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discotitsposts · 1 month

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but daddy, i hate you

when spencer recieves a birthday card from his estranged father you help him deal with his feelings

gets a little steamy at the end so 18+ recommended

this is how i deal w my own feelings lol

a little background: set in season 13-14. right before spencer’s birthday. you’re spencer’s wife, you’ve been together around 7 years. You work at the bookstore that you and spencer own. (he helps you run it and is co owner, you run it together) also, Spencer and you live in the apartment above the store.

It’s a beautiful Saturday morning and you’ve been going through boxes of new books for your store before you open for the day. It’s Spencer’s day off and he’s at the counter adding up the figures and making sure everything is in order for your busiest day of the week.

You hear a knock at the front door. “I’ll get it!” You yell to Spencer. You unlock the door and the mailman hands you your mail. “Thanks Jim, how’s Martha?” You ask him.

“She’s great, she’s dropping by later with cookies!”

“Cool! See you tomorrow!” You wave bye and start going through the mail.

“Hey, hon, there’s something for you from…” You stop when you read the name. William Reid. Spencer hadn’t seen nor heard from his father in almost 10 years. He was still very much angry about anything to do with his father. As were you. You couldn’t believe he hadn’t reached out at all.

“From who?” He asks, not looking up from the financial log. He puts his pencil down and reaches his hand out for you to hand him the envelope. You hesitate but hand it to him anyway.

You watch his face drop when he reads the name and address. Oh, how you wished to take the envelope out of his hands and hold him and tell him to forget that silly piece of paper forever. He peels the envelope open, careful not to touch the seal. He feels the dread fill his heart when he sees the contents. A card that says ‘Happy Birthday’ on the front, and ‘to a very special boy’ on the inside.

“What does he think I am? A fucking child?” He shouts, making you jump. “Sorry.” He apologizes and sighs.

“It’s alright, I’ll leave you alone with that.” You start to back away.

“No, don’t. Stay, please.” He begs with his beautiful eyes.

You nod and move closer. He begins reading the handwritten message on the inside of the card.

“Dear Spencer, Hope you’re not too upset with me, I am proud of you. We haven’t talked in a while, you haven’t called. You have the number. Don’t hesitate to reach out. How is Diana? Miss you. Happiest of Birthdays. Love, your father.” He reads it off, mocking every word.

“What the fuck! He hasn’t sent a card in 9 fucking years! Why now?” He raises his voice.

“I don’t..”

He cuts you off, “I’ll tell you why, because he’s either finally feeling bad about everything or he wants something. Well I won’t call him. I fucking hate him.”

“It’s a dick move to blame you for not reaching out, but honestly? Maybe you should, find out what he wants. If he honestly just wants to talk, it might be the closure you need. If he just wants something from you, you can tell him to fuck off. Obviously you don’t have to but maybe you should consider it. I know he was an asshole to you the last time, but you know I regretted not telling my father everything I wanted to say.” You’re watching your words, his father was a touchy subject.

He thinks for a minute and then sits back down and covers his face with his hands. “Maybe you’re right. You alright to open by yourself today? I think I’ll give him a call.”

“Yeah, go ahead. Good luck.”

He walks over to you and gives you a kiss and runs upstairs. He looked like a little kid who had just been given their favorite candy.

Later, when you’re closing the store for lunch break, you hear a loud crash from upstairs. You run upstairs, afraid Spencer had fallen and hurt himself. Worse. He was on the floor crying his eyes out. He had knocked the bookshelf over and he was surrounded by collapsed books.

You carefully step over the books to get to him.

“What happened?” You ask softly, so as to not startle him. He keeps crying into his hands but removes one to take your hand into his.

“I called, told him I received the card and I was willing to talk with him. I- I tried to…” His voice starts to trail off because he’s crying so hard he can’t speak. You rub his back reassuringly. “It’s ok, take your time.”

“I wanted to tell him, I’m married, and my life is going great. I didn’t even get to say anything. He stopped me and asked what card I was talking about. Turns out his new wife felt he should speak with his son, wrote the card and sent it to me. I should have known it wasn’t his handwriting.” He’s so tired from crying he just lays his head in your lap and stares.

“I’m so sorry love.” You say while running your fingers through his hair. Anger coursing through your veins.

“He hung up on me too.” His voice breaks as he says this. It has you fuming mad even more so. How could he do that? You could practically hear Spencer’s heart snapping in two.

He’s crushing your legs, so you convince him to stand up and have him go lay in bed with you. You cover him with the blankets and just hold him until he falls asleep.

You wake up a few hours later and he’s still asleep. You slyly grab his phone and write down William’s number. You take the paper, and your jacket downstairs.

You go to the store phone and as you’re dialing the number your stomach turns. Was this a good idea? After all I’m doing this for Spencer. You think as the line rings.

“Hello? Who is this?” A woman’s voice answers.

“Hello, is William Reid there?” Your voice quivers. You hear shuffling and the woman calls “Will! Phone!” in the background.

More shuffling. Then a man’s voice. “Who is this?” He says sternly.

“Hello, you don’t know me but I-“

“Then why are you calling me?”

“I’m your son’s wife, and I think we need to have a talk.”

“Spencer’s married?” He asks almost longingly. He sounded interested. Good.

“What kind of father are you? You don’t let him know you even want to be in his life and now all of a sudden you do? When he does finally reach out you hang up on him?”

“Ok that was because I went to go talk to my wife about why she sent my son a card from me.”

This goes on for a while, you yelling at Mr. Reid for his rude behavior.

The next morning you wake up to Spencer speaking to someone on the phone. Still groggy, you’re confused and mouth, ‘who is it?’

He holds up a finger to say hold on. He’s smiling. Maybe Prentiss is letting him take the next few days off!

“Alright bye! Love you!” He says into the phone, almost giddy. He hangs up and you tilt your head confused. He has the biggest grin on his adorable face.

“It was my dad. He was calling when I woke up. I can’t believe he reached out and he apologized! Can you believe it? He’s never really apologized to me before! We had a long talk, it was nice. Really nice.” He sits on the bed smiling.

“Is that so? Talk about a change of heart.” You smile to yourself knowing what you had done.

“You know what else he said?”

“What else did he say?”

“He said the little talking-to you gave him worked.” Spencer chuckles knowingly.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“No, I’m not upset. I actually am glad you did it. He wants to come and visit us. He wants to meet you too.” He pulls you into a big hug. “I love you. Thank you.” He kisses your neck.

“You’re welcome. I love you too.” You pull back and hold his face in your hand.

“Since you did me a favor, I think I owe you one. Lay back.” He gently spreads your legs apart and repays the favor to you. All day long.

the end 💞

it hurt me so bad to write spencer crying

to anyone who read this hope you enjoy! please don’t hesitate to leave feedback if you like this!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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katiesbowlcut · 5 months

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VICTORIA NEUMAN X ASSISTANT!READER

format: blurb

warnings: nsfw content at the end

word count: 700+

not proofread! y/n used!

- the second you came in for your interview she pretty much decided she was hiring you LMAO

- now i’m not saying she only hired you because of her crush, because your resume genuinely caught her eye, but i’m also not saying it had nothing to do with it 🤷‍♀️

- she definitely asks you to do things she could easily do just as an excuse to see you

- “y/n! can you come here please?”

- “can you pick up this pen i dropped please? i’ve got suchhh a bad back” she’s so dramatic i love her

- you honestly think she’s just being a bitch and she’s messing with you

- that is until one day she comes to you in the morning, saying today she only has one task for you

- “will you eat lunch with me?” and she has the dorkiest smile of all time on her face

- lunch together becomes a regular thing, going from talking about your favourite tv shows to her telling you about her daughter zoe

- she’s so sad when you eventually tell her you thought she was just like every person you’ve ever worked for, just messing with you for the fun of it

- “no no never! i could never do that, especially not to you” OOOOOO it’s blush city for you both

- things are going great! you love your job. that is until something changes, and victoria randomly stops asking you to do things for her

- i mean you’re her assistant, shouldn’t you be getting her coffee? shouldn’t you be organising her files? shouldn’t you be having lunch with her and not hughie?

- to say this has you down is an understatement, you can’t seem to understand why she has randomly shut you out

- it’s not like she’s not speaking to you, she’s still asking you to do things but they’re all tasks that require you to be away from her. you haven’t even been in her office for nearly two weeks now

- after your hurt builds and builds, you can’t hold it in anymore. you storm into her office demanding to know why she’s avoiding you

- she plays it dumb at first but she knows what she’s been doing so she fesses up

- “fuck… i’m sorry, so sorry. it’s not you i promise, it’s me. i- i like you, okay? like a lot and i know it sounds stupid and i know it’s sooo inappropriate because you’re my assist-“ SILENCED BY A KISS WOOOO

- you’re discrete about it at first, sneaking around and making out in the bathroom stalls like you’re high schoolers

- her bringing you lunch everyday<3

- she so leaves post-it notes on her desk with cute lil messages whenever she has to leave for meetings because it’s where she tells you to just relax

- you don’t bother asking why you’re not allowed to meetings that involve voughts CEO, it’s probably just a confidentiality thing right?

- a bit random but whenever you’re standing talking to somebody i feel like she’d just squeeze your butt?

- canon she’s a butt squeezer

- you don’t fight much but oh boy is your schedule full when you do

- she gives you the stupidest tasks she can think of LMAO

- “can you walk someone’s dog please?” “someone’s dog?” “yeah, just go around asking who has a dog that needs walking” “are you being serious, vic?” “yes i most definitely am, it would help me soooo much you have no idea!”

- I LOVE HER SO MUCHHH

- dating your boss can be annoying at times, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world <3

NSFW TIMEEEE

- officesex!officesex!officesex!

- this honestly deserves its own blurb if i'm being honest

- i feel like she's already dominant in bed anyways but because she’s your boss it’s elevated TO THE MAX.

- “i have one really special task for you today, so listen closely”

- you can barely stay stood up with how weak your knees go (real)

- “i need you to be a good girl for me, how does that sound? you think you can do that for me?” in her husky voice im DECEASED

- one time she cleared her desk by pushing everything on the floor, she immediately regretted it when she realised she had broken almost everything

- “i always see people do it in movies and this doesn’t happen” she’s so upset while she’s picking up a broken picture of you both on the beach

- she’s so silly

- she definitely buys you lingerie to wear underneath your work clothes 🤭

- the amount of flirty texts she sends you during the day just to watch you blush uncontrollably is concerning (when is it my turn)

a/n: requests are always open, hope you enjoyed :)

#victoria neuman x reader #victoria neuman #the boys #the boys x reader #genv #how do i apply for this job NOW #mother isn’t good enough to describe her #i need her every where #i need her anywhere #i need her #I NEED HERRRR

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skzwife-02 · 9 months

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“I told you not to bother me. Didn’t I?”

~.Soft whispers in the dark.~

[Yang Jeongin x Fem!Reader]

summary: Jeongin’s been busy and doesn’t want to talk to you, he tries to ignore you but you’re just so goddamn persistent and annoying

genre: angst with comfort ♡ ۵

warning: swearing (watch your profanity), mentioned drunk jeongin, mentions of abusive ex, reader flinching, suggestive

note: sorry if there are triggers here, please tell me if there are more to add in the warnings. the praying session is just you screaming jesus basically, also hardly used Y/n here

Masterlist

The door to your apartment creaks open and you smile despite the sound of the old door. You turn around, abandoning the chicken you were frying on the pan to greet your boyfriend.

“You should get that fixed. It’s fucking annoying.” Jeongin scoffs, setting his bag down on the coffee table in the living room. He shrugs his shoes off, not bothering to put it where it belongs.

Your mood plummets, smile faltering. “Oh, alright I guess… I’ll have the food ready in a few minutes. Please prepare the plates.” You respond sadly, returning your attention to the chicken where you find that one is slightly burnt and for a moment you’re tempted to give that one to Jeongin.

You shake your head, what are you even thinking? He’s just tired.

Even though ten minutes have passed you don’t hear the clinking of plates being placed on the glass dining table.

“Baby? Are you preparing the-“ You get cut off by the tv turning on, then you hear the familiar voice of Sofia Vergara yelling at Stella.

You sigh, “Yeah babe, I’ll prepare it for you blah blah.”

~•~

A few days have passed since then and you still haven’t forgotten about it. That behavior becoming a daily for both of you.

You getting up early to make breakfast for both of you, leaving for work, coming home to the dishes you used for breakfast, a messy bed, and clothes scattered around the living room. You cleaning everything, making dinner and having to deal with your boyfriend who doesn’t want to talk to you, look at you, or be in the same room as you.

You feel him pulling away and it breaks your heart. He wasn’t always like this. No, he used to treat you to dinner, make fancy picnics, bring you to the beach. You used to have laugh filled conversations with your boyfriend, used to smile at his random flower deliveries to your work.

Now you can only reminisce. All those sweet moments lost in time like a speck of dust in the wind.

You frown, you’ll try to keep your relationship together and fix things tonight. You have to.

Tonight you make his favorite, even going as far as buying his favorite flowers in the flower shop near your complex to put in a vase so he can smell it while eating. You clean the whole apartment and spray his favorite cologne.

After you’re done you wait patiently, sitting on the couch while scrolling on your phone. You wait hours, which is weird as he usually gets home by 9. It’s way past 9, you’ve called at least 30 times and left a few text messages.

You’re worried, so worried you fall asleep on the couch with all the lights still on.

When you wake up it’s midnight, you see the door open silently and watch as he stumbles into the apartment with the help of two friends, who you know to be Felix and Seungmin.

“Sorry, Y/n noona.” Felix whispers, careful not to disturb your boyfriend. He sends an apologetic smile.

“Chan hyung was trying to get him home before 10 but he didn’t want to go, mumbling about how y-“ Seungmin explains before he gets cut off by Felix nudging him. Seungmin coughs, “Well goodnight noona, sorry for the sudden and late intrusion.”

As they say their goodbyes, after putting your boyfriend on his bed, Seungmin hands you Jeongin’s keys. “Thank you. Oh and take care while driving.” You bid farewell to the boys, shutting the door behind you.

“Well that’s great. I’ll have to reheat this in the morning, I love you too I.n.” You’re body goes on auto pilot as you put away food in containers and place it in the fridge.

You only come to when your hands hit the water, you’re washing the dishes and you don’t even know how you got there. You sigh, finishing up and going back to the couch. You won’t sleep in the same room as a drunk I.n, that’s just silly.

~•~

When morning finally comes you wake up to a shouting Jeongin, you find yourself sitting in the dining room and wonder what lead up to this moment.

“-my cologne was half full when I left yesterday, and when I come back it’s nearly empty?” He yells at you before turning around to leave for practice at the studio. “Are you having another man over who uses my things and just suddenly leaves?” His accusations hit you, slapping you wide awake despite him only murmuring the last part.

“What the actual fuck, Jeongin?” You mutter angrily, words fall on deaf ears though as he slams the door on his way out, the hinges starting to creak again.

The rest of the day you replay that argument, wondering if it’s really your fault. You did go overboard with spraying his cologne all over the apartment yesterday, but you would never cheat on him. That boy was is your first love.

You’re bothered the whole time at work, resulting in your manager, Na-yeon to dismiss you early. “Y/n, I hope you’re okay. I’m letting you go early, you need some rest.” She smiles at you and you return the gesture, although it’s not a very genuine one.

Back at your apartment you rest on your bed, the cushions feeling foreign since you’ve been sleeping on the couch since you and your boyfriend started fighting. When you plop your head down on the pillow you smell alcohol, you cringe, immediately putting new bed sheets and throwing the old ones in the washer.

The rest of the afternoon is spent waiting for your boyfriend to come home, you decide to just say sorry, maybe give him a little kiss, you haven’t touched him in what feels like years.

When the door creaks open you shoot up from the bed, exiting your shared room and immediately hugging him, “Baby, I’m sorry for using your cologne.” Your words are muffled, head on his chest.

“Don’t bother me,” he just shrugs you off and goes straight for his office.

You frown, knocking on the door before entering.

“I told you not to bother me. Didn’t I?” He says, not even looking at you.

You ignore what he said, going to kiss his head when he swivels around on his chair, the action making you stumble to the floor. “Darling-“

“Get the fuck out, Y/n! I don’t want to talk to you so get the fuck out of my face. I’m so tired, so sick of you annoying me with your presence. Get out, for fucks sake.” He shouts at you, your eyes meet and you can’t help but look away flinching.

You look a lot like my ex.

You retreat to your shared room, sobbing quietly when you get there.

You wonder why his eyes don’t hold love anymore, they only resemble those of your ex, he had the same look Jeongin had. The only difference was if your ex had that look, he was going to beat the shit out of you.

~•~

It’s dark outside when you wake to your alarm, you wonder why you even have a 4AM alarm. You shut it off, not bothering to look at the name.

It’s morning yet again, you find yourself (hating mornings) on the floor of your bedroom, and the events from last night come crashing back into your mind, spilling from your eyes. You sniffle.

You come out of the room, trying to be as quiet as possible only to see the apartment empty, your boyfriend isn’t home. It’s a Sunday, where else could he be?

Before you can think about anything else the door opens again, you didn’t even notice the keys on the doorknob. He’s shocked to see you up already and he drops what he was holding to walk closer to you.

“I want to break up.” It slips from your mouth. You look away, not wanting to see the reaction on his face, afraid it’ll be one of relief and joy.

You hear him choke on his words, is he, crying…?

“Baby no, no, no. I’m sorry. I’m so- sorry it’s all my fault.” He stutters through sobs, you feel his arms wrap around your waist but you slap it away.

He falls to the ground. On his knees crying, he looks pretty. “I’m not repeating myself, Yang Jeongin.”

His eyes shift to your hands, he reaches for it but you avoid him. Your boyfriend ex shuffles closer to you, lifting his head to look at your face. He finds your cheeks red, eyes a bit puffy from crying, and your lips pursed.

“Please take me back. Please give me another chance I’ll be better.” He starts begging. “Not on our anniversary please.”

You’re stunned, anniversary? That’s not today… your eyes shift to the calendar to see a heart shape on the date. It is. So that’s why you had an alarm.

Your gaze fall on the things he was carrying earlier, but it’s no use as you can’t quite make it out in the dark.

“-sorry for all the the things I’ve said, I know I can’t take that back. But you aren’t annoying at all, you don’t bother me, I do love you. I’m sorry, sorry. Please, Y/n just, give me one last chance. Let me make things right.” You finally let him touch you and his eyes sparkle, you pull him up. Hugging him.

He hugs back quickly, afraid you’ll change your mind, his arms around your waist squeezing a bit hard but you find it comforting.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. For being such an asshole. I- I never want to leave your side.” He babbles, peppering your forehead with kisses. “Were you, were you really going to break up with me?” He reluctantly asks and you can hear his heartbeat. He’s nervous, afraid you’ll leave him.

You nod meekly and he inhales sharply. “I’m sorry. For pushing you away, I’ll make things right okay-“

You don’t let him finish. You just cup his cheeks and bring him down to kiss him. He squeaks, cheeks reddening, the blush going to his ears.

“I thought I was the problem, Innie.” You whisper before kissing him again.

“No you’re never the problem. I was the dick.” He whispers back, pushing you against the wall gently. He leans down, biting your lower lip then licking your jaw, sucking on your neck and slowly going down to your chest until you stop him.

“Maybe later, right now I just want my sweet baby back.” You murmur, shyly covering your face as you nuzzle into his chest.

He smiles, “so you take me back.” I.n says a bit teary eyed.

You nod again, “yes.”

He sighs in relief, letting you go and rushing to the things he left on the floor. “Just give me 10 minutes okay, I have something for you.” He excitedly arranges things on the dining room table, humming the song he was singing when you first met each other at a college library.

“Alright close your eyes, baby girl.” He goes behind you to cover you eyes and lead you to the table. “I love you so much, happy 2nd anniversary my love.” His voice is soft, he’s whispering it to you like you’re his whole world and it sends shivers down your spine.

When he lets you open your eyes you can’t help but smile, starting to cry again when he worriedly holds you, asking why’s and reassuring you.

“I love you so much, Yang Jeongin. Never push me away again.” You mumble.

“I promise. I love you more, L/n Y/n.” He replies, you hear the sincerity in his voice, it makes you giddy.

“No, Yang Y/n.” You whisper but he catches it, you two blush as if you haven’t been together for two years.

“Hm, I like that.”

“Yeah. You do? How about we take ‘later’ now.” You suggest, grinning into his neck before sucking and biting.

And for the first time in a long time, you ‘sleep’ in the bed with him. Leaving the things he’s prepared for after your ‘praying’ session.

Find all my works under #skzwife-02

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growup-thatbeautiful · 2 years

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hellooo, hi, im not sick anymore (more or less) and in surprisingly great spirits! i was thinking, if you wanted to write more Zeffirelli and absolutely and i mean ABSOLUTELY no pressure maybe we could have some sort of university themed kinda fic? not an AU just kind of widening the lens of The French dispatch to see Zeffirelli as a students not just his after school activities. im thinking like a philosophy student poet boyfriend x art and film theory painter reader kinda situation. studying and going to interesting lectures and to cinema in the evenings..idk it would be lovely to have some nice uni vibes to motivate me. also if you don't feel Zeffirelli now Timothee himself would be very much okay too i feel like. it is all up to you. sending you great energy, love you, message me if you want to brainstorm this story or want to talk literally about anything xx

omg hiiii!!! it’s fall now!! zeffirelli would be living his best life. i was really missing zeffirelli and timmy. timothee always renters my brain this time of year so be prepared. it’s movie szn brainrot time, my friends.

coincidentally enough, this happens to be my 700th follower celebration as well! yay!

uhhh so usually i write the translations at the bottom but i didn’t keep up this time i’m so sorry 😭😭

zeffirelli masterlist

ensoleillement (sunshine)

“You’re late,” you say, looking at the clock in the corner of your living room.

“I brought compensation.” Zeffirelli holds up a brown paper bag from the pastry shop down the street as an apology. “There's a pain au chocolat in there for you. I also got you a coffee.”

“I hope it’s not in the bag,” you respond drily, but take the bag nonetheless and rifle around for your breakfast. “Where’s the coffee?”

“Here,” he says absently, placing it on the kitchen counter.

“Dieu merci,” you sigh, taking a sip and shouldering your bag. The leather strap digs into your shoulder through the fabric of your coat.

“Thank me, not God,” Zeffirelli complains, ushering you out the door.

“You’re still the reason I’m late.” There’s a warning in your voice, but you can’t put any real venom behind your words. You never can, with him.

“Oui, but you’re not going to any important classes right now.”

“I’m going to math,” you protest. He reaches across you and takes your coffee, sipping it and grimacing. You slap his hand away and retake the coffee. “No matter how much you try, you aren’t going to like the way I have my coffee.”

“That’s because you have terrible taste,” he complains. “Why are still taking those bullshit classes? There are so many better classes to take.” It’s a conversation you’ve had many times, mostly out of jest, but there is some seriousness behind it.

“You mean math?”

Zeffirelli hums. “That’s the one. Why would you waste your time with math when you could be going to philosophy at noon?”

“Because I’m not some poet revolutionary, Zef,” you laugh, bumping your shoulder with his. “Not everyone is as successful as you.”

“Nonsense. You just haven’t shared any of your ideas with other people. Come on, amor, let me know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Right now there are a few things, but I don’t think you want to hear them,” you deadpan, gathering your books in your arms.

“Don’t get shy on me now, ensoleillement.” The endearment falls easily from his lips, his favorite term for you, meaning, quite literally, sunshine.

Ironically, you got the nickname on a rainy day when you had been giving him a hard time about his tendency to walk in the rain.

“I have nothing to say to you,” you reply, knocking your shoulder against his as you both try to go out the same door to the street below your apartment.

“All that math is filling your brain with nonsense,” he complains, his shoes scraping against the worn hardwoods. “I can’t have a good philosophical conversation with a mathematician.”

“Just because I’m taking the class doesn’t make me good at it,” you correct absentmindedly. He huffs and steps into pace beside you, his hand brushing against yours. The autumn leaves crunch under your feet, warm red and orange bleeding past as you make your way to class, the air crisp and the sun slinking behind the clouds. You really should be trying to make it to class on time, but you know you’ll regret it if you leave Zeffirelli out here alone with that rosy color on his cheeks from the cool air. Fall suits him well, and he wears the chill running through your fingers well.

It’s better to be here, your hands skimming against his, knuckles red and electric when he touches them than it is to be sitting in a class. Especially because he isn’t in the class.

The walk to your school isn’t much further. Just through the town sits a two-storied brick building where you’ve devoted hours to studying, crying, and trying to get Zeffirelli to take breaks unsuccessfully.

The cobblestones underneath your feet are consistently unsteady, and you find yourself, as usual, looking in awe at the quaint town that wakes up as you walk through.

There’s the flower shop on the corner with the green and white striped awning that gives out free roses on holidays. Next to it, stands a stationary store where you go more days than not to get a hand-pressed piece of paper to write home on. Across the street is a cafè where you and Zeffirelli have spent countless sleepless nights discussing movies and poetry when you should be studying,

This isn’t your hometown, and it isn’t his either, but you both know it more than you ever could know any other place on Earth. Zeffirelli’s American rouge, prophetic attitude couldn’t come from a town this small, but that doesn’t stop it from thriving. Here, nothing can stop him. Not living with his parents, which he does on purpose, or not knowing how to start a manifesto. Those things are trivial and unimportant because this place reveres every waking and sleeping moment it has with him. You and

You, well, you can’t claim this place as your home, but you’ve fallen in love with its poetically simple lifestyle. The two years you’ve been here as an exchange student has been the best you can remember, and you aren’t sure how much of that is related to the boy next to you.

A gut instinct tells you that he might have something to do with it, but you would be drawn into the charm of this town anyway, probably. He’s just an added bonus.

Zeffirelli takes the cup of coffee out of your hand and tosses it into the trashcan before you enter the towering, gray stone building that is your school.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” he asks, walking backward down the opposite hall that you’re traveling. “My mom packed cookies.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat and you can tell you’re grinning like a fool. You genuinely don’t know if he’s joking or not, but you don’t doubt the truth of his words. “I can’t even make fun of you because your mom’s cookies are so good.”

“That’s the sweet spot.” His arms are outstretched wildly as he turns back to go to his class. “I’ll see you later, amor. Don’t have too much fun in math without me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Zef.” There’s still a grin on your face when you walk into class, and you take your seat next to your’s and Zeffirelli’s friend, Mitch Mitch.

Mitch is radically passionate like Zeffirelli, but, as obvious by his presence in a math class, he’s less utterly devoted to the revolution. Which is to say that he’s still deeply invested.

“Did l'auteur make you late again?” Mitch reaches over you and slides today’s work to you. “I swear, you need to stop waiting for him in the mornings.”

“He did indeed.” You lean back in your chair and try to listen to the lecture, and you think you retain about half of the information.

The teacher at the front of the room drones on for half an hour about something you don’t understand, not that you care enough to pay attention. Despite the nature of his ideas, Zefrilli is correct about the fact that math isn’t your thing, nor is it going to help you at all. Especially not when you don’t have a clue what’s going on. Based on the look on Mitch’s face, he understands even less than you do, which is comforting and terrifying at the same time.

“Why did you convince me to take this class?” Mitch groans, flopping onto the desk and banging his head on the wood. “I’m too pretty for math.”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with it.” You pat him on the shoulder consolingly and gather your things together.

“Peut être pas, but it makes me feel better about myself.” You walk side-by-side to the next class. You have film studies with Zefirelli and Mitch has some economic class.

Zefirelli is waiting by the door for you, and, when he sees you, he pushes himself off the frame and asks, “How was the waste of time?”

“It was a waste of time,” Mitch confirms, bumping shoulders with Zefirelli, who looks at you for confirmation, which you readily give.

“Let’s do something worthwhile then, mon chéri.” Zefirelli holds out his arm for you, and you take it easily. “To the magical world of film we go.”

“Onwards we go.”

Lunch doesn’t come soon enough, but, slowly, it comes. Mitch, Zefirelli, and you usually eat together, but today Mitch is going to the cafe down the street with a girl in your class named Layla. She’s sweet, and you hope she’s enough for Mitch.

You and Zefirelli find your normal spot in the corner of a courtyard hidden away in the twisted cobblestone streets. It’s nothing special, just a park bench pretty much, but you wouldn’t eat anywhere else. Not when Zefirelli is sitting close to you.

“What are you writing about?” he asks, leaning over your shoulder to try and read the words in your journal.

“How much I hate math,” you deflect, shutting the small spiral and stuffing it into your backpack.

“That’s not what looks like when you write about something as trivial as math. I’ve seen your math face, and it is much more détestable.”

“You’re telling me that you don’t write enthusiastically about math?” you joke, hoping to deflect the attention.

“Only about my manifesto.”

“Yeah, well you have your manifesto, and I have my movie.” It slips out easily like things usually do around him. You’re so used to telling him everything, so it comes as no school that you’re unable to keep this from him.

The thing is, he isn’t supposed to know about the movie you’re writing. Not because he wouldn't support it, which you’re sure he would, but because there’s no doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t let you hear the end of it. You try to backtrack. “I mean, I have the movie that I’m studying for class-“

“-You’re writing a movie?” he interrupts, his hand frozen where it’s reaching for his food. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m not writing a movie,” you attempt. “It was a slip of the tongue. Fourchement de langue.”

“No it wasn’t,” he denies easily. “You’re writing a movie.” This time he doesn’t ask, but he does return to his previous action, splitting the pink-colored cookie in half. He offers one half to you and you take it. You decide not to respond and focus on the cookie instead.

“So, what is this secretive movie about? Hopefully something dashingly bohemian and revolutionary.” You know he’s tuning down his excitement for you, which is nice. At least he’s trying. Hopefully, he knows that you would never keep something like this from him if you weren’t embarrassed.

“Those are your interests, not mine,” you sigh, despite the deception behind your words. Truly, you do care about those things, maybe only because he cares so much about them.

“Yeah? Then why do you work with me on my manifesto so much?” he prods, a grin on his face. Everything about him screams “got you” and you have no choice but to accept his meaning.

“Maybe I like being around you, connasse.”

“That could not possibly be it,” he dismisses easily. His cookie gets placed on the floor beside him and he leans into you, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re much too talented to be hanging around me all the time.”

“You can’t be serious,” you chastise, your hand running through his hair. “Zef, you’re the most talented person I know. Not only are you some sort of chess wizard, but you also have such a passion for life that I don’t see anyone else. I’m lucky to be around you as much as I am, honestly.”

“You’re just saying that,” he sighs, but there’s a blush rising to his cheeks that fits him so beautifully.

“We’re poets, Zefirell, we only say things that we mean.” He leans heavier into your side and you relax against him, taking his weight happily. The rest of the world passes by, and time passes by, but you don’t care. This is where you want to be, by his side.

You would lift the sky for him, but right now all he needs is a shoulder to lean on. It’s something you’re ready and willing to give.

“You know,” Zefirelli starts, “there are stories about people like us. You know, people that want to change the world. Usually, they have someone by their side, a second-in-command. Napoleon had Josephine, Pierre Curry had Marrie, Sintra had Garder.”

“I think it be more reasonable to say that Marrie had Pierre, given that she was the one who did most of the research. And you’re forgetting that Sinatra and Gardner broke up after 12 years.”

“But she was the only woman he ever loved. Come on, amore, you know that. Anyway, what I was trying to say-” he looks up at you, smiling softly- “before I was so rudely interrupted, is that most people have someone beside them when they start their journey sur le chemin de la révolution. The road to revolution can be lonely.”

“Everything must start in love,” you agree. “Nothing comes out of nothing.”

“Précisément. Would- would you like to be my second-in-command? We have a long way ahead of us, and I think it would be easier if we stuck together.”

“How am I supposed to say no to that?” you breathe, laying your head on top of his and reaching for his hand. “Promise you won’t leave me for someone more antagonistic?”

“You’re enough of an antagonist for me,” he responds in an overly-sweet voice. “Not sure I could handle much more.”

“Good. I prefer you waking me up in the middle of the night rather than anyone else.” You also prefer his head on your shoulder, his hand in your hand, and his figure in your bed, but those are things you keep to yourself for now.

You’ve already got enough of a win for today.

A banging on your door is an unfortunately common event to wake you up. Without checking, you know who’s on the other side of the door. That messy black hair and those piercing eyes are waiting impatiently for you to make your way across your cramped apartment, you’re positive of it.

The floor is cold underneath your socked feet as you make your way over the piles of books, papers, and clothes strewn everywhere across your room. While the trek is short, to your sleep-addled brain it feels like it lasts forever, with you in a dreamlike state of confusion and agitation. You can hear the sound of rain pounding against your apartment roof, a steady rhythm in time with your slow breathing.

With a deep breath, you open your door and you’re met with the familiar, tall form of Zeffirelli. “I have an idea for the revolution,” he says, out of breath, soaked from the rain. “And I need your cinematic expertise.”

“So that’s why you’re at my apartment at three in the morning?” you ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Yes. And it’s only two,” he says as he brushes past you and goes straight to your tiny kitchen. Absentmindedly, he rifles through your counters and grabs the first food he finds; some untrustworthy brown biscuits. You don’t take any when he offers. “I needed to talk to you. Son affaire sérieuse.”

“Right, I’m sure it is. Tell me, what exactly do you need my help with? I’m not sure I can be of much help.” You shuffle into the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove, accepting the fact that you’re probably not going to get any sleep tonight.

“Absurdité. Who else is going to shut down my best ideas ruthlessly?”

“I would do that in daylight too,” you accuse. He fits beside you at your counter and reaches across you for the sugar bowl, taking a sugar cube and putting it in your cup. Two more are added to the cup that he’s claimed as his own from your array of delicately painted teacups.

“But you admit to having shut down good ideas?” A twinkle in his eyes tells you to give up now and accept your defeat.

“Sure.” It’s worth it to see the victory smile break across his face, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. “I am obviously the bane of your existence. Je suis ta couverture mouillée.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” His consolidation is quick and filled with a teasing lightness that you’ve long since accepted as his trademark. A lot of people would look past him for it, and call it arrogance, but you know it comes from a loving place.

“Don’t make me send you to Mitch Mitch’s apartment instead,” you warn, waving a spoon in his direction. “I would do it in a heartbeat.” It’s not true, you would much rather he be here with you, instead of at Mitch’s. Despite the entertainment that comes with Zefirelli and Mitch’s back and forth, you’re feeling selfish tonight.

“Empty threats.” he tisks. The kettle whistles from its spot on the stove and you both reach for it at the same time, your fingers brushing against his. It’s terrifyingly electric, but you push past the feeling. Zefirelli withdraws his hand hesitantly and you busy yourself with pouring the tea.

He’s come over in the middle of the night enough for you to know how he takes his tea by heart. Two heaping spoonfuls of sugar, no more, no less. He claims that you make it better than he does, which you choke up to him being unable to boil water without making a mess.

Clearing your throat, you ask, “So, what’s this big idea? Care to fill me in on why I’m awake at this time of the night.”

“What’s your movie about?” he fires back immediately, settling into your beaten blue couch.

“Did you come here to pester me about my future?” you ask, eyes narrowed. “Because I will kick you to the curb.”

“No, no,” he laughs, “you wouldn’t do that to me. You have no resistance to my pretty face.”

“Ah, yes, you’ve figured out my one weakness. It seems as though you’ll be taking advantage of it forever.”

“Of course, ensoleillement. What would I do if I didn’t have you to manipulate?” He sits across from you on the couch and grabs one of the blankets you have thrown around. It goes over his shoulders and he huddles into its warmth.

“So what did you come here to talk about?” you ask, taking a sip from your tea and placing it on the side table.

“Oh, right!” His eyes light up as he sits up straighter, splashing tea all over himself. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to care very much. “I thought that I would have my mother’s friend, some writer, is coming into town soon. I was thinking that I should ask her to help me. At the least, she can write about us, no? What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea. What does she write for?”

“The French Dispatch. You know, the one with all the stories they put out once a month or so. I hear that she’s looking for something out here in our petite ville.”

The conversation shifts and he talks about his big ideas and how he’s going to get them done. You could listen to him talk for hours, and, by the time he’s finished, you have, not that you have anything better to do. Not even dreams of him are this real. You could never make up in your mind the way his eyes sparkle and his hands flutter with excitement, or the way his hair falls in front of his face when he’s moving too fast.

Eventually, sleep takes him over, comically mid-sentence. He’s propped up against the side of the couch in a very uncomfortable looking way, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’ve known him to fall asleep in worse situations,

When his breathing stills and his eyes close, you allow yourself to look at him as he is without fluttering hands and excited eyes. He’s calm and motionless, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Everything about him is usually coiled for action, an easy tension running through his hands and his eyes, but now, now he’s undistributed and serene, laying with his hair splayed like a dark halo around his head.

Before you close your eyes, you tuck yourself close to him, fitting against his warmth like you’ve done so many times in the past, just like this, on deep-silence-ridden nights.

“You’re my movie,” you whisper into the dark, towards his sleeping figure. “You’re the one I write about.”

But of course, he doesn’t hear.

“Medre,” Zeffirelli swears, hopping around and trying to get his shoes on. “I have a test today.”

“You should have thought of that before you came over that early,” you admonish, watching him with amusement. “Why you didn’t think you would oversleep, I have no clue.”

“We’re in this class together, ensoleillement. You’re going to burn with me,” he warns, rushing a hand through his hair carelessly. It sticks up widely in every direction, but you know better than to try to fix it. Nothing can convince his hair to do anything except chaos.

“Yeah, but it’s so much more fun not to think about that.” Begrudgingly, you start to get ready as well. The floors creak under your feet as you shuffle to your bedroom, where a clean outfit is nowhere to be found.

For a moment, you let yourself think of the wild-haired, cigarette-smoking, arrogant person in the room next to you. His infuriating charm and charismatic persuasion captured you years ago, and you haven’t been able to get out of his orbit since then.

You may be his sunshine, but he’s your gravity, keeping you centered but tipping you over and surprising you at times.

“Dépêchez-vous,” Zeffirelli calls, rapping his knuckles against the wall. “Hurry up.” You know he doesn’t really care about making it to class on time, despite the panic, but you also know that he understands you well enough to know that you want to make it on time.

The film class you have this morning is one of your favorites, and you try and avoid missing it as much as you can. While your film studies class is more focused on the aspects of film, this class advises it’s students on the writing and cinematography that you need to make something truly special.

To make something worthy of a manifesto.

“Mon chéri, we have to go,” Zefirelli warns one last time before giving up and aimlessly wondering around your room.

“Don’t touch that,” you sigh, not having to look at Zeffirelli to know that he’s touching something he shouldn’t be touching. When you do look over, you see him flipping through your journal.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Zeffirelli defends, hiding something behind his back. You send a glare in his direction and lean back in the chair by your mirror. The wood creaks underneath you and you stretch out your back, satisfying pops cascading up your spine.

“You have some deep dark secrets written in here?” His tone is joking, and he waves the journal in the air, taunting you.

“Grocery lists and middle-of-the-night thoughts,” you dismiss. “If you want to know when I forgot to pay the electricity bill, look on the fifth page.” You hope with everything you have that he’s going to let it go, but you have no such luck. He’s nothing if not absurdly relentless.

“I know for a fact that you don’t write anything like that down, it’s not worth the time. You just forget things like the rest of us.”

“Peut être. Still, put it down.” He doesn’t. Instead, he keeps reading with a grin on his face that slowly falls as he makes his way through the rest of the book.

“Is this- is this written about me?” he asks, disbelief written on his face. “Is this your movie?”

“I asked you to stop reading,” you defend miserably, hiding your head in your hands. “I know it’s strange, and I know I shouldn’t be writing about you like that. You don’t want to be heroic or some great leader, above everyone else, but I cannot help it if that’s who you are. Please understand, I only wrote what I saw.”

“I’m your movie? I’m what you have been furiously scribbling away at, working on late at night?”

“You’re my everything,” you admit honestly, softly, “How could you not be the plot of my movie too?” Zeffirelli walks slowly towards you and drops the journal on the floor. “I’m sorry, Zeffirelli.”

“Why?” he asks breathlessly, standing in between your legs and settling his hands on your shoulders. “What have you to be sorry for? You have immortalized be forever with your words. How can I be anything but grateful. If- if I ever gave you the idea that I do not burn for you- that I do not turn towards you in every room like you are the sun and I am a flower, then I can do nothing but apologize profusely. There is more than one reason that you are my ensoleillement. You are grumpy and rude and you give me shit for everything I do, but you also light up my days and nights. You are warmth and home. You are everything.” Zeffirelli’s voice is breathless and rushed, his hands coming up to cup your face. They’re shaky and the calluses on his fingertips are rough against your cheekbones, but you lean into them anyway.

“Zef,” you whisper, like it’s the only word you know. Just as soft as his words, his lips come down to yours, hesitantly at first, but more sure as you don’t protest.

He truly is your everything. That’s the only thing running through your mind as he kisses you with everything he has.

“We’re going to be late to your favorite class,” he gasps in between frantic kisses. “Don’t be angry at me when you have extra homework.”

“I make no promises,” you laugh, pulling him back into you. “But I’ll try my best.” For him, you’ll do anything.

He’s your ensoleillement, your sunshine, just as you’re his.

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holocene-sims · 1 year

Text

next // previous

june 25, 2021 2:00 p.m. newcrest counseling center

[margot] hello, hello! good afternoon, how are you doing?

[grant] you know what, i'm okay. how are you?

[margot] i'm well. and on time again this week!

[margot] so, give me a little update on the last two weeks. i'm sensing a pretty big mood shift.

[grant] i'm kind of an all or nothing person. i either feel like shit or i feel amazing.

[grant] so it’s kind of that, but you know, at the same time, i think what we talked about last time and forcing myself to write the inner child letter did work.

[margot] i am very pleased to hear that.

[grant] obviously, i am not fixed, but it gave me the boost i needed to get myself back into gear for now.

[grant] life is still really stressful right now but i'm valuing trying to be on a normal schedule and trying to find some peace and joy wherever possible. i can’t say i understand life or why we’re all here on this planet, but i guess it’s my job to make the best of it, so i will.

[grant] and you know, writing the letter reminded me of something.

[margot] oh really? what did it remind you of?

[grant] well, you asked me to connect with my child self and give them a voice.

[grant] i tried to do that before. just in a very unofficial and not great way.

[margot] were you looking up inner child work online in the past? i know a lot of my clients have talked to me about how present that kind of content is on social media.

[grant] no, that wasn’t it. um, there was just a time in the past like my current situation where everything in my life was going wrong. something pushed me over the edge and i realized i had to fix things, and i could remember in that moment what it was like to be that kid getting hurt all the time by my parents, and it really destroyed me to realize i was doing that to myself.

[grant] but like i said, i didn’t deal with it properly that time. first of all, i didn’t have the right inner child concept to work with. all i recognized were some very, very strong negative feelings. also, i didn’t have the right response to those feelings. i snapped, hit rock bottom for a little bit, and then crawled out of it, shoved an entire life’s worth of pain down, and vowed to become a healthier person. and by a healthier person, i meant a person who just wouldn’t think about all those memories and feelings.

[grant] and that’s how i got sober and stable for eight years straight, a decent streak that only ended with my recent crisis moment.

[margot] would you like to talk about that event from the past?

[grant] not really. the memory of it keeps coming back to me, but i can’t let myself fully remember it. i thought about it when i stood up to päivi. i thought about it when i wrote the inner child letter. and i think i thought about it in one of our sessions. the last one, actually, when you asked me to write that letter and reminded me i can be free if i really work through all this.

[grant] and i thought about it this morning.

[margot] why this morning?

[grant] kelly–uh, my sister–followed me on instagram.

[margot] oh, i thought you were an only child. you’ve never mentioned siblings.

[grant] i have two sisters. they’re both older than me. one of them–the oldest, elizabeth–died from cancer a long time ago.

[margot] i'm so sorry.

[grant] it’s okay. i loved her a lot. more than anything. i really miss her.

[grant] and the other one…

[margot] you aren’t on good terms?

[grant] definitely not. i haven’t even seen kelly in almost a decade. i don’t know why she’d bother following me on social media.

[margot] did she leave you a message or anything?

[grant] she did and i deleted it immediately. i didn’t read it all, not even the first word.

[margot] can i ask why all these different particular things remind you of this event?

[grant] i really don’t want to remember it. just feeling those emotions and the memory of the memory is too much. it was maybe one of the worst days of my life. no, it was the worst day, tied with the day my sister died and the day of her funeral.

[margot] is there anything specific that makes you not want to remember it? or talk about it?

[grant] everything.

[grant] it’s a day no one talks about. no one. my whole family knows about it and it’s never been really brought up in conversation. they might mention it but that's all. we moved past it immediately.

[margot] so, it was really bad.

[grant] yes, and it was the day i graduated from college. that’s supposed to be one of the best days of your life, but no, it was my worst.

[margot] graduation, you said?

[grant] yes.

[margot] i seem to recall you mentioning that you stopped speaking to your parents when you graduated from college. you brought that up briefly when we talked a long time ago about your father reaching out to you and wanting a relationship with you.

[grant] well, you have a good memory.

[grant] it’s also the last time i saw my sister. the one who followed me on social media, i mean.

[margot] sounds like a very complicated situation.

[grant] whatever you think that day was like, make your imagination of it ten times worse.

[margot] what made you mention this memory at all? i'm just curious. you don’t want to talk about it–and that’s okay, i will never demand that of you–but you did bring it up.

[grant] i don’t know, i guess because doing the letter you asked me to write gave me some confidence. my confidence armor is, like, beat to shit and covered in holes, but it’s still going to protect me a little bit. and what about it that made me more confident in myself is that i've dug myself out of deeper holes before and with worse shovels. that day was digging myself out of the deepest circle of hell. anyway, that’s a bad way to describe it but i'm not a writer or anything.

[margot] don’t worry, your descriptions are just fine, i like them. and i know you are resistant to talk about your past in any detail, but yes, from what you’ve told me, things have been worse, and still you have done well for yourself. you’re correct, you can do this, and this time, you can really, genuinely heal. i said that last time, but it’s always good to be reminded of that.

[margot] i have much hope for you and i hope you do as well. i'm pleased to hear you saying that you feel confident in yourself.

[grant] funny, i used to hate that word so much. it made me sick because any hope i had was dashed as a kid. my life was like the ninth circle of hell. but for the last few days, hope has brought me some comfort. it’s hard to explain why my view suddenly shifted but oh well. i think things can be better. hope is the thing with feathers and all that.

[grant] my other sister really liked that poem, by the way. elizabeth. again, i hated that poem just like i hated the word hope, but maybe i kind of like it now. or at least maybe i can actually understand it these days. when my sister was around to read me that, i was too young and too deep in survival mode to grasp the meaning of it.

[margot] it’s a very nice poem. there are a lot of ways to describe hope but i think that one is the best.

[grant] actually, maybe i don’t get the meaning of that poem after all. i don't think i could explain it. i'm no english major. maybe i just like it because of who read it to me.

[margot] well, that’s the thing about poetry. it doesn’t have to be interpreted the same way. you don't need to explain what the author meant. whatever you get out of it is the correct interpretation.

[grant] interesting that you use those words. i just read those same exact words in a letter the other day. it wasn't about poetry but still. that’s turning into a motif for me, i guess.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 screenshots #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #sorry this is kinda long i was having trouble splitting it up #holocene.docx #holocene.png #hlcn: grant #hlcn: margot

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the-himawari · 1 year

Text

A3! Troupe Event Translation - Sunny Blanc (2/11)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Tsumugi’s grandmother: I’m sorry about this, Tsumu-chan. This isn’t such a big deal. I will feel better as long as I get a good night’s rest… Is it alright that you took a break from both your job and the theatre?

Tsumugi: I happen to be free right now, so it’s fine. Don’t worry, grandma. Relax and take it easy.

Tsumugi’s grandmother: Thank you. I’m happy that you’re staying at home for the first time in a while.

Tsumugi: I’m glad that I get to be with you too, grandma.

Zabi: Woof, woof!

Tsumugi: Fufu. And Zabi too, of course.

*ding dong*

Tsumugi: Ah, that must be Tasuku.

Tasuku: I bought what you asked for.

Tsumugi: Thanks. Sorry for asking you to go shopping on top of coming home with me.

Tasuku: Don’t worry about it. I was worried about grandma too. Besides, it worked out perfectly since Director asked me to come and I also had something to do at home. If you need anything again, just call me anytime.

Tsumugi: That’s a great help.

Tsumugi’s grandmother: Ta-chan? Would you like to eat some hot spring manjuu? I bought them when I went on a bus trip to a hot spring with a friend of mine.

Tasuku: Thank you. You’re always buying me souvenirs, grandma.

Tsumugi’s grandmother: Tsumu-chan’s sure to buy you a souvenir wherever he goes as well.

Tsumugi: Ahaha, that’s true, now that I think about it.

Tasuku: Alright, I’m going to head home. Make sure you head to bed early, grandma.

Tsumugi’s grandmother: I will do that. Thank you for everything. Goodnight.

Tasuku: Goodnight.

-pause-

Tsumugi: Good morning. I boiled some eggs for the morning.

Tsumugi’s grandmother: Oh my, it smells nice. You’ve gotten good at cooking, haven’t you, Tsumu-chan?

Tsumugi: I make this at the dorm once in a while, so I guess it’s thanks to that.

Tsumugi’s grandmother: I see. I have a photo of the first time you cooked, Tsumu-chan. If I recall correctly, it’s in that album…

Tsumugi: Don’t push yourself too hard, grandma. You should eat and then go right back to sleep.

Tsumugi’s grandmother: It’s alright. I’ve recovered tremendously thanks to you, Tsumu-chan. Your body will weaken if you stay still.

Tsumugi: Just a little then.

Tsumugi’s grandmother: Oh, here it is. Look at this fried egg. You burned it two times, but succeeded the third time around.

Tsumugi: You guys ate the burnt ones, didn’t you?

Tsumugi’s grandmother: Fufu. That sure takes me back.

Tsumugi: That reminds me, the two of us have gone to a flower garden before, haven’t we?

Tsumugi’s grandmother: Oh my… did we do something like that?

Tsumugi: Remember, we rode the bus… it was really large… where was it again?

Tsumugi’s grandmother: I don’t recall… I wonder if we have a photo.

Tsumugi: Mmm… I think I was around 6 or 7 years old… (I swear we went.)

Tsumugi’s grandmother: I’m sorry. I forget more and more things as the years go by.

Tsumugi: It’s almost been 20 years already, so it can’t be helped. (But it would feel a little sad forgetting my memories with grandma…)

-pause-

Hisoka: 1, 2, 3, 4…

Homare: Ow, ow, ow… please don’t push so hard. I’ll have you know I am not origami.

Hisoka: …Rather than origami, you’re a right angle.

Homare: I’m bending more than 90 degrees, you know!

Azuma: It sure is lively again today.

Izumi: Come to think of it, I got a message from Tsumugi-san saying they’re coming home tomorrow. Once the two of them are back, we’ll start discussing Winter troupe’s play.

Homare: That is great to hear. Rehearsal is not as thrilling without the two head theatre junkies here.

Guy: I look forward to seeing how our next performance will turn out.

Izumi: Alright, shall we get started?

Hisoka: …?

Azuma: What’s the matter?

Hisoka: (Azuma smells different than usual… Strange. I feel like I’ve smelled this somewhere before…)

*flashback starts*

Hisoka: I’m back… …What’s this smell?

August: Welcome back. Thank goodness you’re here first, December.

Hisoka: ???

August: I heard that sleeping with perfume on your bedding helps you relax. I gave it a try, but looks like I overdid it.

Hisoka: …April’s going to be mad once he’s back.

August: I know, I know. I hope the smell fades a little…

Hisoka: …I’ll get scolded with you.

August: We’re totally gonna get scolded, huh? Well, thanks.

*flashback ends*

Hisoka: …

Azuma: Are you alright, Hisoka?

Hisoka: … …You smell different than usual, Azuma.

Azuma: Oh, this? A friend gave me some perfume as a present saying it would suit me. I suppose this scent wasn’t your cup of tea, hm? Sorry about that.

Hisoka: No, that’s not it.

Azuma: Is that so? That’s a relief.

Hisoka: (I remembered August from a scent earlier as well.) (My warm, precious memories with August… How could I have forgotten them?)

Izumi: Shall we start with etudes today?

Homare: It is probably going to be harder than usual since we have fewer people.

Hisoka: … (I wonder if I’ll also forget my precious memories of my daily life with everyone one day…) (I thought that even if I lost my memories, I could just make them again… but now, I feel kind of scared…) *Sigh*…

Homare: …

---

previous | next

#a3!#a3! translation #mikage hisoka #act! addict! actors!

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darcyfangirlsfrequently · 2 years

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Two Can Play at this Game

@snailsandpuppy-dogtails @dungeons-are-too-cold @penelopeminded this one is for you my homies

Summary: At a family dinner, Penelope is asked if she's seeing anyone. She says she is, and she starts going on this loving rant about him. Little does everyone else know, he's sitting right beside her, and Luke is having a hard time not blowing their cover.

Words: 1304

Rated: T for language and implied sexual content

Can also be read here on Ao3

After two weeks of practically back to back cases, the team decided that it was time for a family dinner. When Penelope left they had decided to make family dinners something they did as often as they could, their way of staying together when they were apart.

“So, Penelope,” Rossi said. “It’s been so long since we’ve actually gotten to talk to you. What’s going on in your life? How’s work? Are you seeing anyone?”

“Work is great,” she replied. And then, before she could talk herself out of it, she said, “And yes, I actually have been seeing someone for a few months now.”

Luke, who was sitting right next to her, choked on his drink. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one, so it didn’t look suspicious.

“For months?” JJ repeated. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sorry, JJ,” Reid said. “You kept Will a secret for how long?”

“Point taken.”

“So what’s his name?” Tara asked.

“No.”

“No? That’s an interesting name,” Emily joked.

“Shut up. I mean, no, I’m not telling you his name. I don’t want you guys to track him down to the ends of the earth before we’ve decided if we want you guys to meet him.” Plus, she wanted to drive Luke crazy, but she couldn’t very well tell them that, now could she?

“Quite understandable,” Rossi told her. She knew he would understand, considering he had kept Krystall a secret from them almost until he proposed.

“Well can you at least tell us about him?” Matt asked. “No name, no identifying information, just general stuff? You can’t say, oh yeah I’m dating someone and then give us nothing!”

She considered this for a moment. “Alright, sure. Let me just think over what I’m going to say so I don’t accidentally give some identifying information to you pesky profilers.”

Luke had no idea how he was going to survive what was to come.

“Well, I mean first of all, he’s gorgeous, like, absolutely the most beautiful man I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” Luke quipped in an attempt to seem neutral.

“Oh please, he knows where he stands.”

There was a hidden message in there just for him, and he had to fight back his smile.

“Anyways,” she continued. “He’s really good with animals, he loves Sergio, they’re cuddle buddies.”

“I like this new man of yours already,” Emily said, taking a sip of her wine.

Well that’s a relief, Luke thought.

“And he’s so kind. Just… the sweetest, very romantic. He took me to a restaurant that had slow dancing for our first date.”

Luke had to take a sip of his drink to hide his smile of pride.

A soft smile spread on Penelope’s face. “He’s just… so completely great.”

“Oh my god,” JJ said. “You’re in love with him.”

“What?” Penelope squeaked. “In love? Why would you say that?”

Luke couldn’t help himself. “That, Penelope, is called a non-denial denial.”

If looks could kill, he’d be dead. “Watch yourself, Newbie.”

“Can you even call me that anymore? We haven’t worked together in months.” I mean and we’ve been dating since then and you’ve just kind of admitted you’re in love with me, but I’m not going to say that right now.

“JJ’s right, though,” Reid said. “When you were talking about him your pupils dilated and you got this smile on your face. You’re in love with him.”

Penelope’s blush was fierce. That was absolutely not how she planned on telling Luke she loved him for the first time. “Fine, yes, I’m in love with him, next question?”

“Have you told him yet?” JJ asked.

“No. I mean, it’s still kind of new, and I don’t know if he feels the same way… I don’t want to scare him off, you know?”

That broke Luke’s heart a bit, both the fact that she thought he’d leave her for telling him she loved him and that she had no idea how completely in love with her he was.

“Have you kissed him?” Emily asked in an attempt to make the topic lighter again.

“Yes.”

“Was it good?”

“The best.”

Luke had to take multiple deep breaths to keep himself from turning around and making out with her in front of the entire team.

Tara got a cheeky grin on her face. “Have you slept with him yet?”

Luke wanted to die, but fortunately, Rossi came to the rescue. “Ah ah ah, that is a conversation for girls’ night, not my dinner table.”

Tara cackled, and Luke and Penelope were doing their absolute best to not look at each other.

“Well,” Emily said. “Anyone else have a secret relationship they want to tell us about?”

Well, two can play at this game. “Yeah, actually.”

Everyone stared at Luke. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. I’ve been seeing her for a few months now, and I haven’t said anything because no one in this group can keep their mouths shut, goddamn.”

"If you're talking about me, Luke Alvez, that's very rude," Penelope told him.

Actually, you're the one person I'm not talking about. "No, no, I'm not talking about everyone. I didn't want them to try to profile or weasel it out of me because once I start talking about her, I can't stop and I know I'd let it slip."

"Well then tell us about her," Reid said. "Since you can't stop."

"Gladly. She's the most amazing and kind-hearted person I have ever met in my entire life. She is Jesus Christ you are miles and miles out of my league, how the fuck did I end up with you, gorgeous, inside and out. She loves Roxy, and I think Roxy likes her more than me. When she smiles she gets this sparkle in her eyes that doesn't go away for hours and it's my favorite thing in the world. And she's funny, always making me laugh, and like, ridiculously smart."

"What the hell is she doing with you, then?" Tara teased.

"I have no idea, but I'm never letting her go. I am so fucking in love with her it's not even funny. Like, completely gone."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Penelope trying not to react. "And she loves you?" It was like an echo of one of their first conversations. He was talking about Roxy, she thought he was talking about his girlfriend. This time, however, there was a double meaning. The rest of the team heard and she loves you? A teasing question, typical of their usual banter. He heard and she loves you. A declaration. A promise.

"Yeah, she does."

"Tell her to call me when she comes to her senses."

He laughed. "Yeah, I will. You'd love her, I think. She's always giving me crap. Sometimes I think she's only dating me for Roxy and my culinary skills."

Matt scoffed at that. "What culinary skills?"

"I make a mean lasagna."

"It's true, he does," Penelope agreed. "Vegetarian, too."

Everyone, including Luke, turned to stare at her with wide eyes. While their expressions were varying levels of shock, his was sheer amusement. Had they really just done that whole song and dance for her to go and say that?

She looked back at them, blinking in confusion. "What?"

JJ smiled a bit, trying to hold in her laughter. "When did he make you vegetarian lasagna?"

Penelope's eyes went wide as she realized what she said, and wider still at the (correct) implications. "Oh. Um. I." She turned to Luke. "I can't explain my way out of this, can I?"

He smiled affectionately at her and took her hand in this. "No, Love, I don't think you can."

She blushed at the nickname and turned back towards the group. "So, his name is Luke…"

#Garvez #Garvez Fanfiction #Luke ALvez #Penelope Garcia #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds fanfiction

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ofgentleresolve · 1 year

Text

harbinger ( drabble one ft. patrick & myungdae )

He smiles knowing this is going to be the last time his dear friend will see him.

a/n: hey so remember when i said i was tempted to write patrick’s goodbye letter/audio message/note? well alex and xia enabled me ( THANK YOU SO MUCH ) and this happened fjskldj also interpretation of lee hyuk belongs to alex at @jeoseungsaja ( except i consider lee hyuk to be alex’s oc sorry these are only facts JFKLSDJF )

words: 823 words

---

September 20th, 2016

*The video starts; he’s sitting at his desk with his room in the background. It’s not completely visible, but his apartment is messier than usual. There are books and folders and files strewn everywhere, some of them peeking into the camera. His bed behind him is unmade. He looks more bedraggled than usual too, with his hair messy, his skin a bit more ashen, and not to mention the bags beneath his eyes are more prominent. Like he hasn’t seen the light of day in weeks.*

*He stares back into the camera for a long moment as if to check if the video is recording. And then he glances up and coughs discreetly into his hand. Clearly, he’s not used to doing this.*

“Right…uh, so today is September 20th, 2016. It’s a Wednesday at 10:04 PM, GMT Time Zone.”

*He chuckles albeit nervously before scratching his cheek. A look up as he smiles bashfully.*

“Hello, Hyuk. Surprised to see this? Neither of us are exactly wizards when it comes to technology and I suppose it’s not quite like me, using technology when pen and paper is readily available. But I…for some reason, I wasn’t able to quite put this on paper. Forgive me- it most likely would be safer for you to receive this as a letter rather than through here. You would have said it yourself- you never know who is watching. I suppose you can double that number when it comes to using the ‘dark web’.

“I got on a tangent there. Let me get to the point. If you’re watching this, I’m going to assume the worst-case scenario has happened and I…I’m not with the living anymore.”

*Suddenly, he chuckles. It’s not forced, but it doesn’t sound jubilant either.*

“My apologies, it most likely doesn’t for you, but I guess it sounds a little silly, me saying that. Maybe I am exaggerating this; maybe I’m being unnecessarily obstinate. Maybe I’m just going to hit a dead end and all of this is going to be for nothing, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t just it let rest. I needed to see for myself if she, she was meant to-“

*He blinks rapidly and looks away from the camera for a moment. A hand scrubs at the corner of his eye.*

“…Sorry. Anyways, I know what you’re probably thinking; why didn’t I tell you? Actually if you happen to get ahold of this in any other scenario, I think I know what you would say.”

*He puts on his best Hyuk voice and though his voice sounds mock angry and it’s easy to see he’s trying not to laugh.*

“Yah- why didn’t you tell me this sooner, pabo- don’t you know that I’m a pigeon- I’m coming back whether you like it or not, we’re stuck together you know that!”

*And then he breaks his impression with a genuine laugh and shakes his head.*

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-it’s not that I didn’t want you to know, but if you found out, I have a feeling you would’ve dropped everything to come over and I know they assigned your current case because of me. You’ve already done so much for me and I’ve relied too much on it. On you. I haven’t been that great of a friend these last few months either. I’m sorry; I know I should have reached out more, been a better friend to you.

“But that’s not why I made this. I guess, I just…wanted you to have this, again, in case anything happens to me. If that does end up being the reality, please…please don’t give up. There are still a lot of good things in this world, Hyuk. A lot of good people, people worth protecting and getting to know. You’re not alone in this world. I know you’re going to probably shut yourself away for a while, grieve me for even longer- do so for as long as you need to and when you’re ready, go forward. It’s not good to hold onto things for longer than needed- that’s why I’m probably going to be considered a fool by the end of this. Don’t make the same mistakes I did, Hyuk.”

*Silence. The lamp on his desk flickers.*

“…Do one thing for me though? Drink some hot chocolate for me once in while. Make sure you do the things that make you happy- if not for yourself then because I asked you to.”

*He glances at the bottom of the screen.*

“I guess…this is getting a bit long, so I’ll end it here. I care about you. A lot, Hyuk. Please be well. Hopefully, you won’t have to watch this though and I can do all these things with you when this is over. But again, this isn’t going to be sent out unless the worst case happens to me.”

*He smiles knowing this is going to be the last time his dear friend will see him.*

“Take care, Hyuk-ah.”

*The video ends.*

fin.

#( writing. )#a true gentleman ( patrick. )#a knight is never without their sword ( myungdae. )#first time writing in this format so it was fun!! :D #hahaha regardless of which verse...hyuk gets to hear this one....#alex if you want to take me to court i'll go....BUT ALSO YOU'RE GOING DOWN WITH ME :'D #THANK YOU TO YOU AND XIA FOR ENABLING ME HERE JFSKLDJFLSDKJ F #not me sobbing over the fact that patrick sent this knowing that hyuk's in a place with bad reception #and therefore wouldn't receive this until the news got to him #i’m 🙃🙃🙃#myungdae five years later is just like 'famous last words this is the worst'#also if nell and alfred ever heard this #not alfred just being like '...no wonder he's on our backs YOU SENT HIM HERE D-: '#BUT ALSO ALEX!!! if any of this doesn't ring true to you regarding hyuk #pls let me know and i can change things!!#i have!! all ur memes and i am VERY EXCITED to get to them <3

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nightingaleflow · 11 months

Note

how do your ocs make gaara laugh? would love examples 💕

Ask and ye shall receive, nonnie. <3

Sorry this took so long to get out (writing with an angry shoulder + a spicy brain is hard, who knew). But have some short and sweet scenes (600 - 900 words each) with Aki, Tori, Jun, and Holly.

Also, thank you for giving me an opportunity to write something with Jun! She's the only one I haven't written anything for yet, so it was nice to finally give her a voice. <3

*Be advised, Holly's is more adult in nature (not explicit but still sexually charged) and contains minor spoilers for Who You Are At Night. Proceed at your own risk.

~Aki Kamiya~

People often wondered why Gaara insisted on having Aki present for council meetings, especially after they married. Most in Suna assumed that the Kazekage’s wife would have a more traditional role, maintaining the household and appearing at his side for public events. It was true that she was not a member of the council herself - only Gaara’s assistant - and in most matters that came up these days, they tended to have similar opinions. So it was technically unnecessary to have her there.

But what they didn’t know was the delight Gaara got to experience whenever she tore into one of the council members like a jackal. He always had to fold his hands in front of his mouth, carefully concealing his smile as the unfortunate Council member tried to make himself smaller in his chair.

Today, the recipient of Aki’s wrath was Shota, a council member who had started only two months ago. He’d come in guns blazing, with lots of ideas of how to reform the village. Gaara had had to remind him a few times about who the Kazekage was, but he still didn’t seem to get the message.

Gaara had a feeling he’d remember after today.

“I compiled this report for you a week ago, Shota, when you stressed to me how urgent it was. And you’re telling me you still haven’t looked at it?” Aki said, her voice icy cold despite the warmth from the desert sun streaming through the windows. “Tell me, do you think I do this job for fun? Do you think I spent a full day running around gathering this data because I have nothing better to do?” She slammed the documents in front of him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve wasting my time.”

Shota jumped back, trying to make himself as small as possible in his chair. “You should watch your tone,” he said, pointing a shaking finger at her. “I outrank you. So you do what I tell you to do.”

Aki’s expression darkened. A vein bulged in her forehead.

Several of the council members politely hid smiles of their own. Kankuro leaned over to Gaara. “I wish I had some popcorn.”

Gaara didn’t comment, but he agreed.

Aki hauled him out of his chair, the height difference between them so great that his feet dangled off the floor. “You’ve got a lot of nerve for someone whose last budget report hinged on each of our shinobi only receiving a salary of 100 ryo,” she growled.

Shota blanched. “That was a mistake-”

“Damn right it was,” Aki snarled. “A mistake that I caught. Just like I caught the missing food pills and the lack of signature on your inventory of our armory. And that’s not even getting into your rebuttal of our curriculum proposals for the Academy! Did you even go to the Academy? Because I find it hard to believe when you don’t even know what the current curriculum consists of!”

Shota stopped trying to respond. He just shook in her hands, waiting for it to be over.

“So the next time you think about spouting off bullshit about rank, maybe you should actually learn how to do your job so I don’t have to keep cleaning up your messes.”

She dropped him back in his seat, then briskly walked around the table until she once again sat at Gaara’s side.

Gaara cleared his throat. “We’ll table that report until the next meeting then,” he said, somehow keeping his voice steady. He gave Shota a critical look. “I’m certain you can get it done by then.”

Shota nervously looked between him and Aki. “Yes, Lord Kazekage.”

The meeting wrapped a few minutes later. Gaara led Aki back to his office, where he barely locked the door before his snickers began. “Meetings are always so much better when you’re in attendance,” he said.

Aki smirked. “Ah, I see. That’s why you have me attend those stupid meetings.” She playfully nudged his shoulder, which only made him laugh harder. “You want me to entertain you.”

“Yes, you got me,” Gaara said, his tone lighthearted.

Aki chuckled and leaned over. “You’re lucky I love you,” she said, her lips brushing his cheek.

Gaara glowed, his cheeks turning a light pink. “I really am.”

~Tori Kawasaki feat. Rock Lee~

Tori perked up as soon as the front door opened. She set her pen down on her desk, then hurried to the front entrance. Gaara had just hung up his cloak as Tori wrapped her arms around him. “Welcome home,” she murmured. “Lee is out training - he should be home soon.”

Gaara sank into her embrace. “Thank you, my love,” he said, his voice weary. “It’s good to be home.”

Tori tensed. “Are you all right?”

Gaara nodded. He kissed her forehead, then pushed past her to the living room couch. Tori followed, folding her arms. “Gaara.”

He looked up at her as she folded her legs next to him. “I know that look,” she said softly. “What happened?”

Gaara shook his head, hiding his expression from her. Tori simply leaned on him, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “I understand if you don’t want to talk,” she said. “But I’m still here.” She gently kissed his temple. “I love you.

He sighed. “I love you too,” he said, sadness creeping into his voice. “That’s why today was so frustrating.”

Tori raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent.

“The meeting ran twice as long as was necessary,” he replied. “Shota was determined to reject the proposal to have the students be tested for their chakra affinities upon entering the Academy, and stalled out the meeting as long as possible hoping the measure would fail.”

Tori tutted. “His efforts were in vain, In hope?”

“He did,” Gaara said. “But because of it, I wasn’t able to get to the biggest topic I wanted to discuss today.” He grew quiet. “The topic of our marriage.”

Tori sucked in a breath.

“I’m ready to present the union to the Council,” Gaara said. “But because of the delay, it will have to wait until Monday when the Council reconvenes.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I know that you and Lee have been waiting for this…”

Tori just smiled. “And if we have to wait a little longer, that’s fine. I promised you that I was yours forever, Gaara, marriage or no marriage, and I don’t go back on my promises. Neither does Lee.” She nuzzled into his neck. “Did you really think a weekend delay would chase us off so easily?”

Gaara smiled weakly. “No, I suppose not.”

Tori looked up with an exaggerated pout. “What’s this ‘I suppose’ about?” she asked, making her eyes as big as possible.

Finally, Gaara chuckled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I should have known better.”

“Damn right,” Tori said, grinning.

She pulled Gaara closer as she covered his face and neck with kisses. He laughed, leaning back and happily accepting her eager affection. She giggled in return, his laughter music to her ears. “Feeling better now?” she asked, her lips brushing his ear.

“A little,” Gaara said, smiling up at her. “But I’m not sure I’m quite back to normal yet.”

Just then, the front door opened, and Lee called, “I’m home!”

Tori’s smirk was devious. “Lee, come in here!”

Lee stuck his head in, his eyes widening a little when he saw them.

“Gaara’s feeling rather down. He needs some love to help him feel better,” Tori said.

“Ah, of course!” Lee said. “I am happy to help!”

He sat down on Gaara’s other side, wrapping his arms around Gaara. Then he and Tori smothered Gaara with kisses, covering every inch of his face and neck until Gaara was crying from laughter. When they finally let him up for air, he leaned back against the sofa, his heart full. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breathy.

Tori chuckled and gave him one final kiss. “Anytime,” she murmured.

~Jun~

Suna had transformed almost overnight. Strings of lights shimmered over every building, bathing the sandy ground in warm light even after the sun went down. Vendors selling everything from yakitori to glass ornaments lined the streets, inviting anyone who passed to come closer. Festival goers were dressed in colorful robes, smiling and laughing.

It warmed Gaara’s heart to see his home come alive like this. But what made this festival even more special was seeing Jun experience it for the first time.

She too was dressed in festival attire, black robes with the same gold threads that Gaara had in his red ones. Her wide eyes darted in every direction, her auburn hair flying around her head. She clung tightly to his arm, and he could feel her vibrating with excitement.

“This is incredible,” she said, her voice quieter than it had ever been. “I had no idea something like this was even possible.”

“Takigakure didn’t host festivals like this, then?”

Jun shook her head. “Small ceremonies for the chief, a fishing festival in the spring, a harvest festival in the fall, and a celebration of the new year. But there’s nothing on this scale.”

“We hold several festivals like this every year,” Gaara said. “So you’ll only have to wait about a month and a half for the next.”

Jun’s face lit up. “Well, no time like the present!” She tugged on his arm. “Show me everything!”

Gaara did just that, showing her every aspect of the festival. She bought a glass pendant from a vendor, and he bought them stuffed vine leaves to eat. They said hello to Gaara’s siblings near the stage where the junior members of the puppet corps were performing, and Gaara noticed they seemed unnaturally happy to see Jun on his arm. They also said hello to several villagers, all of whom seemed to have a similar reaction.

Their last stop was the place Gaara always avoided come festival time: the dance. He had hoped to just quickly show her and leave, but Jun tugged on his arm to stop him. “Want to dance?” she asked.

Gaara winced. He had never learned to dance. It had seemed unnecessary in his youth, not that anyone had been willing to teach him. Now, it was just something he avoided so he didn’t make a fool of himself.

But she sounded so hopeful. Her dark eyes pleaded with him to say yes. If he said no, it would devastate her. But if he said yes, he would make a fool of himself and disappoint her anyway.

Jun tilted her head as Gaara mulled over what to do. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Gaara said quickly. “I just…”

He hesitated, but Jun caught on immediately. “You don’t know how to dance?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

Jun just smiled. “That’s fine,” she said, extending a hand. “I can teach you if you like.”

“That’s very kind, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I’d like to, though, if you’ll let me.”

Gaara blinked. A flicker of nerves still burned within him, but she was so sincere in asking…

“All right.” He inclined his head. “But not here.”

“Fine with me,” Jun said. “Lead the way.”

Jun was a surprisingly good teacher. She worked with Gaara for an hour, quickly teaching him the basic steps for one of Takigakure’s dances. Gaara absorbed everything she said, copying her movements with ease. Once they worked through the entire dance, she had him go through it twice at half-speed, only having to correct him three times on the first pass. By the second, he had it down, and was even smiling as the dance came to an end.

Jun beamed at him. “Ready for full speed?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Gaara said, taking her hand as the music from below started anew.

He stumbled through his first few steps, but Jun pulled him right back in, refusing to let him apologize. He continued to follow her for the first minute, watching for her cues to kick and dip. But as he gained more confidence in his footing, he took over, leading her into a spin with ease. She laughed as she twirled, as free as a bird in flight, and he couldn’t help but laugh with her as he pulled her back into him.

Then, just as he pulled her back up from a dip, the music ended. They lingered there, Jun panting and flushed as he held her close.

“See?” she said. “I knew you could do it!”

He glowed at her compliment, feeling warmer than if the sun were still out. “It’s only because I have such an excellent teacher.”

Jun giggled. “You’re definitely my best student.”

Gaara raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “Aren’t I your only student?”

“Yes, but that still means you’re the best.”

Gaara laughed at that. Then Jun gestured toward the dance floor below. “Ready for the real thing?”

“Yes, as long as you’re with me.”

Jun grinned, then stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

~Holly Reed~

Holly relaxed on her towel. The sun beamed down, warming her tanned skin and darkening her glasses. The ocean breeze rolled in with the waves, making her hair flutter. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, smelling the salty air.

It felt like she was home.

She stretched out, brushing off errant grains of sand from her calf. But as she did so, she heard a soft sigh from next to her. She cracked open an eye to see Gaara watching her from his own towel, his cheeks a light pink. She stretched a little more deliberately, her black two-piece helping her emphasize her chest and waist, and the pink on Gaara’s face darkened.

“See something you like?” she teased.

Gaara started, then looked away. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to stare.”

Holly snickered, then rested a hand on his thigh. “Yes, you did,” she said, idly tracing circles on his skin. “Don’t lie to me.”

“...All right, yes, I did.”

“Gaara, you don’t have to apologize,” Holly said. “You should know by now it’s okay to look.”

Gaara nodded, but he still didn’t look up, his dark eyes closed.

Holly sighed. She lifted her hand, tracing the shape of a small wave in the air. Golden particles painted the air wherever her finger moved. Once she completed the drawing, the golden particles darkened and warped, taking the form of actual water. Gaara yelped as it splashed him, shaking out his darkened hair. “What was that for?”

“I had to make you look at me somehow,” Holly said, hiding a snicker behind her hand.

Gaara’s eyes narrowed, but the small smirk ruined any threat he was trying to display. “Fine, you have my attention now.” He leaned over, pressing Holly into her towel, his face hovering a few inches above her. “Now, what should I do as retribution?”

Holly gave him a half-lidded smile. “I don’t think I’ve done anything that requires retribution.”

His lips brushed against her ear. “I respectfully disagree.”

She let out a low chuckle. Then she tapped his shoulder. Gaara lifted his head, and she smiled coyly at him before pointing up. He followed her gaze, only to see a wall of water floating right above him.

Gaara’s eyes widened, but he didn’t have time to react further. He gasped as the icy water crashed down, goosebumps cascading across his skin. When the deluge ceased, he looked down, water dripping from his nose. Holly had made herself small, using him as a shield, so she was still mostly dry.

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Then Holly giggled, pressing her hand against her mouth. Gaara tried to stop himself, but her laugh was infectious, and he let out a chuckle of his own. This only made Holly laugh harder, tears of mirth stinging her eyes as she teasingly prodded the tip of his nose. “Okay, now I have.”

Gaara laughed with her. “So you admit it.”

Holly grinned. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Well,” Gaara replied. “Since you got me wet…” His hand brushed up her thigh. “I think I should return the favor.”

Holly raised an eyebrow. “How is that a punishment?”

Gaara kissed her forehead, then said, “Like this.”

He rolled off Holly as his sand yanked her off the ground. She let out a startled yelp as she was flung into the sea, creating an enormous splash. Gaara folded his arms with a smirk as she resurfaced, giving him a death glare that would have made a lesser man shiver. “I’m gonna get you back for that!” she called.

He lay back on his towel. “I look forward to it.”

#ask nightingale #anon #thank you this was fun #we stan a happy Gaara in this house #nightingale writes #Gaara #Gaara x OC #oc talk #Aki Kamiya #Holly Reed #Tori Kawasaki #Jun #sexy no jutsu

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laminy · 1 year

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Hello again! I know we talked like… literally a day ago and I got very distracted with talking about another subject (sorry about that, that was on me).

I’ve reached chapter ten of ITSBASM!! (I know you probably don’t need an update report on my reading of your fanfic lol but let me compliment you please)

And I haven’t even read THAT far into the story but oh my word… you’re one of the most talented writers hands down. You’re so descriptive, you’re great at slow burn (and normally I really dislike slow burn because I can be impatient lol but your slow burn is amazing).

The fact that you did research for the story is really awesome (and definitely tricky to find accurate and/or helpful information. It can also be difficult to find the exact information you might need so kudos to you!)!

Here’s my rant about your series so far (sorry if I mess anything up or if my rant sounds choppy, I am writing this as my brain thinks at the speed of light)

(Sort of spoilers for those who don’t want spoilers)

I love Gwilym so much. I also love his friendship with Rami and jeez Joe is honestly such a mood at times lol. I’m so so so pleased with the dynamics and even though they aren’t the wholesome family we know and love yet, that’s alright.

I of course feel bad for East since he certainly wanted his crew to be able to adjust to their “new life” and how East made sure they’d all be alright before he sadly died. I do like how you had John feel remorse towards East and his death, even though his last interaction with East wasn’t very pleasant. It shows that John did respect East nonetheless.

I also wanted to compliment you on how amazing you were able to describe Gwilym’s emotions and feelings. I love how you implemented Joe telling Rami that no matter how much he wants to help Gwilym feel even a little bit better, it’s ultimately up to Gwilym to “get better” if you know what I mean.

And I also love how you have written Ben. He is definitely the youngest out of them and to have such tough responsibilities and jobs, you’ve created the perfect atmosphere and mood to show that Ben is wise and smart beyond his years and beyond what people assume of him just because of his age.

Gwilym and Rami’s friendship is written amazingly and I’m absolutely loving it! Joe and Ben’s friendship is also amazingly strong and I love that as well! I love all the moments with Gwilym and Rami and Ben and Joe, again I’m a sucker for special friendship dynamics!

Anyways I just wanted to tell you about how I feel with the series (I awkwardly don’t have an account yet on AO3 so I can’t reply on that… I’ll end up making an account someday but not this day lol).

But yeah again, I absolutely am loving your series and it’s probably going to be one of my absolute top favorites ever so yeah!

And by the way, if you don’t want me to continue to send you asks about your series, just let me know! I can be quite obnoxious at times lol. But yeah your series is amazing!

You can send me as many asks as you want, oh my gosh, I don't mind at all. If you don't want me to publish my responses or want me to just message you privately, please let me know! I don't want to post anything that you don't want people to see.

Chapter 10 is always where I thought, if this were a TV show, Chapter 10 would be the end of season one, with Gwil coming out of his room. So, that's a pretty good turning point in the story. There is still a lot more to come but that was a pretty big step for Gwil.

I loved writing all their friendships, as they grow and get closer, Gwil and Joe will have their little moments (bigger moments as things go on) and same with Ben and Rami. I enjoyed writing the romances and obviously I think a lot of people were on board with them, but I knew that just as many people, if not more, wanted a story about their friendship and as I was writing it, I just wanted them all to be a really happy group of four.

As for all the compliments, I will happily take them and tell you how much I appreciate them. I think I have other shorter stories, one shots, that I would rather read, but in terms of like, the world created, ITBASM is probably the best thing I've ever written. It's definitely the story that made me really feel like a writer, and it helped me through some dark times. So, I'm really happy you're enjoying it, thank you for letting me know :)

#thank you!!!

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suzdotranslation · 2 years

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[Interview TL] Utsugi Uyu animate interview -3D debut commemoration-

Original article

An interview session to commemorate Holostars UPROAR!!'s 3D debut! Third Guest: Utsugi Uyu

———————————————————————————— "We'll do our best to work on it so that we could at least catch up to our seniors even by a small bit" ————————————————————————————

── Please introduce yourself.

Uyu: I'm Utsugi Uyu! Cafe Manager and part-time Phantom Thief from Holostars UPROAR!! group! My hobbies are visiting various coffee shops and reading online novels, I mainly stream e-sports-related games and horror games as well! I decided to join Hololive Production in order to get a certain "treasure" only idols could get!

── Could you describe your reaction the moment your 3D reveal debut was decided and your feeling nearing the debut day?

Uyu: First off, I was really happy from the bottom of my heart. In just under 8 months, I feel like I'm getting closer to all of my senior's great presence. Of course, I've gone through not only good things but also a share of painful and rough moments but it's thanks to the listeners who keep supporting us and the staff who has been helping as well, we managed to reach the day where we can announce this 3D unveiling stream. However on the other hand, as we haven't even reached a year since our debut, I felt quite anxious to accept this. We're still inexperienced at best, but we'll do our best to work on it so that we could at least catch up to our seniors even by a small bit.

── With the reveal stream just a few days ahead, what kind of stream you’ve prepared for it?

Uyu: I've thought about a lot of things in order to make the stream an enjoyable one for everyone. It doesn't matter how old are you or what gender you are as I've prepared something that'll sure to make you guys smiles non-stop, so look forward to it! As for myself, this will be my first-time experience so I'm also quite anxious but I shall do my best for it, all so that I could give you the most excellent performance. I'm looking forward to everyone's impressions after this! Please let me see your impression later okay! (laughs)

── If you had any message for everyone who’s looking forward to your 3D reveal stream, please let us hear it!

Uyu: Thanks to everyone's various support, I've made it this far. I cannot thank you guys enough for it!! I'm sorry I wasn't able to stream as much lately, as I was busy with all the preparation and lessons. I once wondered why do I have to lessen my streaming frequency before I could announce my 3D unveiling stream, but now I could finally let you guys know about it. There'll be more things I could do after getting my 3D model, so I hope you'll look forward to it!

UPROAR!!’s members’ supportive messages are also present!

Yatogami Fuma I'm more on the picky side when it's about details but Uyu has an even stronger preference than I do, so I'm really looking forward to it! He has been preparing stuff from way back too, it sure makes you even more excited right!? He's a member with a lot of potentials, so I hope everyone is watching with great expectations!!!!

Hizaki Gamma Uyu, gratz for 3D!!! You got a nice style that I got so jealous of!! Let me know if there are any heels I could wear too! Let's get along from now on too yeah!! 🤟😎

Minase Rio As someone who wants to show his stoic side more than anyone else, I'm sure Uyu would be able to make everyone as excited! So don't worry too much, believe in yourself and do your best!!

#type: interviews #topic: holostars #topic: utsugi uyu

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hkblack · 2 years

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Breaking a Beta-Reading Relationship Part 2

Last time we talked about beta-readers walking away from stories and writers. This time we’re talking about writers taking their stories away from beta-readers.

Let’s start with the why you would want to do this.

The story has taken a new direction and you know this new direction includes a no-go for your beta-reader

You have a deadline approaching and the beta-reader has not done anything yet

Beta-reader stopped responding to you

The notes the beta-reader gave you are not what you were looking for

The notes feel like they are trying to change the story

Which is often because the reader doesn’t understand the intent of the story

But also, this might feel like they are trying to co-write instead of edit

The notes the beta-reader gave you made you feel like a terrible no good very bad writer and person

Personality Conflicts

Long post is long underneath the cut!

In general, any time you have to end a relationship with someone, communication is key. So, when we look at things like 1 & 2 (Knowing your beta-readers no-gos have now been added to the story or having an approaching deadline) talk with them about it. Offer your reader an out of the project if they need, thank them for the work they’ve done or the offer to volunteer. But the key here is communication. Feelings are less likely to get hurt on all sides if you just say something. Sometimes folks will message me with something like “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a nag but there’s a deadline coming up and—” Don’t apologize!! I’m a very busy person with a lot of beta-reading projects and while I now have a spreadsheet (which is working great, btw, 10/10 do recommend) to help me not lose sight of things—things still happen.

And communication even works when the beta-reader ghosts you. It’s an unfortunate thing when it happens, and I wish it didn’t, but alas. It’s one of the drawbacks of online communities and asking for free labor from folks. I have some rules for establishing whether or not I’ve been ghosted. I like to reach out and make sure they just haven’t been swamped and forgotten. But if someone stops replying to the pings after the 5th ignored ping, I move on. How often do I ping them? Depends on the project and the timeline that we’ve discussed tbh. This mostly only happens on longer projects without strict deadlines, so if you have a looming deadline hopefully you’ve already moved on. But also, if they reply but they keep saying the same thing (think: “yes, doing it this weekend!”) three times in a row and don’t respond to the fourth ping…that’s a sign. If you’d like to send a “Thanks for the work you’ve done/volunteering! I think I’m going to find someone else to read this for me” message, that’s totally allowed, but if they ghost you with no message, you’re allowed to ghost back.

Where communication alone is not enough is when we start getting into the types of notes people are giving. This is where setting boundaries as a writer comes into play.

When you first ask for a beta-reader, you should be clear about what you are looking for from the beta-read, and when someone volunteers, you should start with a conversation before handing off your story where you clarify and confirm what kind of notes you are looking for.

Just like writers, beta-readers have different level of skill in the work they do. So even with this conversation, you may find a beta-reader giving you notes that aren’t quite what you were hoping for. Beyond skill, in the last post I talked about how there’s a lot of fear in beta-reading sometimes. You don’t want to offend someone you don’t know well, beta-readers aren’t always confident in giving good constructive feedback, and some writers aren’t great at receiving constructive feedback. So, you might get a lot of “no this is great! No changes needed!” notes when you know you’ve got some misplaced commas.

There’s also a line that beta-readers have to balance where they offer suggestions and fixes from their brain, without changing your story. And some readers are better than this than others. I’ve also had very green beta-readers jump into a story of mine and start off with giving their AU-ideas to my AU, and then offer suggestions not for the story in front of them, but the story they want to be reading instead. Sometimes readers might miss the point of the story and their suggestions are in good faith, and sometimes it feels like they are trying to hi-jack your story.

In both these cases you’ve got two options: First you can thank them politely for the work they’ve done, let them know you’re going to keep working on the story “with their notes in mind,” and that you might find another beta reader to get “more fresh insight!” Then you can restrict their access to your story by changing the link sharing permissions, or removing them from your Google Doc, etc. and move on. Your other choice is to do the same as above, but also be more explicit in why you’re moving on. I would only recommend doing this if you know that you’re good at letting people down, positive you can be “professional” and kind, and not afraid of consequences that may come regardless of how well you handle the situation. Here’s some example scripts.

Start with:

“Hi there! Thank you so much for your work on [fic]. I’m going to keep working on the story with your notes in mind, but I also think I’m going to find another beta-reader to take a look.”

Then say either:

“I am looking for more notes about [specific issue]/Less squeeing, and more constructive feedback on things that need change, and I think getting a second pair of eyes for that kind of thing will be helpful for me.”

“I think we’ve got a disconnect on what this story is about, and I want to make sure that this isn’t because I wrote my idea poorly, but because we’re on different wavelengths.”

And finish with

“Thanks again!”

The above scripts can also be used and adapted for the final two issues you may encounter in which a beta-reader leaves notes that are, quite frankly, mean and dispirited, or if you have other personality conflicts or disagreements outside of the fic. But just like I said to beta-readers who might have conflicts with their writers, you do not owe an explanation to someone who has harmed or offended you, and “Thank you for the work you’ve done, I think I’m going to find someone else to also take a look” and then walking away from the conversation is a totally valid way to handle the situation—even if it is terrifying. And if they fight back, block them. It’s the internet. You can do that.

“Should I credit them if I had to block them?”

Ugh. Great question. Did you use any of their suggestions? If not—don’t bother. If you did—bleh. I work in the entertainment industry, so I am a big proponent of credit given where credit is due. And in this case, they did do some work for you, presumably for free, for a fanfiction. You should at least say their name. But if someone seriously got gross at you (and I have never heard of this happening and hope I never do), set those boundaries and move on with your life. Especially if it’s free fanfiction. I won’t be upset with you.

As far as taking your fic actually away from them—in writing this I realized it may be helpful to do a primer about Google Docs but change your sharing settings on the doc! Or delete that doc and start a new if it’s possible with a fresh link. If you didn’t just send them a file, there’s ways to make sure they can’t get into your fic again without your permission or until it’s posted. So, take those steps.

Breaking up with a beta reader or a writer can be pretty complicated, so feel free to reach out with your questions if you have them!

#HK's Beta Reading Tips #editing #beta reading #beta reader #writing advice #writing tools #long post #fanfiction #fanfic

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