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rosesaints · 11 months

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help wanted ! chapter three.

pairing: miguel o’hara / f!reader summary: your first week on the job. rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: oral (f! receiving) series masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

There’s no comprehensive and all-encompassing instruction manual for parenting. You could make a point about the parenting books that you could easily snag off the bookshelves of your local library, but they’re not always effective.

Every child is unique, and what works for one child might not work for another. Parenting manuals often provide general advice and strategies, but they don’t always address the specific needs, temperament, or circumstances of an individual child or family. Parenting is also a deeply personal experience, and different parents have different philosophies, values, and parenting styles. What one parent finds effective or important may differ from another.

You took a quick glance from the comfort of your living room over to your next-door neighbor’s front yard and see that they’d progressed from soccer to softball and now… volleyball, it appeared, in the course of one Sunday morning. Little Gabi O’Hara seemed to have boundless energy and a penchant for the most active range of hobbies a five-year-old could possibly have, and it was only ten in the morning.

She was receiving, diving, and scrawling around the grass frantically, happy as can be, as Miguel set the ball to her side of the yard, steadfastly coaching and guiding her through the motions. Faintly, you overhear him yelling words of encouragement, and when Gabi saves a particularly difficult ball, you watch as he runs excitedly over to her to pick her up about his shoulders and whooping in glee. “¡Qué orgullosa estoy de mi hija!”

You fought the urge to celebrate along with them and tried to concentrate back on what you desperately needed to get done before Monday sneaks up on you. You’re not a parent, but if you were going to be in charge of watching, protecting, and caring for Miguel’s pride and joy, you had some reviewing to get done.

Miguel O’Hara probably didn’t need a manual or a guide to learn how to parent. It came naturally to him, took hold, and became second nature. It’s evident in the way Gabi hangs onto him like a lifeline.

Now, you know deep down that you wouldn’t be able to replicate what made him a good dad, wouldn’t even dare to try, but it was a good thing you only had one job: to babysit for a summer. And manuals and guides for babysitting happened to be a lot more useful and concise about what to expect in your new role.

Forty-five dollars later, you were signed up for an online Babysitting & Advanced Child Care Certification. You were well aware that this course was usually reserved and taken by eleven-year-olds, took it yourself almost ten years ago, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

You didn’t take it half as seriously back then as you did now. (It was really not that deep.)

As four hours passed, you gradually checked off lessons in basic first aid and CPR (Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees was a very good point of reference ), developing age-appropriate activities (though you probably could’ve just looked out your window to see more of what Gabi was interested in), behavior management (she was also an avid fan of your mom’s blueberry muffins), and business and professionalism skills.

Now where do you even begin with your last lesson?

Your mother had done the brunt of negotiating this job for you, overselling you and your skills heavily, so you were covered in the marketing aspect of the “business.” Everything else in the lesson were skills you learned early on in college and through common sense, so you felt confident in that aspect. The real struggle was under the bullet point:

Professionalism.

The memory of him was still fresh; red marks just beginning to turn purple on the flesh of your skin as you replay the way he told you he would wait for his decision with a patient and composed tone, but his hands betrayed him, drifting down low to your thigh, the downright inappropriate way in which he looked down at you, intense brown eyes that seemed to intensify in a reddish hue.

Uncertainty bloomed in your chest reluctantly, concerns beginning to fester like wildfire.

Now, unfortunately, since the course was designed for pre-pubescent individuals, you were a little bit at a loss. What exactly was the proper etiquette for working with what was meant to be a one-night stand?

Googling “what to do if you slept with your boss/neighbor accidentally before you start the job,” ended up being fruitless since most of the searches came up with oversleeping and arriving late, attempting to salvage it with a quick, additional search through r/AITA: “what to do if job included taking care of one-night stand’s daughter,” and then frantically looking up: “how does someone become good at three different sports in one afternoon” in a panic-induced haze.

There was no right answer, it seemed, other than to wait it out and see. That last question was a long shot anyway.

You ended up passing your certification with flying colors with relative ease, sighing with relief as you finally shut your computer off for the day. By the time you finished, the sun had begun its descent, warm daylight receding quickly from the living room you had locked yourself into to try and get the exam done. At that point, Gabi and Miguel had concluded their front yard practice hours ago and you let your mind wander, thinking about how summer was going to go.

Last summer, you were barely home, too preoccupied with thoughts about your future and your engagement, and your internship. The world seemed impossibly vast, and everything was going so fast, way too fast for your liking but you made yourself push through it.

Sitting cross-legged in your living room, listening in on your parents bickering over the right seasoning proportions as you thumbed through a babysitting certificate, you found this was a lot better. Peaceful.

Sleep came easily and softly, this time with no dreams of your next-door neighbor.

When you knocked on the door of the O’Hara house for the second time that week, you felt a bit more prepared, but your fingers still fiddled with the hem of your dress. Your room currently looked like a warzone, having spent a good chunk of your morning deliberating on what to wear, and you had settled on a well-worn and familiar dress, but you were starting to have doubts.

It was early–cars were only just beginning to pull out of their driveways, rushing off to work and you could still feel the mist lingering in the air. Miguel had texted you the night before and told you to pop in around 8 AM before he headed off to work an hour later.

You considered knocking again before the door opened, and Miguel lit up at the sight of you. Compared to you, he looked relaxed, eyes crinkling softly around the edges as he invited you in. “Come on in, Gabi’s still asleep.”

Gingerly, you followed him through the house with padded footsteps, careful not to make any noise as he leads you into the living room. He gestured for you to sit as he walked back into the kitchen, and you were left to examine your surroundings. Once again, spotless—and was that a signed guitar by Llewyn Davis?

Miguel returned with two mugs of coffee and some cream and sugar, chuckling as he noticed what you were staring at. “I see you’ve noticed the infamous guitar. I don’t really play all that often anymore, because of work and Gabi, but it has good memories.”

“It’s gorgeous,” You sighed breathlessly. “How in the world did you get it signed?”

You spent a few minutes going back and forth with him about music, “you were in two punk bands in high school?,” to which he rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the small smile that lingered as he brought his mug of coffee back to his lips, “I had a lot of pent up tension back then.”

There were a few other things you went over with him, like Gabi’s bedtime (he usually tried to be home by the time she had to go to sleep but work sometimes prevented him the opportunity so he makes sure to stay until Gabi woke up in the morning), potential allergies or dietary restrictions, if she could go over to your house, visits with Abuela, and little lessons and habits that he had picked up in the five years as Gabi’s dad.

One thing you learned was that he was very thorough; there were phone numbers stuck to the fridge in the event that anything went wrong, emergency contacts a mile long being added to your phone, a list of preferred hospitals and clinics in the area, and maybe excessively, a list of soccer parents to avoid at grocery stores, playgrounds, and practices.

You had raised an eyebrow at that last point. “What, did you have an argument with a mom at Bed, Bath, and Beyond or something?”

“I might get a little too competitive when Gabi’s playing soccer.”

“Miguel,” You tried to resist the laughter bubbling up your throat at the mental image of Miguel going wild at a little league soccer game. “They’re five. How competitive do you have to be?”

When the hour was getting close to done, and after making more fun of Miguel to your delight, he looked down at his watch, eyes lowering slightly in disappointment. “It’s about time for me to head to work, and I wanna go wake up Gabi before I have to go,” Miguel stood up, and you couldn’t help but stare as he stretched, lean muscles rippling underneath the fabric of his button-up, shirt riding up just right as you caught a glimpse of tan, sunkissed skin—

Focus.

If he noticed you staring, he didn’t mention it, but you could see the small traces of a smug smile as he turned away from you to head to Gabi’s room. On the way, he pointed out other rooms, his office, where to go do laundry, and a guest bedroom if you ever needed it, though you reminded him that you did only live a good ten feet away from his house.

Before you went in, Miguel knocked softly, opening the door to a bright, blue bedroom. It’s a gorgeous room, filled with various posters of the sports and cartoons that Gabi loved, a bunch of toys that were still strung out on the floor, and there’s a picture of her and Miguel on the nightstand from Disneyland, with Gabi as a baby wearing lopsided Mickey ears as he beamed proudly at the camera.

He pushed in first, sitting down on Gabi’s bed then he leaned in closer, whispering a gentle “it’s time to wake up, Gabi.” The sound, barely audible, wafted through the room as she slowly stirred, warm honey-brown eyes still drowsy.

“Well, good morning,” Miguel greeted. “¿Lista para empezar el día?”

Gabi nodded as she sat up, still practically half-asleep, rubbing her sleepy eyes with tiny fists. When she noticed you standing by the doorway, she smiled, waving softly, but still focused her attention on her dad. “¿Vas a trabajar?"

Miguel hummed in response, and then looked back at you. “Promise not to cause too much trouble to your babysitter today?”

“No promises,” Gabi grinned and you thought Miguel might as well explode on the spot with pride.

You and Gabi stood at the porch as Miguel pulled out of the driveway, Gabi on your hip as she waved frantically, blowing kisses to the outline of his car as you waved too, laughing as Miguel blew his own kisses back to the two of you.

There was no trouble with getting Gabi settled with breakfast, having decided on a generous helping of eggs and toast. You got her meal ready as she started setting a volleyball back and forth, hands still clumsy and slippery with inexperience, but she asked you a series of rapid-fire questions as you flipped over her eggs.

“Do you play sports?”

“I used to, a long time ago, but I’m afraid I’m nowhere near as good as you are. I can set some volleyballs over to you later if you want,” You replied as you set the egg down on her plate. At that, Gabi cheered and made her way over to you, little hands reaching for her food.

“Last week, my dad hit his toe on one of my legos and he accidentally said a mean word. I don’t think he knew I heard him. Can you tell him that’s not appropriate?”

“I’ll relay the message,” You tried your best to stifle a laugh from her innocent, mindless questions. You’ll definitely bring that up with Miguel later.

“Can your mom make some more blueberry muffins?”

“You know what,” Your eyes lit up as a light bulb flickered above your head. “Why don’t we just show you?”

Gabi absolutely adored your mom—those two had latched on to each other more than you thought in your disappearance, and she was hanging off every one of your mom’s words as she explained how to prepare the muffin batter, as you took little pictures to send over to Miguel with flour on the tip of her nose and fingertips sticky with batter she was caught sneaking bites from. The last part was gross, but still, admittedly cute.

You had a mental checklist prepared (courtesy of your little certificate) of things you should prioritize when babysitting. The first one was responsibility: Babysitters must prioritize the safety and well-being of the children in their care. They should be reliable and trustworthy.

Of course, you had to rein in a few of your mom’s liberties as she snuck some more bites of the batter to Gabi, sighing exasperatedly as you had to explain the risks of salmonella to your own mom. Not that it stopped you from taking small swipes at the batter either.

Your first day was a soaring success, the day well spent with baking and a trip to the park in the beautiful weather, letting Gabi run around and cause havoc for a few hours before the sun began to set. Lots of photos and updates were texted to Miguel, another bullet point in your checklist, namely communication: Effective communication with both children and parents is essential. Babysitters should be able to understand and engage with children, as well as provide clear updates and instructions to parents.

Miguel responded to each of them in kind with personalized messages, watching with bated breath as he saved the one of you and Gabi grabbing ice cream by an ice cream truck.

Gabi was knocked out and tucked in by the time Miguel got home from work, and you were waiting on the couch, watching intently as he walked through the door, loosening his tie with a relaxed sigh. He settled next to you on the couch, voice velvety and smooth as he greeted you. “Hey. Did you guys have fun?”

There was a natural ease to your conversation, and you took the opportunity to ask him more questions about music, and his work, and let him try the new muffins Gabi had made while he asked his own questions in kind, about what you liked to do, what made you decide to go back home.

You were both halfway through laughing and snortling as you had explained the one time you had attempted to sneak into your university library, to no avail as the near-hundred-year-old security guard had caught you almost immediately.

Miguel’s eyes softened, the edges of a laugh softly settling into a smile as he gazed at you, the room feeling smaller, lighter. “I’m really glad you went back.”

“Me too,” You smiled in return, head leaning into the crook of your arm. “I mean, who else is going to make fun of you for getting way too passionate about five-year-olds playing soccer? Like come on, you did not have to get her minivan towed just because her kid sidestepped Gabi in a game.”

“Oh, I absolutely did.”

The rest of your week passed in a whirlwind. Gabi was a really easy kid to watch, you really couldn’t take that much credit. She took every activity you threw at her with the easygoing nature of a five-year-old with not many qualms, and it made things so much easier, but of course, you didn’t want to just barely do your job. Case in point, creativity: Great babysitters often come up with fun and engaging activities to keep children entertained. They can think on their feet and find creative solutions to challenges that may arise.

On your second day, you spent the day with her running around the block, showing her various sights and spots you had frequented when you were a kid, answering her curious questions in stride, and ending your little adventure with some waffles at your hometown restaurant. You delighted in the way Gabi practically squealed at the amount of whipped cream.

Of course, your next priority was patience: Dealing with children requires patience, especially when they are upset. Babysitters remain calm and handle difficult situations with composure. Gabi had a sugar rush the moment the two of you left the restaurant, and you had to deal with the fallout.

“Oh my god, Gabi, look both ways before you cross the street!” You didn’t think you could handle a lawsuit from her father.

The next couple of days were a lot more relaxed; as rambunctious and active she was, sometimes she could just use a day of lounging around the couch, binging various movies and asking you your favorite parts about them, eyes twinkling in curiosity as you explained the mechanics of some of the animation in the cartoons you watched.

Miguel would occasionally come back for lunch or return with some takeout after work, and you were able to cycle through various restaurants that had opened up in your time away from college, eager to talk through a lot of them and give him your opinions.

The whole time, he remained warm and welcoming, innocent glances across the dining table, a far cry from the man you had hooked up with a week ago.

At one point, your hands gestured wildly and your mouth ran on fire as you tried some spicy pozole that Miguel and Gabi urged you to try. You hadn’t noticed the simultaneous way their heads had tilted to the side, flashing equally mischievous smiles.

Guzzling milk as you glared at the both of them (at Miguel, more than Gabi), as Miguel struggled to contain his laughs, breathlessly wheezing as he wiped some stray tears that had gathered in his eyes. “Did we not tell you there were some ghost peppers in there?”

“No!”

Friday came around much sooner than you expected, and at that point, you had settled into a routine.

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow through the windows as both of you plopped down on the couch. You were both exhausted from a day of running around and kicking a soccer ball in the front yard, and you had endured your fair share of kicking the ball and missing the goal by several feet for Gabi’s sake. With messy hair and rosy cheeks, you had tucked Gabi in under a cozy blanket, flipping through the channels until you eventually landed on something that you had started just a couple of days before.

Before long, Gabi had fallen asleep, and you had moved her to her bedroom without much fuss, ready to go settle in the living room and wait for Miguel to arrive. On your way down, you noticed his office door was slightly ajar, and you went to close it until something caught your eye.

Against your better judgment, you pushed your way in, surveying the state of the room. There were books scattered everywhere, old files and papers haphazardly set around his desk. A few articles of his old works were framed on the wall, and in photos, he seemed more constricted. Less free, more serious, dark brown piercing eyes judging you as you walked around his office.

What caught your eye, in particular, was a photo of Miguel with two other individuals, one of them you could only assume was his brother, due to their similar eyes and smile, and in between them was a woman with blue eyes and brown hair, a similar shade to Gabi’s.

Before you could ponder on the similarities further, you heard the door to the office crack open, and spinning around wildly to see Miguel standing at the doorway.

In your concentration, you missed the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and Miguel stood, blanketed by the light of the hallway, in sharp contrast to the dark that shrouded the room. You felt guilty, small like a child caught dipping their hand into a jar of cookies. To your surprise, Miguel merely flickered the light switch on, eyes carrying the weight of fatigue. “Is Gabi asleep?”

You sheepishly nodded, folding your hands behind your back as you struggled to come up with an explanation. “Listen—”

“Come with me,” Miguel’s voice was calm, carrying none of the backlash you were expecting. “Let’s talk.”

In the kitchen, Miguel poured a couple of glasses of wine, offering one to you as you accepted. He let out an exhausted sigh before composing himself, back to the easygoing and light smile you had begun getting accustomed to that week. “How was she today?”

And just like that, the tense air in the room lifted as easily as it came in, as you went through the motions of the day, watching as he gradually lost the slump in his shoulders and the lines on his face that told the story of a demanding day.

Whatever it was, you didn’t want to pry, especially after having been caught looking through his belongings.

“You’re a natural, you know that?” Miguel’s eyes shined with admiration. “She adores you, tells me all about your days when you’re gone.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t fight the smile that bloomed across your face, chest constricting at the praise. “Well, I really couldn’t take that much credit. She's a really easy kid to watch, she practically lost it when I took her to go get some waffles the other day.”

He smiles, full and unrestrained this time, and you share a few more stories about your week, ignoring the flush in your cheeks when he would quip in with his own stories from when Gabi was younger. Gabi was his whole life and he adored her wholeheartedly; in pictures, before she was born, you could tell that something was lacking, something missing when his smiles wouldn’t reach his eyes.

“So, what’s your secret?” Miguel cocked an eyebrow. “How’d you get the hang of it the way you did? It took a while for Gabi’s old babysitter to get used to how active she is. I’ve never seen her latch on to someone so quickly.”

“I… I did a babysitting certificate online that was meant for middle schoolers.” Thank you, Babysitting and Advanced Child Care Certification. Your laughter spilled on in bursts without even thinking about it, and you gasped for breath about the absurdity of learning more things by completing a small babysitting certificate over your college diploma. “If you need a better manual for parenting, look no further. Those eleven-year-olds have it cracked.”

“Is that so?” Your laughter was contagious, and before long, Miguel had joined in.

You nodded, still proud of your little achievement. “ Mhm. There’s four,” pausing to hold up four fingers. “Four key values.”

“Well, shoot, now I have to know. What are they?” Miguel leaned forward just slightly, and you ignored the way your heart swelled at the small motion, his proximity rapidly unthreading the small resolve you had left.

“There’s responsibility, then communication, creativity—that’s an underrated one—-and patience,” Listing them off felt a little bit silly, now that you looked back, but you continued. “It’s like, the four commandments of babysitting.”

“So which one do you think is the most important?” He looked down at you, and everything seemed heightened, more focused. Dark brown lashes fanned his cheekbones, skin warm and dusky against the contours of his face as he stared back at you. “Responsibility, communication, creativity, or… patience ?”

You knew the implications behind his words, this line that you were dangerously close to crossing over. “Patience.”

Miguel’s pupils dilated then, humming his approval at your words. At that point, the sun had fully set and you had lost track of the time. Without thinking, the words came tumbling out before you could even stop and consider the weight of them. Recklessly and impulsively, you took the leap. “Do you remember what happened a week ago?”

“Of course, I do. You think I’ve forgotten about you?” Miguel’s eyes darkened, voice dropping an octave as you suddenly felt very, very hot. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, cariño.”

He stood before you, all broad expanse of shoulders and muscle, and you’re reminded of the events of last week all over again, remembering how strong he felt underneath your fingertips. “What do you want?”

You didn’t need to answer, just leaned in and took his lips in yours, long wait finally over and you were falling apart like honey in his arms as you felt him push you against the cool marble of the counter, his warmth in sharp contrast to the cold pressing against your back. He tasted exactly the same, bergamot and crisp green leaves, patchouli, and vetiver. Fuck, you were addicted to it.

Your moans filled the quiet of the kitchen as his mouth moved lower, light and feathery kisses peppering the side of your neck, going over the bruises mapped on your skin left just a week before, sucking and kissing new ones in his wake.

“I wanna see you fall apart,” Miguel murmured, hot breaths fanning your neck as if in a trance. “Wanna watch you cum on my fingers again, wanna taste you.” All you could do was nod. Yes, yes, please—do whatever you want.

He returned to your lips, needy and unconstrained. You let your hands wander, disappearing into his neat, put-together curls just as Miguel bit down on your bottom lip, the sudden pain making you twist your fingers into his hair and tug. A low, rumbly sound vibrates against your mouth, his fingers pressing harder into your hips and then he’s hoisting you up on the counter.

One of his hands makes its way underneath your skirt, fingers skirting along the edges of your underwear as you whined, pleading for him to touch you where you needed him. You could feel his mouth nip at your skin and you clammed up like putty, as he pushes your complaints back down. “Patience,” he chastised, going even slower than before.

Minutes feel like hours as he held you there, hand cupping your face as if you were his salvation, proof that he wanted, no, needed this just as much as you did, had been crippled with thoughts of each other since the moment you had walked into his house. “Good girl. That’s it. You going to keep being good for me?”

Shaking your head yes, unable to formulate words at the way he gazed at you, definitive and ready to take the pleasure he had just begun if you stepped out of line.

Slowly, he knelt in front of you, slithering down your body and you feel exposed, goosebumps rousing in your skin as he kissed up the length of your thigh, grabbing onto your underwear and tugging it down with an easy confidence.

Miguel’s breathing adoration into your cunt and you felt like you were on fire, going crazy with his greedy back and forth, not quite reaching you where you needed him. His voice was clear and definitive, a stark difference to yours. "Tell me what you want."

You’re babbling, words merging and rolling off your lips with an uncontrolled force, and you’re not even sure if you’re making any sense, not entirely sure if you even cared. “Please. Please, Miguel, I’m begging you, do something—”

His thumb started to draw slow circles as he slowly stroked the lips surrounding your mound. You were sure that you were positively dripping, going slick around him as you keened under his touch. His mouth watered and Miguel decided quickly that using only his fingers simply will not do, nowhere near enough.

Something in your brain snapped as he pushed your skirt up, looking ravenous as he inspected you, still teasing, not quite playing with you just yet. And then, you felt his hot mouth exactly where you needed him, licking one strip, from base to top of your cunt, just to taste.

Oh my god.

You were leaning back on your shoulders, struggling to hold your body weight as he continued to explore you, and you just allowed yourself to feel it, really feel it, and let him do whatever he wanted to you with his tongue—letting him lazily slide it over your clit, tracing the soft skin of your inner thigh with his canines, occasionally allowing you the pleasure of letting it migrate inside your cunt, tasting, feeling, wandering around until you were dizzy and delirious.

The kitchen sounded absolutely filthy, filled with the sound of the slick of your pussy and the criminal way that he ate you out, moaning and groaning when he knew he found a spot that just wrecked you. Praises fell from him in short, Spanish increments, taken with the way you begged and leaned your cunt closer to his face as if you even had any remote say in his demonstrations.

His hands snaked around your hips, pressuring you to move even closer to him, leaving you with no room to escape, not that you would ever even want to, no. Not with the way he was fucking you on his tongue, not with the way the rough skin of his five o’clock shadow stimulated you further, forcing you to feel everything so much more.

There was nothing innocent about the way he growled into your cunt, then, “Cum for me, baby, please. I wanna taste you. ‘M starving. Just look at you.”

And then you were crooning, gasping as he went faster with his ministrations, wondering how in the world he had so much vigor, so much stamina, and then you gave him what he wanted, legs shaking and tightening around his face as he only held you harder, working you through it.

“Oh my god,” You let out another breath, head still spinning. “Miguel—”

His tongue was still hungry when it slipped back into your pussy, still desperate and needy for the taste of you as if you didn’t just cum mere seconds ago.

"I can't— I can't—"

Everything was so heightened, so close in such a short time to the pinnacle that he had you pinned under for what had felt like hours. This time, he was rougher, more impatient as he plunged two fingers inside of you. You resisted the urge to scream, biting down on your palm as tears well in your eyes, too taken with the pleasure he was lost in.

"You can't? Oh, I think you can. Give me another one, dulzura.”

And then you were rolling your hips, frantic as you sobbed, practically riding his face and you whimpered in ragged and staggered breaths. But once he pressed his rough thumb to your puffy clit, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came apart for the second time that night.

Slowly, you regained your bearings, pushing yourself up from the counter as you looked down to see Miguel still licking, cleaning you off. To your surprise, he was grinning, satisfied with only giving you a brief reprieve. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

This was not in your post-grad plan, but honestly? You were starting to warm up to it.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #mdni #miguel o'hara smut

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celestie0 · 22 days

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please share your thoughts on vinland saga. what is your favorite character, scene...? what is something you learnt through it?

omgogmogmgmggogm ty for this ask anon also so sorry it took me a while to get around to but i appreciate it i loooove vinland saga sm n i’d love to talk more ab it 😭🫶🏼💕 n if you’ve seen the show too i’d love to know ur answers to those questions as well aaa :””)

my favorite character for suuurrree is thorfinn :”) he is my sweet summer child, the apple of my eye, the kindest of all, my son, my heart, my treasure, my love, i adore him sm there are times where i think of him n i just start tearing up out of nowhere. imma sound so fkn insane when i say this but i really truly believe he exists in my hearrrtttt 😭💕 like he has to, there’s no way these feeligns of adoration i have for him have not manifested on some physical realm i just love him sosososooso much sobs he is my favorite fictional character of all time n i wish i could smooch makoto yukimura very gingerly on the cheek for bringing such a beautifully well written character to life. his determination to become a better person, live true to his ideals, and create safe haven for others is srs so inspirational to me i love him sm

[panels colored by @/hawta_mahmood on insta]

i would literally commit war crimes for him LMFAO (even tho that’s the opposite of what he would want anyone to do for him haha)

as for what i’ve learned n my fave scene(s) i will add a keep reading bc spoilers and also it’s gonna be really fuckin long 💀

what have i learned from vinland saga? dear god, so much. i could talk about this show for hours, HOURS, and i have before!! it is just that dense in philosophy n had my head spinning from all the reflections

of course, there is the infamous line in the show ‘i have no enemies’, which i think can mean a lot of different things to different people, in thorfinn’s case it is the line that allows him to adopt a life of tranquility n pacifism. i think for me, this line taught me to assume the best in people, and once i started doing that i think i learned how peaceful n meaningful life can be. for example, if i interact with a rude person or am fighting with someone i care about, and i am affected emotionally by it, i might think of that lesson from the show and i feel free in knowing that i have no one who i desire to hurt or retaliate against or even harbor negative feelings towards in my head(the saying comes to mind to think or speak negatively about others is to poison yourself) as someone w a lot of fuckin anxiety it’s very liberating to think that way, and i think that’s the biggest lesson i’ve learned from the show (among many, many, many others. i think another big lesson is obviously the subject of forgiveness, both in others and in oneself, but this post will end up being too long if i go into depth of all the things i’ve thought ab while watching vinland saga)

as for my fave scenes, i’ll try to just pick three 😭😭😭

1. end of the prologue. the scene when askleadd dies was so beautifully done. the moment where in his final moments, he urges thorfinn to rethink his life and what he wants from it, and to follow in his father’s footsteps. askeladd was such a cruel, violent, and objectively horrible person n was the cause of thorfinn’s journey of hatred in the first place, and yet in his final moments somehow his words to thorfinn did not feel out of character. that was the moment where i realized wow, this author knows what tf he’s doing and is truly so talented. to have a character’s traits sneak up on you like that, built so subtly throughout the show, so that the payoff feels so real and fitting and not forced, driving the direction of the story in the way we had been hoping for the whole time. fuuuckckf. also, quick mention of the scene where thorifnn finally lets go of his dagger n all the scenes from season one flash by on the metal. fuck. i cry EVERY. TIME.

2. i mean it’s a given, but the scene when thorfinn finally understands his father’s words and admits to a circle of bloodlust vikings that they are not his enemies, and that he has no enemies. what a wonderful full circle moment for his character arc, i get chills just thinking about it

3. this one may be a bit more random lol, but the episode that will forever stick in my memory is gardar’s backstory episode. fuck i could writr a ten page essay about this one twenty minute episode ALONE, but i’ll just pick out the one scene that just kills me. the scene where gardar helplessly watches himself in the past, as he leaves arnheid & hjalti, and there’s nothing he can do to stop himself. fucking hell. if there’s any scene that i think could perfectly show what a feeling of regret is like, that would be the scene, and what fucks me up so much about that scene is how he cannot even manage WORDS. he is a grown man, reduced to intelligible sounds because his pain is so profound and his guilt runs so deep that it is like he becomes all but a helpless child. just kill me, seriously. i had never cried so hard in my LIFE watching anything than in that episode. i sobbed so hard i had hiccups n my sleeves were covered in snot. but the ending, when he got to see his son again in the afterlife n he was the age that he wouldve been if he was still alive :”) my god. yukimura nails anything that has to do with father son dynamics, im sure its because he has a few boys of his own, and his love for his children is so evident in his writing. but also, the fact that he was able to make me feel SO MUCH for a character we hardly knew anything of, and also to use a character that the audience is not very familiar with to tell a story that i think almost everyone on this planet could relate to in some capacity (things we want to change n wish we could go back to do so…) just what a genius genius creative decision like he is just such a wonderful writer i appreciate him so much 😭😭😭

god, all of s2 is honestly my favorite scene LMFAO. the whole entirety of it is a masterclass in story telling. imma just do a quick few more of my fave scene shoutouts tho 😭

thorfinn getting his ear sliced by fox, thorfinn calling einer his brother, thorfinn climbing his way out of valhalla, thorfinn telling arnheid about vinland before she passed away, snake revealing the truth behind ketil’s name, thorfinn reuniting with his mother again. god just all of it. i swear, just all of it.

GAT DAYUM THIS IS LONG but idgaf i’d talk about this show until i draw my last breath lmfaooo thank u anon for this ask im clearly insane 🤣🤣🤣 ur probs like im never sending this bitch an ask ever again LMFAO just joking but srs i appreciate it i had a lot of fun answering :””) i just love this show so much

#i am clearly unwell over this show #the fact i wrote this much n could write literally HEAPS more #this show is a masterpiece #i will never shut up about that #vinland saga #thorfinn #einar #askeladd #anime #manga #anime review #anime recommendation #manga recommendation #manga review #asks #anon

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acquariusgb · 5 months

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Billary Fic Drabble advent calendar: Day 5 Day 5: Meeting Family

Bill was nervous as he stepped out of his car and onto the driveway. It was not the first he had found himself in front of this house, but this time it was different. During their pitstop in summer, he had been the new guy who was going to drive their daughter to California and spend time there while now he was the man living with her and in a serious relationship.

He didn't even have the time to knock on the door that it flew open and he saw a figure rushing outside. He immediately recognized the feeling of being in her arms and he put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"Did you miss me?" He said with a smug tone.

Hillary let go of him and lightly smacked his arm.

"I'm not sure how she could, considering how often she called you." Her brother Tony commented from the doorway "Mum and Dad will have a fit when they see the phone bill."

Hillary rolled her eyes. "It wasn't that bad"

"Oh, it was." Hugh agreed with his brother as he joined them outside.

Bill took his bag from the trunk and then put his arm around Hillary. "Let's go inside." He noticed she wasn't wearing a coat. “It’s cold outside"

Tony chuckled. "You can tell he's a Southerner. This is nothing for us."

Dorothy was waiting for them. “Welcome, Bill.” the older woman greeted him with a smile.

“Thanks for having me over or a couple of days., Mrs. Rodham.”

“Oh, call me Dorothy and it’s really no problem. It gives us the opportunity to get to know the man in our daughter’s life better.” She sent Hillary a mischievous glance.

“You’ll be sleeping in Hugh and Tony’s bedroom.” Hillary’s father said from the doorway. “You two might be living together and sharing a bed but my house, my rules.” He said firmly.

Both Bill and Hillary blushed.

“Dad.”

“Of course, sir.” Bill gulped. The man was so intimidating and Bill wanted to try and win him over.

That evening, after dinner, Bill helped Dorothy to clean up in the kitchen.

“You really don’t need to, honey.” Dorothy told him.

Bill shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’m the one doing the cleaning in our house.” He dried the plate Dorothy handed him. “I always joke that Hillary keeps me around because I’m serviceable around the house.” He chuckled.

Dorothy shook her head with a laugh. “That girl… I honestly taught her better.”

“But I love her”

Dorothy looked at him and saw the love in his eyes. That man really adored her daughter and that reassured her,

“Who’s reading this?” A book caught his attention. He ran his hand over a philosophy book laying on the table.

“Oh, it’s just a book I’m reading for my college courses. I know, college? Someone my age. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. There isn’t an age limit for learning. I read this a few years ago.” He flipped through the pages and saw some notes.

Suddenly, they spent the next hour discussing philosophy. That was how Hillary found them when she didn’t see her boyfriend come back from drying the pots.

“Mum, did you kidnap my boyfriend?”

Dorothy jumped on her seat. “Oh gosh, look at the time.” She got up. “It was great talking to you about this, Bill” She lovingly patted his shoulder.

“Me too.”

And they all said their goodnights.

Hillary smiled and sat on his lap. “Well, look at you.” She put her arms around his neck. “Working that Clinton charm on my mother, being all buddy buddy.”

“Don’t worry.” He put his hands on her hips. “You’re the only Rodham woman I’m interested in…” He gently kissed her. “But it was great getting to know who raised the woman I love.”

“I’m glad. I know you were nervous about this.”

“I was but your family is so welcoming.”

“Even my father?” She raised her eyebrow, skeptical.

He chuckled. “Well, he might take more work, but I’ll make him warm up to him, you see…”

“I’m sure.” She rewarded him with another kiss. “How about spending some time together before my father sends us to separate rooms?”

“Sounds great.”

In the next few days, Bill spent time playing cards with her father, watching football matches together with him and her brothers and he was soon officially a member of the family. He even won over her friends.

On New Year’s Eve, Bill and Hillary greeted the new year together for the first time with a kiss and the promise that they wouldn’t let their relationship slip away because of school and work.

“I think this one’s here to stay.” Dorothy said to her husband as they watched them from afar.

Hugh hummed in agreement. “I guess she could have done a lot worse than a Democrat.”

#the clintons #bill clinton #hillary clinton #billary #love #bill and hillary #advent fic drabble

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akilsposts · 27 days

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In Life, In Sickness and In Death...

There are some people who leave an indelible mark on your life. While it would be futile to say that we as individual entities are the product or handiwork of a single person, it is no stretch to state that there are some people about whom we can confidently affirm, "I wouldn't have been here, if not for them!" Today, I lost one of those people.

At the age of thirty three, when I still have more regrets than any sense of accomplishment, there are still a few things I feel proud about. It is in the accomplishment of these few things that I am most indebted to comrade V. Venugopal. Venu maaman, as he's affectionately called by most of the younger generation whom he brought up with the utmost care, left his mark on me while helping me achieve those few things that I genuinely count as my accomplishments.

I have known Venu maaman for a long time: twenty seven years is how far back I can stretch my memory. However, for long he had remained as someone I only knew and occasionally saw. I knew him as one of the important leaders of SUCI(Communist) and someone who lived in Ambalapuzha, and as someone who brought up a battalion of children. I would also see him at the Children's Camp organised by Prachodana which was held every year during the summer holidays. These camps were memorable affairs, not just in themselves, but also because this battalion of children were there without fail. They were all talented, verbose and most things that I was not. Naturally, I found them fascinating. Looking back, and of course in hindsight, they were my first gateway to the personality that was Venu maaman. Yet, I don't remember having a single conversation with him. That was until I turned 16. In the summer of 2007, my mother 'volunteered' me and my sister for a 'camp' in Kannur. She did not know that it would change our lives forever. (Neither did we). The usual battalion was present. There were a few others too. The one week we spent in Kannur, collecting funds and practicing a street drama which was presented at the farmers' agitation in Wayanad is marked in bold letters in the pages of my mind. The organisation which we became a part of, Komsomol - the league of young communists, became our organisation. It was in the course of formation and development of this organisation that I came to really know Venu maaman. Unlike the Children's Camp, the Komsomol camps and classes were by and large conducted under his direct supervision. It was through these camps and classes that we were inducted into the philosophy of Marxism. Venu maaman used to personally take many of these classes, or used to make the concluding talks for many topics. I found his speeches profoundly enlightening. I did not understand them fully at the time but there have been times later in life when I could see many aspects from his speeches come true. It felt like the future was being predicted. Needless to say, it not only increased my confidence in the philosophy that Venu maaman was trying to impart in us but also my confidence in his leadership. However, most important to me was the sense of belonging that was slowly starting to sprout inside my mind. Till then I had lived my life with a feeling that I did not belong anywhere. The gnawing insecurity had contributed much to the lack of confidence and a weak character. It was through the activities of Komsomol, under the guidance of Venu maaman that I first truly felt that I was in a place that I wanted to be and that I was doing something that I wanted to do.

Nonetheless, being the person that I was, I had to go away and make more mistakes and learn a few things on my own before I could make my way back to Venu maaman and his guidance. For this, I'll always be grateful to comrade Aparna. It took some amount of coaxing and nagging on her part for me to finally approach Venu maaman with my thoughts and concerns. Being a private person who was open with only a few people in life, it was very difficult for me to go to Venu maaman with my problems. Even more unthinkable was the thought of speaking about them. Therefore, I did not do that. Instead, I sent him a letter. He addressed my issues when I visited him later. I repeated this process once more. Later, once when I told him I had something to tell him and that I would write, he insisted that I speak and not write. That was one more odd to surmount but he made sure I did.

Venu maaman was the perfect guide: tailor made for me, or so I would like to believe. He listened to my concerns but did not hand out any solutions. Instead, he laid out an approach and left me to find my own solutions. Again in hindsight, I realise that was an essential process. Handing out solutions would have been easy for him to do but by laying out an approach he was allowing me to chart out my own thought process and make my own mistakes. For someone who was very limited in making decisions on my own, all these were important and essential steps of a process. This continued all the way till he could no longer do it physically. In the meantime, he and comrade C.K. Lukose imparted enough lessons for me to trust the leadership of the party and to develop a dialectical relationship with the organisation.

It was a surprise when the party listed me among the volunteers entrusted to care for Venu maaman when he became bedridden. I did not feel I could do justice to what was being asked of me. However, I am glad that I was chosen because each time I came for my turn, I learned something new. Many of these filled me with wonder and awe, including about his intellectual capacity. Yet, the most beautifully striking thing that stood out for me was that even amidst episodes of memory lapses, each and every thoughts of his were about the party and its well being. In extension, each of his thoughts were for revolution. In sickness, he was imparting important lessons.

Venu maaman's death was not totally unexpected. However undesirable the thought, there was a feeling that it was slowly creeping up on him. He was small in death. His body had emaciated very much. Yet, as he lay there, I was again struck by how death has only served to make him even bigger. There were raw emotions at the loss. There were tears shed for the immense loss the society has suffered. There were lots of people. The old who could barely stand. The young who could not and would not hold their tears. Comrades of many years. Acquaintances few meetings old. The renowned who had shared many a distinguished stage. The poor and the struggling masses who had fought and won under his command. Friends and doubters. Supporters and opponents. They were all united in their conviction that an individual of barely believable qualities had passed away. In death, he was teaching us what boundless love could achieve.

Even as I say this, I am acutely aware of many of the limitations that are holding me back. It would be a lie to say that I have unwaveringly stuck by all that Venu maaman has imparted. I have wavered, at times more than others, but now I can confidently say without any reservations that I am in that place and station in life that I belong. For someone reluctant to show my love, I have seen what I stand to lose by not sharing it. Even more, I realise I simply have to love more and more, and then some more. Of course, I continue to make mistakes but I believe I have a process to fall back on and correct myself. The path ahead is illumined but how I tread it will depend on my realisations. Now that I have looked back, it has made me realise that comrade V. Venugopal has left an even greater mark on me than I had thought. All these have also made me realise that he remains with us, no matter what. In life, in sickness and in death. Red Salute comrade V. Venugopal!

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doomalade · 1 year

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I think you and I have a lot of the same opinions on Tai Yang. I can tell that the writers were going for a typical dad character who is not afraid to tell his daughter like it is, but he problem is that Tai is also a very boring character and the writers have a chronic case of foot in mouth syndrome.

Tai Yang has no empathy for Yang's disability and trauma because the writers have no empathy for Yang's disability and trauma. They say so in the volume 4 commentary when they call her PTSD recovery arc boring.

So Tai's general philosophy of "try to get everything back to normal as quickly as possible with absolutely no care for you learning to grieve in your own time and come to terms with it whenever you need to, up to and including taking a mobility aid that you've made it very clear you're not ready for"

It's also just really uncomfortable watching a group of able bodied men tell a disabled girl how she should feel about her own trauma that none of them actually care to emphasize with.

I definitely don't think Tai Yang is abusive, but I do think his treatment of Yang in volume 4 was very clearly not ok. And I lay the blame mainly on the writers for that because the writers are the reason most things in RWBY are bad.

Another thing I absolutely hated about Tai's "lessons" with Yang is how much of a prick he is to her about things that shouldn't matter.

No, it's not Yang's fault she lost her arm. What did you want her to do? Not immediately try to rescue her friend? Of course she jumped in without a plan! Blake was being stabbed right in front of her! She didn't have time!

No, Yang's semblance was not the issue, She actually uses it pretty sparingly because it's a great finishing move. In fact, collecting all of the damage you were given throughout a fight to then send it back at full force to completely incapacitate your opponent when the time is right, Is probably the best strategic use semblance I've ever seen in this show! Waiting until the last minute to unleash all of your power when your opponent has been tired out sufficiently, is already a good strategy!

And even if Yang was supposed to be learning to get better control of her temper, It failed miserably because now Yang's angry all the time She doesn't even have enough love in her heart to shine it on both her girlfriend and her sister when previously she loved with all the warmth of the sun.

It's just a super frustrating mess.

Ikr?

Like what was going through Tai’s mind in V4? Better question, what was going through the minds of the writers in V4?

RT wanted Tai to be the cool dad figure who cares deeply for his daughters, I mean look at how he’s shown in Chibi. But then you remember in the show proper that Tai grew emotionally distant after Summer, which is fine. People grieve in different ways, not all of them healthy to the people around us.

Yet you see that method of being emotionally distant and lacking empathy in V4. His daughter got her arm cut off? Why doesn’t she just get over herself already? Not to forget how hypocritical it is of him to say given that he seemingly took all of the time in the world grieving while Ruby was growing up.

Tai is a flawed character but the show doesn’t take it’s time exploring that or even admitting it’s a thing. Truly nothing is more RWBY than the writers shoving things down and hoping no one notices and if they do, they’re literally Hitler.

Tbh, I see why Raven left Tai.

#rwby #rwde #taiyang xiao long

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harrisonarchive · 2 years

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George Harrison during the filming of Magical Mystery Tour in Plymouth on September 12, 1967; photographer unnamed (probably David Redfern).

“Reaching a blissful state is the most important thing, but I’ve still got to do a job, being a Beatle.“ - George Harrison, The Beatles: The Authorized Biography (1968)

“The way George is going he will be flying on a magic carpet by the time he is 40. I am here [in Rishikesh in 1968] to find out what kind of role I am now to play. I would like to know how far I can progress with it. George is a few inches ahead of us.” - John Lennon, Daily Mirror, February 19, 1968

“Two years ago, when George first started experimenting with Indian music, he reached a point where he nearly quit the Beatles. He yearned for the new life that was awaiting him in India. He told me: ‘I felt I wanted to walk out of my home that day and take a one-way ticket to Calcutta. I would have even left Patti [sic - Pattie] behind in that moment and all I would have taken would have been my sitar.'” - Don Short, Daily Mirror, February 19, 1968

“We were all interested in it [Indian culture] — but for George it was a direction.” - Paul McCartney, The Beatles Anthology (2000)

“I was looking for something but wasn’t really sure what it was. Then I saw an ad for meditation classes […]. I told George what I had been doing and he was quite interested. […] George was always a reluctant famous person, and I think when he went to India and understood a little bit about Indian philosophy and spirituality, I think he thought he might be able to find out why he was chosen to be famous. It was always confusing to him, a boy from Liverpool being able to play the guitar, suddenly, well not suddenly, but quite quickly becoming world famous. It was difficult to come to terms with that for him, and he thought there could possibly be an answer, and if it was going to be anywhere it was going to be in the East.” - Pattie Boyd, British Beatles Fan Club special edition magazine, 2011 (x)

"In February 1967 [Pattie] became a member of the Spiritual Regeneration Movement — on her own, not with George. 'I’d been trying to teach myself meditation from books, but only really half doing it. One day a girl friend told me about transcendental meditation. I went along with her to a lecture given at the Caxton Hall. Maharishi himself wasn’t there. It was just someone else talking about his work. I joined the movement, but I found the lecture very dull and all rather obvious. 'But I got all the movement’s literature from them so I knew all about their summer conference at Bangor and what it was all about. I said yes, long before George and the others heard about it. I’d booked up weeks before.' George, in the meantime, was reading book after book. When he’d inwardly digested bits of them, he’d pass them on in little globules to Paul, John, and Ringo when they met during work on Sergeant Pepper. They were all very excited. It was impossible to speak to any of them at this time without their launching into a long spiritual diatribe. Most of it had been picked up from George, although they soon began to read for themselves. [...] Pattie is involved in all things Indian, but George, as with everything he has always taken up, does it almost with a fanaticism. He used to practice the guitar till fingers bled. Now he sometimes plays the sitar all day long. When he’s not doing that, he is reading book after book on religion. He’s not cranky about it. As he goes on and learns more, he becomes more humble and more light-hearted about it. He doesn’t preach as much, although there is always the danger when is being quoted of appearing more fanatical than he is. Paul and John especially would be the first to cut down his pretensions or to mock his illusions if there had been any. Even from the first, before Maharishi came along, as George was discovering Buddhism and Yogi for himself, they were as fascinated to hear what he’d found as he was." - The Beatles: The Authorized Biography (1968)

"Presumably John and Paul did see hidden things in George, right from the beginning, apart from his excellent guitar playing. They were proud of him, in a big brotherly way, for being so good on the guitar, and by 1967 their pride had turned to admiration, not just for the excellent songs he now composed, but for being so knowledgeable about Indian music and culture, going to such trouble to teach himself the sitar. For the first time in his life, he had become a leader, doing it by example, not in any bossy, domineering way." - Hunter Davies, from the introduction to the 2002 edition of The Beatles: The Authorized Biography

#The Beatles #George Harrison #Paul McCartney #John Lennon #Ringo Starr #Pattie Boyd #et al #quote #quotes by George #quotes about George #Harrison spirituality #George and Paul #George and John #George and Ringo #george and pattie #1967 #1960s #fits queue like a glove

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 1 year

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Kinda (REALLY!) in the mood for werewolf bakery owner!Leo

TH Masterlist

“Malen’kiy, some things, da, don’t work.”

Hush! I’ll have it make sense. I’ll be drawing mostly off of the small head canon I’ve already established for him, though.

In a nutshell, for those who’ve missed Conversations over Coffee, you live together with Leo in a big cottage in a more remote part of the Cotswolds. You’re his supervisor in the WHO’s reintegration program for the supernatural. He’s a fugitive werewolf who’s been given asylum and is slowly starting to warm up to you.

But now I’m thinking you also inherited, aside from the house, a rather dilapidated building in town from your late grandmother.

Having always loved baking, you’ve decided to pursue your dream and turn it into a bakery.

This is where Leo also comes in because he’s been a major help during the building’s renovation and setting up shop. Believe it or not, but he’s actually quite handy.

However, he took the joke of ‘having to earn your keep’ literally, resulting in working himself to the bone.

“Leo, I didn’t mean it,’’ you told him when you finally managed to get him to sit down for a break. ‘‘I was just pulling your leg.”

“You weren’t.’’

“I was.”

“Net. I don’t remember you pulling on my leg.’’ He squinted, utterly confused. ‘‘You did not touch my leg.”

“Not literally! A joke, it was a joke! You don’t have to keep exhausting yourself like this. I’m grateful for your help, but I won’t turn you out if you don’t help out at all.”

“No, I will continue to help.” He looked into his tea cup, his voice lowered and his words slower. “Because this is my dream too.”

“How do you mean?”

You didn’t expect him to open up, knowing well how reserved he is. So it came as a surprise when he breathed in deeply and told you a bit about himself, his past.

“Back in Russia, I wondered what I do, net, would do without the KGB. I used to help my grandmother in her bakery, you know? Run around town delivering bread and pastries. It made me happy. But then you grow up and that happy little pup had to learn how to survive in a cold world.”

“I can’t bring back the boy you once were, but I’d very much like it if you’d become my business partner.”

“You would?”

“Fancy trying?”

He hummed then, one of the few times he’d shown his delight. “Da.”

Though he’s good at baking too, Leo busies himself with coffee and tea while you whip up pastries and cakes. Nevertheless, both of you make sure there’s plenty of Russian pastries (Leo’s territory you refuse to dabble in) to choose from too.

He has plans to teach you how to make his favourites, rogaliki & kartoshka. However, he’s still waiting for the right time and first wants to have more trust in you before he teaches you the recipes taught him by his mother and late wife, Raisa.

Yes, indeed, he’s a widower.

A secret he keeps safely locked away.

A burden he hopes to one day shed somehow.

Female customers go insane during the summer because Leo unconsciously shows off his sturdy and lightly tattooed arms. Usually he wears a long-sleeved shirt or a button-up one, of which he rolls up the sleeves. However, once it gets warmer, he’ll switch to T-shirts.

Which are all black, the only pop of colour being from the print on them.

Wee note on the tats: he’s gotten a couple more since he moved in, most of them on his upper arms and torso.

Prefers appointments on Sunday so you can tag along and it won’t interfere with business. Basically, he makes a day trip out of it.

Or a holiday for both of you to enjoy if the tattoo artist works in a studio that’s too far away.

Refuses to enlighten you about the reason why he got a sparrow on his left peck, right over his heart.

Nowadays often leans in closely when you’re taking orders at the till. Occasionally, at random and no matter the person, he’ll put one of his big wolf paws on your waist, just within sight of the customer.

Nonetheless, there’s a philosophy behind the new form of intimacy. The more he starts to trust you, the more he feels drawn to you.

You’ve given Leo a new chance at life and he’ll do his damned best to protect that.

But there’s one aspect of it he’s fiercer about than anything else.

You.

Because it means nothing to him if you aren’t there

With him.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @hecatemoon87 @vir-tual @alikaheroes @buttercup32sstuff @woofgocows @zablife @liliac-dreamer @dreamlandcreations @elijahssuit @ilovemanypeople

#Leo Demidov #Leo Demidov imagine #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy imagine

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triscribeaucollection · 2 years

Text

The Teamwork of Bats and Owls

This is. ENTIRELY self-indulgent, but heck if I’m not gonna write it anyway.

Basic idea: Alfred Pennyworth, newly responsible for the young orphan Bruce Wayne, decides to bring the lad along on his annual trip home to Cokeworth, England. They stay with his sister, her husband, and their two daughters - the Evans family. Petunia is a little older than Bruce, Lily a little younger.

It’s Lily that Bruce soon gets dragged into friendship with, becoming a trio with her and Severus Snape for the duration of the visit. And the next one. And the next, and so on and so forth.

He is a muggle, yes, but still learns about the existence of magic, hears about Hogwarts and gets to see the supplies Lily and Severus bring home from Diagon Alley. During the rest of the year, he and Alfred receive international owl mail, the animals typically staying at Wayne Manor overnight before being given replies and sent off again.

There’s some obvious unease in the teenage years, with Lily and Severus getting more strained around each other and Bruce awkwardly trying to be middleman. Eventually, they reach a point of no return, and each separately tries to explain to their American friend just why a Gryffindor muggleborn and Slytherin halfblood can no longer be friends.

(Bruce calls bullshit, and drags them both along to the movies on his next summer visit, but it’s too little to change the course of destiny.)

Eventually, Bruce sets off on his worldwide journey to learn from the best experts and masters of a dozen different arts - observation, investigation, science and philosophy and, of course, martial combat. Two years in a row, he isn’t able to go with Alfred on the usual trip, sending along letters with the man instead.

He does, however, obey the stern instruction to be present for Lily’s wedding.

(”I just want you to know, Potter,” Bruce said in a pleasant tone, “That yes, I may not be magical, but if you ever hurt her, I’ll still find a way to track you down and break both your legs. And then help Lily cart you up a cliff for her to toss you off the other side.”

James blinked at him, clearly startled. But then the nineteen year old started to laugh, and clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Mate, if I ever bullocks things up badly enough to hurt her, I’m throwing myself off a cliff before Lily even gets a chance. But the shovel talk is appreciated!”

“Well. Just so we’re clear.”)

Another couple of years go by. Alfred becomes reacquainted with stitching injuries as well as clothing. Bruce becomes Batman, and brings home his first Robin. The conflict in England worsens, Lily sending one last letter with pictures of her son before cutting off all contact to go into hiding.

And then the message comes that she’s been killed.

I’m still sorting out the details from this point onward, but long story short, Harry Potter’s going to have an impressive number of investigative and hand to hand combat skills even before entering Hogwarts for the first time.

Voldemort isn’t going to know what hit him :D

#hogwarts #dc #crossover #harry potter #batman #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #lily evans #petunia evans #lily potter #petunia dursley #james potter #dick grayson #fan fiction #new idea

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hueningoo-archive · 1 year

Note

Hi!!! Hope you're having a good day?😊

I wanted to try your TXT matchup event if that's possible?

🪷 Height : 165 cm

🪷 Studying philosophy at the university.

🪷 I'm an INTP & cancer. I'm definitely a huge introvert, someone who is quiet/reserved & often lost in their own thoughts. This often gives the wrong impression to people, they tend to think I'm cold & distant but I'm just shy & not really good at engaging conversations/ doing small talk.😅

🪷 I need time to open up to someone & even if I'm close to someone, I have this habit to put walls to protect myself. I don't really like sharing anything personal so I put some distance between me & people.

🪷 I'm more of a listener than a talker so people like to come to me to talk about their problems/ struggles even if I'm not necessarily close to them. I don't mind because I love helping them, love the idea they come to me because they know they won't be judged. I'm always here to give advices.

🪷 I'm good at keeping my calm & emotions in check in stressful situations. I always try to think rationally instead of being overwhelmed by emotions.

🪷 Can be quite playful & mischievous! I love teasing my friends & family!

🪷 I'm very sarcastic. I always have a comeback ready at the tip of my tongue.😜

🪷 My biggest flaws are how prideful I can be & my stubbornness...😪

🪷 My love language is acts of service (giving), I'm not very good at talking about my feelings & I think actions speak louder than words.

Receiving I'd say words of affirmation & acts of service.

My hobbies / likes :

🌺 Poetry : Love reading poems & I'm trying to write some sometimes but I don't think I'm good at it so I'm just sticking to reading them.

🌺 Writing : I'm often lost in my own head so writing is a way to let things out, organize my thoughts, reflecting on myself or on certain subjects.

🌺 Cooking & baking : Love doing it for my family! It always makes me happy to see them appreciate the food I prepared for them!😊

🌺 Photography : Love taking the time to observe the world around me & appreciate it's beauty.

🌺 Stargazing : My favourite thing to do in summer! It's just so peaceful & magical.✨

🌺 Studying : I'm a very curious person who's always eager to learn new things on different subjects! The library is definitely my safe place!

🌺 For my music taste here are some of my favourite artists : Bruno Mars, Coldplay, Imagine Dragons, Chase Atlantic & TXT obviously.🤧

🌺 Have a huge sweet tooth so I love sweets, pastries ect...😋

Dislikes :

🥀 Clingy people : I value my personal space & if someone doesn't respect it I can be easily annoyed & I will become cold & distant.

🥀Alcohol : I just hate the taste or even the smell of it.

🥀 Loud & crowded places : They make me anxious & uncomfortable.

🥀 Scared of heights & small places.

🥀 Hate coffee.🤢

I think I said everything I needed to say!! Hope you have everything you needed!

Thank you in advance & please take care of yourself!!🤗💙

i match you with... beomgyu!

gyu respects that you take time to open up, and he will never push you to talk to him about anything u dont want to! beomgyu may be pretty introverted, but hes great at keeping conversations going. beomgyu is DEF a talker! he loves to talk about anything and everything. sure, he cant do serious stuff for too long and venting is hard for him, but as long as its with you hes okay with it. teasing gyu LOL!! he'll try to tease you back but then just be stunned with one of your comebacks, bro will NEVER give up tho!

gyu loves your little acts of service here and there, it makes him feel so loved hehe. he does like to recieve some phsyical affection here and there too. beomgyu who ties your shoelaces for you and cooks for you..

stargazing with gyu <3 you dont even have to talk while stargazing. he loves the company and he loves the stars. pointing out the constellations or just shapes you can see and getting excite when u see shooting stars ughh how he loves it!

#hueningoo matchup event #aaa!! fellow cancer intp! hi!!#txt x reader #tomorrow x together #beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff

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clouds-rambles · 1 year

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Cloud dearest,

Around about a year ago, I came to you and gushed about my crush. I then said he was dating someone and kind of disappeared.

Well let me give you a little update.

It turns out, my guy and his boyfriend broke up sometime around April/May-ish because they realised they really weren't more than just friends.

We vibed. We vibed for the rest of that school year, with him sitting with me, talking, sending eachother all sorts of tiktoks and getting into heated philosophical debates about this and that.

Summer. We talked all through that. He sent me a tiktok involving chess one time and I told him I actually didn't know how to play chess. He was shocked because "I seem like someone who would be great at chess". I was feeling bold so I said he should teach me, and he took it seriously! We met up in a coffee shop, he bought a chessboard, and he thought me how to chess, in a way that my late grandad would be proud of (he also tried to teach me and I simply could not remember each piece, and then he died so I never got the chance to try to learn again). We've played chess many times since and I've even won a few matches!

After summer, school started again. He stole my phone many times, took bunches of the goofiest selfies on it. We started talking more, about just this and that, just random things. He started asking me more about myself and my personal preferences. We started going out to play chess, just because, more. And somehow the flirting got so intense (?), I guess, because the whole philosophy class started asking if we were dating, or if we were friends with benefits, because "there is absolutely no way you two are just friends!"

December rolled around. Now, let me tell you, both him and I are Christmas fanatics. He asked me out to town because he wanted to pick out outfits for eachother, because that's apparently something we just do nowadays. Unfortunately, the weekend coincided with plans I had with my family - we were dressing up the tree - so I just invited him over to that. He attended, met my family, loved them, they loved him, it was a very nice little Christmas moment.

He had invited me to the German Christmas market before I got him to dress my Christmas tree with my family. We linked arms, "to not get lost", then started holding hands. "Because I like you," he said to me at that. I asked in what way, and he said I'll find out later. I told him I like him too, and when he asked in what way, I said I think he already knows.

I went to his house, met his family, and watched The Polar Express with them. We chilled, cuddled in eachothers arms in his room. I pet all of his cats and his dog, they all loved me! Let me tell you, we basically were dating then. He said I looked uncomfortable, ducking my head in his attic bedroom, so he invited me to the bed and I lay between his legs, staring at the ceiling for two hours before we headed downstairs to watch the film. His family are very nice, by the way, and I think they like me.

He kept being like "wish I was cuddling someone right now" and so I spontaneously asked him to come over for new years eve, because the plan was that I was supposed to stay alone with the dog (because she's terrified of fireworks) while the rest of my family went out to a party. He agreed! And we were going to cuddle and watch movies and then celebrate midnight and it was going to be nice.

Unfortunately, I got ill at Christmas and then infected my mom and so they all stayed home and didn't go to the party. I told him this and he still decided to come (because my family are nice apparently)! So he came over! And we cuddled in my room! And he somewhat kissed my neck (bestie let me tell you, embarrassingly, neither of us have had our first kisses yet and neither of us know what we are doing or how to kiss because there is a very complex theory to all of this and is just really goddamn hard!) and it was all nice and great until my mom decided to fry fish. The smell of fried fish made him feel really sick. And so he went to my toilet and threw up and spent a good while in there and I was concerned and my mom was really sorry and felt bad but my crush felt really bad too because he 'ruined' the night which I really don't think is true. Anyway. I ended up giving him his phone so he could call someone to pick him up and take him home. I sat on the bathroom floor, he was sitting on my toilet. He was really embarrassed and upset but ended up laughing anyway because "it's always the things you really want to go right that end up going wrong!" He wanted to officially ask me out and kiss me at midnight. He was sick, and he believed it was so unromantic and gross, but he was dead set on asking me today so "if everything went to plan, would you-" "YES!"

So, today, on new year's eve, on the bathroom floor, I got asked to be my two year crush's girlfriend officially! And holy shit does it feel good! We didn't kiss because he threw up and that's just gross. But I did spend half an hour comforting him and telling him he didn't ruin anything and that it's not his fault. I love him. I love him holy shit I love him so much! He went home at 9, didn't last till midnight, didn't carry out his midnight plans. But we are dating! Officially!!!

Apologies, I got progressively drunk while writing this because ✨champagne✨ because ✨happy new year✨!

My boyfriend (I can officially say that and it feels absolutely great!!!) has left before 12 so now it's just me and my parents drinking two bottles of champagne and I am absolutely drunk off my ass. Anyway I am very very very happy! Holy shit. Two years. Two years of pinning, mutual pinning from a certain point, and finally here we are, after the single funniest (most embarrassing for him) asking out story ever, we are dating!

Cloud I am so happy! Cloud I am turning into my friend who got drunk and started talking exclusively about their girlfriend. Cloudddddd!! I have a boyfriend! I have a BEEEEE EFFFFF! (I will absolutely call him my BEEF at some point because I saw a meme one time and it's all I think about). I have a boyfrienddddd. My crush. My crush actually liked me back and now we're dating and that is absolutely insane and I am very happy!!!!!!!!!!!

Love, joy and understanding,

Me, drunk off my ass on champagne and love <33333

nonny i think this is the single most wholesome way for your crush to end up, i’m so happy for you <333

happy new year to you and your new boyfriend :)

#SCREAMING THIS IS ADORABLE #[☁️]asks

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fenrhi · 2 years

Text

Thoughts on Kazuha’s Summer Odyssey (it’s not going to be particularly well organized or well written, I just wanted to throw these somewhere)

The Good:

- This dungeon looked great! (even if it gave me a headache, mobile players are born to suffer it seems). I liked how its appearance changed to reflect Kazuha’s life: his house starts to fall apart little by little, to the point where huge chunks of wood would start floating around. The black and white sequence was also nice

- Music arrangements are “my jam” (as the Americans say) so I’m happy the devs put a remixed version of Inazuma Battle Theme in this dungeon

- Learning about a character’s past in this way was wayyyy more pleasant than just reading 50 Wikipedia articles in an artifact’s description (RIP Rosalyne, you were too good for this game)

The Less Good:

- That being said, this dungeon was just another iteration of one of Hellshin’s biggest problems (if not THE biggest problem): what happened in the past is more interesting than what’s happening in the present, dead characters are more interesting than alive playable characters. I’ll try to explain this properly below

- I really was like ???? when I found out what the dungeon would be about. MHY really said: “hey you know how 2.7 had a magical environnement that could materialize people’s thoughts and fears? Let’s do this again in 2.8!” and gave us this dungeon, which, while pretty-looking, also bothers me on several aspects

- 2.8 tries to do what 2.7 did, but in a less effective manner: putting people who don’t know each other in the same place and having them go through “Speedrun Bonding”, if you will. But GAA isn’t the Chasm. The characters are not in immediate danger. There’s no good reason for them to go inside the dungeon. Nothing is pressuring them. Kazuha doesn’t give a shit about his past, and the others.......uhh.... Well, they don’t really comment on the situation (except the generic “ooh Kazuha’s life is so saaad” but that doesn’t count). They don’t comment on the huge breach of privacy they commited. I don’t care if Kazuha himself says it doesn’t matter, I think this is something the other characters should have brought up

- Speaking of Kazuha, I screamed when he said: “I’m embarrassed you had to see this younger version of me, who was so immature” because??? Bro this younger version of you was more engaging than the current you. A little guy with an internal conflict and fears! That’s what I like to see!

- There are also things that don’t really add up with Kaedehara Clan’s philosophy and way of life. This Clan developped the Isshin Art, a peculiar way of forging swords. The Clan believes the swordman must be “in harmony” with his sword and a fighting technique was born from this. And yet, Kazuha’s grandpa says “our swords were not meant to hurt people”, but swords are tools used for fighting? Fighting implies getting hurt and hurting others? Why else would you use a sword for, cutting wood? Fishing? Kazuha himself learned how to use a sword and he regularly slays ronin and thieves so....

- I couldn’t believe it at first, but they Ei-ified Kazuha. The writers cleansed Kazuha of character traits and decisons that could make him “look bad” (it’s used very broadly here). Kazuha’s dad wanted to dissolve the clan, so it’s not a bad thing for Kazuha to realize his wish. Kazuha’s grandpa cared more about frolicking in flower fields than the Isshin Art, so it’s not a bad thing if Kazuha follows in his footsteps, etc....

- Kazuha even says he’s “pure and empty like his bonsai pot” and “a breeze that doesn’t have an ego, hatred, regrets and desires”, which is the most brutal self-own I have seen in this game

- Being flat and empty is not a compliment, MHY.... Oh no they can’t hear me, they have Drifter’s Destiny playing in their ears......

#genshin impact spoilers #this is so long afsfjkm #fenrhi plays gi

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mangosimoothie · 2 years

Note

for the ask meme: 50, 55, 67, and 84 for aja, cooper, and zeke :D (i know, i know, i ask about them almost every time...but i love them...)

Aw but I love that they're your faves!

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept?

Aja: It depends on the apology...she tries to give people the benefit of the doubt, but stuff like that really does impress or win her over. Like with Darion, she appreciated and accepted the apology but didn't forgive him.

Cooper: He's forgiving to a fault, that would work on him for sure.

Zeke: Like Aja gifts don't really work on him for apology purposes, but he's has a little more give than she does and tries to be forgiving unless it's a huge transgression.

55. Share a relationship story.

Aja: Aja is bi but is really nervous around women, so she's only dated one woman. It was only a ~summer girlfriend~ from an internship in college, but it taught Aja a lot about herself (and they still watch each other's stories on IG)

Cooper: what I wanna say is a spoilerrrr so I'm skipping him for now 😅

Zeke: Zeke is approached quite a bit but doesn't date a lot. He did agree to a date with someone who takes his yoga class (which he had some ethical qualms about...it's not like it's school or something but it's still a student/teacher thing technically) she seemed interesting, but wound up wanting him to talk philosophy and spirituality the whole time which was actually super boring. That's part of why he agreed to be on the show - it's forcing him out of his zone a little bit and letting him meet someone who normally wouldn't be in any of his social circles.

67. What is your idea of the perfect date?

Aja: Aja's adventurous - she loves to try something new! She thinks doing something new or exciting lets your guard down a little during a date, so you get to be into the Thing instead of thinking too much about the Date. It's a good way to really get to know someone.

Cooper: As we have learned he's NOT great at planning dates lmao. Ideally he just wants to be cozy and like sit by a fire together 🥺

Zeke: This is similar to Aja's lol but he wants to learn past the basics on a date, so doing something together that isn't really "romantic" is ideal. Taking Aja to his yoga studio was perfect for him because the whole time Aja was really focusing more on herself and what she was doing than on him, so he got her to be focused on just being in the moment, not being on a date.

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

Aja: She got bored. Aja was dating a promoter that she'd worked on a couple really big events with. He was really cool and popular and had an In at literally any event or venue you can think of, but he's the kind of person she's surrounded by constantly and lately she feels like she's growing out of the whole "influencer" thing and is looking for something deeper and less superficial.

Cooper: issa spoilerrrr sorry

Zeke: They grew apart. Zeke's last girlfriend started to feel like he was more focused on his personal/spiritual journey than he was on the relationship - which is true, he was. For him that just makes sense - you are literally the center of your own universe. Love is simple and shouldn't be work, while improving yourself is hard so that's where the work should go. But for her it made her feel like she was having too much trouble connecting with him.

More! More! More!

#cooper #zeke #*aja

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7r0773r · 1 year

Text

The Beautiful Struggle by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Bill heard the admonishments of my father, but Dad couldn’t walk the path for him. We were divided—one foot in America, the other in a land of swords. They told us to act civilized, but everywhere bordered on carnage. Bill became uncomposed. To be strapped was to grab the steering wheel of our careening lives. A gun was a time machine and an anchor—it dictated events. To be strapped was to master yourself, to become more than a man whose life and death could be simply seized and hurled about. (p. 35)

***

I was twelve, but when I heard "Lyrics of Fury"—"A horn if you want the style I possess / I bless the child, the earth, the gods, and bomb the rest"—I put away childish things, went to the notebook, and caged myself between the blue lines. In the evenings, that summer, I would close the door, lay across the bed, and put pen to pad.

At first I felt the words of others pulsing through me—my reforming brother, the esoteric allusions of The God, the philosophy of KRS-One—and in truth, in many years of trying, I never completely touched my own. My hand was awkward; and when I rhymed, the couplets would not adhere, punch lines crashed into bars, metaphors were extended until they derailed off beat. I was unfit, but still I had at it for days, months, and ultimately years. And the more ink I dribbled onto the page, the more I felt the blessing of the Jedi order of MCs. I wrote every day that summer, rhymed over B-side instrumentals, until my pen was a Staff of the Dreaded Streets (plus five chance to banish fools on sight) and my flow, though flicted and dis jointed, a Horn of Ghetto Blasting. The words were all braggadocios, but when done with the recital, even though I was alone, I felt bigger.

I'd walk outside, and my head was just a little higher, because if you do this right, if you claim to be that nigger enough, though you battle only your bedroom mirror, there is part of you that believes. That was how I came to understand, how I came to know why all these brothers wrote and talked so big. Even the Knowledged feared the streets. But the rhyme pad was a spell book—it summoned asphalt elementals, elder gods, and weeping ancestors, all of whom had your back. That summer, I knew what Fruitie was trying to say, that when under the aegis of hip hop, you never lived alone, you never walked alone.

I harried Big Bill until he took me up to Wabash to spit a sloppy verse. Marlon had cordoned off his father's basement. He presided over the 1200s, spinning breakbeats. Joey played with the keys until he found a riff he liked. I just sat on the couch going over my rhymes, while Bill stood blessing the mic behind what was once a bar.

By then I had raided the tall box of my father's old collection of Black Panther newspapers, devoured them during off-hours in Dad's office, and scribbled allusions to them in my book of rhymes. Dad no longer had to assign readings. My comics collections lapsed. Cartoons felt non-essential. I plunged into my father's books of Consciousness that he'd shelved in nearly every room in the house. That was how I found myself, how I learned my name. All my life Dad had told me what I was, that Ta-Nehisi was a nation, the ancient Egyptian name for the mighty Nubians to the south, but I could not truly hear. Where I'm from, Tamika is an American name. But Ta-Nehisi was hyphened and easily bent to the whims of anyone who knew the rudiments of the dozens. But seeing that handle among the books of glorious Africa, I knew why I could never be Javonne or Pete, that my name was a nation, not a target, not something for teachers to trip over but the ancient Nubians and the glorious Egyptians of the 25th.

I felt a light flowing through me. I awoke, excited, hungry to understand this immediate world, how we had all fallen to this. Now I knew Lemmel in a fuller sense, that it was troubled because all things worth anything ultimately are. That my world, though mired in disgrace, was more honorable than anything, was more beautiful than the exotic counties way up Reisterstown and Liberty Road. All the Mondawmins of the world—with their merchant vultures, wig stores, sidewalk sales, sub shops, fake gold, bastard boys, and wandering girls—were my only home. That was Knowledge and Consciousness joined, and when I grabbed the mic, that was the alchemy I brought forth. When I was done, I emerged taller, my voice was deeper, my arms were bigger, ancestors walked with me, and there in my hands, behold, Shango's glowing ax. (pp. 110-12)

***

Nowadays, I cut on the tube and see the dumbfounded looks, when over some minor violation of name and respect, a black boy is found leaking on the street. The anchors shake their heads. The activists give their stupid speeches, praising mythical days when all disputes were handled down at Ray's Gym. Politicians step up to the mic, claim the young have gone mad, their brains infected, and turned superpredator. Fuck you all who've ever spoken so foolishly, who've opened your mouths like we don't know what this is. We have read the books you own, the scorecards you keep—done the math and emerged prophetic. We know how we will die—with cousins in double murder suicides, in wars that are mere theory to you, convalescing in hospitals, slowly choked out by angina and cholesterol. We are the walking lowest rung, and all that stands between us and beast, between us and the local zoo, is respect, the respect you take as natural as sugar and shit. We know what we are, that we walk like we are not long for this world, that this world has never longed for us. (p. 177)

#Ta-Nehisi Coates #book quotes

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kewpiemeayo · 2 years

Text

Imagine College Student!Getō Suguru…

(unedited)

Riding his skateboard around campus between classes to kill time on the days where he was happily caught up with course readings and homework assignments. It was summer after all, and it seemed like such a waste of good weather to hide within the air-conditioned buildings on campus. Despite ogling at the noiret at every chance you got, it wasn’t the ravenette on his deck that caught your attention. It was his best friend, Satoru Gojo, following loosely behind him with a Go-Pro and a hoverboard, filming as they weaved between students and campus flora. His white hair caught the sun, reflecting like blinding headlights as he zipped by, expressing goofy commentary for their video footage. Getō and all his quiet glory would ride along, his hair tied up in a bun with loose strands fluttering in the wind. On a few occasions, especially on the hotter days, Suguru would ride his board without a shirt on, catching just about everyones’ attention at the way his muscles flexed to keep him upright on his deck.

You saw them quite frequently between classes of your own, only noticing Getō as a peer from both your Asia Studies course and an upper-level Philosophy lecture. He often sat closest to the aisle in the back, studiously taking notes by hand even—a miracle he caught everything the professors spewed at great speed. The two of you made eye contact once when you made a lame attempt to leave before he could so you could get a better glimpse of him before reading break. Getō offered a rather charming grin at you before his eyes cast down at his phone balancing on his knee. His obsidian locks hung loosely around his shoulders like a cascading waterfall, the usual up-do he had going on when he was out and around campus made him seem all the more out of your league.

The return from reading break had you giddy, excited to catch Getō at every chance you got now that everyone would be back on campus for class once again. To your very surprise, the man of the hour stood across the street from your favourite spot at the campus cafe without his usual board. Half of his hair had been tied up, a flannel wrapped around his hip and his bag slung over his one shoulder as he fished around the front pocket for his wallet. Confused, you had tilted your head at the rare sight, catching his attention as he surveyed the area for passing cars before making his way over.

A par of you expected him to pass by, the other part made a silent prayer that he would acknowledge you further and Getō chuckles to himself before flashing you a grin, “Broke my board last week doing something dumb.”

His nonchalant shrug had you blushing at his openness to explain himself as if the two of you were even mere acquaintances. Before you could ask him what happened, the man had already disappeared into the coffee shop doors, the bell chiming before you were once again alone on the small patio seating. Returning to your notes, you skimmed the material for this week’s lecture, a pastel highlighter twirling over your thumb as you hummed to yourself.

The door chime fell upon deaf ears, your mind too engrossed in the heavy, mind-scrambling discussion of your philosophy material before you. Only the sound of someone gently clearing their throat managed to steal your attention, turning up to see Getō waiting at the edge of your table pointing to the empty seat across from you, “Mind if I sit here?”

You scrambled to pull your belongings closer towards your side of the table, offering him space at the opposing end to put his stuff down, “Sorry, just trying to make sense of what we’re supposed to be learning this week with Professor Hamada.”

“No, I totally get it—his material’s pretty dense… Especially when he gets all excited about the topic too,” Getō smiled, removing the wrapper from his paper straw. “I almost fell asleep last lecture when he went on for an hour about sovereignty.”

You chuckled at the god-awful memory, the feeling of your tailbone going numb since Hamada was insistent on sending everyone home early if he could continue his lecture through the scheduled break instead, “I’ll give you props for staying awake, I conked out for a bit.”

The end of your tablet pen tapped against your screen, showing Getō where you had stopped taking notes. He hummed as he read over what you managed to type out before you dozed off in class, hand pulling at the zipper on his bag to retrieve his notes, “Here, you can fill in what you missed with mine.”

He hands over an open notebook, urging you take it from his grasp with a genuine smile. Thanking him profusely, you placed his book down and set up your tablet’s keyboard. Your classmate took a sip from his ice latte as he watched you type away, eyes fretting between his penmanship and your own screen.

“You have really neat handwriting…” you mumbled, more to yourself than to outwardly compliment him but Getō caught your words anyways. He thanked you, causing you to flush at the cheeks once more as you briefly looked up from your keyboard, “Sorry, didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“As if I would let a compliment pass me by, especially from a pretty classmate such as yourself.”

Your hands froze, brain processing his words a little too slowly for your own liking. The brief stutter in your movements sent Getō into a small fit as he watched you sit idly across from him. Unsure how to respond, you cleared your throat and diverted your gaze back to his notes, “So how did you break your skateboard again?”

If he was further amused by your inability to continue your previous conversation, he didn’t let onto it. Instead, he humoured your attempt to move on, leaning back against the metal patio chair, “Satoru, the friend I’m usually riding around campus with, locked me into a dare to do a trick I wasn’t familiar with and I ended up snapping the deck and denting my trucks. That bastard…”

As he spoke, Getō's eyebrows furrowed, his pretty eyes creasing to show otherwise unnoticeable puffy undereye. You couldn’t help but admire the way he looked up close, finding yourself awkwardly laughing at his story to suppress your other thoughts about him.

“Gotta do it from the ‘gram,” you shrugged, reaching for a sip of your own coffee. “Do you guys post videos on Youtube or something? I always see the Go-Pro following you.”

“Satoru tries, he really does, but his footage is god awfully shaky for someone only leaning on his hoverboard…” Getō shook his head, chuckling to himself as he mirrored your movements, sipping at the straw from his own drink while you finished your notes. “What about you? Do you know how to skateboard?”

He rests his weight on his forearms, leaning towards you on the table as if he was trying to close the gap of distractions—was he flirting with you?

A surge of courage passed your mind, your weight shifting to lean in towards your classmate as you racked your brain for a quick response, “That depends? Would you be offering to teach me if I said I didn’t?”

“That also depends,” Getō smirked, plucking the tablet pen off the tabletop to twirl over his thumb, the same way you had been doing when he came out of the shop. “If I promised to catch your falls, would you be willing to trust me to teach you?”

Your eyes darted between his own, searching for a sign that this was all just a friendly banter with no promises—even if he had been bad news, would you really be opposed to taking a lesson or two from him between classes? There were no observable signs of insincerity in his words, a playful glint only seemingly pushing you towards taking up his offer, “I’m not opposed.”

>> Masterlist >> Tagging: @subtleappreciation @catxsara @pricetagofficial @forzumaki @weebsausage @fiona782

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