still on the table.

At first, they'd really wanted to go all-out with the band dinners, but their budget hadn't permitted it. One last hurrah before they had to limp back to New York, with a single failed record to their names and all the notoriety of four strays in a junkyard. Back to Lydia for Peter-and Lydia wasn't so bad, Lydia wasn't so bad at all; she'd supported him through worse screw-ups and disappointments, but it was what she represented. A guy who still wasn't paying the bills four years into the marriage wasn't any better than a bum. She'd thought she'd found somebody who'd be going places. She'd been wrong.

For Paul, the prospect of going home was just as disastrous. At least, that was how he made it out to be. He'd get into these depressed rambles about his parents and his sister and his niece and how coming back just wasn't an option.

"Not an option? C'mon, you were in college, what, a couple of quarters-"

Paul had winced and licked his lips, a quick, nervous tic Peter had gotten far too accustomed to seeing as the band's money situation worsened.

"I only went a week. Don't tell Gene." And a swallow. "Look, it's stupid. I know. But I was born to play rock and roll, okay?"

"You're preaching to the fucking choir."

"I mean. if I can't do this, if I can't make this happen, I might as well not be here. This is the only outlet I've got."

Peter had rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to groan. Overblown as ever. Paul thought Peter was the dramatic one, the tetchy one, just because he had enough balls to address what was pissing him off instead of keeping it to occasional bitchy comments. Paul never seemed to hear his own whines.

"You think you're the only one with a dream around here?" Peter couldn't even bite back the rest. "How old were you when the Beatles got on Ed Sullivan? Ten?"

"Twelve," Paul had grumbled back. "Don't make this an age thing-"

"I was just out of high school. And I was already in bands-"

"Pete, I know, I know already. You keep telling me." Paul heaved a sigh. "You keep telling all of us."

"You've got to pay your dues, that's all it is."

"Got to pay your dues if you wanna sing the blues." The right edge of Paul's mouth was starting to perk up.

"Yeah." Peter tugged absently at his bangs, trying not to let himself get too good a look at what he'd been seeing since before he even auditioned for KISS. The semi-permanent dye they all used worked fine on brown hair, but past that first wash, it was useless on gray. The streaks were more obvious against the jet-black backdrop than they'd ever been when he left his hair alone. "Look, I'm not gonna quit, I swear. If we have to end the tour, we have to end the tour. We get dropped from the label, we get dropped from the label. We lick our wounds and we try somewhere else. But until then, we got awhile in this hotel."

"And no shows."

"Yeah." No shows for the next five days at least. Their last pitiful handful of concerts, they'd opened for some redneck band. Outlaws or something. That was another depressing thing. Peter had always expected to at least be friendly with the bands they were the lead-in for, but they'd only been met with indifference at best and hostility at worst. Never ended up opening for the same band more than a few times, either. It just made the whole tour all the lonelier.

He realized after a second that Paul was staring at him. The guy had a weird stare. Kind of like a broke bagboy waiting on his tip, or maybe just like a girl who was really hoping for a proposal. Big-eyed, eager, and not remotely calculating. It might have pissed Peter off, if Paul didn't always follow it up with an abashed grin once he was caught.

"You're thinking about something," Paul said, before Peter could make the accusation himself.

"Yeah. I'm thinking we all need cheering up."

"You need cheering up, Peter."

"You just finished telling me you'd die if you didn't make it, Paul." He paused, still staring at the fridge. "And fuck, I'm gonna die if I have to eat at McDonalds one more time."

"Well, they've got Steak 'n Shake here, if you'd rather."

Peter groaned.

"Not when you're in a fucking blouse and heels. The crowd thinking we're fruits is bad enough." Before Paul could even stammer out a protest, something about it being rock and roll, or about needing more practice in the heels-God, c'mon-Peter continued. "No. I thought we could make our own dinner while we're here. Really make it, not just sandwiches and shit. Real food. We got the kitchen for it. And it'd save Bill some money. You know how to cook, right?" He knew Gene didn't. Ace just wouldn't.

"I'd hope so. My mom started leaving us home alone when I was eight."

"Poor, poor little Paulie." Peter rolled his eyes. "We could-we could make it themed, even. Make out like it's a restaurant. Menus and shit. Invite the guys down for dinner."

Paul brightened, which surprised him. Usually he'd be sore for hours over the slightest crack at his expense, like some spoiled, anxious kid. But for once, he actually seemed excited.

"Like Italian one night, maybe? We could make pizza."

"Yeah, sure, lemme get a shopping list going."

After three beers apiece, they'd named their restaurant the Gay Kitchen, decided they'd act the part of its bent proprietors, and written up a menu full of double-entendres. An hour later, still drunk, they'd pooled their money and ventured out to town in jeans and the lowest of their heels. They'd bought twenty bucks' worth of groceries, which should have been plenty. Then they'd started in on meal prep.

Strange how fun it was. Especially that first night, working on a poor man's casserole, with the radio on and Paul standing next to him chopping up onions, his hands encased in Ziploc sandwich bags because he didn't want the smell on his skin, while Peter cut half-frozen chicken breasts into ragged little cubes. They'd tossed the whole thing into the pan with some salt and pepper, dumped a can of cream of mushroom soup on top, stuck it in the oven and hoped for the best. He knew they should've gone with canned stuff entirely, especially for the meat, if they'd really wanted to save money, but the Gay Kitchen experience demanded the expenditure. At least, that was their excuse.

Besides, Ace and Gene had loved it. Not for the food so much. Peter figured their dinners were decent, maybe even good, sometimes, but he couldn't kid himself. There was nothing impressive about a dessert course that included Hostess cupcakes "with fresh Cool Whip." But the makeshift restaurant had done the job. Cheered them all up. No one said a word during any of the dinners about the tour ending or going back home. Not a single word. And he and Paul had screwed around, too, acting faggy, hitting on each other and the guys indiscriminately throughout the meals. Last night, Paul had even groped his ass while he was mincing around plating everyone's food.

"I had to take him off the menu." Peter could've sworn Paul was deliberately making that annoying lisp of his even worse during each dinner. Pitching his voice into a whine, too. Some commitment. Peter had glanced up, questioningly, but Paul had just ignored him and continued. "You see why, right? He's got such a nice ass-all the boys were looking, I couldn't help but get jealous-"

"Course you're jealous. You dieted yours off, Paulie," Ace had retorted with a laugh. Peter had been vaguely surprised Paul didn't break character at that, just clicked his tongue disapprovingly, his hand still on Peter's ass. Not squeezing anymore, thank God, but Peter had still felt the ghost of Paul's fingers there hours later when they'd both turned in for bed.

Looking back, maybe that was where it had really started. Glancing over at Paul on the double bed next to his, watching him, knees up, with the pad of hotel stationery in his lap and a pencil in his hand, Peter had cleared his throat. Paul lifted his head from where he'd been scribbling.

"Yeah?"

"What're you drawing?"

Paul held up the stationery without a hint of embarrassment. The usual weirdly accurate assortment of veiny, disembodied dicks covered the page.

"What do you always draw those for, anyway?"

Paul shrugged.

"I dunno. Why does Gene refuse to shower?"

"Because his mom told him even his B.O. was sacred." Peter rolled his eyes. "You got a fixation."

"<i>You've</i> got a fixation. You're the one always getting your dick out."

"Getting it out's not the same as drawing it. . That's not even your dick. Whose do you keep on-"

"I went to art school, asshole." There wasn't much of an edge to Paul's words, Peter noticed. "Life drawing comes with the territory."

"In high school? Jesus." Peter cocked his head, trying to decide if Paul was bullshitting him, but Paul was already back to doodling, his eyes averted. "You ever gonna attach them to anybody, or are they just gonna keep floating around?"

"Well, I thought I'd attach them to you, but then I realized that'd mean I'd have to draw your face."

"Oh, fuck you, Paul." He didn't know why, but he got up then, moved to sit on Paul's bed. Paul stopped scribbling just long enough to shift over for him. Peter leaned in, vying for a better look at the sketches. Six, no, seven dicks, from a couple different angles, all varying levels of erect. The balls were so accurate it was almost disturbing. "Ain't even mine. They're too small."

"These are scaled down."

"The shape's wrong, too. Was that one supposed to be bent like that?" Peter pointed at the offending cock, right in the center of the paper. He kind of thought it was intentional. There was something uncanny about Paul's artwork-well, the dick drawings, anyway. His other offerings, at least the ones Peter had seen-splattery acrylic abstracts from his high school portfolio, and the occasional insulting cartoon of his bandmates on the back of a paper napkin-lacked that attention to detail. And that enthusiasm. It was weird. Forget the rockstar shit; Peter almost wondered if Paul's true calling was illustrating gay porno mags.

Paul shifted the paper, blinking at him slowly.

"Are you really critiquing my doodles here?"

"Well, yeah. If you're gonna draw dicks, at least don't draw them bent."

"What's wrong with drawing them bent? Some guys have fucked-up dicks."

"Who do you know with a fucked-up dick? Gene?" Paul's was fine. Smaller than his, sure, but there wasn't anything the matter with it. Peter got a good look at it in the showers after concerts, and during occasional threesomes with college girls that didn't qualify as groupies. Paul didn't care about nudity any more than he or Ace did, which was a relief. Especially since Gene was so weird about it. Months on the road and he still wouldn't strip down in front of the band. Peter had asked Paul why. Paul had said something about Gene going to some Jewish school and that giving him hang-ups, which sounded ridiculous to Peter. If Jewish school was anything like Catholic school, then it was a flimsy excuse for changing in closets and behind closed doors like some chick. Gene probably just had something terribly, shamefully wrong with his dick. Smallness or herpes or both.

"What? No."

Pete scooted over some more. Paul's posture was slightly stiffer than it had been before, but he still moved to give Peter room. Not that the double bed had much space to begin with.

"Does that mean you've seen it?" Peter wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue. Probably because Paul didn't seem all that uncomfortable. In fact, ever since the start of the Gay Kitchen, he'd been more relaxed, more talkative. It'd been nice. Peter watched Paul's lips purse for a second before he replied.

"Come off it. I don't have the right equipment for the privilege."

"Just eat some more and you'll get the tits down."

"Oh, fuck you, Pete." Paul jabbed his elbow into Peter's ribs, just hard enough for Peter to jerk back, but after a second he was scooting in closer again, just to prove he couldn't be nudged off that easily.

Maybe it had been a lower blow than Peter had meant to take. God knew the poor guy worried more about his weight than a chick. Lydia once said Paul was shaped like a rectangle. Just thick, straight lines from his shoulders all the way to his ass, and no definition anywhere. And he had been, but that wasn't the case these days. Paul had ended up with a bad bout of stomach flu about a month and a half into the tour. He would pull himself together enough to do the night's show, but afterwards, Peter'd had to listen to him get up, agonized and grunting, at two in the morning, and hear him retching into the hotel toilet. Paul had probably dropped fifteen pounds since then. Maybe more.

He looked better now. His abdomen still wasn't flat and he still cinched in his waist with a corset onstage, but Peter figured Paul did look a little closer to-well, whatever the hell a frontman was supposed to look like-and a little farther from the shy kid from Queens who drove the band's milk truck to and from gigs. Shouldn't be something Peter was already nostalgic about, especially since they were probably right about to head back to the milk trucks and ballrooms, but he was.

He could hear the scratch of Paul's pencil against the stationery. Paul wasn't going to retort. He'd just sulk and doodle more dicks until he got tired enough to turn off the lamp and tell Peter to get off the bed so he could sleep. Peter licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, and he spoke.

"You know what? Maybe you should draw mine."

He hadn't thought the comment through. It just splattered from the corner of his brain to his mouth. Maybe he was just trying to get a response out of Paul, see if he could come up with an insulting way to put him off, or if he'd just stammer out a refusal. Instead, all Peter got in return was a raised eyebrow.

"Your dick?"

"Yeah, my dick."

"You're volunteering?"

Shit. Shit, now he had to commit to it. Peter shrugged, somehow managed a tilted sort of grin, and leaned back on his hands.

"Why not? Least that'd keep you from doing all those crooked, veiny ones."

"Yeah, 'cause yours is fucking Adonis,' right-"

Adonis must've been some underground rocker only college kids had ever heard of. Peter wasn't about to admit to his own ignorance.

"Nobody's complained yet. C'mon, Paulie, how about it?"

Paul hesitated visibly. Peter almost didn't think he was going to agree to it. Too nerved-out by the suggestion. But then Paul nodded, his black curls-somewhat limper without the Aquanet and teasing brush forcing them into bushy, puffy proportions-bouncing slightly as he did.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

Peter yanked off the ratty pajama pants that were all he ever went to bed in, tossing them to the floor. Turned around so he was facing Paul head-on, legs stretched in front of him. He could feel Paul staring at his face, and then at his cock, as he tore out the doodle-covered paper and started on the fresh one beneath. He hadn't gotten more than a few scribbles in when Peter realized-

"Hey, wait a minute. You're not drawing it soft."

"I'm just gonna draw what I see."

"No, you aren't. Hang on."

"Hang on?"

Paul blinked, the beginnings of a mild smirk edging across his face. The expression didn't really sit right on him, somehow. Paul's mouth seemed to Peter to only really look okay when it was either pursed in a pout or spread in a hopeless kind of smile.

Luckily, that smirk of his dissolved as soon as Peter closed his hand around his dick, starting to pump. He didn't look at Paul while he was doing it, not at first, his gaze veering more towards the pad of paper and the burnt orange florals of the covers. His breath wasn't hitching yet, but the pleasure was starting to seep through on practiced automatic. A little harder. A little faster, and Peter's brow was furrowing, eyes glazed, focus on anything but his own dick starting to fade.

Except it couldn't fade completely. Not with Paul barely a foot away from him, his big brown eyes furtively darting between Peter's cock and the pencil, his mouth tight. Looking over at him, Peter could almost swear he saw the faint start of a blush cropping up on Paul's cheeks. "Jesus, relax, would you? I'm not gonna come here."

"Wow, isn't that a relief," Paul mumbled, rolling the pencil back and forth between his finger and thumb.

"'S not like you haven't seen this before." A solid five or six times by now, minus the fact that it was usually a girl's mouth or hand on Peter's cock instead of his own. They weren't great at sharing the not-quite-groupies yet. It had taken awhile before they figured out positioning that'd get all three of them off, and that always hinged on whether the girl was down for it. Once they'd ended up with a chick who'd gotten too intimidated by two guys at once, and after a round of debate over who'd go first, Paul had ended up slinking off to the shower while Peter made it with her. Unsurprisingly, she'd been so satiated she'd fallen asleep by the time Paul returned, and they'd both had to lug her out of the hotel room and into the hallway. Paul had been pissed off. Peter just found it funny.

Paul looked as if he were about to say something, but then he shut his mouth. Peter exhaled, letting his eyes shut for a second while he kept pumping, no fantasy in mind, just the simple mechanics of pleasure. Jacking off was mindless, with or without an audience. Nothing meaningful. Nothing to consider. And Paul, for whatever reason, was still just watching him do it. That pencil lead hadn't even touched the paper. Peter took a sharp breath before he spoke again.

"Good enough?"

He'd stopped himself once he was fully hard, but before any precome could dribble out from the reddened tip. He could feel his face getting flushed, a little sweat starting to trickle on his forehead, but he was all right. If things got too bad, he could always head over to the shower to finish rubbing it out, after Paul was done drawing. But he didn't think it would come to that, though his cock twitched in protest. Paul gave a distracted nod.

"Yeah. It's fine."

Then he finally started to draw again. Peter leaned over, trying to get a glance in, but Paul kept covering up the pad with his other hand, swatting at him when he got too close. Peter snorted.

"C'mon, you're not drawing the Mona Lisa here."

"You throw me off watching."

"What'm I supposed to do, just sit here?"

"That's exactly what you're supposed to do." Paul was erasing now, but carefully. One of those cheap pink erasers. He brushed the residue off the paper, and it landed on the covers, tiny black streaks of rubber against the orange comforter. Deprived of watching Paul at work, Peter tried to focus his attention on the eraser remnants, flicking them.

It didn't really help. Despite himself, Peter was starting to squirm. He didn't think Paul was drawing anything past his dick, but he'd been trying to stay still anyway. His thighs kept twitching involuntarily. The ache in his balls was getting irritating enough that he gave in to a few more strokes, shoving his hand in the covers as soon as he heard Paul laugh.

"You having trouble keeping it up?"

"Fuck you, you know that's not it-"

"Gimme a couple more minutes, all right, Pete?" A pause. "And get a little closer, there." He reached his hand out, fingers curving lightly around Peter's bare knee, just for a second. Immaculately manicured nails, bizarre for a guitarist, even one who hadn't played a gig in almost a week. The black nail polish hadn't even chipped. But Peter only really noticed how the warmth against his skin seemed to linger on after Paul had withdrawn his hand. "There."

Peter got closer. His legs were flat on the bed and spread slightly, toes touching the wall by the time he got closer; he'd ended up more to Paul's side. His painfully hard, flushed dick stood out sharp against the rest of his body, craving attention he couldn't-wouldn't-give yet. He'd get that touch in later. He'd get off on his own. A couple more minutes, like Paul said. Yeah.

The amused expression on Paul's face had shifted, gotten focused and intent. The way it did when he was trying to pull a riff together, or a set of lyrics. Peter didn't much care for that look-usually it meant Paul would try to banish whoever was in the same room, whether it was him or Ace or even Gene, so he could be alone with whatever brilliant thoughts he had. But now that look was locked on him instead. Partially. Flattering, maybe, to be mulled over like a rhyme that didn't flow, or a chord that wasn't right yet, but Peter knew that if he thought too hard about it, he'd get disgusted. So he just let his mind wander to the sound of Paul's pencil scraping across the page.

Peter didn't really notice at first when that sound stopped. Or when Paul put the pencil down. The pad of paper was still resting on his lap. Peter inhaled, waiting, figuring Paul would hand it over-with a joking autograph, probably-any second-but then a mass of dark curls ended up right in Peter's face. Paul was leaning in, heavily, breaths hot and heavy against Peter's neck. He pushed away the pad of paper, his bare chest pressed up flush against Peter's. Peter opened his mouth, started to say something, and then swallowed it down when Paul's hand wrapped around his dick.

Peter couldn't believe it. Didn't protest or argue-didn't want to. He was surprised, that was all. Surprised Paul would go for it. Have that kind of nerve. Paul didn't pull back enough to look him in the eye. Didn't say a word.

His palm was sweaty against Peter's cock, fingers only a little callused. The first few strokes were too slow, unintentional teasing, but then Paul got steadier, built up a rhythm. Like doing it to yourself, Ace had told him once, lazily, in the worst and best advice Peter had ever gotten on handjobs, but different. Different. Peter could feel Paul's heartbeat against him, like a pinball smashing against the bumpers. Each breath was getting more tattered, soft curses forcing their way from Peter's throat; each inhale pushed more of Paul's Aramis cologne into his lungs. Peter's hands, curled up into the covers, flew up desperately as he got closer, warmth and need pulsating inside him, threatening to burst-clenching Paul's shoulder, his back-holding him there, right there, as he spilled into Paul's hand.

Paul let go as abruptly as he'd started. His whole body froze up, and he shifted backwards, brushing away Peter's hands, dark eyes wide, almost scared. He scrambled off the bed and onto Peter's, yanking the covers around him like a little kid caught up too late.

"Paul?"

"I'm sorry," he said, and shut off the lamp.

Peter got up early the next morning, before the alarm clock, but it didn't matter. Paul was already gone-got a cab, evidently, leaving everyone else with the crappy tour bus. Peter could hear Ace and Gene grumbling about it through the wall before he got out of bed, stopping short of the pad of paper and pencil on the floor. He picked both up and took a look.

The drawing was immaculate. Paul had gotten the balls just right. Everything. Taken the time to shade it, even, like it was a serious study. He'd signed it, too-initialed it, rather, P.S. nestled in a forlorn corner. No date. Peter tore the sheet carefully from the pad of paper, looking at it, unsure of what to do with it. Whether to keep it or not. He ended up setting it on the nightstand, face down, before crossing over to what had been his bed up until last night. He didn't have to pull back the sheets to see the semen stain from where Paul had wiped off his hand.

He could've used some washing off himself after last night. No Paul hogging the shower was an empty comfort right now, as Peter turned on the water, letting it get blisteringly hot before stepping inside. It didn't really help.

Paul was back before lunch, anyway, quiet and withdrawn. Bill was talking about booking them a couple more shows further down South-a terrifying prospect, but better than heading home-and Gene was chatting about it with all his usual enthusiasm, while Ace added vodka and ice to his coffee. Paul just looked sunk. Gene kept throwing questioning looks Paul's way, and glancing at Peter, but if he ever asked outright, Peter never heard it.

The band meeting drifted off into nothing after awhile. Paul got up abruptly, saying something about a headache, and excused himself with about as much subtlety as a dying animal. It was a few minutes before Peter got up the nerve to follow him back to their room-and, as expected, Paul had locked the door.

"Paul, c'mon-"

The sound of the knob turning was almost gratifying. Paul was standing there, looking awkward, mouth pursed. Peter noticed, belatedly, that for all Paul had gotten up early that morning, he hadn't shaved, stubble poking hopelessly all around his jaw. His t-shirt and jeans-one of maybe ten street outfits he'd rotated over the tour, same as Peter, same as everyone else-were rumpled past what Paul usually would allow for.

"You didn't have to come check on me."

"I did, we share a room."

Paul swallowed.

"Look, if you wanna change rooms, go ahead, just don't tell Gene about-"

"I ain't telling Gene nothing. And I don't wanna change rooms." Pete exhaled. The look on Paul's face twitched just a bit, but Peter didn't give him a chance to respond before plowing back in. "Are we gonna do Gay Kitchen tonight?"

Paul flinched. Almost like he thought Peter meant it badly, or was making fun of him, or something. Like one of those Japanese trees, the ones with flat leaves that folded up after the briefest brush of a hand. One word and he'd curl back up. One touch, leaving Peter all out of sorts, trying to undo the trick, get those leaves to unfurl again.

"Do you want to?"

"Ace was asking earlier."

"Oh." Paul turned away, walking over to the kitchenette on the other side of the room. He pulled open the fridge, getting out the last can of Coke, popping the top before he really answered. "I guess."

"C'mon, it's our last night here. It'll be fun."

"We're almost out of food."

"We've got enough. Still have those hot dogs." Peter felt awkward, still standing there, barely past the doorframe, as if he was a visitor to his own hotel room. He stepped over to sit on one of the beds. The drawing wasn't on the nightstand anymore. "Hey-"

"What?"

Peter's throat was suddenly a little dry. The words were out before he could hold them back.

"You didn't have to get rid of it."

"It was stupid."

"No, it wasn't. It-it was good, Paulie."

Paul was still all tensed up. Like a battery coil on the verge of springing. Peter almost thought he was going to walk out, more prepared to face Gene and Ace or another lousy cab ride than spend the rest of the day with him, but instead, Paul sat down on the other bed.

"You really don't wanna change rooms." He said it flatly, borderline disbelieving, clasping the Coke can in both hands. He looked strangely young, sitting like that. The six years between them never felt like much except when Peter really let himself give it some thought. At twenty-two, he sure as hell hadn't been on the road with a record, however indifferently-received. Hadn't made it-with threesomes, even-with a whole bunch of girls. He resented it when he considered it, but right now, all Peter was considering was the tightness of Paul's lips and the way he was staring at the floor.

He was just a kid, really. Scared of getting rejected as any other kid, hell, as any other adult. Putting on onstage, putting on during their dinners, only ever peeling back how he really was during all the time in between. The worries and frets, the painful, painful shyness behind every sharp retort. The panicked heartbeat against Peter's chest last night as he'd pushed past his nerves for something he wanted.

Something Peter wanted, too.

"Fuck, no. You and me are the only ones around here that know how to pick up our own shit."

"Pete, that's not it-"

"No. No, it's not it. C'mere. C'mere," he said, quietly, scooting forward on the bed, hands resting awkwardly on either side of him, those orange covers clashing badly with his chipped black nail polish and cheap silver rings. He watched as Paul set down the Coke can and stood up, crossing the tiny threshold between their beds. He still looked like he was about to flee. One wrong word, one sudden movement and it'd be over.

So Peter was slow, agonizingly slow to take his arm and tug him forward. Paul let him do it, didn't go rigid at all, though the fear in those wide eyes was still there. Peter wanted it to fade; suddenly, he wanted it to fade more than anything, as he got to his feet, palm hot against Paul's arm. As he leaned in, pushing Paul's dark curls behind his shoulder, and pressed his lips to Paul's neck.

Paul didn't respond at first. Then, just as Peter was about to pull away, he felt Paul's other hand close around his. Too shy to even lock their fingers together. But that was all right. That was all right. Peter did it for him, shifting his hand in Paul's until their fingers were laced. He raised his head, and Paul's mouth met his, cautious and careful. None of that too-eager fooling around like with the girls. None of that silent desperation from last night. Peter liked this better, every second feeling warmer and fuller than the last. As if he was just on the brink of discovering something grand as his tongue slid across Paul's lips and he let go of Paul's arm to trace the stubble on his jaw, cup his chin in his hand. Paul parted his lips for him, Peter tasting cereal and toothpaste when his tongue slipped inside, but he didn't care. Paul was opening up for him. Finally opening up.

It wasn't too long before Paul started pressing up against him, hips rocking meaningfully against his. Somewhere along the line, he'd ended up with Paul's hair in his fist, and he tugged, lightly, urging him forward as he sat back down on the bed. Tugged his hand, too, as if he needed to. Paul got the picture, following him down, timidity shifting to urgency, until Peter's back was pressed against the mattress. Peter thought about yanking his hair hard for that one, and he might have, except Paul kept kissing him all the way down, except Paul's knee was rubbing against his crotch, his thin blue jeans barely a barrier at all.

Peter's breath hitched as Paul shifted lower, moving off of him enough that Peter could shuck off his own shirt and toss it to the floor. Paul was unzipping him, those long, thin fingers hooking around his belt loops and pulling down his jeans. Freeing his cock, already far too hard, worse than last night, easily. Peter took a sharp inhale when Paul sank down, pushing his thighs apart with his knee, and started to lick at his cock. All the way down, pouring on the attention, fingers pressing hard against his hips, keeping them steady. Peter watched, dazed, breaths hitching, until Paul's warm mouth was around just the tip of his cock.

"Paul, hold on."

Paul pulled back, lifting his head like he'd done something wrong.

"What?"

"You don't know how to do it, don't worry about it." It was just a guess, but Peter figured it was a good enough one. And that wasn't all of it. He didn't think Paul would give himself enough leeway for a screw-up. Perfection or nothing.

Paul hesitated.

"But-"

"It's okay, man." It was hard to think past the blood pumping straight to his dick, going untouched for now, but Peter was managing, barely. The brief image of Paul with his lips around his dick was promising enough, the lead-in for a dozen jerk-off fantasies already. Maybe more than that. "Just-c'mon, let me-"

He tugged Paul back up, helping him peel off his t-shirt, then his jeans and underwear. Taking him in like this, with no girl between them, didn't feel strange or wrong or any of that bullshit; it felt good, every shed layer lending Peter more skin to touch, making him more certain of everything. Despite the concert performances, despite the threesomes and the locker room showers, he'd never really gotten a sense of Paul's physicality before. Now that Paul was straddling him, hair hanging in his face, mouth pressed to his neck, his ear, Peter could really see it all, the wide, powerful build of his chest before it bore down against Peter's, his arms, taut and muscular, tensing as Peter's hands tightened around them. Paul's cock brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through Peter, and then he was grinding up against him, their hips flush, flesh against flesh. Peter was cursing before long, the stimulation maddening, almost agonizing because it wasn't quite enough. Paul seemed like he sensed it, reaching over, taking both their cocks together in one hand-but Peter shook his head.

"I've got a better idea."

"Yeah?" Paul's fingers rolled up against his cock just so, the pressure of his hand and his dick incredible enough that Peter almost changed his mind. Looking up at him, that slightly-sweaty brow, those dark eyes, dilated and needy, Peter nodded, fingers closing on Paul's wrist.

"Yeah. I already know you can jack me off." An exhale. "Get on your back and I'll show you what I can do."

Paul let go of him. There was a little consternation somewhere in his expression, a hesitancy Peter tried to erase, hand running down Paul's hairy chest, fingers tweaking a nipple, but Paul did as he'd asked, grasping Peter by the shoulders and rolling them both over. Peter shifted, repositioning himself on top of Paul, putting his hands beneath his thighs. Almost immediately, Paul stiffened up, started to try and lift up his legs. Peter pushed them back down before he could.

"Nah, we're not doing that. Don't worry." Peter watched some of the tension fade from Paul's face, curiosity replacing it. "Spread your legs out a little. there, now." He slid his dick between Paul's thighs, tip right up against Paul's taint. He didn't need to instruct further. Paul's mouth tilted in a distracted grin, his thighs closing tight around Peter's dick-and from there, Peter started to thrust, the soft warmth surrounding his cock nearly overpowering.

Paul was finally making a few sharp sounds as Peter's thrusts sped up, thighs squeezing hard against his cock. The sounds got louder, turned into curses, turned into strangled attempts at Peter's name. Between Paul's moans and his own urgency, Peter couldn't think, his pace speeding up, every brush against Paul's cock, every tensing of Paul's thighs pushing him closer to the brink. He came with a cry, spurting hot between Paul's legs, Paul still urging him to keep going, just a few more, a few more. He managed, grunting, shuddering with exertion as he kept thrusting. Beneath him, Paul looked out of it and focused all at once, dick throbbing against his. So close. Too close. It was seconds before Paul came, quieter, spilling all over them both, head lolling back in the aftermath. Peter was still panting as he slid his cock out from between Paul's slick thighs, as Paul put an arm around him, pressing a kiss to his jaw, his cheek, before finally meeting his lips again.

The Gay Kitchen's final evening went well. Ace and Gene had brought dessert-a box of oatmeal creme pies and a gallon of cheap Neapolitan ice cream-and they'd served it along with the hot dogs and stale chips. A beer apiece, except for Gene, who got a Sprite from the machine downstairs in a rare spendthrift moment. Paul's come-ons and gropes weren't any heavier than the night before, but there was a warmth and a relaxation in him that was new to Peter. A softer look to his expression he'd only been privy to late, late at night in the hotels, just before he drifted off.

Peter liked that. He liked that a lot. Feeling that, maybe, something of Paul's might be reserved for him. That maybe he'd be let in for more than an afternoon. He thought he might be. He figured he would be.

They didn't fool around that night. They didn't really have the time to. Once dinner was over and Ace and Gene had gone back to their room, Peter took a shower, and then he started packing, too-aware of how quick check-out came. Particularly when they were headed straight down to the bottom edge of Florida tomorrow, a solid ten or eleven hours on the road, to play at some college or auditorium or-something. Peter was just glad Bill had secured them another handful of tour dates, no matter the location.

He tossed his makeup kit and street clothes and shoes back into his suitcase, fiddling with the wobbly latches, tracing the crack down one side. Ten to one the damn thing would break before they got out of Atlanta, but maybe he could tie a scarf around it or something to hold the luggage together. He turned to Paul, who was sitting on the floor next to him with his own ratty suitcase half on his lap, about to ask him, but Paul spoke first.

"You forgot your heels."

"I didn't. They're in the laundry bag with everyone else's."

"Not the ones that go with your costume. The other pair." Paul pointed under the bed. There they were, three-inch platforms he'd barely worn all tour, neatly placed. He didn't remember putting them there.

He pulled them out, a piece of paper under one heel catching his eye. Setting the heels aside, he picked up the paper.

"Paul?"

It was the drawing of his dick. Paul hadn't thrown it away after all. He glanced over at him, and Paul smiled, a little bashful. That hopeless smile he hadn't been able to plaster on a single promo picture, more endearing and elusive than any sketch.

"It's for you. I don't know if I'd frame it, but."

Peter felt himself grin back.

"Are you kidding? It's the best drawing of my dick anyone's ever gonna give me. I'll keep it forever." Peter held it up, examining it anew. "There's only one problem."

"I thought you were done critiquing my art."

"Hell, no." And Peter handed it back. "You gotta sign it for me."

"I initialed it-"

"Sign it. Make it worth a million bucks someday." Peter didn't think he'd stop smiling as he leaned over, tousling Paul's hair. "You can even add the star."

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley x peter criss #peter criss #paul stanley

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twilightvolt · 4 years

Photo

And so, another year has come to pass.....almost. ^ ^

Remember when i said i was branching away from Digimon back when i drew up Venom fanart? y’know, “I wanted to be more than what i used to be.” that being “a Digimon artist.”

2019 was basically just that. lots and lots and LOTS of fandom hopping.

If last year was me recovering from the pain and crippling anxiety of 2017, then this year was me finally getting up again, learning to stand up and live for myself rather than in fear of those i shouldn’t care about anymore. life still hasn’t been too kind to me even though, compared to last year, we’re in a better space. but i’ll get into more detail about that while i go through everything month by month on the clock.

Before we begin, if you’d like to see the previous years, here’s the links!

2018:https://twilightvolt.tumblr.com/post/181732950569/i-kinda-was-saving-this-for-when-i-had-the-time-to

2017:https://twilightvolt.tumblr.com/post/171806337539/a-3-month-late-art-summary-featuring-art-that-i

Might wanna grab your popcorn, my dudes. this is a long one.

January: On the Web

Coming out of 2018, things were pretty ok if i remember. i don’t remember much from this month aside from a few doodles i did like this one from when Spiderverse was the hottest thing. this was one of the last things i drew in my old style. before i decided to officially change things up in the next month.

February: Gotta Kick it Up

Pokemon Sword & Shield were announced and things were hype! oh, how things soured as the months went by. lol

But yeah, this was me taking that experimental sketchy pencil style from that Smash Bros. drawing and rolling with it all the way! it’s become my new go-to style and even though it’s still hella sketchy at times, i feel like it looks better in comparison to my old ink outlined drawings.

March: The Overdrive Dweebanoids

Oh right. my old Ben 10 phase that lasted for a millisecond in 2016 returned with a vengeance. and it was glorious. lmao

It spawned an AU that i didn’t delve into much, but if i ever get that spark for my favorite alien watch bearer, i’ll get back to it.

April: True Blue Lizard Bois

My Ben 10 streak continues and i was crankin’ out art left and right for it. i luved all the “doodle dumps” i made, but this drawing was wholesome and i picked it because of that.

To some extent, this could be a comparison between my past and my present. that being Overdrive!Ben being what, at the time, was my current obsession while Digimon!Vivi was a representation of where i used to be, back when i was starting out and entering Digimon OCTs on Deviantart.

May: Return to the Realm of Sleep ~HD ReMIX

Now THIS i feel was one of the grandest drawings i’ve done this year. hell, i even made a wallpaper out of it.

like, it was just a redraw of an old drawing from 2017. but to me, it was a way to tell me just how far i’ve come since then. and i couldn’t be happier.

This was also the month i rebooted my DA after a long time of inactivity!

....Iiiit didn’t really work much, but i’m still working on it. though i highly doubt it’s worth it considering most of the ones i used to hang with there are either people i don’t wanna associate with or people who left while i was gone. seriously, it’s a ghost town there.

June: Art Fight 2019 ~Dreams Vs. Nightmares~

Ahh, my second year of Art Fight. for this year’s event, i wanted to be a tad more grandiose. like drawing up this banner. i like being extra and stuff even if it kills my drawing hand, so yeah. lmao

...

Florida thunderstorms are friggin’ terrifying. idk HOW anyone can get used to that.

July: - BREAK DOWN -

Oookay, it was hard picking my favorite attack this year cuz i pretty much was satisfied with all of them. but i had to go with this attack because the artist i drew it for was someone i really admired for years and i’m just happy i could finally have an opportunity to draw them something. like, i luv how it came out, so yeah.

This was also the month i forced myself to finally do the thing and let go of the constant fear i felt towards certain people i used to hang with. while remembering 2017 will never NOT hurt, i can’t let that fear rule over me forever. i have to take control and not let it stop me from doing what i want. and that’s exactly what i did.

August: Ricky ~Sapphire, Emerald and AlphaSapphire

Oh yeah! after Art Fight ended, i returned to Pokemon randomly cuz i wanted to go back to my roots for a moment. revamping Ricky, formerly Ragna, and Yagami was something i’ve been meaning to do for awhile and it reignited a waning love for a series i started growing distant towards since Gen VII.

I used to really like Ricky’s old design even though i barely ever used him. but i guess this just shows how much more original i’ve gotten in terms of character design. ^ ^

September: Heartbeat Inferno

Now, i haven’t really talked much about what’s been going on life wise for most of this post, but trust me when i say irl, things weren’t really.....happening. like, it’s hard when you live (or rather, lived now) in a place with little job opportunity and you have NO experience whatsoever. the lack of progression must’ve hit something in me, so the week i drew this was me just....shifting moods, feeling everything at once. one day i’d be agitated as hell, the next i’d be so depressed i took a some odd hour nap and didn’t wanna get out of bed. like, for most of this year, i haven’t felt this stressed out and frustrated with myself. so this sudden crash was kind of....unwelcome.

But this drawing was a fresh change though, if i’m being honest. i’m not usually this uncaring about how clean the coloring job is, but i like it! i’d choose that other drawing i did for my friends’ birthdays, Skirmish at the Cable Club, but this one had a more personal drive behind it.

October: - PAPERMOON -

beastarsbeastarsbeASTARSBEASTARS--*COUGH COUGH AHEM* I MEAN....hai. :D

Continuing with my Pokemon shenanigans, i drew this big piece which was something i had in my head for years now, but never actually acted upon it cuz i always felt it was too big of an idea to work on. i’m happy i’ve managed to capture what i envisioned originally.

As for interests, i’m sure most of my current followers can deduce that i quickly shifted gears to Beastars as soon as the anime was released and so far, i regret nothing. it’s spawned a metric butt ton of new art from me and the way i see it, this phase ain’t stopping as long as this series continues. brace yourselves fam, i believe i’ve finally found the successor to my Digimon phase. lmao

Like, damn, i had a tough time choosing art for this month. i was stuck between this, - SMILE/WILD SIDE - and Slip Into Madness. so many good drawings i was satisfied with, y’know?

November: The Future is Now

I was SO planning on putting something else here, but then suddenly i just kinda had this urge to redraw that uggo gouache painting of Miyagi from highschool. and it turned out so good that i had to. like, really. lmao

As with the redraw of Dream Drop Digital’s key art, it was a reminder of how far i’ve come since then art wise. and i feel like i’ve accomplished so much this year because of it. ;w;

December: Winter Lights

And now we’re back to the present time. after over a year or so of living in Florida, we’ve moved once again back up north a bit. yet another clean slate, but things seem to be looking up despite the rather large bumps in the road the past week or so. lately i’ve been feeling that seasonal depression starting to set in, but i think i’ll be fine as long as i stay positive. cuz y’know, it’s not being happy all the time. it’s just knowing that things will get better someday.

One of the other reasons i drew this drawing was cuz i REALLY wanted to have something Beastars related on this clock. this series (and Legoshi in particular) really inspired me, so i had to leave a wedge open for my boi.

Looking back at the beginning of this decade (as 2020 would mark the next one), i realized that the 2010′s were basically me becoming more artsy. finding enjoyment for a new hobby that quickly became something i’m now more passionate about than video games which i didn’t think would EVER be the case.

Funny enough, it all started in the RP section of a little forum for an MMO called Wizard101. i was only in middle school at the time and, to tell you the truth, i had no idea i’d be going at it for this long. thought i’d just do it on the side but not really delve into the art world more.

But despite all the trips and falls, fandom drama or otherwise, i wouldn’t change anything if it meant i wouldn’t have the friends who’ve stuck by me in the aftermath of those times.

I may not be really succeeding in much, but it’s the small steps in life that matter most in the end. these past few months in particular was me getting fed up with feeling sorry for myself for not doing the things i was interested in in the past, getting over my regret and making plans for starting something new even though i know i’ll suck at first and not worrying so much about how others might perceive me.

And just like how life was changing for our resident grey wolf this first season, mine seems to be doing the same. and i believe this decade ended on a better note than i thought it would during the past couple years leading up to this.

Here’s to a new decade! ^ ^

~ For a future I want to believe in. ~

#art meme #summary of art #2019 summary of art #year end reflections #2010's reflections #rambles

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