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detectivedreameater · 3 years

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Margarita Monday || Camille and Marley

TIMING: Mid October PARTIES: @carrionxcamille and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Camille comes over to Marley’s for margaritas but ends up sharing a little more than drinks. CONTENT: Alcohol

Relaxing just...wasn’t something Marley really did. Ever. Sure, she took time off and had nights off, but just doing something to do it for, well, fun? Was strange. Having another woman over and not having intentions to sleep with her was also very strange for Marley. But, here she was, setting out ingredients to teach someone how to make margaritas the right way, just to...do it. No ulterior motive, no reason other than to just be normal. Readjusting herself, Marley set out the ingredients-- Dragones tequila, triple sec, cognac, lime juice, and a little bit of simple syrup. Oh, and ice. Marley had had to go to the store and actually buy a bag of ice, considering the only fridge she had was a small drink fridge, and it didn’t make ice. Was that weird or suspicious? Did she care? If this Camille was anything other than what she said she was, Marley could easily get away or fear gaze her. She was in no trouble here. Still, she jumped a little when there was a knock on the door. She looked over, straightened herself out, then went over. “Welcome to Casa Del Marley,” she said in a cheesy tone, even if she did know proper Spanish. “It’s Margarita Monday today, so please come in and make yourself at home.”

Right, this was good. Meeting people, getting out of the house, making connections. Camille was making progress, and it sure was better than spending another tuesday night parked in front of the tv barely focusing on trashy reality shows. She needed more friends, and margaritas certainly seemed like a good way to curb any first meeting awkwardness, even if it was a little college to get drunk on a weekday. Whatever, it’s not like running the park was hard. This would be good for her. This wasn’t her threadbare allyship with Regan, and she couldn’t rely solely on Cece for company either. The greeting at the door made her laugh a little as she stepped in, toeing her boots off by the door, “thanks for having me, I needed an excuse to get out the house.” And an excuse to have a drink a little stronger than a glass of wine, honestly. “You earn points already for the alliteration.” She grins, “teach me your ways, margarita master.”

Marley moved around to the kitchen quickly once Camille was inside, trying not to let the strange feeling in her stomach take too much hold on her. “Yeah, sure,” she said, setting out two glasses and the mixer. “Anything to have an excuse to make margaritas, honestly.” She gave an awkward smile. “Not that I need one, but, you know.” She cleared her throat, gesturing to the ingredients she’d laid out. “Well, first of all, you need the right ingredients. None of that cheap shit, okay?” she pointed at the tequila. “This is the best kind, hands down. People might try and tell you Cuervo or Patron is good enough, but they’re wrong,” she tapped on it, “plus, my girlfriend would gut me if I said anything otherwise.”

It was a long time since Camille had tried to make friends, honestly. With Jace the way he had been she didn’t want people around at the house and eventually being lonely was just easier than trying to make yet another excuse for why the girls couldn’t meet her husband or see her home. But Marley had offered to have her over, she wanted the company too. Of course, Camille couldn’t really afford high shelf tequila right now, but they’d- unsurprisingly- had a well stocked liquor cabinet at home, and she did one day plan to have a set up like it again. “Right.” She nods sagely, laughing a little, “honestly I can’t drink Cuervo anymore anyway, it just tastes too much like terrible college decisions.” She grins, “does your girlfriend work for the company or is she just a big believer in high shelf tequila?”

“As it should,” Marley said, scrunching her nose. “Cuervo is for college frat kids who want to get drunk fast. You need a nice fine tequila to truly appreciate the art of the margarita.” She cleared her throat, trying to move past the awkward feeling in her throat, even if she’d said the word first. “She’s a lady of fine taste, what can I say?” grinned before sweeping her hand to the next ingredient. “Now, some people might also try and tell you that you can use sweet and sour mix. It’s cheap, it’s faster-- blah, blah. But they’re wrong. You gotta do it yourself if you want the best flavor. I use lime juice, salt and simple syrup. 2 parts lime juice, half part syrup. Pinch of salt,” she explained, finding talking about alcohol was much easier than talking about Anita being her girlfriend and what she liked. “Lastly, my special secret ingredients,” she moved down the line again, “triple sec and cognac. Add to taste, of course, but I usually do a shot of each. Really brings out the other flavors. You can add a little orange juice as a spritz sometimes, too, if you’re feeling citrusy. But, yeah--” she nodded to herself as if to congratulate herself on a job well done. “That’s all there is to it. So, shall we try and make some?”

College frat kids who want to get drunk fast? Camille almost winces. That had sure been Jace. Perhaps this whole thing really was her own fault, in a roundabout way. How had she not seen the signs of it when they were younger? Sure everyone liked to get messed up at parties when they were kids, but Jace was always looking for another party to get messed up at. She’d thought- stupidly- it was the social aspect. Jace was a jovial guy, he loved to be around people, that was why he loved parties. Maybe even back then he’d loved drinking more. Uh oh, yeah, she was not going to admit it to Marley but Cam had definitely made a few sweet and sour mix margaritas in her time. It was easier. But then she hadn’t been sure how easy the real method was too-- and honestly it didn’t sound like rocket science. She liked listening to people talk about a passion of theirs, and Marley clearly had this down to a T, so seeing her in her comfort zone made Camille a little more relaxed too, and they weren’t even drinking yet. “So you go pretty sour then? That’s good. I make cosmos sometimes and I always add more lime juice than recipes say too, I just like them sour.” She nods, “doesn’t sound like I’d be able to fuck it up too badly,” Cam grins and picks up one of the glasses, “assuming you start with tequila?”

“Oh yeah,” Marley said, nodding, “the more sour, the better. What can I say? I’m a sour woman.” She stacked two glasses on the counter in front of them and motioned to the ingredients. “It really is hard to fuck up a margarita, it’s more about getting the right proportions so that you can enjoy all the flavors at once. And, of course, making sure you have good tequila,” tapped the bottle again, “yeah, sure. Start with that, I’ll uh-- supervise,” she said stepping back and letting Camille approach. This was still...strange and knew for her, but she was learning that it was nothing to be awkward about. Maybe this was just how normal people interacted. Maybe if she kept trying, she’d actually get used to it one day. She gave a smirk. “Go on, then,” she motioned, “don’t fuck it up.”

Camille laughed a little- actually, she’d been called a sourpuss once, by an older guy at a club trying to grind on her. The memory amused her to this day. Maybe they were both a little sour, but she didn’t think that was a bad thing. “I’m the same with wine, I never like it overly sweet.” She says, stepping up to the counter to start by pouring some tequila in one of the glasses- hey, she was still young enough at heart to know roughly how to pour out a shot. “I’ve known people to use triple sec before, but I’ve never come across cognac. Hey, I’ll trust the master though.” Cam shrugs, adding in plenty of lime juice and salt before pouring some syrup into a measure and adding that too. “I will admit to hating it when people put stuff on the rim of a glass though, salt or sugar or whatever. I’ve never gotten that.” She was sure that too was something about flavor, but the grains just irritated her mouth. Camille knew she liked triple sec, so after a full shot of that she measured out a little less cognac- she’d never been a huge fan- and added that too. “Looks like I managed to avoid total disaster… Or I didn’t make a mess at least.” Obsessively watching bartenders in college to make sure they didn’t mess with her drink had paid off, it seemed. She raised the glass, “cheers.” And took a sip. “Wow. Okay, you’re right. I’m adding cognac to every margarita I make from now on. Damn, that’s good. I don’t even like brandy.”

Marley watched Camille fill up her drink, talking herself through the process. “Cognac just gives it a little extra bite, you know?” she shrugged, “I’m not a big fan of the alcohol on its own, but the slightest touch really does spruce up the most basic cocktail.” Mostly, she didn’t like it because it wasn’t an alcohol she could consume copious amounts of in a small amount of time in order to get drunker quicker. But she didn’t need to say that outloud. “Ah, see! You’re amazing at it already,” she said, leaning back against the counter. From around the corner of the kitchen table came JD, sniffing the air and the new scent in the house. Marley observed him for a moment, before realizing that his horns really weren't anything that normal people would expect on a hare. Or, really even, expect a hare. She went forward to shoo him away, but he scampered under the table and around into the kitchen, right up to Camille. “Uhh, he’s got-- a mutation,” she said, staring wide eyed.

It was all going well and everything was very normal, which Camille was pretty pleased about because since waking up in town she kept getting hit across the face with weirdness. Killer mimes and vampire neighbors and an eyeball where the goddamn sun should be. It was nice to kick back with a new friend and have a drink, and talk about normal things like cognac. She’d been into cocktail making for a while when she was younger, but then Jace’s problem had gotten worse and keeping high percentage alcohol in the house just… Didn’t seem smart. She took another sip and tried not to think about that. “Well it helps to have a good teacher.” Camille laughed, only the slightest of a bitter edge to the sound, “I would know, I used to be a- ah!”

Camille startled when the creature scurried up to her, pressing her body back into the kitchen counter. “Holy hell.” It was, in essence, a big weird looking rabbit. Which would probably not have garnered much of a reaction if it were not for the horns. Horns! Every day something new and totally out of left field. Is it the weirdest thing she’s seen? Well… There were eyeballs coming out of her taps at one point, that was probably weirder. But this-- Camille didn’t quite see how a mutation could give a rabbit horns. Which meant this was the supernatural kind of weird, which meant Marley knew about the supernatural kind of weird. “...Right.” She takes another sip of her drink and sighs, weighing the pros and cons. Camille could pretend to believe her, but there would be an awkward air over the rest of the night. She had enough secrets already. “Y’know, you don’t have to… I- look, here’s the thing, I’m not an expert. Like, I don’t know a lot about it all but I do know that there’s stuff in this town that is…” She waves a hand vaguely in the air, trying to find a good word for it. “Let me put it this way, when I lived in the motel my neighbors were vampires. So, don’t bullshit me. That’s not a normal rabbit.”

Marley watched Camille closely, as she started down at JD. She could see the cogs turning in her head. Most people who wanted to remain ignorant would wave this away and be happy to accept the “mutation” explanation-- but when Camille didn’t, Marley felt herself slowly warming up to the idea that maybe she wasn’t half bad. She came over around the counter and picked up the large hare, hoisting him onto one arm and holding him so his legs dangled below her arm. He sniffed the air, wriggled once, then settled in. “You’re neighbors were vampires? Gross,” she muttered, scrunching her nose, “vampires are so broody and angsty. Oh, my life is so tragic,’ she sighed, putting a hand to her forehead, “I’m doomed to eternal life and I must feed on the blood of innocents! Or...whatever.” She remembered the last vampire she’d known, and how much his disposition to drink blood tortured him. Vampires, for all their monstrosity, could be so human sometimes. “Glad you got out of there, then,” she replied, feeling the awkwardness hang in the air a bit. She cleared her throat. “He uh--” glanced down at JD, “--he’s a Jackalope. Supernatural hare, basically. But I swear he’s nice! Usually.”

Camille wasn’t going to wander around the whole town with her eyes closed. She was in White Crest because she’d died. If she wanted answers about what the hell had happened to her and didn’t want those answers to totally freak her out it would probably be a good idea to embrace everything else weird and wacky going on in town. It was just so… Exhausting. Nothing was normal. She couldn’t even make a new friend and drink margaritas without some not rabbit thing becoming part of the evening. Maybe she just had to get used to it.

It was almost comical the way Marley handled the thing, and how quickly it settled into her arms like it’d been there a dozen times before. It probably had, she seemed to be keeping it like a domestic pet. That was almost… Sweet. And her vampire impression did make Cam laugh. “They were broody!” She agreed, “those walls were thin, I could hear them complaining. Didn’t stop the parade of pretty young girls always going in and out of their room though, so they can’t have felt too put out.” Once she’d found out what they were Cam had started watching for those girls- some of them went back again and again, but what mattered to her was making sure they walked back out. She nods, “yeah. Cece really did me a favor.” Oh how much she had come to rely on the kindness of strangers as of late, it was new. “He doesn’t seem not nice. He just startled me. I’m still getting used to all this stuff, and I don’t really feel like getting into why I’m here in the first place but it.. Yeah, it’s part of my life now, so.” Camille shrugs, staring at the jackalope… She’d heard of them, but it hadn’t occurred to her that they might really exist in this new world. “He’s almost cute. Does he have a name?”

“All vampires are,” Marley said with a little roll of her eyes. “They’re pretty dramatic.“ At least, all the vampire she’d met were like that-- she felt like it almost came with the territory, just like how most mara liked the strange and horrific. Most of them even shared Marley’s love for insects, because unlike most mammals, they didn’t run away scared. “Oh, you know Cece? Like Cece Bishop, Cece? I work with her sometimes.” And somehow knowing Camille knew Cece made Marley all the more relieved. At least she didn’t have to skirt around things anymore. “He’s very nice, usually. Just spooks easy, which is funny, considering--” she paused, frowned, “he’s pretty scary looking.” Marley rustled her arms, cinching her brows. “Almost cute? He’s extremely cute, actually. I mean, lookit his face!” she exclaimed, holding him up. JD responded by thumping his legs against her and leaping out of her arms and over to the couch. “Well...I think he’s cute,” she muttered, looking back over at Camille. “His name’s JD. Short for Jack Daniels.” A pause. “I swear I’m not an alcoholic, though.”

Sometimes Camille worried she was taking all of this too well. But then she remembered her first few months here, the icy cold that had settled over her the second she realized she was supposed to be dead, sitting in that motel room and staring at the wall for god knew how many days without being able to move. Trying to accept it all had practically rendered her catatonic, and she was still struggling, but Camille was no idiot. Even with all the additions the world was still the world and she was still a living thing that needed to make money and survive and carry on.

“I haven’t actually met any vampires, so I couldn’t speak for all of them.” Cam shrugs, and then her eyes widen, “at least… I don’t think I have. I suppose that’s rather the point.” Wow, maybe she had met vampires. Marley could be one for all she knew. It was probably rude to ask. “Yeah, it’s her I live with. We met out at Dell’s Tavern one night and when she found out I was staying at that creepy motel she insisted I stay with her.” She nods, “right, it makes sense that you’d know her too.” The morgue and the police department probably worked closely. They’d probably done that in Boston, when she’d died. Camille chuckled a little at the contradictions, how Marley thought something could look scary and cute at the same time. Though she managed not to flinch when it- JD- was brought closer to her face. He had regular rabbit eyes, all big and innocent and shiny. She did jump when the beast moved suddenly though, clutching one hand to her heart and laughing despite herself. “He can leap like a rabbit, huh? Is he- do you just keep him, like, as a pet?” Cam smiled, “I like JD. When I was in college my roommate had a hamster and we called it Khalua.”

“Count yourself lucky, then,” Marley said with a small chuckle. “Oh, trust me-- you’d know.” It was a strange thing, to find someone so...okay with all this weirdness. Even Erin had been a little freaked out by everything at first, but maybe Camille had just skipped past it all already. Or she just hadn’t seen the freak out and was getting the after effects. She shrugged. “Yeah, Cece’s like that.” She didn’t know Cece all that well, but from what she could gather, the woman liked to feel useful and help others. And was a bit nosey. “He’s a hare, actually. Common mistake. Hares are bigger than rabbits.” She scratched her chin. “I mean, yes? He’s pretty harmless. He mostly just follows me around and chews on things. Animals don’t normally like me, so it’s kinda nice to have one around that, you know, does.” A chuckle. “Khalua, ha. That’s a good name. I’m gonna steal that if I ever get another pet. I was considering getting another tarantula, they’re pretty low maintenance.” She gave a short pause, before prodding her next question. “So...how do you know about all this stuff?”

“Oh, would I? Well that’s… Reassuring, I suppose.” The only thing that’d tipped Camille off about her neighbors at the motel was how loudly they talked about it. Perhaps they’d been trying to scare her. Honestly at the time they’d been the least of her worries, and she’d even briefly wondered if any attempts to kill her would actually work. Jury was still kind of out on that one, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t going to ask anyone to try it and find out.

Camille nodded, “right, a hare.” The difference wasn’t enough to bother her, but she’d try and remember it. “Ah, I hear most animals are a little bit destructive like that.” She chuckled, it was one of the things that had stopped her from getting a dog with Jace, being too precious about her house. “He was a real hit whenever we had dorm parties, that’s for sure. Even the dean thought he was too cute to tell us off.” The idea of a spider as a pet was… Really not Camille’s cup of tea, but if Marley already had a weird supernatural hare it probably wouldn’t seem so odd to her.

Right. How did she know about all this? Marley was a cop, it probably wasn’t smart to tell her too much about how she didn’t have a legal identity and there was a man in prison for her murder. But… Well, Marley was a cop with a jackalope, and wouldn’t it be a good idea to have as many useful people helping her figure this out as possible? If Marley had a strong enough link to the supernatural stuff, maybe she’d have some information no one else did yet. “Well…” Camille sipped her drink, tapping her fingers against the side of the glass. “How do you know about this stuff?”

.Marley ruffled her nose. “Hey, I asked you first,” she pointed out, frowning. It was strange to not feel affronted by the question, however, and she had to take a minute to pause and decide if that really was one she wanted to answer. A few months ago it would have been a solid and definite no, but now that things had changed in Marley’s life, she wasn’t sure anymore. She waffled on it for a moment, confused by her own indecision. “I’m a cop in White Crest,” she finally answered with a shrug, “how could I not know about this stuff? I know most of the precinct will like to make you believe everyone around there has their head in the sand, but you can’t judge us all because of that.” Even if Marley did. She knew most of the other cops didn’t believe in any of this shit. “I also sort of grew up with this kinda stuff.”

She leaned back against the counter again. “Okay, so now that I played my cards, are you gonna tell me yours?” she asked, nodding at her. “You seem pretty normal, so what could’ve happened to you to clue you in to all this shit?”

Camille lounged back against the counter, tapping her nails against the almost empty glass in her hand and waiting. Whatever Marley had to say she was willing to bet the other woman had been around this kind of stuff a lot longer than she had. The reasoning of being a cop was sound enough, she was willing to bet they all saw some weird stuff. But Regan worked in the morgue and had wings and still managed to be disbelieving of the whole thing. Growing up around it, though, that made Camille relax just a little.

She set the glass down to pull back the sleeve of her shirt and show the sigil on the back of her hand. “I died a while ago.” Camille said, trying to sound more nonchalant about the whole thing then she felt. “Woke up in White Crest earlier this year. With this thing-” She tapped a finger against the mark- “which I did not have in my first life. A lady told me it means I was resurrected and the mark keeps my soul in my body, or something.” Camille tugged her sleeve back down. “So I am pretty normal. Or I was, but it’s kind of hard to deny all this stuff when you know there’s an autopsy report with your name on it.” She shrugged, twisting her hands together, “I figure for now this town is the best place for me, while I’m still trying to get it together.”

Had Marley been drinking something, she would have spit out her drink. Instead, it came up as a cough that felt as if it stuttered and stuck in her throat, and she turned to look at Camille with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say you died? And then-- came back?” That wasn’t really all that uncommon, but Marley had been sure Camille wasn’t a zombie or a vampire-- her tastebuds were too on par. But then she showed Marley the marking on her hand and it clicked-- someone had brought her back to life using necromancy. Marley didn’t know much about it, only that only very powerful spellcasters could do it, and that it was some sort of taboo-- Peter had informed her of this, and reminded her that they were not vessels of death while doing so-- and that Bea had likely also been resurrected. She’d told Marley she’d died after Marley had pestered her about not calling back.

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s fair,” she answered, scratching the back of her neck. “Normal is-- relative, I guess. Even though you’re, well, you know…” she motioned towards her, “you can still live a normal life.”

Marley’s reaction was… Almost comical. Especially in comparison to others. Nell had been matter of fact, Regan in denial. Marley was much closer to what Camille had expected of people. The tequila probably helped, but she actually didn’t feel all that exhausted by talking about it for once, which was a nice change. Perhaps because she hadn’t gotten into the details of her ex husband and the whole ordeal that had brought about her death. She didn’t want too, it wasn’t like she owed Marley anything. Part of normal was moving on. “It’s kind of a lot to process.” She said, nodding. “So I’m trying to take it easy. Just… Getting out into the world again, y’know? Steady job, making new friends.” Camille shrugged, “not perfect but better than nothing.”

She smiled,“actually, it makes me feel much safer knowing we actually have cops who understand exactly what is going on in this town, even if you can’t convince the entire squad.” She laughed softly, moving to set her glass down by the sink and pick up her bag. “It’s getting late. I shouldn’t keep you up all night. But we should hang out again, now that I know I don’t have to watch what I say with you.”

For a dead woman, Camille was pretty casual. Marley didn’t know what that experience was like, but she could understand wanting to make a normal life for yourself. “You really should quit the Cryptid Corner,” she said after a moment, but it was with a sly grin and not a judging one. “I heard that place is haunted.” Marley gave a sheepish shrug. “Well, glad I can help out, then. I’ll certainly do my best to keep this place clean, but White Crest is certainly a...dangerous place. Don’t um-- do anything to get yourself killed again, alright?” She started heading over towards the door with Camille. She wanted to quip about how the night was her time, but she kept her mouth shut for now. She’d already given away too much, and even if Camille had been more forthcoming with all this than she’d originally thought, she still felt exposed in some way. Even though Camille had spilled her entire story, Marley kept hers much closer to her chest. “Uh-- yeah,” she said, confused for a moment. People didn’t often ask to hang out with her again, let alone as just friends. Was this really how the world worked? She furrowed her brow. “Yeah, let’s do this again. Maybe with snacks next time, too.” That’s what people offered, right? She brushed the thought away. “And uh-- thanks for trusting me enough to tell me. You don’t have to worry, either. Your secret’s safe with me.” And if Camille turned on her somehow, it would make for some good blackmail. Not that she wanted that to happen. But old habits die hard.

Camille snorted out a laugh and shook her head, “the closest thing that place has ever gotten to haunted was the one time we had a possessed toilet. A nightmare to deal with but we’ve had nothing since. It’s too lame to haunt.” She nods, “yeah… Yeah I know this place can be a bit wild. Hell, when I woke up here people were being attacked by mimes, so.” It was almost scary how quickly she’d gotten used to it all, but maybe waking up dead could numb you to experiences like that a bit. “Trust me, I don’t have any plans to put myself in harm's way.”

It was true, she certainly wasn’t going to go looking for trouble. She’d even stopped walking around the forest at night, so things were looking up. Another friend who knew her secret, someone else to trust. Camille was sick of being lonely, see, she’d decided this life was going to have friends. “Right. I appreciate it. Enjoy the rest of your night, I’ll see ya.” She gave a cheery little wave before heading out the door, to return to her own home feeling a little more optimistic than the day before.

#chatzy #chatzy: camille #wickedswriting #margarita monday #camille

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tizzymcwizzy · 4 years

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A Stranger’s New Year’s Resolution - Chap 2 - Truths and Lies

THE SECOND CHAPTER IS HERE

Ao3 Link

Chap 1

If you haven’t seen the first post then check the “a stranger’s new year’s resolution’ tag, you’ll find the 1st post there

Summary:

Adrien wasn’t the most extroverted person. Yeah, he could get super lonely sometimes but being around strangers wasn’t the most fun thing in the world. Especially those from his status. Old men and women talking only about money and gossip as they ripped each other to shreds when their backs were turned. The younger generation wasn’t great either. Self-centered brats left and right that had no respect for anything but themselves. So, when seeing most of whom he was forced to spend time around, one could understand why he tended to avoid talking amongst his peers.

Never going to public school didn’t help either. He’d met Nino, thank God, out of a stroke of luck, but having one normal friend in a sea of awful acquaintances can really damage a person’s social skills. Most of his interactions with other people, outside his two friends, consisted of polite conversations, practiced smiles, forced laughter, and shameful agreement.

So, when the well-mannered Agreste was a bit tipsy and sat in front of this clever and attractive girl he nearly lost his mask.

“Okay, okay,” Marinette held up three fingers and grinned, bouncing a little in her seat. “I never learned how to ride my bike until I was ten because I was absolutely terrified of falling, I have never eaten an olive in my life, and…” she waved her hands around drawing out her words as she thought. “Ooh! I once beat everyone in my class in a rock paper scissors tournament.” She stared at him intently, suppressing a grin.

“Okay,” he stroked his chin. “You definitely have eaten an olive before.” He pointed at her and raised a brow. She gave him no reaction. “And, something tells me you definitely won a rock paper scissors tournament.” He didn’t dare look away or blink.

Her smirk just got wider. “What makes you so sure, Agreste?” She leaned on her elbow, sizing him up.

“You aced your AP psychology class, you definitely know how to beat a bunch of high schoolers in rock paper scissors.” He leaned in over the table to match her.

“Final answer?” A sickening sweetness that made his heart flutter laced her sing-song voice.

“Yup.” Adrien folded his hands over the table and under his chin. She didn’t move or say anything for a moment, letting his answers float between them. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him nervous.

She broke the eye contact and sighed, leaning back fully in her chair with a thump. “Uugh, all correct.” She groaned overdramatically.

“Yes!” He fist-pumped and laughed at her defeat. Marinette pouted at him with a scowl. Her nose scrunched up in the cute way it did when she was frustrated.

“What gave me away?” She pressed her hands against the flat of the table.

“You live in a bakery, in Paris. You have to have eaten an olive. It’s obvious.” He shrugged. Marinette raised her brows and smiled.

They’d been talking for who knows how long, on subjects ranging from terrible movies, cooking, color theory, gardening, back to cooking, and then to video games.

He didn’t believe her when she claimed to be a master at Ultimate Mecha Strike three, which led into an intense game of two truths in a lie. In which he was currently beating her five rounds to three. And in the time that flew by, he learned many interesting things. Four of which stood out prominently. One, she had dropkicked someone by accident in the twelfth grade during a Halloween party. Two, she had been in a ballet class for three years until she broke her wrist; she was also apparently absolutely terrible at ballet. Three, she had a mild obsession with anything cat related for the majority of her childhood. And four, the more he learned about this girl the more he was going crazy.

“Hello, Earth to Adrien?” Marinette snapped a hand playfully in his face. “Anyone up there?"

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Ah, sorry I spaced out.” His cheeks felt a little hot.

“Went off to your own little planet, huh?” She chuckled.

His eyes went wide. “I completely missed that!” He put his hands up into his hair as she buckled with laughter.

“Maybe you make so many bad puns it’s like second nature to you,” she said between giggles. “How do you even come up with them?”

He smirked. “It’s not like it’s rocket science, little lady.” Adrien shrugged again. His smile grew wider as she groaned.

“Shut up.” She poked his arm and stuck out her tongue.

“How menacing! I’m terra-fied!” He mocked her with jazz hands, putting extra emphasis on his pun. “And don’t you mean, shuttle up?” He grinned even wider as she reached over the table to smack his shoulder.

“Stop punning!” She barked between laughter. “It’s your turn, don’t prolong the wait before I wipe the floor with you.” She crossed her arms, biting back a smile.

“Astro-service, little lady.” Adrien bowed his head with a flourish. The fire in his chest was only stoked higher with her grumble. Well, maybe there was a fifth thing; teasing her was probably the most fun thing in the entire world. “Okay,” he straightened and readjusted his seat. “I took a karate class but quit after I got a green belt.” She nodded and squinted at him, trying to dissect his story. “I’ve never owned a pair of mismatched socks in my life, and…” He paused.

Adrien picked up a stray pencil on the table and scribbled a small flower on the little mess of a drawing they had started to form on a new page in her sketchbook. There was a crude drawing of a whale, his doing, and a cartoonishly short pirate, Marinette’s, and several other weird things.

“And in my entire life, I’ve pricked myself on a rose fourteen times.” He glanced up at her, her nose still scrunched, deep in thought.

“That’s an oddly specific number,” she tapped her lips.

“Is it?” He tried his hardest to keep a poker face. But for all his professional model training he couldn’t for the life of him prevent the smile tugging on his lips from forming.

“The mismatched socks one is definitely true.” Marinette glanced under the table and lifted his pants leg with her shoe. He almost snapped her pencil in half. His heart picked up the pace and his legs felt gooey. Is she serious? Well, she did dropkick someone. “White socks, with black pants? Who raised you?” She looked back up at him and smirked. His face was probably more red than any ripe tomato on the planet. He laughed awkwardly.

“My king of the fashion underworld father, apparently.” He choked out, taking a nearly desperate sip out of his drink. She’s gonna kill me.

“I barely know anything about karate, but you took fencing, right? Those aren’t very similar, and you can get far more injured in karate than in fencing. So, taking into account your reputation and importance, I’d say that’s the lie.” She pointed a finger up in the air matter of factly.

“What about the roses?” He smiled, regaining his composure slightly, and placed the empty glass on the table.

“It’s too specific of a number for you to have made it up.” Marinette paused with her eyes closed. Then she peeked them open and squinted at him. “Unless you’re faking me out.” She leaned forward and poked him again. His skin prickled where she touched him.

“You calling me a trickster?” Adrien gasped.

“I wouldn’t put it against you, Agreste.” She stuck her tongue out again.

He put a hand to his forehead and leaned over the table. “Oh my, what a scandalous accusation!” He peeked between his hands and found her stifling a giggle. The fire was stoked higher. “The fine lady Marinette accusing me of being a trickster,” he pulled himself back up to the table and shook his head furiously. “Maybe she just doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does.” He leaned in towards her face, smirking wildly.

She didn’t lean back. “Do you or do you not wear mismatched socks, Sir Agreste?” She narrowed her eyes.

“If I told you it wouldn’t be much of a game, right?"

She paused, staring back at him for a while. "You joke too much to not own a pair.” She concluded and leaned back. The air against his face was suddenly cold as she moved away.

“A pair?” Adrien raised his eyebrows. Marinette scowled at him and crossed her arms.

“You own a pair of mismatched socks, you’ve pricked your hands fourteen times, and you’ve taken a karate class.” She listed them off on her fingers.

“Oh, so now I’m unfragile enough to take a karate class?” He tilted his head and smirked at her. Her nose scrunched up again. He’d never get over that.

“Stop it!” She sat up. “That’s my final answer, now is it right or wrong?” She pointed up at him.

He stared at the sharp finger pointing at his nose. Then he looked back to her and grinned wide. “Wrong!” He sang.

“Aauugh!” She threw her head back and put her hands in her hair. Adrien burst out laughing. “What did I get wrong?” She sat up again.

“I’ve never owned a pair of mismatched socks in my life,” he gasped between laughter. His sides were starting to hurt.

“What!” She threw her hands up, bewildered. That sent him into another fit of laughter. “Your kidding! You have to be kidding!” She leaned forward in her chair and chuckled.

He shook his head, breathless. “I- I’ve never gotten the chance to buy a pair.” He gasped for breath, trying to regain his composure.

“At least I know what to make for your birthday,” she murmured. That caught him by surprise. She covered her mouth the instant it slipped out. Her cheeks turned an impossible pink. “I- I mean!” She paused. “If- if I- If we, I-” she tripped over her words and looked away. Her ears began turning the same color as her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I-”

“I’d like that.” He met her eyes again.

“Really?” She almost whispered.

“Definitely.” He smiled at her gently. Absolutely.

She slowly smiled behind her hands and giggled. What would he do to hear that again?

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen!” They were snapped out of the moment by a voice over the loudspeaker. “Here is just a quick reminder that there are twenty minutes remaining until the new year officially begins, the firework show will begin in five minutes. Have a fantastic evening!” They both glanced back at the other.

“Did you want to go see the firework show? I know a really good spot to see it from,“ he whispered and glanced around before winking.

She stared at him, cheeks still pink, hands still cupped gently over her mouth and giggled. "Sure,” she whispered back. He almost fist-pumped. “Let me just just get my stuff,” she stood and began to gather up the pencils littering the table.

“Here,” he stood and closed her sketchbook. He reached to hand it to her before admiring the cover. It was covered in fabric and a black cursive M decorated the corner along with embroidered flowers. “Did you sew this?” He handed it back to her.

“Yeah, I design most of my accessories myself.” She shoved it onto a bag that had a matching design and color scheme.

“That’s amazing,” he glanced at her dress. “Did you design that too?” She looked down at it and pulled at the fabric.

“Yeah, do you like it?” She looked up at him nervously and swung her bag over her shoulder.

“I do.” It was a short navy blue dress that fanned out at the waist. Glitter and gold sequins lined the bottom edges and faded as they went up. It was simple but beautiful.

“Thank you,” she smiled shyly and glanced up at him from under her bangs. “I made this a few years ago, so it’s not as good as my more recent stuff. But I still like it.” She fiddled with the fabric near the bottom.

“Well, I think it looks dress great.” He smirked and puffed out his chest. She chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“You two leaving for the night?” Jackson, who apparently appeared out of nowhere, asked.

Marinette jumped up in the air.

“No, we’re just going to see the fireworks.” He squinted at Jackson, who was giving him a look. “Anyway, can I have the check?” He reached behind him to pull out his wallet.

“Oh, hey,” she batted his arm away. “Let me pay,” she dug through her bag.

“Wha- I was the one who told you to try the drink. Let me pay for it.” He pointed to his chest.

“It’s fine,” she pulled out her wallet and dug through it.

“No, let me. I sat at your table anyway,” he touched her arm. “Come on, my treat.” She frowned. "Please, Marinette?” He cupped his hands together and gave her a winning smile.

“Fine,” she stuck her nose up in the air and turned away. “But I’ll pay next time.” She dissolved slightly. “If there is a next time?” Marinette cast him a glance.

“Of course,” he smiled at her and took the check as Jackson handed it to him. Next time? Oh god.

As he handed it back, Jackson pulled him in by the shoulder. “You take care of that girl, you hear me?” He whispered.

Adrien nodded firmly and blushed. Jackson gave him a kind smile and picked up the empty glasses. “Have a good night, you two.” He winked at Marinette and walked off. Adrien caught her looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Her face was red as well.

“Okay,” he turned to her and pulled his jacket off the back of the chair. “Follow me,” he grinned.

“Lead the way,” she bowed and waved her hand out, gesturing for him to go.

He guided her through tables to the glass staircase near the far wall. Adrien offered her his arm, which she took, and helped her up the stairs.

“Y'know, I’ve never understood these stairs. They’re a hazard waiting to happen.” He shook his head as they reached the second floor.

“I think they look pretty,” she looked behind them and glared at the stairs. “But I can’t imagine walking up them in heels.” He shrugged.

They walked to the double glass doors that lead out to the balcony; it was located in one of the far corners of the upper level. The balcony was pretty small and secluded, and it was freezing outside, so the fact that it was almost deserted wasn’t much of a surprise. All the while, Adrien tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that she never let go of his arm.

There was a man standing next to the door that looked him up and down wordlessly. Adrien flashed a money-making smile and walked past him with confidence. Marinette looked up at Adrien and made a face. He shrugged. “Not sure why that guy was there, but it is New Year’s Eve after all.” He whispered. She nodded and and looked forward.

Not that he’d never been there before. When he said he’d been to this restaurant plenty of times he meant it. There weren’t many happy memories he’d had on that balcony, but the view of a glowing Paris always seemed to pull him out of a bad mood. He opened the glass door and watched as she stepped through. She slowly let her arm fall from his and walked out onto the terrace. The cold December soon to be January wind bit through his clothes, but he could barely feel it.

As Marinette looked out she gasped quietly. The city’s lights reflected in her eyes and seemed to make her glow. She looked beautiful in the dim light. It took his breath away. He followed her out and closed the door behind him, not taking his eyes off her.

“It’s amazing,” she breathed.

“I know.” A smile tugged at his lips and his heart pounded in his chest.

Marinette walked towards the railing and watched the city below.

A sudden crash and sparkle of light caught their attention. The fireworks. They sparked and shined in the air, flickering out as quickly as they came.

“Wow,” she laughed and looked up to the sky.

After a moment she turned and beckoned him closer. Adrien walked over and leaned over the railing. “Enjoying yourself?” He smiled. She nodded, her cheeks were turning pink. Probably from the cold. She was pulling her jacket tighter around her.

Another whiz through the air and a crash.

He took his coat off and draped it over her shoulders. Marinette jumped a little from his touch. She turned to him and then stared at the jacket. It was unsurprisingly too big for her. Cute.

“Aren’t you cold?” She asked. Her breath was warm on his face.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.” He leaned his head on his hand and watched her. She scowled, pushing out her bottom lip. Marinette shrugged off one of the shoulders of the jacket and reached up to wrap it around both of them.

“There,” she smiled softly. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.” Marinette turned to watch the fireworks again. Good thing, too. She didn’t see how red his face was.

They watched the fireworks in silence for a bit. Marinette giggled every once in a while when the fireworks crash was so thunderous it’s vibrations could be felt in the railing. Their shoulders rested against each other, he wondered if she could hear his heartbeat.

After a breath she pulled up her watch and gasped.

“What?” He turned to her.

“It’s almost six minutes until New Year!” She bit her lip and smiled. Cute.

He idly kicked his leg back and felt something hit his foot. It skidded backwards, drawing her attention. “What’s that?” Marinette picked the something up off the ground and dusted the snow off. She gasped. “They’re sparklers!” She waved the somewhat wet box in his face.

“Wha- how did you manage that?” He laughed.

“Guess I’m just lucky,” she giggled lightly and opened the box. She pulled out two and handed him one. Their fingers touched for the briefest of moments.

“I didn’t ask you earlier,” she looked up at him. “What’s your New Year’s resolution?” He blinked at her.

“Uhh, well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it.” He played with the end sparkler, twisting it in his hands.

“We- well it doesn’t have to be a resolution. Cause, maybe there isn’t really anything you want to do better next year. You could just make a wish.” She flipped the sparkler in her hand.

He laughed. “Well, I guess if I think about the past year,” he turned back to the city and watched the fireworks. “I’d want to try and be happier. And live a little more. Like, to do things that are out of the ordinary, or try something new.” He looked down at his hands. “I feel like I’m slowly getting more and more tired of my life. So, maybe I should change it. I guess. I don’t know,” he laughed dryly. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Don’t apologize.” Her voice was quiet and soft. “Here,” she dug through her bag and pulled out a small box.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“It’s a flint kit,” she chuckled, “a little weird, I know.” She took out the metal pieces.

“I don’t think it’s weird.” It wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever seen. And even at that it was funny, and cute. Very cute.

Marinette looked up at him and blinked. Then she burst into soft laughter. “Thanks,” she took his hand that held the sparkler and tilted it to the side. Her fingers were freezing, not that his were any better probably. She clicked the metal together and lit the sparkler. He gasped and held it up straight, the sudden light and sound of it startling him. She laughed and put the flint kit away, then took her sparkler and lit it on his. “Are you gonna make a wish?” She asked.

“Uuh, well,” he held the sparkler up and watched it. “I…” He closed his eyes, it felt silly. “I wish that, I wish that next year I will be happier. That I’ll do the things that I want to do, and that I’ll grow as a person. And that next year will be a year that I can look back on with fond memories.“ He opened his eyes slowly to find her staring up at him. "Sorry, was that a bit much?” He laughed.

She shook her head and smiled.

“Well, what are you going to wish for?” He nudged her shoulder.

Marinette tilted her head. “I’ll wish for the same thing. For me to be happier, and for you as well,” she elbowed Adrien and winked. “And for next year to be a year of good memories.” He gaped at her. Marinette held up her sparkler, giggled and poked him. “Besides, if we both wish for the same thing,” she touched the end of her sparkler to his, making the flame brighter, “it’s twice as likely to come true, right?” He was speechless, and it was not very often that Adrien could be left speechless. He usually always had something or other to say, but here, at this moment, on this balcony nearly freezing his butt off, he was silent. He blinked at her.

A quiet countdown crept through the glass door behind them. Marinette and gasped and bounced on her feet. A smile danced across her face as she looked back eagerly from him to the door. She started counting down with the crowd. “Seven, six, five,” he joined her.

“Four, three, two…” Marinette took in a deep breath and on the final count as the fireworks crashed and sparkled through the air, she blew the sparkler out with him; like a birthday candle. Hopefully, sending their wish off to wherever wishes go.

They both flinched at the loud and Earth rumbling fireworks, laughing the whole time until they died out. Cries and cheering could be heard from inside, as well as the bustling of the street below, but he barely paid any attention.

“Happy New Year, Adrien!” She laughed and hugged him. He tensed up for a moment before melting into the hug.

“Happy New Year, Marinette.” He whispered into her hair and held her tight. If there’s one thing that Adrien knew for certain it was that he was absolutely done for.

#ml #mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #my fic #my writing #adrien agreste #marrinette dupain cheng #adrinette #a stranger's new year's resolution #ml fic #mlb fic #ml fanfic #mlb fanfic #fanfiction

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tonicandjins · 6 years

Text

theater rehearsal

pairing: lee chan/reader (high school au)

genre: fluff

words: 1950

(a request by @flawless-sins! i got super excited for my first request and just wrote what i got on top of my head. i hope you like this one!)

Seungkwan didn’t know exactly why Lee Chan wanted so badly to tag along with him for his theater rehearsal.

The younger boy had never shown affinity to theater until today. He claimed that he wanted to see what Seungkwan could do with his amazing singing and acting skills and wanted to support him as a friend. Seungkwan calls it bullshit, because the boy had never taken interest in his voice and always wanted him to shut up whenever he’s warming up before a performance. That is, until today.

“Channie, if you need something from me, you can tell me,” Seungkwan told the boy as they walked towards the rehearsal room. “You don’t have to follow me around, because you are seriously so weird today. You don’t like theater. Just tell me what you need.”

“I’m serious, hyung,” the younger one replied. “I really want to see what happens in theater rehearsals. Because you know, we only see the finished product. I want to see the process.”

“You’re being weird again!” Seungkwan hollered, stopping his tracks and holding Chan’s arm before they could even enter the room. “You don’t even watch my musical plays! You slept through the entire play last spring!”

“Ah, hyung,” Chan whined. “Just let me watch, okay? I won’t be a burden.”

Although Seungkwan was still a little suspicious, he let out a sigh and opened the door, letting himself and the younger boy in.

“Good morning, everyone,” Seungkwan politely greeted. “My friend, Chan, is here with me today. I hope it’s all right. Let’s work hard today!”

The members of the theater club, who were scattered around the room preparing for the rehearsals, responded with a series of hums and good mornings. Chan bowed and greeted them as well. Seungkwan watched him closely; there must be something that Chan wants here because he was really the last person who would be interested in plays.

“Lee Chan?” a voice called out. “Chan! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Seungkwan followed the voice and realized it was from you, a junior and a recently added member of the club. He looked at Chan over his shoulders, and the kid was already frozen on his spot with a way-too-enthusiastic smile plastered on his face. Seungkwan has got it all figured out.

Jesus Christ, okay! Chan’s admitting that he may have a teeny, tiny, little, so-small-that-it’s-barely-there crush on you. Seungkwan has got to stop sending him playful smiles and winks whenever he interacted with you because he was blowing the younger one’s cover.

Chan liked you a little, but he has a lot of reasons why. You’re a junior student, just like him, and you had just transferred from your hometown’s high school. He knew a little about you, but the little information he had was more than enough for him to like you. You and him shared the same classes including Chemistry, the one where Lee Chan excels at the most. Everyone in the class knew Chan was the best student in Chemistry. He was the master of balancing oxidation-reduction reactions, the lesson that made your head hurt. You were assigned to sit in front of him, so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out a few things about you.

You told the class on the first day that you transferred because your father got promoted and had to be relocated, which meant that he had to take his entire family from the suburban village to the capital city. All right, you’re pretty to begin with. Who wouldn’t want to look at your face? Setting aside the fact that Chan has been seeing the exact same group of people for the past three years, you were pleasant to look at—like a breath of fresh air. But Chan could only wish that the only thing he really liked about you were your physical appearance. You were more than that.

You were struggling a lot with Chemistry, but Chan knew you slay in English and Literature. The Literature professor was very much pleased when she learned that not only were you great in classic Korean literature but also in world literature. Chan has never seen someone so enthusiastic while they talked about the analysis of The Happy Prince and Other Stories by Oscar Wilde—voice so smooth, tone so wholehearted, eyes so bright. Your eyes light up differently during your English and Lit class; Chan knew that because he sat on the left corner in front and the professor liked to walk around when she discusses something, so he had a reason to look behind and steal a glimpse of you. Lee Chan loved Chemistry class the most, but this school year might be different.

He learned that you’re a member of the theater club during lunch, when he saw Seungkwan walk with you and the rest of the members inside the cafeteria. Seungkwan waved you goodbye before he sat on their table, the one he shared with Chan and Hansol. Chan wanted to ask Seungkwan about you, but that would cost him an entire year of teasing and never-ending obvious hints when you’re around. So he decided that he’d just observe you from afar (in the least creepy way) to get to know you better. He wasn’t really good with getting to know people. He knew how to blend in, but that’s about all he could do when it comes to socializing.

So coming to the club’s rehearsal was probably not the wisest thing he came up with.

“How’s your theater club experience so far?” Seungkwan teased when he sat beside Chan. They were given five minutes to rest before they continued. “Ah, Lee Chan, I should’ve known it was a girl that could make you come watch my rehearsals.”

“I didn’t come here for her!” the younger one hissed. “And shut up, hyung, she’s going to hear you.”

“You call me ‘hyung’ while telling me to shut up?” the other snickered. “You like our Y/N? Is she your first crush?”

“No, she’s not!” Chan denied. “I-I mean… no, I don’t like her like that. I told you, hyung, I came to watch you.”

“Okay, then,” Seungkwan said. “Recite the first line of the last song I just sang.”

“Hyung!” the other whined.

Seungkwan just laughed and turned his head to look at you. You were standing in front of the director, asking if you could move your hands differently in a certain song.

“Y/N!” Seungkwan called once you were done talking with your director.

“Hyung, what are you doing?” Chan whispered.

“Calm down, Chan,” he replied. “I’m helping you out.”

The way you walked towards them, God, Chan’s heart is already beating so fast.

Sure, you weren’t his first crush, but you were definitely the first one who got him so hung up like this. He tagged along with Seungkwan to his rehearsals. He never showed interest in theater and arts, even when one of his best friends has such a great passion for it. Of course, he watched every show and chipped in when Hansol bought flowers for their immensely talented friend, but he’s not really that entertained with musicals and all. If it weren’t for Seungkwan being a part of the theater club, Chan wouldn’t watch a single show. He had never been distracted in Chemistry class. Science was his passion, as nerdy as that sounds, and it’s always been the only thing he could focus on without fail. But since you entered the class with your bright eyes and smooth hair, all he could think about was how he wanted to sit beside you and help you with the lessons. You were an eye candy—that’s for sure—but you were nice and profound and your voice sounded so good in his ears, he could listen to you for an eternity and not complain about it. You could probably read aloud his mother’s grocery list and he’d still be engrossed and would want more.

But now, he just saw you in a different light. This was your first official role, and Chan didn’t know you could sing and act like that. It was like you were made for the stage and the lights, even though you only performed in the rehearsal room where the stage was small and the lights were ugly. (He reminded himself to beg Seungkwan to take him to the stage and dress rehearsal the week after this one.) Your eyes were brighter (if that was even possible) and your voice sounded like honey (if voice could sound like something as sweet).

But, God, you were coming closer. His heart’s going to combust.

“Oppa,” you whined with a pout. (Lee Chan was found dead in a ditch.) “The director doesn’t want me to change the way my arms move. It feels awkward!”

Seungkwan let out a laugh. “He’s always been like that. It seems like he doesn’t listen to what we want, but he really just wants what’s best. The key here is to trust the director.”

“But it’s so awkward!” you continued. “Oh, hey, Chan. How are you?”

Seungkwan looked at Chan, trying to hold back the laughter that’s threatening to burst from his chest.

“A-ah,” Chan stuttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m g-good. It’s fun watching you… watching all of you rehearse.”

“Seungkwan told me you didn’t like theater that much,” you joked. “Do you like it now?”

“W-what? Hyung, why did you tell her that? No, no. I like theater. I’ve watched every show where hyung had a role in,” he quickly explained.

You laughed, and oh my God, please help Chan. He thought he might have just lost his ability to breathe.

“I’m just kidding, Chan,” you said. “So I’m hoping I’d see you on the 24th?”

“Huh?” Chan asked, a little confused.

“The play will be presented on the 24th, silly,” you answered.

Seungkwan let out a small laugh before silencing himself.

“Oh, right…” Chan replied. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

“Great! I’ll find you in the audience, then!” you exclaimed. “Seungkwan oppa, five minutes is almost over, do you think you could sing the bridge part for me? I haven’t mastered the high note.”

And with that, Chan watched as Seungkwan sent him another playful wink before leading you towards the other side of the room, but not without you waving goodbye to him and saying you’ll talk to him again later.

Chan took a deep breath and patted the left side of his chest, as if to ask it to calm down because it’s been beating so hard, like it wants him to rip his chest open for more space to thump onto. But how could his heart calm down when he could still hear your faint voice along with Seungkwan’s despite his heart beating so loudly.

Chan never not liked high school. It’s probably because he’s in between. He wasn’t as popular as Hansol, who was every girl in his school’s dream, nor was he an active student like Seungkwan. He was just your regular student excelling in nothing except his science class, but at the same time being average in the rest of his subjects. You could say his high school is one that’s normal; he still has curfews and he walks from school to his home with his best friends. Girls never ran after him and the teachers didn’t consider him as their favorite (except for his fellow nerds, aka the science teachers). He has always been in the middle and had no sort of excitement besides solving problems involving heat flow and temperature changes.

But now that you’re here, he might start liking high school more than he should.

He does.

#write-svt #sfwseventeen #lee chan #dino #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen au #seventeen scenario #seventeen scenarios #dino scenarios #dino fic #dino au #dino fluff

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s-o-n-de-r · 6 years

Text

Feminism & self-realization: Party Nails reflects on a roller coaster 2017 and touring with women

It’s January 2018. I’m prepping for a two-day Ableton workshop I taught in Los Angeles the next week.

I’m writing blog posts for SoundGirls.org. Last fall I toured with PVRIS and Lights, this winter I released a new single and video, and I’m working on a full-length record to release this spring. I’m adding new designs to my merch line and new songs to my set list. I just announced local shows and will be announcing a new tour soon. I’m working my dream job (jobs). However you want to say it.

A year ago, I wanted to quit.

I was sick with a cold all of January 2017. I was working double shifts three times a week at two different restaurants, working normal shifts the other days, incorporating new songs into my Ableton Live set, running rehearsals, adding finishing touches to my forthcoming EP, and setting up a record release party for the first week of February. I was also in a legal battle with a small publisher who had refused to support me and was now refusing to let me go. Every morning I’d wake up with a jolt, even with the cold and often having worked for 12 hours the night before. My legs were in constant pain from standing up at work, and I was losing weight from skipping meals due to double shifts and understaffed workplaces.

I knew it was essential to have some merch for my release party – through merch, I could raise a little extra money so I wouldn’t have to work so many doubles, and I could spread the word about my music. However, literally all of my money was going to my bills and my publicist. After considering asking a friend to borrow money, I decided to run a Kickstarter. I kept my goal low as I was deathly afraid of not meeting it, and not meeting it meant I wouldn’t have any merch at all. I raised $1200 in two weeks from a small pool of fans, friends and family. I had just enough time to get the shirts printed. On a whim I’d also decided to get eight pairs of unisex underwear with PARTY NAILS printed on the bum.

Even though it was exciting to have these items in my hands, I had no idea if anyone would actually like them, let alone buy them.

I called, texted and emailed everyone I knew who might come out. It was embarrassing at times. I’d been playing shows around LA for two years (and playing my own songs in New York for a decade before that) and wasn’t nearly as buzzy as some of the buzzy bands I’d recently shared bills with. How could someone keep trying at something that clearly wasn’t ever going to happen? “I suck. I must have always sucked,” I thought to myself.

The release party actually went really well. The venue, Bardot, did a great job of pairing me with other artists who drew their own crowds. People I reached out to showed up, including fans who had been around since day one (there were only a handful, but it meant the world to me to see them)! My friend Zoe Zoe stood in the front directly in front of me, cheering me on. T-shirts were sold. Photos were taken in the Party Nails-themed photo booth my friend built for the occasion. The underwear were a hit.

The next week my management said I needed to get started on a new record right away. My immediate reaction was, “Already!? But I just released a record!! Isn’t that enough?” (I mean, yes. But also no. Because making records is incredibly time consuming. Because good songs are hard to write. Because working on a waitress’s income with no additional financial support is extremely challenging.) Another blow was that no one wanted to sync my new music (put it in commercials, TV shows, etc.) because there were too many publishers with whom to clear. This made me angry because a big reason I’d been okay with co-writes to begin with was that it meant that more people would feel invested in the songs’ success. Ninety percent of the songs on Top 40 radio have more than one writer and producer—some have more than 10! But I wasn’t well-known, which meant that multiple writers was actually a disadvantage.

Even though I didn’t want to keep working like a dog carrying smoothies and spilling hot sauce down my front every damn day, I had no choice if I wanted to keep making music and growing my fanbase.

The next months were full of tears, anxiety attacks, songwriting in my bedroom in the middle of the night, writing out the pros and cons of quitting, therapy, creative breakthroughs, cancelling social engagements because I couldn’t deal with seeing people, and many, many calls with my close friends, who became my creative and emotional cheerleaders.

Lynn Gunn of the band PVRIS had come to my EP release show with a mutual friend of ours. I had met her once before on FaceTime, but I didn’t know her well at all. I admired her a lot and was honored that she had come. We had started discussing the possibility of Party Nails joining PVRIS on their next tour, which was a dream come true for me. I felt totally insane for even entertaining the idea that a tour like this would come through.

I decided I wanted to try a new setup for my shows. I was tired of feeling drained. I was tired of being a “singer” and having people ask my guitar player about how the songs got made. I didn’t want to make the mistake of trying to “prove” myself, but I felt like something wasn’t clicking.

I’d been wanting to redesign my live set so I could interact with it more, and after a friend lent me his Ableton Push, I had what I’d been wanting to use to do just that. Jordan, who I’d met when she was interning at the studio where I made my EP, had mentioned in passing that she would be down to play bass for Party Nails whenever I needed someone. So I decided to take her up on that offer, and we promptly started rehearsals. My previous live setup had been drums, bass, guitar (all played by males) and me singing. This new setup would be Jordan on bass and me singing, playing guitar, and interacting with the Ableton Push. We would incorporate live drums at a later point, but for now they were electronic and part of my rig.

We had so much fun playing our first show, which was at Tenants of the Trees during their monthly party, Mereki’s Clubhouse. I LOVED being on stage with another woman. I had played with girl friends before, but when I was much younger and not in a professional setting. So I’d never thought much about it. But it was impossible to ignore how different my energy felt. I no longer felt that I needed to worry about how the rest of my band felt while we were on stage, in rehearsal, setting up, etc. I felt like Jordan was in her own bubble and I was in mine, and sometimes these bubbles converged and sometimes they did not. I felt like whatever energy I brought to the stage, she amplified. It clicked. (Also, we listened to Katy Perry on the way to soundcheck, which I hadn’t done with my previous bandmates and meant a lot to me.)

When the tour with PVRIS was confirmed, she agreed to come along as my bass player. She was already friends with Lynn which meant that there was a guaranteed amount of good times to be had! I hired a drummer who I met at one of my restaurant jobs. We programmed his electronic drum pads to incorporate the sounds he’d need, played a few shows at home to sort out the kinks, and we were ready to go. (I definitely spent a lot of time worrying about my tour budget, but I’ll spare you the details because they are boring and I think you already get the picture: there wasn’t a tour budget.)

Three shows into our 10-show run, I got a message from a fan who told me about an interaction she’d had with my drummer: He had been inappropriate with her. Since this first notification, many others told me similar stories, during and after the tour. I detail how we went about sending him home immediately in this blog post for SoundGirls.org.

Every day on tour I watched Lynn work her ass off. PVRIS’ stage set up was huge and complex—it took up a whole semi-truck when it was all broken down! She was consistent in her banter, her singing and playing, her look, and the stories she told through video screens on stage. She and her bandmates respected each other. Taking in their live show, I was in awe of their band. A female-fronted and executive-produced act with kind and inclusive fans, on the road supporting their newest record. It all came from her and her desire to create. It was so exciting to me.

Lights exercised backstage, and took care of her daughter, Rocket, with the help of her mother who came out with them. She made the balance look easy. Every soundcheck she did, she sounded like her records. Her voice is a powerhouse at every moment. Her live band were so sweet – Brody lent me his guitar one night when mine was having issues.

The front of house engineer was a woman by the name of Karen, who was doing double duty as engineer and Lights’ tour manager. Lights’ and PVRIS’ merch people were both women. PVRIS’ tour manager was a woman by the name of Lisa, who’d managed Vans Warped Tour (among other things) for many years. We were surrounded by women in music. I didn’t have another big tour to compare it to, but one of the production managers (who was a man) said that it was very different to work with female bosses. It was less dramatic, kinder, and more organized, he said. It set the bar very high for myself, Jordan, and our photographer/tour manager Naz (also a woman).

Every night toward the end of our set, I would tell the audience I would be at the merch table and would love to meet them. And every night there was a line waiting for me when I got there – teens, grownups, parents and their kids, and older couples with their partners.

“You inspire me to be trust myself more.”

“You make me feel powerful.”

“Thank you for existing.”

I was so grateful for the support, and I felt an almost maternal instinct coming on. These were real people with real lives and feelings, and they now were going to watch me. What could I do to support them? It was very easy for me to commit, then and there, to provide love and kindness through my actions and interactions, and a sense of empowerment through songwriting and performance. I will never break this commitment.

We got back to LA just as the Harvey Weinstein stories were breaking. Every day there was another woman stepping forward and outing a man who’d abused his power and sexualized the women around him. I hoped that our drummer was learning by association.

In October, in my home studio, I set out to keep working on new music. I felt different than I had the prior October when I was struggling to finish my first EP. Then I had been tied up in a bad publishing contract, I was surrounded by men who were a generation older than me, and I was finding footing and compromising and being called bossy and crazy even by people who loved me. (Sexism is insidious.) This October was different. All of that messiness was behind me. I had toured with my stage design and my songs, and I had been rewarded with something I’d been wanting my whole life: an audience.

This past October and November, I also taught a Beats by Girlz class in West Lake, Los Angeles. I told my students, all teenage girls, about my experience on the road with female-fronted bands and a mostly female crew. I told them why Beats By Girlz was a music production class for girls and non-binary youth only.

“Music and audio, like many other fields, is still male-dominated. Beats by Girlz was formed to provide a safe and nurturing space for girls and non-binary youth to learn the skills they need to work in music and audio.”

This statement of mine was met with indifference in our first class. At first I was actually impressed with how much these girls didn’t care what boys thought. Tech is cool. I know what beats I like. I can do whatever I want. Show me what you know.

But. It’s not what women think and want that is the issue. The issue is what it is like for women to do these things when they are surrounded by only men.

Over the course of our class, I watched my students develop a sense of curiosity and confidence that was (unfortunately) not matched by the girls who were in the co-ed music production class.

That is why Beats By Girlz matters. That is why hiring women matters.

Think of all the stories and love that could be created by allowing more women to grow, fully and completely. Think of the work that could be done and art that could be made, if it from a place of comfort instead of anxiety. Think of all of people who don’t get to work with people that look like them, talk like them, engage with life like them. Think of what a drain it is to constantly be the “Other.” Think of the cruelty that is refusing to see that journey.

I see the journey, and like other tragedies of our society, it breaks my heart. But I am happy because this year provided me with the tools, materials, and audience to engage with that journey in the best ways I can: as a musician, as a teacher, and as a writer. I want to keep creating fun songs. I want to keep them fun and emotional, and real. I want to keep working toward a career of producing and writing, not just writing and singing. I want to encourage other non-male musicians around me to develop the skills they are interested in, even if those skills are currently male-oriented. I want to keep playing with women and hiring women. I want to keep working with men who don’t make things harder for the non-men around them. I want to be someone my fans can trust and look up to, and who gives back through teaching and writing. I want to talk about music, about sex, about being a responsible person. I want to take bigger and bigger risks as an artist, to tell stories that will heal, excite, relieve, and move people.

I don’t love how news becomes clickbait and how real stories need to be edited down to headlines that grab peoples’ attentions. I don’t like how money comes before responsibility and how a story doesn’t matter unless it sells. I don’t like how we don’t want to know the truth sometimes. But I’m grateful that the stories – the journeys – of women and non-binary people are now something we want more than ever. My broken heart is humbled to be alive and able to contribute to that in some way.

—

This special guest post was written by Party Nails’ Elana Carroll for sonder. We’d like to thank Elana for taking the time to write about such relevant and personal topics. Photos were taken by sonder editor Andrew Friedgen and sonder contributor Amanda Iglesias. Like this? Sonder is an independent music, travel and photography publication at sonderlife.com. Give us a follow here or at our Twitter, Instagram or Facebook if you like this!

Also check out:

Our 2017 feature on Party Nails

Our index of every band we’ve photographed

Photos from PVRIS’ fall headlining tour that Party Nails performed on

#party nails #pvris #lynn gunn #lights #feminism #bands #band blog #guest post #features

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saecris · 7 years

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REN’S SEMBLANCE: EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION / EMPATHY

general information on empathy.

listen, i jump on semblances pretty quickly. i cannot remember when i first came up for mana manipulation with ren when i took him up properly eons ago, but it was after volume two or something. so i understand that a lot of my theories are liable to be eventually proven wrong and i do end up altering them accordingly. dudebroski, it does not really affect me a ton when i’m wrong, i either keep or don’t keep the fact, like i did with the assumption that ren was his given name and just kept it, because it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me to change it now. anyway—

grimm rely on negative emotions (more specifically fear) to sense other living beings, it’s hard for me to determine whether they go for animals because the only interaction i’ve seen might have been ooblek launching zwei at them through a rocket propelled thermos (don’t quote me on that, it might have just been white fang). in volume four we see that the shroud ren places over himself and is capable of throwing over other people makes them invisible to grimm (and confirming nora’s v3 allusions of his ninjaness/ which were further developed through his fucking naruto shoes). the effects washing over himself and others comes with it a notably more calm visage and the ability to function better under pressure. my automatic assumption when seeing this had to be some kind of empathic thing. it only came to me so fast because i’ve,, made an oc with the same ability when i was far younger but this made a lot of sense to me and i found it appealing?

i mean these posts are permanent things, a lot about ren is subject to change as i mish mash him with canon facts.

ren negates negative emotions.

in addition to this ren can also sense people through heavy emotions (tyrian’s bloodlust). he can also negate positive emotions, and push negative and positive emotions onto other people. also, in a non-combatative state, he absorbs and reflects the emotions surrounding him (ha, like a mirror, when will my reflection show who i am inside). i think about how lively and sassy ren was prior to the attack on kuroyuri and headcanon that his guarded and expressionless (volume 1 and 2 showing very little differentiation in his facial expressions/ i often joke that i can count how many times ren has smiled on one hand) expressions are due not only to trauma but the activation of his semblance. he is naturally good at keeping his composure, the ability to negate negative emotions also works passively, and has bled into his reactions and personality making him more calm and collected over time. it has also had a negative effect, making expressions of love and happiness very hard. because he can read emotions, even when he is not actively using his semblance he has a very accute bullshit detector, which made it very hard for him to trust jaune prior to volume two.

ren is afraid that he doesn’t have enough of a personality to avoid a kind of psychopathic nature, as he has at one point shown a lot of these traits, common even in small degrees. changing yourself to appease others is something he hates in himself.

it is a part of his personality to want to reflect and alter part of his image to either appease or better suit the situation at hand, or the person he’s communicating with. it stems from a subconscious need for harmony, or at the very least balance, which ties in with the thematics of ying and yang applied to his characterisation. ren was raised in such a way that he had to reflect an image to better suit the differing opinions and personalities surrounding him, making him flaky, and without a solid sense of self. he has been working on this prior to beacon, having nothing to hold him back anymore his notable lack of response is cautionary, he takes too long to figure out how to react to a situation and by the time he does it’s too late to do so. it frustrates him greatly, especially considering his father’s advice was to ‘act’. over time ren does develop the habit of replacing words with actions, built it into himself that he shouldn’t waste breath when not needed.

but ren struggles to tell how much of him is his semblance, and how much of his personality is actually his own. he has a lot of trouble locating a sense of self, and having a semblance like this one, which basically reads, reflects, and deflects the personalities and emotions (through absorption and active deflection of feeling) of those he surrounds himself with, making it difficult for ren to find and define himself. it gets easier the longer he stays in beacon and finds himself surrounded with people that will accept him regardless of his nature, which explains the gradual increase of expression over the course of the seasons (he’s even regaining his sass and sense of humour to the point of making jokes (A FUCKING PUN IN GRIMM ECLIPSE/ ROASTING JAUNE ABOUT HIS HOODIE IN V4). his lack of a personality during the beginning of beacon was as much a journey for him as it was for me trying to establish him.

my first post about the empathy semblance, as speculated immediately after kuroyuri was released.

skype convo speaking about the moral ambiguity concerning the dangers of ren’s emotional manipulation semblance.

because of this semblance, ren’s emotional intelligence has been skewed and altered. there are five parts to emotional intelligence:

SELF AWARENESS. “recognising internal feelings.” i’ve said this before but ren hates introspection so much. he actively avoids self reflection for fear or spiralling into doubt, anxiety, and depression.

MANAGING EMOTIONS. “finding ways to handle emotions that are appropriate for the situation.” ren used to reflect what people thought would be best of him, this has lead to (prior to beacon) the response to shut down his emotions instead of sorting through them like ordinary people would. it’s incredibly unhealthy. he doesn’t talk about his problems. ruby and jaune still aren’t aware why destroying the nuckelavee was so important to him because he just doesn’t talk.

MOTIVATION. “using self-control to channel emotions towards a goal.” this he does relatively well actually.

EMPATHY. “understanding the emotional perspective of other people.” ren finds it easier to focus on other people instead of his own relationships, which makes it hard to be an introvert and need occasional alone time, when alone time also makes him unhappy if indulged in for too long.

HANDLING RELATIONSHIPS. “using personal information and information about others to handle social relationships and to develop interpersonal skills.” he’s working on it.

a conversation i was having with joxxy that prompted me to write this post.

[10/04/2017 4:13:34 pm] NINΞ: he tries [10/04/2017 4:14:00 pm] NINΞ: at least i think he is [10/04/2017 4:14:31 pm] Joxxy: I mean it looks like he's trying [10/04/2017 4:15:25 pm] NINΞ: because by now he also has a good grasp on what is socially acceptable and accepted and what might be expected of a normal person [10/04/2017 4:15:37 pm] NINΞ: that empathy talk the other night really fucked me up too man

[10/04/2017 4:16:32 pm] NINΞ: i feel like some level of me doesn’t know my muse anymore [10/04/2017 4:16:58 pm] Joxxy: Hey maybe that's a good thing [10/04/2017 4:17:04 pm] Joxxy: It gives you more stuff to discover [10/04/2017 4:17:20 pm] Joxxy: Omg Ren purposely turning off his emotions and doing something totally dark [10/04/2017 4:17:27 pm] Joxxy: While his friends look on in shock [10/04/2017 4:17:43 pm] Joxxy: "You looked really freakin' terrifying just now. What happened???"

[11/04/2017 9:20:32 am] NINΞ: and i didn’t see that at first, but yeah, i am a fan of the idea of ren turning his emotions off and doing something dark [11/04/2017 9:21:34 am] Joxxy: I can see it getting to a point where Ren can't tell if his lack of emotions during a certain situation are under his control or if it's his semblance taking over [11/04/2017 9:23:29 am] NINΞ: yeah, and it can get out of control in the opposite way too, if he’s surrounded by a lot of people who are panicking, because he works as an emotional sponge as well, when he’s not actively using his semblance [11/04/2017 9:24:09 am] NINΞ: he can’t do it yet, but another layer to this semblance is that he can force more of an emotion onto someone else too [11/04/2017 9:26:09 am] Joxxy: Maybe he doesn't discover it at first because he thinks it's because of his dragon Faunus heritage smoke properties [11/04/2017 9:26:33 am] NINΞ: oh yeah [11/04/2017 9:26:49 am] NINΞ: i really need to cement the emotions for the smoke, they keep changing [11/04/2017 9:27:09 am] NINΞ: at the moment there’s four: happy, furious, nervous, aroused [11/04/2017 9:27:15 am] Joxxy: You could say it amplifies emotions where adrenaline or passion is involved [11/04/2017 9:27:26 am] NINΞ: ooooo nice [11/04/2017 9:28:39 am] Joxxy: Yeah scientifically speaking, adrenaline can correlate with emotions that have rapid heartbeats or a flushed face [11/04/2017 9:28:48 am] Joxxy: So anger could definitely be on there [11/04/2017 9:29:05 am] Joxxy: For happiness I guess it would be endorphins [11/04/2017 9:29:11 am] NINΞ: yeah, anger never leaves, because that was the primary reason i wanted the smoke

#shout out to joxxy for always being willing to listen to my fucked up theories #hc.#long post/#mental illness/

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todokori-kun · 7 years

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Yeah, I think I’m ok :D (I’m gonna reread the entire series now though because my parents decided to buy it for me. I might cry during the reread…)

Ah, well. Death does make the most sense for Hohenheim, and now that I think about it, he was probably tired of living (that’s depressing but hey)

I don’t really know how I feel about Ed’s alchemy but I was a tiny bit disappointed because it felt like it was a small-ish price to pay to get Alphonse’s body back? Maybe it’s just me?

I’m always happy to get recs :D

WAIT. I actually know that book!!! I saw it when I was searching for a new fantasy series to read…most of the reviews were really negative and now I see why XD

Hisoka’s trash, but so is his best (only) friend (who could totally cut off his head with little to no regrets), Illumi. Illumi is the oldest son of the Zoldyck family. Let me tell you about the Zoldycks:

-asassins

-terrifying assassins

-baby assassins

-did I mention that they’re assassins?

-birthdays in the Zoldyck family=cake, presents, hugs

-the cake is probably poisoned to build up tolerance

-the presents are bombs

-mom’s probably hiding a knife in her skirt to stab you as she hugs you

-now figure out how to get out of this party alive

-good job, if you’re still fine by the end of the day momma is proud of you

-now go out into the world and murder people like a good child

-(Apparently they sometimes don’t bother to teach kids about manners and basic human interaction though, because Illumi has all the charm and social skills of a wet rag)

-(a wet rag with dead fish eyes)

-(a wet rag with dead fish eyes who literally digs holes in the ground and sleeps in them)

-(he’s also so obsessed with his adorable little brother Killua that he basically shoves a magic needle into Killua’s head and uses mind-control on him in order to make sure he never does anything dangerous)

-(even if that means controlling Killua so he’ll abandon his best friend to save himself)

tysm ;-;

sometimes I hate TG so much

Kimblee x Explosions vs. Alex x Shot glasses: which one is the bigger OTP?

Kimblee’s idea of sweet: “I only blew up twelve people and two buildings today. Are you proud of me?”

(and imagine when this couple gets into fights

Kimblee: “Really, Evans, I don’t understand why you can’t appreciate my art. I always support yours.”

Evans: “MY art doesn’t involve explosions! This ISN’T FUNNY, ok?!”

Kimblee: “No need to shout. And of course it’s not funny, it’s beautiful.”

Evans: “You know what, couple therapy. That’s what we need. Along with a lot of relationship counseling.”)

omg we’d literally be team rocket thank you for that mental image

That’s SO CUTE <333 I’d probably call you queen on purpose sorry not sorry

Evans might actually join you at some point. Poor Moblit would be left all on his own with three maniacs XD (I know right)

Hopefully Armin will live ;-; cinnamon roll child

I’m actually considered really tall for my age and I was actually mistaken for a college student once XD but yeah, I’m smol compared to you…

(that’s cool ^^ and wow, Levi.)

Glad I could make you laugh :D (I laughed way too hard while writing it too). But Kimblee would probably just blow up the court tbh

TYSM I’M SO HAPPY IT DOESN’T COMPLETELY SUCK ;-; and yeah, when I saw that quote I immediately thought of Uta…

I totally need help so yes, please, if it’s ok? TYSM <3

(and you’ve probably seen by now but I sent in two other aesthetics :D)

I adore all of FMA’S OPs and EDs. I agree with you, though, ‘Again’ is beautiful- I love the singer’s voice :)

I HAVEN’T SEEN IT YET BUT I’M TOTALLY GOING TO SEE IT NOW

Aww, it’s gonna be fine! You’ll get over it ^^ Eventually… And that’s so nice of your parents! I wonder if you’ll actually cry :))

Honestly, I can’t blame him… His life wasn’t all that nice, but he was at least reunited with his wife? So he’s probably happier this was ^^;;;

Well, considering how valuable alchemy is to Ed, and how much he actually relied on it, it might not be such a small price after all. But, then again, a whole body in exchange for a skill that could potentially be brought back, that might be a bit unfair, true… I’m just glad my cinnamon roll finally has his body back T^T

FATE/ZEROooooo. Zankyou no Terror. Re:Zero. All of these have plenty of suffering mixed in. Also, don’t let Re:Zero fool you with its light colors and character design. That is one of the most mentally draining anime I’ve watched recently, because it’s literally a never ending loop of suffering.

This is Re:Zero.

This is also Re:Zero. Pay attention to the head.

Oh god if I was a person who left reviews on books, I’d leave a whole wall of text for the review. There’s a difference between making a character seem perfect, but making that a facade and using it for character growth and actually making the chacter flawless. Wow, that book irritates me XD

I mean… we all have our own quirks? But wow that’s messed up, big time. Shoving a magical needle into your younger bro to ‘protect’ him? Boy, that’s like one of those ‘I’m pushing you away to protect you’ *proceeds to angst* plots. Is Killua by any chance one of the two kid main boys? Cause the name sounds familiar ^^

Tokyo Ghoul is the manga that you have the love-hate relationship with. It’s more hate, but whatever.

Well, Alex x shot glasses at least isn’t destructive? So I’ll pick that one over Kimblee x explosions any day XD

Right, so sweet. Instead of 40 buildings, he only blew up 12. You should buy him chocolate as a reward XD Hopefully he doesn’t blow that up as well...

If you ever get Kimblee into art, make sure to give a separate room for that, otherwise, it might become a hazard. I mean, I can imagine him filling up water balloons with paint, hanging them on a canvas and then blowing them up.

Who’d be the smol pokemon tho? ((I don’t know the names XD))

I’d probably become an actual tomato.

I feel sorry for Mobilt XD He wouldn’t have just Hanji to deal with anymore, he’d have to deal with us as well... Poor Moblit.

He will! The fandom would probably riot if anything happened to Armin, especially after we already had the scare.

Kimblee would blow up Shuu. No evidence left behind (other than the huge crater that was probably left after the explosions)

You’ll definitely grow some more soon ^^

Uta is the one who brings popcorn to the fights, because they entertain him.

I’ll be honest, when I saw Tatsuo’s aesthetic, my first thought was Jumin Han. Then I remembered you never played Mystic Messenger XD

Right, so the thing you have to watch the most when making aesthetics is color. Always have a color palette in mind, because it’ll make finding the right pictures easier. Pick a color and stick to it. That way, it’ll be a tiny bit better, since it’ll also please the eye more. Also dark/light shouldn’t mix too much. It’s better if you pick one of those and mix with another color. Heck, if you get stuck, you can at least search *(color) aesthetic* and find a pic that fits through that XD

SO WHAT DID YOU THINK?? I WAS ALMOST SCREAMING THE ENTIRE TIME, I’M SO EXCITEEEED

I’m sorry I didn’t answer yesterday, we had guests over and were preparing more or less the whole day. Among those guests was my 9 year old cousin, otherwise known as the most annoying kid on the planet. I wanted to punch a wall... First of all, I had to entertain him the whole time, and that’s not an easy feat for someone like him. I swear, the boy has worms in his ass or something, cause he can’t sit still for more than 10 seconds. Then, at one point, I took the laptop and started writing something, because inspiration struck (and internet died again). It was in english and he can barely speak the language, yet he was still trying to read what I wrote out loud and always asked me to translate what I was writing. At one point, I wrote the word ‘Shit’ and he went to my parents and told them ‘Luna is writing bad stuff’. I had to explain that the character swears a lot and that I actually keep it very kid-friendly with how it should be. Then, I received a message from my friend, but the two of us talk in english, so he started reading my texts out loud (a huge no-no for me, because I want my privacy when talking to people) and was basically being a brat the whole evening. Also, he chews with his mouth open. I almost ripped out my hair... True, I also get childish when he’s over, because he brings out that part of me. I mean, he’s the kid who tells me to let him win if we’re playing a game, even if the game is based on pure luck and I couldn’t let him win even if I wanted to. I sincerely hope your little sis is nicer than him XD

#evans #submission

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