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nightowlfandom · 3 years

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Anime! Fictional! BTS x Real World! Reader- Welcome To My World~ Episode 1

HEY HEY! IM SO EXCITE! Btw who here plays BTS World? This is very loosely based off that.

I need to download it again tbh.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...

What does it mean to escape? To get away. If it means leaving behind all you know, all you’ve been raised to know, all you’ve been led to believe, with just yourself and the clothes on your back. Scary, but thrilling. Terrifying, but inviting. Unbelievable, but definitely possible....

...

On a early Tuesday morning where the sun was barely grazing the orange sky, you sat by your windowsill. You were dreamily staring out into the halo that was a mixture of red and orange. The halo of greyish clouds matched your mood to a complete tee. The aesthetic beauty of nature wasn’t enough to make you smile or even blink twice, however. It was always like this though. Yet something about this scene made you go sour.

Releasing a sigh, you stepped away from the window, shutting the curtains. Another day, the same thing. All you could do was attempt to power through.

As you lazily pulled your shirt over your head, you had managed to dodge that annoying dog. The little brat wasn’t even yours, but your oh-so loving step-sister’s. He always had a affinity for making your room a hot mess. Only yours in particular.

“Get out of here you little-.” you chased the dog out of your room, slamming your door as it scurried off. “What did you screw up this time?” you curiously scanned the room. Everytime that little fluffy beast rammed his little head into your personal space, something would end up broken, ripped, shattered, or completely destroyed beyond repair.

You almost screamed when you saw a familiar book cover on the floor. You instantly dropped to your knees, praying to yourself that it wasn’t true. The cover had a pretty violent looking rip along with the first few pages.

Your absolute reason for waking up in the morning was tarnished. A signed cover of BTS Universe Issue #1. Probably your one and only favorite series on planet Earth. You gingerly picked up the book, trying to inspect it with hopes that the damage was minimal. As little as this was, you almost felt like crying. However there was no time, you needed to tape up the pages and fast! Who cares if you missed breakfast.

...

“Morning Y/N!” Your step-dad greeted you in the kitchen. “You were upstairs an awful long time, I was about to send your mother to see if you were still up playing that game of yours!” he smiled warmly.

“Thanks Mr. Chai.” you replied politely. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“You know...Y/N...you could call me Dad.” he set a plate down on the table. “I know I’m not your father, but I want to be the best father-figure for you because I know...you haven’t really had that.”

You had to stop yourself from saying anything else. You haven’t had the best parental relationship, and your new step-dad really was trying. Maybe it was just his daughter that drove you nuts.

“Thank you.” you replied, smiling. “...Dad.” you winked, making finger guns. “Geez! You made a lot of food for just the four of us”

“ Well you ain’t see muffin, yet!” he winked. “You and Nari have a busy day today. She auditioning and you, my friend....well I don’t know exactly what you have planned for the day.”

“I’ll tell you if we can skip the food related puns.” you sat down at the table. It was a rule that everyone waited for everyone else. Even though you had taken the extra time to repair your copy of BTS Universe, you had seemed to be the first person down the stairs. In all honesty, you were just going to hang out at the comic store until Nari called to tell you she was done.

“Hey now, Donut kill my vibe!” he continued, laughing. “I have a million more of these, come on. Don’t go bacon my heart, Y/N.”

“Good job Y/N, you’ve gotten him started.” You mom came down the stairs in her little blazer and pencil skirt. “Whatever will we do now.”

“He did it himself, the guy’s an animal! You married a wild child, mom.” you joked. “He might just be a serial killer.”

“Don’t you mean...cereal killer?” he held up a box of Raisin Bran to make his point. You could only shake your head as your mother and step-father laughed together. Food related humor so early in the morning had to mean today wasn’t going to be a horrible as it started, at least for you.

“WHERE ARE MY THIGH HIGH BOOTS!” you heard a screech from upstairs. “THEY BETTER NOT BE IN YOUR ROOM, Y/N!”

“...WHY WOULD I WANT TO WEAR YOUR SHOES!” you yelled back after taking in a deep breath. “NARI, IF I WANTED TO BREAK MY ANKLES, I’D HAUL MYSELF DOWN THE STAIRS.”

“When will you two get along?” your mom shook her head. “It’s been three years.”

“We don’t not get along.” You shook your head. “Not my fault she’s difficult.”

“I can think of a few times you’ve been difficult yourself, young lady.” you mother pointed a stern finger at you. “Like when you locked yourself in the room to read that silly cartoon of yours.”

“It’s not silly.” you defended yourself.

“Oh come on!” Nari’s voice voice could be heard alongside some loud footsteps. “I think it’s cute to be honest. Y/N here actually has a hobby besides stalking celebrities online.”

“Shut up, Nari.” you grumbled. “And keep your dog out of my room! He ruined my signed copy of BTS Universe!”

“Dorie got out again?” she seethed, looking annoyed. “I really have to put a bell on that dog.”

“Yeah.” you sighed, you bummed mood returning. Everyone knew just how much you loved that edition. You kept in in a super special display case, you cleaned the case every week, you kept your other issues on their own bookshelf along with your figurine and digital visual novel editions of the series. You were even on the buyer’s list for the special early anime release. You LOVED this series. Not even Nari dared to disrespect something as important as that, and she loved getting under your skin.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find another one.” your mother set down a bowl of cereal in front of you along with a muffin. “Now eat, you have a big day today.”

“Yes mam.” you replied, helping yourself to some cereal.

“If you want, you can take a muffin or bagel with you.” your step dad said.

“Dad! I can’t, I have to be super focused remember? Breakfast will just slow me down!” Nari scoffed.

“Not having breakfast will make it even worse, dummy. Dude, you’re gonna pass out on stage.” you threw a tiny cereal piece at her. “Eat something.”

“I’ll eat later, I just have my eye on the prize and nothing is going to stop me.” Nari stood up determined.

“Will you at least eat some toast, crazy girl.” your mother said. “Y/N’s right, you need to at least have eaten something to calm your nerves. Y/N make sure Nari eats something before you two go your separate ways.”

“I’ll try, no promise.” you shrugged. “Nari, if you’re done, then get your stuff and let’s go.” You promptly finished your cereal and went to go back upstairs. “You got ten minutes.”

“What’s her deal?” you could hear Nari ask, followed by an sudden whispering of your mom stating exactly what she thought was wrong with you. Your bet was on ‘everything’.

You walked back into your room, grabbing your purse from your desk. You eyed your taped up issue of BTS Universe #1. There was no way you were going to find another issue like that, and that damned dog just treated it like a loved toy. You grabbed your phone and shoved it into your purse. You went over to where the issue was and placed it on your desk.

“NARI LET’S GO!” you shut the bedroom door behind you as you walked out the room.

...

You sped to a stop outside the building. Nari was shaking in her shoes. She seemed hesitant to even open the door.

“Call me when you’re finished so I can pick you up.” you said, getting ready to unlock the doors.

“You’re leaving me!?” Nari looked like she was about to explode.

“Hello?! It’s idol trainees only?” you raised an eyebrow. “I can’t go in there with you. Nari what’s the problem?”

“...Um...I’m nervous alright! I’m giving up almost everything and if I don’t get chosen...I’ll just prove my dad right. I need this.” she stared down at her hands. “I’m not used to being a reject. I don’t know how you-”

“You wanna leave here with two working legs, I suggest you don’t finished that sentence.” you cut her off. “I’m not a reject.”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. I’m saying I don’t know how you deal with nerves like this.” she looked like she was gonna pass out.

“...You just do.” you nudged her shoulder. “You just go for it and hope. Go for it.”

“...Okay, I’ll try.” she opened the door. “...Thank you.” she stood up. “I’ll call you when I’m all set.” she shut the door.

“I’ll literally be at the store around the corner.” you replied before driving off. You watched in the rear view as she took her sweet time going into the building.

...(Later on)

You trudged behind Nari as she ran through the door. She seemed happy, so that must have meant the audition went well.

“I’m gonna take a nap.” you called to your mom and step-dad. “See you guys at dinner!”

You didn’t wait for them to reply before you closed the door. As you walked over to your bed, you noticed a disc laying on your bed. Just a random DVD. The closer you got, the font on the front got clearer.

“BTS World?” It didn’t look familiar in the slightest. “It’s called BTS Universe, Nice try Nari.” you wrote it off as a stupid prank by your oh-so-loving Step-Sister. It was only then you realized Nari was with you all day.

You took another look at it, gently taking it in your hands. It looked like it was glowing.

Call it curiosity, but you needed to know.

Your laptop was sitting at the edge of the bed, so you put the disc in.

“State your name.” a voice came out of nowhere.

“What?” you looked around in shock. The voice sounded like it came from right behind you.

“Please state your name.” the female robotic voice repeated.

“Y/N.”

“Are you sure that you want Y/N as your name?”

“Um Yes?” you raised an eyebrow. You still didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

“Would you like to start a new game? You don’t appear to have any saved filed under the name Y/N.”

Maybe you were sleepier than you thought, but you ran with it. “Yes.”

“Starting new game....now”

Your screen began glowing a bright blue, a vivid, saturated blue. It was like your screen had turned into a flashlight.

“What the fu-” you suddenly stared at your hands, the very tips of your fingers turned pixelated. “MOM!!!” You tried to scream, only to have it come out in the form on an echo. You felt your feet leave the ground as tiny little pixels moved towards your computer. You could see the color draining from your walls, leaving everything white. It was like an earthquake ran through your room...only through your room.

Then...everything went dark.

...

(Why hello there...LET US PREPARE. I’m gonna go through with it this time, I swear on my bacon! The guys are coming next chappie!)

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musedblues · 4 years

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Always Something There To Remind Me [Part: 4]

summary: Home is where the heart is. You’re working on finding yours. After a handful of misfortunes, your old friend Joe helps to unravel life’s greatest mystery while adding a bit of extra grief to the mix.

warnings: Some fun, a little angst, and a whole lot of mixed feeling!

w/c: 6k

a/n: We’ve reached the halfway mark of this story! I hope you enjoy this update. Let me know what you think, lovies!

taglist: @im-an-adult-ish @mrsmazzello @lettinggosthehardestpart @the-moving-finger-writes @imtheinvisiblequeen

Part 5

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The spring was blossoming to life and after your fair share of sulking, you went on the hunt for a job. Funeral expenses and travel had cleaned out your account, and you needed income. In the local mall, you scored part-time at a tiny flower shop. A lovely couple of old men owned the place and handled deliveries, insisting your only job was to sit behind the register and wait for customers to buy something.

There were plenty of shoppers, but even more spare time to listen to podcasts and text Tegan. You were in the middle of sending your friend photos of the floral arrangement one of your bosses let you mess around with over lunch break, when a familiar voice floated past your counter.

“Oh my God!”

Lacy Duval was standing in front of you with a strangely excitable grin and a perfect ponytail flowing from underneath a Yankees ballcap. Oh my God was right.

“Hello, Lacy.” You gave her a cagey smile. There was no reason not to be polite, but something about the girl really got under your skin.

“I saw you here on my way to Urban Outfitters and I couldn’t not say hello.” The girl was pretty. It almost blinded you to look right at her. But she’d taken to leaning against the counter to shove her smile in your face.

“Well, hello.” You offered once more. “Please, don’t let me get in the way of your shopping.” You nearly plead, glancing past her, willing another customer to show up.

“Oh, no I work at Urban. I totally don’t mind clocking in a few minutes late.” Lacy giggled like this was some kind of big, secret, inside joke. You only let out a very nervous chuckle, afraid if you opened your mouth again you would be a little too rude. Lacy leaned against your register for five solid minutes, gabbing on about the mall and the people she worked with and how she’d never see you here before. All while looking over her shoulder and around yours, like she had somewhere better to be. That’s what stopped you from dropping your guard and actually listening to what Lacy had to drone on about.

She left with a reluctant sigh and you wondered how she justified talking to you for so long with absolutely nothing to say. You shook it off in a hurry, going back to your texts with Tegan and selling a few promposal bouquets near the end of your shift.

Except after then, something horrific happened. For the next two weeks, Lacy kept coming in to say hello. Every. Single. Day. She even learned your schedule and made a habit of stopping in to greet you before her shifts across the mall started. And for a while, you didn’t totally mind the tradition. She kept it up so long, with a pleasant smile. She must have really wanted to talk to you, right? But by her fifth visit, her all too obvious intentions were finally brought to light.

“So how’s Joe, then?” Lacy kept her smile wide and her eyes glued on yours.

“Oh, you know, some kind of superstar.” You half-joked, almost through your teeth. Joe was off with his castmates, winning awards and attending red carpet parties. You couldn’t have been happier for him. He deserved a bit of fun after the winter was so cruel. You just didn’t like that Lacy was asking.

“He’s always been popular but he’s properly famous now, isn’t he?” Lacy pointed out, giddy. “Every time I post a photo with him I swear I gain at least a hundred more followers!” She practically swooned.

It took every ounce of your strength not to throw your head back and groan out loud. Yeah, he was an actor. Yeah, he was good- and recognized for it. You’d had this conversation more times with more people than you ever really realized was possible. And if ever he dared mention your old pal, Kris always referred to Joe as “that famous friend of yours.” Was Joe’s celebrity really all that mattered to anyone? What about his favorite Chinese food, or his theory about the end of Easy Rider? He was a motherfucking person.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get much worse, it got so much worse.

You had just closed up shop, paying no mind to the last-minute mall rats who still bustled around the other open storefronts. Before you could make your way too far past the flower shop, someone tapped you on the shoulder.

It was Joe, who proceeded to wrap you in a big hug the moment you registered his surprise presence.

He was gone for what felt like longer than ever before, but he looked way more happy to see you now, than the last time you reunited. You threw your arms around his shoulders and he lifted you off the ground for a moment, exchanging merry hello��s.

“Alright, alright! We have a guest.” Joe set you back on your feet, gesturing to a very tall and happy looking fellow you recognized from many photos.

“Gwilym.” You proudly smiled up to him, confirming you knew of him well enough to be happy to see him here now.

“Y/n!” He pointed at you, as if this meeting were a long time coming.

Joe went on to explain how Gwilym had been staying with him the past couple of days after all the press tours and premiers were over. And how they drove all the way back here to Joe’s measly hometown because his mother insisted they both stop over for brunch, so she could get the chance to see Joe’s friend. Apparently, she adored Gwilym. You could see why, even just having met the guy, he oozed a certain gentle charm.

Joe knew to find you here at the mall, because you’d kept up your promise of sending the occasional text message update when something more than mundane happened in each of your lives. You listened to him and Gwilym yammer on about how exciting the past couple of months had been for them, taking a beat to notice how good Joe looked. There was a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen since you’d been back in the states.

And then you saw her. Lacy was leaving her shift down the way. You watched her realize just exactly who was talking to you, stop, and turn in a very big hurry in your direction.

“Joey!” She shrieked, rushing up to your best friend. Gwilym was practically shoved aside by the girl on her mission to invade Joe’s personal space. What was even more unsettling was how Joe seemed glad to see her. He pulled her into a friendly embrace that she squealed during. Even though you and Gwilym had just met, the two of you shared a befuddled expression trying to reason why you’d both been left on the sidelines all of a sudden.

Even when Joe pointed to Gwilym, introducing the strangers to each other, Lacey didn’t dare turn her gaze from Joe. She didn’t miss a beat as she went on saying;

“I’m so glad you’re here! So listen, my sisters are throwing this big party and I promised them I’d get you to come. I wanna show you off!” Lacy swayed in place, looking up to Joe through her fake lashes.

“Oh, wow uh sure, when is it?” Joe smiled, pulling his phone from his pocket as you crossed your arms, realizing you were invisible to her now. Lacy gave Joe the details and had the nerve to sweep her eyes over you as she skipped away. What the fuck? She’d spent all month popping in to “say hello” to little old you, but now that Joe was around you’d become irrelevant. She was only trying to get to Joe and you knew it all along, but you were still fuming at her disregard for you during the past couple minutes.

“That was weird.” Joe realized with a shrug, watching Lacy walk away. You knew if you responded you’d only blow a gasket, and luckily Joe was interested in moving on. Gwilym stood watching on in near comical horror as Joe snapped everyone back to business.

“Alright, listen this is very important.” Joe grabbed your shoulders, wearing another hopeful grin. “I want you to come back and stay with us, this weekend. But the thing is you need to say yes right now, cause we’ve got to leave right now.” Joe nodded. You realized he was serious or he wouldn’t have tracked you down at the mall, with the excitable, dashing Gwilym in tow.

///

Gwilym was put to work charming the socks off your mother as Joe raced you up the stairs to help pack your bags. He was desperate to make it to some very specific pizza place before it closed for the night. You just laughed as he threw your clothes into an old JanSport, before stealing it from his grasp to finish packing your thing; full of mostly new clothes you splurged on with your first big paycheck. As you packed them to wear, you felt strangely like life was finally taking a turn for the better.

When you scurried back down the stairs, Gwilym had managed to make a cup of tea and was busy trading some recipe with your mother who was sad to see him go. Joe rushed the pair of you out the door and off onto an adventure.

Gwilym insisted you take the passenger seat on the way to the city and begged you to expose the depths of your Spotify playlist, from the back. The car ride was spent laughing about the musical phases you’d all gone through, and rocking out to the classics everyone loved.

“Hey, this is fun.” It hit you as you gazed at the cars zooming past the speed limit on either side of the freeway, and you didn’t feel usually dreadful. You let the comment slip out without thinking about it, without thinking of Gwilym in the back who might have wondered why you’d be shocked to find a road trip suddenly appealing.

But Joe knew, and he smiled as if to disguise a frown. He seemed to get this same strange look on his face when you even slightly alluded to your recent past.

“John told me what happened, why didn’t you?” Joe asked, quietly, worriedly.

Oh, yeah. Your car slid off the road last month.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.” You shrugged, almost too much like a little kid. But you caught a glimpse of Gwilym in the back, pretending not to notice the shift in conversation. So you reached to turn the music up, and Joe reached for your hand.

Then you all declared this weekend was to be dedicated to nothing but having fun.

///

You made it to the city in time to hurry into Joe’s favorite pizza place an hour before closing, where you and Gwilym played the basic twenty questions of getting to know each other. And there was no stopping the way you each roasted Joe into oblivion, making him laugh all the while.

Joe’s apartment looked different than it had in all the photos you’d seen. The walls were decorated in old family photos and there were plenty of knickknacks you recognized from the years gone by, and some you didn’t. Stepping foot into his home felt strangely invasive, and you felt funny for wishing you’d been here more times than just this once.

You thought it was only natural that Gwilym took the only guest bedroom. The guy was one hundred feet tall, and you had no business taking up Joes spare California King. But Gwilym insisted the couch was just fine by him, and it was a big sofa after all. All of his bags seemed to be resting in an armchair nearby, anyhow. You couldn’t justify arguing, and soon you were shutting yourself into the spare room with sleep on your mind.

That was until rain pelted against the sealed window next to you, and you swore you saw a draft blew the blinds back. You cursed your hasty packing. You’d only grabbed an oversized tshirt instead of a sweater. After a moment of bringing your bare knees to your chest to get warm, desperate times called for desperate measures.

The apartment was dark, and Gwilym was peacefully sleeping on the L shaped sofa, borrowed knitted throw blankets decorated across his form. The glow from the streetlamp outside the kitchen window provided enough light for you to tiptoe toward Joe’s room, where soft yellow light seeped through the bottom of the door. Was he still up, too?

You knocked softly, in case he was asleep and your silly request wasn’t meant to matter. But you heard a shuffled from close beyond the door, and soon it creaked open.

“What’s up?” Joe asked, seemingly a little surprised to see you, but it was hard to read his face in the dim doorway.

“I just forgot a sweatshirt. Could I borrow one?” You asked sheepishly, folding your arms out of shyness and a bit of a chill.

“Yeah of course.” Joe breathed in sharply, turning on his feet toward his closet. The door creaked open further and you noticed Joe rub his eyes, before reaching to grab an old college sweatshirt. What was up with him tonight?

“Hey…” You cautiously began, slipping into the room and clicking the door shut. “Are you alright?” You padded toward your friend as he barely turned toward the sound of your voice.

“Uh,” Joe seemed to decide as he gently shoved his sweatshirt toward your grasp. You instinctively held it to your chest but dropped it the moment Joe turned away and started drifting toward his bed. Before he could totally answer your question he started to cry. The second you registered his snivels you darted toward where Joe stood quickly falling to piece. Then he began to explain himself.

“We said our goodbyes and everything, I shouldn’t still be so sad.” Joe croaked, covering his face with his hands so you couldn’t see his broken expression. But you felt the weight of his sadness stomp your heart out.

“You just miss him, Joe. It’s okay to miss him.” You missed his dad too, but saying so seemed selfish. Joe was still catching his breath under his hands as you pulled him toward his bed where the covers were already turned down.

You laid him down and wasted no time curling up next to him, pulling his head toward your shoulder. Joe sheepishly latched onto you while he steadied his breathing, and neither of you spoke. You just smoothed down his hair while he grabbed onto you. Joe was stronger than before.

“You are cold.” Joe noticed, chucking a little into your hair. But you sort of forgot your reason for coming in his room or the goosebumps that decorated your bare legs. You were completely comfortable in his arms. His embrace made you warmer than any sweatshirt ever could. You felt attached to him, but simultaneously cautious of the affection, you didn’t deserve this kind of all-encompassing comfort. Why was Joe’s embrace so much more multiplexed than it had been some odd years ago?

Joe was quiet, but the silence was heavy with whatever was on his mind. You could tell he wanted to say something more, but he never did. You lay together in understanding silence, trying to unravel your tangled thoughts about it all. But the effort made you tired and you drifted off there with Joe.

You woke up later, completely unsure of the time, but noticing the sun had yet to rise. Joe was still lying against you, now in peaceful sleep. You almost felt bad for squirming out from under him. You would hate to disrupt him, and his body was warm against yours. But you knew you couldn’t stay. Tiptoeing toward his door, you scooped up the previously abandoned college sweatshirt, squeezed through the door and back down the hall to the guest room. It was still cold, maybe even colder now.

///

Later that morning you awoke to a clattering from the kitchen. You slid some short on under Joe’s sweatshirt and ran your fingers through your hair before padding out of the guest room to discover what was happening.

Joe and Gwil were dressed for the day, drifting around the kitchen, arguing over something like an old married couple.

“Good morning mom and dad.” You snickered, grabbing your bottle of water from the night before, and watching Joe and his friend point to the oven. Joe shot you a look but turned his gaze back to Gwilym to finish the argument.

“If the fork comes out clean, it’s ready!” Joe pointed to the oven.

“Yeah, but you stuck it in the side, not the middle! You gotta go for the middle!” Gwilym argued. You took a sip of water and watched on in amusement. Had they really woken up and headed straight into baking something?

Joe turned to you, making some kind of whine as if pleading for you to help him prove his point. But Gwilym was right.

“He’s right.” You pointed your bottle toward Gwil who proudly sauntered behind the island to join you there.

“Ha!” Gwilym boasted.

“Ha? That’s the best you’ve got?” Joe playfully jabbed.

“It’s Welsh for ‘fuck off I’m right.’” Gwilym falsely reported, trying to save his comeback. Hey, that was good. You might steal that one. Joe laughed but looked at you with that same funny little micro-expression like he couldn’t choose between horror or sadness. But you couldn’t help go on smiling.

“You’re from there, right? Wales?” You moved your eyes toward Gwilym, who leaned against the counter toward you.

“Well no. Me mum is. I’m a fraud.” Gwil rose a brow and made you chuckle.

“Well, that’s a shame. We could have had our own secret language.” You gently admitted. Gwil kept a curious eye on you as he moved to sit next to you.

“You speak Welsh?” He asked, reaching for his cup of coffee across the island.

“I lived there for a while.” You shrugged.

“What the hell! Joe’s talked for ages about you but never mentioned that.” Gwilym cast a befuddled glance to Joe across the room. Joe talked about you back when you weren’t talking to each other? He was occupying himself with putting a couple of dishes away. You couldn’t read his face when he stepped closer toward the opposite side of the island. Joe responded by lifting his phone in the air and snapping a photo of you and Gwilym in the middle of the morning lit kitchen.

“What was that for?” Gwilym laughed.

“Something to remember you by when the oven catches on fire because we left this damn dessert in too long.” Joe fanned his hands around. You laughed out loud, utterly delighted to be amidst the chaos. You’d missed this side of Joe. His wit and spunk had sort of all but fizzled out through the winter. It was nice to see he hadn’t lost his touch.

The photo he took was accidentally wonderful. The bright kitchen looked like heaven around you and Gwilym, sleepily leaning on the counter.

“I’ve got to post this! Or do you want too?” Gwilym asked, pointing to the picture on your phone. You had an Instagram but scarcely used the platform outside of admiring other people’s posts. Something about how excited Gwilym became and how pretty the picture was made you excited to open the old dusty application. You sent the photo to yourself and posted it to your Instagram without hesitation. It looked like the start of something new. The bright white photo stood out among the rest of your grainy theme, mostly filled with photos of you and Tegan from the pub in Wales. You tagged Gwilym and Joe.

///

That day became a game of sneaking candid photos of each other. You snuck up on each other as you strolled through the city streets and snapped shots of one another buying ice creams and looking in storefronts. But the game got out of hand. Gwilym took one photo of Joe when he was least expecting it, as he was standing on his tiptoes to reach for something in a candy store you’d fallen into the trap of. Gwilym decided it was blackmail, and then the game was on. You got a photo of Gwilym taking a massive bite of lunch and Joe got one of you making some dumb face as you had to wait in line to use the restroom.

All the while, you felt hyper aware of your surroundings and started to take more photos of stickers on light poles and titles of books that were far too expensive but probably cheaper on resale somewhere. You watched Joe open a picture book of old school baseball players. You couldn’t help but snap a shot of the way he held the book open upon the stack of others. His long fingers ghosting over the pages like a treasure. The sun casting patterns across the scene.

“What is happening to you?” Joe laughed at your newfound hobby.

“We’re having fun, remember? I am anyway.” You chuckled, raising your camera inches from his face to snap a photo and giving him a mischievous grin before you scurried away. Joe’s laughter followed you out of the shop and all around the city.

That night Joe hyped you and Gwilym up into getting a little dressed up and going to a bar after dinner. Luckily the newer purchases you packed included a nice enough dress. Then you ended up at a piano bar. Something stuttered in your heart when you noticed the excitement in Joe’s eye’s as they peered into yours. You hadn’t played the piano since you sold your keyboard a couple of years ago. You barely even thought of playing, actually. But Joe clearly had picked this place for a reason, with the knowledge that it had always been your dream.

The piano bar was complete with green naugahyde and mahogany wood, totally stuck out of time but still classy somehow. The crowd varied in age, and you were charmed to find a girl younger than you playing the baby grand on the risen velvet stage.

You, Joe and Gwil sat in the middle of the room, at a cozy table. You ordered dark drinks and listened to each other’s stories while other peoples chatter blurred into the background. Joe ordered something fruity with a straw and held it in front of you, insisting you try it. You took a sip and looked to your friend with wide eyes to confirm it was super good. Gwilym snapped a photo of the two of you then.

“Awe, see, that’s the opposite of blackmail!” You chuckled.

“Or is it?” Gwilym shot you a menacing grin as he stood to order a new drink at the bar. Before you could decode his secret message, a voice caught your attention.

A nice looking gentleman with a German accent tapped on the microphone at the front of the stage as your friend walked away.

“Tonight we are inviting you lovely crowd to come up and play if you know how, or even just want to. Don’t be shy, but do take turns!” The man encouraged, slinking off stage while waving for the crowd to get up and muck about.

“You should.” Joe leaned forward, speaking quietly just to you. His soft gaze made your heart crack a little. You weren’t about to do that. But you almost wanted to, just because of how excited he looked. Had he known this was going to happen? Or was he just dazzled by the hands of fate opening this random door?

“Oh, I don’t know.” You shrugged sitting up a little. Joe did the same, following your gaze. “I haven’t played uh… for a while.”

“Oh, really?” Joe frowned. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You knew he chose this place just for you. But you couldn’t lie.

“I sold my keyboard years ago.” You sorrily shrugged, recalling the time you had no other choice to pay rent. And realizing now that you never told Joe out of some kind of shame. You’d moved overseas with big plans to play, and they all crumbled around you.

“Oh…” Joe bit his lip and got that look in his eye that you realized he always got at the mention of Wales.

“Okay listen.” You turned to Joe, gently demanding his attention. You’d had enough wine to delve into this conversation. And you had finally become fed up with how Joe always seemed more upset that you at the mention of your past.

“Kris and I were like… broken up or something for like, months near the end. Things weren’t good. All I’m saying is that things with him were over before they ended for real. And I don’t miss him. I don’t. I know I should. That’s what keeps me up at night. But I don’t miss him. So please don’t look at me like I’ve lost everything.” You spoke, reaching out touch Joe’s arm. He uncrossed them and turned to face you then with an answer.

“What happened to your 'it’s okay to be sad’ speech from last night?” Joe furrowed his brow, speaking a little louder than you had been to get his point across. But you didn’t feel better for talking about this, like you thought you might.

“This-” You sighed a groan, wanting to suddenly move far away from this topic. “This is different. My life in Wales died when Kris did, okay?” You decided, getting a little angry at the end of your sentence. You wanted to move on. That’s when Gwilym reappeared, a new drink in hand.

“Should we… maybe call it a night?” The lean Brit suggested, glancing between you and Joe. Your friend looked like he had more to say, but you couldn’t go on talking about it all tonight.

“No!” You demanded. “Sit down right now so we can have fun!” You’d gotten your first taste of good times after fearing they’d never come again, and you weren’t ready to give them up.

“This place is beautiful and I’m glad you picked it out, Joe.” You looked to him sincerely and his once-troubled expression softened. You hadn’t realized you left your hand on his knee until his fingers rested on top of yours.

///

After a few rounds of drinks and jokes about things you missed laughing about, you found yourself locked away in Joe’s guest room for the second night in a row; comfy in the sweatshirt you once asked to borrow (now sort of taken hostage.) Your phone rang as you turned down the bed, and you answered right away.

“Helllooo!” Tegan chirped from the other line right away, like she’d been waiting on to hear from you for weeks on end.

“What have I missed this time?” You laughed, snuggling against a heap of pillows.

“Me! You’ve missed me. Actually, I suddenly feel like I’m the one missing out.” Tegan playfully scoffed on the other line.

“Well, of course, I miss you but what are you talking about?” You wondered. Tegan knew the only activities that filled your days were sleeping, working and occasionally seeing Joe.

“I’m talking about the dreamboat in your Instagram post! What kind of bender are you on? Does he have a hot brother or would he be interested in-”

“Oh, God.” You cut her off with a laugh, afraid of what she might say next. “He’s Joe’s friend from the movie. And that’s all.”

“So he’s single and ready to dial my number then?”

“Well, he is Welsh.” You chided.

“I know, I stalked his profile long before this interrogation.”

“So then what’s with the twenty questions?” You laughed. Tegan never failed to keep you guessing.

“I was trying to get you to admit you miss me and this place so much that you’d found a tall handsome fellow to bring you back round.”

“No, no I’ll come back on my own someday, dear.”

“I know.” Tegan lowered her voice as if someone else might have been listening.

“I’ve got to find my sea legs though, yeah? I haven’t had a nightmare in a couple of weeks.” You proudly state, tossing the covers over your legs.

“That’s because you’re living the dream, honey,” Tegan stated, as if she really meant it, as if it wasn’t a joke.

After chatting a while longer about how she’d been managing the pub without you and filling you in on the happenings about the quaint little Welsh town, you had to call it a night when your eyes could hardly stay open.

After you hung up, your phone buzzed a few times in a row. Who could possibly try to be getting ahold of you now? You checked to find a notification from Instagram, about a new follower. Assuming Gwilym had just finally got around to liking the photo you posted featuring him, you went to go admire it one last time. But before your eyes focused on the photo in question, a shocking number arose from your notification button.

You had hundreds more followers and more than a thousand likes on your newest photograph. below hundreds of comments.

y'all are so CUTE!

Why is Joe tagged?

Is that his sister?

Where is Joe?

Oh shit, you thought. These boys really mattered to people who didn’t know them. They found you all because you’d tagged Gwilym and Joe. They wanted to know why Joe was tagged. They cared. The astounding influx of followers and likes alarmed you for a few seconds, as you stared at your profile, wondering if you should delete everything. But why? You were proud to finally have something to post about that wasn’t old a grey.

Just as you thought of closing out the app, another notification popped up, unlike all the rest. Joe had tagged you in a photo. He’d just posted the picture of the two of you that Gwilym had taken at the piano bar. The one of you drinking from the glass Joe is holding while you’re looking at each other. In his caption, only a couple of music note emojis.

///

Gwilym left the next afternoon, with a long face and a suitcase full of New York souvenirs. You hugged him for a long time at the loading gates of the airport and laughed when he lifted Joe off the ground for a hug of his own. You weren’t sure if you’d ever see Gwil again, because that’s how life worked. But instead of worrying over it, you felt happy to have gotten to know him.

Joe started the long drive back to your hometown. He blabbered on about how he needed to help his mom with something anyway so he was glad you came along in the first place, just so he could drop you back off again. But you started to feel bad about how long you’d spent mucking about Joe’s flat and wasting his newly valuable time.

“I can drive a little, if you want.” You nervously offered to spare him a little while of responsibility.

“Do you want to?” Joe shot a curious glance your way as he drove out of the city.

“I don’t mind.” Because, no you didn’t really want to. But you would.

“It’s okay,” Joe assured, settling back against his seat, both hands on the wheel.

“Well, then I can give you gas money, yeah?” You thought. You were suddenly desperate to pay him back somehow for the weekend.

“No,” Joe laughed unbelievably. “Why are you being weird?” He was still chuckling.

“Because! This weekend you’ve been absolutely way too generous. So let me do something for you! Are you hungry? I’ll get us dinner.” You waved your hands to make your point and turned to face Joe from the passenger seat.

“I guess I could eat, yeah.” Joe smiled, nodding his head toward the road as he drove. You were a couple of hours away from home, and thirty minutes from a few good stops.

“Alright! Cheesecake Factory. No buts! Step on it!”

“Do you have Stockholm Syndrome?” Joe outlandishly quizzed. You laughed. “Do I have Stockholm Syndrome?”

Joe continued to imagine insane scenarios all the way to the Cheesecake Factory. You skipped inside together and put your name in at the desk. There were three other families ahead of you in line, and a big party that had followed in just behind you and Joe. You didn’t mind the wait, and leaned against the wall next to Joe, clutching the restaurant buzzer in your fist.

“We’re going to tell them it’s your birthday, so get ready.” You smiled as if you were kidding, but you weren’t. There was a deep desperation in you that demanded you shower Joe with the kind of attention he’d shown you this weekend, and always now that you thought about it. You were tired of sulking. You were ready to get back to the way things should have always been.

“Why can’t we tell them it’s yours?” Joe jabbed your side, his sparkling eyes looking into yours with a question.

“Because tonight is very special all about you night.” You reminded as if this had always been clear.

“Alright well, I want to tell them it’s your birthday.” Joe decided, imitating a snotty brat, sticking his nose in the air as if to make his decision final. Just as you started to laugh and curse at him, someone snaked their way through the waiting area packed with people and stopped in front of you.

“You two!” A voice rang. You were looking at Joe when you heard it, and watched his eyes turn in recognition. A girl with mousy brown hair dyed blue at the tips stood in front of you, and she looked the same as she had in high school.

“Keeley!” You practically shrieked, pushing yourself from the wall to wrap her in a hug. Keeley was one of your closest friends from high school. She would invite you over to play guitar hero and help you cheat on homework. When you weren’t riding bikes around town with Keeley, you were usually with Joe, but on many treasured occasions you could be found at the baseball diamond as a trio, when her little brother was on the same team as Joe’s brother.

“I didn’t realize you were back in town.” Joe hugged the girl after you had your turn. She went to Chicago after graduating and you slowly stopped texting each other long-winded updates over the years, even forgoing checking in on social media. But there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings.

“I didn’t realize either of you were back in the country!” Keeley laughed, looking between you and Joe.

“Oh, God I’m sorry, babe-” Keeley turned around and wrapped her fingers around someone’s wrist. “This is my fiance Rebeca.” Keeley beamed a smile at a woman with big brown eyes and a timid smile.

“This is Y/N, who I will always be indebted to for getting kicked off the volleyball team when she took the blame for the time I slashed the principal’s tires.” Keeley fawned over you as you shook your head in remembrance.

“And this is Joe, our resident movie star and the only person who has ever beaten me at Scrabble.” Keeley gestured to Joe as her fiance cocked her head. You knew that look. Joe did too.

“Hey- weren’t you in that Queen movie?” Rebeca pointed up to Joe with a smirk. He let himself smile and started to give a coy nod as he turned his eyes toward you, for some reason.

“That’s why you were so excited to see it, huh?” Rebeca turned to Keeley and your old high school friend started to laugh.

“I’ll always go see your movies, Maz. I’ll even sit through shitty cop shows just to see that cute face of yours. You’re really good, ya know that?” Keeley gave Joe a playful punch in the arm when your buzzer started to go off.

“I’m still much better at Scrabble than anything else.” He smiled.

“Man, we’re being summoned.” You frowned, holding the timer in view.

“Call next time you’re in town!” Joe demanded toward the girls, preparing to follow you toward the desk. You reached out to give Keeley a quick hug. You waved to Rebeca and assured it was nice to meet her as the ladies turned to leave.

“Come on, birthday boy.” You grinned, looping your arm through Joes and foiling his plans to foil yours.

“It’s your birthday? Happy birthday!” Rebeca called over her shoulder.

“Thank you.” Joe sighed through his teeth, dragged you away giving you a look that made you laugh out loud. You totally won whatever game you were playing tonight.

But just nanoseconds before Keeley and Rebeca were out of earshot, you heard your friend’s fiance gush “They were so cute together!”

But you were too distracted by a friendly hostess to let the distant comment sink in.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

#joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine

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comicteaparty · 4 years

Text

June 13th-June 19th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from June 13th, 2020 to June 19th, 2020. The chat focused on the following question:

What is your physical and digital workspace like when you’re working on your story?

🌈ERROR404 🌈

LOL it really depends on what stage I'm in of the process - My storyboarding space is at home, as comfortable as I can be, a beer and some food at the ready and pure silence. The cats have to be freshly fed, otherwise I'll be harassed and lose my headspace entirely LOL. I usually work on my story boards digitally, just at a very small scale, with my script/outline on my computer and working on my ipad! The double screen helps a LOT, although i would just print out the script if I had access to a printer, haha. When I'm working on the actual page itself, it's a very different story. I usually just try and work on it in tiny little batches during the day when I'm stuck at home, and usually work around the animals as best i can, lmao. Truthfully, I really prefer to be in a coffee shop when I'm working on finishing pages, it makes me so much more productive than i am in this house with so many things to take care of right in front of me, but, obviously, that's a bit difficult to do these days. ;; I usually reserve food and drink until after I pass a milestone in inking/sketching to help motivate me to keep going for as much as I can before taking a break, and I need some kind of music or video playing in the background to keep myself from being absolutely bored out of my mind. My shading process, since it's in black and white, is very easy and i can finish it in one setting, easy, no matter what I'm working with. I also work digitally for my pages, of course, although I don't need more than my ipad and clip studio for it!

DaeofthePast

freshly fed cats

🌈ERROR404 🌈

They are BEASTS when hungry, the little bastards (love them)

I may only work in peace when they're post-food napping lmao

DaeofthePast

we only have one, but same

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I work almost entirely in the corner of my IKEA couch at home I used to work at a proper desk with a Cintiq, but when I switched to Procreate on an iPad, I migrated to the couch and surrounded myself with a nest of clothes and blankets and books and... here I am, bein' cozy. With terrible posture But when I was between jobs last year, I did rent a little coworking space down the street so I could get out of my pajamas and go get comic stuff done there. It was a godsend. I like drawing at my favorite coffee shop every so often too, but I tend to hide my work while I draw, and there, everyone can look over my shoulder The coworking space had a tall artist desk that was rarely used, so I often grabbed that one. Not cheap, but to stave off cabin fever, heck yes, worth it.

🌈ERROR404 🌈

Ahhh I've been really thinking about getting a studio space one of these days I really shouldn't rn, with my finances as they are, but I could REALLY make use of one recently

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I loved the space I used last year. They recently had to close for... current-event reasons... and are going to reopen with all sorts of plexiglass barriers between the desks I feel so bad for them. Good studio spaces are wonderful, I would support them again if I ever was out of a job!

🌈ERROR404 🌈

it's good they've found ways to make it safer, though!

carcarchu

My old workspace was in the basement of my home in canada and it was always perpetually freezing even in the summer and i was frequently visited by spiders so my current workspace is a huge improvement in that regard. I do miss my old ergonomic desk chair though. I'm definitely not the kind of person who can draw in bed or on the couch. I need to be in workmode and having a designated space just for that is necessary for me to get in the right headspace for that.

DaeofthePast

my workspace rn is just my desk with my laptop and my drawing tablet. my laptop is stacked on top of a pile of books so i can see the screen (otherwise my tablet blocks my line of sight). it's kinda simple

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

Depends. I have a Cintiq Mobile Studio, so I can draw pretty much every where and sometimes in the oddest position, but most of the time I am on my desk with the cintiq hooked up to a second monitor so I don't have to look down so much.(edited)

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

For Wayfinders: Thumbnails are somewhere cozy and the only physical work. Me and Q sit and plan them out together. The rest of wayfinders are made on Photoshop, and flat colors in clip paint studio. In the world I would love a nice studio place in an office with others. During corentine I have been working from home, and I am not that good at it, being quite the extrovert. Before corentine I was in a artist residency where I worked on Wayfinders which had a workstation and all the programs we could need. It is so nice and me and Q are going to return there when it opens up again!

Miranda

I have an iPad so usually on the couch, cozied up with coffee and pillows and blankets. But sometimes at the table. But usually on the couch like the gremlin I am

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I have a large drafting table, a mini drafting table, and a lapdesk in my papasan when we ink/draw! Toning and letters are all done on the desktop in its own space

Miranda

I need to get a good lap desk. But that sounds like a grand setup!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

My first time hearing about a lapdesk

Omg I need one

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

They are the best things ever Mine has just the pencil holder !(some come with cup holders and its a waste of space imo)

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Wow I like your setup of the drafting tables

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I wanna show pics of them....if im allowed in this chat?

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

I hope so, I'm not sure which channel we can post studio photos at? I did see some did before?

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

Ill post in shop talk since creator babble gets archived

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

my current space is uh.... a bit better than my last one. I used to work on an old writers desk for a decade and I did most of my comic work sitting there cramped up with my desktop taking most of the space. Now I have an L shaped desk where I have my desktop on the shorter end. The longer end it's my pen, pencils, and watercolor stuff. my display tablet occupy the space at times so switching from digital and traditional without worrying about setup hassle is a lot better than what I dealt with before lol.

I'm glad the days I had to curl up and draw with no privacy are long gone now

kayotics

I’ve got a little drafting table where I draw all my comic pages. I’m messy with my pens so they’re kind of strewn about until I start to lose them. Then I put them back. I’m not particularly neat. I spend most of the comic process off the computer, so most of my digital work is just on an iPad where I can sit anywhere. I try to keep good lighting around my drafting table and there’s always loose eraser shavings all over.

Natasha Berlin (Pot of Gold)

I got myself a lil corner desk by the dining table. Not as well-lit as I'd like, but it's decently ergonomic and I started putting posters on my wall Plus I can leave work mindset easily by turning off my computer and forgetting about the dark corner in the dining room XD(edited)

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

My desk is really sloppy and covered in all kinds of junk. I have a harmonica, a ball of yarn, a bunch of ink bottles, etc on my desk. I have my sketchbook under my tablet and usually a notebook somewhere for writing. My tablet sits to the right of my laptop (on top of sketchbook) while I'm not using it and when I'm using it it goes over my computer keyboard. I sometimes have a glass of water or some food sitting to the lefthand side

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

The only thing I wanna share about my workspace is this

once i spent over three hours looking for that damned pen

never again

🌈ERROR404 🌈

Ajkdhfkjs the models for hte magazine im crying

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh my God

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

mad giggling

Deo101 [Millennium]

youre gonna manage to lose the string

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

omg

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i know in my heart deo is right but still i hope

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

You should weld a metal chain to it

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Watch me lose the whole tablet

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh nooo

I believe in you!

TaliePlume

My workspace is a black table with a white, yellow, blue and green tablecloth with 3 black chairs. It's next to the kitchen. On it, is my laptop and the left side is my clipboard, 3 blue folders full of writing. Then above it, is 3 sketchbooks and another blue folder from a class that I took in community college.

June 16, 2020

sagaholmgaard

I have one long desk at almost three meters. On the left side is all my coffee and tea supplies, in the middle is my work space and on the right is my dining table xD I get everything done from there, despite having a mobilestudio so I COULD sit anywhere and work, lol. It's a blessing during holiday seasons to be able to bring it everywhere, but at some I like my designated working space. Although I am moving in a few weeks, so who knows what my new workspace will be

Moral_Gutpunch

My workspace is anywhere I can draw or write. It's more of a "Will I be interrupted over something petty or stupid" issue than space. Not that I don't want more space.

Mitzi (Trophallaxis)

My workspace is a big, broken corner desk I managed to lug out of an old apartment when it was gonna be trashed. Before then, I'd just draw in bed. I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure the folding chair I sit at is a similar affair. It's got a Dollar General throw pillow on it so I can at least say I'm trying to save my back. The top of the desk is a mess of mostly old bottles and cans, pencils, incense ash, and my old tarot deck. I love this setup dearly. This is the first time I've ever had my own desk space, much less a space I can decorate or leave as messy as I want. Got my own art up on the walls with sticky tack and all! Also the cat's scratching post is directly behind me, because we've learned the cat won't use it unless it's as in the way as possible. What can ya do, lol.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh cats...

Desnik

I got spoiled with an adjustable desk. It is six feet long, and has a whiteboard top for noodling with dry erase markers

my main computer is set up on an adjustable stand so it floats over the desk, and then I have my cintiq, which we tried to mount on a similar stand but then it was just too heavy

I keep my dice collection nearby because fidgeting helps think things through sometimes

and rolling to make odd decisions never hurts

lately during the quarantine I've been sharing the office with my spouse so we've had to establish rules over when it's okay to bug each other(edited)

oh yeah and we also have a whiteboard installed in the office, and it rules!(edited)

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

Mine is pretty simple: I have a laptop that's long stopped being portable and is now mostly just sitting at my desk at all times and a 19 inch Ugee as my display. I usually keep a lot of stuff on top of my desk, but it's mostly just a mess because I have been using it for work too for a while now

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I suppose I'll talk about my setup too :) My main setup is where I do digital art. I share an office with my SO, so we both have workspaces on opposite walls from each other. I work on a corner desk that holds my beefy computer, two monitors, and a Huion Kamvas GT-191. That's where I draw my comic and pretty much everything else done digitally. Ngl, it's a mess right now. I have comic notes and location floor plans in sketchbooks and DnD character sheets spread out all over the surface, and random pens and sticky notes. In the corner of the room, we have a nice large-format printer where I produce prints for conventions. I actually sketch my pages on an iPad pro in Procreate, so during the sketch phase, sometimes I'll just bundle up on my couch and do it, or before quarantine, sometimes I'd sketch on the go. My other workspace (which hasn't gotten much love as of late tbh) is a drafting table in the corner of our living room. I keep a tabletop easel on it and my Copic markers, as well as whatever I'm working on at the moment. (RN it's some ink washes.) The drawers hold all my ink, pencils, erasers, etc. Next to the drafting table is where I keep all my large charcoal, graphite, and oil pastel drawings (mostly school projects), and my large paintings. Other than that, I have a nifty little cart where I keep painting supplies :) I will say, this setup is by far an enormous improvement from my previous setups.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #comic tea party #ctp #creator interview #comic creator interview #creator babble

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fictional-scenarios · 5 years

Note

May I request a continuation of the last Aizawa one where the reader is a villain? It would be cool to see how they clean up their act and how their relationship starts. Thanks for your hard work on everyone's requests. :D

something even more new

pairing: aizawa shouta // reader

a/n: since this is kind of a broad request im do headcanons that turn into a scenario :3 enjoy!!!!

part one!

warnings: none!

Since your last encounter with the hero EraserHead, you really are sure that you left that scene a changed person. The day after you told yourself that the call had been too close, that he really was planning on turning you in. He would have if you hadn’t caved and begged, dropping your cocky and playful attitude. You had to plead with him just for a final chance and fuck if you weren’t going to make it count. Not that you had much of a choice, afterall. If you got into trouble again you doubt he’d let it ever slide again.

A week later you finally take the first step in bettering yourself. You ghost whatever little friends you have who you’re sure would work to turn you back. You burn your suit, throw away and crush the stolen items you’ve accumulated over the years. It’s hard as hell even if you were never the most sentimental person in the world. Once your room looked nearly barren, you let out a deep sigh and flopped onto your bed, one of the only items you bought yourself with your own money upon moving into the city. Without all the mementos of your past staring you in the face, you finally feel like you might be able to breathe a little bit better.

The next step you take is finding a proper job. While you wished you would have sold all your stolen goods when you got rid of them, you knew it was better this way. You weren’t a crook anymore, and non-crooks got money the same way of everyone else does. You apply at whatever cafe you can, fill out the resumes and stealthily throw in that you’re a very ‘flexible’ person who can work many different jobs at once. Quick on your feet, easy to get along with. Of course no one knows just where your accumulated experience is from, but you’re sure you can come up with something on the spot. You’ve always been good with your words, after all.

Luckily you get an interview from a local cafe just a few blocks away from your tiny home. It’s very lax from the looks of it, mostly focusing on coffees but also bears a nice section of books and comics. Easy enough, but already you can tell it’s going to be boring compared to your old job. You get the job on the spot, the elderly owner more than happy to introduce a new member to the team. They’re all mostly older but there’s a few people your age, all of which are oddly suspicious that they’ve never met you before. You tell them something that isn’t entirely a lie: you never really got acquainted with anyone. Kept to yourself, spent most of your time working. Of course they took it without batting an eye and welcomed you to the cafe with open arms.

Working a position so mundane was one of the harder parts of ‘getting better’. You were always a person who’d love to get thrilled, lived life on the edge, so spending your time serving frappes and selling brownies didn’t really make you feel like you were getting the excitement you so craved. Every now and then you would have fun with your coworkers or you would spark up a conversation with a customer over a book they were buying, but you still found yourself daydreaming now and then about your old pastimes.

More specific, you would daydream about your old interactions. Eraserhead, namely. You missed taunting him, bounding roof to roof with him on your tale. It was always a game of cat and mouse and you enjoyed every single moment. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since then, but perhaps that was for the best. He likely wouldn’t even recognize you anymore. You certainly wouldn’t.

About a month into your new found life, you started feel yourself longing to slip back down that hill. Little things here and there, the urge to take some money from the register or snag a watch off a customers wrist. You were always confident in your skills and despite the break you were sure you could pull off your stunts just as easily as you always had been. At one point it the urge gets to bad that you almost cave. A customer leaves his wallet on the floor right by the exit and it would be so, so easy to just take it. You can see him outside the window typing on his phone, completely unaware. With no one looking, you take a deep breath, slink to the door, and pick it up. It’s heavy in your hand, the man surely has a lot of money stored away. You could steal it. Slip away and take it somewhere it would never be found. No one would suspect you- people lose wallets on the streets all the time. It would help you pay your bills now that you aren’t making nearly as much…

As you bite your lip, you make a choice that seals the deal.

“Sir!” You hollar, pushing the door open. The man stops typing, looks up at you like you’re insane. The closer you come the more he can see what you’re holding, and soon enough he’s patting his back pocket with wide eyes.

“O-Oh!” He gapes as you hand it back to him. “I had no idea…!”

“Hah, yeah. Woulda sucked to leave without your wallet.” You rub the back of your head sheepishly. “I’m just glad I caught you in time.”

“Thanks so much, this really means a lot.” He eyes you for a moment. “Y’know I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here save for working at the cafe. Live nearby?”

You shift your weight. “U-Uh yeah. Just moved here recently so I haven’t really…”

“Moved in yet?”

Despite having lived in the area for years, you nod. “Yeah. My place is like, empty, hah.”

Not a lie, but not a truth either. The man seems to bite, smiling warmly at you and saying, “Well, see you around. Thanks again, it’s nice to know we’ve got good hearted people like you in the city. We could always use the extra kindness.”

You sputter, “Have a great day, sir!”

When he nods, you turn your back on him almost a little too quickly. Heart in your throat, sweaty hands, for some reason that was one of the only things you’ve ever done that have shaken you. You’ve never been a friendly face, let alone someone considered ‘kind’. The mans words for some reason resonated within you, made you feel a strange sense of appreciation that you’d never really experienced before. Though unsure if it felt good or bad, it was definitely new.

As you step back inside the cafe, you’re stopped by a voice.

“Wow. So you really have taken a new wing.”

Instantly you’re searching everywhere, only to stop at a figure crouched atop the archway leading into your workplace. Wearing all black as always, hair messy and falling around his face, Aizawa perches and watches you from above. He’s just as scruffy as you remembered, but not nearly as annoyed. He doesn’t look as troubled as he always does when he’s chasing you through the city.

“Eraserhead.” You place a hand on your hips and flash him a cocky grin. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

It’s a line you’ve said time and time again. He scoffs, and for just a moment, it feels like old times. He narrows his eyes at you, and this would be the moment you’d start running, but this time you don’t. For once you have no reason to. He leaps down and sizes you up, eyeing the nametag and the flour covered apron you wore.

“Never guessed you’d apply here of all places.”

“What, I can’t like coffee?”

He shrugs loosely. “Didn’t say that. Just not used to seeing you looking like a normal person.”

“Wow, thanks.” You deadpan. “This was the first place that called back, and I’ll take whatever I can get.”

Aizawa shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight. “So you’re suddenly just an all new person?”

“I mean, I guess. I’m trying to be.” Looking away, you sigh. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“You seem like you’re doing fine.”

“Yeah. Better than I thought I would be but…”

“You miss it.” Aizawa finishes for you. “Or it’s a habit.”

“Both.” You give an empty laugh, and he grunts. Flashing him a cheeky grin, you know you don’t nearly have as much confidence than you would if he busted you mid plan. If anything, you’re sure you look more nervous than anything else. “But hey, we had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”

The way he rolls his eyes makes you laugh again. “You were a pain in my ass.”

“Yet you always let me go.”

A pause worms it’s way between the two of you. You stare at him, he stares right back, tired eyes still watching as if he’s trying to decide your next move. Perhaps he doesn’t really believe you’ve changed, or maybe he just isn’t sure how to interact with you beyond an energetic chase. You break the silence before he can, reaching out and taking the door to pll it open. Without making eye contact, oddly docile, you say, “I’m taking my lunch, if you want to sit with me for a bit.”

Aizawa is quiet, but then he shrugs, follows you inside. You leave finding a seat to him as you walk behind the counter and clock out, hollering to your coworkers in the back that you’re taking a lunch while it’s slow. Taking a seat across the table from Aizawa, you bring both you and him cups of water. Strangely he speaks first, the moment you sit down.

“Do you like it here?”

It catches you off guard, but you nod regardless. “It’s fine. Boring, but fine. Keep’s me out of trouble.”

“Good.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I’d hate to have to turn you in after all this hard work.”

“What can I say? You scared me straight. You’d make a good security guard, you’ve got the scary eyes.”

“Thanks.” He grunts, and you flash an insolent grin.

“Anytime.”

His eyes follow the menu along the back wall as he speaks again, mumbling, “I thought you were going to skip town.”

“I thought about it but…”

His eyes flicker to you. “But what.”

“But I guess I realized running wasn’t really… An option anymore.”

“I’m surprised.”

“Why’s that?”

“Seemed like running was your favorite part.”

“It was,” You brighten. “Until you were actually going to turn me in. Suddenly it wasn’t as much fun anymore.”

Aizawa picks up his drink and takes a sip, huffing a laugh as he brings it to his lips. “Now look at you. Serving coffee with a smile.”

“Well that depends on the customer.”

“Mm. New life but the same attitude.”

“I mean I can’t change everything.” You tease. “Gotta keep some part of my identity. Plus,” You lean forward on your elbows, eyes devious as they always used to be. “You love my attitude.”

He almost chokes on his drink, and you let your head fall with laughter. This is what you missed, even if it wasn’t the same anymore.

“Not funny.” He grunts once he’s caught his breath, and you try to stifle your remaining giggles.

“Very funny. Hilarious, even.”

“Don’t forget I still have the power to turn you in.”

It’s an empty threat, you know it is. You poke the bear anyways, just as you always had.

“Me? Break a law? Eraserhead you should know me better than that. I’m just a simple person making some coffee and selling some books. I’ve never even so much as looked at a villain a day in my life.”

“Yeah, yeah. Such an innocent, law-abiding pedestrian.”

“Yep, that’s me!” You point at yourself with your thumb. “Model citizen right here.”

Aizawa scoffs, but it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him do so without the bite. Without the venom, the irritation.

“Good,” He says. “Keep it that way.”

You hum in amusement. “No promises.”

“You better. Don’t make me have to do checkups just to keep your ass out of prison.”

Your brows raise. “So now you’re trying to keep me out of prison?”

“If you ever paid any attention you’d realize that that’s what I’ve been doing since the first time I caught you red handed.”

Whatever cockiness you had before was punctured, your eyes widening for a moment. “Seriously?”

“You were such a pain all the damn time. It would have been much easier to just let the authorities handle you but,” He sighs and looks into his drink absentmindedly. “I saw potential.”

“Potential…? What kind of potential?” He lets his eyes wander around the cafe, the cheery signs, then he lets his eyes fall back to you. He stares at your nametag, and you frown. “You saw potential in me being some simpleton waitress at a cafe?”

“Being a good person. And by the looks of it, I was right.”

“You can’t prove that.” You cross your arms defiantly, eyebrows raising.

“You gave that man his wallet back when you could have easily snatched it for your own.” Aizawa’s eyes are on yours, and you slump your head down to your shoulders. Damn him for always getting you in the end, one or the other.

That strange sense of appreciation bubbles within you again. This time you cope with it differently, and you realize that it doesn’t feel bad.

“Shut up.” You grumble. “But… Thanks.”

“For?”

You shrug. “For seeing the potential, I guess.”

Leaning back in his seat, he sighs out. “Yeah. Don’t make me regret it.”

Despite knowing you’ve got nothing against him, you can’t help but give him a toothy grin. “No promises.”

“Don’t make me check in with you.”

“What if I do?”

“Then I’d have to keep tabs. Make sure you’re on the right path.”

“So you’ll visit me?”

“If I have to.”

“Here?”

He eyes you for a moment, catches the glint of excitement in your words. Although you’d never expect it, the corners of his lips upturn just enough to soften his expression.

“Once a week.”

“Only once?” You hum. “That leaves six other days to get in trouble…”

“Twice, then.”

“I dunno….”

“Three times. Take it or leave it.”

“Well how can I say no when you’re just so eager?”

“Could you at least try to hide your excitement?”

You giggle. “I knew you liked me.”

“Alright, that’s it.” He starts to get up and you leap, reaching out to grab his wrist.

“Wait, I’m only joking!” As he starts to sit back down, you smile. “Three days a week. Right here.”

“Three. Only three.”

You look down at your drink before flicking your eyes right back to him. “Never more?”

“Don’t push it.” He mumbles, and you realize you’ll take whatever he’ll give. Three days is a blessing.

“____!” Your attention is suddenly yanked away, and you see your coworker standing at the register. He’s one of your newer friends, someone you felt oddly close to despite your naturally high walls.

“What’s up?” You ask.

“Are you done with your date? You’ve got five more minutes.”

You gawk. “O-Oh! This isn’t-“

“Hey, no judging!” He cuts you off when you flush. “But seriously. Don’t clock in late or boss will have a fit. He’s a cool guy but he hates late-punchers.”

Aizawa sighs and stands, and immediately you’re flooded with disappointment. For the first time you’d been having fun with him, conversing. No chasing, no fighting or one liners, just… A nice conversation.

“I have to be leaving, anyways.” He says, and your face falls. He rolls his eyes. “Are you gonna start crying?”

“Maybe. I’m a bit softie now, remember?”

“Softie my ass.” He grunts as you stand up. You follow him to the door and as he pulls it open, that same disappointment only gets heavier. Regardless, you grin at him when he steps outside and turns back to look at you in the opening. “Bye.”

You go to say goodbye, but then it hits you. “Wait!” You call, and when he turns, you say, “I don’t even know your name. Just Eraserhead.”

Aizawa slumps his shoulders. “Aizawa.”

“Alright then, Aizawa,” The way his name feels in your mouth is… Nice. “I’ll see you in exactly… 2 days from now!”

“Yeah. Think you can make it?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good.”

He turns his back on you once more, and you let the door shut. Albeit still upset at the loss of him leaving, you can’t help but feel excitement building up in your stomach. Three days a week you’d have coffee with him. Just coffee, but it still made you light up in a way you hadn’t felt before.

As you clock in, your co worker pesters you about Aizawa, and you find it hard to not get even more excited talking about him. How you were going to make it two days you had no idea, but finally you were happy with the choices you’d made. Whatever urges you had before were gone, demolished.

This was going to be good for you, you could feel it it in your bones.

#aizawa shouta #something new #part twoooooooooo #im excited for this tbh #i hope yall like it!#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #headcanons #scenario #imagine #fanfic

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felixoffelicis · 5 years

Text

Intro to Bite (HPfic)<pending>

A/N Im posting this here cause its not letting me send it to my friend through PM. This is just the intro of what im currently working on, and if I end up posting it ill do so on my wp account @Falling_Snow.

The event that changed everything for me had been simple and unimportant, something that I'd forgotten about a couple days after it happened. It wasn't violent or fear-inducing. There was no struggle or cry for help, and the act itself had only taken a split-second of my time when it happened. However, that one event would create a personalised hell that I'd never be able to escape no matter how hard I tried or how hard I tried to kill myself. An innocent action that spawned the blessing I considered to be the curse of Death himself.

Looking at the beetle that was the size of my closed fist, it was hard to think that the thing could ever hurt me, despite my father's strong statement that I shouldn't play with anything he brought home from his work at the Ministry. Not heeding his warnings, I had done so anyway. I was only ten, and of all the things my father brought home to work on, a beetle seemed like an innocent thing to inspect.

I'd been naive when I'd thought that the beetle was completely harmless, and when it had bitten my arm I had simply been annoyed rather than in pain or anything of the sort. I'd just put the beetle back in its cage as retaliation and gone on with my life, forgetting it had ever even happened.

There'd been no sudden fever or burst of unimaginable pain, no superpowers like the muggle comics, no evidence that anything had changed. It left no mark to my skin despite breaking the surface, and my child-self was content with putting a plaster over it and forgetting the whole thing.

I grew up.

I finished my magical education at Durmstrang and made lots of friends before my family decided it was best to move to Muggle London for my father's job at the Department of Mysteries. I met a muggle girl there named Kristen and pretty soon I found myself telling her about the magic world, asking her to marry me only a few days later when she accepted me wholeheartedly.

I became an Auror at the Ministry of Magic and after finding a natural talent for the detective work behind Magical crime I was promoted to Detective, and soon after that, Head Detective. All the while, Kristen cared for our two children, Rosealine May Skokvist and William Quinn Skokvist, one of muggle blood and one of wizard blood, both loved dearly despite their differences.

I solved crimes at the Ministry and watched my children grow into kind and talented adults. I walked my daughter down the aisle when she married a muggle tailor in London, and I was there when my son became a Potions Master and received his certification at the Ministry. I was infinitely proud of them both and cried when I held my grandson for the first time in a muggle hospital room.

However, it wasn't long after that I returned to that same hospital with Kristen, where a doctor told us she was very sick and wouldn't last for much longer.

I took her to every Healer at St. Mungos I could, but they could do nothing for her. I was holding her hand firmly in my grasp when she passed, becoming numb to my surroundings as the funeral was planned by my son and daughter, both of which who constantly were at my side through everything.

I buried myself in my work then, choosing to be productive rather than wallow in my sorrow. Kristen wouldn't have wanted me to stop my life just because she was gone and I was determined to live the best life I could for her until I could see her again in the afterlife.

Yet, I became reckless and flippant with my life after that, taking on more dangerous cases that my coworkers advised me not to pursue. Which is how I ended up in a duel in an alleyway in Manchester, swapping spells with a much younger and stronger wizard than myself. No matter how much I trained to become an Auror, there was still nothing I could do when I saw a green spell flying towards me in what felt like slow motion.

I thought of my kids and how they were going to take the news of my death. I thought of my 6-year-old grandson whose birthday was coming up in 3 months. I thought of Kristen holding my hand that night she left. I thought of all the things I'd never gotten to do and the people I'd never made amends with. I thought of how incomplete I was leaving things.

But that killing curse never hit me.

Instead, time itself seemed to stop completely and I was left staring at the curse that was inches from my chest.

Then, slowly, time resumed, but it didn't resume forwards. As images flashed in front of my face at a speed that I couldn't even register, I began to realise that this was it, this was what death was like.

This was my life flashing before my eyes, and soon there'd be a white light that would lead to the afterlife or maybe even just a void of nothing, whatever was there I was about to find out.

The white light came soon enough, exactly as how it was described in books and muggle films, blinding me to a point where I had to blink a few times to adjust my eyes. But when I opened my eyes and registered the image I was seeing, I couldn't quite comprehend what was in front of me. It seemed completely impossible.

I was on the back porch of my childhood home in Sweden, with a light summer breeze gently brushing my semi-long hair away from my face in a way that baffled me even further. I hadn't had my hair this long since I was a child, and with my current surroundings, I wasn't sure what to expect next.

Was this the afterlife?

As I took in my surroundings once more and registered what was in front of me, I felt my breath catch in my throat, because there, on my hand, it's tiny little fangs having just left my skin, was that beetle that had bitten me so many years ago.

The golden pattern on it's back shimmered in the sunlight of the early afternoon, exactly the way I remembered it to when I'd been a kid.

I sat there for a moment, not noticing or caring as the beetle scuttled off beneath the old boards of the porch, leaving me in stunned silence.

Here I was, a ten-year-old boy again and there were no signs of Death lurking around the corner, come to take me to the afterlife I was supposed to be at right now. Was this really the afterlife? Was I dead? It all felt real, and as my mother called me to come inside for lunch I wasn't sure what my next step should be.

The beetle I'd been bitten by was a scarabaeus tempus, a beetle used in the creation of time turners once they were crushed up, and a beetle I knew shouldn't have done anything to me with a bite. I'd heard my father talk about the beetles countless times for his work, and never once had he mentioned the possibility of what I was currently experiencing; albeit, nobody would know until it came to their death. But even then-- I should have died, there should've been-- Why was I here? Why--? None of this made any sense.

I looked down at the small barely visible mark that the beetle had caused, the wound hardly bleeding at all and easily explained as a simple bug bite once I'd wiped away the blood. I knew I still had to be in some form of shock, wondering if this was Death's idea of a joke, and if it was then I wanted him to know I didn't find it funny.

Somehow, I was stuck in a giant time loop.

I'd lost my life, my kids were gone, my job was probably still occupied by that bigot Riley Morris who had it before me, and there was the possibility that even if I killed myself right now I'd just return right back to the moment after I'd been bitten by that beetle.

After a few minutes of truly processing this, I realised I was crying, and even when I noticed it I didn't stop. I had just lost and gained my entire world, and now I didn't know what to do with it.

It was all gone.

My life had completely been swept clean and given back to me anew.

My parents were alive here, my wife was out there somewhere, and I was easily the most skilled Detective the Ministry had ever had and it would be easy to retake my position.

But did I want to?

Kristen wouldn't know who I was, I'd already solved every case that would now be presented to me, and the children I might have with Kristen in this life might be completely different than Rosaline and William. Could I live with myself, knowing that I knew everything about them and they knew nothing of me? If I went to go find my wife 10 years from now would she call me a stalker for knowing so much?

What was I supposed to do now?

Did I continue living what I had before all over again, or did I live something else?

I hadn't even gotten my Durmstrang letter yet, and I wasn't even entirely sure I wanted to receive it after already knowing so much magic. I'd be light years ahead of any first-year student.

My second run through the loop, I disappeared.

Using ageing potions to make myself appear older than I was, I immigrated to France, working small jobs and reading up on anything and everything to do with time magic. Eventually, I became well-known in my field under a pen name where I published much of my research, still not coming close to the reason why I was here.

I still mourned the children that were never born in this time loop, but I stayed away from Kristen, only ever finding her a year before I knew her cancer would grow worse and giving her a letter stripped of anything that authorities could trace back to me. I knew I wouldn't have the strength to face her myself. After all, in a life where she never met me, she already had another at her side when I set the letter on her doorstep.

At first, it hurt to know that the Kristen of this time had someone else, but I had to remind myself that this wouldn't be my Kristen, and she never would be. It was lonely, but I spent that time doing things I'd always wanted to do instead of wallowing in self-pity for myself.

I invested in muggle products I knew would get big in the future thanks to my knowledge of it and spent a lot of my time in muggle casinos and fancy hotels, not ever truly enjoying the cash when I knew all it took was one trip down the stairs to take it away and set me back to where I was on that porch. Yet, there was still that conflicted hopefulness in whether or not I'd die or not.

As the years dragged on and my 77th birthday passed by without a killing curse aimed at my chest, I began to seek more purpose, investing myself to politics and working my way through position after position until I was elected into being France's Minister of Magic at 79.

I carried the position with pride and found real purpose in it, doing everything in my power to bring the French magical community times of peace and valuable change for the better. I tore down prejudiced laws and allowed my people more freedom, doing my best to form a personal connection with those who I led.

However, I retired soon after my 90th birthday, spending the rest of my life in a forest cottage in the French hills, taking up a hobby for woodcraft and constructing furniture before I "died" at 128, my body going through the reversal process again as my second life in the time loop flashed before my eyes.

Once again I was on that back porch.

The third life I knew what I was doing and didn't waste time. I went directly to my father and told him what had happened to me, forcing him to understand just how dire this situation was, and he listened, even though his ten-year-old son seemed to have just lost his mind.

We worked day and night on trying to understand what was wrong with me, the prior knowledge I had from my second run through the loop still cemented in my brain even though I hadn't been able to take it with me. I didn't have any of my notes or research, but I still had enough new information for my father to patch together things in his own research at the Department of Mysteries.

But no answer made itself known.

I began to study genetic magic, making groundbreaking discoveries at the age of 14 that I kept to myself to avoid major outrage. The Muggles were close enough to making designer babies, I didn't need witches and wizards getting their hands on the same ideas.

The only answers I could find in my new field of study led to more and more questions, seeing as whatever the beetle had done to me must've changed not my magic, but the codons of my DNA in a way that I wasn't even sure was fixable.

I experimented on mice, and other creatures before trying to remove the gene from my body and was met with excruciating pain that felt like how I'd imagine a crucio felt, my hearting feeling as though it stopped in my chest.

And then time reversed itself and I was opening my eyes to the view from my back porch, the distant lake and trees of the Swedish landscape greeting me back from my 4-year trip.

I tried again.

And again.

I tried so many times I lost count, restarting over and over again until I eventually threw a bombarda directly beneath my feet, effectively blowing everything up for about half a second before I was once again reversed in the loop, staring at the beetle there with frustrated tears in my eyes.

It was difficult, and I spent a long time lying on that porch trying to accept the situation I was in, but I told myself I was okay with this, and that I could make this a gift.

It was only a curse if I let it be.

Life after life I kept pushing through, knowing I'd only end up back on the back porch if I gave up, and I was really starting to hate that place despite its beautiful scenery.

I avoided those I met in past lives.

I set goals for myself at the beginning of each life.

I experimented in blood magic and made myself a time-free home inside a trunk, similar to that of Newt Scamander's briefcase. Although, mine was a bit bigger.

I ruled countries, magic and muggle.

I raced cars on Japan's mountain roads.

I owned all of Canada at one point.

I invented an unimaginable amount of useless kitchen tools.

I invented spells people couldn't even dream of.

I trained dragons in Romania.

But I still couldn't escape.

However, the 12th loop through time I found myself attending a magic school in Africa as a transfer student, revelling in the home away from home feeling that these old buildings seemed to give off. I became the Headmaster by 43 and started my new quest of wanting to be the Headmaster of every magic school, with my eyes set on Hogwarts the next time the time loop reversed itself and deposited me on the back porch once more.

Little did I know that the 13th loop in time was where my story would truly begin anew.

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littlehungrywarrior · 7 years

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there’s a lot of things about me that are fucking absurd and really cool, so when ppl ask me to tell them about myself, i break em out immediately (”my family heirloom is a severed head named oswald,” “I can see disney studios from my house,” etc)

but just bc im bored and I feel like it, here’s some stuff about me that I dont think I’ve ever really talked about? not secrets, but just...mundane things that I don’t really ever say in favor of Ice Breaker™-type things

I have a profound respect for mail services. When I was 7-8 years old, we watched a documentary in class about how the postal system works, its history, and about the various jobs involved. It was an extremely formative experience for me. I don’t send a lot of things over snailmail and so I’m not really sure how to express my respect and support but it’s definitely there. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to play the FallOut game where you’re a mail carrier, but I wanna... I wanna.

Though I’ll claim to the ends of the earth that sports confuse me, I am a huge speed-running enthusiast. One hobby/interest/self-esteem exercise I have is that I really like to learn jargon/lingo involved with...anything, really. So I started watching speedruns to pick up the lingo and I just...became infatuated. I’m no expert but I’m %100 into it for more than the lingo at this point; I’ve long since got that covered. One of my favorite parts is golf-clapping along with other fans when something cool/impressive happens.

I can’t sleep without a hat on. A beanie, specifically. When I was, like...5 or something, I was terrified of vampires, and for some reason I thought vampires bit the skull and not the neck. So I pulled my blankets up over my head at night. My parents thought this was dangerous (I might suffocate) so they gave me a hat to protect myself with. I’ve long since outgrown my fear of vampires (and learnt that they don’t typically bite skulls) but I’ve associated hats with nighttime safety for so long that I can’t fall asleep without one. In the event that I don’t have one, I can wear underwear on my head to suffice...and I think I wore a stuffed animal once somehow but idk.

I’ve had my SPiN in genetics for so long that 5-year-old me used to infodump strangers at the grocery store. When I asked where babies come from, my dad got me a picture book written for kids specifically to answer that question. We still have it; my brothers used it, too. It starts by explaining pollination and then extends the same concepts to dogs and then humans. Most of the information is on pregnancy and fetuses rather than sex, and cell development immediately caught my fascination. I asked my parents for more information about this and they gave me some more microbiology stuff. Combine that with my animal obsession + budding interest in heredity and you’ve got a tiny obnoxious geneticist who wouldn’t stop telling random people in line at the grocery store about how chromosomes are passed on through haploid cells. Dad got real smug about it, it was fantastic.

On a similar note (and I have no memory of how this actually happened), I more or less learnt to read spontaneously? All at once? Again, I have no clear memory of this until the part where I can read... My parents read to me every night but I never was able to do it myself. I had a huge library built into the wall at perfect me-height for reading. One morning, the summer I turned 5, I (according to legend) walked up to my parents, got their attention, said “I’m going to read now,” and then (this part I do remember) sat down and read every single book in that library over the course of two or three days. Super rough estimate, but it was somewhere between 70-200 books, with a variety of target ages ranging from 3 to 10-11. No chapter books, all pictures, but the second I was finished I wanted more books. My mom took me to the store to buy more and insisted I get a chapter book since I’d burnt through the picture books so fast. And that’s where I got my first Warriors book.

That was not the last time I read an entire library. In 7th grade, a friend of mine and I both had sex ed previously and so were allowed to skip that year’s sex ed on the condition that we spent that class in the school library. And together, we read the entire thing. Only what was on the shelves, though; nothing in the back. Actually, at one point on the last day, we’d already read every book in the place and we were bored, so we pulled some books out of the back to look at and none of them caught our interest. One of them was the first Hunger Games book WAY before it got popular. We’d never heard of it, both read the first 2 pages, didn’t like it at all, and put it back. You should’ve seen our faces when it suddenly blew up into a huge thing. The sad thing is, I remember a lot of books that I enjoyed but can’t find now because I can’t remember any specific titles or characters. We sped through everything to finish it all and didn’t really take a lot of time to absorb details so a lot of them are lost to the vague, hazy back of my memory. Still looking for that manga where the ninja kid...stops an evil scientist from...some kind of virtual world machine. There’s a piranha tank? And then the bad guy...gets sniped by a helicopter and falls off the roof, or something? Also there was a manga version of Maximum Ride, which I only remember by name because 2 chapters in it suddenly hit me that this was a comic version of a text-novel my mom was reading at the same time. I bought a handful of books from that library at the end of the year and still have them.

I’ve only been in one play but something fucking sweet happened during production. I was Malvolio in Twelfth Night because, and I quote my drama teacher (who had known me for 8-ish years at that point and also who was smirking her ass off when she said this), “You’ll see why when you read the play.” She was not wrong and to this day that smug fuckin grin gives me life. Anyway, I was Malvolio, and you know that “Some have greatness thrust upon them” speech that everyone’s so inspired by? That speech is a fucking prank pulled on this asshole and it’s about bangin’. So the scene is that I dramatically read this “””love letter””” I’ve received and then run off to go embarrass myself. The speech is LONG and so I asked if I can just...actually have it written on the letter. And she said yes! So I wrote it down with intent of reading it off the letter. But opening night, the actress who was to place the letter grabbed the wrong paper and so I got just a blank sheet. Guess fucking what? We’d re-choreographed that scene so many times the night before that I slammed that shit anyway, word-for-fucking-word. And I was never mad at my friend for grabbing the wrong paper, so I say this in jest, but her punishment for grabbing the wrong paper is that the entire cast/production team did not hear the end of my pride for the entire week. For a timeframe reference, I was 12.

When I was a kid I had a horse named Emmy. She was a rental horse. Actually, I think she was a pony? The way the rental worked was that she lived in a barn with a bunch of other horses. Her owners were a small business who gave riding lessons, but instead of just riding each session, one of the horses was “yours” (assigned by age, height, and temperament, not picked by the kid) to take care of while you were there and ride consistently every session. Essentially, she was only my pet when I was on the property. I can still ride but I’ve gotten rusty and I can’t do anything above a trot for more than a few seconds. Both times I’ve jumped have been accidents, once on Emmy and once on mom’s current horse, Meteor. I’ve fallen only once, and it was off Emmy. Mom’s going to be getting a gigantic thoroughbred soon and I’m both terrified and excited to ride this very large boy.

I talk about this in person but not online because...why would it ever come up online?? I have worn the same style of red jacket every single time I leave the house since I was a pre-teen. It’s to the point where people will only recognize me if I’m wearing it. I had a friend in high school who was/is a really cool guy, we were seniors and we’d been close friends since freshman year. I had my jacket tied around my waist because of the heat. The school had two campuses a block apart and I was walking from one to the other to get something. Friend was walking from the other to the one, so we passed each other. Wordlessly. No wave, nothing. I was tired, it was hot, I didn’t really think anything of it. Then suddenly, a foot behind me, he freezes dead in his tracks and says my name with some kind of stricken shock. He had no idea it was me. At all. Keep in mind: my jacket? Tied around my waist. Not even off, just around my waist. Since then I’ve used this jacket thing to my advantage. Sparingly, I can take it off to sneak around. It’s like I’m invisible to people I know unless I say something and they hear my voice. It’s incredible.

Going back to speed running, way before I knew that it was a thing at all, I taught myself to speedrun two games: The Lion King (PS2, not the impossibly hard one) and Putt Putt Saves The Zoo. As they were unofficial speedruns that I didn’t really call anything and just kinda did when I was bored, I never timed the latter, and I only timed the former once using my mom’s kitchen timer. It was a rough estimate since sometimes I paused and forgot to hit play for a few seconds, or I needed to pause but didn’t for a few seconds, and the timer only counted full minutes anyway, but I still remember the time: 35 minutes. I keep meaning to go back and re-teach myself to speedrun it, perhaps more professionally, and time it with more accuracy. I still remember all the strats but I can’t pull them off with as much fluidity as I could when I was still in practice. I also can, when watching both Lion King 1 and 2, still point out with frame-perfect accuracy exactly when a scene starts that was a cutscene in that game.

wow writing this was fun and I kinda wanna do it again. ok

#what do i tag this as #me??#me

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