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howdoesagrapewrites · 3 years

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All yours, Babooshka.

Tags: Yelena x fem!reader, soulmate!au, fluff with a bit of angts, historically completely incorrect, happy ending.

TW: depiction of war, brief mention of sex, homophobic slur a few times, suicide.

Synopsis: War is no place for loving, it never was, but maybe you could love her again in the 21 Century, i mean, only if you could stop feeling so overwhelmed by her only existence, but no matter what, you can't stop something that's meant to be.

Notes: one, i don't like the part 4, it just feels lazy to me, and two, i'm not a native, so please tell me if i made a mistake <3

Part one: When she was beautiful.

Yelena Armanovna, as strong as ten soldiers, the jewel of the battlefield, once was just a kid, her land was destroyed by the war, and as the only child of the house, she was forced to join the army, or else die there, she became a soldier, and she desired that the war wasn't real, that she hadn't being born into this world, that no one had.

Everyone knew that she didn't talk a lot, most of their fellow soldiers didn't even knew where she came from, or if she was even from Russia, the only one she talked to was a nurse, her name was y/n y/ln, and like Yelena, no one knew about her origin, the nurse was way more talkative than Yelena, but she was assigned to other areas, staying with older soldiers, child soldiers, or severely injured soldiers, she was called by the child soldiers "angel", because of her comforting aura in hard times like those.

These women wouldn't be able to meet eachother if it wasn't for the near-death experience Yelena faced one time. She got shot by a hidden enemy, fainted from the blood loss and was taken to the nursery right away, they couldn't afford to lose her. That's when you saw the look in her eyes, that look, and you knew that death was upon the jewel of the battlefield, and you knew that if she died, everyone else will die, you tried as hard as you could to stay cool during the surgery, but you were breaking, because of all the hope that was layed on her shoulders, she was the hope of everyone else in that place to return home someday, even if Russia didn't won the war, her strenght will keep a few alive. So there you were, assisting the surgery of the one that could do something to keep everybody safe and triying to act like it didn't meant a thing. At the end, she survived, and with her, the dreams of returning to your home, you were the one assigned to take care of her, and you were going to make sure Yelena survived.

Part two: Uncanny how she remind her of her little lady.

—"¿Yelena Armanovna?" You asked to the blonde girl laying on the bed.

"Yes" she answered without taking her deep eyes out of the book.

You told her that it was your bed she was in, pointing at your last name on the post-it next to the bed, then showing her the same mark on the bed across the room where it said: "J. Armanovna".

"Ah, i hate when they misspeal it, it's Yelena with a "Y". Well, sorry, but this is the only bed i can sleep in, i'm kinda tall, you can use mine, i will give you a cookie for your kindness." She concluded with a little smile, you notices how her voice was way sweeter than you could think considering how menacing her looks were.

At the end you decided to let her keep the bed, thinking it wouldn't mean anything, how wrong you were, now you could look at her sleeping without moving from the bed, and you did it, you thought it was so creepy and you wanted to stop, but you couldn't, why? Why were you obsessed with the sight of her closed eyes and dry lips at night? Why did she gave you this insane feeling of comfort and loss at the same time? It was so uncanny.

No matter how weird It felt, you couldn't escape from Yelena, she was your roommate, and your classmate in some of your classes, on top of that, she was quite nice, a very smart lady with a pleasent personality, so you had no excuse to be mean or distant whenever she asked about your day, or started a small talk when the professor was late. Along with that sort-of friendship, you also knew Yelena's group; a beautiful girl with raven hair named Pieck, a blonde sarcastic man named Zeke, sometimes his brother Eren, and Hanji, a very excentric and funny person. These people were good friends to you, more than you expected, and that confirmed you: there was nothing wrong about Yelena, and you had no reason to be disturbed by her… Well, to be honest, there it was a little thing that made you upset, Pieck said that Yelena liked Zeke, again, you had no reason to be mad, but you were anyway. Why did you felt so attached to this lady? Why did you did what you did?

It was 2:00 am, you couldn't sleep and you were so ashamed of being doing what that thing, what thing? Writing a love letter, a love letter to Yelena, with a pseudonym, with the first word that popped into your head: "Babooshka". You put perfume on the paper, and you signed it under that name, a scented letter, when you were finished, you let the envelope under your bed, and let it on Yelena's locker.

Part three: How she was before the tears.

She woke up, feeling dazed and almost disappointed for being alive, when Yelena saw you, she recognized you for the stories of her colleagues, "Angel?" She guessed.

"Hello", you smiled and giggle a bit for that nickname, "My name is y/n y/ln, and i will take care of you until you are better"

"If i'm with you means i'm already dead, you only take care of the ones that are almost there." Yelena asserted with a careless attitude.

You wanted to protest, but it was meaningless, you wouldn't make her upset in her state, "May i ask how is your wound feeling? Are you in pain?" You kept that polite and sweet smile on your face.

You kept taking care of Yelena, she healed way too soon, her body wanted to stay alive, but you couldn't say the same thing about her. You got to meet the real jewel of the battlefield, she told you her story, and you told her yours, you two knew everything about eachother, likes, dislikes, and sad pasts. You noticed how Yelena cried softly whenever she thought about her life before, her life before the tears, before the war, when she felt happy. And you also noticed that you could erase that tears, the touch between your soft hands and her ser face, was something magical, something that nobody could understand in that moment, but you two? You knew everything about it, about that love touch, those secret beautiful instants you shared.

You were the one crying when Yelena got better, you were joyful for her recovery, but you knew that she had to go, and after that, you were going to lose her forever, or so you thought. "We can send eachother letters, and we can meet at night." She reassured you while you were laying on her chest, skin to skin, she kissed your forehead and caressed your cheeks with her strong and graceful hands, you purred at her cuddled your body in hers, you liked to kiss her scars, she had so many, it showed how determined she was on the battle and you liked that, the eyes and body of a soldier, and the heart of a suave lover, Yelena was always elegant, her movements could been rough and beastily, but she was soft and neat, whether i'll be fighting, talking, or embracing you. You could say with pride that only you knew this side of Yelena Armanovna, the subtle dominance she always established on her manner mixed with the chivalry and dulcet, that made the blonde woman truly enticing and amusing to anyone with enough luck to discover it.

You knew that your letters to Yelena couldn't be too suspicious, so you took advantage of the fact that no one knew a thing about her, "Babooshka", was the pseudonym you choose, because everyone was going to think that it was from Yelena's grandmother.

Your first letter to her, was this one:

"My dearest Yelena, even though i promised that i wouldn't miss you too much, you have been away for three days and i'm already feeling the lack of your touch, and missing your dark eyes that make me shiver every time. I always thought that i would die without having loved, but you prove me wrong, i love you, i love every part of you, if i could picture perfection, it would be you, your laugh, your hair, the way you talk about home, everything about you would fit the word "perfect".

I swear to God and every star on the sky, that someday i will marry you, someday i will call you my wife, and you will be fully mine, and i will be fully yours. I know that you may think i'm silly because of this wish, but i know in my guts that i will become your wife, no matter how many years or Centuries i have to wait to do it.

All yours, Babooshka."

When Yelena read the letter, she felt nothing but joy, she couldn't use words to describe how in love she was with everyone of your words, and giggled at the idea of marriage, of course she would marry you, she would marry you all the times that she could, she will make you hers every time, and she would submit herself to you every time.

The two lovers kept sending and receiving love letters, and meeting at the comfort and hacen of the night, with only starts and the moon herself as a witness, sharing the intimacy of loving, not always touching two bodies, but the touch of two souls, two tormented souls who found love in a hopeless place.

It has been almost a year since the letters and secret meetings started to happen, Yelena and y/n couldn't be more in love, but tragedy was upon them. A soldier named Floch, started to notice the letters, and one day, he intercepted one, the love words were obviously not from Yelena's grandmother, and with fear of the jewel of the battlefield getting courted by a man who could get her pregnant and useless, this soldier tried to trace the letters, he spend days getting up triying to catch the mailman, and when he did it, he noticed that there wasn't an adress, so it must have been another soldier. After waiting for the guilty one to put the letter on the mail box, he saw y/n y/ln, the nurse, the angel, being a witness of how Satán corrupted the two women into a sapphic relationship, he ran into his superior's arms, showing him the evidence and warning him that given the nature of the letters, he may be grossed out by the devil's pervertion in the two women.

The superior gave orders of keeping Armanovna here, and taking the nurse away, into a convertion field.

Yelena was lucky to hear it, and she ran the fastest that she could into the critical patients nursery, where Y/N was. "Babooshka", she whispered at your ear while grabbing your arm yo take you away, you followed her into the woods. "What happened?" You asked with confution, you saw the look of pure fear un Yelena's eyes.

"They are going to tear us apart, they are are going to take you away, they will torture you there", she was ay the edge of crying, and so did you.

"What can we do?" You couldn't think anything, you were all feelings

"Die, that's our only option, if we run away they will find anyway." The tall one tried to stay calm, failing

"You can't die, you mean hope for everyone!" Your conscience was heavy, you couldn't let Yelena die for you

"Y/n… You are the love of my life, if they take you away, i will kill myself anyway, i can't live without you, i can't just survive anymore, i need to live, when i'm with you i'm alive." Yelena wrapped you in a hug and you felt the tears falling on her face.

At the end, you agreed, Yelena already had a little bottle hidden in her uniform, you both took sips until the bottle was empty, and you kissed and felt eachother like never before, because it was the last time, those were your last hours of life. You passed away after two hours, you were sleeping in Yelena's arms, while she was singing a lullaby from her hometown.

She started with a cracked voice; "I know i do not have silver or gold like many others,

but i promise that i will wrap my bride in silk" she stopped to cry a little.

"and i will love her with such depht,

that all my lacks she will forget,

and she will love until the end… "

Yelena cried louder, and before falling asleep, and looked at your corpse with adoration.

I'm all yours, Babooshka.

Part four: Babooshka

She woke up, ready for the exams, dressed with her usual suit, and put a lucky charm on her pocket.

She was getting to class when she remembered, "my lucky pen is in my locker", so she went to get it, and saw a letter that fell sloppylly on her perfectly organized locker. She looked at the envelope and read "Babooshka", It clearly wasn't from her grandmother, one, because she would have written in "the tongue of mother Russia", two, because she was a bitter old woman that didn't write her, never, not even on her birthday, and three, because it was on her locker, not the mailbox. She opened it go find a love letter that has essence of a known perfume, she received the letter with a strange delight, smelling it and making a place on her locker for the piece of paper.

These letters came one by one every week, and she knew they were from y/n, but Yelena couldn't help to love the letters, and she wanted to keep collecting more and more.

She decided to shoot her shot after two months, when you two were studying together, she kissed your lips out of nowhere, leaving you completely confused and flustered.

"I- i thought you liked Zeke…"

"Oh, i did" Yelena acted so shamelessly "But then you came."

"Do you say that a lot?" You asked annoying trying to shield from your notorious blush

"No, just you, Babooshka. I don't know why, but you make me fee… alive? I feel so close to you since i saw you."

You didn't know what to do, you felt the same way, and you were way too nervous to think a witty reprise.

"Why did you choose the pseudonym Babooshka?" Yelena have been wanting to ask you for a long time.

"For real? I don't know, it just, familiar? I guess"

"Ok, then" she smiled and pulled you closer

"I'm all yours, Babooshka."

#yelena headcanons #yelena #yelena aot #yelena x reader #yelena snk #yelena supremacy #yelena fanfic #aot fanfiction #babooshka #Babooshka songfic

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userpurple · 2 years

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hi ana! whenever i see you on my dash i feel like sending you a long ass ask lmao. anyway my college officially started last friday. its been like 4 days and i already hate everyone and everything. people are just so dumb, like they ask the stupidest possible things on the group chat. and the boys crack such shitty jokes. 😭 also, i am somehow behind in every subject already. 😂 what's up with you? weren't you writing a dissertation or something, is that done? 👀

hellow bunny!💜💜💜whenever i see your long asks in my mail i'm both simultaneously thrilled to answer them and insecure af bc what if she doesn't like essay answers? so thanks for that😂😂😂

oh yeaaa i was going to ask you about it! what’s it like being a postgrad student? i’m curious!

i'm sorry it isn't going well boo :( but also welcome to the club? i'm not a fan of anyone in my college either (for the same reasons as you) but it's been 3 years and somehow i've found ways to survive with modest relations with all of my classmates (just to clarify, i loved my seniors i was friends with so many of them. my own classmates? not so much :/) i promise one of two things will happen - either it gets better or you get used to it.

and pls just mute notifications for the group chat. my class has multiple informal groups. i am in none of them🙉🙈and i am perfectly content. same goes for the shitty jokes just mute your ears and brain🙉🙈🐒i think being behind in your course work is natural in the beginning? you'll catch up and get ahead, i know that for a fact😌😌😌

ah my dear dissertation. the final year thesis i must submit to get my degree. it has been set on the back burner in favor of some more pressing issues that seem to come one after the other like a train :(( i last touched it somewhere in july i think. i have to get back to it hfalkhfa why can't there be more than 24 hours in a day😭😭😭anyway i'm actually supposed to start it only in my 6th and final semester which starts in jan! i started waaaay ahead bc i just love researching stuff😍😁😋🤓

also i ended up watching malec scenes on yt last night i'm not a fluffly sobbing mess at all :D

#asks #answered #avi tag #mutuals #love that you think of sending me asks when you see me on your dash boo #i love answering them

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sword-of-the-writer · 3 years

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It's so great that you're getting more confident in your own writing!! Can I request “I kept every letter…” (72) with Yuri please? Maybe it had something to do with a reunion after the timeskip? Ooh, maybe include a letter or two (but only if you want)! Also if you haven't done the DLC then maybe Sylvain? Ily 💖💖💖🥺🥺🥺

I kinda hate how this ended up but at the same time I’m aware of the fact that I’m currently in a a mindset where I don’t like anything I do soooo yeah. But it was fun to write! So thats a plus! I just didn’t bother proof reading ngl...

Also omg am I ever bad at naming fics ugh don’t look at it

Disclaimer: The way I wrote the reader character implies a lot that they are experiencing depression due to the losing time, general melancholy, and so on. Please don’t push yourself to read this if that could be triggering to you! Its not worth it!

—

The Letters You Sent || Yuri Leclerc

Days seemed to turn to night every time you blinked, and months seem to pass with every breath.

It all seemed to blur together, those five years of many battles and little hope, except for the only thing that seemed to keep you tethered to reality.

Every so often, about 2-3 weeks apart, you would receive a letter from one of your old classmates.

The first had more than caught you by surprise. A traveling merchant had said something strange to you, strange yet oh so familiar... you quickly returned to him and his wares once you had pinpointed where you had first heard such a phrase, but the man only laughed and insisted you take a beautiful porcelain jar.

Later that night you had opened it up, finding a curious little letter inside.

You only knew of one person who would have the influence to get a merchant on board with such a clever plan, especially considering how heavily monitored mail and trade had been by the empire.

Thus your discreet correspondence with Yuri Leclerc had begun.

The two of you tended to talk about everything but the war. It was almost as if you were exchanging amorous notes back and forth like school children. Almost as if there was no war to speak of.

And truthfully, it’s all you had to hold on to the world around you.

Until the letters stopped

—

You swayed and stumbled through the next four and a half months, barely remembering any of it.

At one point, you were visited by another old classmate, Ashe, who helped pull you away from your melancholic routine. He had come to visit between battles, insisting that the two of you go back to the monastery for the promised reunion. You shrugged in indifference, to which Ashe pouted.

You gave in with little protest, as you didn’t have enough strength to fight against Ashe’s decisions. This only worried the freckled boy more and more as he saw just how hard the war had hit you. You were almost lifeless... nothing like what he remembered from your academy days.

You stopped to put up a makeshift camp when night fell, and thats when Ashe pulled an actual response from you. Finally, something more than a shrug!

“What happened, [Y/N]? Clearly, something happened.” Ashe asked softly, face downcast as he anticipated a reply

“I’ve never been much of a solitary person, being alone for so long has really gotten to me.” You admitted, though skipping the details about losing time as you thought it’d only worry the boy further

“I... I’m sorry. We all went our separate ways... but I...”

You knew now that Ashe was consumed with guilt by this. He looked to you not with pity in his eyes, but guilt and concern.

“Well I.. I was exchanging letters with Yuri for a time. Through an old merchant.”

“Oh?” He looked up, “Well, lead it to Yuri to find a clever loop hole. We barely have been able to send letters between the kingdom territories not controlled by the empire.”

“It’s that bad, huh? I suppose I really took the letters for granted.” You sigh

“When was the last time he wrote?”

“The last one I received was...” you paused to think. How many days had past? “Four... four and a half I think?”

“Weeks? Well—“

“Months”

“Oh, I see.” He nodded, “though that doesn’t mean—“

“Whatever it does mean, isn’t anything in my favor. He’s dead... He’s captured... He just doesn’t want to talk to me anymore... the options aren’t good.”

Ashe fell silent, unable to muster a counter argument that made any sense. Looking away, you sigh.

“You won’t be alone anymore, though.” Ashe spoke up

“What?” You turn back, eyes wide with curiosity

“You won’t be alone. I’ve heard that both Sylvain and Felix intend on making it to the reunion, and so I can only imagine who else will be there. You’ll be surrounded by people who care about you.”

“I—“ you pause, sighing “you sound like you’re trying to convince me to go, despite us being halfway there.”

Ashe chuckled “ah, you’re right.”

“Lets just get some rest.”

—

The next day also seemed to blur by, but that was more in the sense that Ashe’s horse was going so damn fast. And then, of course, there were the thieves.

You were the most excited you had been since you read the neat and loopy words scrawled across the parchment neatly placed in that porcelain pot. It really made you fight with more vigor than you had felt since you left.

In the aftermath, you a familiar mint haired silhouette.

“The professor is alive?” You gasped, pushing past your other classmates “oh professor! I’m so glad you’re alive!”

“I’m glad to find that all of you are alive as well,” they answered back “I’m sorry for being away for so long.”

Everyone’s spirits seemed high, including your own. You even seemed to forget about the letters sent by a certain someone! At this point, everyone started to crowd the previously dead professor to question them, and so you shirked away to the back of the crowd.

“Well now, you were quite concerned for the professor, but not me? Thats harsh.” A familiar sing-songy voice teased

You were paralyzed in your spot, unknowing what to do as your thoughts raced a mile a minute. So he was alive? You were overjoyed!

Except that meant... the letters...

You turned on your heal to face the man. He was still taller than you despite how you had grown, his hair had grown out somewhat, and by the goddess he was still stunning!

“Yuri?” You had to mumble, almost as if you were sure he was only your imagination

“Who else? You seriously didn’t forget such a pretty face, did you?”

Disbelief turned to anger the longer you looked at his teasing smile. Why had he stopped sending letters? And then why is he picking on you now? It didn’t make sense.

“Why are you saying such things when you were the one who cut contact with me! Did none of it matter to you.”

Yuri didn’t seem surprised by your words, though clearly they still rubbed him the wrong way.

To avoid causing a fuss, Yuri pulled you aside.

“They did. Do, I mean. I kept every letter.” He huffs

You felt a flutter in your heart from his response, but you still pressed him for answers, “Then what was with the last few months?”

“The last— right.” An exasperated sigh left the man’s lips as he held his head in his hands “the merchant demanded more and more money each time— I had to think about Abyss first.”

“Oh.”

“I wish I said something in my last letter, I do, but I didn’t think it would be the last.”

“I... I’m sorry for thinking the worst.” You admit, the anger now long gone “I just... thought you were... y’know?”

Yuri’s hands lifted to your shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze. You melted at his touch.

“You think I’d die that easily?” He laughed “while I was waiting this whole time for you to come back?”

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe3h x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem three houses x reader #yuri leclerc fire emblem #fe3h yuri #yuri leclerc x reader #yuri leclerc #yuri fe3h #fe3h yuri x reader #yuri x reader #ashen wolves yuri #ashen wolves

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superpaperclip · 3 years

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Worlds Collide

Woo, a new RWRB fic! Thank you to @handsomeroyalheretic for letting me use her OC Sophia. | Read on AO3 here.

As soon as Alex woke up, he grabbed his phone, scrolling to find a particular notification.

@Jane-Hoesten: Good morning, hon!

He smiled and tapped on Discord, opening to the conversation with Henry from last night.

@certified-texmex: morning sunshine @certified-texmex: sleep well?

@Jane-Hoesten: I know for a fact we were both awake at 3 AM, and I know for a fact we’re in the same time zone. @Jane-Hoesten: I’m sure you can use that brain of yours to make an inference

@certified-texmex: touche @certified-texmex: is that how you spell that? @certified-texmex: eh idc @certified-texmex: anyway whatre you doing today

@Jane-Hoesten: The usual. Class, volunteering, and writing. You?

@certified-texmex: same @certified-texmex: class, work, n volunteering

Smiling, Alex put his phone down before finally rolling out of bed. Texting Henry had become a daily routine months ago, one that Alex greatly enjoyed. They had been following each other for years before Alex finally sent him a message one day. Since then, they talked at least once a day, their friendship quickly growing and flourishing. It was always a nice reprieve from his absolute ass of an upstairs neighbor.

Alex and his neighbor hadn’t had more than a few interactions, Alex didn’t even know his real name- just a nickname, Fox, that one of his friends called him- but that was more than enough for him to have shown his true colors. The first day the guy had moved in three years ago, Alex had gone to his apartment to welcome him to the building. But as soon as Fox opened the door, he had slammed it on Alex’s face, leaving him in the hallway with a plate of slightly burnt cookies in his hands. Since then, they had been verifiable adversaries, going out of their way to avoid each other.

It was a shame- Alex had wanted to get to know him. The rest of the residents in the apartment building were elderly men and women, and while Alex didn’t have anything against him, he had been excited when a guy his age moved in. And, ok, maybe the fact that he was very handsome didn’t hurt. Besides, June and Nora were always bugging him to make more friends. But that had gone completely out the window that first day. Alex wasn’t going to try to force friendship with someone who didn’t want it.

***

When Alex stopped to grab his mail that afternoon, he noticed Fox through the window standing outside of the building, talking on his phone. Lingering at the mailboxes right inside the doorway, Alex couldn’t help but overhear.

“-total arsehole! I don’t understand why. I never did anything to him, he just hates me! Yeah, in my building.” Alex didn’t hear any more than that- he was too angry. Who the fuck did Fox think he was? Did he not remember? Alex huffed back to his apartment, tossing his mail on the couch and heading right to his room. After sending a flurry of ranting texts to June, he opened Discord and went to his conversation with Henry.

@certified-texmex: ugh @certified-texmex: why did i have to get stuck with an asshole neighbor :/ @certified-texmex: f is such a dick @certified-texmex: i did nothing to him but he insists on hating me

@Jane-Hoesten: I’m sorry you have a shitty neighbor😕 @Jane-Hoesten: At least you don’t have to interact with him much. @Jane-Hoesten: Is there anything I can do to help you? @Jane-Hoesten: Do you want to talk about it?

@certified-texmex: nah i already ranted to June @certified-texmex: … @certified-texmex: can i get a sneak peek of what ill see next week? @certified-texmex: if youre comfy w it ofc

Henry was silent for a few minutes, and Alex started to wonder if he messed up. Sure, they’d been flirty, and had sent faceless pictures, but maybe Alex had unknowingly crossed a boundary. Just as he was about to ask if he went too far, a message popped up on his phone.

@Jane-Hoesten: [image0.png] @Jane-Hoesten: Is this what you wanted?

Fuck. Alex was going to die. The picture was a mirror selfie of Henry, his face cropped out. He was wearing a cropped white tank top showing off his pale torso and arms. Fuck. How was he going to survive meeting Henry in person?

***

@certified-texmex: today’s the day sweetheart :) @certified-texmex: you excited?

@Jane-Hoesten: Of course @Jane-Hoesten: I’m looking forward to finally meeting you in real life. @Jane-Hoesten: Are you excited?

@certified-texmex: duh! @certified-texmex: can’t wait to see you!

Today was the day Alex was going to meet Henry. They had agreed to meet at noon at the chess table in Washington Square Park, a popular hangout for NYU students. Alex was almost too excited, and, admittedly, nervous, to eat breakfast. What if Henry wasn’t who Alex thought he was? What if he wasn’t who Henry thought he was? What if they didn’t get along face to face?

Shaking his head, Alex forced himself to ignore his worries and focus on eating some eggs. He managed to make it through his morning class, though his leg was bouncing with nervous energy the whole time and he hardly retained any information. Making a mental note to get a copy of the notes from a classmate, Alex practically sprinted out of the building once class was over. He slowed to a speedwalk as he exited, and then to a leisurely pace as he entered Washington Square Park.

Alex’s stomach was in knots with a mix of excitement, nerves, anticipation, and an unsatisfying breakfast. He found himself scanning the park, though he didn’t know who he was looking for. However, he did see someone that made his shoulders stiffen and his jaw tense.

Heat curled in Alex’s gut as he caught sight of his neighbor sitting nonchalantly at a table. Specifically, the chess table he was supposed to meet Henry at. No. No asshole neighbor, no matter how annoyingly attractive, was going to ruin his first meeting with Henry. Forcing himself to relax, he approached the bench and sat next to Fox.

“What are you doing here?” Internally, Alex cringed at the venom in his voice as he took a seat, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He saw his neighbor’s back stiffen.

“Waiting for someone, not that it’s any of your business.”

Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen, and still no Henry. Alex knew he always liked to be on time, early if possible, and he started to worry. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick message.

@certified-texmex: eta? i dont see you

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his neighbor pull out his own phone. Copier.

@Jane-Hoesten: I’m here. The bench on NYU campus, right? I don’t see you.

@certified-texmex: im sitting on the bench next to the asshole neighbor i told you about @certified-texmex: im the handsome mexican one not the obnoxious blond one

Not 30 seconds after he sent it, Asshole Neighbor gasped and almost dropped his phone, looking wildly from Alex to the rest of the square and back.

“I- you- but I- we-“ The neighbor just gasped at Alex, holding his own phone in his hand. Alex was getting progressively annoyed, both with his neighbor and with Henry for not rescuing him.

“What? What about us?”

“I- I’m @Jane-Hoesten. And you’re @certified-texmex. Aren’t you?” Alex couldn’t believe it. It had to be some kind of trick. His asshole neighbor is his best friend, the person he poured his heart out to, the person he was finally going to meet in person, his Henry? No. No way.

“You’re @Jane-Hoesten? You’re Henry? No way. Lemme see that.” Alex grabbed at his neighbor’s- Henry’s- phone, and in his shock, he let Alex take it. Sure enough, there on the screen was their messages. All of them. Alex and Henry had been living next to each other the whole time, completely oblivious.

“Did- did you know?”

“What? No! Of course not! If I had known, I wouldn’t‘ve complained about you to… you. Although, that wasn’t exactly one-sided.” Alex felt the need to point that out, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Hold on. Your neighbor, F- was that me? I’m the one you’ve been complaining about all this time?” Henry’s voice was incredulous, as if he didn’t know. Alex said as much.

“As if you don’t know. You’ve been an asshole to me since you moved in! I’m not the one who started that.”

“What are you talking about?” At Henry’s baffled expression, Alex sighed and elaborated. “A couple days after you moved in, I baked cookies for you as a ‘welcome to the building’ present. As soon as you opened the door, you slammed it on my face. And then you never acknowledged it or apologized for it.” Henry had the decency to look ashamed, a blush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“You’re right. I was a prick. Not that I can make up for it, but my father had died fourteen months before. I was always a prick at that point, and you happened to catch me on a bad day. I am, truely, sorry.” Alex’s heart leapt into his throat. He didn’t know- how could he- but he still felt horrible.

“I’m sorry, I-” Henry waved a hand, interrupting Alex.

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve at least apologized.”

Yeah, you should’ve.” Alex says, but there was no real ire behind it. They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of them knowing what to say or do. Eventually, Henry broke the silence.

“Okay, I know I’m not who you were expecting, and you’re not who I was expecting, but we have been talking for months now, even though we didn’t know it. Do you… maybe still want to go to lunch?” Henry’s voice is tentative, lifting at the end in a hopeful question. Alex considers Henry’s offer. On one hand, he hates the version of Henry from the apartment building. On the other hand, he’s also @Jane-Hoesten. How does Alex reconcile the two versions of the other man? He decides lunch would be a good place to start.

“Sure.”

***

“Daddy, can you tell me again how you and Papa met?” 5-year-old Sophia was burrowed under the covers of her bed, looking up at Alex with her big green eyes. Alex smiled, affection filling his chest.

“Of course, conejita. Do you want Daddy and Papa to tell you, or just Daddy?” She scrunches up her face in thought, before proclaiming that she wants both Daddy and Papa. Alex ruffles her hair, then stands up from his seat on her bed and sticks his head out of the doorway. Down the hall, he can see Henry on the couch, reading a book and waiting for him. More warth spreads through his chest at the sight. Henry looks up and smiles when he hears his name, closing the book and walking down the hall.

“Yes, love?” Henry kisses Alex’s cheek, and Alex smiles.

“The princess would like us to tell the story of how we met.” Sophia giggles from the bed, and amusement is twinkling in Henry’s eyes. They step back into the room and sit on opposite sides of the bed.

“Well, it started in an apartment building. Your dad had already been living there for a few years when I moved in.” Henry starts the story with a smile.

“And you instantly fell in love!” Sophia exclaims, giggling some more. Alex and Henry exchange knowing looks, almost laughing themselves.

“Not quite, conejita. When we first met… we didn’t exactly get along.”

“That’s right, Soph. We lived next to each other for three years until we started talking. Do you remember what happened next?” Sophia scrunches her face in thought at Henry’s question, then gasps.

“You didn’t know you were talking to each other! Cuz it was online!” She exclaims, a look of pride on her face. Alex and Henry both beam at her.

“That’s right, princess .When we met in person after talking for months, we were very surprised to see each other.”

“But then you fell in love!”

“Yes, we did.” Henry shifts his gaze to Alex, eyes full of affection and warmth and love. Alex loves those eyes. He loves the piercing blue, loves their expressiveness, loves how they look at him. He loves Henry.

#rwrb #rwarb #red white and royal blue #meg writes #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox

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cornholio4 · 4 years

Text

A Date With Prince Ali

Author’s note: I admit I was using this story as an excuse to gush about Knives Out; an enjoyable movie even if you're like me and your biggest exposure to mystery stories are Scooby Doo episodes and movies.Over a year of Ladybug salt and LIla Salt; different types of stories and using pairings with Felix and Damian Wayne (not a fan of either of those pairings to be honest). Then I realised why not try one that is Marinette X Ali as surprisingly enough there are no stories of that yet.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng just sighed when class was just finishing and Lila began spinning off her latest tale about some celebrities that she had supposedly met, really it was quite frustrating how all suckered in they were. Nino told everyone about how his parents were taking his little brother Chris to an appointment so they could have their own party there with him as a DJ.

Lila of course said she would love to come over when she has time and has another story she has been waiting for the right moment to tell them. This made Marinette groaned and Marinette almost missed it when Nino asked if she can expect to find her there.

"Oh no sorry Nino, I already have plans..." Marinette told him and then saw disappointed glances from most of the classmates as this was another occasion she had missed out with Lila involved. "Look sorry but I already have plans; I'm going to go see Knives Out tonight." Marinette explained and everyone looked at her incredulously as everything they knew about the movie didn't seem like it would be one Marinette would see.

Then of course Lila was putting up a facade of how disappointed she was that Marinette would not be coming. "Really girl, if you don't want to come because Lila is coming then you can at least be honest and tell us... No need to make up a story on the spot..." Alya chided her and Marinette sighed at her words along with the disapproval that came from Adrien.

It wasn't an excuse and she really did plan to go see the movie that afternoon, she had been looking forward to it for some time.

What her classmates didn't know was that she was actually a big fan of mystery stories, from her childhood of watching mystery movies with her parents (she watched a lot of the TV show about Hercule Poirot), watching Scooby Doo as well as reading the Agatha Christie books. She actually loved watching the mysteries build up with all the clues and red herrings built up and put together in the ending.

In fact when she was accused of stealing by Chloe she was putting her deductive skills to rest and she also got to use them when she began to suspect that Adrien's father was Hawk Moth. She rarely got to use the skills she developed from all the mysteries stories she had seen and read.

True the deductive skills failed to convince her classmates that Lila was lying but that was neither here nor there.

Later she got home and noticed a parcel for her and she opened it to see a necklace looking like it came from the kingdom of Achu and guessed it must have come from her secret admirer again. She had been getting presents and letters in the mail for a small while from a secret admirer saying they had only just gotten the courage to send these tokens of their feelings towards her.

She began wondering who it could be with her first hope being that it was from Adrien but soon her feelings began dying out. It had to do with his words about Lila's lying not hurting anyone.

What instantly could get her out of a Lila related sour mood was wondering who could be her secret admirer; she had yet to tell Alya about it. Mostly because she was pretty much dreading whatever scheme Alya could cook up to find out who it could be.

Some of the presents were mostly jewellery and she figured it must be someone well off, one of her first candidates was Luka but looking at the expensive jewellery it may not be there. Unless the Couffaines were secretly wealthy and were being humble about it to the point of living in their small houseboat. Currently her best candidate would be Kagami.

Her parents were gushing about her latest gift from her admirer and were encouraging her to wear it for the movie today. She thought it would be a little much but she decided to do so. She had changed into a detective outfit she had designed and Tikki was asking about where it came from.

She had explained that during the last summer at a birthday party for one of her cousins; it was a murder mystery role play party that she was so excited for and designed everyone's outfit. Her role was as the lead detective's deputy.

She had gotten to the door but then saw someone enter through the door and it was someone in a hooded jacket along with some sort of chaperone bodyguard. The person took his hood down and saw it was Prince Ali of Achu.

"Prince Ali, what a surprise..." Marinette blurted out remembering when she had last saw him as Ladybug. Rose had told everyone about how excited she was to have ice cream with him and some time ago she had been disappointed to tell them that Prince Ali admitted to her in his last message that he liked someone else and was sending her letters before he can finally confess in person.

She felt sorry for Rose and tried to console her along with the other classmates, Lila made a half hearted story that she was asked by Prince Ali himself to keep it secret that she liked some other princess. Of course they had eaten it up.

Rose had said that Prince Ali really spoke fondly of her and said he hadn't had a chance to see her along but she was kind, clumsy and adorable with a passion for fashion.

Marinette knew that Prince Ali was in France related to a charity he was doing and how it would be a busy one, Lila made up a claim that she would try and see if they can get time to get them to see him again. Lucky Lila counted on the fact that it was reported that he would only be in France for 3 days and how unlikely it would be that he would be in Paris to see them.

A part of her thought about directly asking him about Lila but she decided she didn't want to use him like this to settle a grudge against a bully.

"Marinette, hasn't had time to see you directly..." Prince Ali admitted to her with a blush with Marinette feeling like she should be questioning why he was there. "I managed to make enough time in my schedule to come here and see the girl I liked." Prince Ali told her sheepishly and Marinette froze having put the clues together:

The presents having come at the same time when Rose talked to Prince Ali with his message about sending presents to his crush and the description of this crush.

Uh oh...

"I am... flattered your majesty but... Rose likes you and I am sure a girl code or a sis code exists..." Marinette trying to come up with the best excuse she could do. Her parents were no help as they were gushing about it and how Marinette was always a princess to them.

"Rose is a good friend but I can't help it when I saw a pretty girl and what Rose told me about you; how helpful and kind you are. I noticed your designs on your website and I was amazed by your talents. Plus the achievements you have made." Prince Ali told her and Marinette's cheeks began going red. "Are you doing anything tonight?" He asked hopefully and she shook her head.

"Sorry but I already made plans, I want to see this movie at the cinema called Knives Out..." Marinette told him and Prince Ali put out his hand offering to treat her to a movie. Her brain shut down and it only rebooted again when she noticed she was led to his limo.

She smiled awkwardly at Prince Ali as she sat next to him, she then began wondering if she even liked him like that. He was handsome alright but that was not enough for her to fall for someone; she knew Adrien was handsome but didn't care for him when she thought he was a bully friend of Chloe. She only started to fall for him at the umbrella incident.

Maybe she could give Prince Ali a try as he was a nice boy starting charities and being nothing but kind to Rose.

They reached the cinema and Prince Ali helped Marinette out as they entered with his chaperone and his hood disguise back up, they got in line and paid for their tickets. They got to the screening room and Marinette noticed Aurore and Mireille there who recognised Marinette but not her apparent date. They were going as Chris Evans fans and were wierded out when Marinette revealed she was a mystery fan.

They sat down and the ads and trailers played and followed by a message from the movie's director Rian Johnson asking the audience not to spoil the ending to their friends as it was a whodunit mystery. Marinette with a serious look on her face zipped her mouth shut at that which Prince Ali laughed at and she just looked sheepish.

They watched the movie and during the first act Marinette saw how intentionally horrible most of the characters were. while because she hated being scared was the main reason why she hated horror movies another one was because it was hard to like any of the characters in those movies and want to see them survive.

They laughed at scenes in it (especially at Daniel Craig's hilarious accent) while Marinette was analysing any potential clues and feeling tense as it went on. The movie ended and Marinette left with Prince Ali gushing with the others about how good it was but Marinette made a move of asking they be silent about spoilers when they got out of the cinema room.

Marinette took mystery stories very seriously.

They got out of the cinema and Marinette gave him a kiss on the cheek as they went began smiling awkwardly at each other. Then somebody shouted that it was Prince Ali and they just noticed his hood fell down. They quickly got back into the limo and it drove off.

The paparazzi followed them back to the bakery and Prince Ali helped Marinette out and got her into her home as they had taken pictures of them.

At Nino's party, Nino had told her big story and was going on about how twenty minutes ago Prince Ali phoned her about some paperwork he had just finished at the moment to open an orphanage in her name.

Then Rose screamed out looking at her phone saying Prince Ali was in Paris right now and was seen exiting their local cinema with a date! She was gushing about Prince Ali finding love with her crush but then the classmates began looking at Lila asking about what she had just said despite her attempts to change the subject.

Curse the horrid timing.

Rose's eyes were bulging and told everyone to come and see who it was and everyone was speechless when they saw the photos. Lila looked herself and let her frustration get the better of her and ranted about Marinette on the spot.

#Ml salt fic #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #lila salt #oneshot #drabble #fanfic #also on ao3 #also on fanfiction.net #also on ao3 and fanfiction #also on fanfiction and ao3 #prince ali #Marinette X Prince Ali #i promise no Knives Out spoilers #no Knives Out spoilers #Knives Out

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emgkheadcannons · 4 years

Text

So accidentally read this ask wrong from @positivecorrelation, and thought it was about them ending their beef, went with that, and wrote everything below this. I just rechecked the ask and realised what you were asking for. I will make it work.

I don’t have a set headcanon on how they make up, but one of my favorite ideas is that Cassie, and Hailie team up to end the feud. So I started writing an entire fic, but I really wanted to post this so here is the headcanon and most of the fic.

Cassie convinces MGK to apologise to Hailie, not her dad, since he wronged her first. She does it with perfect little kid logic, and Kelly wants to not only be a good dad but also a good example for his daughter, so he apologises to Hailie.

Hailie would be really happy she received an apology, and would decide that if a 9 year old can convince her dad to apologise, maybe together, and with a little outside help, they can get this feud to end.

This takes place sometime late February 2019.

Cassie hated that her dad was in a feud with Eminem. A lot of people are being mean, harassing him when he goes out, and booing him when he does ‘Rap Devil’. She has noticed that her dad isn’t as happy, and is acting different. He is sleeping more and more.

Cassie had an idea to help him though. If her dad apologises to Eminem’s daughter then that should make things better, not perfect, but it was a starting point. First she needs to find her dad, so she can convince him that he needs to apologise to hailie. She finds him easily enough in the living room, working on a song.

She starts by asking about the beef, and why they are fighting. Then she asked if he apologized, which she knows he did, but to the wrong person.

“But dad, but your tweet was about his daughter, not him. Shouldn’t you have apologized to Hailie instead?” Cassie asks.

Kelly freezes, thinking about what his daughter said. His tweet was about Hailie. She was the one he insulted, but he tried to apologize to Eminem. He never thought about how his comment affected her. If some kid had said something rude to his daughter, he would expect them to apologize to her.

“You’re right Cassie. I should have apologized to Hailie.”

“Then why don’t you? I bet she would appreciate it.”

“It’s a little too late for that now, pumpkin.”

“It’s never too late to say you’re sorry.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“No it’s not. You made a mistake, you acknowledged you made a mistake, now you just need to tell her you're sorry, and that you won’t do it again. See simple.”

“You are right again, sugar bean. How did you get so smart?” Kelly asks as he scoops his daughter up, as she breaks out into a fit of giggles.

Later that night, after he has put Cassie to bed, Kelly thinks about what she said. He really should apologize to Hailie for his tweet, but how could he get in contact with her. It’s not like Eminem, or anyone close to her will help him, and a public apology will look like a copout after all the feuding he and Em have done.

“Fuck. I can’t set a bad example for Cassie.”

He scrolls through his contacts on his phone, until he sees Travis Barker’s name. ‘Maybe he can give me some advice.’ He checks the clock; it was only 10:30, Travis should still be up.

After two rings he picks up

“Hey Kelly. What’s up?”

“Do you know a way I can get in touch with Eminem’s daughter Hailie?”

“Why do you want to get in contact with Hailie Scott?” Travis asks threateningly.

“I just want to apologise to her, nothing else. My daughter was asking about my feud with Eminem, and asked why I apologised to him, and not Hailie, since it was Hailie I tweeted about. I thought about what she said and it’s a good point. I wronged Hailie, therefore I need to apologise to Hailie, but I have no idea how.”

“So why call me?”

“For advice.”

“Okay. Let’s think. You could try DMing her”

“I highly doubt she would read a DM from me, if she hasn’t out right blocked me on everything.”

“Right. No one will probably give you her phone number. So maybe write her a letter.”

“A letter really. Even if I do write her a letter, I don’t have an address to send it to.”

“I can actually help with that. You just write the letter. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Okay, a letter it is.”

“Oh and Kelly, you better be telling the truth about this. I don’t mind helping you, but if this is just a way to get to Eminem by using Hailie, or something like that, I will personally drive your career into the ground.”

“Don’t worry Travis I am serious about this. I’ll leave the envelope unsealed so you can read it before it’s sent off.”

“Okay. Call me when you’re done.”

Kelly puts his phone down, grabs pen and paper, and starts drafting his letter.

It’s harder than he thought it would. Swallowing his pride, admitting his faults, and humbling himself is hard, but he finally does, and the letter shows his regret for his actions. Now he just has to find that nice stationary someone gifted him.

******

Hailie was sick and tired of all the attention she has been getting from her dad’s feud with Machine Gun Kelly. She prefers the quiet life she was making for herself, but now she barely got a moment of peace. What makes it even worse is that she has never seen her dad so angry, worrying that things will escalate beyond diss tracks and insults. Hailey doesn’t want anything bad to happen to her dad, because he feels obligated to defend her honor.

She knows her father’s beef with MGK isn’t just about the tweet Kelly posted back in 2012 about her being hot when she was 16, (Kelly says he didn’t know how old she was at the time), and that it was more about how disrespectful MGK was to her dad, saying he was better than her dad, and claiming how Eminem was hindering his career, banning him from Shade 45, and whatnot, but she was tired of this shit. Yeah MGK was a prideful idiot, who was full of himself, but her dad did block him from Shade 45, and some of his friends have decided not to associate with Kelly. When Kelly really did try to talk to Eminem in private, and end their feud, he threw it back in the blonds face, making Machine Gun Kelly double down, and release that diss track, ‘Rap Devil’. Her dad then destroyed him with ‘Killshot’.

While going through her mail, she notices a letter. She couldn’t think of who would send her a letter. Maybe it was a former classmate, or a thank you card. Shrugging she opens the envelope, and pulls out the paper inside.

The letter read,

Hailie,

I am sorry for the tweet I posted in 2012 about you being ‘sexy as fuck’, making you uncomfortable, and for apologising to your dad instead of you.

When I posted the tweet I didn’t know you were only sixteen, and when I found out your age I should have taken it down immediately, and apologized to you, but I didn’t. Instead I made a half assed apology to your dad, who I should have apologised to anyway, but for a different reason.

My daughter helped me see my mistakes, and convinced me that it’s not too late to apologise for what I did. I am going to set a better example for her. I have deleted the tweet, and I promise to never do something like that again. I will make a public apology, if that helps you, or if there is something else you need me to do, please tell me. I want to make up for what I did to you.

I was wrong for what I did, and what you had to deal with because of my actions.

I know I don’t deserve it, and that you in no shape or form have to give it to me, but I would like to ask for your forgiveness.

Sincerely,

Colson Baker, (A.K.A. Machine Gun Kelly)

Hailie was shocked. Machine Gun Kelly sent her a handwritten letter, to apologise for something he did years ago. No one else who had targeted and dissed her has ever apologised to her. Her dad sure, but never her. She rereads it just to make sure.

She opens up twitter, and the tweet is gone. Looking back at the letter, Hailie smiles. Maybe Machine Gun Kelly wasn’t as bad as she thought. She did want to know how he got her address though.

Going back to her phone, she reopens twitter, and goes to Machine Gun Kelly’s profile. She unblocks him, before opening her DMs.

I got your letter. How did you get my address? - Hailie

A few minutes later she got a reply.

I’m glad you got my letter. Don’t worry I don’t have your address. I gave the letter to Travis Barker. He’s the one who got a hold of your address. - MGK

Hailie frowns at her phone. Who was Travis Barker? His name sounds familiar. After a quick google search, she sees he is the drummer for Blink-182, and that he probably got it from Paul Rosenberg. Okay that made her feel better. Going back to twitter, she sees that she has a new message.

Would you mind if I told my daughter that you got my apology letter? - MGK

Hailie thinks about it before typing her reply.

Yeah, go ahead, I don’t mind if you tell her. This doesn’t mean that I forgive you though. - Hailie

I understand, and thank you. Again I am sorry for my tweet, and dragging you into this beef. - MGK

Hailie doesn’t respond. She debates whether or not to reblock MGK, but decides against it. He really did seem remorseful for what he did, and is trying to change to be better for his daughter. That gets Hailie thinking, if Machine Gun Kelly’s daughter can convince him that he needs to apologize to her, and not her dad, then maybe together they can get their dad’s to stop fighting.

Hailie has a plan to end this stupid feud, get her dad from being so angry all the time, and hopefully get her peaceful life back. She will need Cassie’s help, and a few other people too, for this to work. First thing she does is call up Paul Rosenberg.

“This is Paul.”

“Hey, Paul this is Hailie. Do you have a second?”

“Sure. What can I do for you?”

“First are you with my dad.”

“No. Should I be?”

“No, it’s better if he isn’t around for this. Did you give my address to Travis Barker?”

“No, he gave me the letter to mail. I didn’t read it though. He said it was something important, and asked me not to read it. Is everything okay? Was there something in there I should Know about?”

“The letter was important, and you did the right thing trusting him. I just wanted to know how he got my address.”

“Okay, I’m glad my judgement was good, but this has me a little worried. Will you tell me what the letter was about?”

Hailie debates whether or not to tell him. On one hand the letter was an apology to her, she doesn’t have to tell anyone about it. On the other hand, if she tells Paul nothing, he might tell her dad about it in concern, which would ruin her plans. She makes her decision.

“It was a handwritten apology letter from Machine Gun Kelly.”

There is a moment of silence before Paul responds. “WHAT!”

“You heard me. He apologized for the tweet he posted about me, making me uncomfortable, apologising to my dad instead of me, and for dragging me into this stupid feud. He even deleted the tweet.”

Hailie can hear Paul tapping on his phone, probably checking to see if it was really deleted. “Damn, he really did delete it. Do you know what brought this on?”

“Yeah, his daughter.”

“Okay, makes sense.”

“So you know how you have been trying to get my dad to end this feud with him, well this gave me an idea. I just need to know if you are in.”

“I’m listening.”

“If Cassie can change her dad’s mind, then I should be able to do the same with my dad, right? Right. So I need you to do a couple of things. I need a way to get in contact with Cassie, and her mom. I will also need you to back me up later on.”

“Okay I can probably get in touch with Cassie, and her mom. Give me a few days. And I will back you up but I will need more details.”

“I will tell you the details later. I need to make a few more calls.

Next people she recruits are Alaina and Whitney. They have noticed how agitated Eminem has been lately, and agree to help with her plan. He also ropes in Travis Barker, Tommy Lee and Elton John, to help them too.

Paul came through with Emma’s, Cassie’s mom, phone number, and an understanding that Emma will listen to her idea, but she decides if Cassie is involved.

Hailie explains her plan. She and Cassie were going to convince their dad’s to meet, in hopes of ending the beef. Colson already tried once, but Em turned it down. This is where Cassie came in. She needed to convince her dad that he should try again, that he should take the higher ground, and be the better person. You know, set a good example. Emma can help with this too. Hailie has the harder job of convincing her dad to do the same. That he has defended her, and should talk with MGK. Once they have convinced both men to meet, they will have to pick a date that works for everybody. They will have Paul, Travis, Elton, and of course Hailie and Cassie, there when the two meet. Hopefully having both of their daughters there will keep things civil long enough to get something done. Paul hopes a collaboration comes out of it, but Hailie and Cassie just want their dads to be happy again.

******

Over the next few weeks Hailie e-mailed, Cassie and Emma,over how to get the two rappers to end their feud.

******

Hailie, Whitney, and Alaina have been dropping hints, and saying things, about ending arguments, burning the hatchet, and letting bygones be bygones. Em is really proud of his girls, being so mature, but fails to get the hints. Whitney even stages a fight with a friend, with an epic apology, but it still goes over Em’s head.

Now it is time for Hailie to confront her dad on his feud.

She has made it this far, there’s no turning back now. Hailie straightens her back, squares her shoulder, and walks into her dad’s office determined. Her dad looks up from some papers and smiles. It’s nice to see him smile.

“Hey Hailie.”

“Hey dad.”

“What brings you over? Not that I’m not glad to see you, it’s just you have been busy lately.”

“I came to talk to you. It’s about your feud with Machine Gun Kelly.”

The smile falls off Eminem’s face and his eyes harden. “You don’t need to worry about that son of a bitch. I’ll take care of him.” He stands up and heads over to the window.

Hailie takes a deep breath. “No dad. It was me he tweeted about. Everything has gotten out of control, and I have now been dragged into your stupid feud.”

Em turns around. “I know sweetie, and I’m sorry for that, but don’t worry I am crushing that blond asshole. His career is practically over.”

“Dad, that's not okay. Yeah, he is an asshole, and he deserved to be knocked down a few pegs, but this is overkill.”

“Hailie, this is my business. What I do…” Em didn’t get to finish her sentence.

“No, this isn’t just your business. It’s mine too, and I get a say in what happens. Machine Gun Kelly wrote me a letter…” Hailie didn’t get to finish what

“HE FUCKING CONTACTED YOU. I’M GOING TO KILL HIM. THAT STALKING SON OF A…” Em yells, as he heads for the door. Hailie steps in front of him, blocking the exit.

“No you're not. Now calm down. We are going to finish this conversation.”

“Hailie Jade Scott Mathers you better move out of my way.”

“No dad. I am a full grown woman, not a little girl anymore, and you are going to listen to what I have to say. Yes he wrote me a letter. He did it to apologise for what he did. The tweet, the feud, everything. Do you know how many other people have apologised to me for stuff they said? Have expressed regret for what they did to me? Not how many regret having to deal with you, but feel bad for what they did to me.”

Eminem thinks for a second, but doesn’t respond. Hailie continues.

“None. That’s how many. Everyone says sorry to you, not me. He is the only one. He admitted that he should have given me an apology for the comment, and even though it is years late, he still said sorry. Even after this whole feud, ‘Killshot’, and everyone hating him, Colson Baker is a big enough man to admit when he is wrong.”

“Just because he said ‘sorry’ doesn’t mean…”

“No dad, he didn’t just say ‘sorry’, he swallowed his pride, took responsibility for it, deleted the tweet, asked what he could do to make it up to me, and asked for my forgiveness. He wants to be a better role model for his own daughter. Here, read it for yourself.” Hailie hands him the letter, and waits while he reads it.

Em reads the letter. The kid really did set his pride aside and ask for his daughter forgiveness. He rereads the letter just to make sure he read it right, and he did. He was still unbelievably pissed that Machine Gun Kelly was somehow able to get to Hailie, but after reading the letter he doesn’t want to kill the blond idiot anymore.

“Okay he apologized to you, what do you want me to do? Just let him get away with running his mouth?”

“You have already won. He admitted that he couldn’t respond to ‘Killshot’. He tried to contact you more than once to end it but you said no. What I want is for you to be like Machine Gun Kelly, swallow your pride and set a better example for Alaina, Whitney, and I, and at least meet with him, so this stupid feud can end.” Hailie says as she holds her dad’s satire.

Em looks away, and sighs. “I don’t really have a choice in this so I?”

“You do have a choice. You can be an adult and meet with him, or you can be petty, and Alaina, Whitney, Paul, Fifty, Royce, Elton, Dre, and I will be disappointed in you.”

“Of course you got everyone to back you up. Fuck! Fine, I will meet with him, but I am making no promises about ”

Hailie relaxes. She will take it. For all intents and purposes, her dad has agreed, and she is tired, but she has a sense of accomplishment.

“Thanks dad. I’ll have Paul arrange the meeting.” She turns to leave.

“Hey, Heilie.”

“Yeah,dad.”

She turns back around, and her dad has wrapped her up in a big hug. She returns it immediately, and stands there for a moment. When they finally break apart Em asks her, “When did you get so smart, Jelly bean?”

“I don’t know dad. I musta learned it from you.”

******

The day of the meeting happens. They are in a studio in LA. It’s a neutral location. Paul, Elton, and Travis are sitting in the room waiting on the others to arrive.

“So, do you think this will actually work?” Travis asks.

“I don’t know darling, but hopefully with their daughters here it will be civil.” Elton replies as he crosses his ankles.

A few minutes later Eminem shows up with Hailie, and he looks put out. “Alright where is the blond fucker?”

“Marshall! I hope you don’t plan on using that kind of language today. Colson is bringing his daughter, and she is only 9.” Elton scolds. Em sighs knowing better than to argue with Uncle Elton about this kind of thing, even though he is pretty sure that she has heard worse from her own dad. He slumps into a chair between Paul and Hailie, already feeling done with the day and this meeting.

Kelly walks in with Cassie on his shoulders, and she is just chatting away, and Kelly is listening to every word she says. He sets her down in one chair, and takes the one between her and Travis.

“Hi Cassie.” Hailie greets.

“Hi Hailie.” Cassie says with a wave.

Em looks between his and Kelly’s daughters, and then it clicks.

“Fuuuuc-dge, fudge knuckles.” Em has to correct himself remembering that there is a literal child present. Hailie and Travis are snickering. At least Paul and Elton are trying to hide their amusement at his outburst. Em looks over at Kelly who gives him a look saying ‘yeah me too’.

“Our daughters played us.” Em says.

“Yep they teamed up to gang up on us.” Kelly says as he nods in agreement.

Neither rapper speaks, and the silence gets heavier with each passing moment.

“Let’s get this over with.” Em says with a sigh. “Everyone else out. This is between Machine Gun Kelly and me.”

Everyone but Kelly and Cassie begin to protest. Cassie decides to take action. She nudges her dad in the side with her elbow, and whispers in his ear, “Remember Dad be the bigger person.”

“Thanks pumpkin.” He whispers back, gives her a hug. She then grabs hailies hand, and heads for the door. The others follow suit, until it’s just Em and Kelly in the room.

“I’m sorry for tweeting about your daughter. I’m sorry for those things I said about you trying to interfere with my career, and I'm sorry for the other awful things I said about you. I really didn’t mean for that tweet to be rude, but I now see how it looks.”

“Did you fucking practise.”

Kells scratches the back of his head, breaking eye contact, looking down, at the ground. “Yeah with my daughter.” He mumbles out.

“Why did you post that tweet about Hailie?”

“To be honest, I thought she looked hot in it, but I didn’t know how old she was. When I found out how old she was I was disgusted with myself, but didn’t know what to do.”

“Okay fine I can understand that you didn’t know her age before commenting, but it was still shitty.”

“I Know.”

“Don’t ever do it again.”

Kelly looks up meeting Em’s Glare. “I won’t.”

Em takes pity on him, seeing that he is being sincere.

“I’m sorry too, kid. I’m sorry I banned you from Shade 45, talked shit about you, and called you a mumble rapper. You’re not.”

“Thank you.” A soft smile appears on Kelly’s face. Em can’t help but think it looks good on the blond.

Em can’t help but smirk. He was going to have fun picking on Kelly. “Am I really your idol?”

Kelly goes pink, and looks away. “Shut-up.”

“Oh no. You really looked up to me didn’t you? You wanted to be just like me. I bet you had all my albums, and posters of me.”

“Yeah but they always say never meet your heroes.” Kelly freezes, not meaning to say that out loud, making Em stop. Yeah Kelly did look up to him. Kelly really didn’t do anything, beside the tweet. Em did hinder his career, and was an ass to him, but the entire time they were feuding, Kelly still said he looked up to him.

“Look I’m sorry I was an ass to you. You just wanted recognition from me. Instead I dissed you, called you a mumble rapper. You tried to end this multiple times, and I didn’t want to hear it.”

Kelly is still blushing but he is looking at Em again.

“Your lyrics aren’t half bad either.”

The blond lights up. “Really?”

“Yes, need some work but they are pretty good.”

“Thank you.”

They sit there again not knowing what to do. Then Kelly pipes up. “So does that mean our feud is over?”

“Yeah it’s over.”

“What do we do now.”

“N

Em grabs his phone and texts Paul. Next thing they know Paul walks in. “Now that that is out of the way, we can call this beef over. I will set something up for the press.”

The details are hashed out. Kelly is going to open up for Em later this year, and neither one is going to sing their diss tracks of each other. Kelly does get to keep the moniker ‘Rap Devil’, to Paul’s disdain. Em thinks it’s funny (read cute).

Everyone parts ways.

Hailie links with her dad’s arm as they go down the hallway.

“The way you were picking on him, almost felt like you were doing it to get his attention.”

Em blushes as the statement.

“OMG you do think he is cute, that’s why you don’t want to give up this beef.”

“No I don’t. He’s an asshole who needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Okay Dad whatever you say.”

She hurries on head, but turns and gives her dad a wink. A new plan in mind.

#emgk

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mysterioh · 4 years

Text

La Douleur Exquise - Ch. 2

PAIRING: STEVE ROGERS X READER X BUCKY BARNES

SYNOPSIS: Bucky promises to write to you every day after you moved away to sunny California, but it doesn’t take very long for him to forget his promise. Luckily, there’s a certain blonde that keeps it for him. Through an exchange of letters, your childhood affection for Bucky blossoms into something more. If only you knew it was Steve that returned those feelings and not his numskull of a best friend.

MASTERLIST

California Dreamin’

December 12, 2010

Greetings from Sunny San Diego!

As the years go by I’m forgetting what winter feels like. The icicles hanging from bare trees, the cold nipping at your cheeks and nose, the howling wind passing by the window when you’re cuddled up in thick blankets on snow days. It’s like my memories are starting to grow numb. Guess I should come over and thaw them out?

I think it’s kinda funny how you’re probably over there freezing to death while I went to the beach with some friends the other day. I know how much you hate the cold so why don’t you come over and I’ll warm you right up?

It’s been five years, can you believe it? It seems like time just flies by as you get older and you’re only left wishing for the past. I think it’s amazing how committed we are to this and there isn’t a day that goes by when I’m not excited for another letter. How have you been lately? Algebra 2 still kicking your butt? It’s not so hard if you’re organized but considering your habits I can see why you’re struggling. Am I sounding mean? Because I should be…

Anyways, there’s this place on the boardwalk called Richie’s Pizza and they claim to have the best New York Pizza in the world. My friends really like going there and I have to pretend like I actually like the stuff. It tastes like cardboard to me. It may have been years but you can’t fool my taste buds when it comes to NY pizza. God, I’m crying just thinking about that damn pizza.

Mind if I get a little serious real quick? It’s something that’s been on my mind lately and I don’t really know who to tell. I don’t trust many people, but I trust you.

Do you ever feel alone even when you’re around others? Cause I do. Yeah, they’re my friends but they’re not my “friends”. Does that even make sense? I can’t really tell them everything and sometimes I feel like they don’t really care much about me. It’s like I’m a third wheel. Sometimes I think it’s my fault. I’m not funny enough or pretty enough. I always feel insecure and pressured. Like I don’t belong.

At least I have you and these letters. Even if I can’t see you, I can feel you and that’s more than enough for me to feel wanted.

Bucky Barnes you are one heckuva dude and I think of you greater than any other person I know.

Sending you the warmth of the California sun,

Y/N

The classroom is warm compared to the wintry chill outside. Steve was one of the lucky ones. Though the classroom walls are bare, the windows were large and everyone wanted to sit in the unsubdued morning light of the winter sun. And Steve just so happened to have the best seat, in the back corner next to the window. The teacher never really remembered the guy in the corner and that made it all the more lovely.

Forgotten from the rest of the room, he took it as the time to finish homework he was too lazy to do the night before and maybe even write a few letters.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky slid into the desk in front of him. He quickly stashes the letter into a folder. “Whatcha working on?"

"Just history homework,” Steve smiled. “What’s up?"

"Nothing much,” he shrugged. “I’m going skating with Cindy after school today you wanna come along?"

His jaw went slack. "Don’t you think I’ll just be third-wheeling?"

"Nah,” Bucky replied. “She’s bringing one of her friends. The ginger with the curls. Uh–Edith or something…"

"Don’t you think you should know your girlfriend’s friends?” Steve sighed.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he plucked at the cuff of his sweater. “We’re just friends."

"Well, the way she clings onto your arm says something else,” Steve said, his tone colored with bitterness.

“It’s nothing,” Bucky brushes him off. “Seriously."

"If you say so,” Steve exhales while shaking his head.

“So is that a no from you?"

"It’s a no from me.” He nods, beginning to write again.

“C'mon, man,” Bucky groaned, “this could be your chance. I really think Beth likes you."

"You said her name was Edith."

"Right, anyway I saw her making eyes at you in the hallway,” Bucky wiggled his brows.

Steve snorted. “I think that was you. No girl looks at me like that, it’s only you."

"That’s because you’re too busy sticking your nose in those books. All you ever do is write. Sometimes I forget what you even look like."

"Thanks, jerk,” Steve said.

“C'mon Stevie, whaddya say?” Bucky enticed him with a striking smile. “It’ll be fun."

"Get out of my desk, Beaverface,” Sam hollered from the door.

Bucky grunted at him but does so. He turns towards Steve before leaving as the teacher strolled in.

“We’re not done here, blondie,” he pointed at him, making his way towards his desk. Steve sinks in his chair, wondering how he was going to get out of this one.

The sounds of chalk tapping against the board signals him to sit up and open up his notebook to a fresh page. He writes the date and nothing else.

Your letter sticks out of the pages and he pulls it out and finds the picture you sent him. He smiled to himself and his neighbors could’ve sworn he was crazy for smiling like a fool. But he didn’t care.

In the picture, you were sitting on the trunk of a car, (probably a friend’s dad’s convertible), with a letterman jacket placed over your shoulders to keep you warm from the cool briny breeze sweeping by a sunset on the beach and flowing through your hair. It’s definitely too big to be yours and he hopes it’s just a friend’s and nothing more.

All he could think about was being there with you.

Under the California sun. By the waves of the Pacific. The musty air coming from the ocean flowing through his hair. The sand sticking to his legs and feet. The sound of your giggles echoing along the shoreline as he chases you into the water. And maybe as the sun sets, he’d get to hold your hand and share the view with you. Then when the sun lays to sleep he’ll look into your eyes and you’ll look into his. He’d dip his head, lower his lips, and close the gap between until he finds yours in a—.

“Mr. Rogers,” Steve bolts up at the sound of his name. His classmates giggle but Mrs. Lewinsky was not amused. His cheeks burn a bright red out of embarrassment. “Nice to know you’ve decided to come back to the real world. Now get your book open to page forty-seven and read the first paragraph."

"Y-yes,” he said, fumbling with the pages of his copy of The Catcher in the Rye.

“That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty. Even if they’re not much to look at, or even if they’re sort of stupid, you fall in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. They can drive you crazy. They really can."

"Bills, bills, bills,” your dad drones as flips through the day’s mail in his hand. “Junk, ooh coupons."

"You don’t have to narrate it,” you deadpanned, walking over to the kitchen sink to drop in some dishes.

“Well, then I guess you wouldn’t care about this letter from Bucky Barnes. 1463 Mulligan Drive."

Your ears perk at the sound of Bucky’s name and you dash over to him to take it.

"Uh-uh,” he shook his head, swiping the letter away from within hand’s reach, “I wanna know who this Bucky Barnes even is."

"It’s a friend!” You exclaimed. “From New York!"

"Wait,” he furrows his brow. “You’re still friends with those kids?"

You groaned, taking the letter from him. "Yes, I am,” you replied, walking away.

“In the day and age of social media, you’re writing letters,” he stated amused. “You kids know how to write a letter? Are you even sending it to the right person?"

"His name is on the envelope, dad,” you sighed, walking towards the staircase. “Besides there’s something more heartfelt about writing letters. It’s more romantic so to speak."

"Romantic?” He questioned with a raised brow. “What’s this kid writing to you about?”

You climbed the stairs towards your room. “Nothing you need to worry about,” you teased, running up and into your room.

You lock the door to limit any nosy dads. Plopping onto your bed, you stare at the letter with a wide grin. You brush your fingers across his name on the front. It was all capitals and leaning towards the right. You rip open the envelope carefully and pull out a paper.

Your heart beats wildly and your cheeks burn. It gets like this everytime and as the days go by it feels like it’s getting worse. Who would’ve thought one letter would do so much to a person?

December 17, 2010

Greetings from the saddest place on earth!

It’s supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year and yet it feels like the worst.

It’s gray and boring. There’s dirty snow stuck to the curbs. And everyone gets an extra dose of cranky in their bones. Trust me when I say, forgetting the winter cold isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I slipped on ice and almost died this morning on the way to school. So that was pretty fun. I also almost got detention today because Sam decided he wanted to play football in the hallway.

I sound like the grinch or something. I promise you I’m not anything like him. Just down on my luck I suppose. The winter doldrums, I guess? You make me jealous with all your talking about warm, sunny days by the beach. It’s not fair. How about you bring some of that California sun over here? Cause I’m too cold to come over there.

Best New York pizza huh? I have to laugh! It’s probably so hot over there that it burned their taste buds off. I feel bad for you, but not that bad. It’s what you get for dragging my Algebra skills.

By the way, I’m doing a lot better. I got a B+ now instead of a C. Maybe I just didn’t understand imaginary numbers. Like aren’t they all imaginary??? Math is stupid and I’d rather stick to something more practical like English or History.

I know exactly how you feel and just know if you can’t tell anyone anything, you can always tell me. I’ll always listen (or read haha) what you have to say. It’s the best part of my day.

I don’t know why but I always end up distancing myself from others. My friends haven’t changed. It’s still the same old gang, but it feels different ever since you left. I feel like I’m not a good friend for distancing myself from them. They like me and I like them but there’s just something missing. A sense of understanding? A sense of belonging? I can’t really pick it out. There’s a plethora of reasons.

(Plethora means a large amount of something. Start reading books you ignoramus.)

I feel alone. I feel lost. Like there’s nothing left to look forward to. At least I have your letters and waiting for the next one only makes me look forward to another day where I can read about your day. Wishing I could be a part of it. Maybe someday in the future. Hopefully someday soon.

I remember something my Grandma once told me. Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we’re here we might as well dance.

If we ever got the chance would you dance with me?

Best wishes from the Atlantic to the Pacific,

Bucky

p.s. Not pretty enough? Liar. I saw your picture. They gotta put your face on a Cover Girl Magazine. Anyone who says otherwise is gonna catch these hands.

TAG LIST: @chuckennuggets1213 @joeyrumlow @bigbuckyenergy

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #modern au #2kbollywood

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dakotacrisis · 5 years

Text

Transferred (4)

Less salt. More sweetness. Kagami is my sword child.

---

First day of school! A new start!

Marinette was trying to remain positive as she got ready for her first day at her new school. She kept herself grounded with the reminder that whatever happened at least Lila wouldn’t be there. After Chloe, Lila, and Hawkmoth she could take on anything. Hopefully…

No! She can do this! It’s just school.

She packed up her bookbag and made a quick check of herself in the mirror before heading out. Possible downside to not having school be right across the street was how much later she would be to class if she overslept. Not like it was her fault! Nighttime akumas are the worst. There should be a rule stating that classes start at least an hour or two later if there was an akuma the night before. Give Paris’ hardworking heroes the time to rest before carting them off for history lectures and chemistry homework.

As she left her house she saw the students of her old high school filtering into the building. Why should she look on at her school with bittersweet longing? Wasn’t like they were looking at her bakery with woe now that she was gone. She snapped her attention back to the street and started the journey to her new school. It didn’t take long, a quick walk to the underground, ride the train for ten minutes, another short walk and she was at the front doors.

It was a formidable school. Larger than her old school by far and decades older. College Lycee Carnot. Beautiful and ominous. Probably would have been mistaken for a castle if not for the dozens of school students milling about out front.

Practically every student around her had someone next to them. No one was without a friend as they entered the building. Her mind wandered to Alya and what the others might be talking about before shaking the thought from her head. They’re not thinking about her. She won’t think about them.

Marinette took a deep breath and entered the school. She had to stop by the principal’s office for her complete class schedule and map of the building. Now if only she knew where it was.

“Um, excuse me,” She approached one of the other teenagers. An asian looking girl with bright pink dyed hair and a yellow sundress. “Can you tell me where the principal’s office is?”

“Who are you?” The friend with her asked. They had dark red hair in an undercut, jeans with more tears than denim, and reminders and doodles covering their arms.

“I’m Marinette, I just transferred here.” She told them. “I don’t know my way around yet so I could use some directions.”

“Principal’s office is down this hall, take a right, up the stairs, hang a left and it’ll be at the end of the hall. Big old wooden double doors, can’t miss it.” The pink haired girl told her.

“Thank you, and you were?”

“I’m Nanette and this is my friend Quinn.” Pinky pointed to the redhead. “Normally we’d show you the way but we’re going over notes right now so…”

“Oh it’s no problem, I think I can manage.” she thanked them again and took their directions up to the principal’s office.

The principal welcomed her to the school, gave her a schedule, a map, and a hall pass and sent her on her way to her first class.

After getting turned around a couple times Marinette finally found her homeroom. Nervously she knocked on the door and a short, stout man with slicked back orange hair opened it. “You must be the new girl, are you?”

“Yes, I got a little lost on my way here.” she waved the not very helpful map in her hand. “And you’re Mr. Babineaux?”

“That I am,” he stepped aside to let her in, “Attention class, today we are welcoming a new student to our school. Care to introduce yourself?”

“Oh um,” she looked at the faces staring at her and gulped, “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I just transferred from College Francoise Dupont.”

“Does anyone have questions for Marinette?” Mr. Babineaux said.

One of the students raised their hand. “Isn’t Francoise Dupont that school where the mayor’s daughter attends?”

“Uh yeah, Chloe and I were in the same class.” Every year since they were tiny kids unfortunately.

There were a few nods.

Another hand shot up. “Doesn’t Adrien Agreste attend Dupont as well?”

“Yes. He’s a very good friend of mine.” She felt warmer talking about Adrien. Surprise.

There were more excited whispers among the class.

“Not to sound rude but why would you transfer away from such a prodigious school? I know ours is nothing to sneer at but with so many high profile classmates it doesn’t seem to make any sense.” Another kid asked.

“Well that is...uh…” She didn’t want to come right out and say that she was bullied out of her old school.

“She probably couldn’t keep the grades.” Someone else said.

“That’s not--”

“A lot of akuma victims come from that school too, don’t they? What if she was one and that’s why she had to leave.” Another voice piped in.

“I’ve never been--” Marinette tried to cut in but was promptly cut off.

“Do we really want such a harbinger of bad luck in class?”

“Excuse you.” A figure from the back stood up.

Kagami.

“Who are all of you to form opinions on someone you don’t even know? I agree that Dupont is a good school but Marinette had her own reasons for leaving. Now how about you all be quiet and ask her some real questions.”

Kagami sat back down as the class hushed itself into quiet apologies. Marinette never thought she’d be so thankful to see her romantic rival in all her life.

A few tense seconds went by before one of the students raised their hand. Marinette recognized it as the same girl she asked for directions earlier, Nanette.

“Are your parents the ones that own the Dupain-Cheng bakery?”

“Yes.” Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief, “You heard of us?”

“Yeah. My moms own The Winking Violet cafe a couple streets over from you guys. They rave about your canelés all the time.” Nanette’s smile grew.

“I know The Winking Violet. I must have passed by it a hundred times but I’ve never been.”

“You should totally go there,” the person sitting next to Nanette said, “It’s kinda the local after school hang out spot for the class.”

“Quinn is over exaggerating.” Nanette waved it off.

“No I’m not.” Quinn said. “Your moms reserve extra seats for us practically every day cause they know we’re coming through.”

“I think that is enough for today.” Mr. Babineaux said, “Marinette, take a seat. I think there should be an open one beside Mlle. Tsurugi in the back.”

Oh...next to Kagami.

This is fine. It really is. Kagami is a cool girl. A cool, confident, rich, smart, pretty girl that Adrien has feelings for. This. Is. Fine.

She sat down next to Kagami and kept her eyes up front on the lesson. She could practically feel the tension wafting between herself and Kagami. They weren’t on bad terms but it wasn’t exactly like they were besties either. Why oh why did she have to get seated here of all places?

Thankfully Marinette didn’t need to focus on that and instead kept her attention on class. They were in the middle of a 1500s literature period for right now. Mainly Utopia by Thomas More. Class wrapped up and next it was off to maths. She had to play catch up since it was the middle of term but if she could get the notes off of someone then she should be fine.

“Marinette,” Kagami scooted closer to her, “Would you like a copy of my literature notes?”

“Oh uh, sure,” Marinette gave Kagami her e-mail so she could send over the file. "Thanks, Kagami."

"Don't mention it." She shrugged. "You're my classmate after all."

"Not just for the notes. I was losing control with all those questions earlier and you really helped me out by saying something."

"You're a nice person. You didn't deserve to have everyone gang up on you like that. Especially considering why you left Dupont."

"Lila is a monster." Marinette admitted.

"Obviously." Kagami smirked, "How can your old class not see it?"

"She's a good liar and they are easily impressed. So long as it isn't Chloe saying it."

"Ugh, Chloe," Kagami made retching face, "She irks me something fierce."

"At least you haven't been dealing with her since primary school. Believe it or not but she was actually worse when she was smaller." The girls left the room and started heading to their next class.

"Really? How is that even possible?"

"A princess phase that her parents let her take way too seriously. She was the princess and everyone around her was her servants. Failure to comply resulted in the biggest temper tantrums you had ever seen."

"She hasn't matured much, has she?"

"I wouldn't say that. She's better. Not a saint but I don't hate her like I used to." Marinette wasn't comfortable labeling Chloe the villain anymore. Not when there were Lilas and Hawkmoths flitting about.

The rest of the school day went by without incident and Nanette and Quinn even invited her to hang out after school. Kagami was invited too but she had to return straight home.

Sounds like someone else Marinette knows…

Nanette and Quinn were sweet and fun. Also, Quinn really wasn't exaggerating when they said that The Winking Violet was the class cafe spot. A whole section in the outdoor dining area was reserved for the students.

“Hello, sweetie,” a middle aged black woman with a long mane of curls came up to their table. “Usual for you and Quinn?”

“Hey, Mama. Yeah, also this is Marinette. She’s a new girl in our class.” Nanette introduced them.

“Nice to meet you, do you know what you’d like to drink?” Nanette’s mom asked.

“You too. I’d like a lemonade, please.” Marinette turned back to her new friends. “This place is adorable, Nanette.”

“Thanks. Mom and Mama put a lot of work into it.” Nanette blushed under the compliment. “But that’s a conversation for another day. What do you think of Lycee Carnot?”

“Big.” Marinette said, “It’s a really big school.”

“You get used to it.” Quinn assured her, “I used to get turned around all the time when I started. Nanette found me banging my head against a wall in frustration when I couldn’t find my way to chemistry one time. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

“Well, you guys certainly made me feel welcome. I needed that.” Marinette’s smile dropped slightly.

“It is totally okay if you don’t want to talk about it but I was kinda wondering,” Quinn started, “Why did you transfer to Lycee Carnot from Dupont?”

“It’s a long story.” The echo of Lila’s sadistic laugh echoed in her head, “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“It’s cool. Just curious.” Quinn was quick to drop the subject.

“I guess you already knew Kagami, huh?” Nanette said.

“She does fencing with my friend, Adrien. I’ve seen her a handful of times outside of school too so she’s not a total stranger.”

“I’m honestly surprised that she’s warmed up to you at all. Usually Kagami keeps to herself. Always sits in the back away from everyone and even eats lunch alone. Not that we don’t invite her to eat with us but she just prefers being on her own.”

“I don’t know her that well so I can’t comment but she seems like the type of person who likes to keep things close to the chest.” Marinette shrugged. “Easier to not get hurt that way.”

Quinn and Nanette exchanged a worried glance. There was something going on but they respected Marinette’s choice not to talk about it. After all, they had only just met. They had no right to go digging into her personal business. The two changed the subject and the rest of the afternoon was spent in better spirits.

By the time Marinette had to return home all the nightmares she had endured at Dupont felt just like that. A bad dream.

“This was fun,” Marinette told them, “Next time maybe you can come to my parent’s bakery after school. The house is right above the shop so we could sneak some goodies and play video games or something.”

“That sounds awesome!” Quinn exclaimed. “I am going to gorge myself on cookies.”

“Not if your diabetes has anything to say about it.” Nanette elbowed Quinn playfully. “See you tomorrow, Marinette.”

“See you, Nanette. See you, Quinn.” she waved to them before heading back home.

Marinette’s parents noticed immediately that their daughter was doing much better today. She was smiling and humming and all during dinner she raved about her new school. They were glad she was finally happy again.

As Marinette was settling down for some sleep when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Adrien.

Sorry for texting you so late. Homework got away from me. How was your first day?

Marinette smiled and texted him back.

Better. So much better.

---

(1) (2) (3) (5)

#miraculous ladybug #salt fic #transfer au #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #ocs #writing

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

Want to f**k with your child’s life? You picked the wrong child.

This is not a hate post. This is about the revenge that we got on these bastards, pure and simple. If you want to go off all high and mighty about how awful <Topic> is since it was in this story, fuck off and do it somewhere else. This is about her revenge, not your opinion.

Anyways, let’s begin.

I’m going to retell the original story from the MC post because I left a lot out there. Sorry if you already read it.

About three years ago, I was in a multi-school academic support network, which had a summer camp. At this camp, I met K.

K was a closeted lesbian, and was very scared of us telling her parents due to their extreme political and narcissistic views. I had dealt with this situation a few times, but not on this extreme of a level. Her parents were so far off the end of the scale, I dared not say anything about politics or religion in fear of starting an inquisition. These people made Westboro look like moderates.

To give an example, they had complete control over her phone, emails, mail, and pretty much every other route of communication. So when they decided one of her friends was “too Jewish” (his last name sounded Jewish to them) they deleted him from her life. They called the program and rearranged her schedule so she would never see him. Later, we found out they filed false, anonymous complaints against him so he wouldn’t be invited back. Overnight, they removed him from her life.

And this was not the last kid they did this with.

K was terrified of her parents, but they owned her. There was no way to escape short of suddenly becoming an adult.

I was seriously worried about her, to the point where I bought her an emergency-only prepaid phone, which I told her to hide. This was, unequivocally, the best decision I’ve ever made.

Fast-forward to January. K is struggling with the stress of everything, and says something innocuous in group chat along the lines of “good thing I don’t have to worry about boys”.

We suddenly stop hearing responses from her. Her cell phone goes offline. The house phone kicks all of our numbers, but not pay phones or other lines. The parents pick up, but say that there’s no one with that name at this address, then hang up. Her classmate says she doesn’t show up for class that day. Alarm bells are going off for everyone.

And then I get the call from K. “Please, come pick me up. I was kicked out. It’s cold.”

I’m the closest, and I had a car, and I was driving in blowing, heavy snow in far below freezing weather. I won’t say that rage and panic fueled me, but I will say it got me there in one piece. I have never, ever, driven a car as recklessly, as hard, or as fast as I did that day.

When I got there she was huddled under a tarp, barefoot, in pajamas, at the foot of her house’s stairs. The parents saw my car and rush out to scream at me for “taking their child from the path of god” and “corrupting her with devil worshipping ideas” or some shit like that. I told them that if she listened to me, it was the first time she had ever done that.

And then the critical sentence (direct quote for once): “she’s not our child anymore! You godless heathen ruined her mind!” And then, “She’s no daughter of ours!”

Now, I’m going to pause this for a moment to preface everything that happens from this point on: this is not a pro-atheist or anti-Christian post. These whack jobs are the furthest thing from human I’ve ever seen. Do not use them as a generalization for <Religious Group> or a bandwagon to sell your ideals. I’m not dealing with that shit here.

K, freezing and scared, hides in my car. The parents start to get aggressive and hostile towards me, so I make two things very clear to them.

I am recording everything they say. I have a camera on my car and my phone, and I have a police officer waiting for me at the foot of the driveway (I called the cops before I arrived due to not feeling safe).

I am leaving and never coming back, as per their request. K will be coming with me, since she is not their daughter, per their screaming rant.

They start arguing with (aka screaming over) me about how she can be ‘cured’ by methods that range from dubious to straight up illegal. By this point, I’m done. I get back in my car while they’re screaming at me and head back down the driveway.

The cop and I have a short chat, and he recommends we be brought to the police station ASAP to prevent the parents from saying I kidnapped her. After a six-hour ER visit for her hypothermia and minor frostbite, escorted by police, we arrive. All of my video and audio recordings are entered into official records, and the officer’s dashcam footage, and K’s ER report are filed away.

I didn’t know it at the time, but all of that would prove to be essential in court later.

I sign her into a hotel in my town, and lawyer up. The lawyer I know specifically deals with cases like hers for free. He is very, very good at it.

There was a lot of legalese, and a long process and a lot of angry exchanges that I really didn’t understand or participate in, but two years later, she was emancipated. I got to be a witness, and that recording and the ER report cinched the case, proving neglect. The parents didn’t even try to argue against it, instead using some weird religious law argument.

K’s older half-brother learned what was happening during the first year and supported her financially while she was in school. He hated the parents far more than either of us did (K feared them more and I was just disgusted by them).

It wasn’t much of a fight. The parents represented themselves, and tried to drop the case on “religious grounds”, which isn’t a thing.

After this, the revenge started. And K did not hold back.

During proceedings, it was discovered that the parents had been using their children’s Social Security cards for loans, credit, bank accounts, and other sketchy stuff. They were already going to jail for that, but K took it to the next level.

Now, these were all the things K told me after the fact. I wasn’t involved in this part, and I didn’t write down all the details that well, but the following is approximately what happened from what I have been told or remember.

So, WARNING; fuzzy details.

One of the things that had been purchased in her name was the father’s truck. K reported it as missing, since she was technically an owner of the truck. They pulled the father over and confiscated the truck as stolen, because his name was not in the title, the wife’s was. When he tried to prove it was his by filling out the bill of sale on the back, he found that the title for the vehicle had been invalidated when K had ordered a new one and donated the vehicle to the fire department for Jaws-of-Life training. That same day.

The mother’s credit cards were the same, but K just cancelled all of them and declared ID theft. This froze some of the mother’s bank accounts, which were under K’s SSN.

The family was already in chaos but K cranked it to 11. Due to the SSN, K was listed as the main contact for the family’s cell phone and internet plans. She cancelled both. She killed the email accounts in her name that she could access and rerouted her mail to her new PO Box, where she may have “accidentally” forgotten to say they should only reroute her mail.

She also called in repossessions on everything that had been bought with her SSN on credit. The loans included renovations on the home, so the parents were forced to sell.

By the time K was done, the parents were happy to go to jail for fraud, identity theft, and their other, numerous crimes rather than live on the street.

All I do know is that they became social pariahs in town before that. Stores banned them for their increasingly violent attempts at converting people. People they knew for years turned on them. The father was fired for failing a performance review, and the mother lost her job selling <Stuff?> due to her increased radicalization.

In the end, K’s siblings went to live with her half-brother since he was the closest living relative. The parents lost all rights to visitation, as the state nullified their parental rights and gave guardianship to the half-brother, mostly due to the criminal charges.

But the real revenge might just be that as the sentencing was carried out, K flipped the parents off in front of the judge and the judge just laughed at the parent’s attempts to claim it was hate speech.

TL;DR: Narcissistic and awful parents attempt to ruin child’s life for being lesbian. Child sends them to jail.

(source) (story by CynicalAltruist)

#prorevenge #by CynicalAltruist #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10

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typicalfictosexualfangirl · 5 years

Text

Exchanged Whispers (BNHA Fan Fiction) - Chapter 1: Vernal

A/N: i’ve been seeing a couple of fanfictions where the reader is portrayed as a villain’s daughter aiming to become a hero or something of that sort, so i thought i’d change it up a little..

this is me trying my hand at writing fanfictions for the first time, so pardon me if chapters are short, the scenes aren’t entirely accurate as the actual anime/manga, and the characters if they aren’t exactly portrayed accurately. feel free to send in any constructive criticisms (not hate mail, pls know how to differentiate) and yeah, i’ll try to entertain and edit them as best as i can :)

just a heads up, it’s in the first person pov, which made it weird for me to read since I originally wrote the reader as ‘you’. and i’m not gonna go in depth on the characters in 1-C, since they don’t exactly play a main part in the story and also because i don’t wanna portray them wrongly, in case they do get portrayed in the manga in future, but i get to describe one or two of their appearances thanks to the sports festival arc 😚

p.s. [Y/F/N] means your full name

Chapter 1: Vernal

vernal (adj.) of, relating to, or occurring in the spring; fresh or new like the spring extracted from Dictionary by Merriam-Webster Inc.

I stood in front of the stairs and ruffled my hair in exasperation. I had rounded the building too many times to count and I’m back to square one where I started my futile search of my classroom.

I’m not one without a sense of direction, which just shows how huge the building was with their floors being at least 2 metres tall, identical walls painted white with a blue border framing the upper part, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows. It was like a maze, every turn I take looks exactly the same as the corridor I just passed, except for the different labels on the doors which are the only identification of my present location, and in my current case, the counters to how many times I have ran down a certain corridor.

I took a deep breath in and exhaled to calm my impatience and prepared for Search Attempt #7. Just as I rounded the corner for the *insert large number here* time that day, I bumped into something, or someone to be more specific, and fell back onto my hands, both in surprise and exhaustion. “Are you alright?” A hand appeared in my field of vision, offering to help me up on my feet.

My eyes travelled up to the face behind the hand. The boy standing in front of me had spiky red hair and sharp teeth, and if I looked closely, I could see a slight scar above his right eye.

I dusted my skirt and nodded, “Yup, thanks for the hand.”

“No problem, I was the one who caused your fall in the first place.”

I shook my head and hummed in disagreement, “I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, I was at fault too.”

“The name’s Kirishima Eijiro, it’s nice to meet you,” he offered me a hand again, this time for me to shake, which I gently took and did so.

I introduced myself as well, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Kirishima.”

“So, [Y/N],” the way he said my name sent a chill down my spine, “what are you doing wandering these halls alone when class is about to start-“ he paused to check the time on his phone- “in a minute?”

I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. “To be honest, I’m kind of lost,” I admitted sheepishly.

He chuckled at my response, “I’m not surprised. What class are you from?”

“1-C.”

General studies, huh? “I’ll take you there.”

It was only at that moment when I realised how late I was. “Holy crap, I am so dead, and I am going to drag you down with me!” I started to panic.

“No, it’s okay, my classroom’s near yours anyway,” he tried to calm me down and gave me a reassuring grin.

“Speaking of, you haven’t told me what class you’re from.”

“Me? I’m from 1-A,” he replied, the smile still plastered on his face. “Well, we’d better get going, otherwise we’ll be later than we already are.”

I thanked him for the trouble and proceeded to walk side-by-side with my benefactor as he led me down the winding halls to my classroom.

When I walked into my classroom, my classmates were already in their seats and the teacher was briefing the class on what our first activity in UA will be. Everyone turned to look at me in question, except a boy who was sat in the corner near the back door, his chin on his palm, and staring out the window. All I can make up of him was his crazy tuft of purple hair. When the teacher hurried me to take a seat, I briefly nodded and took a quick glance around the class before realising that the only seat left available was one beside him. I briskly walked to my seat and settled down, catching up with what I might have missed as the teacher repeated what he had said (for my sake).

When lunch break finally came around, I was immediately surrounded by my classmates. “Oh my god, your parents are MIND DUO right?” The very mention of my parents made me shudder, but I smiled at my classmates and nodded.

“Ooh, what are they like? How is it like to be the daughter of MIND DUO?” their incessant questioning caused my brain to stop functioning entirely. I was clearly struggling to answer all their questions but nobody seemed to notice.

Except for a certain someone I never would have thought of.

“Can’t you see she’s uncomfortable? Why don’t you all leave her alone?” a gruff voice suddenly came from my right.

Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice, including me, even though I already knew who it was. Finally able to get a good look at his face, I could see his messy hair framing the upper half of his face and bags under his hooded eyes of a matching colour. As soon as he said that, he stood up and sighed, leaving the classroom to remove himself from the situation.

“We’re sorry if we were bothering you,” my classmates apologised before introducing themselves one at a time.

“Having parents with such awesome quirks, what might your quirk be?” a male classmate with brown hair and dark skin asked.

“Amiability,” I responded rather quickly, as if it was my second nature. “It’s not as flashy as my parents’ quirks but basically, I get along with people really well, both heroes and villains alike.”

My classmates looked at me with tilted heads and confused faces, causing me to burst out laughing. “It means that I can dupe them into thinking I’m one of them, allowing me to lower their guards and get more information out of them,” I continued with a smile.

Scattered ‘oh’s reverberated through the air as my classmates slowly understood what I said.

I excused myself and left the classroom, in search of my tablemate (sort of) to thank him for what he did earlier, but my original plan was interrupted when I heard someone call out to me as I passed by 1-A classroom. I backed up and my head popped into the classroom, peeping inside to see a familiar red head waving at me and signalling for me to go in. He was standing at the table of a boy with ash blonde hair that was styled not so differently from his. The scowl on his face made me hesitate for a moment but I managed to gather the courage to step inside. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I walked towards Kirishima, but the overwhelming feeling of me being in a hero class overtook the out-of-place sensation.

“[Y/N]!” Kirishima welcomed me enthusiastically as soon as I reached his side and started rambling on about something to me, although I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying as I felt the seated boy burn holes through my head with his glaring red eyes.

Kirishima looked over at the frowning boy and realisation dawned upon him. “Ah, I forgot to introduce the two of you. [Y/N], this is Bakugo Katsuki. Bakugo, this is [Y/F/N].”

I awkwardly lifted a hand and mumbled a ‘hi’, a subtle side-grin forming on my face. The only response I received in return was a scoff, which I was taken aback by. Before I could ask Kirishima to hold me back to stop me from beating the crap out of this r00D boi, he took my arm and dragged me around the classroom, eyes glistening eagerly, “Let me introduce you to the rest of my classmates!”

“Sure…” I barely managed to respond as I tried to comprehend the current situation I was in.

“Ooh, who’s that beauty you’ve got with you, Kirishima?” a girl with horns, pink skin, and hair a shade darker came up to the both of us.

“Oh, Ashido, this is [Y/N]. She’s from class 1-C,” Kirishima halted in his tracks, letting go of my arm and pointed back at me, who was a step behind him, with his thumb. I pouted slightly at the loss of contact.

“You’re from the general studies? How’s the curriculum like there? What do you learn? Is it any different from the hero course? Why did you apply for general studies? What’s your quirk? Do you have a boyfriend?” she was like an assault rifle, attacking me relentlessly with her never-ending questions, but her last question definitely caught me off guard.

“Um…” I was trying to find the right words to answer when Kirishima stood between me and the overly-excited Ashido.

“Hey, hey, cool it. You’re gonna scare her away.”

She gave a coy grin, “Oops, sorry.”

As Kirishima picked up my arm again and pulled me past her, my free hand covered one side of my lips and I managed to whisper into her ear, “Actually, I applied to UA in hopes of finding a boyfriend.”

I winked at her as she gaped at my fading silhouette. “Call me Mina!” she yelled before I disappeared from her sight. Without looking back, I waved her off casually in acknowledgement.

Throughout the whole introductory journey, Kirishima was a really big help in overcoming my awkwardness and insecurity, but it was also partially thanks to my quirk that everyone was really easy to get along and communicate with. Except for that one gross and creepy perv that I really don’t want to have anything to do with (you already know who it is).

I took a quick look around the classroom and saw Jiro holding an opened bottle of ice water, trying to get past Mineta. I imagined the water emptying onto his small stature and blinked, a smirk forming on my lips as it became a reality.

“Well, lunch break’s almost over. Want to go and grab a quick bite before class starts?” Kirishima turned to me once he was done, taking a deep breath and exhaling from all the exhaustion.

I nodded at his suggestion, almost too quickly to be natural.

He smiled and led me out of the class, unaware that he was still holding on to my arm.

A/N: THAT’S IT for this chapter, it turned out longer than i expected, started with 300+ words and ended up being 1,300+ words, or more than that

i do hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it (minus the parts where i got frustrated with writer’s block, and putting what i imagine into words) get ready for the escalation in the story though, you’ll never see it coming ;)

Exchanged Whispers Chapter List

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4

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cosmosogler · 6 years

Text

hi guys. i guess i’ve been feeling very socially anxious because today it was... real bad!

i don’t think i had a single interaction with another human being where i didn’t feel on edge and unfocused. and i felt super irritable after talking to anyone as soon as i was alone. even people i really like! and even conversations where nothing actually went wrong!!

it probably is that there are too many new people that i am trying to meet right now. i hate that my brain does this every time i try to open up with people. i’d say it’s one of the main deterrents to making friends for me. the waves and waves of irritability and anger at myself like some kind of bad emotion flu.

every time.

between my two classes i had planned on doing homework but i did some logic puzzles instead. and i picked up my grading for the week... but i didn’t do any or even look at it. after class i biked over to the building where creative writing club is meeting for the semester. i was doing ok... aside from being unable to focus and feeling irate i guess. one of the guys, apparently a regular (he hadn’t been here over the summer), was kind of high key sexist and i was not feeling very patient with him by the end of the three-hour period.

there was one single other person who had a complete draft of her own story. there were like ten of us there... i hope she comes back next week. i want to see if she wants feedback. the treasurer, cristian, seems pretty cool too.

we did a round-robin style storytelling session today, where we took five minutes writing a bit of a story and then passed it on to the next person. everyone had started an individual story so everyone had something to do at all times. when i got mine back i got actually mad for real. the club president had taken my premise and turned it into an “it was all a dream” sort of story.

i think it was a combination of the dude bro joe correcting me about adventure time facts when he admitted he wasn’t actually sure if his claims were true and my story getting backpedaled by someone else (AND BEING THE ONLY ONE THIS HAPPENED TO), but i was actually fairly grouchy by the end of the three hours. i was also really hungry and that always makes me antsy.

i get enough of people correcting me about things i know far more about than them with harrison! i don’t need another guy doing it at the one place i go that doesn’t involve the physics department.

i discovered the vice president raul had actually really liked my comic a lot more than i thought he did. we were introducing our projects and i kept getting talked over every time i tried to talk about myself until eventually he let me talk. i said “my story boils down to ‘sad man searches for missing wife’” and left it at that and then he kind of made a face and told me to talk about it more.

so that was nice i think. i still stammered when i tried to talk to him about it after club. he offered to send out the link to everyone who joined the mailing list and i said “that would be ok.”

what an awkward phrase to use!!! why didn’t i think of something better to say????

i feel bad pestering all my friends and classmates and people i know. we all got depression. i feel so impatient about it. feeling like... i want my friends to feel better but i feel that my worry for them is self centered, i guess. “i’m lonely! stop being depressed! be fun again!!” the whiny anxiety baby in my head says. i hate myself for letting myself feel that way.

so i load up videos and podcasts and books and whatever to fill my time and even I’M so depressed i can barely focus on any of them. but i want to do all of them! what’s wrong with me?

i don’t even know what i’m so worked up about. my head hurts and it feels like i want to cry but i don’t actually really want to. i’m sad about my dog. i hate sitting through this period of inevitable self hatred while i try to get to know new classmates, new club members, new people online. i’m bummed that my art hasn’t been getting any attention on the comic page. i’m frustrated about the next page i’m trying to draw. i’m worried about one of my homework assignments. i don’t know what to do for my birthday and i’m worried about asking anyone to celebrate it with me. keegan just had his own party, no one’s gonna want to go out and spend money. even i don’t wanna go out and spend money!

i’m worried about my financial situation. my paychecks started again, and that helps, but i have to sort out a problem with my rent and i have to figure out what’s going on with my “fees due” situation on the school web site.

i want people to pay attention to me, but also i don’t want anyone to look at me ever or expect me to talk about myself.

i don’t know how to feel better.

i thought of a different way to articulate my frustration i guess. my thought is “i want someone ELSE to be the competent well adjusted one for a little while.” but i know i’m never gonna get that. that’s not how adulthood goes, and no one cares enough to do that for me anyway. i don’t think i’d let them even if they did.

haven’t been to therapy in like a month. that might have something to do with it. group starts up again in a week and a half.

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mawichandoodles · 6 years

Text

Beloved Rival (RusAme/AmeRus fanfiction)

My super late gift for @purplepatchwork in the RusAme Secret Santa2017 exchange.

This is my first fanfic EVER. And it’s longer than expected, almost 5k words. I’m a bit nervous, but know I wrote this with all the love. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Patch!

I mixed prompts number 2 and 3 :

“2. Al and Ivan as two rivalling teachers whom all the students secretly ship, whether they find out about this and/or their reaction to it is optional, just go wild.“

“3. Ivan confessing feelings to Alfred while being drunk, can be human or canonverse, Alfred’s reaction is entirely up to you.”

Note: I don't know much about the school system in other countries, so I'm going with what I was used to see during my high school years. I hope it doesn't end up clashing too much with other people's idea of high school.

Note2: English is not my native language, so regardless of research and editing, there may be some errors I’m unable to detect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's Friday afternoon, near the end of the Algebra class, but more importantly, it's the end of the semester. The group is only a few ticks of the clock away from winter break. The only sounds in the classroom come from numb-handed students scribbling on their notebooks, and the mellow humming of the one sitting at the old desk in the front corner.

They are writing a final essay about the content reviewed throughout the semester, what they learned, why it's important, why they liked it, and things like that. Alternatively, they could write a whole manifesto of hate to the teacher, to algebra, or the world in general, if they sowanted. The only things the teacher asked for was eight pages of text, and finished within the hundred minutes of class they had on Fridays, as designated by the group's schedule.

Raivis, sitting in the middle of the front row, looks up at the clock over the whiteboard, a drop of sweat runs down his forehead. He relaxes the grip on his pencil, cue the feel of pins and needles as he stretches his fingers.

"Five minutes," he mutters.

The teacher, seating on his desk in silence, stops humming, along with his calculation of the student's final grades.

"Five minutes!?" A voice echoes from across the room.

A collective gasp and muffled muttering fill the teacher's ears.

Raivis' sight is blocked by a towering figure standing in front of his desk. The figure leans closer, revealing the smiling face of the teacher, Ivan Braginsky.

"Are you done, Mr. Raivis?"

Chills run down the spine of the small student.

"I ju-just... two more left."

Mr. Braginsky kept smiling. He gently places a hand on Raivis' head, and looks him in the eyes.

"The clock doesn't care you're staring at it. Mind your own work, before time runs out, yes?"

Raivis bites his lower lip from the inside, and remains silent. He resumes writing his paper without looking up at the teacher again. Pleased, Mr. Braginsky pats his head and goes on to walk around the classroom, nonchalantly. He happily strokes his red and pink scarf as he walks, the part wrapped around his neck. Not one of Raivis' classmates dare turn their heads towards the teacher.

"Remember this is an optional task you can do, if you want (or need) extra points. Because I don't want failing students. This is my Christmas gift for you. That's why I will take no less than 10 pages of text, as a sign of your appreciation, yes?".

The glasses of the guy sitting left to Raivis fall off his face and on his notebook.

"You said nine!" Says, Toris, who sat in the right corner of the middle row.

"Oh, is that how you say 'eleven' in your native language?" Mr. Braginsky chuckles.

Everyone groans at Toris.

Mr. Braginsky takes the empty seat in the middle of the room, right among his students. He begins talking outloud, tapping his fingers on the desk. No one was sure if he was doing it to distract them away from the last precious minutes they had left or not. He could be testing their ability to focus, to work under pressure, he could just want to ruin their lives (as every teenager thinks about any teacher, ever). They were all too familiar with Mr. Braginsky's subtle "tests" of character. Although they share the sentiment expessed by Mr. Braginsky, they do their best to tune out his voice.

"Uff, it's getting suffocated here." He pulls on his scarf with two fingers. "Who though repurposing a storage room as a classroom was a good idea? Greedy people, trying to save money instead of making more buildings. No wonder you guys call it the 'the Rat Trap', huh?"

A rat trap indeed. Located, next to the chemistry lab, the two rooms were built together in a one-story building, separate but next to the main building for classrooms which blocked whatever sunlight could have gotten through. Thus the room tends to be low, yet suffocating at times. There was barely enough space for fifteen people, and had four 30cm x 30 cm stuck-closed windows on upper walls.

"And the other teachers said 'You should be fine, you have the smallest group'. I'm sure in the next semester, the room distribution will be a total bloodbath. Mr. Jones will fight for the same room I choose, I bet. Regardless I'll make sure we get a better place for us this spring... Yeah, I will be your teacher next year too, hehe." He continues rambling.

The echoes of the ringing bell penetrate the walls of the Rat Trap. As soon as they hear it, most people put their pencils down and start packing their belongings. Some people sight in relief, others from exhaustion. Others shake their hands in the air to relieve the numbness and someone in the back corner starts crying. Meanwhile, Mr. Braginsky gets up and returns to his desk, without sitting down.

"Time's up, turn in your papers. Leave them on my desk here. I'll have them graded by Monday, and I'll send the final grades to you all via e-mail in the evening of the same day."

No matter what face the kids are making at him, with a fatherly smile Mr. Braginsky wishes merry Christmas to each one of them as they leave. One by one, the youths place their essays on the desk, not before stapling the pages together with the teacher's stapler, as they usually did. He put it there for the students after all.

"Brother," mutters Natalya, as she stands in front of Mr. Braginsky, adjusting her white ribbon. "Thank you for your hard work."

She hands a thick bundle of pages to Mr. Braginsky. With a gesture, she insists on him receiving it with his hands, instead of leaving in on the desk. He raises an eyebrow.

"Natalya? You don't need extra points at all. You could have gone home already."

"I wrote you a letter. I don't want you to read anyone else's paper first, it must be that one, okay?"

"Merry Christmas?" Says Mr. Braginsky, patting her sister on the shoulder as she turns to leave.

And so as the teacher begins to pack his belongings too, he notices a girl with pink flowers adorning her head, sitting at the bottom left corner. It is Mei, the youngest sister of Mr. Wang, who also teaches algebra. Hoever she chose not to have a relative as her teacher.

Mr. Braginsky gives her a puzzled look and approaches her. Mei seems to be focused on her notebook, moving her pencil with meticulous dedication. A whole two minutes have passed. By the time Mei raises her head, Mr. Braginsky is sitting next to her, leaning on the desk as he stares at her work with clenched teeth, hidden by a lips-shut smile.

"Don't your eyes get tired of drawing in a place with such bad lighting?"

Mei jumps on her seat and slams her hands on the notebook.

"Mr. B.!" Mei she raises the corners of her mouth in a dubiously successful attempt to sound calm. "You're still here?"

"I am the one locking the classroom door today."

"I didn't mean to make you wait, Mr. B., I'll go home right away."

"Did you take on the final task?" He says, fingers fidgetting, focusing on Mei's small black spot near her chin, probably a pencil graphite stain.

"My grade is fine, as you told me, so I didn't write anything".

"Is it too cold outside or something? Why didn't you leave early, like your friend Lien? Maybe you like my class that much?"

Mei looks down, without moving her hands off the notebook. Several seconds of silence ensue.

"Alright, let me see it."

Mei's eyes widen. Her hands press even more on the notebook.

"But it's nothing," she stutters,

"Yes, so let me see it."

"But..."

Mei sighs, her face turns red and quietly slides her graphite-stained palms away from her work, revealing the semi-realistic unfinished image of two men, suspiciously similar to Mr. Braginsky and Mr. Jones, engaging in what looked like "adult activities". Mr. Braginsky slowly extends his arm to grab the notebook, looking Mei in the eye as if to ask for permission to take it. Mei remains silent. Mr. Braginsky then proceeds to inspect the drawing, now on his hands.

"I have to questions, Miss Wang."

An imaginary knot forms in her stomach. She closes her eyes and folds her arms around her abdomen, anticipating the scariest scolding of her life as if she was preparing to take a fist to the gut. And so she nods in silence.

"Number one: Is that Mr. Jones, tying me up with the candy cane-pattern scarf I got from my grandma?" He inquires, pointing at the goofy scarf he's wearing.

Mei nods again.

"Number two: Did you draw my nose smaller on purpose?"

Mei is unable to hold back her nervousness any longer.

"Mr. B. please the don't tell my brother about this, please don't show it to him! I'm really sorry, I'll accept my punishment but please don't-"

"Shhh Shhh... Can I keep it?" He interrupted.

"Eh?" Mei stopped cold. "Do you... actually like it?" She stuttered.

"Well, no, but I can't let you keep it, much less actually finish it."

"I'm really sorry."

Mr. Braginsky chuckled behind his hand.

"Making a fuzz about this would be a waste of time, right? Just go home and don't draw these things at school. That's my Christmas gift for you, what do you say?"

Mei placed her hand on her chest.

"So, my Christmas gift for you would be letting you keep it?"

Mr. Braginsky chokes on his own breath.

"The gift is not drawing these things at school anymore. Now go, shoo shoo." Mr. Braginsky gestures, still smiling.

"Thank you, thank you so much! Merry Christmas, Mr. B.!" Mei exclaimed. She masterfully ripped the drawing from the notebook without damaging it, handed it back to Mr. Braginsky and hurried to pack everything. She then runs away from the Rat Trap more happy than scared.

Mr. Braginsky is still in the desk next to where Mei was, staring at the confiscated drawing, with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. The rythmic tapping of his fingers echo across the room. Soon the image blurs as his minds simply wanders off.

"But why with Mr. Jones?" He thinks out loud.

It wasn't that Mr. Jones was a man, just like himself. It was that wether in public or in private, they were seldom "nice" to one another, if ever at all. How did so many kids get the idea that they could "love" each other? He didn't understand. Did Mr. Jones say something he was not aware of? Did they do it as a form of mockery? Could it be they noticed something?

"Because I'm the best teacher ever?"

Startled and holding his breath, Mr. Braginsky folds the sheet of paper with the drawing and places it on his lap to cover it under the desk. He looks up to where the voice came, only to see Mr. Alfred F. Jones, the physics teacher. standing just past the entrance of the room, staring back at him. Mr. Braginsky exhales and shakes his arm in a dismissive "go away" kind of motion.

"Ivan, how's it going? Found anything interesting? Said Mr. Jones, with an intentional, emphasized mispronounctiation of the "I" in "Ivan" as "eye".

"Alf," Ivan greeted him, referencing the extraterrestial protagonist of the eponymous 80's sitcom. "What do you want?"

Alfred goes to Ivan's desk and casually grabs the other's suitcase.

"Do you have, like, a stapler?"

Ivan puts Mei's drawing in the pocket of his coat and returns to his desk. He yanks the suitcase away from Alfred's hands.

"Not for you. Besides, I think I ran out of staples after my kids used it just now." Ivan replied with a dry tone. "And I don't want you to lose it or break it with your clumsy gorilla hands anyway."

Alfred smirks.

"So you're admitting I'm stronger, after all?"

"Clumsy." Ivan replies, walking to the door. Alfred follows him.

"Come on, I forgot mine at home. I need to staple my student's papers!" He begs. "And some other documents too," he mutters.

Ivan stops walking and turns to Alfred.

"Show me the papers and I'll staple them myself."

"Ivan, do you really think I'm gonna break it?"

No response.

"Man, the mug incident was an accident, I'm not asshole enough to break other people's stuff on purpose."

Ivan stepps out of the Rat Trap and closes the door behind him, with Alfred still inside.

"Oh you did break something of mine and it was not just a mug," Ivan replies, making noises with the keychain as to make Alfred think he's going to really lock the door and leave.

Alfred takes a deep breath and exhales. He rubs his temples then folds his arms.

"Then will you come with me to the teacher's lounge? I left them there. I have to present some of those papers real soon. I don't have time to drive home or look for one in a store, you know. I'll treat you to lunch if you want."

Ivan opened the door slowly, only enough to poke his head inside, like a shy little kid.

"I'll help, but I'll choose the meal. I don't want cheap trash-burgers get it?."

"F-- yes!" Alfred cheers and slams the door open. He runs outside, pulling a startled Ivan from the arm.

"Hey I have to lock the door!" Ivan complains. And so Alfred freezes on the spot, almost stumbling on his feet.

"Ah yeah, I forgot. Lock the door, then. It's just that I'm really short on time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lingering scent of cheap coffee floats in the air within the teachers lounge. The old coffee machine emmits a buzzing sound that everyone doubts is normal but no ones cares enough to actually check. Ivan and Alfred are sitting in the worn out but strangely comfortable couch next to the teachers' lockers.

Ivan had taken off his scarf, it was neatly folded and put on the couch, next to his lap. Under the beige coat he wears a wine-red turtleneck sweater, so his neck remains covered, as usual. Alfred had rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie for the sake of comfort.

They two of them were alone in the room as most other teachers usually tried to go home early at this time of the year. There was a small coffee table in front of the couch, where they placed a tall tower of paper sheets Alfred had been passing mini bunches of paper to Ivan, who carefully stapled them together and placed them in the opposite corner of the table. Within minutes they had picked a good rythm of work.

"So, how did your kids do this semester?" Alfred grabs the next bunch of paper sheets and hands it to Ivan after asking.

"Overall a few low grades but no failed students."

"Well my students didn't get anything lower than 80."

"In last week's meeting you complained that 'kids nowadays don't care about science,' I recall? You called them burger-flipping babies then."

"I was mad at the time," Alfred laughs. "And I meant just the neglectful ones... But okay, my kids got nothing lower than 70. There, I said it."

Alfred grabs a thick bunch of documents and sorts them out appropiately. As he inspects them he holds the documents in such a way that the contents can't be seen by Ivan. He gives the next batch to his helper and leaves the rest aside. A single sheet falls off from them and glides unceremoniously until it lands on Ivans feet. Alfred freezes. Ivan picks it up without thinking much of it until he flips the sheet and sees the other side of the page.

A drawing made with blue ink, maybe from a regular pen. The sheet has some tomato sauce stains, it seems. It features cutesy characters holding hands. A blushing, big-nosed character kisses a spectacled character on the cheek. The artstyle looks like what the quiet and mysterious school librarian would call "moe", as Ivan learned during their rare small talk. As "stylized" as the appearance of the characters is, he grimaces when he gets to figure out the character's identities and feels the earlier situation with Mei kind of repeat itself. All within the same hour.

Ivan glances at Alfred with a serious face, without saying anything, holding the cutesy drawing for Alfred to see. Alfred loosens his grip on the next batch of documents so much they fall to the floor. He immediately picks them up and rushes to take the drawing away from the other's hands.

"I confiscated that thing from a student who was not paying attention," he says after clearing his throat.

Ivan looks down on the mess of sheets on Alfred feet and notices at least three other similar drawings lying among the "normal" documents. After shaking his head from side to side, Ivan stands up and stretches his body.

"I'll get myself some coffee," he says, but when he tries to step away, his foot stumbles on the table's leg and the tower of unstapled sheets is collapses and is now everywhere. Alfred snarls and just throws the paper on his hands onto the table, blending in with the rest of the mess.

"Goddamn it, what a great help you turned out to be! Talk about clumsy!"

"It's your fault for being so disorganized!... And having weird things among important documents!"

"Weird things, you say? Well it's NOT my fault you're so delicate you get offended so easily. I bet you doodled things like this yourself when we were in high school."

"I bet you now wish I did!" Ivan raises his voice. He takes his suitcase and is about to rush out of the lounge, when Alfred talks back once more.

"Ivan."

And so he stops, but doesn't turn back to face him.

"Your stapler," Alfred says, holding the tool with a stretched arm, trying to get it to reach Ivan. Even though Ivan is not seeing, so he wouldn't know.

"It's yours now. Merry Fucking Christmas." Ivan grunts and storms out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The asshole forgot his dumb scarf," Alfred muttered to himself. "No way in hell I'm gonna go give it back to him."

More than an hour has passed since Ivan left the teacher's lounge. Alfred is sitting alone in the couch. Four neatly organized piles of documents were placed on the small table in front of him. The stapler sits on his lap as though and he pets it as though it was a living cat. Not too ago he had finished sorting out the last batch of documents, All of them now stapled together. He leans back and beholds the result of his efforts.

The first pile of paper corresponds to his final reports on the class and its members. The second and largest one corresponds to the planned content to review in the next semester. The third one is made of student's graded homework that he couldn't return to them on time. The last one is a collection of assorted documents and other non-school-related curiousities that had found their way into Alfred's current paperwork.

Alfred reached to the fourth pile. He grabbed it hole and placed it on his lap, not before putting his new stapler aside. The pile contained old tests, some postcards, wrinkly notes about past lessons, some letters from his students from years ago, some pictures, and, who would have though, more drawings like the one that sparked the short-lived argument an hour ago.

The cutesy drawing is the sixth drawing featuring him and his coworker that he confiscated during that semester alone. The first time he caught a student drawing or writing such material he was shocked, almost traumatized, he could have said at the time. However, somewhere along the way he began to find it amusing. Now he would only confiscate material and punish the student if it was being used as a distraction during class. Otherwise he'd even joke about it and keep the students guessing. It's not like other coworkers didn't make similar jokes about them from time to time.

Of course Alfred would have never let Ivan know about that guilty pleasure of his. Not after the things he had said in the past, and has come to regret now. But more on that comes later. Now as he beholds his secret collection he wonders, why is he even keeping those dumb doodles around? In his mind, most of them look like specimens of failed human experimentation, begging for the sweet release of death. And yet...

Alfred moves the fourth pile back to the table and rests his hand on the side. His hand lands on the still folded, abandoned candy cane scarf. He slaps it away and it comes undone on the floor. Alfred sighs lets his body collapse on his side onto the couch, like a ragdoll.

His stretched arm hangs from the couch. Before he knows it, he's grabbing the scarf again. He brings it back to himself and strokes the fabric. He starts to knead it back and forth with his fingers, similar to how cats do when they find a comfortable spot for a nap. The scarf is soft and way more fluffy than its appearance would indicate.

And so Alfred digs into his pocket and takes out his cell phone to start texting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A brief vibration comes from Ivan's pocket on his coat. He's at a grocery store, standing in front of a stack full of small potato sacks. He's looking for ingredients for tonight's dinner. The store is very crowded. He hopes the vibration of the phone is not something important enough for him to need to call back.

Ivan takes the phone out, it's just a notification from the app store, a pending update for one of those annoying preinstalled applications that he never uses.

"I thought I turned those off." Once he places his phone back on his pocked, he puts a potato sack in the shopping cart, next to the cabbage, the carrots, and the onions. He turns his head around, making sure there's nothing else around that he might want to take. He clutches his turtle neck, forgetting once again that he left his scarf back at the school. He had an habit of stroking it to keep his hands busy when he was nervous, anxious, or bored. Concluding the assessment of his surroundings, he moves on to the meat and fish section. It didn't take too long for him to find what he needed, but he now he has to wait in a very long queue just so he can pay for the groceries and go home.

So Ivan stands there, advancing mini steps each several minutes. All the while the speakers around the store are emit obnoxious Christmas carol remixes as dictated by modern tradition. In a way he thinks it's kind of nice. To be reminded that there are other things in life to be mad about, other than whatever spurs out of a dumb, old high school c...

"Hey, sir. Your turn for the cashier," Ivan hears someone behind him on the queue say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfred locked his car and made his way through the parking lot of the mall. Both hands are hidden on the pocket of his jacket to protect them from the cold. He is whistling the Ruldolph the red-nosed reindeer song. He was interrupted when someone called him from several meters behind him.

He turned back. It was almost 5pm and the sun had begun to set a while ago. The sunset glare hurts Alfreds eyes and obscures the figure of the person standing in front of it, calling Alfred. He can't quite make out the words the other person is shouting. As he approaches the figure gets clear enough for him to figure out it's just Ivan. He's next to his car, carrying a grocery bag on each hand. Now that Ivan too, has a clearer sight of Alfred, his neutral expression changes to that of disgust.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Ivan exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Alfred was confused.

"Don't 'excuse me'. Why the fuck are you wearing my scarf?"

"Oh, that. Welp." Alfred shrugged. "It's warm."

The two of them stood in there for the longest ten seconds ever.

"Are you gonna give it back to me or...?"

Alfred clicked his tongue.

"Of course I will." He ripped the scarf off of himself and threw it at Ivan. "Take your gay-ass scarf."

Ivan catches the garment, making sure none of it is dragged on the ground. One of the bags almost falls off, but he holds them well. He doesn't put the scarf back on. Just keeps it under his arm.

"That says more about you than about me." He replies.

Alfred lowers his head, awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

"Whatever. So uh, lunch is like, cancelled, I guess? Is dinner ok?"

"I'll cook dinner at home." Ivan says. he taps his foot as he waits for Alfred to leave. Now that he got back his personal property he can carry on with his evening.

"What are you gonna make?" Alfred is still there.

"Shchi."

Alfred squints, lips curled a little bit.

"It's cabbage soup, you uncultured swine."

"Eeew. You know, my pal's restaurant serves the best lasagna ever. He's from Italy, you know."

"Thanks, I know. I'll take my sisters there sometime soon."

Ivan opens his car. He shoves the grocery bags in the front passenger seat and gets inside.

"Okay then why the hell did you shout at me from across the damn parking lot if you are gonna be like this?" Alfred yells from the side of the car, knocking on the front glass.

Ivan lowers his window.

"I just wanted my scarf. Saw a red-pink dot in the distance. I more-less knew it was you. Wondered if you carried it with you, but didn't think you'd be actually wearing it. I may be messed up, but you're a total creep. Just go away."

Ivan turns the keys. The engine sounds like it's going to start but then dies off. Both men's eyes widen and turn their heads to the front of the car. Ivan tries to start the engine again to no avail. Alfred folds his arms, expectant, until Ivan gives up on the tenth failed attempt. Defeated, Ivan leans on the steering wheel, his head presses the honk button. Some bystanders a few cars away begin to direct their attention towards them, but Ivan doesn't care. Alfred leans on the car, laughing histerically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "This is the kind of day that makes me regret being born." Ivan says as he chops fresh cabbage. The knife gets closer the fingers of his other hand and pokes the side of the thumb. Unsurprised, he leaves the knife and opens the nearest drawer to look for a band-aid.

"Look at it in a different way," says Alfred, who's turned back from him. "You got your scarf back, we managed to take your car for repair so you can have it back within the weekend. You don't need to drive to work for now anyway."

Alfred sniffs and grunts, trying to hold back the tears. "I even gave you a ride back to here, which is an hour away from where we were." He puts aside the onions he's chopping and rushes to get a napkin.

"I even volunteered to chop the onions you ungrateful piece of shit." He wipes his nose so the swearing gets muffled at the end.

"No one asked you to stay for dinner either." Ivan puts on a band-aid and resumes his tasks. "Besides, kids who complain about chores don't get dessert, you know," he jokes. He acknowledges Alfred has a point, though. His mood begins to lighten up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a while they managed to cook a decent cabbage soup. Alfred didn’t waste the opportunity to mock Ivan for eating "grandpa food", despite getting a second helping himself. Alfred was supposed to leave not long after dinner, but a couple of cookies and cups of sbiten later, the two of them are at Ivan's rooftop, simply chatting, gazing the sky at midnight. The roof was slightly angled, with blue flat roof tiles. And a thin layer of snow covered the surface, but none of that bothered them. It was also a one-story house, so they were not quite worried about falling off.

Alfred lies on his back. His arms are folded behind his head as a pillow. Sitting next to him is Ivan, hugging his knees with one arm, and hugging a two thirds-empty bottle of vodka with the other. Ivan tries to lie down on his back too, but is encumbered by another empty bottle behind him. He pushes it away with his free hand. When trying to lie down again. His head lands on the bottle, but he's a bit too drunk to care, he just stays like that. That's going to be his pillow. It is to be noted that while there are two open bottles, Alfred has abstained from taking a sip, knowing that he'll eventually have to drive home.

"You know, I kinda regret not studying Astronomy at all in university," Ivan said, biting the tip of the bottle. In the end he had gone for Computer Science.

"Me too," Alfred replied. "But a degree on Engineering for me wasn't bad at all. Not like I'm doing much with it, though."

Ivan reaches to Alfred and pulls his sleeve slightly to get his attention.

"Your telescope still works?"

"Pfft, that thing's been broken for years," Alfred replies. "I never got rid of it, though. I've been saying I'm 'fixing' it for years, but it's just gathering dust in my basement."

"Why cling onto old stuff, though." Ivan takes a sip of Vodka.

"It's not old stuff until it becomes irrelevant, right?" Alfred turns his body on its side to face Ivan. His head rests on one hand. "We still love space and stuff. Hell, we are gazing at it right now!"

"Yeah, even the other club members called us weird." Ivan gulps down the remaining contents of the bottle. "If you want, I could help you clean your basement after I leave the town."

"Oh that'd be... Wait what?" with furrowed brows, Alfred's eyes widen.

"What?" Ivan doesn't understand the reaction.

"What did you say?"

"I'd help you throw the trash." Ivan shruggs.

"What do you mean you're gonna move out of town?" Alfred drags his own body closer to Ivan.

"I'm thinking of it." Ivan plays with his hair, dodges his gaze. He clasps both hands together, doesn’t elaborate further.

"And your job?"

"Teaching has always been part-time stuff. I'm more established as a programmer now. I'm just waiting for a reply from any of the places I applied into."

"What the- Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Ivan turns his back on Alfred. He hugs the empty bottle of vodka like a teddy bear.

"That matters because...?"

"Then just... why?"

"I really want to get rid of the old stuff myself." Ivan replies with a hand his chest. "You know what I mean?"

Alfred stops making questions. He lies on his back again and sights. His breath is visible in the warm vapor escaping his mouth. His glasses become foggy so he takes them out. And so he finally notices that there's no moon to be seen anywhere in the firmament. But the stars were still there, still, beautful, The location of Ivan's home near the countryside made the precious stars even more visible on the darker environment. Even if visible, a full moon would not outshine them that night. He can almost hear them twinkle, if such a thing existed outside of cartoon sound effects. He turns to Ivan. He is seeing them too. They are reflected on his irises.

Alfred hadn't paid as much attention to space and the stars as he'd have liked after he started university. Even less so after his telescope broke down. It was the telescope Ivan gave him for his birthday, when they were on their high school's Astronomy club. Meeting Ivan again as a teacher in the same school gave both of them a chance to get back to those interests, after having to push them aside in favor of their new duties and obligations.

Though that came only recently. Right now they can to tolerate each other, yet at the time of their first encounter as teachers, after separation during university, Ivan wanted nothing to do with him. It was like their time as two territorial chimps posing as teenage nerds was the only relationship they ever had. As if they had never managed to become best friends before they had to part ways. And it was all his fault, he thought; for as early as that reencounter Alfred realized that just like the stars, Ivan too had become inaccessible after he smashed the telescope with his baseball bat.

"Dude, maybe you should go to bed, you know," Alfred sat up. "I should go home too, I guess."

"I'm not done with this vodka." Ivan declared, lifiting the bottle with force.

Alfred slaps the bottle out of Ivan's hands and it falls off the rooftop. The shrill sound of glass shattering offscreen leaves the state of the ground by the house's entrance to be imagined. Ivan glares at Alfred, a few veins seem to be popping out.

"It was empty anyway. Come on big boy, you drunk."

A grmbly Ivan lifts his arm towards Alfred. Alfred takes his hand and helps him sit up. Ivan stands up on his own, but as soon as he starts showing signs of dizziness Alfred holds him. He makes sure Ivan gets back inside in one piece. All the while Alfred is not even trying to hide that Ivan is a bit too heavy for him. But Alfred would rather place the blame on Ivan being "fat" instead of lack of strength or exhaustion due to the time.

At some point even before they left the rooftop Ivan's body decides without telling anyone that it will stop cooperating altogether. So Alfred has to carry him all the way back to his bedroom as well. Ivan's head and arms are perched onto Alfred's shoulder and the tip of his feet are being dragged on the floor.

"What the hell Ivan? You're effin' fat."

"I'm big boned," Ivan whispers.

"Big-boned my ass!"

Panting and grouching, Alfred grouches and throws Ivan on his bed. His legs are left hanging from the edge of the bed after he falls like the potato sack he bought earlier. He giggles from the slight bouncing on the mattress

"Really? I don't want to see and find out for myself," Ivan talks back and crawls his way into the center of the bed to fit his whole body in.

"Shut up. You're the fat one here."

"Don't worry, Alf. Softer bodies are cute too." Ivan makes squeezing motions with both hands.

"You say the weirdest things when you're wasted." Chuckling, Alfred slaps Ivan's hands then hides them on his pockets.

"Who's wasted?"

"You are wasted."

Ivan shakes his head left to right. Standing next to the bed, Alfred leans close to Ivan.

"Come on, big boy, take off your shoes and go to sleep already." He says, patting the other's large chest. "Let's hope you don't wake up all hung over. I'll lock the doors well and turn off the lights, so don't worry, okay? Good night.

Alfred walks out of the room and closes the door. But Ivan keeps talking, seemingly not realizing Alfred is not there anymore.

"Say, Alfred. We didn't use to be like this. Do you still want us to remain as rivals? Even now?"

The door of the room is thrown open. Alfred knows the best would have been to ignore the other's rambling and leave, but he is overcome by a an impulse even stronger than him. His excuse is that he is just making sure Ivan's really saying what he heard or that he's not asking for help for whatever reason. He just stops and keeps listening, though. He is yet to step back inside.

"When I said I regret not studying Astronomy, I meant it."

Ivan is now lying on his belly. His face rests against a pillow, so his words are muffled, but Alfred is able to make out most of what he's saying with little trouble.

"We've been so childish. And it's my fault we are like this."

Alfred is uncertain about the point Ivan is trying to get to. Maybe is just pointless drunken rambling, but he wants to listen still.

He adjusts his glasses and leans on the doorframe. Ivan turns his body again to face the window next to the bed and curls his body in a ball. Even his wide back begins to look small in Alfred eyes.

"I'm sorry for moving back to Russia instead of going for the University we wanted. I left you alone, and told you confusing, unwanted things too."

Alfred's heart becomes heavy inside his chest, his lips shut tight, curled downwards. He steps inside and returns to Ivan's side. He sits on his bed. Ivan face is still turned away from him.

"Since we met again I've been doing as you told me before I left. But it hurts, you know, going back to this after we got to become friends."

Alfred gets further in the bed and pulls Ivan's shoulder to face him. Ivan looks at him with squinty, glassy eyes. It is uncertain if alcohol is to blame for that.

"Don't touch me," Ivan whines. He languidly throws a pillow to alfred's face. "I'm sorry Alfred but what do you even want anymore? You rejected me then, but won't stop teasing me now."

"Hey Ivan I want to..."

"I don't want to like you anymore. You're too much."

Alfred's heart becomes even heavier. So much his body alone will be crushed under its weight. He allows himself to fall on top of Ivan to wrap his arms around him. His glasses fall off his face and on his hand, but he tosses them away. Ivan lifts both knees together. He wants to curl up again, but is unable to.

"I'm the one who's sorry," said Alfred.

He puts both hands on Alfred's sides, but is hesitant to return the gesture. Alfred buries his face in the gap between Ivan's neck and shoulder. Alfred's cold cheeks against the warmth of his body sends chills down Ivan's spine. The skin underneath his clothes get goosebumps. He closes his eyes.

"I shouldn't have reacted like that when you told me." Alfred muttered to the other's ear.

He clings tightly to Ivan's body. His resistance is waning, but Alfred hugs tighter and tigther as he continues.

"I was a stupid kid just like you. I was confused, and sad... and I got angry."

A knot swells inside Alfred's throat, he jitters, his arms and legs tremble, but he wouldn't stop.

"It was easier to hit you and call you disgusting and a traitor, instead of saying "goodbye" and accepting that maybe... I felt the same for you too."

Alfred's lungs run out of air after saying that. He makes a pause to breathe. Ivan doesn't respond. He opens his watery eyes to see Alfred, but everything is blurry in his eyes and hazy in his head. He can't tell if he's dreaming or not, so he too, wraps his arms tight around the other. He runs his hands back and forth on his back. He wants to confirm he's holding the real deal and not an alcohol-induced hallucination.

"Ivan, I didn't want you to leave... I don't want you to leave again now. I like you too."

And like that, the thoughts weighting down on Alfred's heart escape through the air he exhales. Ivan turns his face in and goes for a kiss. He misses and smooches the corner of the other's lips. Smiling, Alfred cups Ivan's face on one hand and joins their lips properly. And it was all great until Alfred noticed the smell and taste of Vodka and remembered that Ivan was drunk as f...

"Wait wait wait. Stop."

Alfred gets up. Suddenly he doesn't feel as heavy anymore. He picks his glasses from the floor and fixes his jacket.

"No good. Let's... try again when you're sober," He says after clearing his throat. However, Ivan was already passed out.

After realizing Ivan's done for the night, Alfred begins walking in circles around the room at a pace so fast he's almost hopping like a rabit. He feels so energized he might as well do it. He cover his mouth to muffle what would otherwise be uncontrollable squealing.

After the euphoria wears off the events that transpired moments ago sink in completely. In a single day did they just sort out years of buried feelings and childish grudges? Oh boy, no. But they sure had one hell of a start.

Now A stream of questions flooded Alfred's mind. With what had happened, does that mean they are lovers now? Will Ivan even remember what happened? If he doesn't remember, will he tell him and explain what happened? Would Ivan believe him and/or confirm his confession?

He doesn't know if he should feel happy or scared. More importantly, he's thinking whether or not he should stay over tonight. It's not like he doesn't want to go home. However, leaving a drunk person alone is always dangerous, even when they are asleep.

As carefully as he can, Alfred takes off Ivan's shoes and leaves them next to the bed. He turns Ivan's body on its side and puts him on a position to lessen the choking risk in case he gets nauseous; although so far Ivan doesn't show signs of sickness. His breath is calm and follows a normal pace too.

A bit hesitant, Alfred decides to check Ivan's pockets, only so he doesn't crush or damage anything under his weight or when rolling on bed. He takes out Ivan's phone and wallet out of his pants and leaves them on the night table. Ivan didn't seem to have anything on his jacket, but then Alfred pulls out a now wrinkly folded paper sheet. He opens it and the more he examines it the more flustered he becomes. Of all the weird erotic art of them two their students had made, that one was by far the most detailed and realistic-looking as of yet.

He could only wonder where did that thing come from. Leaving the drawing together with the other objects, Alfred goes to pull the thickest blanket he can find out of the closet and covers Ivan with it. He rushes out of the room to lock the house properly, makes a trip to the kitchen, and then returns to Ivan with a tall glass of water, just in case.

Alfred leans close to Ivan and kisses his forehead, an affectionate, loud smooch. He sits on the bed again, close to Ivan's legs. The wisest thing to do for now is to stay there and take care of his beloved rival. At least until he wakes up. Whatever comes next for them they will figure. After a day like that, It's not like he will be able to fall sleep anyway.

The End.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Final note:

Writing this was one hell of a ride. This is my first fanfic ever, and I'm not a very good writer when it comes to prose. But I gave it my best shot, and wrote this with lots of love. I'm sorry if the overall tone or mood is too bittersweet or if the humour is kinda sour. I also hope Ivan and Alfred’s backstory wasn’t too hard or confusing to piece totgether. I'd still say the ending is a happy one, even if there's an air of uncertainty for the future haha.

Thank you for reading and for your god-tier patience, Patch. I love your blog.

#rusame secret santa 2017 #laaaate #purplepatchwork #rusame #amerus #hetalia #aph russia #aph america #hetalia fanfic

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glitterysummerkitty · 6 years

Text

Dr Bombshell & Mr Hollywood

A Jake Gyllenhaal Fan- fiction

Prologue// Chpt 1// Chpt 2// Chpt 3// Chpt 4// Chpt 5// Chpt 6

Chapter 7

Sunday evening was by far the most phenomenal day Candice had, in terms of fun, in a very long time. As soon as the game began Candice fell completely in her zone and she had even managed to impress the hell out of everyone present. At the end of the day Dave had been a proud captain and both Jaylon and Ronnell were all praises with Ronnell even trying to bribe her into abandoning Dave and joining him for the following matches.

Even Mabel was surprised and after the glorious victory of the Omega- 3’s, the first question Mabel had asked her was ‘Where the hell have you been? Jheez Candy! I didn’t even know you were so good at this sport.’ Candice blushed but didn’t think it important to remind her best friend that she had been the captain of her team college team and they had won several trophies. She even won several awards, which were now displayed proudly in a pristine glass shelf at Washington State University.

At the end of the friendly match Pizza’s and beers were ordered and jokes and stories about their spouses and children were shared. Candice kept mum and tried to stay out of anyone’s focus but more often it had been futile since she was the star player of today and so everyone’s attention was on her. Especially Uma. Candice had never thought at the beginning of the evening that she would ever be comfortable with Uma but surprisingly at the end she found out how hilarious Uma really was. Basically Uma was Gemma multiplied hundred times. Candice believed she could handle Uma and her eccentric behaviour.

After such a beautiful Sunday came Monday bringing along with it, its infamous blues. Candice groaned as she reached out and shut the alarm. She tilted her head and looked outside the window. It was still dark out there and although it wasn’t snowing anymore it was drizzling. Candice saw the little droplets of water glistening under the streetlight against the glass surface. Candice sighed. Strange fact check about Candice- she hates rain. Yes, she loves snow but hates rain. Why? Don’t ask because even she didn’t have a reason for it.

With the comforts of her warm sheets and Mr Ruskin’s hot body pressed against her sides, Candice didn’t feel like getting up. But work was work and so she closed her eyes counted from five to one backwards and then hopped out of her bed.

She barely got time to breathe on Mondays as she had three classes to teach and the clinic is almost always full on Mondays, filling up her schedule for early evening to late night. The first class was with master’s student and their class had been on a topic which was more challenging and close to her heart- Maternal Nutrition and it’s consequences. They had discussed and critically analysed some of the studies out there and compared the methods and their varied results. It was fun.

But then her next class was with first year Grads and that wasn’t something she enjoyed especially considering she would have to face Zachary. After that day, when she had kicked him out her class, she hadn’t seen him and it made her slightly nervous. Also, after just having such a challenging class, to have to talk about the process of digestion wasn’t something appealed to her.

Mentally preparing herself, Candice pushes open the door to the large hall and entered it. As she did, the rambunctious class fell to a low hush. As usual, on the very first row at the very centre the seat was occupied by one of her least favourite students Brianna. Candice had observed how the slightly obese girl with a bad case of acne and a harsh expression, never mingled with her other classmates. She always sat by herself and had minimal to no contact with her mates. Candice had also made an observation as to how Brianna seemed to have a problem with her although she would never understand why.

“Good morning class. I hope you all had a great weekend.”, she started as she scanned the class and found it devoid of Zach. She didn’t know if she should be relieved by it or not.

“We sure did!”, someone said but Candice couldn’t point out.

“How was yours Dr Averell?”, a slim, blonde seated two rows up from the front row asked in her sweet voice as she twirled a piece of hair in her finger.

“Better. Thank you Cameron.”, Candice smiled back.

“So... Today I am going to talk about the whole process of digestion, absorption and Metabolism.”, there were some groans, some exited rustling of pages showing eagerness to write down notes while some just sat straight with their nose buried in their phone screen.

“Digestion is the first crucial stage where food is broken down to smaller chemical constitutes for absorption. There are two ways this is achieved- Mechanically and chemically.”, Candice moved to the next slide on her presentation, when the door to the hall opened and in strode Zach. Instantly every girl’s, except Brianna, attention was consumed by him and Candice felt compelled to roll her eyes but she didn’t.

“Sorry I am late, Dr A. I was eating breakfast and went in deep thought about all the things I could do during the time I waste during your class and lost track of time.”, he smirked as she took to his usual seat. Immediately the class broke out into an “Ooooohh” and “Burn”. Candice gave the entire class a sharp look before finally settling her glare at the infuriating boy.

“Really?”, Candice feigned surprise, “Well from observing Mr Meyer’s performance in class for an entire year one would assume that he’s incapable of deep contemplation but I am glad to know you can.”, with that Candice turned her attention to her PowerPoint. She ignored the snickers and Zac’s stabbing glare as she went on about peristalsis.

Candice decided to grab lunch from the ‘Four Hundred Guild’- a restaurant within the campus that served exclusively to the faculty and staff of Pruitt and Hearst University- before going to her next class. She shot Mabel a text, letting her know where she was and then decided to call Bethany to check up on her aunt. Apparently Aunty Aubrey wasn’t doing so well. Her latest cycle of chemo had left her very weak. It had Candice worried but Bethany assured her that she and a few women from the church were doing everything to help her through this. Candice end the conversation with a promise to send some more money by the weekend and also a request to fill her hospital room with some Calla Lily. “She loves them.”, Candice said.

Over a lip smacking lemon thyme chicken, Candice narrated the whole incident over Zach to Mabel, who was flabbergasted by Zac’s audacity and also found it hard to believe that Candice had stood up against him.

“While I am very proud of you for what you have done, I am also worried. What if he decides to take action on his threat? In my opinion you shouldn’t continue to antagonise him. It’s a question of your career.”, she advised as she shoved a brussel sprout in her mouth.

“I know. It’s just he’s so infuriating.”, Candice grumbled.

At half past three Candice left from the university. Once again she made a stop at Starbuck on her way to clinic and faced the same server as the last time. She placed her order without making much eye- contact and then sat down at the table. This time Candice had time enough to have her drink at the café.

As she waited for her Tarragon Chicken Salad Sandwich and a tall cup of Americano she got her laptop out to check her e- mail. There lay a tiny dose of happiness waiting for her and Candice grabbed it.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 19 Feb 2018, 10:00 am

Dear Lynne,

I have finally got time today and I am determined to spend the day reading and hopefully get to the end of your book. As I am typing this mail, on my desk lies your book, a tall mug of coffee and a lot of snacks. Believe me when I say that I am on a mission to finish this book today.

You can expect to hear from me by tonight on my opinions on what I thought about the book. Until then I am signing out! Xoxo

Regards,

An Avid Reader

Candice grinned. She loved the reader’s enthusiasm and could only hope she felt as enthusiastic once she finishes reading the book. Candice wasn’t one to care much about what other’s opinion. She wrote ‘Love Knows no Bounds’ because it was something she believed and something that she wanted to write about. It didn’t matter if others didn’t buy what she had to sell. But for some unknown reason ‘An Avid Reader’s’ opinion mattered to her very much. She giggled silently to herself at the (xoxo) part making her wonder who the reader could be. Was it a man or a woman? Was he/ she old or young? Which part of US was this person writing from?

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 19 Feb 2018, 3:45 pm

An Avid Reader,

Your enthusiasm towards my work is encouraging. For any artist, I believe, appreciation of their work means above all and they while they can do without it, when a reader like you shows so much eagerness it really gives much pleasure. I hope you continue to show similar gusto until the end and after that too.

I will be waiting to hear from you as well. Until then happy reading!

Regards,

Lynne Brooks

(Author of-

“Love Knows no Bound”)

As she ate she went through some more fan sent e- mails and replied to few. She reached clinic on time and Ashley greeted her with a great news that owing to the bad weather, Mrs Laine had cancelled her appointment and so had two other patients.

“Dr Averell. Do you think I could leave early today? Actually it’s my boyfriend and I seven month anniversary.”, Ashley asked. In the three months that Ashley had been working here this was the first time she had asked for anything so Candice didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Sure. Oh and I probably think it’s a good idea because on Wednesday I need you here late. I want all the patient files organised and prepared for the next month’s audit.”, Candice informed. The red head looked happy.

Candice saw the few patients who had braved the weather while using her free time to update her patient’s information into the software. The said task was mundane and taxing to Candice but something that she had to be done. When only one file was left on the table she opened it and the name sent both, shivers down her spine and anger through her veins. Candice marvelled at being able to experience two varied emotions belonging to different spectrum, simultaneously, at the sight of the same name.

There is a knock on the door and Candice looked up, expecting to see Ancil walk in but it was Ashley.

“Dr Averell your seven o’ clock is here. I just wanted to ask if it’s alright if I leave?”, Ashley fidgeted with her fingers. Candice thought, amused, if she came off intimidating to Ashley.

“Of course you can leave. Thank you Ashley.”, she smiled. Ashely smiled back nervously before scrambling out the room. Candice wondered what she ever did to intimidate the poor girl.

“Good evening Dr Averell.”, that familiar baritone voice filled her room making her tremble in her seat.

“Good evening Mr Dumont. Please have a seat.”, she mumbled as she motioned for him to take a seat. It didn’t matter if Ashley found her intimidating or not but Ancil managed just fine to drain every ounce of courage she possessed.

“You look gorgeous. As always.”, he lowered his voice and by the time he said always it was merely a whisper. Candice squirmed in her seat as she felt her muscles in her stomach and everything south of it clench.

“Thank you... How are you today?”, she said a little out of breath and blushed deeply. She kept her gaze fixed on the file before her.

“Better than I have been in days.”, he replied.

“Good. How much of the plan have you been able to follow?”, she asked as she made notes on her file.

“Hhhmm...”, Ancil trailed off forcing her to look up when he didn’t say anything for a while. Candice watched mesmerized as he tapped his lean finger against his lips. His face looked like he was genuinely trying to recollect. Candice wanted those lips wrapped around her own, she wanted to run her tongue over it, she wanted to...

Candice flushed as she found him smirking at her, apparently having caught her staring at his lips. While she knew her body had its natural cravings, she chastised herself for fantasizing about her patient right in front of him. Embarrassed she turned her attention back to the file and for the rest of the session didn’t look up until necessary.

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #Gyllenhaal #Maggie Gyllenhaal #prince of persia #prisoners #southpaw #source code #imagine #fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #hot actors #love #romance #not a real story

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scrambledthoughtz · 4 years

Text

fed up w/ quarantine & other thoughts

been feeling really fucking fed up with myself recently. every time i feel like complaining about this quarantine or shelter-in-place, i feel like a stuck-up asshole and i just remember that TikTok that's like "Kim, there are literally people dying." i understand that i'm in a huge position of privilege given the circumstances because my family and i can afford to stock up on food, toilet paper, and cleaning agents. i know that we are lucky to even have the chance to complain about the fact that we are stuck at home -- reading, sleeping, catching up on lectures, painting, or whatever other activites people have picked up during this quarantine. i know that there are people out there (like doctors, nurses, mail men, grocery store workers, Uber drivers and more) who are working their asses off to make sure that we are able to maintain at least some degree of normalcy despite the chaos that we have all been thrown into. and massive props to them -- i really can't even begin to express my gratitude for those who are still working hard at their jobs while the rest of us get to stay at home. so trust me when i say i know. i know i shouldn't really even be complaining because in the grand scheme of things, i am lucky. my family is lucky. many of us are lucky. but with all that being said, i'm not going to deny the fact that these extended periods of time spent cooped up inside has taken a bit of a toll. i've been so fed up with myself recently for a number of reasons. first, it has been SO hard to focus at home. i'm not used to being inside for so long, or not having the option to go somewhere else to study when my room proves itself to be a massive distraction. it's not like i don't have anything to do. i do. i had midterms last week, and finals this week. but despite this, i've found it so difficult to focus and to commit to sitting down and actually put effort into my schoolwork. i'm the type of person who hates turning something in when i know i haven't put my best effort into. sometimes it is what it is, but especially with my bigger assignments (like this 10-page research paper i have due at the end of this week), i would absolutely hate to turn in something that i'm not at least decently proud of. and i've always been this way. i always tell people the story of when i fell asleep the night before my country report was due, and i woke up to it being finished, thanks for my mom to took over and finished up my project while i had temporarily passed out on the floor next to the computer. in the end, i got an A, but i was still upset because i felt like i didn't deserve the grade that i had gotten. it was my mom's A, not my own. since then, i've mellowed down a little. i've grown to understand that i can't put my 100% into everything, but i still hate turning in something that i'm not proud of. but i just can't find the willpower to sit down and freaking type out this paper. i don't even know why. actually, maybe i do. a few weeks ago, i went to an academic coaching appointment at Foothill, and i told the coach that i may have an perfectionist instict where i drag out assignments because i know that they're going to take a lot of effort and brainpower and i don't want to churn out anything sub-par. it's a worthy revelation, but it doesn't do me any good if i don't work on it. now, i'm not a perfect (or even a stellar) student by any stretch of the imagination, but i don't think i really realized how much of my identity is tied with school and my education. without that structure and constant push, i feel genuinely lost. it's like, "what now?" what am i working towards? if i have too much time on my hands, i'm almost always itching for that empty space to be filled with schoolwork, or any type of productive activity. it's not like i LOVE school or anything, but i also don't hate it. and actually, nowadays, i really miss it. i miss my instructors. i miss my classmates. i miss sitting in a classroom and participating in-person. i'm honestly kind of sick of talking with people over the phone, text, email, or FaceTime. i miss the physical face-to-face connection. i miss my workplace. i miss it a lot. i miss my supervisors, my co-workers, and the ridiculous conversations we'd have during the night shifts. i miss laughing so hard that my stomach hurts and tears are streaming out of my eyes. i've been spending an obscene amount of time on social media, and it's been more toxic, time-consuming, and draining than anything. i've uninstalled and reinstalled Snapchat, Instagram, and TikTok countless times over the past week. i honestly lost count of the number of times that i uninstalled one of those apps in a brief moment of determination and productivity, and then reinstalled in a prolonged period of boredom. my sister has been so productive these past few days, and i envy her focus. i'm starting to develop an irrational resentment towards her. she is able to focus for long periods of time, she has the willpower to not snack out of boredom, and she has somehow developed impressive upper body-strength. she goes on daily runs, and she is able to manufacture structure for herself in an otherwise long, uneventful day. the days are beginning to blend together, and i've told myself that i wouldn't let myself succumb to boredom. i try to keep myself busy. i downloaded an audiobook that i listen to in the morning and while i'm walking my dog. it's a charming book, something that i wouldn't be able to get through if i was physically reading it myself. it's called "The Rosie Project." i see so many people rediscovered hobbies and talents, learning how to cook, finally getting to that "stack of books that they've been meaning to get to", creating their own home workouts, and i feel so much guilt. i feel so much guilt that i've been sitting on my ass all day, complaining. not doing much except for refreshing each of my social media apps, hoping for new posts to scroll through. i know that there are things that i should be doing, but i just can't. i know that i should learn to cook because i am going to be moving out soon. i know that i should take this opportunity to work out more often. i know that i've been looking for more time to read, and this extra time has cropped up. i know, i know, i know. i'm beginning to develop familiar resentment towards my friend, who keeps on sending me frightening statistics. stop getting your anxiety all over me. i know that the amount of coronavirus cases in the Santa Clara county has tripled in the past week. i know that the president is shutting down borders and banning international (and even domestic) travel. i know that we are basically trapped. i know that a "shelter-in-place" directive is one of the most serious directives out there, and that it should not be taken lightly. i know that we need to work on flattening the curve, and that we are barely even there. i know that school is probably cancelled for the rest of the semester and that it'll take place virtually, even though the shelter-in-place is only supposed to last until April 7. i know that it'll be extended because the spread of this virus has shown no signs of slowing down. i know that, despite what the media tells us, the elderly are not the only ones who are susceptible. wash your hands, wear a face-mask when you go out, wear gloves, don't touch your face or your mouth. social distancing is the legal mandate. stay 6 feet away. no social gatherings. stay at home, stay at home, stay at home. don't go to the beach and party it up like a fucking idiot. all non-essential businesses shut down. no one knows how long this is going to last. the death toll keeps increasing. our governor may even shut down beaches because ppl aren't taking the shelter-in-place mandate seriously enough. it's crazy, it's uncertain. thankfully my professors have been so understanding, so kind, and so generous. my Ethics professor made our final option (although i'm still going to take it because i have a fucking B in the class right now -- another story for another time). my research methods professor has extended our paper deadline three times, and she sends out announcements reminding us to take care of ourselves. i know that it's a difficult time, but i can't help but feel guilty. yes, it's a difficult time for everyone involved, but surely more so for others? i'm just sitting at home complaining and eating chips. this doesn't apply to me? i don't deserve an extension on anything because i'm not doing anything anyways. it's not like i have anything else to do except my assignments, and i'm still not doing them. i feel like a lazy piece of shit who is just going to take advantage of these extensions to procrastinate even more than i already am. sure, it's lonely at times and i've only really talked in-person with my family for more than a week. but i didn't do anything to deserve this. the real support and recognition should go to those on the frontlines -- the doctors, nurses, infectious disease experts, and so on. props even to my dad, who is a dentist. i'm just sitting at home, having the luxury of doing nothing, having my meals made for me, while my professors are frantically working behind the scenes to make sure we still get our education. i don't deserve this. it always boils down to this, and i'm not sure why. a lingering feeling of guilt or "un-deserved-ness".

#personal #coronavirus

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angel-scythe · 5 years

Text

Chloe : Chapter 25

Hi people !!

I hope this week is starting good for you?

I give you a lot-lot-lot-lot of love !

And if you have a bit of time (or want to read the next part) here’s my Convin fanfiction! I hope you’ll love this chapter.

Have a nice day!!

| °|

16th December, 8:00

Closing the door of the car, Connor had his new phone against his ear.

“Hi this is Hank. Not here at the moment. You can leave a message if that’s what turns you on but don’t expect me to call back. Beep. … Whatever.”

“Daddy? It’s me, Connor. I just arrived, at the precinct. Everything is alright, I’ll wait for you. I hope you’re alright. Have a nice day!”

He rang off and looked toward Gavin who locked the car. The Human glanced toward him then went to the commissionership. He entered on it, passed the security and sighed when Felix got up and walked toward him.

“I worked to have the mandate and I got the validation at the instant,” he said as he approached.

“Why? People are working as early as that?” Gavin checked the time on his phone.

Yup, it was only eight a.m. and two minutes.

“The validations are made by Androids. Some works all the night or at the right time. I know them so I joined them in particular.”

“Why?”

Felix spread the arms to Connor.

“To start to work?”

The RK800 came to the other Android and hugged him. Wanda wasn’t there anymore and the four others Android cops too. The Humans left as their schedule was off so they were alone. Felix was always there, in fact. He didn’t sleep, just worked.

“Ugh. I rather go on my desk and do nothing. Let’s fucking do nothing!”

“Well, I am sorry but we need to works.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will bring you to the house of those persons by force. You must know that I already uploaded Connor’s memory about the case. I am glad you have found who is the criminal.” He frowned. “The only thing I could not discover is where Chloe Kamski has disappeared. Is it not a good thing to do when we will have put those people in jail?”

“No,” Gavin replied. “Not my work.”

“And you’re Gavin’s partner. I’m not sure you can work by your own…”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the only fucking fuckers who act exactly like you should. You’re a plastic prick and you don’t try to be a Human. Good point now shut up I’ll plan to sleep all day.”

“Gavin…”

It was Connor voice. Well it was hard to difference it with Felix’s one but there was definitely something on it.

“Okay… let’s go.”

Gavin was sitting on his seat, legs across the desk but he immediately got up and went to the exit.

“Aw, I was about to knock him out and drag him with me,” Felix said.

“Don’t need,” Connor smiled. “Go and keep an eye on him! I’ll stay here!”

“Alright. Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

Felix let him go, print the mandate to be sure, send it his partner’s device and followed Gavin’s pace. When he got out, the man was already in his car, switching the radio to find a good music. He had the habit to say it was always crappy R’n’B in the morning. The RK900 entered in the car and Gavin sighed, putting his keys in the vehicle to turn on the motor.

16th December, 8:21

He really didn’t want to be there. He hated this place. It was this place he grew up during two years. It seemed everything was the same. The white house, the perfect roof in a demi-circle, the square window with silver framing, it was metal and he knew it, the shiny door and the perfect garden. The lawn was perfectly cut and so green it seemed to be fake. The flowers there used to be pink, his mother favorite color, but now they were purple, silver and white. Were they fake or feed by colorant to make them resplendent like that?

Everything looked fake…

Gavin opened his car door and got out of the vehicle. He turned the head toward the Android who followed him and, with his keys, he closed the carriage by the distance.

“Let’s go.”

He checked his gun then walked in the white gravels he used to crunch under his feet.

In fact, he remembered, too, the slum he lived once and even if it was awful, he had more good memories from there. Here it was…

He rubbed his nose. Once, he ran away from this house, face bleeding and he would never put his nose like before. First of all because he couldn’t find someone to heal him, then because it seems it was meant to be like that. In the end, he didn’t hate that. Some said it was manly plus, when he was still Chloe, that break the feminine beauty he tried all the time to destroy. So it was perfect.

In the end, wasn’t it a good thing that Connor liked that scar?

In front of the door, he let Felix rang the bell.

Soon, it was open and behind it? Not Cheryl Kamski but a housewife. She was in old clothes so she could dirty them, in fact, her purple trousers has bleach spot here and there and she looked tired, her blond hair in a bun quite untie.

“Yes?”

She looked annoyed too. A look like “what are you doing there at this hour?”

“I’m the Detective Gavin Reed and there is Felix. We’re there about a case involving Mr. and Mrs. Kamski. Can we see them?” He showed his badge.

“Yes… They’re still asleep but I can wake them up. Just… stay there.”

Gavin shook his head and gave a bump on Felix’s shoulder. This one showed his hand were the mandate was.

“Let’s us come and look around while you wake up your… masters.” Gavin smirked.

“Okay…”

She let them enter and went upstairs.

“Scan and stuff. Do your fucking job, you plastic prick.”

“Yes, Gavin.”

Felix moved in the house when Gavin just couldn’t. It didn’t change…

When he walked, finishing in the Living Room as if it was normal, he could see it was different in the end. The blood he let flow on the floor when he fled wasn’t there anymore.

Logic.

He looked the pictures and the decoration. He came back to an old frame with the two parents hugging their children. A young girl looking shy, or uneasy, in a pink dress really fluffy and a little boy also shy in his jeans and shirt stuff. He had glasses on his noses and the tiny lady had her clenched in her fist. He hated that picture.

“This house is perfectly cleaned. It is hard to find clue there.”

“Yeah, they seem to have a lot of employees. They must be rich.”

“In fact, no.”

Gavin looked up toward the Android. How fast was it or how many time he lost time in his memories? Or… both?

“I find bill and account statements, they often receive money from Elijah Kamski.”

“Well, they’re his parents, you can understand they’ll do stuff like that.”

“Yes. But that also means they are depends of someone to live. That can change everything. And they look to have any fund they need.”

Felix handed him the papers he found. Gavin looked them and sighed before glancing around. The couple didn’t come yet so he started to help the Android and searched here and there. Any clue.

They find an amount of knife, perfectly cleaned, but that wasn’t strange. The real thing strange was because Felix could match them with the weapons of the crime. As he searched, he found more accurate things and connected with every machine to find planning and schedule. Even if they thought it was erased.

Gavin won’t say it loud but, yeah, that, that was really useful for the police.

Sound came from the stairs as Felix and Gavin looked in the garage. They find stuff and the little infrared lamp that the Human has helped a lot too.

“Excuse me?”

Gavin turned the head to see the housewife.

“Madam and Mister are there in the living room. They asked if you want something to drink?”

“Coffee. Anything with coffee.”

“Alright. I’m coming soon.”

Gavin and Felix came back to the living room were the couple was. Both were in the sixties now and the man looked pretty chubby. He was kind of bald and had a mustache while the woman wore a lot of bracelets on her wrinkled wrist. Her hairs were died in a heavy brown color which looked absolutely not natural. You could think people with money would look better but nop…

Or it was just him? He couldn’t see them pretty anymore.

“Good morning, Officer. I hope you’ll understand that we’re still tired. We went to bed at three a.m.”

“It’s was five a.m. for me and I’m perfectly okay,” he replied nastily. “Plus, we’re there to ask you few things.”

Except in Loïs case, a lot of his old classmates couldn’t remember well what they did to one or other moment. Some had searched in old calendar, some in their e-mail or whatever so…

“What did you do the June 11th 2030?”

“Excuse me?” the man hiccupped.

“You perfectly heard.”

“We can’t reply to that! We’re only Humans?”

Gavin sneered.

“Oh yeah? So if a crime was made this day, you can’t proof it’s not you?”

“No, but…”

“Dipshit, ask them for every date.”

“Yes.”

The Android started to ask and as he did, Gavin couldn’t help a smile, seeing them grew paler and paler.

However more they approach of the date, more they could remember and that special day where the ST200 was drowned.

“Can you stop asking all this things?! We don’t know! We don’t know! I can’t remember what I eat yesterday so what I did one week ago?!”

“It is true,” Felix replied. “However, Mister Kamski, you look pretty uneasy. Something is wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“You are lying to me.”

Gavin got up, putting his coffee on the table. The housewife had brought it there few minutes before. The interrogation took since minutes and minutes.

“Let’s do it in another way, will you?” He walked toward the pictures. “Nice girl. She’s pretty. I didn’t know Elijah Kamski has a sister. I’m impressed. You must be happy to know he did a model after her?”

“That fucking bitch!”

Cheryl got up, angrily.

“I can’t believe he wanted to do a model from her. She’s a monster.”

“So you’ll be happy to know she’s dead?” Gavin asked.

“Dead?” the man said.

“That doesn’t change a thing.”

“Why?” he asked. “Because, anyway, nothing changed for you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Officer,” Gary said.

“False,” Felix commented. “You are lying.”

“You hate your daughter and you hate seeing her face. Each time you saw it on a bot, you just grew angry and instigate crime.”

“No!”

The man got up.

“Again: false. And my programs never lied. And we have proof with the knives, weapon and even hint of thirium.”

“What are you saying?!” Cheryl said harshly. “You were playing with us?!”

“When you were asleep and we were waiting for you, we searched evidence. And found it. We could have our avowal or… you can try to stay strong in jail. Anyway, you’ll finish in jail so… avowal, not avowal?”

Gavin smiled in a nasty way.

Felix got up as his partners took manacles.

“You can’t prove we have killed those whores! You can’t put manacles on us!” Cheryl screamed.

“Our son is rich, real rich! He’ll make you regrets anything! He’ll come to get us out of that!” Gary added.

“False and right.”

“Yeah? I don’t care.”

The couple ran away in the living room despite their old legs. Felix jumped and took the man by the shirt while Gavin blocked the woman passage and knock her out.

It wasn’t a proof… but it helped.

#It's on ao3 #Chloe #DBH #Detroit become Human #Romance #Convin #Gavnor #Gavin800 #Gavin reed #Connor rk800 #rk800 #Transgender

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