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homespun-stories · 18 days

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Where Will The Baby Go?

For something that weighs around three kilos and measures in the region of 50cm, newborn babies sure do take up a lot of space. A little shy of three weeks ago, we brought our second baby back home—the same home we had brought back our first, just over four years ago. Many things have changed since then, not least the number of grey hairs on my head, but the one thing that has remained resolutely unchanged is the footprint of our apartment.

The fact of this sat with me all through 2022 and 2023, as my husband and I journeyed down the path of growing our family and all the complexities (read: hope, loss, love) that kind of process often entails. But where will the baby go? I'd silently fret to myself before I was even sure I’d have a baby at all to hold in my arms again. Objectively speaking we live in a small apartment, with enough bedrooms for two-thirds of the current occupants, excusing our enormous house cat who cares not for doors or boundaries and considers any available surface her territory for a hard-earned nap. To be honest, I’d welcome that kind of laissez-faire approach to our sleeping arrangements, flopping from sofa to bed to rug, but social conditioning and my extremely Type A personality requires routines and structure. No, the baby would need a bed, just like the rest of us, and we would need to work out where that bed was going to go.

It’s a profoundly modern and Western phenomenon, this suggestion that each individual requires their own bedroom or even their own bed. In the majority of countries around the world, co-sleeping and room sharing between parents and children is the standard practice of care, to the extent that it would be considered completely unreasonable to expect a child (let alone a baby) to sleep alone. In Japan, where co-sleeping ranks the highest in the world, sleep is described as a river, with the parents occupying the banks and the child as the flowing water held safely between. We co-slept with our daughter for the first six months of her life, although it wasn’t in the formation of a river but more like a motorbike (our bed) with a sidecar (her crib). Given the grunts, hoots and whistles she regularly emitted as she dozed, this analogy feels more apt than the backdrop of a babbling brook. In any instance, she was never more than an arm’s reach away during those thick, dark nights when every insane sound she made was heightened in the silence of a slumbering home. After that, we moved her into The Baby’s Room which we had decorated and furnished with playful odds and sods that said more about our whimsy of being parents than they did of any perceived personality trait of our child. It’s a curious thing, to decorate a room that someone else will occupy, without knowing a single thing about their tastes or interests.

The Baby’s Room had also been our study until that point, and when the time came to move the desk into the front room to make way for a changing table and crib, I felt slightly undone. I was ready to acknowledge that parenthood would come with an exchange of gains and losses, but there was something so bluntly literal about the act of becoming a mother that it necessitated my giving up a private place to write. I guess it’s a variation of that oft-debated line from Cyril Connelly: “There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hallway." The irony is that it was only once my daughter was born that I found the capacity within myself to put pen to paper in a more expansive way, and during my maternity leave I wrote the first draft of a book proposal. Perhaps it’s an even greater irony that four years later I am writing these words whilst my son is wailing in the room next door, as my husband tries to rock him to sleep. Perhaps, like nature, art will always find a way.

One of the consequences of giving up our study in place of The Baby’s Room, was the associated shame (entirely on my part) that came with living in a home that appeared too small for all our needs and wants. I come from a country that places a great deal of emphasis on the Family Home, variations of which most of my peers now live in and are currently extending, remodelling or digging out extensive basements underneath. Family Homes have a garden, enough bedrooms for everyone, a guest room, more than one bathroom, and the kinds of open plan kitchen-cum-dining rooms that are increasingly of a single aesthetic that populates all our Instagram feeds. Family Homes tend to come with their own social media accounts, so we can follow our friends’ #HomeReno updates and post fire emojis under pictures of construction sites. I have spent a good many years reflecting on what makes us feel good, mad and sad about home, and I can tell you that the insidious rise of interior design content which is beyond the skills and budget of the overwhelming majority is making a lot of us fucking miserable about our living situations.

After a while, the question of where will the baby go stopped masquerading as a concern about where, practically, the baby will sleep, and revealed itself for what it was: a shameful desire to meet some kind of social norm as a Family of Four. This revelation came to me in the winter of 2022, after a shockingly awful year pockmarked by loss. During this time we had tried, and failed, to sell our apartment and buy a house. For nine long months our home sat on the market, and most weekends we spent our free time cleaning and decluttering so the estate agent could bring one or two people over for a viewing that never materialised into anything other than a pass. That weekend, in early December, when we pulled our home off the market and accepted our fate, I wept. It was another grief, of sorts—the ambiguous loss of a life I had imagined in our new house; one with enough potential to become a Family Home.

These days, when I’m feeling a bit out of sorts at home and in need of a reset, I roam around the apartment and find things to fix or do—packing toys away in their rightful boxes, folding laundry, changing lightbulbs, that kind of thing. Invariably, I’ll end up standing in my daughter’s room gazing at all the things that make this space sing with her personality that we could never have anticipated when we picked out paint colours—the paintings bluetacked at a wonky angle on the wall, the rock and gravel collection, the basket of teddies, the plastic box stuffed with countless beaded bracelets she’s made for us all. I can’t even remember what it looked like when it was a study, and I don’t care any more. I didn’t lose anything when I moved my desk out, because it was never a trade to begin with. The day we turned that room into our daughter’s bedroom, we simply dialled up the joy in our lives. I couldn’t see it for a long time, but now I know that I’ve been living in a Family Home all along.

So where will the baby go now that we are four and our home is still, resolutely, the same size as before? He’ll go right here, of course—with us.

#lifeathome #feelslikehome #space

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nicki-flemings-curls · 1 year

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I posted 2,277 times in 2022

63 posts created (3%)

2,214 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@adventuresindolls

@doll-princesse

@desertdollranch

@dolls-and-cats

@benbunny

I tagged 128 of my posts in 2022

#american girl dolls - 46 posts

#american girl - 46 posts

#ag dolls - 46 posts

#ag - 44 posts

#american girl doll - 33 posts

#molly mcintire - 4 posts

#maritza ochoa - 3 posts

#truly me - 3 posts

#my dolls - 3 posts

#luciana vega - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#also americangirlstar i swear i’m not putting you on blast i wish it were a percy campaign and i hope we get one when the show comes out

My Top Posts in 2022:

Spring Has Sprung Week 1: Reading

I’m a little behind on the challenge, but I couldn’t resist the urge to show off Kit and Ruthie rereading Kit’s favorite book, Robin Hood.

This copy of Robin Hood was actually my dad’s back in the 60’s, which Kit and Ruthie appreciate the history of.

50 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

The picture of the book cover just has me thinking, I REALLY wish that we got less cartoony art for the girl of the year and the world by us books. Bc as everyone is debating which face mold the cover looks like, it’s like, well we don’t know exactly how a non-bitmoji looking makena looks. Like we do know what makena looks like, but the world by us art style looks like someone took the Disney princess face filter to every character. 🤷‍♀️ just my random rant of the day.

57 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

I got one of my grail sets in a lot this week, so Samantha is ready for adventure

69 notes - Posted August 23, 2022

I don’t know why I didn’t even consider that for the Harlem renaissance doll they would partner with Harlem Fashion Row considering they did that with WBU. But like I kinda adore that approach. The “look these are inspired by the fashion and glamor of the 20’s, these aren’t a part of Claudie’s story based collection, but they are inspired by fashion of the time”. I think that’s was a cool compromise to give us a flapper outfit. And that gold outfit? *chefs kiss*

95 notes - Posted August 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

When sellers describe their dolls as “perfect condition” then say “they are missing their original outfits and their hair needs brushing” in the next sentence.

129 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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mia-llewellyn · 2 years

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IN HEAT

A woman surrenders a single day to a young stranger

NAOMI - 33 years old, British

LUCAS - 20 years old, British

EXT. SMALL OPEN SQUARE BURIED IN NICE OLD TOWN, SOUTH OF FRANCE - MIDDAY

A scattering of plastic seating outside a small café.

Woman, NAOMI, approaches holding a map in one hand. She peaks into the café before taking a seat at one of the tables outside. Glancing around she pulls out a cigarette from her bag. She waits a few long moments, impatiently glancing at the beaded doorway. She checks her phone. Suddenly a young man, LUCAS, falls through and into the sunlight, turned towards the café as if half arguing with someone inside. He turns to NAOMI and stops. After a second he approaches.

LUCAS: Bonjour.

NAOMI: Bonjour.

LUCAS: Qu'est ce que je peux vous servir?

NAOMI: (in a bad French accent) Café s'il vous plait.

LUCAS: Avec du lait?

NAOMI: Lait? Oh no, merci. Noir.

LUCAS bows his head and slowly leaves.

CUT TO:

NAOMI’s coffee is almost finished and she runs her finger around its rim. LUCAS watches her as he clears things from the other tables, sorts another customer’s bill, then delays as he makes his way back inside.

NAOMI turns at the sound of children’s laughter. A boy chases a screeching girl round the corner of the street. When NAOMI turns back LUCAS is sitting in front of her. She looks around confused before settling her gaze on him.

NAOMI: Erm, puis-je, uh, vous aider?

LUCAS: (In a natural english accent) What’s your name?

NAOMI: (giving a huff of laughter) So you speak English now?

LUCAS: Why? Did you think I was French?

NAOMI: Yes.

LUCAS: That’s good. Oh that’s great.

NAOMI: Should you be sitting down? While you work I mean.

LUCAS: My shift is over.

NAOMI: Well then you needn’t be here at all.

LUCAS: I like it here.

NAOMI: Right, you like it here.

LUCAS: Where are you from?

NAOMI: (Debating whether to engage) New York.

LUCAS: No, in England.

NAOMI: (After a beat) Dorset.

LUCAS: Stop. (He jabs at his chest) Somerset. That’s crazy, isn’t it?

NAOMI: Crazy.

Moment of silence. She notices but does not acknowledge him studying her.

LUCAS: Holiday?

NAOMI: Oh.

LUCAS: Are you?

NAOMI: What?

LUCAS: Here on holiday?

NAOMI: Sorry. I thought you were saying you were on holiday. Me? I’m not sure.

LUCAS: You’re not sure if you’re here on holiday?

NAOMI: I don’t know how long I’ll be here.

LUCAS: Well its beautiful. Lots to do. You shouldn’t leave too soon.

NAOMI: I’ll keep that in mind.

NAOMI counts some euros out of her purse and leaves them on the coffee dish. Gathering her things, she begins walking away.

LUCAS: (Gets up, calls after her) Where to next?

NAOMI: (Glancing back) I’m going to see the Cathedral, maybe walk through the gardens.

LUCAS: Ah the Promenade des Arts! Good okay.

NAOMI gives a small smile.

LUCAS: It’s just you’re going in the wrong direction.

NAOMI slows to a stop. She looks down at her map, turns it then turns around herself. LUCAS is still standing there.

LUCAS: I can show you.

CUT TO:

INT. THE INSIDE OF THE CATHEDRAL.

The two stroll round the cathedral’s interior. Walking next to the tray of candles LUCAS drags his finger through a flame. He snatches his hand away and jogs a few steps to catch up with NAOMI.

LUCAS: Each of these ten chapels are dedicated to Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows.

NAOMI: They’re gorgeous.

LUCAS: Just wait until you see the one of Saint Rosalia. Whoever painted it really butchered that poor face.

Passing by, an old male tourist shushes them and frowns. LUCAS pulls a face once he moves on and prompts NAOMI to cover up a small laugh. LUCAS grins.

NAOMI: (Walking ahead a little) So what about you then?

LUCAS: What about me?

NAOMI: The continent? France? What brought you here?

LUCAS: (Looking at her) The women.

NAOMI laughs

LUCAS: My grandparents. They own a house, a little north of here. In Coaraze. (Pause) When I left university-

NAOMI: You’re a graduate?

LUCAS: Ah, no. I never finished. Left a week after my twentieth birthday. I’ve been here five months.

NAOMI: Oh you’re young.

LUCAS: Irresistibly young?

NAOMI: (Thinking) Haven’t-experienced-life young.

LUCAS: (Laughs) Oh and I suppose you have? What, you’re married? Got a doctorate? Maybe you’ve sailed round the whole world twice already? Experience doesn’t have one thing to do with age lady.

NAOMI holds his eye contact for a breath. She flashes a smile as she fans her face with her paper map.

NAOMI: Lady? Okay, now I feel old.

LUCAS laughs. The tension breaks. They head towards the exit.

They enter a comfortable quiet as they make their way out the cathedral doors and into the sun, now lower in the sky. They walk, Lucas one step in front, down a narrow street. NAOMI rummages for her phone, looks at it for a moment, then drops it in her bag. She returns her attention to LUCAS who is looking up at where the tops of the buildings meet the sky.

NAOMI: What do you do then?

LUCAS: Work, at the café. Look after the house. My grandparents aren’t around much out of season.

NAOMI: That must be lonely.

LUCAS: Sometimes I suppose. (PAUSE) I think maybe you’d know what that’s like.

NAOMI: Oh, you think so?

LUCAS: Just that you, you seem…

NAOMI: (TESTING) What is it you think you see when you look at me?

LUCAS smiles fondly.

NAOMI: You don’t know me.

LUCAS: I know you interest me. But yes that is true. I don’t know you, nor you me. We have all evening to change that.

CUT TO:

EXT. PROMMENADE DES ARTS – EVENING

The two walk through the Gardens. They stop by a wall that looks over the rooftops of the Old Town and the ocean beyond it. LUCAS begins dancing an exaggerated waltz. NAOMI laughs and he leads her in with a hand on her waist. She lets her chest rest against his.

CUT TO:

EXT. AN EMPTY STREET - LATE EVENING.

The temperature has dropped a few degrees but the air is still thick. Lucas holds a finger up, signalling for Naomi to wait. He crosses the street and goes into a nearby shop. Minutes later he tears out, holding a bottle. He grabs Naomi by the hand as they race down the street and off into an alleyway.

NAOMI: (Out of breath) Oh my god. Oh my god. What did you do?

LUCAS: (holding up the bottle) Cognac?

NAOMI: Did we just shoplift?

LUCAS: Would it make you feel alive if I said yes? (searching her eyes before whispering) I paid. I even him let him keep the change.

NAOMI: (beat) You are a mean, mean person.

She hits him on the arm. He pretends to be hurt, flinching and laughing. He starts running again.

NAOMI: Come back!

LUCAS: Let’s go to the ocean!

CUT TO:

EXT. THE BEACH PROMMENADE

Walking along the seafront LUCAS takes small sips of the cognac, looking out at the water. NAOMI smokes and looks at Lucas. She taps his wrist and motions for him to hand her the bottle. They walk a little further.

NAOMI: I left too.

LUCAS looks at her. He looks at a strand of her hair that has crossed her parting. He fixes it then fixes his eyes on hers.

NAOMI: When I came out here, it was to leave something behind.

LUCAS: You escaped.

NAOMI: I escaped.

LUCAS: That’s very brave.

NAOMI: I think it might be the opposite of brave. (Pause) I left my job last spring. After a while in that house I realised I couldn’t stay where I was. I wasn’t ready to go back to England. (pause) I was unhappy. Thought I’d try somewhere hot.

LUCAS: I’m sorry.

NAOMI: I don’t want you to be sorry.

LUCAS: Still, I am.

They look into each other.

LUCAS: You make me nervous.

NAOMI: Funny, you make me calm.

They have stopped walking.

NAOMI: I’m staying near the Port.

CUT TO:

INT. AN APARTMENT BUILDING

NAOMI unlocks the door and makes her way inside. LUCAS is for the first time hesitant in entering her space. Placing her belongings down NAOMI makes her way into the kitchen. Turning from the cabinet with two glasses she finds LUCAS leant against the wall on the other side of the room. The two stare at each other for several moments. LUCAS begins slowly walking towards her. He has one hand on her hip before NAOMI’s phone starts ringing. She goes to her bag, pulls out her phone and rejects the call.

LUCAS: (following the break in tension, crosses to the sofa) Someone important?

NAOMI: (with her back to him)No. I’m not sure anymore.

Lucas: Okay. Come over here then. I can’t think with you over there.

NAOMI walks over to the sofa and sits. Their arms line up on the back cushion. LUCAS stares at where their fingers nearly touch.

LUCAS: Though I’m not sure this is any better.

NAOMI smiles.

CUT TO:

The bottle of cognac is half empty. A bottle of red wine is more than half empty. NAOMI and LUCAS sit closer than before.

NAOMI: What other languages do you know?

LUCAS: (Slowly considering the bumps of her knuckles under his fingers)

Te amo sin saber como… ni cuándo… ni de donde.

NAOMI: Neruda.

LUCAS: Sonnet seventeen. Do you know its translation? You understood what I said?

NAOMI: (Turns head away to sip from her glass) I know Neruda. I don’t know Spanish.

LUCAS: You know what I said.

NAOMI: Stop it.

Lucas: Why?

Naomi: You know why. Because you don’t mean what you say, you’re being ridiculous.

LUCAS: Maybe it’s you who’s being ridiculous.

NAOMI: Don’t act like a child.

Before LUCAS can answer NAOMI’s phone rings again. This time, she walks over to it sat on the table. She watches the display as it rings out. She places it down. LUCAS stands and approaches her.

LUCAS: Why not?

NAOMI: What?

LUCAS: Why couldn’t I love you?

NAOMI: Stop it Lucas, let’s just move on from this.

LUCAS takes a gulp of wine, places the glass down and moves towards her.

LUCAS: Maybe you’re right, I don’t love you. There is nothing here at all. (Places her hand to his chest) I feel nothing when your hand on my chest feels like my hand also.

NAOMI: You’re quoting him again.

LUCAS: So what if I am.

NAOMI: So be original.

LUCAS kisses her

INT. BEDROOM OF NAOMI’S APARTMENT - MORNING

NAOMI wakes. She watches light cut through the blinds and onto LUCAS’s cheek. An empty expression passes over her features. She closes her eyes. Hearing a ringing from the other room she realises what woke her. She quietly moves out of bed and into the other room before picking up the phone.

NAOMI: Julian. (muffled male voice is heard) Yes I know I’m sorry. I’m- I don’t know- calm down. (takes a breath) I don’t know when I’ll be back. I told you when I left I wouldn’t. (listens) There are a lot more things I need to sort through here. (voice is louder) No, I don’t know how long. Please, can you just give me some time. (she responds with affirmatives as the voice gets slowly calmer) Jules I’ve got to go now (listens) Yes I promise (pause) you too.

NAOMI lets the phone bounce onto a sofa cushion and veer towards the crack. She drags her fingers through her hair. As she walks back towards the bedroom she snags a cardigan off a nearby chair and puts it on. Pushing the bedroom door open wider she sees LUCAS sat up, swathed in bed sheets. His eyes are glassy and vacant with understanding. She stands leaning at the doorway wrapping the cardigan around herself. They stare at each other for a long moment before he casts his eyes downwards. They see too much pity in each other’s gaze, a guarded apology in her step towards him. She cards a hand through his hair and he closes his eyes. She moves away and Lucas grabs a hold of her hand as it drops. Removing herself NAOMI takes a pack of cigarettes from the dresser, walks through to the balcony and shuts the door behind her.

CRITICAL

My script is a response, in part, to the writing practices and theories of Ernest Hemingway and Gabriel Josipovici that we have studied throughout this module. Through the use of concise dialogue and action, in the absence of detail and description, I intend to reveal more realistically the emotions and intentions of my characters.

Josipovici criticised excessive descriptions in writing, asserting that they get ‘in between us and anything meaningful.’[1] The belief is that these detailed descriptions push a reader away and into an awareness that they are being sold a story. He referred to the ‘dead words’ functioning only to ‘make visible to our imagination what the eye instantly catches.’ His argument is narrow but applicable to my writing inspiration and style. Translated to screenplay, I was working with a medium that already relies heavily on accompanying visuals so, to reflect the practice, my intention was to strip back the lengthy descriptions even further. Using minimal adjectives and adverbs, I committed to having every description of scenery, character or action have a purpose and assist the progression of my story; to avoid ‘dead words.’ This minimalism that Josipovici describes is the very thing that drew me to Hemingway’s work. Characterized by extreme sparseness and simplicity, his bare style has the effect of sharpening the focus of the writing. Initial reading of Hemingway’s work, it appears that not a lot transpires in regards to plot whilst in reality the sparse action makes room for you to see character dynamics and encourages you to draw on emotional insight to realise a lot is being said. I wanted to emulate a story that presents as an unassuming peak into two lives crossing paths but actually exposes the important subtleties of human behaviour.

Primarily my piece is focused on this growing relationship between my two characters, not the scenery which surrounds them, that may detract from their interactions. When writing direction or scene descriptors, I wanted only to detail things which would offer explanations or highlight important motifs. Hemingway’s Hills like White elephants, uses the setting of a train station to represent a junction in the journeys of its two characters and a tension is created with the train’s impending arrival. While scenery offers a lot of symbolism in Hemingway’s short story, I wanted my play to express atmosphere but not one specific location. I chose to pick out small details that would help connect and aid parts of the story. For example, the repeated appearance of the phone, gives it significance and prompts questions that are then revealed in the final scene when Naomi finally picks up. The phone is an interruption and a tether that stops her from being completely removed from the life she wants to escape. An earlier direction sees Naomi watching the children laughing as the boy chases a ‘screeching girl’. This at first seems a distraction from the plot line but offers a metaphor for the chase that is going to commence between Naomi and Lucas directly afterwards.

A further example of symbolism exists as part of the heat theme and imagery that reoccurs throughout the play. The description of Lucas touching a flame, burning himself then running to catch Naomi illustrates a parallel to the wider plot. I wanted to include small things to warn ahead the desire and pain that was going to follow for these characters. Heat and passion remain in the background of the play. I was inspired by my favourite Hemingway novel The sun also rises: Fiesta, in which tensions rise with temperature. I set my place in the South of France, placing two British characters in a foreign country. The idea of the ocean and sun as an escape is a trope linked to travelling and a desire for freedom. This desire manifests itself between Lucas and Naomi as they indulge in haste temptations. The quick progression from meeting to affair was something I struggled to pace but I used to my advantage the setting as an environment for reckless behavior. I wanted to illustrate, as Hemingway seems to acknowledge in his work, that something happens to your mind and behavior when you’re in motion or in foreign countries away from your comfortable. I found the freedom of a screenplay allows for sudden shifts in location and time. This fragmented style allowed me to contain the timeline of one day into a ten-page script. I did not want to be dependent on one location to reflect the lives of the characters. Instead the unfixed space they possess highlights the removal from normal and shift towards reckless abandon. The montage of moving from place to place was inspired by similar sequences in films as well as the moving narrative and setting in Hemingway’s Fiesta. It demonstrates a freedom and hopefully evokes a dreamlike effect. The jumps and unfinished conversations have the effect of breaking up the lineage of their story to indicate a frantic pace.

By committing to a fragmented structure I feel that it allows to keep somethings from being revealed. This is a step towards the realistic as human behavior is characterized by secrecy and unspoken words. My play’s style is stilted and enigmatic. I wanted to maintain a level of mystery, where the characters themselves are also left figuring things out. There is so much unknown and unexpressed in the use of bare dialogue and jumps in time. I want a reader to feel immersed in the scene without knowing everything that is going on or having it made explicit for them. I did not want to alienate audiences with dialogue that is too heavy. In Hills like White Elephants, the two characters’ exchange little more than a sentence at a time during their continuous back-and-forth dialogue. This is the type of economic dialogue I am comfortable with and believe to be most effective in racking up tensions and holding the reader’s attention. The starting point for my scripts is always dialogue and I find that my character’s start talking before I know what the play is about.

Hemingway’s work heavily fits into a genre of post war literature, wherein he demonstrates a reluctance to inflate or over reveal. Maintaining parts of the character and story that cannot be accessed offers the realist depiction of human existence. The disparity between thought and speech is also something I have taken from the tone and realism in Hemingway’s work. Providing only glimpses into the lives and thoughts of your characters maintains a truth to your work. William Faulkner used blunt descriptors much like Hemmingway, wherein the omission of crucial details, such as the repeated ‘hitting’ in Faulkner’s Sound and Fury referring to baseball, leave the reader somewhat in the dark for moments throughout the text.

Cyclical repetition and dialogue is something used by Hemingway in Hills like White Elephants, for example ‘you’ve got to realize’, ‘I realize’, ‘you’ve got to realize.’ It creates friction and atmosphere of intensity. The dialogue between my characters include many repeated lines either by one or between them both. For example, ‘I like it here’ and ‘right, you like it here.’ This aids the stilted awkwardness and tension of their first. It also, hopefully, demonstrates a shared sense of humour and a dialogue that is very responsive to one another as though they remain stuck in conversation to preserve every moment of heat or apprehension. Reoccurring phrases, along with economic dialogue, highlight how little is said whilst adding weight to the words that are.

As someone who greatly enjoyed Hemingway’s writing style, I was initially determined to use this opportunity to his emulate prose. What I found was a weak spot in my creative process as I found the prospect intimidating and slow. It became apparent that my strength lay with script and once I accepted this revelation the process became more natural and dynamic. I fortunately found that his bare prose almost begins to take on the shape of a script as it follows characters and heightens the significance of every interaction and word of dialogue over description. His stripped back narration provides a cinematic vision. The translation, characterised by inspiration more than imitation, came from maintaining the bare style and economic dialogue.

Writing in script removes any one character’s perspective or narration but equally does not provide a third person omniscient narrator to assist the reader. Instead the reader or audience must provide their own narration. I took inspiration from Josipovici whose narrative and dialogue is void of judgement. I wanted to remove myself as narrator because I think it lets my characters come to life and build their own dimension. Audience is left room to create worlds for themselves, before being then represented on screen or stage. Mostly importantly the focus remains on the dynamics between characters which is not tainted by over exposure.

I want the play to invoke a feeling lowered inhibitions and a window of time shrouded in desire and escapism. It should create atmosphere, setting and intention without explicit descriptions of emotions expressed. They should be read in the silences, the proxemics and the dialogue.

#creative writing #script #short film

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recycledmoviecostumes · 3 years

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Goodness do I have a treat for all of you today. Larry McQueen, owner of The Collection has sent me a lovely sighting filled with detailed information. Because the detail is frankly incredible, I decided not to edit it and present Larry’s notes in full below:

In 1936, Travis Banton, head designer at Paramount Studios, began work on the last film he would design for his favorite clotheshorse, Marlene Dietrich. The duo had worked closely together on all her films at Paramount and created the “Dietrich style”-- a look of lavish, smoldering, hard-edged sophistication that was instrumental in creating the Dietrich legend.

Dietrich had one final film to complete her contract at Paramount and was cast in a typical Dietrich vehicle Angel, a sophisticated Lubitsch melodrama with her in the role of an ignored wife of means who has an affair with her husband’s friend. Banton designed the most opulent dress he had ever created for the star for the under-five-minute opera sequence and preceding scenes in the film. The ensemble was to become known as the “Faberge” gown and consisted of a fitted long-sleeve bodice with peplum, a matching long skirt with train and a six foot stole bordered with sable. The fabric was solidly embroidered with gold beads, pearls, rhinestones, gold bullion, gold sequins and faux ruby and emerald stones in geometric designs. According to W. Robert Levine in his book “In A Glamorous Fashion,” the costume was cost-listed on the wardrobe records at $8,000.00, an exorbitant price in the post-depression era and a price that would be over $100,000.00 by today’s standards. The expense must have caused stirrings in Paramount’s upper management in a time when the government was asking the studios to scale back the unnecessary lavishness in costume design. Banton himself once said it was the most expensive gown he had ever designed.

The ensemble is given credit in many film costume books as the most spectacular gown ever created. Diana Vreeland, one-time curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art said of the costume in the book “Hollywood Costume– Glamour! Glitter! Romance!” “When I think of detail, I think of Travis Banton’s marvelous beaded dress for Marlene Dietrich in Angel—like a million grains of golden caviar. That is one of the most beautiful dresses ever…”. Margaret J. Bailey in her book Those Glorious Glamour Years describes the dress “It was simple in lines, of Persian design, and looked like a piece of woven jewelry…” and “… caused no little trauma on the set when producers refused to give it to Dietrich for her private wardrobe.”

Dietrich had loved the gown and asked the studio if she could keep it. It is said she was so angry of being refused by the company she help save, she stormed off the set. The incident no doubt added to her disharmonious departure from the studio. She left the studio and did not return until a decade later. Acquiring gowns and props from her films- by whatever means- was a general practice of Ms. Dietrich. After her death, The German Film Archive Foundation (die Stiftung Deutsche Kinemathek) and The Berlin Film Museum acquired her estate in 1993, which consisted of five different storehouses in Europe and the USA. In the collection were thousands of items from her career including fifty of her most famous film gowns. Her daughter, Maria Riva, once told the curator of the Frankfurt Film Museum, her mother was always in constant fear the studios would someday try to take back her collection and had kept the fact of its existence well hidden.

Paramount, however, retained the piece and began to put it to use. Re-using costumes was a common practice by studios to maintain an opulent look to secondary and background characters without the expense of making new ones. It is unknown exactly how many films the Dietrich gown was used in, but from photos found, it is obvious it was put to work and went through many transformations in the process. Mary Astor wore it, without the stole on the set of Midnight, 1939. The front was reworked and worn by Rose Hobart in the film A Night at Earl Carrolls, 1940. It was used in publicity photos as in that of Loraine Day circa 1944. With the sleeves removed, the stole without the fur was added to the front of the bodice as draping, it was worn by Felicia Atkins in The Errand Boy, 1961. The stole was cut in half to be used as a turban and worn with a sleeveless altered bodice by a model in A New Kind of Love, 1963. In 1974, the bodice was put back together and used by Diana Vreeland in the MET exhibition of films fashion and in 1985, the gown and stole was returned to its original configuration and worn by Barbara Hershey in the TV movie My Wicked Wicked Ways.

With all the different uses, the pieces took a beating. Many of the “re-workings” were fast and crude and some of the attempts to repair the gown involved covering damaged areas with large gold sequins. One previous ‘restoration’ involved applying glue to areas and pushing the beads back together and letting it harden. The fine chiffon backing was weak and starting to split and the patterns were separating. The costume was so fragile, it could never be worn again, but it is amazing the pieces stayed together.

In December of 1990, Paramount put the gown up for auction at Christies New York as part a larger collection of ‘star wardrobe.’ Larry McQueen and his late business partner, Bill Thomas, who were respected experts in the field of film costumes and had compiled one of the finest collections of the medium under the name “The Collection,” were retained to help inventory, authenticate and price the collection and were overwhelmed to see, what they believed to be, the most exquisite film costume ever created. They were successful in purchasing it for a total cost of approximately $23,000.00, one of the highest prices at the auction. As excited as they were to own the gown, the reality of its condition soon set in. Due to the age of the garment, poor storage and multiple alterations, it could never be dressed on a mannequin because it would not support its own extreme weight.

In 1999, four years after Bill Thomas died, Larry McQueen began the process of restoring the costume. Museum experts in preservation and restoration were consulted and much debate occurred as to whether the integrity of the gown- however poor that integrity was- should be tampered with. It was finally decided by Mr. McQueen that instead of leaving it as it was- a box of un-showable beads- the ensemble should be restored. Getson/Eastern Embroidery, who was then owned by Annie Dernderian, was approached with working on the gown. The firm had worked on the original costume and luckily had many of the beads, sequins and stones used on the original construction.

But, restoration of the garment proved far more difficult than planned. Even though the gown had only taken weeks to create, it would take years to restore. Every inch of the beadwork would have to be attached to new chiffon backing and the patterns pulled into shape and lightly tacked. Then the patterns had to be permanently hand stitched, replacing any missing stones or beads. Previous poor repairs would have to be removed. Missing areas or areas that had been glued would have to be replaced. Many of the original silk threads that attached the beads were breaking and would have to be reinforced with new silk thread. The stole, which had been cut in half and then stacked on top of its self and re-sewn, had to be taken apart, attached to a new backing and the beading attached and corrected. Photographs of Dietrich wearing the costume were enlarged to determine what was an original pattern and what had been changed. Luckily, the patterns did repeat themselves, so where a pattern was missing, a template of an existing pattern was made to re-create the missing one. The task would involve going inch by inch and would involve thousands of hours and great expense. But, determined to see the gown restored, Larry McQueen had the work begun.

The gown could not be taken apart and beaded flat as it was originally constructed, so a special frame with a sling had to be constructed to allow access to the inside of the garment to work from the front and the back of the fabric. Beads and sequins that had to be removed were sorted and reattached in to same location if possible. Only a four-inch area could be worked on at one time and each area was photographed before and after to document the work done. The project was daunting.

The entire fabric of the costume is composed of repeating geometric shapes somewhat like a paisley pattern. Each shape is outlined with small pearls or faceted rhinestones. Beads, pearls or sequins in different combinations fill the center portions of the design. Throughout, are patterns that contain a small grid work of bullion threading and each square filled with small pearls, sequins or a combination of sequins and gold beads. The background is of solid gold rocaille beads and the gown is sporadically studded with emerald and red glass beads. Literally millions of beads were used to create the fabric of the ensemble.

After one year, only the bodice was approaching completion, most of the work done by Annie Denderian. But the expense was mounting and it was becoming impossible to find qualified people who had the patience and time to spend on the garment. Mr. McQueen decided that if the costume was to be completed, he would have to take over the bulk of the hands-on restoration. Having the background and more importantly the motivation to see the gown completed, he was mentored by Ms. Denderian, learning and perfecting the techniques to painstakingly re-attach the patterns and began work on the dress. Almost one year to the date of beginning the work- working faithfully five to eight hours a day- the skirt and the stole were completed. To add strength, bias tape reinforcing and a new silk chiffon lining was added by the costume house of John David Ridge and the stole was re-bordered by using existing sable by Judith Moss at LA Fur Center.

McQueen stated that he probably would have reconsidered restoring the gown had he know the time, patience and expense it was going to take, but then quickly adds that he would have done it anyway. It was just too important. In working that closely with the piece, McQueen was amazed how in touch you get with the people who originally created the garment (a process difficult to understand unless you have restored someone else’s creation). You could tell when someone was having a bad day and cutting corners. You could tell when someone was struck with genius. You could see the differences in workmanship and technique between the various beaders. You could see the time spent on details in areas that no one would ever see. You become very close to the garment and understand it.

The gown is truly a testament to the artistry of early Hollywood. Mr. McQueen is confident the care, attention and over 3000 hours spent in its restoration would make its original creators proud. He hopes that if he leaves any legacy to the field of film costumes, one of his main accomplishments will be the “Faberge gown” survives in the splendor it was originally created and will be shown and appreciated for generations to come.

Costume Credit: Photos, copy and all the above incredible info provided by The Collection of Motion Picture Costume Design: Larry McQueen

E-mail Submissions: [email protected]

Follow: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest

Note: If you’ve not checked out Larry McQueen’s The Collection, I highly suggest you do so. It’s incredible!

#Marlene Dietrich #travis banton #mary astor #larry mcqueen #the collection #costume drama #costumes #period drama #fallen angel #midnight #a new kind of love #the errand boy #my wicked wicked ways

2K notes · View notes

venusiangguk · 3 years

Note

may we see the fight tae oc scene pls pls please!!! u can delete later🤔🤔🤔🤔😳😳😳😳 i’m really curious. i mean ofc u don’t have to. still 😧🙃

idealizations concerning real life relations: deleted scene

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / icrlr!couple

>>genre: fwb, angst, rated PG

>>word count: 2.5k

>>warnings: alcohol, implied smut

>>notes: this is a deleted scene from icrlr, that i omitted simply because of the length of the final fic!! feel free to skip or ignore, it doesn't change anything, but since u guys are curious about it, i'll post it as a lil ty for helping me hit that milestone <3 it takes place after the tattoo party scene, and before the lecture scene.

this does NOT provide an alternative ending.

>>summary: taehyung tries to make you see things for what they really are, but it's hard to see through the rose colored glasses.

Winter break has been long awaited and it is finally, finally here. The snow has coated the ground thick, making the town look like a winter wonderland. The air is sharp and cold but not to a miserable extent. Just chilly enough to bundle up, to hold a hand a little tighter and soak up their warmth.

Your favorite season is fall, but the later months are a close second. You love seeing the way everyone’s faces get red when snow flurries come down to kiss their nose and cheeks. Love the way pom poms bounce atop little hats as children play and have snowball fights. Winter is surprisingly one of the warmest, sweetest times of the year. Like the hot coco Jeongguk has been swapping your regular macchiato with lately.

There’s a greatly anticipated party tonight- a mashup of Taehyung’s birthday and New Year’s Eve. Anticipated for the simple fact that said birthday boy has steadily been ignoring you for weeks, and tonight was a night where he couldn’t evade your attempts of reconciliation. He hasn’t returned a single call or even sent a text back. You can’t even be mad at him really, you know it’s justified. You know you fucked up. The coffee date you had with Yoongi last week let you know what you did.

Over an iced coffee, you learned that you had unintentionally skipped out on your best friend's Winter Showcase. The important one that he mentioned multiple times. The one you promised to attend no matter what.

It wasn’t on purpose; you wanted to go, to support him. But you just got caught up. In life, in school, in Jeongguk. It happens.

When Yoongi asked you why you had missed it, when he told you how hurt Taehyung was by your absence, your heart dropped, sank deep within your chest as your mouth fell open before closing, a small pursed frown on your lips. You didn’t have a good excuse. You went to get tattoos with Jeongguk and then to a party where you fucked him, and then home after that? You were too tired to make it? You just simply forgot? Those excuses weren’t good enough for you and you knew they wouldn’t be good enough for Taehyung.

Whereas Yoongi was okay with distance, long periods in between hanging out and talking, Taehyung wasn’t. He was the kind of friend that needed support, reassurance that you cared. He liked quality time and hangs outs that were planned ahead so he could look forward to them. He was looking forward to you being at his showcase.

The party is packed, even more so than usual. Students, drop-outs, alumni, and randoms alike, all congregate to bring in the new year, to celebrate the end of finals, and a certain art majors birthday. Bodies are on bodies, music is loud and deafening. Cups, bottles, and small baggies litter the floor and the smell of weed is nauseating.

Jeongguk’s hand in yours is sweet, though. Enough to ebb the distaste in your mouth as you watch the stereotypical disaster that is a college party.

“I’m going to go find the drinks, okay?” you lie, squeezing Jeongguk’s hand lightly.

He squeezes back, kisses the side of your head as he says, “Bring me one back too?”

You nod, and slip out of his view. Scanning the crowd until you see a familiar face.

Jimin is laughing, red cup in his hand, eyes curled and happy. He’s sitting on the arm of a couch, legs swinging as he laughs with a group of people. He takes a drink from his cup and let’s his eyes roam the room like he’s looking for someone.

The way his face changes when he sees you approaching is like a punch in the gut. It goes from happy, and carefree to stony- only a small, irritated, close-lipped smile on his face. Eyes harsh and cold, no longer holding the mirth they were just seconds ago. He says nothing when you step in front of him, he just looks you over like he’s bored and waiting for you to get on with it so he can be done with it.

You shift on your feet under his scrutiny. “Where’s Tae?” you ask.

Jimin narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head. “Now you want to know where he is? Haven’t been concerned with his whereabouts for months. Definitely weren’t worried about it last week.”

You wince but carry on swiftly. “Listen, I know I fucked up. I’m here to apologize.” You look at him expectantly, but he holds his ground. When he doesn’t falter, you resort to begging, “Please, Jimin. He’s my best friend… I miss him.”

You must look pitiful, because Jimin’s indifferent facade fades, and he clicks his tongue like he’s annoyed at himself for giving into you. “He’s getting us drinks in the kitchen.”

A smile takes over your face as you rush out a ‘thank you’, quickly turning on your heel to head in the opposite direction, before Jimin calls after you.

“Yeah?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“If he’s your best friend, maybe treat him like it, yeah?”

You continue to the kitchen without replying, and you can’t help the little simmer of annoyance that bubbles in your chest. Taehyung has been your best friend for years. And even though Jimin had a point, who was he to tell you anything about yours and Taehyung’s friendship?

Before the thought can fester, however, you see the boy you came looking for, two bottles of vodka in his hand like he’s trying to decide which to use. You see the little party hat atop his shaggy hair before anything else and your heart aches a little. You really did miss him. He lets out a small annoyed sound, and knowing him, he’s probably trying to figure out which has the highest alcohol percentage. You come up next to him, and say his name gently. He jumps, but when he realizes it’s you, the ghost of a smile curls on his lips like he’s happy to see you.

Until it’s replaced with resentment just as quickly. His sharp eyes squint at you before turning back to the bottles in his hands, scowl still in place.

“So you decided you could pencil me in between getting your heart toyed with and your back blown out?” He gives you a side glance and sees how your jaw drops in surprise. He carries on, unbothered. “Or did this just work out because it coincides with New Year’s and because he was invited? Only because he’s Jimin’s friend might I add.”

“Tae-” you try, doing your best to keep the hurt whine out of your tone.

“Save it, __. I don’t want to hear the excuses you have. Just-” he looks at you again, and you think that maybe he softens when he sees your crestfallen features. He sighs like he’s tired. “Just leave me alone. Just for a bit, okay? I’ll get over it eventually,” he finishes, finally deciding on the vodka he wants.

You know his request isn't unreasonable. But it’s already been so long that the distance in your friendship has been eating away at it, that you’re scared ‘eventually’ might take too long and by the time he comes around, there won’t be much of a friendship left. That the damage done, will be irreparable.

“Tae… It’s already been months, can’t we-”

Like night and day, the softness that you were able to pull out of him is immediately replaced with that resentment and anger you were met with when you first stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he seethes, strong brows furrowed. “And whose fault is that?”

His words are sharp and the sting from them makes you take a step back. That is, until you feel anger of your own creep up your throat like venom. “You’re one to talk, Taehyung. You could have reached out to me, too. You’re no better than me when you’re in a relationship.”

He groans, gives an exasperated laugh before shrugging. “You know what? Maybe I am just as bad as you, but at least I’m actually in a relationship,” he spits, “You’re just fucking someone that doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

You know he’s hurt because of the distance. That he doesn’t intend to be so mean. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, and it doesn’t stop the angry tears from pooling in your eyes.

And although you’re angry, almost shaking with rage at the feeling of being cornered and blamed, your heart aches at hearing his words.

Jimin, who started seeing Taehyung after you started seeing Jeongguk, had already made your friend official. Had given him the title, the commitment, the relationship that you had been patiently and understandingly waiting for with Jeongguk. The bitterness that bleeds into your heart makes you feel gross and ugly.

You know what they say; that labels are superficial and don’t mean that much. But when you don’t have them? It makes you wonder. If a label really isn’t that important, like everyone says, why is Jeongguk so reluctant to give one to you?

“Jimin’s your boyfriend?” you whisper.

Taehyung gives you a short nod. “Month and half ago. You would’ve known if you got your head out of Jeongguk’s ass.”

Almost like he was summoned, the topic of debate waltz into the room, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He nuzzles into your neck.

It’s instinctual now, the way your body responds to him. The way you melt into his chest like second-nature, how your hands settle over his like they are keeping them in place. How immediately in his presence you feel calmer; the panicky, hurt feeling you were experiencing moments ago vanishing as if it were just a fleeting thought and not something that’s always in the back of your head.

Not in a possessive, ‘I need him to be mine’ kind of way, though.

More like, ‘Why won’t he be mine?’

“Hi,” he murmurs into your neck.

“Hi, baby,” you respond softly, out of habit. The room shirks around you whenever he’s near. Makes you feel like you’re in your own bubble with him.

Jeongguk’s about to reply, ask where the drinks are, but then he hears an annoyed scoff sound in front of you both. Jeongguk bristles as he looks up and sees Taehyung taking a big swig from his cup.

“Uh- am I interrupting? Should I go?” he asks hesitantly, looking between you and your friend.

“No-” you say at the same time that Taehyung says, “Yes.”

You cringe, and turn in Jeongguk’s arms, hands resting on his chest. “Just give me a couple more minutes okay? I’ll bring the drinks.”

Jeongguk searches your eyes, before looking at Taehyung one last time before giving you a stern nod and a quick kiss.

You turn back to Taehyung, ready to apologize for Jeongguk’s interruption, when he talks over you.

“You’re pathetic,” he starts, and you roll your eyes with an irritated sigh before he continues, “but I know you love him. And that you can’t help it,” he shrugs. “But as your friend, I have to tell you that it’s not going to end well. You probably don’t even need me to tell you that. You probably already know and are choosing to ignore it for the sake of the delusions you’ve made up in your ‘pretty little head’.”

You pout at him quoting you, and your brows furrow. “He cares about me. And he’s Jimin’s best friend. He’s a good person, you don’t even know him,” you argue defensively. Though you know your arguments make little sense and are flimsy at best.

Taehyung frowns. Pauses like he’s thinking.

“I didn’t say he was a bad person, and maybe he does care about you in his own messed up way. But he doesn’t care about you in the way that you want him to.” His lips are still down turned when he speaks again.

“And the difference between him with you and him with Jimin is astronomical; it shouldn’t even be a comparison, but I will humor you,” he rubs a hand up and down his face like he’s tired. “The dynamic is completely different, for obvious reasons. For one, Jimin is a safe relationship. You are not. Jimin isn’t in love with him, Jimin isn’t sucking his dick, and Jimin doesn’t want things from Jeongguk that Jeongguk cannot give, or does not want to give,” he says with a raised brow as he takes a sip of his drink.

It seems that the anger has died down some between you both, a semi-civil conversation finally being had. You wrinkle your brows in confusion at him. “What are you talking about?”

He rolls his eyes. “Cmon __. Why do you think he hasn’t made you his girlfriend? Why do you think he literally has not been in a serious relationship since high school? Why do you think he never agrees to anything more than 2 months out?” He waits for you to answer but you just purse your lips stubbornly. “He’s scared. Dare I say terrified of commitment, and that’s exactly what you want from him right?”

You stay headstrong and quiet for a moment longer, ignoring his question in favor of asking one of your own when you finally do speak up. “If I’m so scary, why hasn’t he left?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Fuck if I know? Maybe he does care about you like you say he does. I don’t think so, but hey,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, like he is throwing in the figurative towel. “Maybe you’re right and maybe I‘m wrong. Or maybe there’s some fucked up codependency fermenting between you both when you copulate. I genuinely have no clue, and frankly, I don’t care to find out. Don’t text me until you come to your senses. And don’t get mad when I tell you ‘I told you so’.”

And with that, he turns and leaves you to make your own drinks. You hope the smile you give Jeongguk when you find him is believable.

That night when you go back to his place, you voice your concerns to him in between sweet, heated kisses that taste like hot cider. You tell him hesitantly how Taehyung voiced his concerns about Jeongguk not caring about you and Jeongguk got a little irritated, a little miffed as he unlatched his lips from your neck. He asked what Taehyung knew, how he even came to that conclusion when he’s not around you both.

He assured you with gentle touches and tender words that of course he cares about you. He reminded you that he always makes time for you, he always answers your calls and your texts, he takes you out every now and then, too. He asks you what you think and when you contemplate your answer, going over what he said, you can’t really argue with him. Even if an uneasy, dismal feeling settles in the pit of your tummy.

~~~

hellooo!! again, this is just a scene and part of the plot that i chose not to use because i felt like the fic was already so long. i wish that i had ended up including it tho, so i hope you enjoyed even though its nothing special <3 feel free to do the things if you liked it: like, comment, reblog, send an ask~~ love u, ty again for helping me reach that milestone <3

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 3 years

Text

The Glitch

I get the Broken Reality au is a haha funny joke but there’s been some legit great art for it and since Butterfly is over and I haven’t gotten into the groove of my other projects yet, I decided to try some flash fiction of my interpretations. Note that this is very small and informal; I used whatever idea came into my head over the course of an hour or so instead of the weeks of planning that go into my usual fics. This was an experiment for fun. But if people enjoy the concept, I may be tempted to expand on it.

Credit to @lollitree @moonpaw @gentrychild @owlf45 and @cyber-phobia (I’m sorry if I missed someone I lost track of how many people were involved in this mess).

Content working for reference to infant death.

Please enjoy!

The city shut down for a typhoon warning. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Dark clouds blocked the sun so much that by mid-morning it still looked like it never bothered coming up. And yet the humidity made it too hot for coffee. Inko didn’t know how to feel. Work would have been a good distraction. But she didn’t want any coworkers or clients to see if today got to be too much. And it was already shaping up to be. She caught herself making two plates of food for breakfast.

Inko sat alone in the kitchen. She couldn’t bring herself to finish her own plate. Sickness set in fast. The food had been cold for a long time before she summoned the strength to get up and throw it away. Then she stood over the open trash can a while, debating whether to try and hold it together, or just throw up and get it over with. She eventually managed to keep her stomach steady enough to go back to her bedroom. There was another trashcan in there anyway.

A sound stopped her. From her office. The distinct sound of something heavy falling onto the carpet. Right as she walked past the door.

Please not this again…

She opened the door with her eyes closed. Her mind conjured a familiar image. A bedroom full of books and hero posters. Bright colors and personal touches. A child’s room. Inko opened her eyes to her drab home office. Some of the older case file binders slipped off the pile again. She really needed to sort those into storage. Not today though. She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Inko walked faster than normal the rest of the way to her room. She doesn’t want to face the temptation to search for old toys she remembers storing in the empty closet. Or search the walls for scuff marks from action figures tossed into them she could always see even after the walls were painted. She hid her planner on a tall shelf and put the ladder away to make it that much harder to go through it over and over looking for doctors’ appointments and school events she knew were coming up. Finally reaching her bed brought no comfort.

Of course she knew today’s date by heart. She hadn’t put it on a calendar in the fourteen years since she used to look at it every day. Inko stuck her head under her pillows, as if they could block out the silent noise of her memories. Memories of before, the time even when she was by herself, she was never alone.

Fifteen years now, today. With a shuddering gasp, the tears finally came. Thunder crashed outside. It’s not fair! Why is it still this hard after this long? Phantom kicks in her belly joined the growing ice there.

The hardest part was she still felt like that sometimes. Like she wasn’t really alone. Inko didn’t believe in ghosts, but the lost of what could have been was more than haunting enough. She felt it watching her. Judging her. Waiting just long enough for her to settle down into a peaceful, content existence before it reared up to plague her heart all over again. Cliché hauntings like spooky faces in the mirror or blood coming out of the drains would have been preferable. Those would be generic enough not to remind her directly.

Rain started outside. Her phone lit up with a notification she ignored in time with a thunderclap. The storm was getting closer.

Maybe I should call Hisashi, the thought crossed her mind. Maybe he’s going through this too. She bit her lip bloody. Her frustrated memories weren’t in question like the others. Probably not though. I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

Hisashi had been stuck in the denial stage of grief, which often came off as him acting like he didn’t take hers seriously. Not a year, not even half a year looking back, after they came home from the hospital, he wanted to try again.

“We can’t let mourning hold us up forever,” he said. “And it’s not like we lost a once in a lifetime opportunity! We’ve got at least another twenty years to keep trying!”

But we did lose him! she had wanted to scream. Still did, years later. Why didn’t he understand? He was your loss too! Inko wanted for the next roll of thunder, then shouted.

“I don’t just want any baby! I want Izuku!”

The lights went out. The temperature rose five degrees instantly when the ceiling fan stopped going. The rain stopped.

Power outage. Inko sat up with a sniffle. Turns out the notification was a warning about roving blackouts. Of course. Oh well. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook tonight any-

Thunder boomed even louder than before, making her jump. Then another. Lightning flashed outside at the same time. It was right on top of her.

What? I thought the typhoon wasn’t supposed to make landfall until later toni-

Another crash. It vibrated through her bones. Then another. The lightning lit up her whole room. Except for a shadow on the wall. Inko jolted to look, holding her breath, and found only her own shadow in the next flash.

“I’m such an idiot…” She went for her phone again. For peace of mind, she decided to use her data to check if an evacuation order went out. Or any updates at all really, since the weather came so much faster than the news said. “Nothing,” she sighed annoyed. “I hate being alone for weather like this…”

A new notification pinged.

[Mom]

Inko blinked rapidly. The message remained. All of her insides turned inside out in an instant, and she started crying again. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? No one ever got a chance to call her that. She touched the note to open it, but nothing happened. No app or source was displayed. Nor did it go away after a few seconds like normal.

“Wha- What’s going on?” she wept. In a mix of sorrow and rage, she wound up to chunk the device across the room. But she froze.

Outside her window, floating against the pitch-black sky, were two small orbs. Perfectly circular and glowing. Watching her. She didn’t dare move.

Another ping. She looked without moving.

[I’m sorry]

“… What?”

For a moment, all the sounds in the world dropped out. They all came back at ounce.

Lights flickered. Both the ones inside and the lightning going outside. Multiple strikes laid on top of one another. No relief. Thunder pounded over and over like a drum solo. It shook the whole building. Inko ran into the closet away from the window. She slammed her hands over her eyes but it didn’t help. Her terrified cried were whispers to the screams of the storm.

A child’s scream. She heard it. Each flash of light came with a cry. The distinct sound of a little boy calling out in pain blended with unyielding nature. It came from every direction. Every hair on Inko’s arms stood up in fear. She felt the charge in the air. But she had to go out. Her baby was crying for help.

She burst from the closet into the living room. All the lights and appliances turned themselves on and off. The TV showed only static between its flashes. Something drew her too it. The storm was deafening. It pounded through her head like a heartbeat. The beats got faster. The static flashes started to look like a face. Her usual caution was abandoned as she fell to her knees and touched the screen. The snow cleared for a single instant. Just long enough to look like the blank eyes from the window. She felt the heartbeat there too.

Then it stopped. All of it. The noise and lights all went quiet and dark. The TV went completely cold in an instant. Inko, stunned, palmed over it looking for something. Anything. The pulse. Warmth. A burnt fuse or faulty wire. But nothing. The rain started again.

She pulled her hands back to her lap. Her heart was still racing and tears kept flowing down under her chin. She looked around. Everything in the living room and kitchen looked the same. No sign of the earthquake-like convolutions the whole appartement experienced only minutes ago. Inko combed the entire space for evidence. An object knocked off the shelf. A picture frame fallen from the wall. The notifications. Toys in the closet or scuffs in the wall. Still not a sign. She even stepped outside her door to check the sky. Only light rain and shattered thunder, just like the news said the day before.

There was only one thing out of place. Back in her bedroom, the bottom drawer of her nightstand hung open. Inko had to steal herself before approaching it. There were only two things in there: a little green blanket, and a picture of the ultrasound. The most recent one from her last appointment. The doctor said he was doing fine.

“Izuku…” she whispered to it in her hand.

She remembered the squealing little bundling being put in her arms for the first time. The first time he smiled at her. Teaching him to walk, then immediately launching into play. Him coming home with bruises and scrapes after the kids at school were mean to him, and crying in her arms. Then, him coming home with his first real friends in a long time. She made them all dinner. Katsudon. That was Izuku’s favorite.

Only she didn’t remember. The same way she didn’t really remember the toys and scuffs. Those were fantasies. Daydreams of what could have been. She just thought about them so often they felt like memories. Especially today. It was his birthday after all. They’d fade back into vague dreams by tomorrow. They always did.

And she would be left with reality. The silence. The cold, still little hand between her fingers. Soft cheeks without blush. Eyes that never opened. Clutching him too tight to her chest, knowing the second she let go he would be gone for real and it would all be over.

But it was never over. Inko went through this same torturous song and dance every year for fifteen now. All the guilt and dread would subside slowly over the next one, until it all came back at once. Just like this.

At least it’s done for now, she tried to reassure herself, climbing back into bed. It still wasn’t even noon yet. Plenty of time for another breakdown. Hopefully the next one won’t be, feel, as loud. She sighed heavily into her sheets. This sort of thing can’t be normal. I should really try therapy again.

Against her better judgement, she kept the blanket out, and clutched it to her chest. Static electricity pricked her fingers. With her other hand, she reached across the bed, and tried to imagine someone else there. Not Hisashi, never him anymore. Izuku. He was fifteen and happy, but the storm was making him nervous so he came to lay beside her. She remembered it like it was now. If she closed her eyes, she could feel his warm, soft skin, with a healthy, if a little anxious heartbeat just underneath. The mattress warped as he sighed.

“We’ll be okay. It’s just a little rough weather,” she promised.

“Okay, Mom,” Izuku answered quietly. “… I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I’ll start trying to get myself together tomorrow. For now, let me have this.

Izuku didn’t respond for a while. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Happy birthday.”

#midoriya inko #midoriya izuku #broken reality au #the glitch #mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #aconstantstateoffanfiction #april fools #the long con

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

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Day 11: Pinky Promise

"Is this real?"

Harry practically jumped out of his skin. He'd been sitting on the sofa in the eighth year common room, staring into the fire and trying to ward off the nightmares. He hadn't even heard anyone else walk into the room. "What?" he asked, looking over to see Draco Malfoy, of all people, standing there in his pajamas, face drawn and ashen.

"Is this real?" he repeated.

"Is what real?" Harry asked, looking around to see what he was talking about, unease creeping up his spine. Well, even more unease than he'd already been feeling from the nightmares.

"This," the other boy whispered, sounding terrified, as he gestured vaguely at everything.

And that Harry could understand, he knew what it was like to wake up and not be sure what was real and what wasn't. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, this is real."

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his right hand rubbing his left forearm.

A surge of pity rushed through Harry, he knew this year (the past couple, for that matter) had been hard for Malfoy. And honestly? He just didn't have the energy to hate him any more. "Yeah," he said softly.

Malfoy looked at him, "Do you swear?"

"Yes," Harry assured.

"Would you swear with a wizard's oath?"

Harry nodded at him.

"What's the muggle's version of a wizard's oath?" he asked suddenly. "That's something I wouldn't know," he muttered, more to himself than to Harry.

And in that moment, Harry's (sleep deprived) mind blanked and he blurted the only thing he could think of, "Pinky promise."

(Read more below the cut)

"What?" Malfoy asked blankly.

"A pinky promise," Harry repeated. "You can't break them. Here," he said, holding out a pinky to him. "You just take your pinky," he said, grasping Malfoy's hand and tugging it toward him, "and wrap it with mine."

Malfoy entwined his pinky with Harry's, looking carefully at where their hands were joined.

"I pinky promise that this is real," Harry said dutifully. Then he added, "You're okay," softly.

Malfoy looked up at that, his stormy grey eyes met Harry's and he let go of his finger like he'd been scalded. "I-" Malfoy started.

But Harry just shook his head and turned to look back at the fire, "It's alright. You don't have to apologize or feel embarrassed. Why do you think that I'm sitting here in front of the fire instead of sleeping in bed?" he asked wryly. "It's hard for me too."

Malfoy was silent for a few minutes and Harry let him be, he just stared ahead into the fire and waited. For what he wasn't quite sure.

"Can I sit with you?" Malfoy finally asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, glancing over at him.

Malfoy sat gingerly on the opposite end, tucking his bare feet under him and wrapping his arms around his thin torso.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked.

"A bit."

Harry scooched toward the middle of the couch and put the throw he'd been using over Malfoy's legs, too.

They were quiet for long moments before Harry asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." There was a brief pause, then Malfoy hesitantly asked, "Do you?"

"Godric, no."

Nodding, Malfoy slipped his hand across the few inches between them and entwined their pinkies once more. Then the two of them just sat there in the quiet, listening to the fire crackle and pop until the sun started to peak through the window. They returned to their beds and Harry tried not to think too much about what had just happened.

------------

It happened again the next night, and the night after that, and the night following that, and so on. Malfoy stopped even asking and Harry just started reaching out his pinky for him the moment the other boy entered the room.

Sometimes one of them would drift off while they were sitting together and wake with a start, and Harry for one, found it very reassuring to wake to Malfoy's pinky grounding him to the here and now. He wondered if Malfoy felt the same.

Nothing changed for a few weeks until one morning when he came down for breakfast and saw Malfoy sitting by himself. This wasn't unusual, but one look at the other boy and he knew something was off. Malfoy's face was even paler than usual, his shoulder length blonde hair covering up half his face as his fingers clenched and unclenched. He knew those signs, he knew what his body language meant, and so instead of heading over to sit with Ron and Hermione, he moved toward Malfoy.

He sat down across from him and Malfoy looked up, eyes wide, "What are you doing?"

"I pinky promise," Harry murmured and slid his hand across the table toward him, pinky extended.

Malfoy's hand shot out toward him like he was reaching for a lifeline and he wrapped his pinky around Harry's. Harry watched as he visibly relaxed, his shoulders lowering, and brow smoothing out. After a beat he looked up at Harry, "You didn't have to-"

"I know," Harry said, leaving his left pinky looped through Malfoy's right. "I don't mind." Malfoy opened his mouth to say something but Harry continued, "Could you pass the sausage?"

Malfoy's jaw clicked shut and he did as Harry asked. They sat in silence, eating their breakfast and drinking their coffee, fingers still linked.

-------------

Sitting together at meals became habitual, too.

Ron and Hermione moved to join them eventually. They'd asked Harry about it but he honestly didn't know what he was meant to say. He had no idea what he and Malfoy were doing, it just felt like the right thing to do and in some weird way it felt like Malfoy was the only one who understood him.

Having Ron and Hermione join them was completely surreal and Harry had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, Ron started talking first.

Harry had thought it would be weird to talk to Malfoy, and it was in the beginning, it was awkward and stilted and Harry had mentally cursed Ron Weasley for his extrovert nature. But after a few weeks the four of them managed to have what resembled normal conversations.

Malfoy's right pinky often remained wrapped in Harry's left and Hermione and Ron said nothing about it.

The next time it happened out of (what was becoming) the ordinary was in Defense Against the Dark Arts. They'd been practicing dueling when Malfoy's wand had clattered to the ground.

Harry's attention had been, admittedly, divided between his duel with Ron and Draco's duel with Dean before Draco let his wand fall from his shaking hand. Without a second thought, Harry disarmed Ron and sent a tidy little 'incarcerous' to bind his feet as he started moving toward Draco.

Draco was staring down at his shaking hands as Harry approached.

"Hey," he said softly, trying to draw Draco's attention, "Hey, look at me."

Draco looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Hey," Harry said again. "It's okay. You're okay." He offered his pinky to Draco. "This is real," he whispered.

Draco blinked at him and entwined their pinkies together. After a slow deep breath, he nodded once and released Harry so he could go back to working on his dueling.

-------------

It became a habit basically everywhere after that. Harry and Draco became all but inseparable, they started to learn to talk to one another. Harry enjoyed Draco's sharp, dry whit and Draco seemed to enjoy Harry's sarcastic, slightly dark sense of humor. They worked on projects together, started partnering up in classes, started bickering with each other when they disagreed, and even started teasing each other.

Harry had never set out with the intention to befriend Draco Malfoy, but there was certainly no denying it. They'd become rather good friends.

One night, things changed again. Harry awoke with a start, heart pounding against his rib cage. The curtains around his bed were drawn and for a moment he'd been trapped in his cupboard. For a moment, there'd been no way out and there was no one who cared about him.

He kicked off his blankets and struggled out of bed, escaping the room as quietly as he could so he didn't wake up his roommates. He stumbled down the stairs only to find that Draco was already up.

"Hey," Draco said softly, looking up from the book on his lap and lifting the blanket so Harry could settle in next to him.

Harry all but collapsed, pressing his side against Draco's and only then realizing that he was shaking.

"Hey," Draco said, reaching for Harry's finger, "Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

He was quiet for a moment, debating what he should say, before the thought popped out without permission. "Are you ever afraid that no one will ever love you?" Harry asked.

Draco's brow furrowed, "Am I personally? Yes. Should you be?" he asked. "No."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Because you're Harry Potter."

"But what if I wasn't?" Harry asked, looking over at him. "What if I wasn't the boy who lived? What if I hadn't killed Voldemort? What if I wasn't magical? What if I was just an eighteen year old kid, with no parents, and no prospects? Should I be worried then?"

"Well, setting aside all of those things that make up the reality that we live in, no. You still shouldn't be worried."

"Are you serious?" Harry asked with a huff.

"Yes," Draco replied, putting his marker in his book and setting it to the side so he could turn to look at Harry. "Of course I'm serious and if this were the old you talking to the old me, I'd think that you were fishing for compliments."

"But..."

Draco sighed, "But it's not the old me and I know now that you really don't see yourself clearly at all. Harry, you shouldn't be worried because you'd still be you. You'd still be funny, you'd still be observant when it suits you, you'd still be attractive, you'd still be kind. And most of all, you'd still be good," Draco said, voice soft and sincere. "You'd still be the person who sees trash on the ground outside and picks it up. You'd still be the person who cheers on his friends. You'd still be the person who saw their enemy hurting and reached out a hand to help."

Harry blinked at him. They'd never really talked about this and Harry wasn't sure he was ready to now.

"You are inherently good," Draco said. "You're petty as fuck sometimes and the amount of sass that can come out of your mouth is nearly lethal," he added, eyes sparkling, "But when it matters, you are good. You choose the right thing. You choose to do good."

"And that makes me loveable?"

"Yes. Easily," Draco replied. "It's very easy to love you."

Harry blinked at the casual way he said that. "It's," he cleared his throat, "It's easy to love you, too," he murmured.

"You don't have to say that. I know it's not true."

"It is true!" Harry exclaimed. "It's easy to love how hard working and clever you are. It's easy to love you for the way you've tried to fix hurts you've caused. To love and admire the way you came back when it would have been easier to leave. It's easy to admire the way you care for your family. You're really brave, Draco Malfoy, and I love that about you."

Draco tilted his head at Harry consideringly, "Do you mean that?"

"Yes, of course I do," Harry replied. "I'll even pinky promise that I am telling you the truth," he said, holding out his pinky.

Draco took it and said, "I love the way that you see me."

"The feeling is mutual," Harry replied and butterflies took off in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't quite sure why but then very suddenly, they were leaning toward each other. And Harry would never really be sure who made the first move, but then it didn't matter because he was kissing Draco, one hand cupping his face, the pinky on his other hand clasping tightly to Draco's.

They pulled back after a soft brush of their lips. "Was that okay?" Draco asked, his cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.

Harry tucked Draco's hair behind his ear and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone, "better than."

"You're sure?" the other boy asked, searching Harry's face.

"I pinky promise," Harry replied.

Day 10: The Beach | Day 12: Adrenaline

@saumzi Thanks so much for the prompt! I hope you enjoy it!

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #sorry this one got away from me and ended up being pretty long #drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #send me a one word prompt and i'll write you a ficlet #hogwarts 8th year #nightmares #dealing with ptsd #soft #falling in love #day 11 #pinky promise #thanks for the prompt!

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m0onjellies · 11 days

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I’m copying @chaotic-but-cute’s 30 days of intentionality challenge because lowkey I do want to try to be better at existing as a human especially approaching finals, and I’ve just finished day one

The things I’ve crossed down are stuff I’ve done, and commentary is in bold!!

goals

1. Health/hygiene:

Shower/do skincare/ brush and floss everyday. Did all of the above for the first time in months 😎😎

Exercise or just touch grass at least once or twice a week

2. Academics/Extracurriculars

For all of these, double the time on weekends

Practice piano for at least half an hour a day I sure hope I do this tmrw because I desperately need consistency in this

Spend at least 30 minutes doing homework at home.

1-1.5 hours a day at least on speech and debate work leading up to the tournament. After the tournament, replace this time with studying for finals. Dude I’m so mad abt forgetting this ugh

2-2.5 hours a day copying art history notes lowkey it was closer to 3 hours today which is fine tbh. I just started mannerism notes and have to take up to the start of baroque (roughly 17 pages). Hopefully I’ll be done by tomorrow!

Prep for finals for at least an hour a day (and 3-3.5 hours a day once I’m done with art history) I just didn’t ngl which is bad

Start this before 5. I and schedule with calendar(?) started at 7 👍 (I really shouldn’t have but eh)

Go to a coffee shop or a library or smth to study at least once a week for enrichment

3. Other personal goals

Read at least 5 pages/day of any book and 30 pages/day on weekends. I’ve realized it’s a lot easier to read when I get over myself and am willing to read the self indulgent “‘uninteleftual’” books I want to read because thinking will make my brain explode. I’m currently rereading the warrior cats series cuz it was a childhood favorite.

Spend a little bit of time (even if it’s just 10 minutes) researching activities I want to do in the future! I didn’t :/

Clean my room every week I started on it!!

Indulge in a little bit of whimsy and fun! Listen to music I like or draw or do something other than scroll and feel numb. I talked to my mom, idk if it counts but I’m counting it

Wear fun little outfits to school! (10 times this month). I wore a fun outfit but nobody saw it cuz it was too cold

Listen to music while waking up

All of my posts for this project thingy are under be under ares.txt and 30days.txt!

#ares.txt #30days.txt

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taeyongdoyoung · 3 years

Photo

summary: you have a crush on college student renjun so you make use of your best lamest flirting attempts and surprisingly they work?!

pairing: renjun x gn!reader

genre: college!au, romance, pure fluff

warnings: very lame jokes, mentions of a cruel prank in the past (someone asking out renjun as a joke, pls never do that to people!), lots of awkwardness & sweetness, a bit of swearing, reader has an obsession with renjun’s pretty hands

word count: 4.7k

It had been a while since you had a crush so strong you even had a hard time focusing in class. Usually, you were a very good student, diligently taking notes and participating when the professor asked questions. But that was until you saw Renjun for the first time.

It was like something possessed you and suddenly you couldn't think about anything else but his pretty, gentle face, his angelic voice and his lovely hands always drawing something in his notebook. It certainly didn't help much that you were seated right next to him during your shared lectures. It most certainly didn't help that you forgot all your vocabulary when you were in his immediate vicinity. Usually, your teachers and friends described you as well-spoken and eloquent, always knowing the right thing to say.

But that was, of course, until Renjun. All words disappeared from your poor brain whenever he was around. And it's not like you didn't want to talk to him, get to know him better. But you physically couldn't bring yourself to form a coherent sentence. You kept telling yourself it was just a silly crush and it would pass in time. But the more time passed, the stronger you felt the need to do something about your feelings. Naturally, you couldn't speak, but there was still something you could do. Something you probably did best. Write.

So one day, after what felt like an eternity of yearning, you finally gathered the courage to act on your emotions. Taking a small sheet of paper out of your notebook, you wrote a little something. It was probably super lame but apparently, even your writing skills were affected by your crush on him. As soon as your "masterpiece" was done, you slid it towards Renjun before you could chicken out and change your mind about this whole thing. The note had the following text:

Roses are red, Violets are blue, Your drawings are almost As pretty as you. P.S. Key word: almost ;)

The second he spotted the little note which was folded in a hurry, he opened it curiously. Once he read its insides, you could hear him snort under his breath. Was it that bad? You couldn't help but worry. Then, he took his own pen and started writing something under it. That was a good sign, right? You were feeling hopeful. Once he was done, he slid the paper towards you. You opened it in a rush. His response was:

Hey! Are you bullying my art?!?

You looked at him in confusion. How could he have possibly misunderstood? However, he was too focused on multitasking (drawing most of the time and occasionally taking notes based on the lecture) to spot your reaction. You decided you had no choice but to be as explicit as possible and wrote another note:

Nooo, I meant to compliment both you and your art, sorry if it came off wrong and lame :(

When he received it, you could swear you saw him smiling a little, which made your heart melt. How was he so beautiful? Soon enough, his reply came:

That's alright, I'm just teasing...Also, it worked.

You couldn't believe it. It worked? You'd successfully grabbed his attention by using this first-grade flirting method in college? You were suddenly feeling brave and kept writing. It was too late to turn back time.

I just think you're really pretty and cool especially when you draw but I was too hesitant to talk to you directly...

When he read your most recent note, he even gave you a look of disbelief, which you couldn't interpret until you saw his response:

Cool? Wow, that's a first...And it's ok, I don't bite.

You chuckled quietly and suddenly noticed that class was ending soon. You couldn't wait until tomorrow so you hurriedly wrote the content of your next note:

What do I have to do to get your number?

Renjun shook his head in amusement and this time, his reply came quicker than before:

*number enclosed* Here, that wasn't so hard, was it?

You could hear the lecturer saying his words of conclusion and you hurried to respond via another note, because you couldn't trust your voice to actually speak to Renjun. Not yet, at least. So, you wrote:

Thank you!!! Here is mine: *number enclosed*

And just as he received your final note, the students around you started gathering their things. You simply looked at Renjun and you still couldn't believe he'd actually replied to your silly flirting and even gave you his number! You waved him goodbye like a lovesick fool and practically ran outside of the lecture hall. Stage fright whomst? Try having a crush on the prettiest boy in the world.

After you went back home, you debated calling Renjun. Eventually, you talked yourself out of it. What if you said something stupid and embarrassing? With texting, you could at least have more time to think things through before sending them. Actually speaking to him seemed too terrifying a task to accomplish. So, you texted him excitedly and your heart did a back-flip when he replied. Was it strange that you already missed him, even though it had only been a couple of hours since you last saw him? Naturally, you couldn't tell him that, it would probably freak him out. So, you settled for texting (for the time being).

Renjun: Why did you run away after class?

You: I was too nervous to speak to you, I'm sorry!!!

Renjun: That's strange, I see you talking to your friends all the time...Am I so scary?!?

You: Nooo, you're not scary, I'm just being an idiot 😔

Renjun: Top of the class does not equal idiot but I'll let it slide this time

You: Thank you for your generosity!

Renjun: What are you up to?

You: Probably gonna work on that assignment for next week

You: Sorry, I'm so boring 😔

Renjun: First of all, you don't have to apologize so much, you did nothing wrong

Renjun: Second of all, saaame. We can brainstorm together if you want?

You: Sorry, I'll stop. Oops, I did it again. Pretend you didn't see it.

You: Also omg, yes pls, that would be great!

And that is how your friendship with Renjun started. Texting on your phones and exchanging notes during class lasted a week until you finally decided to ask him out. Again, via text, because you were feeling too shy to speak to him. The only other contact you'd had was waving at each other. And it's not like he spoke to you, either. There were two explanations for that: 1) he chose to respect your decision or 2) he was possibly just as shy as you were. Whatever the reason, you thought this could not go on forever so you managed to find the bravery to propose a date.

You: Do you wanna go out with me? 👉🥺👈

Renjun: Sure, where do you wanna go?

You: Oh, wow, I didn't think I'd get this far lol

You: Where do YOU wanna go?

Renjun: Hmm, there's this new art gallery I've been meaning to visit...if that's okay with you

You: Anything is good with me as long as I get to see your pretty face

Renjun: What

You: I said you're pretty

Renjun: Shut up, oh my God...

You: Do you want me to stop?

Renjun: Say that again

You: You're pretty

Renjun: 😳😳😳

Renjun: I can't wait to see you again

You: Same here

Once you got to the front of the art gallery, it struck you how strange it was that you would speak to Renjun for the first time ever. You mentally braced yourself as you awaited his arrival anxiously. Your nails were digging into the inside of your hands and you were terrified you'd pierce holes through your own skin. You told yourself this was silly, you had no reason to be so nervous. Renjun was a total sweetheart and he obviously liked talking...well, writing to you. You needn't worry that much, you kept repeating in your mind. You were too busy hyping yourself up to notice him approaching behind you. Too busy to be prepared for what came next.

"Hiii," Renjun greeted you with a surprise back hug.

"Oh dear," you jumped in shock as you turned around.

"Did I scare you, angel?"

Shit. Already with the pet names? How were you supposed to survive?

"No, it's fine," you waved him off, trying to play it cool. "Isn't it weird this is the first time we're actually speaking to each other?"

"Um...kinda," Renjun scratched the back of his head. "But I like it, it's what makes this so special."

"Wow, you sure do have a way with words," you chuckled.

"Shall we go inside?" he suggested.

"Yes, please."

As you looked around the art gallery, you kept pointing excitedly at the paintings, while Renjun was quietly evaluating them and telling you interesting stories about the artists. You couldn't help but be amazed by how attractive he was as he exhibited his knowledge. And of course, you couldn't help but wonder at how he was so much more beautiful than all the art you've ever seen. Naturally, you wouldn't tell him that. First of all, because it was too lame to speak aloud. Second of all, because your voice would undoubtedly betray you and crack or something even more embarrassing. As time passed, you were surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, despite your previous concerns. Renjun was very polite and soft-mannered and he made you feel comfortable, while the two of you looked at the paintings and discussed them. Once you'd seen everything, you were starting to feel a bit bummed out that your lovely date was coming to an end. When you were outside the art gallery, you impulsively asked:

"Can I walk you home?"

"I mean...sure. On one condition."

"Anything."

"I get to walk you home next time."

"There'll be a next time?" you whispered hopefully.

"I hope I don't sound presumptuous if I share my observation we both had a wonderful time."

"That's perfectly alright. Your observation is correct," you admitted.

"I live just around the corner, though. You really don't have to-"

"But I want to."

"So do I," Renjun said and the two of you began walking towards his home.

"I was wondering about something...You already know I didn't speak to you because I was feeling shy, but why didn't you? I have two theories, but I'm curious which one is more on point."

"Do tell and I'll try my best to enlighten you," he joked.

"Okay, so theory number one is you were being respectful of my wish not to talk yet. Theory number two is that you're just as shy as I am."

Renjun laughed and you could swear this was the sweetest sound in the entire universe.

"Am I so transparent? Honestly, it's a little bit of both. But there's another part you didn't guess. But it's too embarrassing."

"Come on, tell meee! It can't be more embarrassing than my lame attempts to flirt with you."

Renjun smiled gently.

"Well, to be honest, I couldn't believe you thought I was cool and pretty...I even feared this was some sort of prank. It wouldn't be the first time someone decided to mess with me like that."

"Renjun, are you serious? I don't understand why anyone would...Scratch that, whoever messed with you didn't deserve even a fraction of your attention. I meant every word I said. I really like you...and your paintings. And I'm sorry I couldn't say it aloud earlier. You genuinely deserve to hear nice things more."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," he blinked cutely. "But enough about me. I never told you...how beautiful you are. How kind and smart."

"I know," you waved him off teasingly. "But coming from you, this means a lot."

Renjun shook his head, amused by your words.

"We should go somewhere you like next time. Maybe a bookshop?" he suggested.

"Am I so transparent?" you repeated his words. "But sure, yeah. That sounds nice."

"Well, this is me," he said, pointing towards his home.

"Already? Aw, time sure flies by when you're having fun."

"I'll see you tomorrow in class, right?"

"Of course," you promised and before you could talk yourself out of it, gave him a quick but heartfelt hug. "Bye, Renjun."

"Bye, angel."

After your first date with Renjun, things were going quite smoothly. You finally got over your nervousness when it came to talking to him and the two of you would occasionally whisper things to each other during class. The first time he held your hand under the desk your cheeks filled with colour. Despite your embarrassment, you held his hand right back and granted him with a grateful smile. After that, holding hands in class (whenever you weren't busy taking notes) became like second nature to you two. It just felt so sweet and comfortable to be close to him. You couldn't wait till the next weekend for your second date. Even though you were just going to a bookshop and had nothing that special planned out, you enjoyed being around him so much that you were more than excited for spending time with him one-on-one. No professors or other students to distract you.

When the day finally arrived, you were surprised to find out your anxious self had made a comeback. Even though you were around him everyday and had grown accustomed to holding a conversation, it had been an entire week since your first date when it was just the two of you and you couldn't help but get cold feet as you were waiting in front of the bookshop. This time Renjun didn't surprise you from behind, you could see him approaching from a distance. Mentally bracing yourself for his inevitable arrival, you knew you'd be an awkward mess no matter how hard you tried.

"Hey, angel," he greeted you with the usual hug.

"It's nice to see you again, Renjun," you replied dumbly, briefly melting into his arms.

"You saw me yesterday, remember?" he teased you.

"Um, yeah, but still," you chuckled.

"Is everything okay? You don't seem like yourself," Renjun immediately noticed the change in your behaviour.

"Why wouldn't it be? Everything's peachy," you lied, but he didn't seem to believe you.

"Be honest with me, please," Renjun asked. You suddenly remembered what he'd confided in you during your first date. It was no wonder he had a hard time trusting you after someone in his past had had the nerve to pull such a cruel prank on a soul as sweet as his. You felt guilty for lying rightaway and began explaining yourself.

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I don't want to fuck anything up. Like I just did by lying and swearing. Fuck. I did it again, didn't I? I'll shut up now," you were rambling anxiously.

"Relax, Y/N, I totally get it. I was just worried maybe you didn't want to be here...with me."

"What? Nonsense. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. No one else I'd rather be with."

"Well, the feeling's mutual so there's no need for concern. Let's look at those books, yeah?"

"Yeah, sounds good, Renjun."

As the two of you went inside and started exploring the hundreds of shelves together, you felt yourself relaxing a little. Being surrounded by so many familiar titles, so many gorgeous covers was comforting. And as you kept showing Renjun some of your favourite books and telling him about your most beloved characters, he realized you were back to your usual self in no time. Attentively listening and occasionally sharing his opinions on certain authors, you didn't notice how quickly time passed by and how much you had enjoyed yourself and each other's company. Once you had looked through the bookshop in its entirety, you felt like it was too early to put an end to your date, but you didn't want to come off as too clingy or something. So, you simply looked at Renjun, expecting him to say what he wanted to do next.

"I promised you I'll walk you home this time, didn't I?" he smoothly said.

"I believe you did," you giggled. It was so sweet of him to remember such a detail.

"I'm a man of my word so lead the way," Renjun replied, offering you his arm.

"It will be my pleasure," you eagerly took his arm and the two of you began walking. You were deliberately moving at a slow place, simply because you didn't want this to end and felt like prolonging the time around him.

"Your hands are so pretty," you blurted out at one point.

"You like my hands, huh?" Renjun smirked.

"Did I say that out loud?" you were undoubtedly blushing really hard.

"I'm afraid so."

You felt completely mortified as you covered your face with your own hands.

"Hey, hey, it's fine. You can tell me anything. Chances are I'll take it as a compliment."

"Really?" you sneaked a peak. "You don't think I'm weird?"

"Maybe a little bit, but it's one of the things I like about you."

"One?" you blinked curiously.

"You're really fun to be around and you've been nothing but sweet to me. And of course, you're stunning, but that goes without saying."

"Without saying? I don't mind hearing it, though."

"I'll have that in mind," Renjun smiled gently.

"Renjun?"

"Yes?"

"Can you hold my hand?" you almost begged.

"I don't know, can I?" he tormented you with a joke.

"Will you hold my hand?" you corrected yourself.

"All you had to do was ask," Renjun acquiesced and intertwined your fingers.

Walking hand in hand, you eventually reached your place. As you two stared at one another, you refusing to go inside, him refusing to go, both of you refusing to let go of the other's hand, you thought to yourself how badly you wanted to kiss him. You had no idea if it was too early for that but you knew that the longer you tried to postpone it, the more you'd crave him. And you were an impatient person. So you quickly kissed him without thinking much. It was a bit awkward and rushed but at least, you had finally done as you wanted. Renjun looked taken aback and blinked at you a couple of times.

"I'm sorry," you apologized again. "I just..."

He silenced you softly with another kiss, this time more slowly and putting your mind and heart at ease. You lost yourself in the feeling of his plush lips against yours, finally letting go of his hand so that you could wrap yours around his neck. Hesitant at first but growing bolder by the second, you could sense Renjun's tongue testing the waters. You slightly parted your lips, letting him in. As the kiss intensified, you could feel him becoming more eager to touch you, his arms wrapped around your lower back. When you were seconds away from losing your breath, you finally broke the kiss. Opening your eyes to look at him, you couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He'd kissed you back.

"I thought I told you to stop apologizing so much. Especially, when you haven't done anything wrong," Renjun scolded you politely.

You opened your mouth to argue, but when you realized your immediate response would have been another 'I'm sorry', you closed it. A second later, you came up with a different reply.

"I guess you'll have to discipline me, then," you huffed in a challenge.

"Dumbass," Renjun flicked your forehead.

"Hey!" you complained with a pout. "That hurts."

"What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?" Renjun gave an unamused look.

"That doesn't sound like such a bad idea," you mumbled, not expecting him to actually...kiss your forehead. But he did. And damn your knees for threatening to give out.

"Feel better yet?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"Get inside already," Renjun tickled your sides, nudging you in the direction of your door.

"You want to get rid of me so badly?"

"No, but we can stand here forever if you don't," he rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to invite you in?"

"Don't tempt me and go," he was impossible to sway.

"Okay, okay," you relented. "See you tomorrow, Renjun!"

For your third date Renjun suggested something different. While your first and second date had all taken place in public locations, this time he offered going to his place. And maybe the shock on your face was too obvious, because Renjun was quick to keep talking and almost take it back.

"We don't have to if you don't want to! We can just watch something at the cinema or whatever. Forget I mentioned it if you're uncomfortable."

You quickly shook your head.

"No, no, I do want to come over! I was just...not expecting it."

"Yeah? You sure?"

"A hundred per cent," you nodded excitedly.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm at two hundred per cent," Renjun teased.

"It's not a competition," you reminded him.

"It's not if I'm winning," he kept playing around.

You rolled your eyes.

"So what are we watching?" you asked.

"You can't go wrong with Harry Potter, am I right?"

"You are so right," you squealed. "Which house are you in?"

"Don't get me started. Sometimes I get Ravenclaw, sometimes Slytherin, it's a mess."

"That's pretty cool, though," you were practically staring at him with heart eyes at this point.

"You're a Hufflepuff, aren't you?"

"Am I so transparent?" you complained, this line becoming something of a running gag between the two of you.

"Cute," he mumbled under his breath and you blushed, not managing to maintain eye contact.

When the time arrived for you to go to Renjun's place, you were more excited rather than nervous. He was so easy to talk to and you were genuinely making so many wonderful memories that you had made it your mission to not waste any second worrying needlessly.

"I have arrived," you announced the obvious as you stood at his door.

"I can see that," Renjun chuckled. "Come on in."

"I wasn't sure if I should bring something so I bought some pizza on the way. It's still hot, so I hope you're hungry," you said as you followed him inside like a puppy.

"Oh, that's very thoughtful. And I always have enough space left for pizza."

You grinned and the minute you put the box on the table and your arms were free, you wrapped them around Renjun in a hug.

"You're so warm," you murmured against his skin.

He kissed the top of your head swiftly. Soon after, the two of you were too busy re-watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, eating pizza and holding hands to talk much. Once the movie was over, you realized how badly you didn't want to go home and how cozy leaning your head on Renjun's shoulder felt. And how much you liked him and couldn't stop thinking about his hands, his smile and his overall existence.

"Do you want to go home already?" Renjun asked the dreaded question.

"I mean, not really, but I don't wanna impose myself on you," you whispered.

"Don't be so formal," Renjun replied. "Just stay a little longer."

"Yayyy!" you were quite overjoyed and kissed his cheek. "What do you want to do?"

"Hm, I don't know. I could give you a tour around the place."

"Sure, that sounds fun," you immediately agreed.

"Don't get your hopes up, it's just a regular college guy's apartment."

"I'm sure I'll be amazed by every little detail."

"Even my socks?"

"Especially your socks," you joked.

As he showed you around his apartment, you couldn't help but be amazed by how Renjun-like everything was. From the snug kitchen to his art supplies scattered around. Every corner made the atmosphere feel extremely homey. Until you saw something that you hadn't expected, something that hadn't come up in conversation before. A stunning grand piano. You looked at the instrument and then at Renjun and finally, back at the piano.

"Do you play?"

"No, I just keep things like that as an accessory," he responded sarcastically. "Of course, I play."

"Can you...no, wait," you stopped yourself before making a similar mistake to the one you made a while ago. "Will you play something for me?"

"Right now?"

"If it's not too much trouble," you gave him the very best pleading look you were capable of.

Renjun sighed reluctantly and sat down on the bench in front of the piano.

"Don't just stand there awkwardly, sit next to me," he urged you courteously.

You followed his advice and took the free spot. However, nothing could have possibly prepared you for witnessing Renjun's skills up-close. Watching him play was like magic. You were simply in awe and couldn't help but stare at his pretty fingers hitting the keys in just the right ways. When he was finished performing the piece, you were too frozen to do anything. Couldn't even manage to clap, even though he deserved it so much. But you were too transfixed by his playing and those damn hands of his you couldn't possibly move.

"Earth to Y/N?" Renjun went as far as snapping his fingers right in front of your face.

"Huh?" you let out.

"Did I enchant you or what?"

"I think you did," you chuckled. "Just...wow. You're insanely good."

He looked away bashfully.

"Thanks. It just takes practice."

"Nah, I've heard people play before but what you have is different. So pure and genuine. Like a blessing. And I'm not just saying that because I think I'm falling in love with you. I really mean every word."

"Care to repeat that?"

"I really mean..." you started, still not registering what exactly you'd said. How far you'd gone. What you couldn't take back.

"Before that," Renjun reminded you gently. "You know. The part about falling in love with me."

"Shit. I was thinking out loud again, wasn't I?" you asked dumbly. "It's too early for that, I know. I'm really sorry. Let's just pretend I said nothing and forget about it, yeah?"

In your panic, you jumped up from the bench and were about to escape like a coward but Renjun grabbed your hand before you could take another step.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, too," he said.

"W-what?" you stammered.

"And I don't care about whether it's too early or not. And I'm not going to pretend I didn't hear it. So the question is...what are you going to do about that?"

"Me? What...am I supposed to do?"

"What you want to do," Renjun clarified.

"Um...I want to keep falling in love with you, Renjun. And holding your pretty hands. Spending time with you. Listening to your angelic voice. What I want...is for you to be my boyfriend."

"I thought I already was."

"You were?"

"We went on a couple of dates...we kissed...Haven't I made it obvious enough?"

"Oh, right," you chuckled. "Sorry."

"Say that word one more time, I dare you," Renjun slowly ran a finger down your lips.

"S-sorry?" you had to test his patience. Before you could argue, he kissed you fiercely, wrapping his palms around your cheeks. You were drowning beneath his touch, which was ridiculous, considering he was also setting your lips on fire. You figured if saying sorry too much was going to end up like this, you would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

"Pretty angel," Renjun whispered against your mouth. "My pretty angel."

You were practically melting and the only thing holding you together were Renjun's arms.

"For fear of sounding lame, I'm inclined to say your pretty angel's almost as pretty as you. Key word: almost," you giggled, recalling your earliest attempts at flirting with him.

"Lies," Renjun shook his head.

"Hey, it worked the first time!" you pouted.

"It only worked because you're the pretty one," Renjun ruffled your hair playfully.

"Oh my God, shut up," you covered your face to hide how red it was.

"Never."

The End

#nct #renjun #nct dream #renjun x reader #nct fluff #renjun fluff #hwang renjun #nct romance #hwang renjun x reader #college au #writing

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jen-with-a-pen · 2 years

Text

THIS HOUSE HAD SWING IN IT - Before

Two

gen summary: Following the events of the Battle of Earth, Bucky is graciously pardoned and decides it's best to return back to his roots. Shelbyville, Indiana, to be exact. Recovering from his time in Wakanda, his brutal past, and the loss of his best friend, Bucky tries his hardest to finally find peace. In his attempts, you come along and change everything.

chapter summary: Homecoming. Undeserving. Hospitality. Alpine.

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: this has been my pride n joy for six or seven months now, having been spurred when i finished reading vacant mirrors (not inspired by it, tho!) I have so many ideas for this series(?) but for now, enjoy these first couple installments while i gather my bearings and get tower fic figured out. happy new years, cheers to 2022 and some good writing ahead :)

cover art: original art from The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #1 by Derek Landy & illustrated by Federico Vincentini | edited by me via photoshop

want some background for this fic? check out my playlists for this work!

This House: The Swing Collection

This House Had Swing In It

disclaimer: the only places you'll find this fic, and my writing, will be my blog and my AO3. =)

When the news that the Winter Soldier was moving to Shelbyville broke, there was a small, sympathetic effort to help him out. People and veterans alike came out of the woodwork with a ‘no questions asked’ type of spirit. Some contacted realtors, a few got ahold of the VA, and others familiar with the Soldier’s history tracked down whatever was left of him from his time before the war.

Records were found, showing valuables and belongings had been split up between one James Buchanan Barnes and his three sisters once their mother passed. All those years, and it was all found shoved deep within an abandoned, and fortunately, overlooked storage unit that was then obtained by the local American Legion post. A dining room set, his father’s medals and folded flag, photo albums, records, a vintage three-way media cabinet, even his mother’s wedding ring.

Partnered with the good ol’ boys over at the VA— and maybe a little help from Sam Wilson and his convenient political leverage— the American Legion ever-so-kindly decorated the house purchased for Sergeant Barnes by the government. They had it furnished, painted, cleaned, the works.

They even gifted Bucky a brand-new Indian motorcycle, one which he incessantly protested accepting because he didn’t deserve it.

It had taken a week of reassurance from Sam that Bucky did deserve a decent mode of transportation. His decision might have even been influenced by the threat that Sam himself would fly him everywhere if that’s what he wanted.

However, something equally good did come out of moving back to Indiana.

Before he had settled in his first night in town, one of the Korean War Veterans approached his doorstep, a small ball of white fur wrapped in a blanket held tightly in his arms. A box containing a bag of food, two bowls, and a printout of medical information sat at the man’s feet when Bucky answered the door.

“Forgot this gal,” the man said as he offered it to Bucky, who took and delicately cradled the blanket in his arms. A white mound of fur stirred; out popped a small, whiskered face with two bright blue eyes and a pink nose. She yawned, purred softly, and settled back into her sleep.

Bucky stared at her in awe.

“One of my wife’s strays had a litter. Thought you’d want some company since you don’t have a gal,” the Vet quipped and coughed into his sleeve. “All her shots are up t’date, spay’s taken care of, too, when she’s older. All ya gotta do is name ‘er.”

In a daze, Bucky thanked the man and stepped back into his house, his living room. He cradled the kitten for what seemed like forever, debating what he would name her. He pondered for a good day or two when he finally settled on the perfect name.

Alpine.

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beware-of-you-98 · 3 years

Text

BAU as College Professors AU

*cracks knuckles*

Penelope

penelope is a graphic design professor

she loves teaching kids about the wonders of photoshop!!

hates illustrator and indesign with a burning passion

(the illustrator pen tool can fucking choke for all she cares)

(AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU PUT THE FRONT AND COVER TOGETHER IN INDESIGN!?!?)

(she really hates both applications sm 😭)

is always reluctant to teach them but does it begrudgingly

(she’s just glad there’s other professors in the department that teach editorial and graphic illustration)

teaches photography!!

encourages the students to be as expressive as they want to be with their pictures!!!

she’ll be just as enthusiastic to see a close up of a sneaker as she is to see a sunset landscape shot

teaches the graphic design studio classes too!!

she always has music playing!!

half the time, her students come into the class and her glasses are all skewed, her hands are covered in paint or glue and some abstract art piece is sitting on her desk

when the students ask her what it is, she just gives the projects human names

“hey professor... what did you make there?” “oh, this?? her name is... pam.... yeah, pam”

she doesn’t offer up any further explination than that

and the students just accept it

her office light is always off

but she has multiple fairy lights in various colors hung up

her office is v inviting!!!

students come to her to vent or to talk about their problems bc the campus therapist doesn’t help all lmao

she always has on the most unique outfits but she pulls them off so well

a ray of sunshine tbh!!

Spencer

teaches major science and math courses

he teaches chemistry but only chem for majors in chemistry

it’s not that he can’t teach chem for non majors

but he sometimes gets too ahead of himself and forgets he’s teaching a course for non majors

it’s easier for him to teach for majors because the students can follow his ramblings better

he teaches upper level math courses and usually only has like three students in those classes

he’ll sit up on his desk and debate with the students for the entire hour about the riemann hypothesis

he gets excited because the students are just as enthusiastic as he is

he is two extremes

he either shows up to his classroom like a half hour early and writes out all his notes on the board so that when the students come in, he can go right into lecture

or he’ll show up two minutes before class starts with his hair disheveled, his tie undone and his expression glazed over and just be like “listen up i woke up late and just downed an entire pot of coffee i brewed with several cans of monster energy—i don’t exist on this dimension anymore”

on those days, he lets his students work on other projects for other classes because he knows it’s not fair to ask his students to focus if he’s not

he helps them with their homework

penelope brings him lunch sometimes to make sure he’s eating

he appreciates it a lot because between lesson plans and grading, he sometimes forgets to eat

he’s absolutely the youngest prof on campus

sometimes even his students are older than he is

but everyone addresses him correctly and respects him bc he’s really chill

his office is a disorganized mess

there’s files and papers all over his desk

and a sculpture penelope made for him (she named that one “roger”)

psychology professor

she really has a passion for teaching and learning about human psychology

(she may have started to become interested in psychology bc her sister was in the psch honors course before she died)

she comes across as a little hostile and unapproachable tbh

but she’s young

and she’s attractive

and she’s not conveniently what people think a professor looks like

she’ll respect her students if they respect her

she didn’t graduate the top of her class and work her ass off for the degree to not be respected

if there’s any inappropriate comments aimmed towards her or anyone in the class, she kicks the aggressor out immediately

she stands at the front of the room and lectures for the beginning part of the semester

once she’s built a good rapport with her students (and vise versa), she becomes more chill

she’ll sit on the edge of her desk and encourage discussion rather than following a book or a set plan

(she finds it’s more interesting that way anyway)

sometimes her students will show up ten minutes before class starts just to talk with her once they’re comfortable with her

she always answers her emails students send her (queen shit tbh 👑)

some kids in the psych major course playfully call her “mom” because she always asks them how they’re doing and about their week

(she hasn’t decided how she feels about it, but she also lets it slide)

always wears pants suits but cuffs the sleeves to the jackets

her office always smells like eucalyptus because she has a small mist diffuser plugged in

she also has a small fish tank with a beta fish inside (its the appropriate size too!!)

(she let a student name the fish—it’s name is sir bubbles of argon)

she also has a sculpture from penelope (“her name is maxine”)

her desk is very organized and clean!!

there’s a small couch in her office and her door is always open

sometimes, students will come in if they’re having a hard time and need someone to talk to

they know jj is there to listen and she always seems to understand (she doesn’t judge them either)

Emily

teaches three languages, both for majors and non majors

spanish, french and russian

(she’s also quite fluent in arabic and italian and can hold her own if she’s speaking in german or mandarin, but the students don’t need to know that)

she’s actually very intimidating lmao

students are so scared of her 😭

she’s serious af

(she smiles in class sometimes though!!)

(besides, she’s only serious inside the classroom)

(outside the classroom, she might even be as approachable as penelope)

always dressed in expensive black suits, polished heeled shoes with very dark makeup and a “don’t fuck with me” steely attitude to match

she also wears expensive watches

she always stands at the front of the class and slowly paces the entire hour

one time someone decided to fuck off in her spanish 101 class

she didn’t even yell at him, she glared

rumor has it the kid was never spotted on campus again after that

(BOY SHE SCARED HIM SO BAD HE DROPPED TF OUT)

despite that, her classes are some of the easiest to take

one because emily has a way of teaching that helps all students understand

and two because her voice is naturally very easy to listen to

students taking her french 101 are going to leave the class speaking fluent conversational french

she also doesn’t tolerate people being racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc in her class

if she catches a bigoted comment someone makes in her class, she kicks them immediately

she brings in her cat sometimes

he’s all black and his name is sergio

(he’s her esa that she brings in when she’s feeling really stressed out)

he’s clipped on a harness and sits on her shoulder or on her desk

if he meows, she accepts it as an answer

it’s the only time the students ever see professor emily prentiss as soft

well

other than the days she has the class watch foreign films because the students can tell emily has a fondness for them

her office is pretty organized like jj’s

instead of it being light and inviting, emily decorated her office on a more dark side

she has a few animal skulls, crystals and other gothic memorabilia on her desk or bookshelf

she has a small cat bed on the corner of her desk that sergio sleeps in

on the other corner is a sculpture penelope made her

(it kinda looks like a crow and emily named it kurt)

really, the only colors in her office are dark, deep purples and the small lesbian pride flag sticker on the back of her laptop

Derek

teaches history classes

but like modern history

from like 1940s to present

he refuses to follow most western history books bc they’re not accurate like at all

in his first year of teaching, the dean of his department made him use a book and he hated every second of it

how accurate could the information be if they portray king tut as a white guy???

he graduated under one of the best historians in the country

he also traveled a lot after he graduated and met a lot of people that had first hand experience with major historical events

that’s really what he bases his teachings off of—first hand experiences and encounters

every two weeks or so, he’ll invite in guest speakers to his classes to talk about what they went through (depending on his lesson plans)

that’s how he likes to teach and learn (bc he always loves to learn new things!!)

this is random, but also he is the type of professor to randomly box jump up onto a desk

he also sits in chairs backwards and has a more laid back style to teaching

his exams are based on what the students can learn from history rather than the information itself

he’s always dressed super casual!!

solid color, short sleeve button ups are a favorite!! (no tie)

he gets along with all the students

he’ll talk to the athletes about their games but sound just as enthusiastic and genuine talking with students who are majors in fine arts about their projects

he’s just a v down to earth professor tbh!!

he brings in clooney so much

like... every friday

it’s just another bonus of taking his history classes!!

he and penelope are dating

his office is full of sculptures she makes for him 🥺

he drops by her graphic design studio class with clooney to help out or even to just watch

he’s supportive and encouraging of penelope and her art!!

other than the sculptures penelope makes him, his office is a bit more disorganized than jj’s or emily’s, but cleaner than spencer’s

he has a few papers scattered on his desk but mostly he’s a little more put together

his office door has a small basketball hoop attached that he plays around with if he’s bored (and if penelope is busy)

both he and penelope have a dog bed in their office and water bowls for clooney when he comes in

Hotch

law professor

is the most intimidating professor on campus

seriously

if students think professor prentiss is intimidating, they haven’t met professor hotchner

he stands in the front of the room and goes over his lecture without pausing or asking questions

his voice is naturally low and intimidating and he actually never smiles

his attire and appearance is always so professional

suits

ties that are tied so tight, they look like they’re choking him

shoes so polished, he can see his reflection in them

hair always styled neatly

pants and jacket are always wrinkle free

his classes are difficult

not just because of the subject matter, but because he has a very organized, straight forward method to his teaching

students wouldn’t dare act up in his class—they’d be absolute idiots to

he’s quiet and reserved outside the classroom

if the others hear anyone talking shit about hotch behind his back, they’re always quick to come to his defense

they actually know hotch

they know he puts on a hardass exterior, but really he’s just a softie

he always lets them hang in his office with him

he listens to spencer’s ramblings and is extremely patient with him

he has lunch with emily every other day

even if she’s a pain in his ass 99% of the time, he likes that she sticks around and that he can trust her

he shows up to all of penelope’s art shows

and sometimes sits in on derek’s lectures when he has guest speakers

jj brings him pastries from the coffee shop on campus sometimes

he knows that he can come to her if he ever has anything he needs to talk about

(he never opens up to her but he really appreciates the sentiment nonetheless)

penelope has definitely made hotch a few sculptures

(he keeps them at home, but he does have one of her paintings hanging in his office)

speaking of his office it’s hands down the most organized out of all of them

his desk is so clean besides the picture of his son he proudly displays at the corner

he always has his lights off and his door shut

he seems so unapproachable, especially in class

but sometimes his lecture notes have crayon scribbles all over the page

or a small sock will fall out of his briefcase

and maybe, even for a moment, his serious demeanor falls when he spots them

and it almost reassures the students that he is human

Rossi

actually he’s the only one besides maybe reid i can see being a criminology professor

is a retired fbi agent

and successful author

so like that hasn’t changed from canon

but because he doesn’t work for the fbi anymore, he has absolutely no chill and tells all secrets

he’ll be like

talking to his class about a case he worked on in ‘83

and be halfway talking about details of cases that were supposed to be confidential

he’ll pause and go “oops” but keep talking lmaooo

penelope actually never made him a sculpture

instead she made him a coffee mug she made on the wheel and glazed herself!! (she even made her own glaze bc she’s extra like that)

carved on the side is “world’s best italian dad”

(this is because when emily introduced rossi to the group she was like “yeah he’s kinda like my dad” and now everyone calls him “dad”)

(he loves it so much though and proudly accepts his title)

he loves his mug so much and uses it every single day!!!

he’s the only professor besides penelope that let his students refer to him without the title of “professor”

he gives off kind old grandpa vibes

and that he’s only teaching because he really doesn’t have anything better to do during his retirement

but he’s chill and his class is interesting to take

(plus he really does love to teach)

he’ll ramble on and on about his “golden years” as an agent

he will especially talk a student’s ear off if they come up to him and tell him that they read one [or all] of his books

he writes a different quote on his board every single day

his attire is always business casual

he sits on the edge of the desk or on a swivel chair because it’s comfy

he was doing a lecture on jack the ripper and just pushed himself around on the swivel chair, slowly spinning around the front of the room

his voice kept changing in volume every few words because of him facing the wall and then a few moments later facing the classroom

his students refer to him as a “living breathing meme”

he has no idea what the fuck that means

but he take it as a compliment

his office is empty because he goes home after he’s done with classes lmao

he doesn’t do paperwork

or fuck with technology (he never fucking responds to emails smh)

so he has no need for an office

#criminal minds au #penelope garcia #spencer reid #jennifer jereau #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotch hotchner #david rossi #honestly not much has changed about rossi from canon #but #ye #also #half of these are based on my college experiences lmao #my history professor brought his pair of poodles to class like every other week and it was the only reason i didn’t drop the class #my math professor walked into class one morning and just fucking box jumped up onto a fucking desk for no reason #during dead week my graphic design professor let us watch katy perry music videos for an entire class period it was grear #my gd studio professor was a weird dude but his class was so much fun #i’m still pressed about professors not responding to my emails tbh #professors: email me if you have any concerns or questions #me: (emails profs)#profs: (never respond or even read emails)#fuck right off lmao #long post #emily has a sculpture now pls #college professor au

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

The Art of Debate

Read on AO3

Written for Timari January Day 29 - Debate Competition

@timari-month-event

Marinette had always had a gift with words. The ability to use her words to convince people to do what she wanted came naturally to her. At the age of five, Marinette convinced her kindergarten teacher to take their whole class to get ice cream. At the age of thirteen, she joined her first debate team and was a crucial part of the winning debate that got her team third place in Regionals. Two years later, she was the captain of her high school debate team, and they were competing all over France. Two years after that, in her last year of high school, Marinette's team qualified for an international debate competition that took them all around the world. The championship debate, between Francois Dupont Academy and Gotham Academy, was to be held in Gotham.

Marinette had faith in her team that they would win. The team of ten debaters practiced every afternoon for months, led by Marinette and her co-captain Lila.

Lila had been an unexpected addition to the team, given that Marinette and Lila had gotten off to a bad start when Lila first joined her class. However, after witnessing Lila so thoroughly convince the class of a lie so outrageous that Marinette could hardly believe that anyone with half a brain would see right through it, Marinette realized that Lila's skills could be put to good use. Marinette offered the Italian girl a deal. If Lila joined the debate team and promised to never use her lies to cause direct harm, Marinette would no longer call her out of her harmless lies. Lila agreed, and quickly became one of their key debaters.

Over time, Lila started lying less and less, as she realized that she didn't need to lie to make friends. Two years after the first joined the debate team, Lila stayed after practice and offered Marinette a deal. Lila would never lie again if Marinette made her co-captain of the debate team. In full faith, Marinette agreed. She had seen the change in Lila and knew that there was a chance that they might even become friends.

"How's practice going?" asked Marinette as Lila joined her at the front of the classroom. Marinette was going over the paperwork for their upcoming championship debate while Lila was running practice. Their team members were hard at work: Aurore and Mireille were debating net neutrality, Kagami and Ivan were debating the right to own firearms, Sabrina and Nathanial were debating the morality of abortion, and Max and Marc were debating the ethics of medically assisted suicide.

"It's going well. I have everyone partnered up, working on either the affirmative or negative position. Then they'll split into either the research group or the public speaking group, based on what skills they need to improve on."

Marinette smiled. "We're going to win this, I just know it."

Lila gave her a devious smile back. "As if I would let us lose."

---

In the hallway of the Gotham Grand Hotel, outside of the ballroom where the debate tournament was being held, Marinette fed US dollar bills into a vending machine. "Diet coke is... A7." Marinette pressed the button and waited as the machine refused to give her the drink. "Are you serious?" sighed Marinette.

"Need some help?" asked a dark-haired boy in a sweater with an iron-on patch reading Gotham Preparatory Academy Debate Team. He was cute, in a nerdy kind of way. Nerdy wasn't Marinette's usual type, but she could see the appeal with the boy in front of her.

"I gave the machine my money but it won't give me my drink, and my debate - our debate, actually - starts in just a few minutes."

"I'll let you in on a secret. You aren't supposed to shake it, but if you do it anyway..." the boy shook the machine, and Marinette's diet coke tumbled down into the tray below.

Marinette smiled. "Thank you! I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, by the way. I'm co-captain of the team from Françoise Dupont."

"Timothy Drake, but you can call me Tim. I look forward to seeing you debate."

"Thanks, you too." Marinette watched as Tim turned and left, jogging to catch up with one of his teammates, a blonde girl who glanced over towards Marinette with a knowing smile on her face. Any other day, Marinette would have spent a little more of her attention on Tim, but today she knew she had to focus. Marinette had a debate to win.

---

"We live in a world facing an incredible number of challenges. However, there is one challenge that often sticks out among the rest as the most pressing issue, with much debate over its severity. Is climate change the greatest threat facing humanity today? Collège Françoise Dupont, you will be arguing the affirmative. Gotham Preparatory Academy, you will be arguing the negative.

Kagami and Max went up first, two excellent debaters, and while the students from Gotham were certainly good, they were no match for Kagami and Max. Kagami had the self-assured confidence to never show any doubt about the validity of her claims and Max had the raw knowledge to win any debate through the sheer amount of factual evidence he could bring to the table. The first round went to Kagami and Max, giving Françoise Dupont a strong start.

As Marinette high-fived Kagami and Max, she caught a glimpse of Tim out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at her with a look on his face that Marinette couldn't quite decipher - confusion or frustration or some mix of the two. Either way, Marinette didn't particularly enjoy being stared at. She met his eyes and stared right back, narrowing her eyes. Tim looked away, a slight flush to his face. Marinette was left feeling more confused than anything else. Why was Tim staring at her, and why with such an odd look on his face?

Three more rounds of debate followed, with wins alternating between Collège Françoise Dupont and Gotham Academy. The schools were tied two and two by the final round, but Marinette couldn't quite stay focused on the debate. The only thing she could focus on was Tim. Watching him in her periphery, Marinette could see him having a heated exchange with one of the girls on his team, the blonde that Marinette had noticed earlier.

"Focus, Marinette!" hissed Lila. "This is the final round, and you and I are up."

The announcer stepped up to the microphone to announce the topic of debate. "This topic has been in the news a lot these past few weeks, with the introduction of the Superhero Registration Act. Though most news sources consider it unlikely that the bill will pass, it raises the question which you will be debating today: Should the government have a larger role in regulating the actions of vigilante superheroes? Gotham Preparatory Academy, you will be arguing the affirmative. Françoise Dupont, you will be arguing the negative."

Marinette shared a look with Lila, who was already smirking. "No way we lose this one," Lila mouthed.

Marinette nodded, narrowing her eyes at the opposing team. Even if Tim was cute, there was no way she was losing.

The affirmative started the debate, meaning that the team from Gotham spoke first. Stephanie Brown, Tim's blonde teammate from earlier, began with a lecture about a lack of accountability associated with vigilante justice. It was a flimsy argument if you knew where to poke holes in it. Luckily, that was what Marinette was best at.

"It's been universally accepted that superheroes are a necessary part of our current culture. The one job a superhero has is to save as many lives as possible. How are they supposed to complete that one job if there is constant government restriction and intervention? We've all watched for years as superheroes operated outside of the government - this is because superheroes don't need to be regulated. In addition, I would like to ask: in what way do superheroes need to be more accountable? Our world has seen time and time again that the superhero community keeps itself in check. When one superhero starts to stray from the path of good, they are held accountable by their fellow superheroes."

The debate continued, back and forth between Marinette, Tim, Lila, and Stephanie. With bated breath, Marinette waited for the results of the round to be announced.

"The final round goes to... Collège Françoise Dupont!"

"We did it!" cheered Marinette, as she got up to congratulate her teammates. She celebrated with the rest of her team but still couldn't shake her odd feeling about Tim Drake. Something wasn't right with him, and Marinette was going to figure out what it was.

There was a celebratory banquet after the competition, in which the awards would be given out and the organizers would give their speeches. As Marinette entered the banquet hall she was Tim slip out of the banquet hall and into the hallway at the other side of the room. She made the snap decision to follow him, maneuvering herself through crowds of people until she got to the right exit.

As Marinette turned down the hallway, she caught Tim whispering into his phone in the hallway. As soon as Tim caught sight of her he quickly hung up his phone and shoved it in his pocket. Marinette approached him, eyes narrowing. "Why were you staring at me?"

Tim glanced around to see if anyone else was around, then blurted out, "You're Ladybug."

Marinette froze. That was not what she expected to hear. "I- I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You're the Parisian superhero, Ladybug. It all makes sense - black hair, blue eyes, same approximate height and weight. You're incredibly passionate about superheroes - that's what tipped me off in the first place. To top it all off, you're from the same school that Ladybug has a nearly instantaneous response time for dealing with akumas that arise out of it. I didn't see anyone on your team who fit the profile of Chat Noir, but I guarantee that if I were to snoop around online I could find a picture of you with a blonde-haired green-eyed boy." Tim's rapid-fire analysis left Marinette with no chance to refute his claims.

"You figured all of that out during our hour-long debate tournament?"

Tim nodded slowly. "I'm a bit of a detective, myself. In fact, compared to some of my other detective work, figuring out that you were a superhero was easy."

"You're the first person to ever deduce that I'm Ladybug - including my friends, parents, and Chat Noir himself - and all you have to say for yourself is that it was easy?" exclaimed Marinette.

Tim shrugged awkwardly, seeming to have no words to defend himself. Or perhaps it was because he didn't trust himself to say anything, because he had already revealed more than he had intended to. At that point, Marinette started to make her own deductions. The ease at which he had figured out that she was Ladybug. The fact that he had alluded to making other deductions comparable to figuring out Marinette's Ladybug secret. His knowledge of Ladybug - a minor superhero from across the globe - to the extent that he knew not only her approximate height and weight but her reaction times for akumatizations in different areas of Paris. The pieces started coming together in Marinette's mind. Her eyes narrowed as she accused, "You're a superhero too, Timothy Drake. Or, at the very least, you've worked with superheroes before."

Tim took the accusation even less gracefully than Marinette did, shaking his head rapidly as he backed up a few paces. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I have no idea what you're talking about. Me? A superhero? No way!" Tim ended his babbling with a nervous laugh.

Marinette smiled pleasantly, pleased with herself. Although it wasn't ideal that a stranger knew her secret identity, she now knew that Tim wouldn't be spilling her secret to anyone, not when Marinette had the exact same dirt on him. "I'll see you around, Tim." Marinette whipped around and started to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait! Marinette!" Tim called out.

Marinette tried to suppress the smile on her face as she walked back into the banquet hall. She was beginning to like Tim, and she could tell that this wouldn't be the last she saw of him. Now, all she had to do was get on even footing with him. Perhaps, by figuring out his secret identity. Which, Marinette figured, wouldn't be too difficult. After all, how many superheroes could Gotham possibly have?

(Cut to: Marinette, back at her hotel room, trying to tell the different members of the Batfamily apart. "How do they all have black hair and blue eyes? How is that even possible?")

#maribat #timari #timinette #timari january #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Tim Drake #one-shot #miraculous ladybug fanfic #fanfic #my work

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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Prompt: “How did you- No, nevermind, I don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that" with... hmmmm.... Dick? Yeah, with Dick!

Real quick, I think a few of you misunderstood. When I say 3-from-1, I mean I am taking your single quote and pairing, and using it in all three prompts, not just one. Maybe this first one will help explain. Here are parts 1 and 2, since I think I’ve gone long enough without giving you guys content. I’m still working on the last part for this prompt, but it should be done soon!

— Part 1: The Romantic One (so Dickinette)

Tom and Sabine had decided that maybe a break from Paris was in order. Nobody could tell if it was the maniac turning random citizens into superpowered villains every other day, the fact that their daughter had come home with a few bruises that suggested extreme escalation on the side of her school bullies, or how they had caught said daughter asleep against her mannequin— standing up and drooling all over her expensive fabric.

Paris was clearly not a healthy place for Marinette at the moment, and a nice month-long vacation to Jump City was just what they needed. It was similar enough, with its villains and heroes, that they wouldn’t get too whiplashed by the long change in scenery. But it was also a lot safer than Paris was at the moment, and without nearly as many frequent large-scale villain attacks that ended with half the city in ruins as other places (looking at you, Gotham and Metropolis). The lack of villains that took advantage of civilian emotions was a plus.

Marinette, for one, was extremely grateful for the change. Sure, she still had to teleport back to Paris whenever an Akuma showed up, but Jump City was so much easier to relax in. And the ability to see the city’s heroes just walking around in full costume during the day, just relaxing, was an unexpectedly nice thing to experience. Marinette, as it turned out, happened to have a similar taste for places to hang out.

Now, she never spoke to them. She tended to just smile at the sight of them and go back to her own business— she knew how annoying it could be when people always invaded someone’s personal life just because they were well known. So when she saw them every now and then at the best arcade in town, or at one of the few vegan-friendly restaurants she liked? It brightened her day a bit, and she was pleasantly relaxed for quite a while afterwards. It was like, despite never actually approaching them, she was still among friends for once. People who understood everything she had gone through over the past several years since donning the Ladybug miraculous.

So yeah, she was enjoying her time in Jump City. So much so that her parents extended the trip indefinitely, and went through all the necessary paperwork to open a second location for their bakery in the city. They liked it there too.

That led to Marinette standing in line inside of the bank, right after getting all her own paperwork to attend school in Jump City in order. She was already exhausted from all the waiting and general boredom that followed doing anything official in America, and it was already past sunset to boot. The last thing she wanted was to be around when a villain attacked. The bank was already about to close and she didn’t know if they’d call her up in time for her to do what she needed to do.

And what happens? A blue-skinned magician with clear insanity and far too much of a resemblance to an Akuma to give her any sort of comfort comes bursting in and robbing the place. Marinette could only sigh, taking out her phone and informing her parents about the change in plans with all the ease of someone who was far too used to these kinds of things to be healthy. Luckily, the Teen Titans burst in only a few seconds later— must have been on a stake out, she thought.

Marinette put her phone away, deciding just to watch everyone in action. It was almost surreal, seeing such a large team fighting with such fluidity and lack of arguing. They seemed like such a perfect team, it made her envious. Only Chat was a good partner anymore, Marinette dreaded the days she had to find another temporary holder because nobody was a safe choice anymore. But the Teen Titans? They were a beautiful sight to behold.

That is, until Mumbo set his sights on her. The only civilian who wasn’t currently restrained, panicked, or hiding. Marinette blinked.

Oh, she thought. I must have been so tired I forgot to react to anything again.

But Marinette was also too tired to care much about first impressions, so the second Mumbo grabbed her arm and tried to use her as a hostage, she Reacted. The Teen Titans could only watch as Marinette jumped up and over Mumbo’s head, dragging his arm behind him in the process, before slamming her other fist into the small of his back and sending him onto his knees. As he tried to twist away, she kneed his wand out of his hand and twisted his other arm behind his back before he could cast another spell. Right before he could say some magic word and turn the tables on her, he was met with her head hitting the back of his and sending him unconscious immediately.

Problem handled, Marinette let go of him and backed off, dusting her hands off before letting loose a huge yawn.

She turned to leave when Cyborg’s hesitant voice Called out: “Uh, Ma’am? You should wait for the police. They’ll probably want your statement.”

Marinette blinked, and sighed as her shoulders dropped in dismay. “Oh yeah. I forgot I actually fought this time. Sorry,” she sighed again before adjusting her purse on her shoulder and obediently walking further inside the bank, leaning against the wall to wait. That was when Robin approached her, passing a few glances between her and the now-bound-up Mumbo.

"How did you- No, nevermind, I don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that,” he cut himself off mid-question, shaking his head. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s nothing all that special, Monsieur Robin,” Marinette assured, still amused. “And I’ve seen you do far more impressive things, I’m hardly that good of a fighter. My Maman has a background in martial arts, her whole side of the family has a minor obsession with teaching the girls how to fight,” she admitted with a small shrug. “It’s how we bonded, growing up. Every weekend she’d spar with me and we’d spend the whole day just training, and my Papan would bring food in every now and then when he wanted us to take a break. We don’t do it as often now, my Maman says she’s getting a little too old to spar all the time, but I still practice on my own.”

The vigilante blinked, not knowing how to respond for a moment. It was then that Marinette noticed the entire team had been listening, the police having already arrived and taking Mumbo away in cuffs. She blushed a bit, coughing into her hand in embarrassment.

“A-Ah, well. I wouldn’t have interfered at all if I wasn’t so tired, I’m sorry if I got in your way,” she began to babble, the usual nerves that came with having so many eyes on her kicking in. “I tend to space out when I’m exhausted, and so I kinda forgot to react when Mumbo came in? I just spaced out, and I got distracted watching you guys fight so well, and then he tried to grab me and I just… kinda… reacted?” Her voice got faster and higher as she spoke, until she ended her babbling by making it sound like a question. “I promise I won’t make this habit or anything, it’s just been a long day!”

“You…” It was Beast Boy who spoke up, eyes wide. “Did that while you were exhausted?! Woah! I’ve never seen anyone other than Robin fight like that when they were tired!”

Marinette knew her face must have been completely red by then, because it felt like her head was on fire. “I-it’s really not a big deal!” She started waving her hands in Marinette Denial, shaking her head like crazy. “P-probably just a fluke or something! I’ll just give my statement and get out of your hair!” She didn’t wait for a response before fleeing to the police out of sheer humiliation, and giving them the world’s fastest statement. The Titans tried to get her attention as she left, but her face was still one giant, ripe tomato and she just speed walked right past them without a word.

She didn’t even notice that she was followed home, or that she had a team of heroes watching her for a while before they completed their background search and left back for their own home. Or that Robin cast a glance back at her apartment several times as they left, questions crossing his mind too fast to recall all of them.

It wasn’t until a week later that Marinette saw them again, this time when she was at the grocery store. She let her shoulders drop when she saw them talking to each other in the middle of a random aisle, debating over which brand of a product to buy. Once again, a small smile crossed over her lips and she walked on by, fully intent on leaving them be and enjoying the aura of calm that their presence always seemed to give her. It was as she was calmly debating over which kind of fruit would make the best filling for the danishes she wanted to make, that a hand tapped her shoulder. She hummed, tearing her eyes away from the blueberries and raspberries to turn around.

“Yes? Do you need—“ she cut herself off when she saw that the person who had tapped her shoulder was none other than Robin himself, with the rest of his team giving her friendly smiles over his shoulder. She blue screened for a moment before shaking her head, sending him a small, confused smile. “Is there something you need, Monsieur Robin?”

“As a matter of fact,” he ran a hand through his unfairly fluffy hair as he gave her a far too charming, lopsided grin. “I hope you don’t mind that I did some research on you and your family after we met last week—“ Marinette almost laughed when she saw how his teammates face-palmed behind him and quietly groaned about how much tact he lacked. “—and I realized why your movements seemed so familiar. Your mother wouldn’t happen to be from the Cheng family in Hong Kong, would she?”

Marinette immediately lost most of her embarrassment, snorting. “You’re the one who did my background check, you tell me,” she teased. The rest of the Titans seemed floored by the fact that she wasn’t at all annoyed, insulted, or creeped out. “But since you’re asking anyway, yes. The group of primarily female martial artists in Hong Kong, the Chengs, is run by my Aunt. Why?”

Robin’s smile grew. “Well, it just so happens that they have one of the only unique combat styles that my mentor— Batman, of course— was never able to learn.”

Marinette actually did laugh now, connecting the dots as to what he wanted to actually ask. “Ah, because they only accept male pupils if they are blood-relations, non? Let me guess,” she crossed her arms and popped one hip, giving him a smug little grin. “You want me to teach you?”

“We have the best training facilities you have ever seen,” he bribed, eyes practically shining at the prospect of training in a new style of combat.

“I don’t doubt it,” Marinette got a little dreamy eyed herself at the thought. “And Maman can’t spar with me anytime soon… why not? I’m not bound by the Cheng rules after all, nobody can get mad if I teach you. And it requires a lot of gymnastic ability, which you clearly already have. Just one question,” she turned, gesturing to the fruit behind her. “Do you prefer blueberry or raspberry? I’m trying out a new danish recipe and don’t know which to choose.”

She did not miss how, as she was walking out with a few new acquaintances by her side and a few cases of blueberries, Cyborg whispered to Beast Boy:

“I can’t believe Robin actually picked up a girl when he led with the ‘we did an extensive check on your family history’ schtick!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slam! Marinette’s shin collided with Robin’s waist while they were both mid-air, sending the vigilante flying to the ground, tumbling until he could gain traction and stop himself. Marinette, on the other hand, landed on the padded floor of the training room nimbly.

“Not bad!” She praised. “You’re picking it all up really quickly!” Robin scoffed goodbye-naturedly, smirking as he stood up.

“If you didn’t restrict me to only using Cheng-style, I’d have won,” he boasted. Marinette’s eyes shone playfully at the challenge.

“Are you sure? I restricted myself to that style as well,” she teased. “It is the best way for you to learn, after all.”

As per usual, the rest of the Titans were nearby either doing their own training or snacking as they watched. Nobody left Marinette alone when she was at the Tower, which she understood. Apparently they had had someone betray them in the past, so she understood being cautious around her even if she had been teaching Robin twice a week for the past two months. Starfire floated up, flying over to tell them both about how much more exciting this spar had been than the last few, but the Tamaranean was interrupted when Marinette’s phone let out a loud alarm.

Being who they were, all the Titans stiffened and were immediately at alert. Marinette cursed softly, pulling out her phone to see—

“What’s an Akuma Alert?” Robin, ever the nosy idiot, asked. Marinette clenched her jaw. This was not good. It was only nine in the morning in Jump City, making it three in the morning back in Paris. Marinette had hoped he wouldn’t decide to have a late night attack when she was in Titan Tower and essentially trapped.

Marinette looked up from her phone, looking around as everyone’s gazes grew suspicious the longer she stayed silent. Until, finally, she sighed and silenced her phone. She began to speak even as she unzipped her purse to put it away.

“It’s an alert from Paris. I’m sorry, and I understand if you do not wish to see me after this, but I must go.”

“Go where? Paris?” Raven asked, sweeping up to stand next to Beat Boy. If this turned out to be another Terra situation, the boy would need support again. Terra had torn his heart out, and Beast Boy had finally allowed himself to like Marinette and get close to her as a friend. All of them had. “How?”

Marinette clenched her eyes shut, mourning the friendships she was sure she had just lost. Maybe she should stick to the opposite side of the city from then on, so they wouldn’t have to run into her again. With that plan in mind, she drew the magical pair of glasses out of her purse and put them on, making Kaalki materialize.

The Titans stiffened, and Marinette felt her heart shatter a little. But she still called on both of her transformations, and left to save Paris.

She did not go back to the Tower. When the battle was over, she just opened the returning portal straight to the alley outside her apartment and went back home to sob into her pillow. She couldn’t explain what was going on, wasn’t sure they would even want to listen. And she and Robin had been getting so close, too.

But Marinette would not stick around after keeping secrets. She was certain they hated her, anyway.

She went out of her way to avoid them, not even looking their way when they passed by her apartment— on purpose, she was sure. She did everything she could to avoid them. But one day, she couldn’t. She was in the middle of trying to lose them in the alleys on her way to go grocery shopping, when a wall of black cut her off, shadows moving to pile up dumpsters and block her escape. Marinette shrunk in on herself— so they were finally moving up to using their powers, huh?

She heard Starfire drop down to hover behind her next, then the sight of a green hawk landing on a balcony nearby gave away Beast Boy. Robin dropped down from a rooftop, and Cyborg pulled up in the T-Car to block the entrance of the alleyway.

“Marinette,” Robin started, but she shook her head and cut him off.

“Robin, I’m trying to stay out of you guys’s way. I get it, I kept secrets and that’s not cool, I’m not gonna interfere in your fights, you don’t have to worry about—“

“Friend Marinette, we are not angry,” Starfire spoke up, flying over to land next to her. She put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. Her eyes widened, and the smaller girl gulped.

“You… aren't?”

“We hacked into Paris news and street cams after you left,” Cyborg admitted, crossing his arms before giving her a wide smile. “Why didn’t you just tell us you were one of Paris’s heroes? Did ya think we wouldn’t understand or something?” Marinette froze, and then her face grew red when realization set in.

“... Oh Kwami. I’m freaking out about heroes finding out my identity… as a hero…” she groaned as soon as she said it, her head falling into her hands as her friends laughed around her.

“Guess I don’t need that plausible deniability for the reasons I thought,” Robin joked, making Marinette glare at him.

“Don’t tease me, I’m too busy being mortified.”

“Too busy for me to offer you a room at the tower?” He asked, and Marinette looked up to berate him for continuing to tease her, only to stop and realize that his expression said he was completely serious. Her eyes widened in shock once again, and she opened and closed her mouth only for her voice to not work. Robin smiled, holding out one of his hands to her.

“Just for whenever you need a break. Judging by your reaction, your parents don’t know about Ladybug, right?” Marinettte winced at his words. She gave them a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.

“No, back when we lived in Paris it was way too risky for anyone to know, even them. And now that we’re in Jump City, it’s been so long that…” she shook her head. “I don’t think they’d take it well.”

“Because they don’t understand,” Raven guessed, earning a nod and a small smile from the Parisian girl.

“And that’s why we’re offering you a room,” Robin continued, crossing his arms and giving her a confident, relaxed smile. “A temporary one, for whenever you need to drop by and be around people who understand you a bit better. Now, everything outside of the bedroom itself will still heavily monitor you for a while, but—“

“That’s fine!” Marinette agreed easily, beaming happily. “I get it, trust isn’t something that is easy to earn especially when it’s already been broken before. But the offer itself is already extremely generous, thank you!” Marinette lunged forward, tackling Robin in a tight hug. He laughed, returning the embrace.

“Dogpile!” Beast Boy yelled, of course transforming into a giant Saint Bernard as he leapt to start a group hug. His huge, furry body slammed Marinette and Robin to the ground, making them groan in pain and annoyance before Starfire picked all three of them up and started her own crushing hug. Followed by Cyborg wrapping his hands around the pile of superhero on the opposite side, and Raven… just kinda floating over to slump on top of the ball of teenaged heroes in the laziest hug ever.

Marinette didn’t stop laughing until her sides hurt.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had become a constant presence at the Tower, and Ladybug had even become an occasional member of the Team. She was officially labeled as a reserve member of the Titans, since her duties in Paris came first. But she was fine with that. She didn’t want to draw Hawkmoth’s attention to Jump City after all, but the few and far-between appearances she made weren’t too odd. It had already been a year and a half of her new life in America, on one of the weekends where Marinette found herself sprawled against the couch scrolling through Instagram on her phone, that everything changed. She heard the elevator door open, and took only a second to narrow down who it could be.

First; Kori was visiting Tamaran and wouldn’t be back for at least another week. Victor was working on the T-car and probably wouldn’t come back up for a while. Rachel was meditating, as always, and Marinette could still feel the magic aura from the floor above that told her that she had not moved a muscle. Gar was taking a literal cat nap on the kitchen counter. Only Robin was unaccounted for, since he had gone to Gotham to visit Batman for some “top secret Bat business” and could come back at any moment.

Deduction done, Marinette felt herself smile unintentionally. Her and Robin had become immeasurably close, and she had been pining after him for almost— well, since she first started training him all that time ago. So she sat up, ready to go attack her best friend and major crush in a hug.

“Welcome ba— WHAT THE FUCK?!” Marinette tripped over thin air like she hardly did nowadays, floored by the sight in front of her. Robin was a stickler for his identity, though the rest of the Titans weren’t really. She had never seen him out of uniform, including mask, in the entire time she’d known him. Never heard his real name.

But here stood a boy her age, with extremely familiar fluffy hair and strong jaw. Who seemed extremely conflicted and distraught, in a black hoodie and sweatpants. It was the glimpse of red and yellow under the fully zipped-up hoodie and the slip of black fabric he held in one tightly curled fist that solidified exactly who this blue-eyed beauty was. Marinette swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

Her yell had startled Garfield awake, who burst into his normal form and was staring at the scene equally wide- eyed. He made a few rapid gestures with his hands before choking out;

“I— I’m gonna… go see if Cy needs help,” before he scrambled away and into the elevator, flabbergasted. Robin didn’t say a word the whole time, just silently moving out of the way for the other boy.

Once Beast Boy was gone, the silence returned with stifling intensity. Marinette finally managed to clear her throat and get her thoughts in order.

“Are you okay?” She asked, because his well-being was more important than the fact that she was seeing his whole face for the first time. Because the fact that this was happening at all meant that something was probably very wrong. Just to make sure, she reached out with her Guardian abilities to read his aura— and yes, it was Robin. It couldn’t be anyone else.

But he didn’t look at all like their normally composed, erratic, confident leader. He looked like a young adult who had just had his world upturned and didn’t know how to manage it. He finally raised his eyes from the ground to meet her’s.

“... Batman got a new Robin… a while ago, apparently.”

Marinette sucked air through her teeth, grimacing. Yeah, that… that was a lot. “Come here,” she sat down and patted the couch next to her. “You clearly need to talk. We can even spar later if you want.”

He walked over, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “For once, I don’t think sparring will help. I mean yeah, I left Batman a long time ago because he wouldn’t take me seriously, but…”

Marinette understood. That was different than Batman giving his title to someone entirely new without even telling him. So she sat, and she listened as Robin explained all about his new adoptive brother, about the fight he had had with Bruce. Because apparently Batman was Bruce Wayne, but Marinette would shelve that headache for another day. At the end of it all, she hummed.

“Sounds like you need a new name then.”

“Mari,” Robin glared at her half heartedly. “That’s all you have to say? Really?”

“No,” she shrugged. “But I can’t keep calling you Robin, can I? But okay, you want me to be serious? It sounds like he was trying to do a good thing, getting Jason off the streets. Was he right to just give your moniker away with no warning? Of course not. But I don’t think he did it maliciously. If anything, I think this proves that Robin is a title for Batman’s sidekick to hold. And you’ve gotten way past that point in your life.”

“Well, for starters,” he said after a while. “My real name’s Dick.”

Marinette deadpanned at him, raising an eyebrow. “... I’m sorry, what?”

That got a snort out of him, and he smiled for the first time since he got back, running a hand through his hair again as he grinned at her. “Well, technically it’s Richard. Richard Grayson. But I prefer going by Dick.”

“Oh for the love of— good luck surviving Victor and Gar after you tell them that,” she warned, rubbing her temples at the mere thought of the chaos that was going to ensue. Rob— Dick— just laughed. But this time when he fell silent, Marinette didn’t immediately notice through her preemptive headache. But when she did, she looked up at him only to see him staring at her silently, an odd spark in his eyes. “What?”

“Well, if we’re admitting things and getting rid of secrets…” he started, leaning back a bit as his cheeks suddenly took on a pink tint. He cleared his throat, but met her eyes bravely. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while, Marinette. If, uh, if you want. To go out with me, I mean.”

Marinette sat there, out of order, for a moment as her brain refused to work. Dick panicked.

“I mean, I get it if you don’t. Dating in the team and all, probably not the smartest move ever. So I get it—“

“Shut up,” Marinette interrupted, her face entirely pink. “I just couldn’t talk for a sec. yes, Dick. A million times, yes I’ll go out with you. Holy crap how dare you catch me off guard like that you jerk,” she glared at him before the two of them broke, bursting into laughter and leaning on one another.

They had gone through a lot. If the others found them slumped against one another on the couch, asleep and still holding hands, well they deserved the rest after the day they’d had. Now whether or not they deserved the many photos that had been taken to be held as blackmail against them? That was up for debate.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 2: The same prompt, but siblings this time

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dickinette #3 from 1 challenge

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