#and graduate comfortably in four years with honors in the major. this is ignoring how i’m failing my classes. i promise i won’t be forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ackerfics · 1 year

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rory, since you write the sweetest, most fluffy and down to earth renditions of college levi... how would levi react to the first time you ever waited outside of his class for him and greeted him (much to his surprise) after his lecture finished? (ig in this, they give off more friend energy, perhaps nearly at the point of becoming best friends?)

omg thank you so much, love <3 here's a drabble for you to enjoy mwa

levi is tired, point-blank exhausted with anything related to his university. and it has only been the second semester of his freshman year.

all of this monotonous schedule of waking up, studying, attending lectures, passing reports, answering exams, and just being inside paradis university sucks the living hell out of levi's soul. he's not someone who's that stressed often but now that he's feeling it, he's starting to understand the overly-friendly seniors who told him and his classmates about the intense requirements of their major. at first, he thought he could carry all the load but he's starting to think that he's just human like everyone else. not to mention that he has to do good every single semester for the sake of giving his mother a comfortable life after he graduates. maybe as he progresses through the remaining years in uni, all of this will alleviate and will make room for him to say fuck it. but seeing as he's still a freshman, levi has no choice but to suck it all up and make sure he passes the second semester as an honors student.

while getting out of a four-hour lecture on how compounds react with each other, levi sluggishly walks with his head never looking down despite how tired he is, the sky now a myriad of purples and red. he ignores some of the passing people taking a second glance at him. usually, he glares them off but now he has no energy to. again, he's not in the right headspace to interpret how some of the students in his year level find him attractive. he'll mind that on another day. now, all he wants is to get that tall cup of his usual tea order from his frequented cafe, possibly buy some take-out because he has no urge to cook his food tonight, and just sleep in.

he opens his phone for his schedule tomorrow, checking if there's going to be any vacant period in the morning. levi huffs when he finds there's none, pocketing his phone before looking up.

there you are, waving at him with that radiant smile on your face.

levi's eyes slightly widen at the surprising development.

you're a part of the same friend group he sometimes hangs out with. being best friends with the insane biology major (in his words), you're also a face he mostly sees at random times of the day, courtesy of the said insane biology major who drags you to wherever place they want. because of that mutual friend, you two start talking with each other in passing. these talks evolve into getting to know each other until the both of you can say that you're friends. the times levi meets up with the group and you're there, he seems to gravitate toward you. you don't boisterously ask people questions or sniff people at the first meeting or even interrogate them with wide eyes and a snake-like grin. levi surmises that you're the only normal one in this crazy band of misfits.

levi's heart skips a beat, finding you in a different light while you're standing there so effortlessly pretty.

maybe it's the fact that this is the first time you waited for him when he has classes or maybe it's because he's always wishing you'd do this to him (on nights when he has nothing to finish, you're the last thought he has before he falls asleep). it's embarrassing -- something that he keeps to himself for fear that hange or mike might tease the hell out of him and he has no choice but to throttle them to the ground.

the rapid beating inside his chest turns into something so fluttering, rushing to his face when he notices that you have a tall cup of drink in your hand, the logo of the cafe he prefers acting like a beacon.

"levi!" you call for him once he's a couple of feet from you. "how was class?" you naturally ask him, as if this has been going on for a while now.

levi blinks, schooling his face to cool down. "fine. it's fucking tiring." the moment he reaches you, his shoulders relax and the exhaustion from everything melts away. you have that effect on him. he likes that only he knows about it.

you hum, pursing your lips. you then perk up, lifting the tall cup of something warm in your hand. "here's something to cheer you up. your usual order from the brew."

he takes the cup from you. "thanks," he murmurs under his breath. he can't help but let out a contented sigh at the familiar flavor on his palate. levi furrows his eyebrows, looking at you with a slight sheen of concern in his eyes. "i thought your lectures finished about two hours ago?"

"don't worry about it," you wave off. "i stayed in the library closest to your building to finish some of my work and revisions. trust me when i say that staying here is more productive for me rather than going back home to my dorm room. you also know that i'm willing to wait for you no matter what time of the day it is."

levi hides his burning cheeks by taking a sip of his drink. he doesn't say anything. but that's the thing, he wants to say all these unexplained emotions he's feeling for you but instead, he softly flicks your forehead with his free hand's forefinger and thumb, afraid that he might scare you away. you two have been friends for only six months anyway.

"hey!"

he scoffs, almost a laugh. he wordlessly slides the straps of your tote bag from your shoulder and wears them on his. "let's go?" he says while walking away.

"levi, i waited for you and you're just going to walk away first?"

"walk faster then." he hears you huff and lighter footsteps follow him until you're right next to him. one corner of his lips lift in a half-smile while side-eyeing you pouting at the fact that he's being rude again. all those musings of being tired and suddenly levi feel invigorated to tell you with an unreadable face, "hey, how about we eat dinner in that resto you like? the one with thai food."

you curiously peer at him from underneath your eyelashes. "aren't you tired? we can have dinner on a different night, levi. you deserve the rest with all your workload, you know."

levi hums. "and i'm not tired now."

"are you sure?"

he glances at you from the corner of his eyes. lifting a hand, he pokes your forehead, earning him a whine from you. "i already told you i'm not tired. hurry up and stop gawking at me. i might leave you behind for good this time."

with your flustered stuttering in the background, levi naturally smiles for the first time this week. maybe rest can be a person after all.

#— rory's passages 🌼#— lovely anons 🌸#— here's a flower for you 🌼#— messages that i keep in a jar 🌻#this is something i came up with in a rush so pls forgive me <33 #all my unfulfilled wishes in uni keep popping up in my writing TT #i want someone to pick me up after class too :< or someone i can wait for :<#levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader

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lonelyreputation · 3 years

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2021 (AU)

A/N: Got a bit wine tipsy & wrote a teeny story! It’s a bit different from what I’ve written before, so I hope you all enjoy!! Would love to hear your thoughts!! Was thinking of making it a little series, so!!! Happy 2021! I hope this year (so far) has been kind to you ! 💥💞

Prompt: One-sided enemies to lovers (kinda) & No dialogue

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: One swear word // WC: 2.6K // Angst & Fluff

He stared at you.

No, he glowered at you.

He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you anymore. He’s been with you for as long as he could remember; from elementary school, middle school, high school…He was always a shadow in the room whenever you were in it. Always had been. Always will be.

His earliest memories included you scoring the top grades in school, teacher’s favorite student, handed in every assignment early, and you would always be picked first for a team in recess and gym class. He always resented you more for the latter. Ever since his best friend, Brian, picked you first for his kickball team in elementary school and not him…He ripped the title of best friend away from Brian.

Shawn Mendes hated you.

And he was fairly certain that you reciprocated the same feelings of hatred towards him.

In high school, Shawn studied day and night, turning down countless offers to parties because he was determined to receive the valedictorian title. Looking back on it now, five years since the high school became his alma mater, Shawn was still hung up over the fact that you stole his position of the highest education honor in high school.

He had the perfect farewell speech prepared for graduation. It was the perfect blend of a look how far we’ve come since freshman year speech and a see you later speech. Shawn was fairly close to the dean of student’s secretary and they may have tipped him off that he––more than likely––would be the valedictorian. So, his mother already had a copy of the speech framed and hung in the family room, next to his senior portraits, before the school year even ended.

Shawn finished the year with an exceptional GPA of 4.7.

But you…You finished the year with a slightly higher GPA of 4.8.

The feeling Shawn felt in the pit of his stomach was hard to pinpoint when he found out he was not valedictorian. Enraged didn’t feel like a strong enough feeling. Frustrated seemed like an adjective too soft to describe his disappointment. But the one feeling he could trace back as the reason for his clenched fists, locked jaw, and blinding vision of rage was resentment.

He remembers when the school sent out a congratulatory email to the top 10% of the graduating class. He expected to see Shawn Mendes as the name written on the top of the list. But instead, he saw your name on the top line, and his name at #2.

Shawn had even planned for his graduation party to be on the same day that the valedictorian announcement was made. He wanted to celebrate his achievements with his family and friends because he expected to have the title. He stayed up in his room for nearly an hour at his own graduation party to calm down his rage.

Maybe if he pushed himself a little harder, then maybe he would’ve beaten you out for the top spot.

Shawn Mendes detested you.

After all the years he spent with you––all the way from elementary to high school––he finally felt free after he was handed his high school diploma and shook the principal’s hand. He was leaving the small town of Pickering and attending university in Toronto where he would never have to see you again.

But Shawn wasn’t that lucky.

Because during an orientation session, a week before the first day of classes, he saw you walk on campus with your own orientation group. No amount of breathing exercises could calm him down. All he saw was red. And worst of all, you caught his blatant glare and offered him a small wave.

He ignored you, turned his head back to his group, and tried to engage in the ice breaker conversation.

Luckily, he only saw you a handful of times a semester. He had a different major than you; and always let out a sigh of relief when he walked into a general education class and saw you nowhere in attendance. It would’ve been ideal if he didn’t have to spend another four years with you, but he didn’t see you as much as he did in high school.

Until it came to senior year when you two both landed an internship at the same company.

Shawn thought he was in his own personal hell when he saw you in the lobby, on the first day, chatting with the other interns. He didn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve this kind of torture, but he would repent for the rest of his life to make sure it didn’t happen again. Thankfully, he was interning in a different department than you. But word somehow always got back to him about how wonderful every supervisor thought you were.

When he finally received his university diploma, that was the day he felt truly free. He was done with school, done with his internship––Done with you. He drank a little too much in celebration that night. He drank to never having to see you again and drank to celebrate the job offer his internship offered him.

He didn’t have to worry about either you or trying to find a job as a new university graduate.

So when he showed up to the place where he was now an employee––dressed in a new suit––his smile disappeared when he walked out of the elevator and saw you. He tripped over his own two feet, spilling some coffee on his coat.

Shawn, I’d like you to meet the other new hire––I believe you interned with her.

In the lobby of his first job was where he silently apologized to any God he had ever offended. If this was punishment for missing Church for the past seven years, he begged for forgiveness. If this was punishment for getting into a fight during one of his hockey games, he begged for forgiveness. He begged for forgiveness, but he didn't think he’d be pardoned any time soon.

Because in his new office space, at his first real job, he was only three desks away from you.

/ / /

You stared at him.

No, you gazed at him.

You absolutely loved being in the same room as him. You’ve been with him for as long as you could remember, and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. From elementary school all the way through the wonderful years of high school. You always saw yourself as being academically equally to him. Although admittedly, you thought he was better than you.

A memory with him that was stuck in your mind was one from elementary school; you were nine and it was gym class. Brian had enlightened you that Shawn liked girls who could run fast. And after learning that bit of information, you convinced Brian to pick you first so that way Shawn would notice how fast you could run. So, Brian picked you to be on his team first…Not Shawn.

But after that day, Shawn stopped talking to Brian. And Brian came crying to your nine-year-old self while you were at the arts and crafts table saying that Shawn was ignoring him.

You had a little crush on Shawn Mendes.

But you weren’t all that positive that Shawn reciprocated those same feelings of giddiness you felt whenever you saw him on the playground.

In your eyes, you were one and the same with ambitions. School never came easy to you; so, studying for absolutely every subject was a chore. But you knew how smart he was, and you wanted him to think you were smart too. Along with studying, you buttered up to the teachers so that they would give you the benefit of the doubt and round that A grade––that was nearly an A+––to be an A+.

You knew he used similar tactics, but he wasn’t as obvious as you.

While you made studying a priority in high school, one of your friends mentioned that Shawn liked outgoing girls. So, you turned down some study sessions, and went out on either Friday or Saturday nights––sometimes both––in hopes you could strike up a conversation with Shawn. But you rarely saw him at the parties you attended.

And even five years after you graduated highschool, you were still hung up about not spotting him at more parties.

You had all the right words to say if you ever bumped into Shawn at a party. You had it all prepared, and even went as far as practicing in front of a mirror more times than necessary. Stored away in your mind was an endless list of topics you could talk to him about. You knew he played hockey, so you made a note to ask him about his games. And you were tipped off by a friend that Shawn liked when people complimented his ability to play guitar.

Granted, you had never heard him play guitar, but you were still prepared to praise him. You would’ve felt proud of yourself for stepping out of your comfort zone to talk to the boy who made you shiver with a pleasant bundle of nerves.

Shawn was a smart person. If you remembered correctly, he was the smartest person in school. You always admired his ability to keep up with his course load, play hockey, and balance out a well-planned social life. A little bird flying around the halls whispered that Shawn found smart and well-driven girls attractive. So you worked harder than you ever had in your life to miraculously pull your grades up higher.

You finished with a well deserved 4.8 GPA.

Shawn finished with an admirable GPA of 4.7.

Ecstatic didn’t feel like the proper word to describe how happy you were. Relief seemed like an adjective that was fairly representative of how gratifying it was to read that email. But one feeling you could trace back as the reason for your blinding smile, infectious high-spirited mood, and rose colored vision was how proud you felt.

Because the information in that email confirmed that you and Shawn were academic equals. And you knew how much he valued education.

You spent nearly an hour in your room––at your own graduation party––to write in your journal about how amazed you were with Shawn’s intelligence. Tucked away in a shoe box, your high school journal was still under your childhood bed with that entry.

You were in love with Shawn Mendes.

After your years in school together came to a bittersweet end, you felt slightly deflated when you received your high school diploma. It was your final parting place with him. You didn’t know what his plans were after high school––Always too nervous to make small talk with him. You were leaving the small town of Pickering and facing your fears of living in a big city and attending university in Toronto. You thought you would never see him again.

But you were lucky.

Because during orientation week, you were walking back from coffee with some new friends, when you saw him. You felt your breath get caught in your throat when you saw him sitting on the lawn with his orientation group. All you saw was a familiar rose color when you caught his stare. With a deep breath, and a little pep talk in your head, you offered him a small wave.

Instead of waving back at a familiar face, he turned his head back to his orientation group. You felt a little sad, but you brushed it off thinking he didn’t see you. One of your friends saw you wave at him, and they excitedly took hold of your wrist, and whispered; is that him?

Unfortunately, you only saw him a few times a semester. You figured he had a different major than you; but you always held your breath in anticipation when you walked into a general education class. But when the professor started class, and he didn’t rush in late through the doors, you always let out a disappointed sigh.

You accepted the fact that you and Shawn were no more than people who had grown up in the same town and went to school together. The past was in the past, and you were trying to move on as you filled out multiple internship applications.

Until it came to your senior year when you two both landed an internship at the same company.

You thought you were in your personal paradise when you saw him walk into the lobby, on the first day, that you stopped talking with the other interns. You didn’t know what you did in a past life to deserve this positive karma, but you would keep up whatever good deeds you were doing. Unfortunately, he was interning in a different department than you.

But even as you worked in a different area of the office, you always heard words of praise about him from multiple supervisors. And you always reiterated how diligent of a worker he had been since high school. You even tried your best to try and go on a coffee run with him, just to see him for a little bit, but those plans were never successful.

You dreaded the day when it came to receive your university diploma; that would be the actual day where your thin ties with Shawn would be officially cut. And then you would have to wait for either high school or university reunions just to get a glimpse of him. You were done with school, done with your internship––Done with him.

You had a quiet celebration with your family, opting to go out to a nice dinner instead of having a blow out party. You only drank a little champagne to celebrate the night. You sipped to all of your academic accomplishments, sipped to celebrate the job your internship offered you, and sipped in sadness as regret filled your body.

Because even after having four more additional years of school and an internship with him, you were still too nervous to talk to him.

But when you were in the lobby talking with the head of Human Resources, the ding of the elevator caused you to turn your head. You didn’t think the smile on your face could shine any brighter. You thought he looked really nice in the suit he was wearing, and he seemed just as surprised to see you when he stepped out of the elevator. He tripped over his own two feet, some coffee spilling over the lid.

Shawn, I’d like you to meet the other new hire––I believe you interned with her.

Not only had you interred with him before; you also grew up a few streets away from him, went to elementary school, middle school, high school, and university together.

In the lobby of your first real job was where you silently thanked any God up in the sky that answered your prayers.

If this was a reward for all of the nights you spent crying over sophomore year biology, you thanked your lucky stars. If this was a reward for the one time you went to one of his hockey games, and got a bag of ice for the athletic trainer when Shawn got hurt, you thanked your lucky stars. You thanked your lucky stars because you didn’t think you would be given a third chance to see Shawn any time soon.

Because in your new office, at your first real job, you were only three desks away from him.

tag list (add / remove yourself!): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @alina--jpeg, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @badreputatiom, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandpucks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer @determined-overthinker @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r, @perfectlywrongsm @lovelysunset1 @samaratheweirdo @sarcasticallywitty15 @repostcentral

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yukipri · 4 years

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On Thatch & Marco - A One Piece Mermaid AU Text Headcanon/Story

So I’ve gotten quite a few asks regarding Marco and the Whitebeards, and while this isn’t a response to a specific ask, here’s a little story on them!

It's only been a few weeks since they've left Dawn Island, and they're still in East Blue but they've somehow already more than doubled the number of brats on board. And while the Moby Dick is far from boring, Thatch has had more adventures in this short timespan than he's had in years, and he's thriving.

Sure, he still feels little twinges of guilt for basically ditching his duties, but he's growing, in ways that the stability of an established Yonko crew hadn't allowed, and he knows that he'll be a better, more useful man to Pops and the others by the time they've caught up in the New World. Honestly, he's wondering if he should suggest these kinds of experiences for all the commanders, and wonders how Pops would feel about that.

But it's on one of these days and brief moments of calm when Thatch is daydreaming about his family in the New World when he spots a blue seagull circling far above them. It's weirdly shiny, and Thatch immediately recognizes it as a species native to an island in Pops' territory, and one that is unusual all the way here in East Blue.

Which means only one thing: Marco's checking in.

A quiet whistle from Thatch is all it takes for the seagull to come spiraling down, and Thatch remembers to take a quick glance around deck to make sure Luffy hasn't spotted it; he's learned the hard way what it means for a bird to land on deck when the ever-hungry mermaid is feeling a bit peckish.

But the bird lands safely on the rail close to Thatch's arm. It's by no means nearly as brilliant a blue as Marco, but certainly more beautiful than most birds you can find out at sea. Thatch still remembers the first time he found Marco making friends with the things, remembers laughing hysterically and making all sorts of bird jokes as Marco, then still a teen, looked more and more like the constipated old man he eventually grows up to be.

Well, jokes aside, the birds are now incredibly useful, serving as Marco's personal messengers to their allies across the world. Which, huh, Thatch supposes that includes him now, which is kind of an odd feeling.

And while Thatch wants to feel flattered that Marco's checking up on his favorite Thatch, he also knows that Marco's checking up on their littlest little brother, and the little brother of that little brother (baby brother^2, Thatch and Marco had fondly dubbed her, when Ace first told them about her). Because while Thatch's definitely accompanying Ace and co for his own selfish reasons (and he also swears it's not just so he could encounter the love of his life, darling Luffy), he also knows that Marco and Pops had ulterior motives for letting Thatch go, beyond just allowing Thatch to stretch his legs.

When Ace had asked, uncharacteristically shy, if he could still be one of Whitebeard's sons without formally joining his crew, and when Whitebeard responded with an affirmative--Thatch wonders if Ace really understands what that meant. A good parent, a good father is definitely a foreign concept to him (and unfortunately for Luffy too, Thatch has found, and knows that Pops will adopt her the moment he meets her if he hasn't already). And the Whitebeard pirates don't take the bonds of family lightly.

So while yes, Thatch is here for his own adventures, he's also very aware of what he represents, both to his family and to the world. For his family, his presence on board maintains the connection between the Whitebeards and Ace. Ace is still so very new to their family, and while no one doubts his competence, he still has much to go in terms of learning to rely on them, on learning that the Whitebeard pirates will ALWAYS have his back. And well, East Blue is kinda far away, too far for a shout to be heard on the Moby. So Thatch is here acting as their representative, and he couldn't be more honored to have the role. He is, if nothing else, excellent at being a nagging older brother, and it's the role he's easily found himself fitting into here.

But the other reason is that Thatch is the Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeards, and no one who knows anything about pirates would fail to recognize him, and the weight of his presence. He knows people won't immediately make the connection that this crew has already been adopted, or even what that means because it's not quite the same as ally, but Thatch's presence establishes an undeniable connection between them and one of the Four Emperors. Thatch knows that when he makes eye contact with the marines and they balk, it's not just him they see: it's the huge, looming shadow of Whitebeard himself. And until the world learns to see that shadow behind Ace, behind all of the ASL pirates, well, Thatch will stay right here.

The blue gull on the rail looks at Thatch expectantly, and Thatch lets it perch on his shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen. Sanji glances up in surprise and squints at the bird, but doesn't say anything as he returns to preparing dessert for the ladies (it's a reminder that Thatch should be doing that too, or else the snot-nosed cook will one up him in earning the favor of Luffy, or at least her stomach). Thatch decides to make this quick, and grabs two cookies from the hidden cookie jar, as well as some parchment and a writing utensil.

Thatch knows Marco wants to know how they're doing, but well, the timing of the gull is awfully convenient, so he's taking advantage.

Dear Blue Chicken Sauteed in Pineapple Sauce, Thatch writes, taking advantage of the opportunity to write in "code," despite the lack of confidential information and low risk of one of Marco's blue gulls being stopped. He'll take every opportunity to tease, thank you.

The stove on this ship works great, and the fish is beautiful. Thatch's pen moves before he really thinks about what's coming out. She's stolen my heart, I think I want to marry her. Thatch pauses...huh, well, honestly he's not exaggerating, is he? He'll let Marco guess how serious he is. (he's suddenly uncomfortable because he's not sure how serious he is himself, but that's a thought for another time)

And now, the most important part of the letter: PS - I dropped my hair wax in the ocean. Can you send me an extra from my room?

Because, tragically, Thatch had--and now his beautiful pompadour is a sad mess that's tumbling down his shoulders. Thatch knows he could pick up another tub of hair wax on any of the islands they’ve stopped at, but he has standards, and he needs his special wax that he’s used for decades, which is unfortunately only found in the New World.

Which makes his current situation stuck in East Blue quite tragic, except it isn't quite as heart-breaking as Thatch had thought it'd be, once he realized how much Luffy likes playing with his loose locks, and the sheer number of times Thatch has been finding himself overboard recently would have made putting his hair up again after every time a pain--but well. It'd still be nice to have the familiar weight of his hair wax in his pocket again.

Thatch decides to omit the major change with himself since he last saw Marco that resulted in the hair wax being lost in the first place: the fact that he's eaten a devil fruit. Because that's a surprise. Thatch wants to see Marco's face when he realizes how badass Thatch has become, controlling Darkness of all things. (well, Thatch has to actually get good at it first, and stop almost drowning. It's coming along)

Thatch wraps one cookie in the letter, tying it into a neat parcel, and feeds the other to the bird as thanks for his services. The bird takes off as soon as Thatch opens the door.

Well, now Thatch has a lovely mermaid to feed, and a baby cook to outclass.

Thatch sees the next blue gull a week later, damn those things are fast. It's carrying a parcel this time, and Thatch reaches out gleefully, because he doesn't remember the last time he's had his hair down for this long and he can't wait to have his signature hair style once more.

The bird doesn't stick around this time, and instead just drops the parcel into Thatch's hands before wheeling back the way it came.

And...huh. The parcel's not the right size, or weight to be Thatch's hair wax.

Thatch squints suspiciously, as Ace comes to stand by him, staring after the gull. "Marco?" he asks, and Thatch grunts, already feeling grumpy and just knowing he's not gonna be thrilled by whatever Marco sent.

He opens the parcel, and inside is a little blue bauble, wrapped in Marco's infuriatingly precise, fancy shmancy handwriting.

Dear Soggy Bread, congratulations on graduating from a baguette. May you evolve into a better bread next time. PS - The stone's for baby brother^2.

Ace ignores Thatch's enraged yowl and plucks up the stone--before cursing and dropping it. Thatch's reflexes manage to catch it before it hits the deck--and he immediately knows why Ace dropped it in the first place.

The stone immediately feels weird, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that distinctively reminds Thatch of the sea. He's familiar with what the stone is, but not how it feels, and is reminded once again of his relatively new status as a devil fruit user. At Ace's questioning (and wary) look, Thatch explains, as a good older brother should.

It's a special stone made on Fishman island. There's a piece of seastone at its core, and then it's wrapped in a mix of glass and crystal. It's a luxury trinket popular with a lot of young mermaids, because it's pretty, but also feels like the essence of the ocean is in it, which can be immensely comforting to most merfolk and fishmen.

While not the purpose, the glass and crystal casing also ensures that devil fruit users can touch it without feeling weakened, though they can still sense the sea from it, hence why it feels weird.

Thatch hates, hates to admit it, but it's a ridiculously thoughtful (and expensive) gift for a mermaid devil fruit user who can't enjoy the sea directly, damn Marco for thinking of it first! The bastard's definitely teasing Thatch by trying to woo his crush from half a world away. Marco hasn't even met her, this is just a game to him, but Thatch's serious, damnit!!!

Thatch wishes he could be petty enough to lie and say the bauble is a gift from Thatch, but he can't, because as much of an asshole as Marco can be, Thatch still loves him. Sigh.

Luffy chooses that moment to slide across the deck to them like a playful sea lion, slamming into Ace's legs and snaking up him in a split second to peer over his shoulder at whatever her brother's looking at in Thatch's hand. Ace isn't fazed and doesn't even twitch.

Thatch sighs dramatically. Adorable little brothers and their adorable little brother^2s, damnit.

Thatch dutifully presents the little stone to Luffy, as Ace warns her not to drop it, it's gonna feel a bit weird ok. Thatch lets Ace take over rattling off the information he'd just conveyed, doing his own duty as Older Brother, and is instead transfixed by the way Luffy's eyes widen in wonder as she rolls the shiny thing from one hand to the other.

While Luffy's not really the type for jewelry or trinkets, it's clear she's enthralled by the stone, the way she is with few inanimate objects other than food. Thatch belatedly notices that the stone's a brilliant crystal teal, with shards of gold obscuring the dark seastone center, the same color as someone's Zoan form. Bastard.

"Who's it from?" Luffy asks, and Thatch knows he's told her about his crew before, but she's unlikely to have remembered any names.

He may not lie about who the gift's from, but it doesn't mean he can't take revenge.

"A pineapple man who can turn into a burning chicken," he says with a straight face, ignoring Ace's frantic gestures to abort.

Thatch finds out why moments later, as Luffy's eyes widen impossibly more, and he belatedly realizes that to Luffy (and probably only Luffy), he'd just made Marco sound like the coolest person on earth.

Thatch meets Ace's furious eyes apologetically even as Luffy's COOOOOL!!!!!! rips across deck, and they both sigh.

They're not looking forward to Luffy meeting Marco

Hope you enjoyed! As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and encourage me to create more for this AU! ^ ^

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 2

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

#One Piece Mermaid AU #Whitebeard Pirates #Thatch #Marco #ThatchLu #MarLu #YukiPri rambles #genderbend #text headcanon #except it's honestly more of a short fic this time #is 2K a short fic idk #long post #longpost #Ace: all you needed to say was 'it's from an old dude with funny hair' and Luffy woulda forgotten about him in an instant!#but now she's excited and won't think about anything else!#Next she'll say she's always wanted a burning chicken on the crew!

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lillianawayne99 · 3 years

Text

CastAway Chapter 4

Pairing: Gojo, Itadori, Sukuna, Nanami X OC

Genre: Action Romance

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Teacher-Student relationship, canon with a twist, reverse harem, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, major character death, smut chapters will have specific warnings

Synopsis: Calliope, a wolf in sheep's clothing, enrolls at Jujutsu Tech to protect herself from a world she's never seen before. In her efforts to stay alive, she finds relationships that could mend her soul or tear her apart.

[Characters are 18+]

Previous Chapter // CastAway // Masterlist

“This is really deep in the mountains!” Itadori exclaimed as we walked up the long driveway leading to the school.

“Even Tokyo is like this in the outskirts.” Gojo clarified.

I was starting to feel a strange sensation like someone running a finger along my skin, only it was inside my head. It reminded me of when someone tried to get inside my head, but there’s usually more force behind it. As far as I knew, no one in this world had telepathic capabilities. Except . . . could it be Sukuna? He’s technically communicating to Itadori through telepathy, can he contact anyone that way? It’s a difficult ability for humans to learn, but I mastered it easily once I knew I was capable of it.

“Where’s Fushiguro?” Itadori was starting to remind me of Gojo. They were always asking questions and would not shut up.

“He’s been treated by a sorcerer, and now he’s fast asleep. Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High School. It’s one of only two jujutsu educational facilities. On the surface, it’s known as a private religious school. Many jujutsu sorcerers continue to use it as a base after graduation, so it’s a pillar of the jujutsu community, not just in education, but for support and mediation in missions. Anyway, you’re about to have an interview with the principal.” We were standing in a courtyard surrounded by gorgeous buildings when Gojo finished explaining everything to us.

“The principal?” Itadori sounded scared. Poor thing.

“Screw it up and he could reject your admission, so go all-out.” Gojo was just as casual and flippant as normal.

“Huh?! And what then? Immediate execution?!" Itadori exclaimed.

“What? So you’re not the boss? Any hierarchy other than strength is worthless.” Sukuna criticized the self proclaimed strongest sorcerer alive.

“Sorry, sensei. He pops out sometimes.” Itadori apologized after smacking his cheek while I felt someone brushing against my mental barriers again, this time with more pressure.

“What an amusing body you have now.” Gojo stopped walking and turned to look at Itadori, holding his chin as he thought about the implications of Itadori being Sukuna’s vessel.

“I owe you a favor, you know. Once I make this brat’s body my own, you’ll be the first one I kill!” Sukuna’s mouth popped up on the back of Itadori’s hand, prompting the boy to cover it.

“It’s an honor to be targeted by Sukuna.” Gojo sounded amused about the idea of Sukuna trying to kill him.

“This guy’s really that famous?” Itadori asked in bewilderment.

“Ryoumen Sukuna is a fierce imaginary god with four arms and two faces.” When Gojo called Sukuna an imaginary god, I scoffed given we both knew gods were real. He glanced at me then continued walking into the school as he finished talking. “But he’s actually a human that really existed, though that was over a thousand years ago. In the golden age of jujutsu, sorcerers gathered up all their might to challenge him and failed. Crowned with the title of Sukuna, we couldn’t even destroy his grave wax as he traversed the ages after death as a cursed object. Without a doubt, he is the king of curses.”

“Who’s stronger, you or him?” Itadori’s question was directed at Gojo.

“Well . . . if Sukuna regained all of his power, it might be a little draining.” Gojo must either be the strongest sorcerer alive like he claims to be, or hubris is clouding his judgement.

“Would you lose?” Itadori was so ignorant I wondered how he made it this far in his life.

“I’d win.” Gojo responded with the same causal confidence he usually exudes.

After Gojo answered Itadori’s questions, we walked up a flight of stairs that led to the temple where the principal was waiting for us. It was dimly lit by several candles sat within the wooden posts holding up the roof. Principal Yaga was sitting at the back of the room surrounded by several dolls and sewing another.

“You’re late, Satoru. Eight minutes late. Not enough to chastise you for, but I know I told you to fix your habit of being late.” Principal Yaga’s words and tone didn’t match. I would’ve expected him to sound angrier.

“If it’s not enough to chastise me for, then don’t chastise me. You’re just making dolls, anyway. What’s a measly eight minutes?” Gojo kept his tone apathetic, but that didn’t change the fact he was being disrespectful towards his boss.

“Rude.” I pretended to cough the word out and glanced over to see Gojo side-eying me through the blindfold.

“That’s Principal Yaga Masamichi.” Gojo clarified.

“That’s the boy and girl?” The less than impressed principal asked.

“Itadori Yuji! I’m into girls like Jennifer Lawrence! Pleasure to meet you!” Itadori exclaimed while he bowed in respect. I rolled my eyes at his declaration, but decided to play along with it for fun.

“Davis Calliope.” I introduced myself calmly with a respectful bow, keeping my head down as I finished speaking to hide the flush in my cheeks. “My type is someone who will put me in my place.”

“What did you come here for?” The older man directed the question at Itadori while holding the small doll he was working on.

“An interview.” Itadori responded as if Principal Yaga wasn’t currently interviewing him.

“But why Jujutsu Tech?” The dark haired man tried to push Itadori in the direction he wanted.

“To learn jujutsu?” I rolled my eyes at Itadori's cluelessness, again.

“I mean beyond that. What do you hope to find once you’ve studied curses and learned how to exorcise them?” Principal Yaga continued his interrogation. If Itadori had just said what the man wanted in the first place then this could have gone so much faster.

“Well, I mean . . . I’m going to collect the fingers of Sukuna. It’s dangerous to leave them as is.” Itadori started by pointing at the fingers on one hand, then proceeded to hold his hands up and wiggle his fingers.

“Why? People you’ll never know die every day due to crimes, accidents, and diseases in the natural course of life.” Yaga elaborated, trying to show Itadori the dedication needed to be a jujutsu sorcerer.

“Here he goes again.” Gojo retorted so only Itadori and I could hear, though his head was turned as if he was directing it at me.

While the man surrounded by dolls continued trying to educate Itadori, I focused my energy on figuring out who was trying to get inside my head. I mentally reached out towards Itadori, immediately feeling the difference between him and Sukuna. Itadori was solemn from the loss of his grandfather and resolute in his decision. Sukuna felt malicious, cunning, and powerful.

“But you’re telling me that you can’t overlook it when that death is caused by a curse?” Principal Yaga continued, trying to prompt Itadori to reach a deeper understanding of what he was getting himself into.

“It was someone’s dying wish. I don’t care about the details. I just want to save people.” Itadori responded. I wasn’t surprised the principal was unsatisfied with his answer. There were several other careers Itadori could follow if all he wanted was to save people.

“A dying wish? So you’re saying you’ll fight against curses because someone else told you to? You fail.” Principal Yaga nearly mocked Itadori. He then turned his attention to me. “Satoru tells me you aren’t human. Why are you here?”

“Being a jujutsu sorcerer sounds like it would be fun. I want to help people, but my . . . talents are primarily limited to violence. I could join the police force, but that would be a waste because I would be stuck behind a desk most of the time. I could become a vigilante, but I don’t want to be constantly avoiding the authorities. I have a high pain tolerance, gore doesn’t bother me, and I want to be out in the field, fighting. Becoming a jujutsu sorcerer is the best career choice for me.” I told the truth, minus my true intentions.

Better the devil you know than the one you don’t. I might not be able to exorcise curses since I’ve never attempted to use cursed energy, but I could use cursed objects to fight. I’ve trained extensively with several weapons, similar cursed objects wouldn’t be difficult to work with.

“What are you capable of?” Principal Yaga asked the same damn question as Gojo.

I didn’t know whether or not these people were trustworthy, but they were all I had. Trust was earned not given, but I had to give some now if I wanted any in return. This was a risk I had to take.

“It’d be easier to show you.” I didn’t want to give too much away, but Principal Yaga was unrelenting until he got what he wanted. Fighting a cursed doll would be too easy, I needed to show him something of value that didn’t reveal too much.

He raised both of his hands and directed two of the dolls towards us. A green humanoid attacked Itadori while a white cat with blue eyes went after me. I ignored the explanation behind the dolls and solely focused on handling the one in front of me.

While the green doll punched Itadori through his bookbag and sent him flying, I casually reached out and caught the cat before it could hit me. I wrapped my arms around it’s legs and held it tightly to my body so it couldn’t escape. I could feel something ominous emanating from it and deduced that it was cursed energy. Looking down at the cat’s blue eyes while it hissed and scratched at me, I pulled the cursed energy into myself.

It felt odd to say the least. I felt a gradual increase in my power, but it wasn't much. The energy was similar to my own natural power, and yet distinctly different. My power was balanced. It had an equal amount of fear and joy, warmth and cold, life and death. This power was negative emotions. After absorbing it, the darker half of my power slightly outweighed the light.

Sukuna pushed harder on my walls than he had before. I’d had enough of trying to ignore his efforts since we arrived. He wasn’t going to get in, not even while I was asleep or in the middle of a fight. My fiery gaze snapped to the teen sitting on the ground with the green doll in his arms.

“Sukuna, would you stop trying to get inside my fucking head? If you want to talk to me, do it like a normal person and stop pushing on my FUCKING barriers!” The three men in the room turned to look at me in surprise at my outburst and the revelation I accidentally shared with them. I narrowed my brows at Itadori, looking past him to Sukuna and continued speaking to the curse using telepathy. ‘If you don’t want anyone else to hear, direct a thought at me. I’ll hear it.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do, maggot.’ Sukuna’s deep voice resonated in my head before he stopped poking at me.

“I’ll ask you once more. Why have you come to Jujutsu Tech?” Principal Yaga continued interrogating Itadori whose attention was previously on me while Gojo warily watched me from behind his blindfold.

“Consuming Sukuna is something only I can do. If I managed to escape my death sentence and ran away from this responsibility, I’d be there eating food, taking a bath, or reading manga, and for the moment I stopped to think, I’d go, ‘Oh, I bet someone’s dying because of Sukuna right now,’ and become depressed. ‘That doesn’t involve me. It’s not my fault.’ You expect me to just tell myself that? I refuse to do that. I don’t know how I’ll feel when I’m dying, but I don’t want to regret the way I lived!” Itadori finally reached the deeper level of understanding Principal Yaga was pushing him to.

“Davis. All you’ve shown me is that you can absorb cursed energy and seem to be telepathic. What are you capable of?” Principal Yaga was unimpressed with me, as I was expecting.

The candles were lit, so I adjusted my grip on the cursed doll I was holding. Keeping the doll secure with one arm, I lifted my right hand into the air and twisted it slightly. A gust of wind carried through the room, blowing out all the candles. I waited a couple seconds then snapped my fingers and relit the candles. Finally, I held my hand out with the palm facing up and fingers curled slightly and summoned five small spheres. Fire, water, earth, air, and spirit.

“I can do anything regarding the natural world.” I answered his question as I closed my hand into a fist, extinguishing the five spheres I summoned.

“Satoru. Show them to the dorm. Explain the security and everything else to them too.” It seemed my little show was enough for Principal Yaga to accept my admission to the school.

“Huh?” Itadori remarked, just as eloquently as ever.

“You pass. Welcome to Jujutsu Tech.” With the clarification that Itadori and I passed Principal Yaga’s test, Itadori let go of the doll he was holding and was suddenly punched in the face by it. “Oh, sorry. I forgot to release the curse.”

“Can I keep this? It’s kinda cute.” I asked the man who made the cursed corpses while Gojo and Itadori started to walk out of the temple.

“Fine.” He waved a hand at me in dismissal and sat back down among the other dolls.

Next Chapter

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #yuuji itadori fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #sukuna fanfic #lilliwrites #lilli writes #calliope davis #jjk reverse harem

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Stubborn Independence

TITLE: Stubborn Independence

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 1/10

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine Loki struggling to adjust to someone who is independent and insists on paying for themselves all the time, even if it is a struggle sometimes. They need to do everything on their own. They never ask for help and refuse help. Just imagine Loki really wanting to spoil this person. Imagine how creative he would get to make life easier on this person who has captivated him.

Imagine being a talented singer at your local club. Loki comes in one night with Thor and the others (he’d rather be anywhere else but who turns down free drinks?) and gets ensnared in the voice of the beautiful singer on stage. Suddenly, his interest (and arousal) are more than piqued.

Imagine getting into a petty fight with Loki, so in retaliation, he puts everything on the top shelf where you can’t reach?

AUTHOR’S NOTES: College AU. Loki is determined to take over Odin’s company. He works hard and has a strict schedule for success. However, with the interference of Thor and the other four, Loki’s plans are often interrupted so they can play matchmaker.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

~ ~ ENJOY ~ ~

Fandral smiled brightly with a loud laugh and in a desperate time to prove him wrong, Loki looked at his schedule with a smart remark on his tongue. Loki’s smile disappeared quickly. Damn. He did have the same class as Fandral.

Fandral smiled that bright smile and then winked to the side and Loki heard the high pitched giggles of flirting women, “Shall we walk together when classes start next week? Perhaps I could get you a date this year?”

With an eye roll and voice laced with sarcasm Loki replied, “yes because I want help from you."

Sif held her hand out to Loki for his schedule. Thor insisted earlier she could mark where everyone would be this semester for easy communication. So, unwillingly Loki handed it to her knowing he was sentencing himself to public outings instead of the comfort of his room with books. He pondered if he should get out of those outings or try to get out of his room. Perhaps he would meet someone, or a few people, to hang out with instead of his brother during meal times.

Thor clapped Loki’s back, "this is going to be the time of our lives. College is full of possibilities. Last year was such a great time for the five of us! There were plenty of people I met! Last year all you did in your free time was study. Lighten up Brother, and develop friendships.”

Siff spoke up after scribbling on schedules, “Or he could get the best grades, and the honors scholarship for extra money.” Sif gave Thor a raised eyebrow after he chuckled, then she shrugged going back to scribbling. She muttered, “graduate top class and make more money than you. Support himself and whoever stumbles into his life.”

Valstagg’s boisterous laughter caught everyone’s attention until his eyes darted in the direction of a food truck. He mumbled, “That would be quite the stumble for Loki to notice.”

Hogun’s lip twitches a smidge as he looked at the schedules with Siff and marking them. Loki’s schedule was back and he looked it over. He had the 8am class with Thor and knew the idiot would miss too much class from the way Thor groaned over a class first thing on a Monday. Loki had the damn extracurricular art class that Fandral was also in.

Loki was excited for art class because he practiced occasionally by drawing what he imagined a scene looked like from his leisure readings. Although Loki was terrible at drawing realistic details, nothing stopped him from trying. This class filled a block in his major which further helped him decide to pursue some knowledge for his little hobby. No one would ever see such things due to drawing being a secret… well, for now anyway. Fandral was likely to tell everyone of his poor skills once their shared classroom of a three hour long session two times a week.

Fandral inquired, “so…Sif are we going to come to your dorm room for lunch?”

Sif smirked, “the invitation goes to everyone but you.”

“How cruel to keep me away from the sight of your beautiful dorm mate.”

Loki turned as he claimed he would see them later. Loki strolled to the dinning hall. It was a typical day; annoying brother and his friends, people all around him talking animatedly with others, some more intimately touching with the hold of hands or lips locked together. Loki tore his gaze from those people and observed where he was, and why he was there and NOT for some romantic adventure.

The buildings seemingly new due to constant cleaning and repairs. The pathways that seemed to be expanding due to hurried people walking beside the sidewalk trying not to be late. His night owl of a brother for example was always in a rush and did not go with the pace of everyone else. Otherwise, the grass was perfectly manicured. There were areas for decorative flowers, bushes, as well as well placed trees.

Individuals gathered under trees seeking some comfort in the cooler shade. Loki glanced upwards to the sky that was currently cloudy. Then the sun shone thus pouring warmth onto him and momentarily blinding him.

Loki was sure he somehow ran into something but with a curse word flying out of someone’s mouth realization struck instantly this was not an object. Loki instinctively held his hands out to catch the person. Short hair in blended layers caught the sunlight in wonderful variations of browns. The hair seemed to flow slowly as Loki hastily pulled the person closer to prevent a fall. Warm leather in his hands that helped with the grasp. Once stabilized Loki glanced down and noticed the petite and plus size girl in his grasp.

Her eyes were shielded by huge sunglasses, her full cheeks framed by hair placed perfectly, except for a few strands dancing near her lips. A full lower lip pressed to her thin upper one as she pushed out of his grasp.

The trance seemed to end as Loki watched the girl pick up her phone. The glistening pieces around the device let Loki know instantly the screen was shattered. The woman ran her fingers through her hair and Loki was convinced that must be how her hair was supposed to be due to it looking better than before. Her eyebrows angled as she tapped on the phone and it seemed to be working.

Loki had money to replace her phone, even get his which was the newest model of over a thousand dollars. His parents had money due to his father, Odin, owning a software corporation that was supposed to be handed down to either Thor or Loki. Of course depending on who learned the most in college from their business majors. Loki actually had plenty of money he earned himself due to taking a position to work in his father’s business, a branch closest to the campus in an attempt to learn more. To inherit the corporation was the goal and was the reason he spent too much time in his room, practicing programming for his second major in computer science.

Loki quickly replied as soon as it registered, “I am sorry. I didn’t-”

The woman’s face turned to his with lightning speed and her lips parted with a harsh tone, “if you say you didn’t see me because I am short I will bring you down to my level with a punch to your gut.”

Loki blinked and finally noticed how short the woman was. He estimated a little over a foot smaller than himself due to him being able to rest his arm on her head easily, if he were to even attempt it. However with the fiery look he was getting, Loki stammered, “I can get you a new phone. Any phone you want.”

The woman was already tapping on her phone quickly as if sending a text. A few strands of her hair danced in her face but she seemed to ignore it. Loki however, needed to push back a single hair back in place to maintain his professional and clean appearance. Loki was not sure if she was ignoring him or not and he absentmindedly cleared his throat.

The dark haired woman placed her phone in a pocket, ran her other hand through her hair that parted in a different way..that was visually satisfactory as well. Her leather jacket protesting with sounds of attempts to stretch as she crossed her arms. Her eyebrows rose above her glasses and her bottom lip pressed to the thinner one. She seems to be annoyed, arguably she had every reason to have that right. She said nothing, nor did she make any attempt to even try to speak.

Loki wasn’t sure if this little ball of fire even heard a word he said. He spoke again as he took a small writing tablet from his inner coat pocket, “here is my information, we could meet later and you can pick out any phone you wish. There is a business not far from here that I work at-”

A casual, but with irritation mixed, voice spoke, “Not interested. I have the insurance on this one to have it replaced.”

Loki glanced up but did not see her. He turned and she was already walking away, quickly. Loki took long strides to her as he handed the woman the paper with his name, number, and location information to meet. The woman took the paper and seemed to be looking at it with a tilt of her head towards the paper but Loki already seen her eyelashes high up due to her obviously looking at the path she was on. The woman did nothing to stop her quick pace that Loki’s long legs easily kept up with.

As she crumpled up the paper and threw it in the recycling bin she spoke, “Thanks for the offer but I will pass.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed, “pardon?”

The small woman stopped as she replaced the sunglasses to her head. “Can you see now that I don’t want your help?”

Big eyes that were sharp and harsh with angled eyebrows. Eyelashes so thick they seemed to cast their own shadows among her face. Bright green eyes with flecks of dark brown and an inner iris of honey gold that stemmed into the outer green.

“You just cost me a ton of work to replace a dumbass phone. Nice work by the way to try to get me to call you. Clever plan, but it’s not something I fall for.”

“If you would let me help-”

The woman interrupted him, again with a scoff.

All Loki wanted to do was help her. Atleast to replace what he had broken. Everyone else would jump at the latest phone with the best camera and larger screen. Top notch software that had lighting quick responses. A phone that stored everything for Loki; His contacts, everything in his calendar, personal alarms for daily routines, apps that helped with maintaining his body physique, and importantly he had access to the school web pages for homework-In conclusion, Loki’s phone was his life.

Loki tries again for a chance to talk quickly.

She waved her hands, palms to him and waved them with her head down, “Uh huh. Nope. Go try to woo someone else with your good looks of, ‘tall, dark, and handsome.’” Her eyes met his as her hands gestured to him and her eyes skimmed over him briefly with the burning rage behind them. “There are a ton of people out there to fall for someone to take care of them with your fancy handwriting that obviously comes from a prestigious schooling. As well as your expensive clothes.”

Loki’s mouth parted and then shut firmly. “You make accusations based on nothing but a few things. Maybe you should try not to judge a book by its cover.”

She rose an eyebrow, “how? Over dinner while playing some Q and A?”

Loki rose his eyebrows in shock and his mouth parted slightly. Loki did not miss a chance though, “If it could even things out. Perhaps.”

She scoffed and put her glasses back in place over her eyes, “I would pay for myself anyway.”

Loki gesture between them before she would turn, “You think that would make this even?”

“How about you just read my lips and understand you don’t owe me anything.” Her eyebrows rose over the glasses with a forced smile, “we good now?”

Loki stared at the woman in disbelief. “If you insist everything is ok but-”

The woman replied with a curt nod and side smile, “Everything is great. Try to have a good day.”

Loki looked elsewhere not believing he was going to let her leave, “I wish you well and give many apologies.”

The woman turned when her phone went off, “I have to go. Bye.” She did not look back but greeted the person on the other line with a happy melodic, “hel~lo! Sorry I am late. I bumped into someone.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at the odd change but paid no attention to it as he went to the dining hall for food. Loki was going to enjoy some of his remaining free time with a large serving of sweets before returning to his room in solitude before Thor, Fandral, and Hogun returned to their combined space. Loki thanked the school for having the set up of separate bedrooms, however cursed the common small kitchen and livingroom that he had to walk through to use one of the bathrooms.

They would always try to get him to join in their “fun” of watching each other play a fighting game while they drank energy drinks. Hogun would go to bed at a reasonable time but the other two would stay up talking loudly about the damn game until they went out to a bar.

Sometimes Loki would join in a few games of cards just to take some of their money. It got to the point where everyone agreed to use just change instead of dollar bills.

Loki smirked as he remembered to take the vase full of coins to the change machine, “Idiots…”

Loki ate alone and no one bothered him either. He did watch as others around him talking cheerfully. A friend might be nice to spend some time with once in a while. However, Loki’s phone buzzing in his pocket with his schedule alarm to start practicing programming made him remember he was not there for companionship. He was at college to get an education.

Loki picked up after himself and walked swiftly to his dormitory, swiped his ID card to get through doors and finally his pin password for his shared space with the others. Loki stomach sunk when the lights were still off and no one was there. He noted the feeling as odd while he walked in a daze to his room. He shut his bedroom door off to the rest of the world and readied himself for an hour of programming.

Loki programmed for about an hour and a half to figure out something new he stumbled onto. Loki needed a shower. Something about programming made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and needing to feel fresh again. Loki’s cursed phone rang for the third time since he was getting ready to relax with a book. The most annoying sound he had on his phone was Thor’s ringtone. Loki purposely hit the end button to hang up and force the call to his mailbox. Grabbing a book and sitting in his comfortable desk chair Loki’s daily peace began.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #stubborn indepence #chapter 1 #brightsun-and-darkmidnight

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

DARING DO and the ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 15 of 21

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Daring Do

and the Adventure of the X'ibian Vase!

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

And

Carmen Pondiego

Cover Art by

Doctor Dimension

52630 words

Writing begun 08/26/15

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Jeremy had Sehang Shu down and was expertly probing her wound. The big dromedary had craned her neck about and was watching him with interest. The others were crouched at a respectful distance, even Daring Do and Soree were staying back. It needed no expertise to see that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Sehang Shu offered, “Really, Jeremy, we could just leave it there. The musket ball stopped in muscle.”

Jeremy looked up and nodded. “We could do that. It is a very bad idea, but we could do that.”

Trying to hold still for him, Sehang asked, “Why is it a bad idea?”

Still working to get the ball out of his friend, Jeremy replied, “This ball is almost pure lead. Your kind are very long lived. For years, no harm would show, but it would be building. The lead of the ball will work into your system and very slowly poison you.

“It will lead to early senility first. If you have good care, the poisoning will progress to muscle weakness, loss of control, convulsions and death. That is why it is important to get this out now.”

“I see. Thank you, Jeremy. I did not know that.

“May I say that, though you had me stay back during the firefight, you handled that very professionally. I thought that you did not like military things.”

Jeremy gave a sort of sad, sideways grin as he replied, “I don’t. That does not mean that I am not good at them. Part of the reason that my family was so disappointed in me was that I turned down a fully paid Hurricane Fellowship to the Equestrian Military College to study Antiquities.”

Daring Do sucked in a surprised breath. “A Hurricane Fellowship? That means that if you graduated at all, you would have been a major, at least. I can understand their disappointment, if not their sabotage of your chosen studies.”

Jeremy, in the meanwhile, got forceps on the ball and pulled the bloody thing out of Sehang Shu’s shoulder. He mopped blood from the wound, examined it closely, and went in with a small needle and gut held in different forceps.

Finally, satisfied, with his work on the deeper part of the wound, he asked, “Sehang, do you want a scar that will show on your skin?”

“No, Jeremy, I do not. Why would you ask?”

“I am not familiar with the ways of your kind in regard to scars. A Diamond Dog would absolutely want a Scar of Honor. Some ponies in the Equestrian Military Services do and some don’t. I thought it polite to ask.”

He pulled the last of his stitches tight, bound up the wound and stepped back. He advised, “Hard as it is to keep up, I will walk for the next few days. You must allow the others to each take a share of your load for now. It is necessary after a deep penetrating wound like that one.”

Sehang Shu gave Jeremy the bow of lower station to higher. “It shall be so, Jeremy. Since you will walk with me, may we continue our Colloquium? If so, I would like to arrange one with you, as well.

“I saw how you managed that small battle. It was far superior to how we would have done it. I would like to cover the tactics and strategy of small engagements. When we have any problems, here in the desert, they are mostly small ones, like that one.”

Jeremy gave her a precise bow of equals and replied, “It would be my honor. I am glad of the opportunity to return knowledge of value for the knowledge that I am getting from you.”

The group settled down. Daring Do, Soree and Jeremy finished their interrupted dinner and everyone found comfortable spots for the night.

The first light of the next day showed Jeremy sleeping beside Sehang Shu.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The three partners felt the impacts of multiple stones striking their truck. A wash of mud roaring down the slope caused the vehicle to sway and shift, though not far.

Robber was the first one out of their vehicle, even though the rain was still slashing down. Running back to where the other two trucks were now shoved far out of place. One had rolled over at least once. The other, seemed to be in fair shape.

Mixed with the still shifting mud, much of the expedition’s equipage was scattered from the wrecked vehicle. Ignoring the expedition’s damaged gear, Robber pried open a door of the wreck. He reached in and felt the desperate grasp of the Chineighese driver.

Over the din of wind driven rain, he called, “Can you free yourself?”

That was followed by the sound of things being shifted. He plainly heard the ripping of fabric, the creak of damaged seat parts being pressed and driven out of the way. At last, the driver, clearly severely bruised, at least, got his head out the door. Robber, without hesitation, began to work him free.

Overthrow joined him and they soon had the driver out. He was limping, but nothing seemed broken. Working together, they found heavy ropes among the scattered supplies.

They hitched the ropes to the remaining vehicle, trapped in mud, but not apparently harmed, and fastened them to the buffalo damaged truck that still worked. With Overthrow at the wheel, they managed to free the other slide trapped truck from the grasp of the mud.

Robber, Overthrow and the Chineighese drivers began to gather as much as they could find of the ruined truck’s load. It was a challenge, fitting it all into the remaining trucks. The wind whipping the canvas and lines about as they secured the loads did not help at all.

Neither did Tyranny. As they reentered the relative security of the cab of their damaged truck, he sulked, “Watch it! You are all wet! Muddy too!” He pulled back in distaste.

The other two looked at Tyranny in a distaste of their own. “We wouldn’t want to inconvenience so great a scholar as yourself.”

Overthrow said, “Imagine, Robber, doing a translation from X'ibian and not knowing that they consider the dromedary to be the embodiment of elegance and grace.”

Robber nodded, “I have been looking over some of the basic work that we have based this expedition on. Daring Do was right, back in our office. Tyranny was using pony based thinking to translate work that uses dromedary as an image or metaphor. And old X'ibian uses a lot of them.

“I have straightened out at least some of the worst errors. It still appears that Tyranny’s basic notion about using the Heart of Discord ought to work.”

Tyranny, to change the subject away from his many shortcomings, pointed out, “There was no real hurry about the damaged supplies. I bought us a full coverage insurance policy for the entire expedition. It is through Allstable Insurance, an Equestrian firm doing business in the Empire. They have an office in Cantrot. We should be able to reach there tomorrow.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Jeremy ignored Soree’s grin as she put away her sketchbook. He turned to Sehang Shu and asked, “How is your shoulder this morning? I am sure that it aches. Is there acute pain anywhere in the wound?”

She replied, “You are correct, Jeremy. It aches. Other than that, no. There is no sharp pain. I thank you for going to such trouble to get the ball out and fix the wound.”

Jeremy replied, “It was no trouble, Sehang. Now that it has had overnight to begin healing, you must begin to move it gently. Nothing faster than a slow walk at first. This will allow it to finish healing without scars binding muscles together. If that happens, it will always be painful to move. I do not want that for you.”

With a grin, Sehang Shu replied, “Neither do I, Jeremy. Please, though, call me Shu. That is my given name.”

She got up and walked slowly with Jeremy to where breakfast was being prepared. The rest of Sang He’s herd watched in amusement.

Jeremy was in time to make the tea. Soree already had the rice mixed with some dried vegetables on.

Breakfast past, whole group set out at a gentle walk for a dromedary. Jeremy only had to canter to keep up.

The whole herd was listening quietly as Jeremy began to explain, “For small engagements, there are four basic types of advance in force …”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The remains of ROT’s expedition pulled up in front of an unimpressive brick building with a paned glass front window. The Allstable Insurance Group emblem was posted on a placard inside the dusty glass.

To the surprise of the partners, there was a pony standing outside waiting for them. He had a small skull cap and wore a orange and blue silken robe. He bowed to them the bow of equals as they dismounted from the bufallo damaged truck.

Speaking heavily accented but clear Equestrian, “Good day. Which of you is Mister Tyranny? He alone signed your policy, of which I do have a copy, should yours be lost or misplaced in the various accidents that I have heard of.”

Robber bowed in return and said, “He is Mister Tyranny. If it is permitted, I have a better grasp of custom and would speak for us all.”

“I see. It is often so with foreign parties. If he assents, it shall be so.”

Overthrow had to nudge the arrogant Tyranny to bow and say, “He does seem to get along better with you ponies.”

Nodding and bowing back, the Agent said, “I shall take that as assent.” Turning to Robber he continued, “I have only the official reports for a few events and it is clear that far more damage has occurred than is in them. May I first assess the present vehicles and ask what has happened to the other one?”

Robber bowed deeply and said, “It was a storm last night. We were parked in the hills to the south and east of here, on the Dunn See river road. A slide of mud and stone wrecked one truck completely and entrapped one. We were able to free the entrapped truck but the other was rolled over and its underworks broken by the stones to where it could not proceed.

“No pony was injured beyond a few bruises.” His bow was accompanied by the presentation of five golden cash.

The watching Tryanny nudged Overthrow and commented loudly, “We should get a good settlement now that the wheels are greased!” Overthrow just put his hoof over his eyes and groaned.

The Agent’s face froze. Bowing as one of high station to a lower, he said, “I see why you speak for that fool. I am sorry for you that you must put up with him.”

Turning to the lead truck, he pointed at the front end and side door. “Please tell me of these damages which are also not in the reports.”

Robber bowed deeply again and said, “Thank you for your sympathy. It is welcome.”

Tyranny ground his teeth in outrage but held his tongue now that the damage was already done.

Robber went on, “We were somewhat short of the hills where we were forced to stop for the night. There was a water buffalo on the road. We stopped as advised in the manual of driving. The water buffalo did not.”

The Agent smiled at the jest and replied with a bow of equals, “That is an all too common tale. It charged you twice?”

Robber, following the lead of the Agent bowed as an equal and agreed, “It did.”

Before Overthrow could shut him up, Tyranny grumped out loud, “All that I did was try to shoo the creature out of our way!”

The Agent overheard and turned to Robber with a severe glance. “Did that unworthy person indeed provoke the water buffalo?”

Glumly, Robber agreed, “He did. Both times. The owner came up with a long light switch or wand. He tapped the beast and started to direct it away. Mister Tyranny flapped a hoof at it and shouted to shoo it away. It charged at once, damaging our night driving lamps. The owner got its attention and was driving it off when our unwise leader foolishly did the same. Except that it hit the door, the result was identical.

“The beast was then driven off by light taps of the wand and a few flaps of the owner’s hat.”

“I see. You must all come inside. There we will consult the actual policy in both Equestrian and Chineighese. Your settlement will be determined by what is written in it. I do see that it is a custom policy drawn for this expedition.

“It is signed by Mister Tyranny and Senior Partner and Agent, Marehem.”

Overthrow’s jaw dropped. Barely remembering to bow, he exclaimed, “Marehem? Is that the same blue and orange maned pony in the Allstable advertising?”

The Agent bowed to Overthrow and replied, “He is indeed. Since his colors are thought by the superstitious to be a sign of bad fortune, and his parts in advertising connect him to disasters, it has a most favorable effect. Our Insurance is widely sought.”

Overthrow, under better control, pointed out, “As Senior Partner of Allstable, he owns more than half of the company. I wonder who owns the rest?”

The Agent, not even pausing in his search of the files for their policy, replied, “An Equestrian firm. Its initials are V.I.L.E.

“Here is the policy, in both languages. We shall be generous in allowing the Equestrian version to rule.”

As they were parking the trucks in a repair garage’s lot, Overthrow growled at Tyranny, “How could you possibly have signed that!? Didn’t you recognize those whole sections that might as well have been lifted directly from our expedition funding offer for Daring Do?”

Robber counting the cash on the string, snickered sadly, “Eighteen copper cash! I am amazed that we got this much!”

Shortly, the pony in the garage office presented his estimate. Robber read it to the other two. “Sadly, the details are right. So is the three hundred gold cash estimate. It may run a little more than that.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

<==Previous Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

#DARING DO AND THE ADVENTURE OF THE X'IBIAN VASE #Part 15 of 21 #MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer and Carmen Pondiego

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brightsun-and-darkmidnight · 4 years

Text

Stubborn Independence

TITLE: Stubborn Independence

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 1/10

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine getting into a petty fight with Loki, so in retaliation, he puts everything on the top shelf where you can’t reach?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: College AU. Loki is determined to take over Odin's company. He works hard and has a strict schedule for success. However, with the interference of Thor and the other four, Loki's plans are often interrupted so they can play matchmaker.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

~ ~ ENJOY ~ ~

Fandral smiled brightly with a loud laugh and in a desperate time to prove him wrong, Loki looked at his schedule with a smart remark on his tongue. Loki's smile disappeared quickly. Damn. He did have the same class as Fandral.

Fandral smiled that bright smile and then winked to the side and Loki heard the high pitched giggles of flirting women, "Shall we walk together when classes start next week? Perhaps I could get you a date this year?"

With an eye roll and voice laced with sarcasm Loki replied, "yes because I want help from you."

Thor clapped Loki's back, "this is going to be the time of our lives. College is full of possibilities. Last year was such a great time for the five of us! There were plenty of people I met! Last year all you did in your free time was study. Lighten up Brother, and develop friendships."

Siff spoke up after scribbling on schedules, "Or he could get the best grades, and the honors scholarship for extra money." Sif gave Thor a raised eyebrow after he chuckled, then she shrugged going back to scribbling. She muttered, "graduate top class and make more money than you. Support himself and whoever stumbles into his life."

Valstagg's boisterous laughter caught everyone's attention until his eyes darted in the direction of a food truck. He mumbled, "That would be quite the stumble for Loki to notice."

Hogun's lip twitches a smidge as he looked at the schedules with Siff and marking them. Loki's schedule was back and he looked it over. He had the 8am class with Thor and knew the idiot would miss too much class from the way Thor groaned over a class first thing on a Monday. Loki had the damn extracurricular art class that Fandral was also in.

Fandral inquired, "so...Sif are we going to come to your dorm room for lunch?"

Sif smirked, "the invitation goes to everyone but you."

"How cruel to keep me away from the sight of your beautiful dorm mate."

Loki was sure he somehow ran into something but with a curse word flying out of someone's mouth realization struck instantly this was not an object. Loki instinctively held his hands out to catch the person. Short hair in blended layers caught the sunlight in wonderful variations of browns. The hair seemed to flow slowly as Loki hastily pulled the person closer to prevent a fall. Warm leather in his hands that helped with the grasp. Once stabilized Loki glanced down and noticed the petite and plus size girl in his grasp.

Loki had money to replace her phone, even get his which was the newest model of over a thousand dollars. His parents had money due to his father, Odin, owning a software corporation that was supposed to be handed down to either Thor or Loki. Of course depending on who learned the most in college from their business majors. Loki actually had plenty of money he earned himself due to taking a position to work in his father's business, a branch closest to the campus in an attempt to learn more. To inherit the corporation was the goal and was the reason he spent too much time in his room, practicing programming for his second major in computer science.

Loki quickly replied as soon as it registered, "I am sorry. I didn't-"

The woman's face turned to his with lightning speed and her lips parted with a harsh tone, "if you say you didn't see me because I am short I will bring you down to my level with a punch to your gut."

Loki wasn't sure if this little ball of fire even heard a word he said. He spoke again as he took a small writing tablet from his inner coat pocket, "here is my information, we could meet later and you can pick out any phone you wish. There is a business not far from here that I work at-"

A casual, but with irritation mixed, voice spoke, "Not interested. I have the insurance on this one to have it replaced."

As she crumpled up the paper and threw it in the recycling bin she spoke, "Thanks for the offer but I will pass."

Loki's eyebrows furrowed, "pardon?"

The small woman stopped as she replaced the sunglasses to her head. "Can you see now that I don't want your help?"

"You just cost me a ton of work to replace a dumbass phone. Nice work by the way to try to get me to call you. Clever plan, but it's not something I fall for."

"If you would let me help-"

The woman interrupted him, again with a scoff.

Loki tries again for a chance to talk quickly.

She waved her hands, palms to him and waved them with her head down, "Uh huh. Nope. Go try to woo someone else with your good looks of, 'tall, dark, and handsome.'" Her eyes met his as her hands gestured to him and her eyes skimmed over him briefly with the burning rage behind them. "There are a ton of people out there to fall for someone to take care of them with your fancy handwriting that obviously comes from a prestigious schooling. As well as your expensive clothes."

Loki's mouth parted and then shut firmly. "You make accusations based on nothing but a few things. Maybe you should try not to judge a book by its cover."

She rose an eyebrow, "how? Over dinner while playing some Q and A?"

Loki rose his eyebrows in shock and his mouth parted slightly. Loki did not miss a chance though, "If it could even things out. Perhaps."

She scoffed and put her glasses back in place over her eyes, "I would pay for myself anyway."

Loki gesture between them before she would turn, "You think that would make this even?"

"How about you just read my lips and understand you don't owe me anything." Her eyebrows rose over the glasses with a forced smile, "we good now?"

Loki stared at the woman in disbelief. "If you insist everything is ok but-"

The woman replied with a curt nod and side smile, "Everything is great. Try to have a good day."

Loki looked elsewhere not believing he was going to let her leave, "I wish you well and give many apologies."

The woman turned when her phone went off, "I have to go. Bye." She did not look back but greeted the person on the other line with a happy melodic, "hel~lo! Sorry I am late. I bumped into someone."

They would always try to get him to join in their "fun" of watching each other play a fighting game while they drank energy drinks. Hogun would go to bed at a reasonable time but the other two would stay up talking loudly about the damn game until they went out to a bar.

Sometimes Loki would join in a few games of cards just to take some of their money. It got to the point where everyone agreed to use just change instead of dollar bills.

Loki smirked as he remembered to take the vase full of coins to the change machine, "Idiots…"

Loki ate alone and no one bothered him either. He did watch as others around him talking cheerfully. A friend might be nice to spend some time with once in a while. However, Loki's phone buzzing in his pocket with his schedule alarm to start practicing programming made him remember he was not there for companionship. He was at college to get an education.

Loki programmed for about an hour and a half to figure out something new he stumbled onto. Loki needed a shower. Something about programming made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and needing to feel fresh again. Loki's cursed phone rang for the third time since he was getting ready to relax with a book. The most annoying sound he had on his phone was Thor's ringtone. Loki purposely hit the end button to hang up and force the call to his mailbox. Grabbing a book and sitting in his comfortable desk chair Loki's daily peace began.

#brightsun-and-darkmidnight #Stubborn Independence #loki #college au

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yyparkq · 5 years

Text

untitled 10/14

Park Jinyoung is one of the most manipulative person you ever met in your 25 seemingly long years of existence. He’s the kind of person who could always find a way to twist anybody’s words or actions much to his own favor. Even when he doesn’t, he’s always got a way to make someone feel terrible for not letting him have his way. His undeniable charms only fuel his mundane talent of influencing people. It only takes one look, at the very least, from him with his earnest eyes and he’d certainly have you falling for his tricks over and over.

Maybe that’s part of how he got you by his side now.

When you moved into the city because of your father’s work, you were certain you will never find the same circle of friends you had in the neighborhood where you’ve practically been born into. Your main circle of friends composed of three boys and four girls—now three because of your sudden resettlement in the city. You hated the idea of moving and even begged your parents to leave you under your grand parents’ care (which was relatively nearby) instead but to no avail. Whose parents would leave their only daughter behind out of whim when they can very well take care of her on their own anyway?

The city does not appeal to you as much as you thought it would be when you first set foot in it. Alongside your father’s promotion at work is a funded scholarship for your studies — a deserved treat for always being an honor student in your class — being your mom a former high school principal and now a university chairperson and your dad a high-ranking lawyer in a prestigious private law firm. The expectations of everyone in your family was silently vested upon your shoulders. Your parents have always been supportive with a hint of strictness when it comes to your studies, so they chose a school perfect for their dreams of you in the city.

The new school was nice, each student obviously born with silver spoons in their mouths. You were placed in the cream section given your academic credentials. You were instantly loved by the teachers and made a few new friends in class. When lunch came and you realized you’re not comfortable enough to share a meal with your new friends, you decided to eat in peace at the cafeteria. The food sucked but you had no choice so you made a mental note to ask your mom to prepare a boxed lunch for your the following day. You were in the middle of your meal when somebody shared your table. Curious, you peeked at the person who dared sit in front of you when there are number of vacant chairs around. Quietly sitting across you is a guy from your class whose name you have forgotten. He ate his meal and didn’t even bother to strike up a conversation with you which you totally thanked all the heavens for.

The silent lunch together repeated the following day and continued for the whole week until you finally questioned him as to why. “I like eating with you. It brings me peace.” he answered after swallowing his spoonful of rice. “And the girls don’t bother me. They must be afraid of you so..” he shrugged at the last part and continued eating.

“Oh, so you are using my company to your advantage” you hate to admit but Park Jinyoung is a one fine boy who has the aura of a matured and intellectual person despite being in almost the same age as you. You figured he must be chased in the school by the way the girls look at their direction every lunch time.

Jinyoung smiled at your statement, letting the whiskers under his eyes visible. “I like smart girls.” he said and pinched your cheek. “Do you want to study with me after class?”

What. The thought of studying after class with Jinyoung made you cringe. You already spend most of your days seeing him in the classroom so why would you bother seeing him after class even? You politely declined his invitation and told him how you don’t really feel like studying today, in which he followed up with other date suggestions, scheduling study session for the next day and the day after. When you finally gave up a day off school on weekend, he promised to go to your house.

Jinyoung’s mom insisted to drop him off his friend’s house, sensing there is much more than a simple study session that her son is doing today. Pulling up at the front yard, you heard faint squeals and distant chatters. You feigned ignorance to the commotion, hoping the annoying Park Jinyoung forgets about the deal you had and that the noises at the other side of the window were of your neighbor’s.

But of course there is nowhere Park Jinyoung will ever forget nor deliberately skip being with you for another day masked as a duo study session. On that same day, you learned that you and Jinyoung’s parents were college friends.

Your mom was so charmed by Jinyoung since the first time she met him at your house that when he asked her to take you out several times, she didn’t think twice.

In between ‘study sessions’, there were both intended and unintended little dates—walks to the park, stargazing, trips to ice cream parlors, quick grocery shopping, biking, and driving to McDonald’s, to name a few. Somehow, you two have been dependent on each other.

One summer, Jinyoung had to visit a funeral of a distant family member in another state and you cried when he came back because you missed him so much. He held you close then and cooed you as you ball your fist on his shirt, cursing him for leaving you alone. You actually didn’t know you could be that dramatic. The scene seemed to amuse the guy in front of you and Jinyoung asked why you were crying when you knew he’d come back for you. You’re pretty sure he already knew the answer yet he wanted you to form them into coherent words and roll it out of your tongue.

You choked on your tears and told him you missed him and confessed that you actually liked him. You punched his chest when you noticed he’s got a sly smile on his lips and his eyes were of crescent shape, teasing. “Fucking skunk. Get off me already, I’m taking it back, I actually hate you!” you actually screamed at him, aware that he knows of that already but still manages to make you say it for his own liking. Come to think of it, he’s the first one to confess between you two when he first asked you to study together, not completely leaving your side for more than a day.

When high school ended, it was no surprise how you both graduated with honors resulting to both of your parents being very supportive of your relationship. You went to the same college and took different majors but still managed to get out of it with your relationship untainted. It could very well look like an ideal relationship except that you both had your fair share of fights and emotional mishaps along the way — a thing you had learned to be inevitable. If at all, the major and even petty fights you had made you matured and led to want to understand each other more.

Jinyoung pulls the car at the parking lot of your new apartment. It has been half a year since you got married and moved in to your new home. The building you both settled in is in a quiet neighborhood situated at the far end of the city.

His arm instantly goes around your waist as you both walk to the service elevator of the building. “Should we cook or should we order for dinner?” he murmurs against your hair as he pulled you closer to him when you entered the elevator. You figured it is one of those times when Jinyoung plays a bit too clingy with you. Turning around to face and return his embrace, you look up at him and under your lashes, trying ever slightly to act cute. “Will you cook?”

Jinyoung shots his pair of eyebrows up, possibly encouraging you to do more of the act you started. You bat your lashes at him and slightly pout.

He chuckles and kisses your temple. “Tangsuyuk it is, then” he says as he drag you out of the elevator when you reach your floor. He may be a manipulative person, sure, but you have learned to maneuver some simple things your way too when it comes to him.

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itsyaboikeeen · 4 years

Text

Closure: The Story of My First Love

Ten years.

After 10 long years, I finally had my closure

I guess no one really knew the who, when, where, why and how of my first love.

Who was she?

When did it happen?

Where did I meet her?

How did I fall in love with her?

Why didn’t we work?

This will probably be a long read, so you might as well sit down in a comfortable place when you read this.

I guess, I should probably start from the beginning of my story.

I met my first love when I was on 5th grade. Funny, right?

"How can you say that you fell in love already at that age?", you might say.

She was just a transferee from who knows where. At that time, I never knew that she'd be one of my first and most painful heartbreak. I was so... innocent.

As THE friendly student, I always tried to be close with everybody. And surprisingly, when I met her, we got along really well.

She was such a crybaby, as far as I can remember. But, when she cries or when she gets mad, everybody shuts up and listens to her. Badass.

You see, I was raised strictly by my parents. I always had to focus on my studies, even after class. I rarely slacked off at home. I was always serious about examinations and studying.

But, when I met her, I learned how to loosen up. She made me see things in a way that I've never seen that way before. She made me appreciate all these little things, around me. She made me realize a lot of things. When I'm with her, I felt like I was myself the most. It was fun, having her around. She was always at my back, observing. She was the Hinata to this Naruto. LOL.

It was by the end of the 5th grade when I 'accidentally' knew she had a crush on me. I was visiting a friend of mine at lunchtime when I heard someone arguing at the visitor's area. When I went inside, I saw her infront of one of her friends, confessing that she has feelings for me. Her friend was teasing her and she was tearing up already. Right then and there, our eyes met, and she immediately cried, shouted and ran away from us. It was so funny... and cute at the same time; I thought.

No one has ever had a crush on me. Not ever. Or at least, told me they did. I always thought there were better... more good-looking guys than me. Why the hell would she ever had a crush on me? At that time, I was very blind and in denial.

After that event, everything became awkward between us. We rarely talked with each other. She always avoided me whenever I tried to talk with her. It was cute. Very cute.

It was not until the 6th grade when we started texting with each other. We talked, and talked. For hours. Every night. I remember using my mom's phone to text with her so I had to be sneaky as fuck.

I think my mom had an idea, because at one point, she caught a flirt-y-ish text she sent. She asked me later if I have a crush on someone from my class. I straight up denied my feelings and told her I wasn't 'crushing' on anybody.

Maybe I was scared. Until now, maybe I'm still a scaredy-cat. I never had the guts to tell my mom that time that I had a crush on someone, mainly because I thought of it as a distraction to my studies.

And still, after graduation, I asked her out.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

This boi rushing.

So, guess what happened?

She laughed.

She just... laughed. And completely changed the topic. But, I never gave up. She said she wasn't ready for that. So, I made a promise with her. Cheesy as it may be, I told her my heart will always be hers. I even went as far as telling her, 10 years from that day... if she's still single, I would marry her.

Have you ever had that feeling? That rush. That strong beat from your heart, shouting: I want to be with her. So bad. I want to be there when she laughs. Or when she cries. I want to see her happy every time.

Is this what having 'butterflies in your stomach?' felt, I asked myself.

I was at the edge of the cliff... ready to fall. Ready to fall in love. But, she held me back. She pushed me back, rolling down the hill, and into a deep, dark, and cold sea. Eventually, things got cold between us. We entered high school, trying to forget what he had.

Fast forward to first-year high school. She and I were in the same class. There were a lot of amazing transferees, competing to be top of the class. Typical Asian setting.

The pressure to be at the top was immense since majority of the students who were in that class were elementary achievers. Valedictorians, salutatorians, and honor students. I was very occupied that year.

Throughout that year, she had a "friendly" relationship with this guy who I think had a crush on her. I could smell his intentions, reeking from his enormous nose. I'm sorry dude, if you are reading this. Hahaha. But I doubt that.

I was really jealous of him. She was blind about it.

He held her hands all the time, even when they're next to each other in class. She leaned on him, whenever she took a nap. They hangout after class before they go home. Go to recess together. They might as well kiss when they see each other first thing in the morning.

*sighs*

I think I did confront her about it, but we only ended up fighting. I convinced myself I was just terribly infatuated with her. The year ended, and the guy she was with left our school for personal reasons. I didn't care.

Summer 2013. I got a text from her. She was going to see her mom for a long time. We started texting each other again. It was only a matter of days when I found myself, falling for her again. You fragile motherfucker.

My shield was up. I'm clothed with armor. And she freaking drops good morning and good nights like freaking nuclear bombs.

Up until now, I've kept all of her texts in my old Nokia phone, that I can't charge anymore. I should probably get that deleted.

I saw her pictures online that summer. She looked so happy. She was an angel.

An angel of death, I mean.

I was so excited to see her on the first day of class.

I felt like my heart would burst the moment I see her.

*Kriiiiing kriiiiing*

The school bell rang. But, she didn’t show up that morning. I can overhear her close friends asking each other where she was. Maybe she didn't plan to go to school today, or maybe she wasn’t still here. I thought.

The morning classes continued that day and I couldn't help myself but think about her. I almost gave up from thinking about her when one of our classmates shouted.

Our classmate was looking at our school gate, screaming her name. She was late. Verrrrrrrrrrry late.

Everyone in our class stood up and looked outside the window. She was running across our school court towards the room. And when she entered the room, her friends came running towards her. Her best friend gave her a solid hug. I think she gave each and every close friend of hers a hug. She greeted everyone... except me.

Heh.

She didn't even look me in they freaking eye. I... couldn't approach her. The teacher tried to take control of the class, and our class resumed.

I think it was days after that, before we started talking again. But, it was just casual talk. Dull. Very dull. "Isang tanong, isang sagot" [One question, one answer], as we call it here in the Philippines.

I was so frustrated. I couldn't understand her.

Whyyy? I mean... whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy???

I think it was three or four months after that when I learned that she was going out with someone, again. This time, she was going out with the cousin of the guy she called her "guy bestfriend" from first year. He was in our class, too.

This time, their relationship was very discreet. Everyone in our class knew. It was like a big slap in my face. I was beyond creepy at that time. I lowkey look at them sometimes when no one's watching me. Getting more jealous each passing time.

I was already thinking dozen of ways how to kill that guy. I was filled with... rage. I even fought the guy, over her. Now that I'm thinking of it, it was quite hilarious. I kept on telling the guy that she and I were in love with each other, but then he argued if we were really into each other, then why was she with him? And I... didn't know the answer, too. I stepped back. At that point, I asked myself.

Do I really look like just a rebound to her? Maybe I am.

Was she just using me? Maybe she was.

I was so confused. I thought we had something. Right then and there, I decided to give up. And move on.

Months later, they broke up. I didn't bother knowing why.

My friends kept on telling me to move on.

"Babae lang yan." (It's just a girl), they said.

But, she wasn't JUST a girl to me.

To me, she was indispensible.

Irreplaceable.

She was one of a kind.

I fear that I may never be able to find someone like her.

But, I had to. I had to start moving on.

The school year ended. We barely talked with each other. The only time we had interaction were during group works. And we had to be 'professional' about it. I was. And she was, too.

There were times when we had to do a stage plays. We often played as a broken married couple. There would always be a scene where we would fight each other. Typical husband-abuses-wife scene. She would cry. She was great at that. Convincing. It seemed like it was almost true when she cried. Everyone got swayed by her acting. And then, she would slap me. Really hard.

As an actor, of course, I had to be professional about it. But damn. Her slap stinged. It was as if it was filled with sadness... and anger. And I liked it.

Don't think weirdly about it. Haha. I didn't like-like it cause I was masochistic.

I liked it cause it was less painful.

It was less painful than what I was feeling deep inside. At least with her hand on my face, even for just a millisecond, I felt a response from her. She never replies or replied to my texts that year the way she did years ago.

You see, a slap in a face would sting. A strong slap in the face would make your head numb for seconds. But her slap... her slaps made my numb heart beat.

We completely ignored each other throughout 3rd year. Hell, I couldn't even remember a single memory of her that year. We never interacted beyond necessary.

Whenever I heard her name, it rings through my ear and into my heart, then pierces it like needles for acupunctures. And trust me, it wasn't therapeutic.

Summer 2014. Our high school life was nearing to an end. It was during this time when I started to reflect on the things I did during my high school year. And one of the things that I would say I wanted to resolve was my messy ‘relationship’ with her.

So... I started texting her again. I called sometimes. And, we talked about it. I even remember a time when my cousin caught me crying in their bedroom cause we were confessing and all that romantic shit. I looked like shit, I think.

I re-confessed my feelings for her. She reciprocated. And that time, I asked her... again. The same question I asked her 4 years ago to that day.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

Guess what?

She laughed.

And then... she said yes.

My heart skyrocketed.

I couldn't comprehend what she just said. I feel like I was the luckiest guy in the world at that time. But, you'll probably get mad at me because of what you'll be hearing next.

After one week, I broke up with her.

Until to this day, I still didn't understand myself why I did it.

Was I trying to play her? No.

Was it because the thrill of the chase was over? No.

Was it because I wanted to hurt her? Maybe.

I couldn't explain myself. I kept on excusing myself with questions like: "Was everything worth it?" "Is she serious about this?" "What if everyone knew?"

Was I scared? Yes.

Did I think things through before doing it? Maybe not.

But, it is what it is. Of course, she got mad. I broke up with her two weeks before classes started. Unfortunately, we got separated into different classes on our senior year. And on one occassion, we confronted each other and said face-to-face that we didn't have feelings with each other anymore. But, I lied.

Seeing her rarely helped me forget about her every now and then. I eventually learned that a lot of guys were courting her, but I barely cared anymore.

Barely.

Seeing her, after I took a step back, it made me realize what a fool I am for letting her go.

Well, her friends did tell me to distance myself from her, if I couldn't commit. So I did. I think I wasn't ready for commitment that time. I was too preoccupied. Maybe I didn't want to be with anyone that time. I don't know. But I was an asshole for popping that question if I was that unsure.

Graduation day, her mom came back from Canada. I learned that she was going to be visiting Canada soon. And by visiting, she was going to take a VERY long vacation.

So, on the day of my birthday, I invited all of my classmates to my grandma's house to celebrate my graduation, too. I wanted her to come.

Almost all of my friends and classmates went, but she didn't show up.

It was nearly 7 ‘o clock in the evening. I called her. She said her mom was preparing for them to leave already and that she was busy.

She hung up on me.

I had no choice. I had the courage and audacity to call her mom, and invite her to come. I really wanted to see her.

(The reason why I have contact with her mom is a long story. But, we were close. I think. Hahahaha.)

Past 7PM, they showed up. Her parents met my mom and my family. And then, we left the scene to the rooftop.

My little cousins were playing around us. Observing. Meddling. They were curious who she was. I never brought any girl to our house before. And no girl has every visited our house past 7PM.

We ate supper. It was almost romantic, if only my cousing weren't there.

Eventually, they left us.

She was silent. I was, too. The lights were dim that night, but her face glimmered below the starry sky night. It was a very good night. I didn't see any clouds. I was so nervous.

This was the first time I was ever with her... alone, and no one watching.

Just the two of us.

I didn't know who would make the first move? I thought of talking, but I didn't know where to start. I didn't know what to say. I just looked at her, and she looked at me.

Right before I was about to start talking, my mom called us. They told me they need to leave already. I didn't get the chance to talk with her. Or even talk things properly.

They left that night, with me... hanging again... on a forgotten promise.

A year later, I was in college already. And we still talked with each other when she went to Canada. I kept asking her when is she coming back. She always lied about it. She never went back.

Throughout college, I still dreamt of her sometimes. Wishing she was back. But, I eventually forgot about her. There were a lot of times when she and I had "withdrawals".

Sometimes, I would tell her I miss her, and then she would leave me on seen. There are other times when she asked me if we still had a chance. And sometimes, we end up wondering on each other’s ‘what ifs’.

We couldn't seem to end our relationship.

Who knows? Maybe it was still possible.

But, she really broke me. She messed me up. I find it hard to find someone new, because I always assume that things would end up the same. Sometimes, I think I'll never love the same way again.

Two months ago to this date, I was really having a bad day. A bad week, even. Or maybe a bad month. This corona thing messed up my plans for the year. I mean, cmon... it messed up everything for us.

So, I was back in my apartment, resting... all alone. My roommate has gone home to our province, and I was spending my time alone. She messaged me on Facebook. I was pleasantly surprised. And I immediately told her, I wanted to video call her. Surprisingly, she said yes. It was midnight where she lived and it the sun was high here.

I called and she answered. She didn't look like what she looked like before. It was a very long call. We talked for hours, reminiscing about our relationship. What I did wrong. What she did wrong. What she really felt. What I felt about it. I even played her a song. Some of it were our favorites:

'Simpleng Tao' by Gloc 9

'We Could Happen' by AJ Rafael

'Girl Running Around In My Dreams' by Tyrone Wells;

and many more.

I had fun talking with her.

In the end, we talked about what mattered the most that time. Accepting that we have held onto something that can never happen anymore. At least at the moment. We decided to stay friends now, and I talk to her every now and then.

Looking back, I can say I learned a lot from that 'relationship'. And it's something that I wouldn't forget even to my death bed. I hurt her a lot. What we talked about for the rest of that day shall remain a secret for me and her.

If there's one thing I learned that I would like to share it would be:

“If you feel like you saw that special someone already, don't be afraid and seize the moment. Don't waste another time of yours of not being with that special someone.”

If you're still reading this to this point, thank you for listening to my story. You probably had a lot of time to kill. Well, I wrote this for myself anyway so I can look back at something in the future.

There were probably a lot of details I missed from the whole story. This was just my story, after all.

#love #story

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bananonymity · 5 years

Text

Based on this au

“So,” said Ludwig, “you’d like to drop Music Theory.”

Student Advisor Ludwig Beilschmidt’s office was orderly, clean, and devoid of distraction. It was a wonder how it hadn’t driven anyone mad yet. Emil found it calming to a point; it made him somewhat nostalgic for his comfort zone of Icelandic minimalism, except for the lack of spacious windows.

Emil nodded.

“Not your liking?” said Ludwig.

“It wasn’t bad,” Emil said. He had no real complaint against the course. The first day of class, Professor Edelstein spent the entire hour and fifteen minutes teaching the students how to find the cheapest textbooks on Amazon. “But I already know music theory.”

“So you’d like to challenge yourself,” Ludwig said.

“I guess,” Emil said.

Ludwig nodded with approval, missing or ignoring the glum note to Emil’s tone. The real reason that he wanted to drop out was in fact the very opposite; the moment he stepped into the music building, he felt such oppressive intimidation that he actually texted his older brother for comfort, which went something like this:

LUKAS: How are you liking your classes?

EMIL: [thumbs down emoji]

It was a risky move, because goodness knew if this amount of unprecedented emotional vulnerability would worry Lukas. Emil regretted the raw honesty immediately afterward, but by then it was too late.

“That’s one of the great things about university,” said Ludwig. “It gives you avenues to study subjects you wouldn’t have thought of before. Now, dropping this course would mean you need to take up another course to fulfill the minimum amount of credits to be a full time student in this semester. Have you thought of what you would like to add?”

“Not exactly,” Emil said, staring at the corner of Ludwig’s screen where about seven new email notifications from frantic students at the edge of add-drop period scrambled to change their majors.

“Well, I can tell you that you still have some gen eds that you would have to fulfill,” said Ludwig. “One social studies and one art course. That would be good to take care of while you are still a first year.”

“Mm,” Emil said.

“And if you’re up for a challenge, or have interest in specific topics, there are certainly some classes in the one thousand level that have extra space.”

“Mm.”

“Or since you’re already quite ahead in your credits, you can explore a topic for your own enrichment.”

“Mm.”

Ludwig gave Emil a look of pleading exasperation. Emil fixed his gaze stubbornly on the window.

“What is your preference?” Ludwig said.

Emil pursed his lips. He knew that it was harder on Ludwig than on him to deal with his unhelpful indecision, but it did not give him any clearer opinion on what he ought to do. Maybe he should have bitten the bullet and stayed in Professor Roderich’s class. Maybe he should have thought of this before the semester started. Maybe he should have never applied to a university so far from home. Maybe he should have never graduated high school, in general.

“I guess finish my gen ed courses,” Emil said.

Ludwig nodded with enthusiasm for the both of them.

“So, an art course and a social studies course,” said Ludwig. “We have several art courses that are available for you here. Let’s see…”

Ludwig pulled up all the available courses for the semester that would fulfill an art credit. The array of choices made Emil’s eyes blur.

“How about Intro to Film?” said Ludwig. “That would cover your art credit, and also give you an extra English credit if you’re looking into pursuing a certificate.”

“A certificate?” Emil said. “What for?”

“Certification for Digital Media, if that interests you,” Ludwig said.

Emil sputtered.

“I don’t even know what my major is!” he said. “What’s a certificate going to do for me?”

“You don’t have to take it for a certificate,” Ludwig said quickly as Emil buried his face in his hands. “I just meant that it was a nice way to kill two birds with one stone if--”

“But I don’t want to kill birds,” Emil said. “I don’t even know what birds to kill. What kind of person am I if I went around killing random birds just because society tells me that’s how to get a job?”

He slumped back into his seat, letting out a huff of distress. He supposed that he needn’t yell about it, but he had to affirm himself that he made a solid point. Ludwig, in the meantime, only rubbed his brow wearily.

“No certification then,” said Ludwig. “But if we just look at art credits, would that interest you?”

“What is the class like?” Emil said.

“Well...”

“Class, I want you to write this down. Soviet cinema banks on violently killing off every character that has a face on screen. You can quote me on that, I have a doctorate.”

Leon Wang, Emil’s roommate, scribbled this down on his notebook, if only because he knew it would make a solid tweet later on. Professor Alfred F. Jones paced about the front of the room, whizzing through his PowerPoint presentation faster than any of the students could actually take notes.

“Battleship Potemkin? Dead,” said Alfred. “Strike? Dead. A five-second example of the Kuleshov effect? Dead baby. Basically, if you want to make a Soviet montage, kill a bunch of farmers from different camera angles.”

“Professor Jones?” One student raised their hand in the back.

“Call me Alfred,” Alfred said, flashing a dazzling grin. “What’s up?”

“Can you go back to the last slide with all the notes?” they said.

“Fine, but you all gotta catch up faster than that,” Alfred said.

He backspaced on the PowerPoint, skipping through the past fifteen or so slides that he had flew through in half a minute until he reached the slide of haphazard bullet points.

“So, to recap,” said Alfred. “Soviet montage wasn’t necessarily trying to break the rules of cinema. Leave that to the French in the sixties, God help them. But Eisenstein and Kuleshov in particular wanted to use editing differently, to create a synergetic meaning through editing shots together that, by itself, wouldn’t communicate that. Sort of like how on Instagram, you can either build a collage or just have multiple photos in a post, and the effect of it is different depending on how you arrange it, right?”

“What?” said Leon.

“So there you go,” Alfred said. Leon sighed and wrote Instagram = Soviet montage (?) in his notebooks, and hoped that Alfred upload the slides onto Blackboard later today.

“But here’s the wild thing,” said Alfred. “Soviet montage outlived the USSR. Stalin is dead! But even in the play-it-safe boon of Hollywood, we still use those seemingly weird and non-linear montage editing for our movies. Take Arrival. Has anyone here not seen Arrival?”

Several hands went up in the air. Alfred threw a dry erase board marker on the floor.

“Too bad! Spoilers alert,” he said. “The reason why you go into the movie thinking that it is being told in a linear manner, and that Amy Adams’ daughter dies in the beginning of the story, is through the Kuleshov effect. You see her in the beginning of the movie watching her daughter die, and then the scene cuts to her going to work. And you--the audience, you think she looks so sad and distant and uninterested in the news about these octopus aliens because of the recent death of her daughter. But actually you only think that because the two scenes are put back to back. Her face was really just neutral, but because of editing you think they are related, when it is actually a flash forward--or flashback. Dead baby!”

Leon nodded fervently, writing with a little more vigor in his notebook. Maybe Alfred actually did know what he was talking about. He made sense, which was more than he could ask for in a college course. This course made him feel excitable, to relish the honor and merit of his favorite medium, handing back to it the dignity it deserved.

“Or like in this one episode of Lizzie McGuire,” said Alfred.

Leon blanked immediately.

“There is this one scene I remember,” Alfred said, his eyes widening with nostalgia. “I don’t remember the characters’ names at all, or the plot, or if this was even an episode of Lizzie McGuire, but I’m kind of certain that it was on the TV when I was about ten years old. Anyway, there was a scene where this boy, no idea who he was, maybe he was like, Hilary Duff’s little brother or something? Anyway, he had a dirty nose and his mom was like, you got a dirty nose and when and licked a napkin or something to clean it off, and then it would suddenly cut to an unrelated, non-narrative shot of a lion licking her cub’s face, and then cut back to the mom wiping the dirt off her kid’s face. The lion has nothing to do with the story, but it was edited in there to make a more symbolic comparison, to emphasize the overbearing nature of the mother. Disney Channel was flexing its Soviet montage, baby!”

Alfred sped through several tens other PowerPoint slides that looked like they held vital information. Leon leaned over to the student sitting next to him.

“What the hell is Lizzie McGuire?” he whispered.

“All right, fifteen minute break commences now,” Alfred said, closing his laptop while students desperately scribbled the last of the bullet points with their aching hands. “Second half of class, we’ll get right into the film. Unfortunately, if you graduate from this school with a film degree and not know what the Odessa steps are, you aren’t going to make it out alive in Hollywood or wherever the hell you guys want to go. So we’re going to have to watch some Eisenstein. I’m so sorry, everyone.”

While other students went to use the restroom, or checked their text messages on their phones, Leon flipped through the syllabus for this course once more. He was hopeful that they would watch a John Woo film in this course, which did not seem like a far cry from what Alfred would assign. Apparently, one of their midterms would include writing a paper applying an advanced film theory to Die Hard.

“Come on, kids!” Alfred said. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to stretch your legs. This is a four-hour course, you’ve got all the time to sit around. Don’t you know that sitting is the new smoking?”

He promptly took a bite from a box of Chick-Fil-A strips waiting for him on the podium.

(tbc?)

#hetalia #hetalia au #university au #aph america #aph germany #aph iceland #aph hong kong

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sylvestersrpg · 6 years

Photo

BASICS.

full name: celeste jacquelyn émile. face claim: danielle campbell. gender + pronouns: cisfemale, she/her. orientation: bisexual, biromantic. hometown: avignon, france. occupation: journalist + bartender. employer: whatever weekly + prism. birthday + zodiac: october 30th, scorpio.

HEADCANONS.

Celeste was born in New Orleans, but she was raised by her father in the south of France for nearly a decade and a half of her life; her parents had separated when she was three years old, and while she spent her summers with her mother in NOLA, she spent most of her year just north of Avignon with her father. While his family had grown up in Paris, her father had moved to Avignon when he was old enough to live on his own; his dream had been to own his own vineyard, and after years of hard work he managed to achieve his dream. Celeste spent much of her childhood running through the vineyard while her father worked, even helping him as she grew older; she didn’t share her father’s dream, but she did enjoy her time there. Living both in the States and France helped Celeste develop a fluent knowledge of both English and French; while she feels more comfortable speaking French, she speaks English most of the time because she knows it makes other people more comfortable.

When she was fifteen years old, her father passed away in a fatal car accident. Celeste had been inconsolable for months after her father’s passing. She was sent to Paris to live with her grandparents while her father’s estate worked out what to do with his property. She had wanted to stay in Avignon, but it was decided that she would be sent back to New Orleans to permanently reside with her mother. Living with her mother wasn’t bad. She wasn’t as close to her mother as she had been to her father, but living there helped her cope with the loss of her father. Her parents really had loved one another, and they had tried to make it work in the beginning, but it just wasn’t enough; her mother knew the pain that she was feeling. The problem was that just as she had started to get readjusted to life, Celeste lost her mother as well.

Losing her mother hadn��t affected her in the same way that losing her father had done. Instead of truly grieving over losing her mother, Celeste shut down. She closed herself off from the world for a time, refusing to deal with the loss of her mother. It was decided, once more, that she would stay in New Orleans, though this time she had been sent to live with her mother’s parents much to her dismay; she didn’t know her maternal grandparents, honestly. In her entire sixteen years in the world, she had met them a sum total of four times. At first, living with them hadn’t been too bad. They left her alone for the most part, but the difficulties came in how much they talked about her mother. For someone trying to ignore the loss of their mother, it was pretty much impossible. Angelique Baptiste was freaking everywhere. There were pictures all over the place, and her grandparents consistently talked about Angelique every chance they got; they were the type to talk out their grief, and it was the last thing Celeste wanted to hear. The more they spoke about Angelique, the more Celeste started to rebel in small ways just to get them to shut up.

It started with little things at first. Staying out later than her grandparents’ ridiculous ‘curfew’, hanging out with college boys in the Quarter, sneaking out at night to see guys much too old for her. When that didn’t do too much more than gain disapproving looks from her grandparents, she started doing more drastic things. Underage drinking, drugs, misdemeanors, even getting into fights at school with other people – students and teachers alike. Her actions finally gathered serious attention of her grandparents, but instead of trying to do something about it they tried to impose stricter rules – consistently asking why she couldn’t just be more like her mother had been. The last straw for her grandparents had been when they discovered Celeste’s sexuality. Celeste had noticed years ago that her eyes lingered on both men and women, she had even dated members of both sexes, but it had never really been a big deal to her. When her grandparents found her in bed with a girl from her school, well…it’s safe to say that it hadn’t ended well. That’s when the arguments started and the estranged relationship she had with the both of her grandparents – especially her grandmother – only got worse; her grandfather didn’t speak much to her, but he always seemed kind. Quiet, but kind; he didn’t approve, he had made that clear, but she was still his granddaughter. He could still see his daughter in her. Her grandmother, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. The comparisons to her mother only got more frequent, only now they were joined by various lectures about how she was going to hell, and how if anyone important found out about her ‘dirty little secret’ – as her grandmother called it – it would ruin their family’s reputation.

Celeste’s eighteenth birthday and subsequent graduation from high school could not have come fast enough for her. As soon as she was able to do so, she picked up her life and moved to Los Angeles; she had to get away from New Orleans. Not only was the city a living reminder every day of her mother and what she’d lost, but her grandmother had become absolutely unbearable. She wasn’t really sure what she wanted to do with her life if she were being completely honest, but at least in a city like LA she would be given a wide variety of options. In an attempt to honor the memories of her parents, she enrolled in the undergrad medical program at UCLA; her father had always wanted her to succeed in life, and her mother had worked as a local doctor in New Orleans, catering mainly to lower-income families. The main problem was that the medical field had never really interested Celeste much; she wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps, but it wasn’t for her. Regardless, she stayed on the medical track for a little over two years until the classes started becoming a bit harder – more focused on the degree she was working toward, not just the core subjects required to pass. Eventually, she got to the point where she wondered why she was putting in so much work on a degree for a career that she didn’t really want.

Through a series of trial and error classes in other majors, Celeste finally found a department where she really felt at home. The English department at UCLA was the one place where she felt like she could be herself; honestly, she had never realized how passionate she was about reading and writing until she’d actually started taking the classes more seriously. Soon enough, she chose to major in journalism with a minor in creative writing. College had been harder than she had ever really imagined it would be, but she still graduated a few years later with more than a few good memories from her years at UCLA. The only real problem she had once college was done, though, was that she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life again. She knew she wanted to write, but she didn’t know where – or what for that matter. She had an idea in the back of her mind for her own novel, but she didn’t have the courage to actually start writing the book itself.

Hearing the news that her cousin had recently moved to a town in Rhode Island, having opened up a branch of his father’s law firm, Celeste decided to follow in his footsteps. She could at least stay in the city until she really figured out what she wanted to do with her life. Moving across the country to another city was a little daunting, but knowing that Sebastian was going to be there brought a sense of comfort to Celeste that she hadn’t felt in a while. She hadn’t been entirely close with him growing up, mainly because they hadn’t lived in the same cities, but they had grown close when they were a little older during her stay in Paris after her father passed. They had stayed in contact over the years, and Celeste was thankful to have a member of her family who didn’t judge her for her life choices; if anything, he encouraged her to branch out a bit more. Shortly after moving to Whatever, she picked up a job as a bartender at a local gay bar called Prism; she had worked in a few different bars and clubs while she was living in LA, so working at Prism wasn’t too much of a difference. It was smaller, but Celeste liked it that way. When a journalism position opened up at Whatever Weekly, Celeste jumped at it; it was finally a way that she could put her degree to use. It wasn’t like writing for a major newspaper or anything, but she was still writing. She kept her job at Prism because she loved it, but working for the paper was a right step in her career-path.

Truthfully, Celeste still hasn’t dealt with the death of her mother in a proper way. It’s a subject she actively avoids talking about. She’s never spoken about it, but the main reason she has issues with Angelique’s passing was because of how often she had been compared to her mother. Even growing up, her father had consistently reminded her of how much she reminded him of his ex-wife; she looked just like her mother, though she had her father’s eyes, and she even had a similar disposition to her mother without even truly noticing it. This has led her to wonder whether she’s destined to follow in her mother’s footsteps and be taken from the world at a young age. It’s a bleak outlook on her future, but it’s also something she rarely – if ever – speaks of.

OTHER:

player: michelle, she/her. age: thirty. timezone: cst. blog link: (x)

#accepted #celeste emile #emile bio #female #all

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cecilspeaks · 7 years

Text

115 - Council Member Flynn, Part 2

Paint a picture. It’ll last longer. Welcome to Night Vale.

Councilwoman Tamika Flynn announced this week that she got a new dog. It’s her 17th birthday in just ac ouple of weeks, so her Dad DeAngelo Flynn said she could adopt a puppy. They went to the Night Vale Animal Shelter and Discount Tire Shop. Tamika thought about this sweetheart pitbull named Rosie, but worried about the need to walk and exercise such an active dog regularly. Same with the Blue Heeler mix named Hydrant. The shelter manager suggested a German Shepard named Vincent, but DeAngelo said no daughter of his would have a German Shepherd. He added that even the German Shepherds with all of their hateful teeth and ignorant rage could not save us from the robot uprising. Tamika said she wanted a smaller dog anyway, and she settled on a Pomeranian, whom she has named Lucky. She brought Lucky to City Hall. Standing atop the front steps of the building Tamika, wearing a long black coat adorned with chevrons, a Sheriff’s badge, infantry cords and little flanks of uncooked beef, held Lucky proudly above her head, the way a person who just got a new car might hold it above their head.

Lucky is a light brown dust bunny with hollow yellow eyes and a shrieking little laugh of a bark. Ah, a real cutie! Happy early birthday, Councilwoman Flynn!

An update on the recent spate of robberies and the related deaths of Tristan and Camilla Cortez. The Secret Police have no new leeds toward suspects, but since the 8 PM curfew has gone into effect, there have been no robberies or major crimes of any kind. They have arrested six people in the last two days for being out after 8 PM. But those people were all angels, who were unaware of the curfew and were just walking around trying to ask people for ten bucks. Now that acknowledging of angels is legal in Night Vale, the angels have been making a fortune, by just asking people for cash they don’t actually need, because they’re billionaires. But people are so happy to be able to acknowledge them that it’s worth the few bucks the angels are asking for.

And now sports. The Night Vale Scorpions wheelchair basketball team lost the state pre-season tournament last weekend 81-72 to the Pine Cliff Lizard Monitors. Pine Cliff forward Helen King led all scores with 30, and Night Vale point guard Janice Palmer set a state record in assists, with 22. 22 assists in a game, that’s empirically the most helpful game a Night Vale player has ever had. Y’all, Janice is my niece.

It’s a shame to lose, but it is only the pre-season. There is still a chance to win the division. Unfortunately, I heard from Janice’s dad Steve that Janice is not handling the loss very well. Steve said Janice works really hard to get assists, because she wants to be a leader to help other people score the points, and even though she set a state record in assists, they still lost. Steve said Janice is working even harder on her passing skills and on running the high pick and roll, which is a basketball term that Steve explained to me, and I knew I wouldn’t understand it, so I wrote down what Steve said verbatim. Let’s see. Here’s what he said a “high pick and roll” was. Quote: “So the defender’s guarding, right? Like this! And then an offensive player comes over here like whoosh! And then the ball handler goes like zam! And then they go all and then, whoom!” Well. Best of luck in the regular season, Janice.

Michelle Nguyen, owner of Dark Owl Records, said that her store was robbed several weeks ago, during the height of the robbery spree. She remembers a person coming in wearing a mask, holding a gun, and smelling like fertilizer. They asked for gas, and Michelle gave the thief a velvet sack full of Item nr 4 bank-run gravel, which is her preferred currency these days. The robber then grabbed a stack of LP’s from the new release section and left. Michelle said she didn’t report the robbery because she didn’t really feel like it was a robbery. “It’s not like anyone listens to music anymore,” she said. “Music is dead! If they had stolen the sound of traffic and sirens and low-flying aircraft, I would have felt truly violated. But who’s gonna miss Keith Urban on vinyl?” Michelle added that everything is music and music is nothing. And then she closed the store for the day to go shout poems at passing trains with her friend Maureen.

Tamika Flynn and her new dog, Lucky, have been making appearances across town at local businesses assuring the owners that the town is safe. In addition to her dark coat with its many pins and stripes and medals and cow flesh, Tamika has begun wearing leather riding boots, a tricorn and spike studded knuckle rings. She’s really taken to the politics of her job, bringing along a camera crew to record these positive interactions with her constituents. It should be noted that there have never been elections for City Council in our town’s history. Even Tamika joined the Council through coercion, not campaigning. Perhaps this isn’t just a photo op, perhaps she really does care about the wellbeing of each of her citizens. She might be my new favorite Council member.

Frances Donaldson, owner of the Antiques Mall, said she was so happy to see Councilwoman Flynn in her store. Tamika shook her hand and told her everything would be OK, that she would not let anyone rob Frances of her antiques. “I mean these antiques are cursed as all getout. Anyone tries to touch one of these things, they’ll be living in a psychological terror-scape,” Donaldson said, “but it was nice of the young lady to say so.” Frances then sat by the window and thoughtfully watched the distant plane plass against the sky.

Liesel Schmidt, who owns the auto-body shop near Summerset and Gray, said Tamika stopped by her shop and told her all about how Tamika’s father worked at an automobile factory for decades, until he was laid off five years ago. He’s since run his own dent repair service. Liesel said Tamika really wanted to impress on her the importance of independently run businesses. “I like Tamika,” Schmidt said, “and her little dog too! He ate some of my socket wrench heads, which made him walk slow – ah, that made me laugh. He’s a good dog!”

Well, I’m certainly happy to see Tamika winning over the people of Night Vale. She’s done a lot for this town. But I know the curfew and travel stoppage has been a real strain. It’s good to see her out there, keeping our spirits up.

It’s time once again for Citizen Spotlight. Today’s Citizen Spotlight is on Megan Wallaby. Despite only being born four years ago, Megan just celebrated her 17th birthday this past spring, and will graduate Night Vale High School with honors next May. Megan enjoys athletics and biology classes, and hopes some day to run her own clinic. She wants to go to a university and major in physical therapy next fall, but she’s not sure where that will be just yet. Megan was also on my niece Janice’s basketball team and was the team’s leading scorer. But after the preseason tournament, she has decided to quit basketball to join Tamika Flynn’s Secret Citizens’ Secret Crime Patrol force. Megan never had an inclination toward law enforcement, but she’s not she can afford college. Even if she gets a scholarship, she says there are still books, dorms, food, beer, pet tarantulas, and clothes to buy. Her parents Tuck and Hershel can’t pay for any of that, so she is taking on part time work patrolling the streets after curfew. The team will miss you, Megan, but our streets are safer with you out there. This has been Citizen Spotlight.

A new report from the Mayor’s office shows a significant drop in crime the past two weeks, since Tamika Flynn took over the Secret Police. Councilwoman gave credit to Deputy Sheriff Sam, the entire police force including the Secret Police, Double Secret Police, Obvious Police and Dog Police, and even the Citizen Patrol Force for their extra efforts. Also Tamika said the bloodred buildings everyone helped paint look gorgeous and intimidating.

But it’s not all good news. The Mayor’s report shows a significant increase in traffic accidents, as the police are stretched so thin. Also, since most of the city’s resources are focused on stopping armed robberies of businesses, there have been unrepaired water main breakages, damaged street signs, and understaffed municipal offices. With few available funds and zero economic activity after 8 PM, city-run departments like the Hall of Public Records, the Public Library, and the abandoned mine shaft outside of town, sit empty most days.

The Mayor’s office expressed concern in the deterioration of these buildings for lack of huge, not to mention the inconvenience their closures pose. “Councilwoman Flynn is a tough and decided leader, but how far must we push ourselves away from comfort in order to preserve safety?” Mayor Cardinal said. “Our infrastructure is at risk of erosion if we continue to ignore everything, except law and order. Our emotional health is at risk if we close ourselves off.”

And here the Mayor paused to take a bite of a whole fresh butternut squash. Or, as the Europeans call it, a “yam balloon”. She continued with her mouth full: “I ask Councilwoman Flynn to call back the rest of the City Council from wherever they are so we can hold an emergency meeting to explore better solutions toward reducing crime.”

Listeners, I agree with the Mayor. While I love that there have been no robberies or deaths or arsons in the past several weeks, I would also like to point out that a culprit has yet to surface. The police, under the control of Tamika Flynn, do not even have a suspect. Whoever has done this has certainly been stifled by the strict city ordinances, but how long must we continue hiding in our homes every evening? If the person who has committed these crimes is still in this city, they will certainly start robbing, and maybe even killing once again. Tamika refused the Mayor’s request, saying that the other City Council members do not do well under stress, and that they’ve never been of any help in situations like this. Tamika continued.. Oh! Oh, listeners, I – I’m sorry to break into my own story but I am getting reports that Deputy Sheriff Sam and their Secret Police are in a standoff in the Tepid Sands housing development at the intersection of Skillman Boulevard and Dubois Avenue. Shots have been fired, uh I’m going to find out and report further what is happening. But first, let me take you to the weather.

["TMI" by Josey joseyofficial.com]

The good news is that all of the police officers in this afternoon’s fracas are uninjured. The bad news is that two young women were severely wounded by a librarian. A librarian, in their own home! The girls, Lisa Robertson, 18, and her younger sister Marcia, 15, were at home quietly reading their new copies of Patricia Lockwood’s 2017 spectacularly crafted memoir “Priest Daddy”, when they heard a window shatter. A librarian had smelled the humorous and deft poetics of Lockwood’s impeccable writing and broke in to devour the readers of this sharp and emotional story of religion, family, and toxic masculinity. When the librarian found the two sisters, it attacked. It was not the Robertson sisters’ first fight against a librarian. They, along with Councilwoman Tamika Flynn, survived the summer reading program at the Night Vale Public Library three years ago. They nearly did not survive today’s attack.

It was thanks to Sheriff Sam’s quick response that police were able to stop the librarian from further damage. Unfortunately, the librarian, whose name was Dan McDowell, escaped police custody and is still on the loose.

Tamika Flynn, on behalf of the City Council, still away on vacation until this whole thing blows over, expressed sadness for her injured friends and fellow bibliophiles Lisa and Marcia. The Mayor doubled down on her earlier statements and blamed this tragic attack on a city-wide failure to pay for upkeep of municipal buildings. “There was no one there to lock the librarians’ cages, to feed them regularly,” the Mayor said. “As a city, it is our responsibility to protect life, yes, but also protect a life worth living.” Councilwoman Flynn thanked the Mayor for her comments, but then promptly called for a closing of the port authority. No ships in or out of town. Night Vale has no body of water to speak of, but the occasional freighter or cruise ship does arrive.

Flynn also moved curfew to 6 PM and said no one is allowed within 100 feet of the library, or any bookstore, for that matter. “These days my father only talks about the robot uprising,” Flynn said. “For a long time, I thought he was just being weird. There’s no robot uprising! I have seen advanced robotics, and those things can barely walk. Even my phone struggles to load a basic Google image search for “vaping sloths”. But what if there were robots we do not know about? Metaphorical robots. What if the things we cannot see, cannot predict? Why not be prepared to protect ourselves against –any- enemy?” She added her regret that people would not have access to books anymore, but added that maybe, the city should get everyone a nook. “Is nook still a thing?” Flynn added. “Whatever. Mayor Cardinal, let’s have the city buy everyone an e-reader.” Flynn concluded her speech with: “I know curfew is early, but curfew doesn’t apply to law enforcement. You’re all welcome to join my new Vigilante Citizen Squad. Help us beat the hell out of crime after dark!” Lucky laughed, or barked, it was unclear which, and they both left, Tamika’s spurs rattinglina dn long cape swithing.

The Mayor has appealed to the public for support, stating that once we have a full coroner’s report on the bodies of Tristan and Camilla Cortez, we can engage iun a true investigation, rather than martial law. But given Tamika’s success in eradication the robberies, most people still trust her ability to stop librarians. I mean, battling those things is her specialty. There’s no one better. I’m not really afraid of robbers who target businesses, I mean, who’s gonna hold up a radio station? Or a science lab, where my husband works? But if librarians start believing they can wander anywhere, attack anyone reading any old book by one of America’s foremost poets or word smiths, then they could attack me, or Carlos. Or Steve, or Abby, or Janice. I-I know it seems like I’m scared, but I’m not. Like you, I’m just – wary. Wary of lurking disaster. Plus there’s so much to keep me entertained at home after curfew. It’s not like the 1990’s when the only technology we had was putting on politically satirical puppet shows using rocks with cartoon faces drawn on them. It’s actually enjoyable to turn in early each night. I’ve got an Xbox, a VR helmet, some vegetation that is tootally legal, and Susan Wilman’s HBO Go password, which Steve gripped for me. It’s great!

I don’t know how long we ca keep this up,but for now, I just want to feel safe. Stay tuned next for.. wait, hold on. Oh.. I just received a fax that the coroner’s report has been completed, Night Vale and.. huh. Oh wow! Ooh, you’re not going to like this! You know what, let’s save it.

it’s almost dark, Night Vale, curfew is almost upon us. This will pass as all things will pass. We’re in good hands in Tamika’s hands. If there’s anyone who knows how to protect us from librarians, she does.

Stay tuned next for the sound of two men cuddled up in bed watching the new season of Insecure.

And good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Pull this lever. Don’t worry, you will never know the result.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 115 #council member flynn part 2 #sorry it's so late

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hickorycreekrp-blog · 7 years

Photo

Out of Character:

Name/Alias: Guppy

Pronouns: She/her/hers

Age: 16

Timezone: MST

Face Claim Preferences: Ansel Elgort

Character Basics:

Full Name: Graham Theodore Pendleton-Oswald IV

Nicknames/Prefers: Teddy, Teddy-Graham (by his grandmother, mother, and father), Theo, Graham

Age: 25

Occupation: Office Manager/Internship at the Hickory Creek Town Hall

Pronouns: He/Him

Gender: Cis Male

Hometown: Rose Acres, Hickory Creek, Connecticut

Current Neighborhood: Hickory Square

Highest Education: Bachelor’s Degrees in Communications and Political Sciences (double majored)

Religion: Atheist (family ties to the Roman Catholic Church)

Family and Relationships:

Parents: ( Both Deceased † ) Eleanor “Ella” Rose Pendleton-Oswald (neé Maxwell) and Graham Theodore Pendleton-Oswald III.

Siblings: N/A.

Children: N/A.

Other: Paternal Grandmother (Primary Guardian) - Dorothy Adaline Pendleton-Oswald.

Pets: Cat, Turkish Van/Tabby Mix, named Rosie.

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Romantic Orientation: Biromantic

Marital Status: Single

Personality:

Favorite Film: Roman Holiday (Dir. William Wyler, 1953)

Favorite TV Show: Does not watch much TV, but will more often than not get sucked into shows like Catfish or Big Brother because they are so dramatic.

Favorite Book: “The Outsiders” by S.E. Hinton

Favorite Song: “It’s Your Thing” by The Isley Brothers

Favorite Color: A Darker Periwinkle

Likes: Old jazz and R&B, skateboarding, lacrosse, swing dancing, organization and minimalism, antiques, old movies, the smell of books, collecting beach shells, sweaters, stupid patterned button-up shirts, romantic comedies (and almost every other type of film), friendly competition, overachievement, spontaneity, volunteering, sarcasm, and flirting.

Dislikes: Alcohol, action movies, intimidation (he is not afraid to step up to the plate if confronted, though), mornings, coffee, conformity, bell peppers, disorganization, being stuck at home, loud thunder, and driving.

History:

Not everyone can be as lucky as Graham, he might as well have exited the womb with not just a silver spoon in his mouth, but a crown of gold on his bald, round head, a diamond ring on his chubby, little finger, and a diaper made of one-hundred dollar bills. His family was famous in Hickory Creek, Connecticut for their large fishing company, Oswald Fishing Co., that started as small and singular fishing boat owned by Graham Pendleton-Oswald (the first of four generations). As some of the first to get into the fishing industry within Hickory Creek, they made a fortune. The Pendleton-Oswalds went from nothing to something very quickly. By the time Graham Pendleton-Oswald II was born, his father had built one of the largest mansions in the Rose Acres neighborhood. A lovely colonial manor home, large marble columns, gray bricks, white siding, slate gray window shutters, three floors, and a large garden. Each generation grew up in this house, and when one of the family members had passed on they continued to stay on the property within the personal ash plots within the back courtyard. Fortune was inherited from son to son, each trained to take over the large fishing business they had set up.

Graham was the result of a marriage between Graham “Gray” Pendleton-Oswald III, a son of the Pendleton-Oswald fortune, and Ella, a woman who had grown up in the Dixon Bend area of town. The marriage was looked down upon by every single member of the Rose Acres community, it was blasphemous that someone of such high stature and respect would marry a woman from a dirt poor family. Gray didn’t care how his community felt, Ella had enchanted him with her doe-brown eyes and kind smile. Everything about her was a little piece he grew to love. Ella loved Gray, too, he was charming, a little blissfully ignorant, but full of kindness and respect for her. Due to the fire they were put under by the Rose Acres community, the two eloped near the lighthouse with the witnesses of Gray’s mother, Dorothy, and a couple of their friends that didn’t care about the marriage. A beautiful ceremony led to a beautiful night, which led to the beautiful baby - Graham Theodore Pendleton-Oswald IV.

So, Graham was born into a world of riches. And, although it was not easy for the rich side of the family to accept, he was treated as the next heir to the fortune after his father. Graham’s dad took over the business completely, working day and night to provide for his wife and infant child. The fortune seemed to be growing, marketing developing perfectly, and fisheries still working hard. The family was happy, even when Graham’s grandfather had passed away in his early childhood. Graham’s parents sent him to the best private school; it was a town over, but everyone still knew his name and his status.

He didn’t quite understand his privilege and its full extent… That was until he turned ten. On his parents anniversary, they decided to take a road trip to Providence, Rhode Island. The rain was especially bad that season, flooding on the roads as if they were rivers. Graham was bundled under the thick quilts in his bedroom at the manor, trying to sleep as the thunder crashed and roared outside. The telephone rang out hauntingly from the hallway, a rare occurrence while the rain was this bad - wouldn’t the phone lines be knocked out? Graham’s grandmother’s quiet padding could be heard from the hallway, the next sound is the receiver being taken off the hook. Graham shut his eyes pretending to be asleep, in the case his grandmother walked into his bedroom and saw him awake. He, however, could not ignore the sounds of her muffled cries. Why would his grandmother be crying at a simple phone call?

Graham ran out into the hallway to check on her, the phone was hanging off its cord, dropped from her hand. His grandmother was slumped against the wall, her arm against the wall acting as the only thing supporting her weight. Graham’s voice squeaked out, “Nana?”

Her response was simple enough for him to understand, “They’re not coming back home, Teddy, they’re… gone.”

His family had been washed away by the storm, completely and totally. So had his family’s fortune, because Graham was too young to inherit the fortune, and business, Oswald Fishing Co. was passed onto a distant cousin who lived in Hartford. And, with the business no longer belonging to the true Pendleton-Oswalds, the house was also taken away from Graham and his grandmother. They were forced to take their remaining earnings and invest it into a smaller family home in Hickory Square. Their status was disgraced by their supposed “friends” in Rose Acres. Suddenly, they were viewed the exact same way that Graham’s mother had been viewed when her and Gray had first married. Graham was removed from his private school, where he had been tortured and bullied each day, to a more comfortable public elementary school back in Hickory Creek.

His every want and need were no longer waited on, Graham and his grandma had to build from the ground up. Taking care of their own garden in the small backyard of their house, grocery shopping in fewer quantities and cooking for themselves, listening to vinyls that his grandma had taken from the old house, and saving their remaining funds in every way possible. Investing them in the best places they could.

His parents’ death sparked something dark in him. It took away an innocence that he could never quite have back. Now that he was angry, his grandmother encouraged him to take his anger out in other ways than the fights he was getting into at school, from as young as twelve years old. Soon he became interested in competitive sports like lacrosse, and lesser competitive activities like skateboarding and surfing. On weekends, to keep Graham from getting into trouble at night, his grandmother would keep him inside to teach him some swing dance lessons, watch an old movie or two, or put on her old types of vinyl as they baked some treat to donate to the Hartford homeless shelter on Sundays.

As he grew and changed, by the time he got to high school he became a little superficial just like everyone else. He began to hang out with the self-proclaimed “Lacrosse Kings”, where he went to parties, hooked up with and broke up with several girls, and started to be known as a flirt. Graham had always been in love with love, but in high school, he began to flirt with anything and everything that walked. It was partially charming but somewhat dangerous in the way that he switched girlfriends almost every week. But, as high school went on he let up less and less on the status symbol that being with the lacrosse group gave him. He also continued to help his grandmother because he was afraid to lose her along with his parents.

His simple life continued until Graham’s senior year of high school, where things finally changed a little bit for him. As his end to high school approached, Graham found himself interested in things like the National Honors Society, volunteering at the Town Hall during voting season, working with the Student Council, and participating somewhat in Debate. All of which was topped off by his competitive spirit in all the sports he had played. These activities lead him down a path of a political career. Where he could learn more about bringing his grandma and himself back up to the status they once had. As Graham got older, he cared less and less about losing his place, but he couldn’t help but feel scorned and denied his rights as a part of the Pendleton-Oswald family as the true heir.

The least Gray and Ella could do for their child (in the case something had happened to them) was leave behind a college fund for Graham. This was huge, it allowed Graham to pick his dream university of Harvard in Boston, Massachusetts. He was close enough to home that he could check in on his grandma from time to time, but also focus on his studies. He was doing something his parents would have always wanted him to do - have a go at what he truly loved. He graduated with his bachelor in his double majors of Political Science and Communication, and with minor student loan debt thanks to his parents’ fund and scholarships.

Graham moved back to Hickory Creek on his 23rd birthday, hoping to become something again in the town. He stays in his grandmother’s home, taking care of her in her old age, and also bringing home the bacon by interning and working on office management. As of right now, the job makes him feel more like an errand boy rather than him making some kind of political influence in the town. But, he knows that he is working his way back up to the top slowly but surely.

#ansel elgort fc #character: male #character: 20s #character: hickory square #hickorycreek graham pendleton-oswald

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deadlydagger · 6 years

Text

A BIKE

By Daniel D. Connor

It comes down the street, an old red two-wheel bicycle, carrying a young boy to his destination. What is a bicycle? A toy, an instrument of pleasure, or a transportation device? Maybe all three.

A bicycle could spend its life hanging in a garage but can be nice to have during the summer months. It might be 20-30 years old and ridden only when necessary. It might be such a savored item that its owner would never allow it to be assaulted by rain or mud. Or it could be a workhorse that is laced with grime or grease but still does the job when called upon to carry out its sacred duty. The latter applies to young Danny Connor.

If one is eight years old in a one-car family, one walks everywhere, all the while pleading and praying for a bike. Finally, a bike was mine.

I didn’t know how old it was, nor did I know that its “value” was only $10. It was a priceless companion, providing me with wheels to travel to school, ice cream at Cole’s Pharmacy, vanilla malts at the Dairy Queen, and the A&W Root Beer stand. With it I traveled to see my friends and visited other strange and exciting places outside the confines of my neighborhood. We all had baseball playing cards (pictures of major league players), which we attached with a clothespin to our bicycles so that the cards would flap when, struck by the spokes of the rear wheel sounding like a motorbike.

In the summers of 1947 and 1948, I was eight and nine years old respectively. We lived in the far north end of Columbus, Ohio and my Mother’s sister and her family lived about 10 miles away on Kent Road in Upper Arlington. My courage (or stupidity) and my Mother's bravado coalesced to allow me to ride my bike from home to my Aunt’s house. Mom bought a basket to fit on my handlebars, large enough to hold a sandwich, apple, cookie and a small thermos with some Kool-Aid. I knew the way and my Mother had confidence that I could make it. She counseled me to ride on the opposite side of the road so that I would face oncoming traffic and could avoid it if necessary. I was excited about the idea of going because my relatives belonged to a swimming pool, providing me with the only opportunity to swim in those days. Traffic was not as prolific then as it is now but even so it was a long haul for a little kid to ride. As an adult, I know what my Mother’s thinking was then. She had a 2 or 3 year old to care for (my brother, six years younger) and dumping me off for a few days was welcome relief.

I would ride west on Nottingham Rd., south on Olentangy Blvd., west on Weisheimer Rd. to Henderson Rd., then west on Henderson to Kenny Road, south to Northam, which was only a dirt footpath at the time, then to 2735 Kent Rd. Yay! I always looked forward to approaching the sign marking the border between Upper Arlington and the City of Columbus. Stopping my bicycle with the front wheel in Upper Arlington and my back wheel still in Columbus, I would stand proudly observing that my bike was in two cities at the same time. What a great thrill it was for an eight-year-old to establish this great hallmark in life!

After spending a few days filled with a lot of time at the pool with my relatives, my Mom and Dad would come and pick me up. Even at such a young age, I had a great deal of pride, recognizing the independence that my bicycle afforded to me.

In 1947, I entered third grade at newly opened Our Lady of Peace School, which was about five blocks from my house. Of course, I rode my bicycle to school in the morning and home in the afternoon. I also rode back and forth for lunch. The school was equivalent to a one-room schoolhouse. There were five grades and the third, fourth, and fifth grades all were in one room together. So, as a third grader, I had the advantage of observing the lessons given to the two older grades. But the downside of that was, of a 6-hour day, only two hours were devoted to actually teaching each class. And this really did affect our education, as public school students seemed to have a better grasp of events of the world than I.

Sometime during that third grade year, Sister Lucille asked if any of the boys in the class would like to be an altar boy (to serve Mass for the priest). That evening at dinner, I asked my parents their opinion and they both encouraged me. So the next day I told sister Lucille that I wanted to be an altar boy. This decision had a major impact on my life for the next 10 years.

The reason for this is that I was the only third-grader that was an altar boy. The rest of the altar boys were in the fourth or fifth grade. It was like going through hell week in a fraternity studying to be an altar boy. Consequently, the fourth, fifth graders and I were thrown together in a very intimate way. My best friends were in the fifth grade who took me under their wings. These guys became very strong friends of mine until they graduated, which were three or four years later. I continued to be mentored by one of them, Don Ettore, for a good portion of my young life.

These new friends lived all over the north end of Columbus. So there was a lot of traveling to do in order to maintain contact with them. What a great asset it was for me to have my red bicycle, which allowed me to travel back and forth to their homes, as well as other locations such as the drug store, which was a daily stop for the next several years. But the main destination was school, whether rain, shine, snow or whatever the weather. Mom got me some earmuffs to keep my ears warm, but they seemed to keep the rest of me warm as well. One day, Sister Lucille noticed that I had just a light jacket on, in spite of the chilly weather. When she inquired about not having enough to keep me warm, I told her that as long as I had my earmuffs on, I would always be comfortable.

One day, Sister Lucille had the bright idea of bringing a Columbus police officer to school to advise us as to the safest routes to take to and from school. This was after we had been riding our bikes to school and back each and every day for several years already with no injuries or failures to arrive at school or home. The school was on the east side of High street and some of us lived on the west side of High Street. That means that we had to cross High Street four times in order to go to school in the morning, get home after school and again back and forth at lunch time. Those who lived on the east side of High Street had no problem because they would never have to cross a major thoroughfare like High Street.

So this cop was charged with devising a route to take us safely back and forth between our homes and school. Now, just think about this. Regardless of how we traveled to school and our homes, we were going to have to cross High Street four times. However, the route that the cop devised for me took me south of the school and away from home and then many blocks west of High Street to find some small alley that would take me to my street and then back east to home. The consequence of this was that we would still have to cross High Street twice (morning and afternoon) and twice again (lunch) and go way out of our way each time.

The routes chosen by the police officer were actually less safe and more difficult as well. Nevertheless, your humble servant followed the advice of the police officer and traveled many extra blocks to get home and back to school during the lunch hour. Also, the route from home to school in the morning and returning home at night would require riding for a large number of blocks that were totally unnecessary.

One day, it was raining cats and dogs when the lunch hour started. As we all were heading home for lunch, your humble servant made an executive decision to ignore the cop’s plan and ride directly home so as to spend as little time as possible in pouring down rain and traffic on the city’s streets. This was a precursor of my philosophy of life as I evaluated rules that were either justified or not. If they were not justified, my approach was to either ignore them or to fight against them. This perhaps was the start of this philosophy (however I did refuse to walk like an elephant in kindergarten).

Now meet Pat Wiggins. He was someone who flaunted authority when it was given to him and snitched on others when he had the opportunity. I think that this was the first time that I was confronted with this kind of person.

This rainy day was the first time that Pat Wiggins chose to raise his ugly head by snitching on me. When I returned to school after lunch, soaking wet, Sister Lucille confronted me about the route that I took home and back. Being the honorable person that I was and am, I told the truth – I had gone home using the only route that made sense in light of the terrible weather. I assumed that she would acknowledge my wisdom and compliment me for using it. No chance of that. I was reprimanded and for my punishment would no longer be allowed to ride my bike to school for several weeks. She might be a fox but she could not out smart the super fox!! So the next day I rode my bike up to the drug store and parked it in a narrow opening between the drug store and the post office. This was just a little over one block from school, leaving me with just a short walk. So my Mother saw me ride away each morning, Sister Lucille saw me arrive on foot to school and my trusty steed provided transportation for most of the way. Hot Dawg!!

At some point, I told my Mother of my scheme and she showed no concern whatsoever. She likely agreed that the cop’s advice made no sense.

Well, not to be outdone, Wiggins struck again. He discovered my scheme and blew my cover to Sister Lucille. I was ordered to come to school with my Mother to discuss my transgressions with Sister. When Sister disclosed my plot, I covered for Mom as she expressed some surprise at my conduct. I was already banned from riding my bike to school so that was removed from Sister’s ability to punish me. My memory is a little foggy about what was done but I think the two of them decided that this fiasco had gone on long enough and made me actually walk to school for perhaps a week or so and then call it a day. Kind of a victory for a lesson learned, not about misconduct or discipline, but about sleazy people, like Wiggins, who act like a friend but carry a sharp dagger that will fit neatly between two of your ribs.

Forward a few years. It is Christmas Eve and I am traveling downtown to shop for my parents’ gifts. I rode my bike up to the hardware store right behind the location where I had hidden my bike referred to above. There was a kind of cubbyhole right next to the hardware store that was pretty secure. So I parked the bike there and headed downtown on the bus to splurge for my parents. I should mention that, before I left home on my bicycle, my Mother warned me that it was probably dangerous for me to leave my bike at the corner near the bus stop because there had been some theft of bicycles recently. (She probably set this up just to play into what was to come later that day). I assured her that it was no problem as I had done this many times.

Late in the afternoon, with the sun waning at day’s end, I hopped off the bus and went to retrieve my bike, only to find it missing! I asked the owner of the hardware store if he knew what happened to it and he disclaimed any knowledge of it. So I not only had to walk home but also had to face the loss of my bike, compromising my future and my very existence!

As my Dad told the story many times, when they looked up the street to see me walking home, there I was, walking slowly, head down and looking lower than a snake’s belly. Needless to say, it was a bad way to start the Christmas “celebration.”

I decided that the only thing that would make this Christmas worthwhile at all was if my Mom and Dad liked the presents that I got them. As we hustled down the stairs Christmas morning, under the tree was the most beautiful, shiny green Schwinn bike, which at that time was reported to be the classiest ride there was. Somehow, I forgot all about my fabled ride of yesterday and was later told that Dad had gone to the hardware story to get it, sold it for $10, and told his friend who owned the store not to give away his secret.

My new bike was the best ever and served me well until I was old enough to drive. Another lesson learned: don’t make a judgment about an event, good or bad. Give it some time and it might turn out better than you expected.

#bike #bicycle #travel #school #christmas #surprise #gift #loss

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ask-de-writer · 6 years

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Daring Do and the Adventure of the X'ibian Vase : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 15 of 21

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