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v4mptsuki · 3 years

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flirtations (i.matsukawa x reader)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: matsukawa is crushing on the reader, and he’s oblivious to her feelings for him despite her being oikawa’s childhood best friend

a/n, this isn’t proofread, so i apologize if there’s any typos!

mattsun felt a headache coming on. for the past half hour of the third year's hangout, oikawa had been unable to shut up about l/n y/n. as the group of boys roamed the streets, coffee cups in hand, oikawa went on his fiftieth rant of the day about her.

"isn't she just the sweetest iwa-chan? remember when she helped us practice last summer; she's so helpful. we should invite y/n-chan the next time we hangout. would you like that mattsu?" oikawa asked with a smirk.

mattsun rolled his eyes, "would that shut you up about her?"

oikawa tsked and took a sip of his drink, "now, now mattsu don't get all riled up. i'm just complimenting a friend."

"friend, right," mattsun muttered sarcastically.

y/n had known oikawa for years; ever since they were kids. oikawa's mom went to school with y/n's family, so the two kids had grown up together. mattsun knew it was only a matter of time until they ended up dating, and he hated how upset it made him. he'd been harboring feelings for y/n since their first year at aoba johsai, and they hadn't faded at all.

two knocks echoed through the matsukawa house, and mattsun could hear his mom answering the door. he'd been bed bound since he came down with a cold that morning, and he felt miserable.

"oh yes! he's in his room, i'm sure he'll be glad to see you!" his mom said to whoever was at the door.

mattsun expected makki to be the one entering his room, probably with his schoolwork and questions of where he'd been. instead, it was y/n, oikawa's friend. he had several classes with her, which was why oikawa introduced them. y/n was anxious about high school, since most of her junior high friends went elsewhere, so oikawa thought it would be good for her to know someone.

the two had grown to be good friends through all their shared classes, and mattsun really enjoyed her company. she was really kind, but she teased oikawa just as much as iwaizumi did. she was also smart, and she always helped mattsun with his work when he got lost in class. so, it shouldn't have shocked him that much to see y/n standing in his doorway with his homework in her arms.

the surprising part though, was that she'd brought him food too. she had a grocery sack from the corner store in one hand, and it seemed to be full of snacks. in her other hand, she had not only the homework, but her notes from the day too.

"hi, i heard you're sick," y/n greeted, still standing in the doorway, like she was waiting for permission to walk in.

mattsun smiled at her, "yeah, c'mon in."

y/n took a seat on the edge of his bed, and mattsun scooted his legs a bit so she would have more room.

"i brought the homework, and i thought you might like to have my notes. i took two copies, so you can keep these. i always get stressed when i miss school, because i hate falling behind, so i hope this helps you rest easier," y/n stated, a small smile on her face.

mattsun swore that in that moment he could feel himself falling for her. he'd thought she was pretty from the moment he laid eyes on her, and ever since oikawa introduced them, he'd grown fond of her personality too. it was then though, that he truly fell. the nonchalant way she cared about him, like it was nothing but the expected, made mattsun so incredibly happy.

"oh! i also brought you this," y/n added excitedly, placing the grocery bag gently on the bed.

mattsun sat up a bit, and y/n handed him the bag. inside was all his favorites. his favorite chips, candy, drink, and a carefully packaged cup of soup. the soup was even still warm, letting mattsun know she'd grabbed it on her way to his house.

"how did you know these are my favorites?" mattsun asked as he looked up at her, his eyes wide with delight.

"i asked oikawa. he said he asked your friend makki," y/n replied, clearly proud of herself for being so attentive.

"this is like the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. thank you y/n," mattsun said, making y/n duck her head bashfully.

"oh quit it, you're sick, i'm just helping it be less awful. anyways, do you want me to go over the notes with you? if you're tired i can go, but i just thought i'd offer," y/n said, trailing off near the end.

mattsun nodded quickly, a bit too eager to get her to stay.

"we can go over the notes! it'll probably, um, help me learn it better."

ever since that day, mattsun had been hopelessly devoted to her. every love confession that had come his way he'd denied, holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, y/n could like him back. oikawa had never helped his pining though. as the group of them had gotten older, oikawa had grown into a flirt, with y/n being his primary target. every day at practice, it was incessant, and it drove mattsun mad.

"this one's for you y/n-chan!" oikawa exclaimed with a wink in her direction before he served the ball flawlessly to the other side of the court during a mock game.

mattsun could hear y/n's laugh at his antics, and it just made him more sullen. as the day's practice wrapped up, y/n was quick to rush over to the boys.

"that was great guys. you really are improving a lot," she said with a bright smile.

"thank you! you're our number one cheerleader y/n," makki teased, throwing an arm over her shoulders and ruffling her hair.

y/n ducked out of his grasp and patted her hair down with a dramatic scowl.

"hands off my hair makki! that's why mattsu is my favorite," she teased, poking her tongue out before leaning into mattsun's side.

"you played great today too," she said, her voice lower, like the comment was just for him.

mattsun felt himself stiffen, suddenly unable to think of anything clever to say.

"oh, uh, thank you."

"y/n-chan!" oikawa called out as he exited the locker room, already changed out of his gym clothes.

y/n giggled, "see you around mattsu," she said before walking over to greet oikawa.

makki whistled once y/n had walked far off enough, and he clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"pussy," was all he said to mattsun, who just sighed.

"up your ass makki."

"toru i'm an idiot!" y/n exclaimed, flopping back on her best friend's bed.

he just laughed, and took a seat next to her.

"what else is new?"

y/n huffed and leaned over to shove him.

"not helping asshole."

"sorry, sorry, it's just hilarious how oblivious he is," oikawa said.

y/n nodded in agreement, and moved her head to rest in oikawa's lap.

"it's awful isn't it? i just don't know what to do. i try to talk to him, but he always seems pained to be around me. promise he doesn't hate me?" y/n asked, looking up at her friend.

"how could he hate you? precious little y/n-chan," oikawa teased, reaching down to pinch her cheeks.

she grumbled again and swatted his hand away.

"how do i get him to confess?" she wondered aloud.

"what if we made him jealous," oikawa suggested with a sly smirk.

y/n pursed her lips in thought, before an equally sly smile spread on her face. mattsun always did seem particularly irritated by her and oikawa's antics. besides, a jealous confession did sound pretty appealing to y/n.

"i'm down if you are toru," y/n said.

"perfect! so what will our story be? should i tell the boys you broke down in tears as you confessed your love for me?"

y/n grimaced, "absolutely not. i still want him to know i'm single dumbass. maybe just amp up the flirting tomorrow, and i'll dress extra cute."

"looking forward to it darling," oikawa said with a wink, making y/n roll her eyes.

the next day at practice, oikawa was insufferable. if his normal flirtations were a 7/10 on the mattsun-annoyance scale, this had raised it to at least an 11/10. y/n had entered practice in her cutest variant of the school uniform, and oikawa was quick to offer her his sweatshirt. he even helped her put it on, making mattsun glare at the pair from across the gym.

y/n sat on the bench close to the court, and oikawa shot a flirty remark at her after every cool move he pulled. every time he did, y/n would giggle and blush, and it made mattsun want to rip his hair out.

"my head is literally going to explode," he muttered to makki during a water break, with a scowl heavy on his face.

makki stifled a laugh, "just make a move already."

mattsun's scowl deepened, "no way. she's totally head over heels for oikawa. see, look."

he gestured over to the pair, where oikawa had joined y/n on the bench. he had an arm draped over her shoulder, and their heads were leaned into each other as they spoke in hushed voices. y/n glanced up, and her eyes met mattsun's, but he was quick to look away.

"did you see that, he was looking at us," y/n whispered to oikawa, a grin on her face.

"he's totally pissed," oikawa added excitedly.

y/n giggled, "this might actually work!"

oikawa got up and restarted practice, and a very sullen mattsun walked back onto the court. y/n kept her gaze trained on him as he walked, unable to look away from the way the jersey hugged his muscles. he glanced back, and their eyes met again, but this time y/n was the first to look away, a blush rising on her face.

practice continued on, with oikawa flirting with y/n every other minute. mattsun just seemed to get more and more irritated, and then, practice ended. oikawa headed straight to the locker room, as he always did. he'd always hated the sweaty feeling after practice, so y/n would normally just wait for him to change so they could go. today though, y/n asked oikawa to shower there too, so she would have more time to talk to mattsun without him around making mattsun jealous.

"hi guys! you all did great today," y/n greeted as she walked over to the three third years.

iwa smiled at y/n in thanks, "yeah, we're improving a lot."

"totally! especially you mattsu, you looked great out there today," y/n said with a smile.

mattsun seemed to tense up, and y/n mentally cursed herself. all she wanted to do was let him know she liked him, but every time she did he always seemed to get so uncomfortable.

"thank you y/n," he replied with an awkward smile, making y/n's heart drop.

"yeah, of course," she said with her own small smile.

there was a moment of silence before iwa bid everyone goodbye. most of the other years had left, leaving just y/n, mattsun, makki, and oikawa in the locker room.

"i think i'm gonna head out too, bye guys!" makki said, hurrying out of the room before mattsun could say anything to him.

y/n pursed her lips at that, since usually the two walked home together.

"waiting for oikawa?" mattsun asked y/n once makki was out the door.

"i guess. i also kinda wanted to talk to you," she added, her voice growing quiet.

mattsun's eyes widened and his gaze shot up to look at her.

"what?"

"yeah, i uh, wanted to chat with you. you know, i really like your company," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

mattsun didn't say anything back, he just stared at y/n with wide eyes. she felt a lump in her throat, but she bit back any emotions.

"sorry, i didn't mean to make this weird or anything," she added quickly.

mattsun blinked slowly, and then shook his head forcefully.

"no, no, not at all. i like spending time with you too. i just, i thought you and oikawa were like..." he trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud, but hoping y/n understood what he meant.

apparently she didn't, as her eyebrows scrunched up, "huh? what about me and toru?"

"nothing, i just..." mattsun took in a breath and shook his head, "nothing, never mind."

y/n frowned, but took a step closer to mattsun.

"what is it?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"i-"

mattsun wasn't sure what to say. y/n was standing barely a few inches away from him, and he was struggling to form a coherent thought. she tilted her head up to look him in the eyes, and he felt his face growing hot.

"you know i'm not dating toru," she said, her voice soft.

mattsun swallowed, "oh, really? i guess i just assumed..."

"well you assumed wrong," y/n replied, keeping her eyes on mattsun.

"oh," was all he could think to say, his mind too muddled for y/n's closeness.

she stayed there for a second longer, before she cleared her throat and took a step away.

"well yeah, we aren't dating. i don't plan on dating him either, he's too high maintenance for me," y/n joked, although she sounded a bit down.

mattsun just nodded, unsure of what to say. inside, he was beating himself up. she was right there, but he just couldn't do anything. she made him so nervous he lost all his confidence. it was basically torture, being so close to her, but unable to make a move.

"anyways, i think toru should be done by now. i guess i'll just wait for him outside," y/n flashed mattsun a small smile before swiftly heading for the gym doors.

"wait!" mattsun exclaimed before he could think better of it.

y/n turned around, her eyebrows raised.

"what's up?"

"um, fuck, don't go yet. i guess now's a good time to tell you i, uh, i really like you."

once mattsun started his confession, he couldn't stop the word vomit that followed.

"ever since you brought me the notes when i was sick during first year, i thought you were the nicest girl ever. i still do, by the way, you're just so sweet and pretty, and fuck i'm rambling. i just, i like you a lot, and i thought you should know. i guess."

mattsun felt his face heating up as he awkwardly went to scratch the back of his neck. y/n just stood there, a shocked look on her face. mattsun was just about to stutter out an apology for making things weird, when she rushed forwards. her arms wrapped around mattsun's neck, and she let out a relieved laugh.

"oh thank goodness! i was so worried you didn't like me that way, it was killing me you idiot!" y/n breathed out, her face pressing into mattsun's neck.

"wait what?" mattsun replied, pulling away from her embrace.

she moved one of her arms to flick his forehead, a grin taking over her face.

"i like you too!" she exclaimed.

mattsun broke into a grin of his own, and just as he was about to pull y/n back into him, oikawa exited the locker room. his hair was dripping wet, implying he'd taken a shower, and mattsun could've smacked him across the face.

"toru guess what!" y/n called out as oikawa headed over to the pair.

based on oikawa's smirk, he already knew what she was going to say.

"what is it y/n darling?"

"he likes me back," she replied smugly, stretching on her tip toes to kiss mattsun's cheek.

"yes i do," mattsun muttered, just for y/n to hear, making her smile stretch even wider.

#v4mponeshot #v4mpfluff #matsukawa issei #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa x you #matsukawa x y/n #issei mattsun #mattsun x reader #mattsun x y/n #mattsun x you #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa oneshot #mattsun fluff #haikyuu fluff

188 notes · View notes

rosemarypasta · 4 years

Text

self portrait ♡

➤ pairing : tsukishima kei x yamaguchi tadashi

➤ warnings : the tiniest amount of angst

➤ tags: college roommates!AU, art student yamaguchi, business student tsukishima, unrequited love

➤ summary : Tsukishima Kei was forced to move in with his best friend and long time crush, Yamaguchi, so he could attend the univesity he wanted in Tokyo. He thought he could surpass his feelings and live his life normally just like in high school but what he didn’t know was that living with the person you’re in love with, makes falling much more easily. Especially if that person is Yamaguchi.

➤ word count : 4863

♡ masterpost ♡

“That should be the last of em’!” Yamaguchi finally announced as he set the seventh cardboard box down in the middle of the barren living room. He stretched his arms out and sighed in relief, turning suddenly with a grin flashed across his cheeks towards his new roommate as a celebration.

Tsukishima grumpily set the box he had in his arms down, proceeding to massage his back with the heel of his palm, “We still haven’t unpacked, Yamaguchi, isn’t it a bit early for a celebration?”. His best friend pouted at the reality check he was just given and collapsed onto the still bubble-wrapped couch out of exhaustion.

Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi were childhood friends who met in primary school. They then proceeded to go to the same middle schools and high schools together. They practically spent the majority of their lives together. They played in the same volleyball teams, went to school together, walked back home together, and grew up beside each other. Though they cared a lot for each other, surely they would go their separate ways eventually right? Finally having such distinct differences in the majors they wanted to take, everyone in Tsukishima’s and Yamaguchi’s lives thought that university would be the wedge that finally separates the two. Well...everyone except their mothers.

“What do you mean I can’t go to Tokyo?” Tsukishima’s eyes widened at the unexpected answer his mother gave him. He approached his mother with the topic of moving out to Tokyo so he could attend the university he wanted. He addressed the topic as if he was asking for permission but he thought it would just be a formality.

“What? Why not? I managed to get a scholarship that’ll give me an allowance for my living costs so it’ll cost you nothing! Besides, Akiteru moved out for university so why can’t I do the same?” Tsukishima spoke rapidly, his fists were balled up tight but he still attempted his best to keep his composure, not wanting to create even more awkward tension in front of his guests.

“C-calm down, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi stammered, looking as shocked as his own mother at his out of character outburst. The two coincidentally were interested in universities in Tokyo. Though they would be attending different schools, their universities were within walking distance. Yamaguchi was unsure how his mother would react to his only son moving out so Tsukishima came up with the idea to tell their parents together to hopefully soften the blow of Yamaguchi’s mother’s outrage however, reality seems to turn out the opposite to their predictions. Yamaguchi’s mother, who was predicted to freak out instead, was so moved by her only son’s decision to be independent that she started crying tears of joy after the two announced their planned departure. On the other hand, Tsukishima’s mother who was supposed to be playing the supporting role and calming down Yamaguchi’s mother turned out to be the one in need to calm down.

“You’re pretty much still a child! I will not approve!” Tsukishima’s mother scowled at her youngest child. “What do you mean?! Akiteru moved out the same exact age as me!” He argued back. The two blondes bickered back and forth in their dining room, leaving their two green-haired guests exchanging glances and clueless on what to do.

“I-If you’re so worried about Kei-kun being alone, Tsukishima-san, why not have the boys move in together? Surely it would be better, no?” Yamaguchi’s mother, being the conflict-avoiding woman she has always been, suggested to her friend in an attempt to cut the tense air in the Tsukishima household. The blonde mother looked at the green-haired mother’s soft expression with a baffled one on her face.

Though, despite the prior opposition, Tsukishima did get to attend the university he wanted with the help of the Yamaguchi family, to which he will always be grateful for, however, he wasn’t sure if the conditions he had to agree to was something to be thankful for.

“Ah! That should be the pizza. I’ll get it!” Yamaguchi’s head shot up from the couch as the doorbell echoed throughout the cluttered apartment. He got up in an instant and twirled towards the door to tend to the delivery man, finally leaving Tsukishima alone with his thoughts for the first time that day. Tsukishima sank onto the floor and buried his face into his knees, his pale hands covering his beet red ears. He was more than thankful that he was able to go to the university he wanted which coincidentally happened to be in the same area with the university his childhood best friend was attending but there was just a slight problem.

He was madly in love with him.

Tsukishima wondered how long it had been. Ten? Five years? He didn’t know exactly when he started liking Yamaguchi but he was sure that he realized his feelings during his first year of high school. It was the time Yamaguchi was brought in as a pinch server in one of their volleyball matches. He attempted the jump float serve he has been working so hard on and succeeded, breaking the gloom atmosphere the Karasuno volleyball club had around on their shoulders. Everyone’s eyes lit up as a point was added to Karasuno’s scoreboard but none of their eyes lit up as bright as Yamaguchi’s. His brown eyes glistened under the gym lights and his lips were pressed to the biggest smile Tsukishima has ever seen. Everyone on the court rushed to pat and praise Yamaguchi but in order to keep his overexcited heart in between his ribs, all Tsukishima could say at that moment was “Give us another one.”

“Tsukki, you okay?” Yamaguchi’s soft voice startled him. “Yeah i’m fine, just got a bit dizzy.” Tsukishima murmured before rising up and taking a seat beside his best friend on the unwrapped couch before shortly taking a slice of pepperoni pizza, hoping his complexion no longer showed the embarrassing and unwanted red hue.

In the midst of their well-deserved lunch, Tsukishima caught his eyes constantly wavering towards Yamaguchi, watching him stuff his freckled cheeks with food, his eyes glimmering with satisfaction. Tsukishima tried his best to get rid of his worries. Besides, they have been friends for so long and pretty much spent every waking hour together and everything has been alright up to then. Surely, it would be fine living under the same roof as him right?

But oh boy, was he wrong.

Shortly, the semester starts for the roommates. Being drowned in responsibility and exhaustion from his new surroundings, Tsukishima was impressed with his brain’s capability to still think about Yamaguchi despite his busy schedule. Even when he was in class, cramming for a test, around his new friends, Yamaguchi still occupied his mind. Though, he didn’t blame his brain for doing so since the blame fell onto someone else’s hands.

“I’m home.” The blond business major sighed as he wiggled his shoes off before stepping onto his shared hallway. “Ah! Tsukki, welcome back!” Yamaguchi’s head popped out, his pristine smile on his face as always. Tsukishima’s head shot down, attempting to hide his flushed cheeks. It has been a couple of months since they moved in together but Tsukishima can’t bring himself to get used to the warm welcome his roommate keeps giving every time he comes back home. Tsukishima being a business major, he constantly has group projects and on a daily basis has to meet up with his teammates to discuss the assignments after class so Yamaguchi was always home first which means his signature “Welcome back!” Was inevitable to the blond.

“I made curry so help yourself.” Yamaguchi hummed, pointing to the kitchen counter before residing back to the living room corner which was reserved just for him. Tsukishima tossed his bags on his bed, walked back to the kitchen to pick up a spoon and dug into the bowl filled with rice, not bothering to heat it up. He viewed as Yamaguchi went over to pick up the messy palette and paintbrush he just set aside to greet his roommate and sat back down on his stool, facing the easel.

Tsukishima examined the half-done canvas from the kitchen whilst spooning his dinner in his mouth. It wasn’t fully finished but Tsukishima could make out what his crush was trying to express. It was a figure of a boy in mid air, his back arched and his hand was on the same level as his head, parallel to the tri-colored ball which was the centerpiece of the canvas. Tsukishima was no art snob but he could assume it was a painting of Yamaguchi himself.

“A new assignment?” Tsukishima started, shuffling behind his friend who had his back hunched towards the easel. “Yeah, the professor told us to create a work that showed our most important memory of our high school life so...I picked volleyball!” He enthusiastically answered though his face never left the canvas. His fingers were wrapped around a dainty detail brush. He shakily brushed it up and down, trying to add detail to the hair of the subject.

The blond studied the painting with deeper interest, impressing himself as he paid more attention to the minor details of the painting with his half eaten curry still in his hands. Tsukishima knew Yamaguchi always liked drawing. His notebooks were always covered with doodles and he remembered Yamaguchi was always drawing whenever Tsukishima dropped by his house to play when they were still young.

“You’re really good.” Tsukishima unconsciously mumbled, his mind still deep in thought with the painting upfront. “You think so? I think I got pretty rusty ever since we entered high school.” Yamaguchi casually replied to his comment to which Tsukishima flinched at. He didn’t realize he was speaking his thoughts out loud.

Tsukishima disagreed with Yamaguchi’s opinion. He always knew Yamaguchi liked art but he never knew he was this talented and passionate about it until the last year of high school when Hinata randomly brought up the topic of university after practice. There Yamaguchi confessed he wanted to take up fine arts after high school. His eyes always shined when he talked about art. Tsukishima admired the passionate part Yamaguchi had. He envied that he had something he liked so much unlike himself, who took up business just because his father suggested it to him. He didn’t even feel a big drive to continue volleyball after highschool so he abandoned the thought of pursuing anything related to it despite having spent half his life playing the sport.

Tsukishima was about to turn and take a shower but a certain figure on the left side of the painting caught his eye. He couldn’t believe he missed it after staring at the painting for more than ten minutes. On the corner of the canvas stood another figure aside from Yamaguchi’s, standing. The figure had his hands together as if it was clapping. The figure was painted in similar colors to the background, it’s blond hair almost seamlessly blending into the warm background but thankfully, the figure had a pair of black glasses on which made it noticeable.

His heart skipped a beat as he realized that his best friend had incorporated him into a painting that supposedly portrayed his most important moment of his high school years. Tsukishima rushed into the shower in a hurry. He shut the door behind him and let himself melt onto the ground, rationalizing his thoughts. He was Yamaguchi’s best friend so naturally, he was a part of his high school years and he was also in the same volleyball team. But so was Hinata and Kageyama, who he had grown close to and they were much more encouraging to him on court so why weren't they there too? He remembered that his painting was only half done and Yamaguchi will surely add them in right?

Days passed and Yamaguchi didn’t add Hinata and Kageyama into the painting. Though, it seems like his deadline was being unreasonable so he rushed to complete it to the best of his ability. Tsukishima didn’t know whether to be comforted or bothered by the possibility of his first assumption so he pushed his complicated feelings away.

“Nice work, Megane-kun! See you in class.” The rooster-haired upperclassmen yelled out after Tsukishima had already begun to walk away from the cafe he just spent three hours in for yet again, another group project. He began to walk home under the navy blue sky with a half empty to-go-cup of coffee. He was exhausted. Every limb on his body ached and his eyes feel strained from working on his laptop for so long. All he wanted to do was go back home and embrace Yamaguchi so his exhaustion could just melt away but he guessed that would be impossible to do so he settled on just looking forward to looking at him. He let his eyes wander off to watch the various shop fronts he passed by, in an attempt to find a bakery or some sort to buy desserts from in the future when he was going through rough days such as this one but his eyes unexpectedly spotted his green-haired roommate he was so looking forward to meeting back home.

Tsukishima rubbed his eyes from under his glasses and examined the bustling crowd his roommate was a part of. It was no mistake, it was Yamaguchi. Tsukishima was about to approach him before the crowd of shoppers dispersed and revealed the person Yamaguchi was walking side by side with. Tsukishima’s eyes widened as he recognized the short blonde girl his crush was walking with. “Y-Yachi?” He said in disbelief under his breath. He watched as the pair of his high school friends laughed and talked together from across the street. Naturally, if he were Kageyama or Hinata, the logical choice after seeing his two close friends out on the streets was to catch up with them and greet them but Tsukishima’s eyes watched as Yamaguchi giggled at the blonde. He was smiling a bit too much and his cheeks were flushed red.

Tsukishima rushed home with gritted teeth. He was upset. But he didn’t know if he had the right to be. What was he so upset about? Yamaguchi hanging out with Yachi? It wasn’t like Tsukishima was dating him, he didn’t belong to Tsukishima. He doesn’t deserve to be jealous. Tsukishima opened the door to the empty apartment. Some part of him hoped that he saw wrong and whoever he saw on the street wasn’t Yamaguchi but alas, the stool Yamaguchi always sat in the corner of the living room was empty and the lights were all off. Tsukishima dropped his bags on the corner of the hallway and staggered over to the couch, collapsing with heavy breaths, exhausted from running back home.

And as Tsukishima dreaded, the front door clicked open after a handful of minutes, shortly followed by a bright “I’m home” from Yamaguchi. Tsukishima watched as Yamaguchi walked into the living room, hung his coat and scarf on the coat hanger and plopped down right beside Tsukishima without a care in the world, oblivious to his mentally deteriorating roommate. “Why were you late?” Tsukishima managed to say, his thoughts still in a jumble. “Oh, I stayed back in the studio to work on my sculpture assignment,” He answered, stretching his arms sideway, “I know you hate the smell of clay so…” So was he about to forget mentioning who he was with? Tsukishima knew Yachi went to the same art university as Yamaguchi but he was sure she belonged to a different major than Yamaguchi. Besides, a graphic design student like her wouldn’t deal with sculptures so why would she be together with him in the sculpting studio that was specialized for fine art students? Tsukishima sighed and accepted reality. It was silly to begin with to have a crush on Yamaguchi anyway.

“Ah, Tsuk-“ Yamaguchi started but got shortly cut by the blond, “I’m taking the shower first.” Tsukishima stood up abruptly, power walking towards their shared bathroom with a lump in his throat. Tsukishima slammed the door behind him, leaving his roommate in utter confusion.

“Never mind I guess.” Yamaguchi mumbled to himself.

Yamaguchi knew Tsukishima wasn’t the warmest person, at least on a surface level. He was always known to be salty and unapproachable to everyone but he knew he never meant it to be malicious or anything so Yamaguchi had grown accustomed to his personality but the following week was something unlike anything he has ever experienced.

Everyday, Tsukishima would come home and go straight to his room. No snarky comments on Yamaguchi’s paintings and no complaining about his day while lounging on the couch, which he claimed to be more comfortable than his own bed. And at meal times, he just sat and ate his food in silence, always a frown present on his face. And at times when it was Yamaguchi’s turn to cook, he didn’t say anything, even though he always had something to say before, whether it was a good job or not. Watching his own best friend act like that didn’t sit right at all with Yamaguchi so he only had one thing to do left.

Spoil the hell out of him.

Attempt number one, museum tickets.

“Tsukki! Look, I got museum tickets! Lets go this weekend.” Yamaguchi brust in Tsukishima’s room. “Where’d you get it?” Tsukishima’s expression is still as cold as ever. “Er, Akaashi-senpai gave them to me!” Yamaguchi lied. He had sacrificed his allowance money from buying new paint brushes to buy the tickets. He knew if he told Tsukishima that he bought it with his own money he risked him calling it dumb, even though he liked museums, or Tsukishima feeling even more down that Yamaguchi had to spend his frugal university student money on the tickets.

“What ever.” He said but went along anyway. Though Yamaguchi was proud of himself of dragging Tsukishima out to the museum at first, Tsukishima’s mood unexpectedly didn’t improve much during the visit. His eyes occasionally lit up when he examined the dinosaur exhibits but they were only momentary and disappeared in a split second everytime Yamaguchi initiated a conversation.

Yamaguchi went home in defeat.

Attempt number two, curing his possible homesickness.

“Tsukki! Look who came to visit!” Yamaguchi’s voice bounced off the walls in excitement as he opened the door one Friday of a three-day weekend. “Pardon the intrusion.” Kageyama and Hinata said as they shook their shoes off prior to entering the apartment. Tsukishima’s head peeked out to the hallway and his eyes widened at the sight of his two friends from high school. Yamaguchi watched as the usual wrinkle in between Tsukishima’s eyebrows disappeared when he recognized his two friends. Yamaguchi knew though Tsukishima doesn’t show it at all, he was very fond of being around Hinata and Kageyama so surely it would improve his mood which he was right about. Tsukishima had, for the first time a week, finally spent time outside his own room aside from mealtimes. The apartment finally filled with laughter and bickering. Colors seemed to be restored when the oddball duo graced their presence and Yamaguchi was about to give himself a pat on his back before the last guest arrived.

Tsukishima, who was in the middle of laughing at Hinata’s story, froze immediately as he saw the former club manager walk into the living room as the rest of the guest cheered at her arrival. Though his behaviour for the latter half of the day seemed normal to the rest of his friends, Yamaguchi knew his attempt had once again failed.

Yamaguchi sighed as he walked home from a five hour studio session. His hands felt grimy and dry from touching clay too much, which didn’t help soothe his mind from thinking about his depressed roommate.

He was about to turn to the street where his apartment was at but the bright lights of a certain shop caught his attention. Yamaguchi cursed at himself for not thinking of this plan ages ago. Without skipping a beat, Yamaguchi crossed the road in glee, excited with the plan he just came up with.

“Tsukki! Look what I got!” Yamaguchi gushed with excitement as soon as he opened the front door, not bothering to do his usual greeting. He kicked his shoes off in millisecond and almost tripped on his way to the kitchen, to where Tsukishima was standing, confused, with a glass of water in his hand. “What?” Yamaguchi took a second to catch his breath, having just run the whole way home from the bakery.

“I got…” Yamaguchi struggled to start, his breath still short, “cake!” Yamaguchi exclaimed with the biggest smile he could make but it was too early to celebrate.

Yamaguchi’s eyes roamed Tsukishima’s face, studying every movement his features made. And after holding his breath a bit too hard for ten seconds, he sighed the hardest he has ever done in relief as he watched Tsukishima’s eyes softened up and the crooks his lips angled up ever so slightly.

“Alright! I’ll go set them on a plate!” Yamaguchi squealed, setting the box of cake on the kitchen counter but before he could even reach the cabinet that stored the plates, his excitement made him trip on his own foot.

“Yamaguchi? Watch ou-“

Yamaguchi closed his eyes tight, expecting to feel a sharp pain in the coming seconds but instead, his head was created by a soft thud instead of the cold kitchen tile. Yamaguchi’s eyes fluttered open to be greeted with a very close up view of a pastel green fabric that seemed like it was part of the hoodie Tsukishima was just wearing. Yamaguchi’s brown eyes trailed up to see Tsukishima’s face wincing, his hand rubbing the back of his back, which was inches from the floor. Yamaguchi’s eyes trailed back down to see his very own hand on Tsukishima’s chest. Embarrassed from just falling and the inappropriate placement of his hand, He hurriedly retracted his hand and body from Tsukishima.

“T-Tsukki! I am so sorry!” Yamaguchi stammered, expecting Tsukishima to be furious but instead, Tsukishima’s face was bright red. Confused and worried, Yamaguchi brought his hand up towards the blond’s forehead, “Tsukki? Do you have a fever?”

Tsukishima slapped Yamaguchi’s hand instinctively, his cheeks only getting redder and redder as seconds went by. “D-Don’t touch me.” He breathed, he could feel his ears burning. Tsukishima watched as Yamaguchi’s face contorted to a mix of emotions. Confusion, pain, and embarrassment. Tsukishima knew he had literally nothing to lose then. He had gotten rid of whatever was left of Yamaguchi’s kindness when he hit his hand away so it was all or nothing.

“S-stop being so nice to me,” He began, his voice cracking, “or I’ll fall in love with you even more.” His voice was weak though he braced for the end of his friendship with his childhood best friend. Yamaguchi’s eyes widened in surprise. Tsukishima wasn’t sure if it were just plain shock or disgust but he felt like it was definite that it was a mix of the two. Tsukishima bit his lip, trying to suppress his tears from falling, and got up. “I know it’s disgusting right? A man falling in love with you, especially because you have a girlfriend but I understand if you don’t want to live with me anymore. I-I’ll grab my things.” He forced himself to say, his voice cracking all over the place. Tsukishima didn’t blame Yamaguchi. It was his fault after all. He should’ve never lived with him and listened to his mother rather than pursuing his selfish wishes to study in Tokyo. It was a natural reaction to be disgusted anyway.

“W-Wait! What are you talking about? It’s not disgusting!” Yamaguchi’s frail voice finally shouted out, just in time before Tsukishima left the kitchen. Tsukishima’s head whipped back to stare at the boy on the ground with wide eyes.

“What?” He breathed.

Yamaguchi pulled his body up, gripping the kitchen counter hard. “I said...” His voice gradually grew stronger as he staggered closer to the baffled blond. “It's not disgusting!” The usually timid green haired boy yelled before launching himself onto his taller friend, impulsively planting his lips onto the other’s lips.

Yamaguchi’s leap caused Tsukishima and him to fall over once again but Yamaguchi slipped his hand behind Tsukishima’s head right on time before the blond’s head hit the floor. His hand stung upon the forced contact with the floor but at that moment, he felt no pain as his heart was being filled with content.

The kiss wasn’t deep or sensual, rather, it was long and sweet, which perfectly mirrored the relationship the two shared. Though, the more realistic reason why neither of the two have slipped their tongue in was because of the lack of experience both parties had. Though he did not want to, Yamaguchi pulled out from the kiss, gasping for air, to which his partner did the same.

Realizing their mistake, Yamaguchi burst into fits of laughter to which Tsukishima raised an eyebrow at, still out of breath. Yamaguchi rested his forehead on Tsukishima’s chest, “We forgot to breathe huh?” He giggled, his cheeks beet red, just like the boy he was on top of.

That night, the two childhood friends snuggled up under a blanket and talked to their heart's content with plates of cake in their hands. Having isolated himself in his room for extended periods of time, Tsukishima forgot how much he missed talking to Yamaguchi. But not only can he now talk to Yamaguchi, he can do it without fearing falling in love with him since now, he was allowed to. A warm smile crept onto Tsukishima’s face as he watched Yamaguchi take his final bite from the strawberry shortcake slice he bought earlier.

“Wait, so that’s why you thought I was dating Yachi-san? And that’s also why you started avoiding me?” Yamaguchi managed to say without letting a single laugh slip in between his lips, trying not to make Tsukishima more flustered as he is since he wanted to catch up on everything he had been missing from. “Y-Yeah.” The blond pouted, bundling the blanket tighter around his body. Yamaguchi’s eyes widened at the sight. He loved the way every time Tsukishima got flustered he always pouts and lowers his head down slightly. Of course, it only happens once in a blue moon and Yamaguchi has only seen him like that for a whopping total of three times for the whole time they’ve been friends, and he was like that for all three times so he was sure it was a habit of his.

“God! Tsukki, you’re the cutest!” Yamaguchi squealed, throwing his body at the blond’s, causing the two to collapse on Yamaguchi’s bed.

He had to explain what actually happened to Tsukishima, which was he really did coincidentally bump into Yachi on the way home from the studio. He also confessed that he was blushing madly that day with Yachi because he was talking about Tsukishima.

Yamaguchi never knew Tsukkishima was the type to get jealous easily. He found it very much endearing.

“So since when were you in love with me?” Yamaguchi enquired the blond, he took his time teasing his roommate while he was in a vulnerable moment since he knew how rare it was for Tsukishima to be like that.

“Three years maybe? It was around inter-highs.” The blond answered with a pout. “What about you?”

“W-what?”

Yamaguchi’s teasing demeanor vanished immediately. He wiped his smug face off and buried his face into the shared blanket. “Hmm? now someone’s being shy huh?” Yamaguchi hated how fast it took for the roles to reverse.

“Shnczezaeymedu” He soft whispers muffled from the blanket he covered his mouth with.

“Hmm? Come again? I didn’t catch that.” Tsukishima’s voice as condescending as ever, poking the sides of Yamaguchi’s waist with his index finger through the thick blanket.

“S-Since the day I first met you!” Yamaguchi yelled out of embarrassment, his face was so red that his freckles were barely noticeable. Tsukishima’s eyes widened in surprise. He always thought he was the first to catch feelings and he knew how hard it was to keep a crush a secret. How have Yamaguchi kept his feelings hushed down for all these years?

Tsukkishima had a lot of questions and he was sure they could last a lifetime. He had a lot of emotions running through his veins but he was sure a big majority was joy. And he could not contain it for much longer.

Tsukishima shot up and pounced his boyfriend, planting a kiss on his lips and throwing all his composure out the window. He didn’t care how stupid or love struck he looked. He had his everything in his arms and that’s all that matters to him now.

“I love you, Tadashi.” Tsukishima managed to say, trying to not make his voice crack as tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

“I love you too, Kei.”

#tsukkiyama #tsukkiyama ff #tsukiyama #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #kei tsukishima #tadashi yamaguchi #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu!! ff #haikyuu ff #haikyuu au #tsukishima kei x yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima x yamaguchi #anime #fluff #yamaguchi x tsukishima #tsukki

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

Chapter 25 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

~|Emily Fox|~

The boys and I have spent every waking hour together, working on music, working on the band. The dark void in my heart having been filled up by these three wonderful dorks and our music. While I’m building up my idea of a new future again, the boys have been building me up; giving me more confidence in my singing and my being. They supported me with every thought or idea I had about what college to go to or what idea I had for the band. Anything I said, the boys were 100% behind. It’s rewarding and refreshing to find a group of people to vibe off of so easily, especially after being a time apart and realizing how big of an impact they make on your life. It’s brought life back into a world that has crumbled apart. “That sounded tight, you guys!” I say, high-fiving Jeremy when we call in a break on rehearsals. “I can’t wait to play these songs live!” The boys chuckle while putting away their instruments or, in Owen’s case come from behind their instrument. “If we ever book a gig again,” Owen says solemnly. “Don’t give up hope, you guys. I’m sure we’ll book something soon,” I reassure them, and myself. Besides the Open Mic Night, we haven’t had the opportunity to play anywhere. Mostly because I was coped up in my room, crying all the time, and didn’t see the band for a good week. But you know… Still sucks. “Yes. You. Will!” Mitch’s voice resounds in the store. I hadn’t even heard the bell over the door ring; we were too busy chatting about gigs and rehearsals. “I think I might have a gig for you, Muffin.” He holds up a piece of paper, smiling smugly. “At the Orpheum,” he replies. I glance over at my bandmates to check if they heard it too. Judging by their bulging eyes and surprised glances, I’m sure they did. “Albeit it’s a school event, but you know… Still the Orpheum!” “What’s the gig exactly?” I ask, urging him to elaborate. “Bobby’s old school is holding a benefit. At first, they wanted to just do it in the school, but they booked a lowkey famous band and sold so many tickets, they can’t pack them all in the gym. And they’re looking for a band to open for them. You want me to make a call? I think you being Bobby’s niece will help us out a little.” I look up at the boys to see what they’re thinking. They’re eyes are sparkling like never before. The Orpheum has been a dream since they were Sunset Curve. “Please, try!” I tell Uncle Mitch. He grabs his phone and dials a number. The boys come closer to me as we watch Mitch in anticipation. We just hear a lot of ‘yes’ and hums until Mitch hangs up. “What did they say?!” I ask impatiently when he’s not telling us anything for an agonizing minute. Mitch almost looks upset, like he doesn’t want to disappoint either of us. “EMILY AND THE FOXES IS PLAYING THE ORPHEUM, BABY!!” He shouts really, really loudly. The four of us burst out into cheers and happy jumps and high fives. Without thinking twice about it, I grab Charlie’s face in my hand, staring into his eyes, and yelling, “THE ORPHEUM, CHARLIE!” When I realize how close we are, I slowly let go. For a while, we just look at each other until Jeremy and Owen make us snap out of the trance. That night, we celebrate in Jeremy’s garage with pizza, a movie and just each other’s company. My heart is full.

“Your VIPs are here,” Amanda, the showrunner, tells us as she knocks on the door of our dressing room. Today is the day; we’re playing a gig at the Orpheum. The gig we’ve been practicing all day and night for. “Come in!” I shout and get ready to greet Mitch, Madi and Charlie’s and Jeremy’s parents. Instead, I find my parents head in first, followed by two people I don’t know. They’re around my parents’ age. Neither of them seems too happy to be here either. “Mom? Dad?” I hear Owen say as he joins me at the door. “Surprise!” Madi and Mitch say at the very same time, showing off jazz hands. “Y—You… What? Huh?” Owen stutters and stumbles over his words, not sure what to say. I know they don’t have the greatest relationship either. He must be as surprised, if not more, as me. “Your Uncle Mitch called us,” mom starts with a small, careful smile on her face. “He caught us up on everything and told us about your show tonight…” dad continues. “We didn’t believe our little girl was playing the Orpheum!” I glare at my mother. “I thought you didn’t want to support my music career?” I ask, gritting my teeth. “We didn’t at first… But you have to know, Princess, we’re very proud of how far you’ve come,” says dad, placing his hands on mother’s shoulders. “Yeah, I came this far without you. Instead of you supporting me and believing in me from the start, I had to turn to my uncles. They didn’t choose to take care of me, but they did anyway. They love me and support me with everything I do.” Mitch gives me an appreciative smile. “I came this far because of Madi being by my side every single moment of every day I was angry and sad about my own parents not even loving me enough to be behind me 100%.” She grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I came this far because of Charlie, Jeremy and Owen. They all became my family who supported me and cheered me up and comforted me because my own family couldn’t even do that for them.” I turn to Owen’s parents. “With all due respect, misses and mister Joyner, but your son is the most amazing and thoughtful person I have ever met. He’s been like a brother to me, and I can’t believe you as his family would ever do to him what you did to him. So, I’m sorry…” I turn back to my own parents. “But unless you’re all 100% behind us, I want you to leave.” “Emily…” Owen starts, but his father interrupts him. “No, she’s right, Owen. We should’ve been there for you and listened to you to learn about your world. We shouldn’t have reacted the way we did and we’re so sorry…” “We’re really proud of who you’ve become, Owen,” his mom chimes in, “Because you’re proud of who you are and everything you’ve achieved all by yourself. So, I hope you find it in your heart to forgive your old folks?” Owen glances at me, and after I’ve given him an encouraging smile, he launches forward and embraces his parents. My heart swells at the sight. “Emily…” my mother captures my attention. “Please, let us stay? We really are sorry for what we did to you. We should’ve never kicked you out. We should’ve never doubted you could make something of yourself. You’re part Mancini after all…” This is the first time she’s ever even slightly mentioned Uncle Robert. “I see so much of my brother in how you act and how ambitious you are… Please, let me just witness how you grow into a performer the way he did?” She sniffles, and that’s when I realize I’ve started crying too. I nod my head, granting them the permission back into my life, and the three of us hug. Mom holds me the way I wanted to be held so many times since the day she kicked me out. It’s nostalgic and rewarding. “What a sight this is,” Uncle Mitch says and when I look up, I find Charlie and Jeremy hugging their families too. For a while before the show starts, all of us hang out in the dressing room with our families. Luka, Owen’s sister has joined, as well as Jeremy’s two brothers. I’m glad I got to know all of them. Now, our Emily and The Foxes family has grown from the band-plus-Mitch-and-Madi to one big, happy family. Nothing can take this away from us now.

I take a deep breath, glancing over at our families in the front row, and after hearing Charlie’s “You got this”, I start playing the first notes on the piano to our new song. “Running from the past Tripping on the now What is lost can be found, it's obvious And like a rubber ball We come bouncing back We all got a second act, inside of us” The boys then chime in with their instruments as I grab the microphone, joining the boys to jam out with them. “I believe I believe that we're just one dream Away from who we're meant to be That we're standing on the edge of Something big, something crazy Our best days are yet unknown That this moment is ours to own” I turn from Jeremy to Owen and then to the crowd. I can’t look at Charlie yet. I know that if I do, I’ll want to kiss him, and we can’t have that. Got to stay professional. “'Cause we're standing on the edge of great” “On the edge of great” “Great” “On the edge of great” “Great” “On the edge of great” “'Cause we're standing on the edge of great” Charlie then takes the next verse whilst I walk out to the edge of the stage to interact with the crowd. “We all make mistakes But they're just steppingstones To take us where we wanna go It's never straight, no” I glance back at him as we sing together. He even gives me a little nod to beckon me to him. “Sometimes we gotta lean Lean on someone else To get a little help Until we find our way” Instead, I walk to Jeremy’s side of the stage, giving those people a bit of attention. “I believe I believe that we're just one dream Away from who we're meant to be That we're standing on the edge of Something big, something crazy Our best days are yet unknown That this moment is ours to own” I make my way back to Jeremy, dancing along to the rhythm he and Owen are giving me. “'Cause we're standing on the edge of great” “On the edge of great” “Great” “On the edge of great” “Great” “On the edge of great” “'Cause we're standing on the edge of...” I step onto the piano stool to give me a boost onto the grand piano itself. I crawl across, staying put on the edge as the boys and I go for the bridge together. “Shout, shout C'mon and let it out, out Don't gotta hide it Let your colors blind their eyes Be who you are no compromise Just shout, shout C'mon and let it out, out What doesn't kill you makes you feel alive Ooh-oh” Jeremy and Owen quit playing their instruments, and though we’d said this would be an a Capella moment for me, Charlie’s guitar riff surprises me instead. As I kneel in the middle of the piano, he makes his way over to me, giving me an encouraging smile. “I believe I believe that we're just one dream Away from who we're meant to be That we're standing on the edge of great” While I hit the high note, standing up onto the piano, the boys continue with the chorus. “Something big, something crazy Our best days are yet unknown That this moment is ours to own” We lapse into the chorus again, the crowd getting rowdier and cheerier with the second. This feeling right here is one I want to feel forever. With Charlie and Owen and Jeremy. And with Madi and Mitch next to me. The boys quit playing their instruments after the last chorus as I take my seat behind the piano again, securing the mic into the stand. To my complete surprise, I feel Charlie coming to sit next to me, and we sing the very last bit together in the same microphone. “Running from the past Tripping on the now What is lost can be found, it's obvious” As the crowd breaks out into a loud cheer, I can’t move anymore. All I can do is stay put and stare into Charlie’s beautiful hazel eyes that I’d missed so much. I inch closer. He inches closer. All the way until our lips touch in a soft, love-filled kiss. A kiss I’d missed for so long. “I love you, Emily Fox,” he whispers, his forehead pressed to mine. “I love you too, Charlie Gillespie,” I whisper back. Little do we notice my microphone is still on until the crowd bursts into even louder cheers. The both of us look up into the crowd first, then to Jeremy and Owen, who simply give us a proud smile, and then back at each other. He grabs my hand in his and leads me towards the middle of the stage where the boys join us too. Jeremy takes my hand, and Owen and Charlie hold hands too. The four of us take a bow, soaking in the feeling of the cheers at the Orpheum. We actually played the Orpheum. Emily and the Foxes. Me and my boys. Me, my two best friends and the love of my life. Forever. Together.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @ashleyleblancx @calamitykaty @lolychu @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @siennanoelle01 @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @luckylouiebug @kiss-themoongoodbye @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans @caitsymichelle13 @thedarkqueenofavalon

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bucky-of-the-opera · 4 years

Text

Just Desserts

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A dessert thief brings about the unlikely duo of Bucky Barnes and Y/N

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,800ish

A/N: This is for mermaidxatxheart’s 500 Followers Writing Challenge! This takes place at the Avengers Compound in an alternate universe where they all live together. My prompt is “They told me you’re the guy to see.” “For what?” “Murder.”

The beeping from your alarm woke you from your slumber. And the warmth of your bed was so soothing that you almost turned the thing off and went back to sleep. Almost. But skipping one of Captain America’s mandatory training sessions was like signing your own death warrant. One of the other recruits had once made the mistake of arriving late for training, and was asked to stay behind afterwards. To this day, no one knows what Captain America said or did to the recruit, but that was the last day he was seen at the compound. So, you begrudgingly rolled out of bed.

The day consisted of intense endurance training that had your body aching by the end of it. One hot bath later, and you were back in your comfortable pajamas, walking to the kitchen designated for the recruits. There was a slice of pie sitting in the refrigerator that you had been saving, and it was calling your name.

You pulled the door open and grabbed the container. It felt lighter than you remembered. You removed the lid to find a note in place of the pie.

Pie will interfere with your training regimen.

— S. Wilson

P.S. It was delicious

You crumpled up the paper, shoved it in your pocket, and stormed back to your room. There was no way Wilson was getting away with this, even if he was an Avenger. He was going to pay, and you were going to get help from the best to make sure of it.

The next morning, you marched into the main kitchen where you found the man you had been searching for: Bucky Barnes.

He was sitting at the table alone, reading a newspaper. You marched over toward the table and pulled out the chair across from him; it screeched to announce your presence.

Bucky lowered the paper just enough so that he could watch you as you plopped down in front him. He was intrigued; the recruits were usually too intimidated by him to even glance in his direction. And yet, here you were.

“Can I help you?” he asked, looking back at the paper.

“I believe you can, Sergeant Barnes. I’m Y/N; a new recruit.” You rested your hands on the table, interlocking your fingers. “They told me you’re the guy to see.”

He flipped to another page. “For what?”

“Murder.”

That caught his attention. Bucky set down the newspaper and looked fully at you.

“You know I’m not a mercenary anymore, right? I’m an Avenger; which means I’m only allowed to kill someone if I have permission from people who hold important positions. And you…” he trailed off, looking you up and down before meeting your eyes. “You are not one of those people.”

He leaned back in his chair and resumed his reading.

You took a moment to compose yourself after his harsh, albeit honest, statement. “Okay,” you said as you cleared your throat, “maybe ‘murder’ was the wrong word. What about something a little less permanent?”

Bucky glanced at you. “Like what?”

You tapped your knuckles on the table. “I don’t know; something that sends a message.”

He huffed. “Why not send a strongly worded email instead?”

The man was infuriating, you thought. No wonder people tend to avoid him. Before you could respond, he spoke again.

“Out of curiosity,” Bucky began, “who’s the target?”

You paused before announcing his name. “Sam Wilson.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitched upwards at the mention of his teammate’s name. Dare you say it was a smile? But just as fast as it appeared, it had already vanished. “Birdbrain, huh? What did he do to get on your bad side?”

“He stole my pie.”

“Your pie?” he asked, incredulously.

You nodded. “And I have proof.” You pulled the slightly crumpled paper out from your pocket and slid it across the table toward Bucky. “He left this note in the container.”

“That’s his chicken scratch,” Bucky confirmed. “But why don’t you just take it up with him? I’m sure he’d buy you another pie if you asked nicely.”

“You don’t understand; my uncle baked it. There’s people who wait all year for his pies.” You leaned forward. “Sergeant Barnes, I wait all year for his pies. The man has perfected the pumpkin pie and the apple pie. Any other bakery or store bought replacement would be an insult–”

“All right, all right,” he interrupted, rubbing his face. “Forget I asked. But why do you need my help? Can’t you come up with some brilliant plan all on your own?”

You rubbed your arm, glancing down. “Well, I could. It’s just… he’s an Avenger. And I’m a recruit…”

“You think you’ll get fired if you retaliate?”

“That, or I’ll mysteriously disappear. Never to be heard from again.”

Bucky chuckled. “You recruits have been listening to too many rumors.” He considered you carefully before saying, “Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeated.

He nodded. “I’ll help you.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank you so much, Sergeant Barnes!”

“Bucky,” he corrected you.

You smiled. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He gave you a tight-lipped smile in return. “So, now we have to figure out how to hit Wilson where it hurts. Lucky for you, I may already have an idea or two in mind.”

***

After much consideration, you and Bucky had opted for the “eye for an eye” route. He told you that the plan was simple enough that he would take care of everything. You just had to act normal and not draw any unnecessary attention toward yourself. Which hopefully wouldn’t be too hard.

A few days later, you were back in the gym with the rest of the recruits. Steve had split the group up into sparring pairs and had asked Bucky to help him oversee the day’s training. You had begun the match with your opponent when Sam entered the gym and made a beeline for Bucky who had stopped his rounds to observe you.

“Have you seen Redwing anywhere? He’s not with any of my gear,” Sam said.

His presence had distracted you and caused you to lose your footing. Which allowed your opponent to pin you onto the mat.

“Mind your footing, Y/L/N.” Without tearing his eyes away from where you lie on the ground, he responded to Sam. “I haven’t seen your pet anywhere, Wilson. You should really take better care of your belongings.”

You were struggling to break free of your opponent’s grip while simultaneously trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. You snuck a glance toward the two men. Bucky looked calm, almost bored. Meanwhile, Sam was irate. He opened his mouth to speak just as Bucky cut him off.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to teach here.”

Sam huffed. “I know you’ve got something to do with this. You don’t fool me.” He spun around and marched out of the room, in search of his missing drone.

Bucky watched him leave before turning back to face you. He gave you a wink before finally moving on to observe the next pair.

When your training session had ended, the recruits were dismissed. You hung back until just you and Bucky remained in the gym. He was staring at you with his arms folded.

“You’re gonna blow our cover from the get-go.”

“Sorry. I’ll be more cautious next time.” You rubbed your arm, staring at the ground.

He sighed. “What’s the matter?”

You hesitated before finally responding. “What’s going to happen when he finds out I was responsible for the kidnapping?”

“First of all, you can’t kidnap a drone. We’re simply borrowing it.”

You let out a chuckle, and he gave you a rare smile in return.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about; Wilson will never know you were involved. As long as you don’t give us away,” he added.

You grinned at him. “Ya know, you’re not as scary as people say you are.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go spreading that around. I don’t need more recruits coming up to me and asking for favors.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Bucky.”

***

Several days had passed, and tensions between Sam and Bucky were still running high. The two sat on opposite sides of the couch in the common area, with Steve between them. Sam had grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels until he finally landed on a cake baking competition.

“Man, a cake sounds so good right now,” Sam said.

“Thought you’d be more of a pie guy,” Bucky mumbled.

“What was that, Tin Man?”

“I said that you seem more like a pie guy.”

“Hey, I don’t discriminate. I’m down for any kind of dessert.”

Bucky smirked. “Especially if it’s free, right?”

Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky. “What are you talking about?”

“I may have heard from a little bird that you stole a pie from the recruits’ fridge. And before you deny it, I saw the note.”

Steve turned to Sam. “You stole a pie? And left a note?”

“It was in there for days, and there was no name on it! I figured whoever it belonged to had forgotten about it. And it would’ve been a shame for such a delicious pie to go to waste.”

Steve and Bucky both stared at Sam.

“Ugh. Why are we even talking about pie when we should be talking about how you stole my drone?” He pointed at Bucky.

“Did you steal Redwing?” Steve asked.

“There’s no proof that it was me. And besides, even if I did steal it, I’d say it would make us even for the time you stole my arm.”

Sam chuckled. “You gotta admit, that was pretty funny though.”

“For you, maybe,” Bucky muttered.

“Bucky, give Sam his drone back. And Sam, stop eating the recruits’ food.” Steve shook his head. “Unbelievable. I train these rookies all day, and then I have to parent the two of you.”

“Whatever,” Bucky groaned before leaving the room.

He was headed back to his bedroom when he crossed your path in the hallway. He stopped in his tracks.

“So, uh, Steve is making me give the drone back. But we drove Sam crazy for a few days, so I’d say we still accomplished our mission.”

“I’d say so too.” You smiled at him. “I know you’re busy and probably find recruits annoying, so, um, thank you for helping me.”

“Most recruits are annoying. But you’re…” his eyes met yours as he searched for the words to say. “... tolerable.”

“Bucky Barnes, you’re an actual teddy bear, aren’t you?”

A blush dusted his cheeks; he was at a loss for words.

You laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, maybe we can mess with Sam again sometime.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, smiling back at you. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

“See you, Bucky.”

#jamies500writingchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #james buchanan barnes

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years

Text

Three Days ~ 43

~*~Emma~*~

I remembered Will from a couple of parties and Kirk and Boone's wedding. Nice guy. Apparently, he and some of his friends thought I was the extra in a three-way with Eli and Angie. Eli didn't see a reason he should correct them. Angie invited Alissa out on one of our girls’ nights and she became one of the group. It had probably been six months since I’d last seen her. I liked her and we got along well. The friendship had never progressed past those nights. I can't remember if I met her before or after Jimmy and I broke up. Either way, I moved, and we only ever saw each other on nights out. Now I find she's married to one of Sebastian's best friends. We have at least three friends in common and our friends' group overlaps. Very cool, but very weird. Almost like we were supposed to meet.

Wednesday I got the photoshoot "before" picture about fifteen minutes before my kids arrived. Looked like Sebastian in the morning. Hair a little messy, a crease on his face from his pillow, and his eyes not quite awake. His beard had grown in more and I ran my fingers over it in the picture, knowing it would be gone in the after. I didn’t dislike either version. I was just used to the way I’d met him.

My aide took the kids to lunch and I went in search of my after. The first thing I noticed was his beard was trimmed super close, where it was long stubble, but it was still there. I guess they'd changed their mind. His hair was styled not that different than he did except every hair was in place and I was betting it was fixed where it wouldn't move. Makeup perfected his skin tone and somehow made his eyes even bluer. Maybe it was the dark blue robe he was wearing. It had been hours since he'd sent, but I still sent a text telling him how handsome he looked.

I grabbed my lunch out of my mini-fridge and headed down to Mallory's room. I'd made some pasta salad loaded with veggies while talking with Sebastian last night and was looking forward to eating. Our secretary was walking toward me with a bouquet of cookies. They were shaped and iced like crayons, rulers, apples, notepads, and glue. Outside of teacher appreciation week that usually signaled a parent had gotten pissed at a grade or consequence and sided with their kid. At least, until they got both sides of the story. Cookies were good apologies and could be shared with the other grade level teachers who were sure to know every word you said and the tone of voice you used.

"Who got yelled at this time, Jamie?"

She lifted an eyebrow, "You."

"No one’s yelled at me." That meant they were from Sebastian.

"Then your new boyfriend sent cookies instead of flowers."

I laughed, "Good possibility." I took them from her. "Take one for you and Kim."

"I was hoping you'd say that. They smell delicious."

I walked into Mallory's room with my healthy pasta salad and not at all healthy cookies. "I brought dessert." Our lunch group made appreciative noises.

Cindy laughed, "Who's parent did you piss off?"

I shook my head, "No one."

Mallory snatched the card while my hands were full, "I believe these are from the new man." I went ahead and sat down, trusting the card would be G-rated. Mallory read, "Halfway into the last full week. Hope this helps you all make it through. Sebastian." She looked to me, "Sebastian? That's a mouthful."

"Yes, he is."

Before we dug into the cookies, I had everyone take one and gather together. I'd send the picture as a thank you. They'd heard about him Monday after the tournament and I talked more about him today. I wasn't ready to share him yet. I was a little surprised word hadn't traveled from the tournament, but I guess there wasn't enough overlap. Outside of my team, where I worked wasn’t common knowledge. This was an advantage of not working and living in the same school district. If there was gossip it was more than likely identifying me as the setter on that team than a teacher. The moment his last name entered my school it would be a topic of conversation in all three buildings. I don't know exactly what that would mean. I'd been here four years and it was common knowledge where I went over winter break. Ed may eclipse Sebastian, but not when you throw Marvel in the mix. We have superhero day during our anti-drug week. I see the Marvel costumes and t-shirts. There'd be a lot of talk. Once the kids were gone, I’d feel more comfortable sharing who this new man is. The kids could make this a zoo.

Mallory, Cindy, and I were the last left. Cindy asked, "Will we ever meet this Sebastian? See a picture."

"I’m sure." I smiled, "We haven't known each two weeks yet. It's good and I'm protecting the new relationship like you do a new kitten. It needs to grow a little more."

Mallory agreed, "You know the Barbie Bitches at the high school are going to want all the details."

I did know that. "I’m not ready to share."

Cindy took our trash to the cafeteria while Mal and I cleaned up the tables. We sat down to finish our drinks, stretching out our break as long as possible. Her kids coming into the room was my cue to head back to my room as mine would be a few minutes behind them. It wasn’t quite time yet.

My text alert went off with a picture of Sebastian. I reached for my phone, but not so quick that Mallory didn’t see. Her eyes went wide and I held up a finger, “Give me one minute and I'll show you.” He was wearing a dark blue suit, with an unbuttoned white shirt, and an untied bow tie. He looked amazing and about two seconds away from sex. I put my hand over the screen and pushed it toward Mal, "Can I trust you to tell no one. I'm not ready for this to be here."

Mal put her hand over mine, "You know I'm not telling anyone. If that's who I think it is, the kids finding out will make Field Day crazy. Too much unstructured time to gossip and ask you questions." She started lifting her hand, "Let me see."

I moved my hand from the phone to my mouth.

Mallory looked at the picture a long time before she said, "Yep, that’s a Sebastian. Damn, Emma, you met him," she tapped my screen, "in the grocery?"

I nodded.

"Now I really wish I would have come to volleyball. Although, I probably would have just stared."

"No, you wouldn't. A few minutes and you would see he's like anyone else. Nothing special."

She grinned, "Except to you." Her kids started coming into the room.

I stood, "Except to me."

As I headed to the door she called out, "We're sitting in the back at faculty meeting."

Sebastian had sent another picture by the time recess rolled around. He was in black jeans and a t-shirt a least one size too small.

Emma ~ Might have to cut you out of that shirt. This is not a complaint.

Sebastian ~ It was stretchy.

Emma ~ How is it going?

Sebastian ~ Good. I'm sitting in a chair having my hair changed.

Emma ~ What are they doing to it?

Sebastian ~ Making it look like it did when I got here. Apparently, people sleep in very expensive watches. I' II be done soon. No tommorow.

Emma ~ What will you do with the unexpected free time?

Sebastian ~ Clean my apartment.

Emma ~ I was going to say you don't have to, but you do. Ha Ha, the first time at least.

Sebastian ~ Exactly. I’m pretty neat. Bathroom is a wreck.

Emma ~ Bathrooms always need cleaning. I have to run. Argument on the monkey bars.

Sebastian ~ Talk to you later.

It would be Thursday night before we talked. Real-life set in. I had a volleyball game Wednesday night and Sebastian went out for drinks with the photographer once the shoot was over. I got home and was exhausted. We lost. I don't like to lose.

Thursday during the day there were no texts. My guess is he got home late and drunk. Overslept. Busy at gym. Returns home to sleep off the night before. I was driving home when a call from Sebastian came in.

"Buna ziua, Sebasti-an.” <Good afternoon>

“Ce mai faci?” <How are you?>

Thankfully he kept it simple. “Bine, tu?” <Good and you?>

Sebastian switched to English. “I broke my phone. I pulled it out to text some woman, got elbowed by a guy on the sidewalk, and threw my phone on the ground. Screen shattered and I held it in my hand watching it slowly die. It just glitched and sputtered away in front of me."

"My poor, baby. Are you mourning the loss?"

"Nope, an hour in an Apple store and I have a shiny new iPhone. They were able to transfer my data over. Good as new. That's why you hadn’t heard from me."

I smiled, "I thought you were sleeping one-off."

"I barely drank. Too much to do today. Sheets changed, bathroom clean, kitchen has some food, and the family room is clean. When are you going to be here?"

"I got permission to leave a little early. I’ll definitely make the three o’clock train, but I’ll try and do the two. If that's ok with you?"

“I'm not going anywhere after the gym. I'll be here waiting."

"I'm excited. Seeing you. You with my friends and your friends. It’s going to be fun."

"It is."

Just to be sure. "Most excited about you."

"I like hearing that."

I set my alarm a little early to give myself time to finish packing. I’m not normally an over-packer, but I couldn't decide on a dress for dinner. Or anything else. Insane. At least today wasn't a theme day I need to wear a costume for. I wore a pair of black capris and a bright pink top with rolled sleeves and a long zipper up the front. Up for school, a little less so for Sebastian.

First text of the day.

Sebastian ~ Are you here yet?

I had nothing but fun things planned for the day. Yesterday I'd had them vote for their favorite books and we read those at the top of every hour. We played math games, a science and social studies game show, and our top music and movement videos. I ate my lunch getting the STEM Lab cart and prepped everything for my assistant. The kids had been wonderful all day and I didn't feel the least bit guilty when I fled the building when she took them outside for recess.

I waited until I was safely on the train to text Sebastian.

Emma ~ On my way

Sebastian ~ Early!

Emma ~ I’ll beat the worst of the traffic

Sebastian ~ Exactly what I was thinking.

Sebastian ~ I should shower.

I put in my ear pods, clicking shuffle on my "Current Faves" playlist. This one changed all the time. Some never left the list. Recently there'd be an influx of happy love songs and sexy mood music. I think I even dozed off a couple of times. The closer I got the more butterflies were in my stomach. I was excited to see him, but a little nervous. I was going to his place. It would be different than surrounded by my stuff. I’m nervous about stupid stuff like where do I put my toothbrush, is it ok to look through the books in his extra room, what I do with my dirty clothes, and what if I get thirsty in the middle of the night? It's making me think back and wondering if I'd made him welcome... comfortable.

I took a cab from the train station, looking out the window at the city I used to call home. I wasn't familiar with where he lived so I watched the numbers on the buildings. His building from the outside looked like an old converted warehouse. The brick was red with a gray stone line between every floor. Looked about seven floors. He'd texted me the entry code and I hopped on the elevator to the fifth.

Sebastian opened his door so fast it was like he was standing beside it and I almost fell over. He was barefoot in ripped jeans and a Rutgers t-shirt. He held the door open with a hand high on the door. Add in the finger styled hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile that said he was happy to see me and he was the sexiest thing I'd ever laid eyes on. It was the barefoot part that got me. "I'm here."

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction

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onewaywardwitch · 5 years

Text

Just A Typo (10/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Hacker!Reader

Summary: It was a simple challenge between a very competitive group of friends. A challenge that ended very differently than anticipated.

Warnings: Pure fluff

Word Count: 1941

A/N: I’m back! Yay! Thank you all so much for all your kind words, I’m really loving writing this series. Exams are finally over which means regular updates! Imagine that...

There is a small scene in this part that was not my idea. I got it from a tumblr post that I saw ages ago and can no longer find. So full credits go to the person who came up with the idea! There’ll be a series of ***** beside the scene.

“I'm going to miss being able to feel my arms,” I groaned as Nat knocked me down to ground once again.

“Come on, get up,” she said, smirking at my exhausted form on the floor. I didn’t answer her at first. Instead I slowly got into the fetal position and covered my eyes.

“If I don’t look up, she won't be there, if I don’t look up, she won't be there,” I muttered repetitively. Her laughter from above me confirmed that my chanting did nothing.

I crawled as slowly as I possibly could until I was facing her and scowled.

“This is pointless.”

“Stop slouching.”

We had a mini stare off before I coped on that I was arguing with Natasha Romanoff and I should probably just shut up and get this over and done with.

I didn’t notice Bucky and Steve coming in to watch us train. Or rather, watch Nat look bored as she effortlessly knocked me down.

“Shouldn’t you actually teach me instead of just acting like I'm capable of defending myself?”

“I've found it's better to learn on the job.”

“You just wanna hit me.”

She shrugged in reply, not easing my nerves in the slightest.

She swung her fist in my direction, and instead of attempting to block it, I just walked off the training mat.

“I cannot be anywhere near her. This woman is trying to kill me!”

Steve shook his head at my statement. “Come on, I'm sure you're learning plenty.”

“Well, I did learn what a treadmill looks like,” I replied gesturing in the general direction of where the treadmills were across the gym. “But all I've learned from Nat is that I'm hopeless.”

“Here, try this,” Bucky said, holding out a knife to me. I stared at him in disbelief. Steve raised an eyebrow at his friend, but Nat wasn’t fazed in the slightest.

“A knife?”

He looked surprised at my reaction, as if he expected me to welcome the idea of knife-wielding. I'm sure he thought he was being helpful. “You're shockingly terrible at self-defence without any weapons. This might help. How else are you going to defend yourself?”

“I figured my winning personality would be enough for them to leave me alone.”

“And if not?”

I paused for a moment, mulling over my other options before I muttered in a small voice, “A very loud battle cry.”

Steve snorted and even Nat tried to hold in a laugh. Bucky shook his head, pocketing the knife and walking out, a defeated look etched onto his face.

~~~~~

Angie and Becca decided they would grace me with their presence and managed to save me from another training session with Nat. Tony took it upon himself to make sure the kitchen was always fully stocked with tea for Angie and a lot of Haribo for me. He didn’t get anything for Becca. Instead, he swore that she had his full permission to attack any of the Avengers with pillows if she felt they screwed something up. Or if she just felt like it.

The kitchen was empty for a change. Some privacy was rare in a tower as busy as this one and I was grateful for the time to catch up with my friends.

“What’s it like living here?” Becca asked while admiring the toaster (“It's just so shiny!”). “Is it as awesome as everyone imagines? Do they spend all their time training? Does Captain America just walk around with his shirt off all the time, or only sometimes?”

I thought back to how I spent nearly forty minutes explaining the difference between regular flour and self-rising flour to Bucky yesterday. “It's definitely an experience.”

Angie raised an eyebrow at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “You realise you're living the dream millions of people have had?”

“Yeah, well when you watch Captain America try to work a laptop it starts to lose its appeal.”

*****

“Hey, have any of you seen Bruce anywhere?” Tony asked the few Avengers that were gathered in the kitchen. Unfortunately, his words were drowned out by the sound of Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’ blaring throughout the room.

A few of the teammates looked surprised. The rest just sighed.

“Not again,” Steve muttered. Him and Tony shared a knowing look. Bucky stared at Steve, a frown on his face and he looked around for where the music came from. He glanced at Wanda who was giggling at the look of pure exhaustion on Tony’s face. She noticed him looking at her and explained the situation, grinning widely.

“Y/N’s got bored lately so she hacked into F.R.I.D.A.Y. and has her play certain songs every time certain people walk into the kitchen,” she explained and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“You can laugh now,” Steve said, folding his arms across his chest and huffing. “It's not funny when you get up at three in the morning for a glass of water and the American anthem starts playing at full volume.”

Sam laughed, choking on whatever it was he was eating. Bucky retaliated by whacking him on the back with his stronger arm. Sam went flying off the sofa, glaring at Bucky who looked away innocently.

“I don’t blame her for being bored cooped up in here, but why don’t you just get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to stop it?” Clint questioned Tony.

It was a fair question, and everyone turned to Tony, waiting on his reply. His ears tinged the faintest shade of pink, which was a rarity for the ever-confident billionaire.

“Becauseshelockedmeout,” he mumbled quickly.

“What was that?”

“She locked me out! I have no idea what she’s done but she changed F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s protocol so the one thing I can’t access are the speakers around the tower. I'm incredibly proud and impressed but, I gotta say, my ego’s taken a hit.

~~~~~

At that precise moment, I walked in, failing to notice the array of looks I was being given. From exasperation to pure amusement, everyone seemed to have mixed feelings regarding my antics.

It took a moment for me to feel the number of eyes glued on my figure. I immediately decided to play the nonchalant, nothing-is-going-on card.

“Who had the last poptart?” I asked, looking everywhere except at Tony, Steve, and Nat, who were the only people I had edited songs for. So far.

Steve cleared his throat, but I focused my attention on Wanda.

“Was it you? I knew you were eating all my food.”

He coughed slightly again so I turned to him.

“I have a great doctor in the city if that cold is bothering you.”

Tony tried his hardest not to smile, stepping forward to talk to me.

It took nearly twenty minutes for our discussion to end, during which he asked (begged) me to turn off the music. My immediate response was accusing him of trying to inhibit my creative musical expression.

I could tell Tony didn’t know how he felt about meeting his quick-witted equal. We were similar in more ways than he would admit. The only difference was that I didn’t flaunt my abilities as he did. I preferred to remain under the radar while he enjoyed the life of celebrity genius. It gave me an idea of what my life could have been like, had I shown my skill to large companies years ago. The thought of it made me shudder. There was no way I would have been able to cope with the press Tony does all the time. Each day I spent in his company made me respect him even more. It was refreshing to see him as a real and generous person and not the self-centred man the media often painted him as.

~~~~~

Bucky was looking for absolutely nobody because for once he had nothing to do and was planning on finally understanding all the hype around ‘Game of Thrones’, when he caught sight of Y/N sitting on the floor against the wall of the corridor with her laptop on her lap. She hadn’t seen him yet and he contemplated going a different way so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in front of the tower’s resident hacker. God knows every time he was left alone with her, he said something stupid or tripped up. He was convinced she thought he was an idiot, and he couldn’t blame her.

~~~~~

I looked up as I heard heavy boots approaching me. Bucky was nervously chewing on his lip as he stood in front of me. There was silence for a moment, both of us wondering if we should be the first one to speak up.

“How are you?”

“What are you working on?”

How convenient that we both spoke at exactly the same time. I could only imagine that I had a blush on my face that matched the one growing on his.

I nodded at the screen in front of me. “I'm just changing around F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s protocols before Steve wets himself every time he goes into the kitchen at three in the morning. Which, apparently, is a regular thing.”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, he doesn’t have the best sleeping schedule.” He gestured towards the empty space beside me and I patted the ground, not even hesitating for him to sit beside me.

He kept silent at I worked on my laptop. He was watching what I was doing but I could tell he was completely lost.

I glanced over slyly and nearly laughed as his eyes went back and forth at record speed, doing his best to scan and understand what the lines of numbers and words meant.

“All of this is F.R.I.D.A.Y. You're looking at everything she’s responsible for.” I pointed at a specific few lines, drawing his attention instantly. “See that there? That’s the code that stops unauthorised individuals from entering the private floors. And down here,” I moved down the screen. “is how she analyses fight patterns.”

“And this is how Tony gets an immediate notification whenever someone blocks the disposal with coffee grounds.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he stared at me in shock. “He knows about that?”

“It's a common problem.” I giggled slightly, casting my eyes down the corridor. “I'm surprised no one has come down this way yet. This is normally one of the busier hallways.”

~~~~~

Becca came to visit her friend and just so happened to bump into Tony as she searched the tower. They walked together for a bit, casually chatting about nothing in particular. That’s when they came across Y/N and Bucky, sitting very close together. Becca grabbed Tony by his shirt and pulled him back around the corner and down the halls they came through, as quickly and quietly as she could manage. By the time she let go of him, he appeared relatively flustered.

“What the hell was that?”

“Y/N has been babbling on about Bucky for ages. They're sitting there talking and being all obliviously lovey dovey, so nobody is going to interrupt them, capiche?”

Tony took a step back, the intense look on Becca’s face scaring him ever so slightly.

They stood guard a few corridors away from the couple, stopping anyone from heading down that way. It wasn’t long before Steve tried passing them, to no avail.

“Come on guys, what’s the issue? The closest bathroom is down that way,” he complained.

“Sort out your bladder issue somewhere else, Rogers. My best friend’s love life is on the line here.”

That got his interest.

When Bruce attempted to cross them, he was stopped by Steve who had joined the cause.

“Bucky needs to get a life” was Steve’s only response.

‘Just A Typo’ Taglist (open):

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(if I forgot to tag you just send me a message)

@amybarter15 @imperialoath @mamaraptor @marbleowl @lydklein1 @wantingtobekorra @winter-scolder @uhholyhazza @ladymelissastark @sarcasm-n-insomnia @foxylupines @myrabbitholetoneverland @amazingficsthatididnotwrite @markusstraya @padfootormoose @worldofchoices @just-some-stuff-in-life @colie87 @catsandbooksinafarawayplace @littleblackdressxx @thequirkypeach @astronomicparker @asguardiansoftheavengers @awesome-alysia @sebbystanlover-vk @unknownwonder @wowstiless @d-eracine @nattie0010 @bloodyproudpotterhead @waddupmydood @jjlevin @libbymouse @piscesbarnes @yourwonderbelle @pinnedandneedled @otterlockholmes @wandressfox @chybay22 @my-nonexistant-romance @cap-just-said-language @pinkbubblegumuniverse @forsaken-letters @mywinterwolf @izzyisavengersupernaturaltrash @ur-mom-24-7 @yourpal-yourbuddy-yourbuckyy @viioletdelights @moli1497 @glitterypinkkkitty @borkystank @eyeliveinabook

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daybreak-academy-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 05

Êtes-vous Prêts?

Summary: In which Anora and Ephemer properly meet for the first time. Word Count: 1,381 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

“There's no way this month is almost over!” Mog loudly declared as he pounded his fists onto the cafeteria table. “It feels like we just came back from winter break a week ago!”

“That's only because you spent most of that time slacking off.” Nin rebuffed with a scoff. “Did you even try to study for the quiz in math?”

“Yes!” came the immediate answer. There was a small pause as everyone gave him a questioning glare, then he shrunk a bit in his spot and mumbled, “No...”

Everyone at the table laughed at his expense. Mog pretended to be angry about it for a moment, before going into a laughter of his own. When they all calmed down again, Affie let out a long yawn.

“Well, I for one am glad the day's almost over. I am so exhausted.”

“What did you do today?” Pyra questioned, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Fencing practice.”

“So?”

“Half of my house got paired with Ursus.” Affie explained in a flat tone. “I was part of that group.”

“Ouch. At least the guys in Leopardus ask for permission before trying to stab your eye out.”

“Right?!”

Through all of this, Anora was making rather confused faces at the others. She was more than aware by now that fencing was Daybreak Academy's main sport. It was mandatory to take it as well. Affie was the first to notice Anora's weird looks.

“Oh, you wouldn't know because it's the first time you're practicing with other houses. Would you?” he wondered. Not truly waiting for an answer, he went on to explain, “You see, every so often we have fencing practice with the others- usually with three houses at the same time, but divided in two. Say for example, like today, Vulpes, Leopardus, and Ursus are scheduled to practice together. The houses are then divided into two teams for each house; so then you have half of Vulpes fighting half of Leopardus, half of Leopardus fighting Ursus, and so on.”

“It's a pretty dumb way of going about it.” Mog noted, pretending to scratch his nose. “But five is a prime number, so...”

“Oh, so you were doing your homework?” Pyra smirked. The look Mog gave her was attached to a very witty remark, but he was unable to say it as the bell started to ring.

“Looks like it's time for Anora and I to get our butts whooped by Ursus.” Mog then bemoaned instead. “Wish us luck.”

“Good luck!” the rest of the table told them without hesitation.

. . .

Anora didn't know what she was expecting for this practice. It was pretty much the same as usual, students shouting encouragements at each other, the long time it took to get into the fencing suits, and the long wait before you were called up. It was taking longer for them to rotate out, though.

“Next group!” the gym teacher shouted.

Anora took in a deep breath as she came forward. Her heart pounding in her head as she pulled her helmet on. She picked up the épée from the last person and took her place on the gym mat. Her opponent was also on the mat already- they adjusted some straps on their helmet before taking their place as well. Between the other students cheering the match, she could hear Mog's eager voice shout “Kick their butt, Anora!” from somewhere nearby. At the same time, someone else had shouted, “Go easy on them, Ephemer!”

The gym teacher came between the two of them, giving both Anora and her opponent a small nod of acknowledgment. “First to reach five hits on the other, or when five minutes are up, wins.” the gym teacher informed them. They then stepped out the way and once more looked between Anora and her opponent. “Now, en-garde.” (Anora raised her épée in preparation, as did her opponent.) “Êtes-vous prêts? Allez!”

And thus began the most stressful thirty seconds Anora had yet to experience in gym class. It didn't help that the first twenty seconds were spent acting like they were cats about to lash out at each other. Anora's opponent was the first to make the lunge. The girl reacted by jumping out of the way before attempting to parry. Out of instinct and a sudden adrenaline, Anora did a small feint before going in for her attack. At the first impact, they both froze.

“First point to the left side.” the gym teacher announced, motioning to Anora.

Anora blinked as she came to realize that she had struck her opponent in the chest. They couldn't see each other's faces, but they both looked at the épée's point then at each other.

“Not bad.” her opponent approved. There was a small sound to indicate that he smirked before adding, “Now I know who I'm dealing with.”

“Back to starting mark.” the gym teacher reminded them with a blow from their whistle. Anora jumped out of place and immediately went back to start. Her opponent still seemed rather relaxed, walking back to the starting mark with a small bounce in their step.

“En-garde.” the gym teacher told them once more, as seeing the two were ready. “Êtes-vous prêts? Allez.”

The rest of the fight ended up going into the opponent's favor. Not that Anora's lucky first hit was anything to laugh at- she manage to hit them two other times.

“A house point to Leopardus for winning the match!” announced the gym teacher before turning to the other students. “Now, next group!”

Anora let out a sigh of relief before starting to head back to where Mog was watching.

“You did great.” Mog told his friend once she was close enough. “I mean, considering you've only had two weeks of classes. Whoever your partner was went easy on you.”

“I hope you're joking. She had me in a legitimate bind for a moment there.”

Mog and Anora quickly looked around to see a boy standing next to them. Like Anora, he had yet to change out of his fencing clothes but he had taken his helmet off. His unruly, loosely curled hair was wet from sweat and his sea blue eyes sparkled with kindness matched by his smile. Casually coming up from behind him was girl with long black hair, amber eyes, and pink star shaped earrings; she was wearing the standard gym uniform, which meant that she either already had her fencing practice with someone, or she was going to at a later time.

“Not bad work out there.” the boy grinned as he extended his hand out to Anora. “My name is Ephemer, what's yours?”

Anora looked from Ephemer's hand, to the girl behind him, to Mog, then back at Ephemer again. Knowing it was the nicer thing to do, Anora removed her fencing helmet and tucked it under her arm- her short strawberry-pink hair was also wet down from sweat, despite feeling certain that the match hadn't been that nerve racking now that it was over.

“Anora.” she said with a timid smile of her own as she took Ephemer's hand to shake it.

“Anora...” Ephemer repeated. For a moment, a glimmer of joy crossing his eyes “I like it.” He then gave a little sniff as he playfully scratched his nose. “Well then, Anora, I mean what I said earlier. You were really good out there; you were very agile, I think I lost track of where you were going twice!”

“He's only being nice.” the girl from behind him spoke up. “Told me earlier that he was trying to handicap himself because you're still new.”

“Hey!” Ephemer playfully retorted. “Whose side are you on?”

“Not yours if you're going to lie.” mused his friend with a smirk. Ephemer pretended to be angry for a moment before quickly melting it into a smile. He then turned back to Anora and Nin.

“It was nice meeting you.” he said, mostly to Anora. “I hope we get to see each other again sometime soon!”

Anora, still unsure of what to think of this kid, only gave a small nod in return. She and Mog then proceeded to watch as Ephemer and his friend left.

“That… was something.” Mog decided to say. All Anora could do was nod in agreement.

#daybreak academy #chapter 5 #kingdom hearts fanfiction #Anora #Sewer Squad #Mog #Ephemer #Season 1

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ashleyspinelliburnbook · 4 years

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S1E6: My Fair Gretchen/Speedy, We Hardly Knew Ye

Me, literally one recap ago: “When are we gonna get a good Gretchen episode?”

Me, today, looking at the title of the next episode and refusing to be embarrassed: “WELL, FINALLY”

My Fair Gretchen

The most pressing revelation here is that “Recess” apparently takes place in Arkansas, as the episode begins with Miss Finster handing out the Arkansas Standard Achievement Test.

Beyond that, this is a lovely ~ironic subversion~ of the “My Fair Lady” trope. Let me explain: “My Fair Lady” is all about turning Eliza Doolittle into a more acceptable member of high society, right? Turning her from Cockney to, well, refined?

Here, we’ve got Gretchen, who’s by no means a member of high society, but the goal isn’t to get her there either. See, Gretchen is smart — very smart — to the point that she gets a perfect score on the ASAT. She’s called into Principal Prickly’s office, where she learns that she has the opportunity to go to Oppenheimer Elementary for the Incredibly, Extremely Gifted. (Of course, Prickly has a vested interest in this too. If two more of his kids go there, he gets that job at Spiro Agnew Middle School!)

But...Gretchen doesn’t really want to go to Oppenheimer. Her mom is excited to hear the news, but it just makes Gretchen sad. And when she tells her friends she’s on the fence about what she’s learned, they decide to take action.

After Gretchen takes one last walk around the school, saying goodbye to the swingset, the graffiti, and the rancid fish sticks in the dumpster, she gets home to find...the gang! And they’ve got a plan to de-smart her so that when she goes in front of the Oppenheimer review board the next day, they’ll have no choice but to turn her down.

“I’ve been trying to dumb myself down ever since kindergarten,” Gretchen says, to which TJ replies, “This time, you’ve got experts on your side.”

“Yo, Prickly,” New Gretchen says as she walks into the gym for her review. After a whirlwind day of trying new looks (courtesy of the Diggers, the Ashleys, the kindergarteners), she shows up in, um, I’m not a fashion person but she’s coming off as very...not this decade? Wow, helpful.

So yeah, instead of going for “refined,” we get, well, the opposite of that. But here, it’s also the socially acceptable landing point. Instead of being a super-genius who aces standardized tests, Gretchen is now...just like any other kid.

The board, pictured above, asks Gretchen a handful of trivia questions, and she gets them all spectacularly wrong (“Who was the 14th president of the United States?” “Dennis Rodman?”). From outside, the gang celebrates her achievement...until the plan backfires.

A humiliated Principal Prickly accuses Gretchen of cheating on the exam, and Gretchen can’t help but recite all of the correct answers to their questions, in order, with perfect accuracy. Albert Einstein (you see him, come on) asks why she was hiding her intelligence, and she explains she doesn’t want to go to the new school. The board banishes Prickly to the hallway, where he and the gang await Gretchen’s fate.

When they emerge, Einstein explains that Gretchen convinced the board that there's more to education than book-learnin’ (which sort of reminds me of “Bart the Genius,” where Bart initially tries to convince the gifted school he has cheated his way into to let him go back to his old school undercover, “to see what makes ‘em tick”).

The board suggests the school instead implement a tutorial program, and the episode ends with Gretchen teaching...a room full of teachers. As it should be.

Takeaway: Every time I see an episode about a gifted kid/genius kid, I think about all the memes that go, like, “if you were ever a ‘gifted kid’ in school, you’re depressed now,” and...yeah. Imagine having all this pressure to succeed in fourth grade, you know?

Speedy, We Hardly Knew Ye

(Today in “trying something new on the blog,” I want to share something I wrote a few years ago that pretty much says what I would have written here anyway. The episode is about the class hamster, Speedy, dying, and how the kids react to it.)

In middle school, I had two opportunities to take part in Challenge Day, a day-long anti-bullying program meant to bring to the forefront all the deeply personal things that participants have in common, all while celebrating their diversity and inspiring them to dismantle the structure that causes these differences to drive them apart.

Being middle schoolers — 11-, 12-, and 13-year-olds in the thick of maintaining childhood friendships, facing new encounters, and experiencing puberty — there was a wide range of expectations for the event and the reactions throughout it. Many students saw the day solely as an opportunity to be able to skip school, while several of us read the material given to us with our permission slips and at least vaguely understood that our emotions — and our beliefs — would be tested.

The first time I did Challenge Day was in sixth grade, and at first, my primary concern was that my best friend and had been separated, relegated to participating on different days. But when the 100 or so of us entered the gym, whose windows had been blacked out to avoid any interruptions from the other 300 students on campus, the specially-trained Challenge Day leaders made every opportunity to pull us out of our comfort zones right away. Suddenly, we were sprinting within a massive circle of chairs, instructed to find a new seat, and found ourselves sitting between two people we’d never met to whom we would then have to introduce ourselves.

Eventually, we split into small groups of 6 or 7 — similarly randomly assigned, paired with a parent volunteer — and talked more candidly about our worries, how we truly felt going to school every day, and even our personal tragedies. The point here was to prove that we were able to open up to a group of strangers following all of the icebreaker activities we’d completed. And, from what my friend had told me after completing her Challenge Day the previous day, this portion of the day was where everyone started crying. While a good number of the students who were just happy to have the day off from school didn’t take this part seriously, I really wanted to – and luckily, both times, my group was just as keen.

I don’t much remember what I shared at that first Challenge Day, but in eighth grade I was dealing with both that friend’s sudden move to a school two hours away and the death of my hamster, my first real pet, and I felt I had a lot to talk about. The students in my group were very receptive to what I had to say, and one even took me aside after we moved on from the small group activities and complimented my candidness, saying I was very brave to cry for my friend and my pet.

Unfortunately, the parent volunteer in our group was less sympathetic. On the Challenge Day website, it states that volunteers receive a quick overview of the day before students arrive, and that’s it. Sadly, you can’t teach sympathy in half an hour. When I almost immediately starting sobbing about my troubles and was met with kindness by my fellow middle school-aged group members, this woman promptly interrupted me.

“Are you sure you’re not just getting caught up in the emotions, sweetheart?” she asked, her attempted pleasantness pierced by skepticism. “At your age, you’re too old to be crying about hamsters and one lost friend. There are more hamsters, and there are more friends.”

What could I do? I was a shy, insecure 13-year-old who was clearly overwhelmed by my own hardships — albeit comparatively minute to what some members of the group had shared — and all this woman could do was point out my perceived weaknesses and trivialize feelings I thought were legitimate and sincere. So I gave in. I nodded.

“Mm-hmm,” she confirmed, her face lit up in victory. “You need to learn to be stronger. That’s what today is all about. Let’s move on to someone else.”

Of course, because of the quiet, non-confrontational person I was — and still, only 13, barely beginning to emotionally mature — I let her words sink in. I entirely believed that what I had shared was completely out of line, and rebuked myself for crying at all. Since early childhood, I was the type of person who cried whenever I felt worried or insecure, and this woman, in just a few sentences, had made me so worried and so insecure that I didn’t want to cry anymore.

For me, Challenge Day in sixth grade was exciting. Because my school had only opened that year, even the seventh- and eighth-graders who transferred from the middle school across town were open to making new friends, and it was a wholly positive experience. But after Challenge Day in eighth grade, I wondered if I’d become too comfortable being openly emotional two years before. And, not to place the entirety of the blame on this one woman’s speech, since I clearly had many reasons to feel down, eighth grade was when I first recognized that I might be depressed. Even still, I don’t think I should have had to say, “Look, lady, I appreciate your fake concern, but I’m clinically depressed” to avoid any further insult.

I know so many people whose feelings were invalidated as kids simply because, as kids, many of them just hadn’t been alive long enough to experience the type of pain that adults have. (And even if they have, the emotional differences inherent in both parties for the exact same tragedy or other life change can be profound.) When adults don’t understand that comparing the plights of a single 13-year-old to their own — or anyone’s — is completely unfair, their words and actions can quickly devolve into invalidation and, sometimes, abuse.

During that second Challenge Day, the main message conveyed by the leaders was beyond my attention. I thought I’d come away with the advice to not cry unless it was about something really important, and to “be stronger” — which was completely abstract to me at the time. (It still is, honestly. Is there a checklist I have to fill out to determine if I’m “strong” enough to…what? Be a living, appropriately emotional person? I mean, evidently not.)

I don’t want adults to be rude to kids who are expressing emotions of any kind, even if it’s about something they don’t think is worth expending energy to worry about. Children and teenagers have vastly different capacities to internalize the world around them compared to adults, and that doesn’t make their reactions to hardships wrong or invalid. We should all know this, having been kids ourselves, but obviously we don’t.

When adults can’t understand a world in which a hamster’s death is, for one day, the most important thing, perhaps the sole hardship on a child’s mind, then we don’t deserve their innocent happiness at learning on their own that there are, in fact, more hamsters.

If we can’t handle children’s emotions at their worst — the worst “worst” they’ve ever experienced — to what fate are we dooming them when the things they don’t talk about, their depression and abuse and appropriately hard hardships that are allowed to challenge their strength, get bad enough for us to care?

Takeaway: Let kids feel their feelings when they’re kids so they have a healthy relationship with their emotions as adults. (Please.)

#recess

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bygosscarmine · 4 years

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LOVE SHIFTS SHAPE

Sky High: Magenta x Ethan, post-canon

a multi-chapter reunion story, in continuity with Love, Unspoken

Magenta is dreading the reunion in a mild "I'm in a successful band that has nothing to do with my powers" sort of a way, but she looks forward to seeing the friends she's kept up with at the party.

Then, for a second she doesn't recognize Ethan in his adult form, and things long forgotten (like her break-up with Zach) feel all too relevant again.

Chapter One: For A Limited Time Only

Coming down into Baltimore, Magenta stared from the plane at the citylights glinting off the water. Cars ran through the urban landscape in their binary directions, mapping its arteries in red and white cells. It had been some time since she’d flown into this airport, even longer since she’d done it alone. Strange how that made her on edge. The jolts of landing from a flight usually gave her a thrill, but today it felt just like being shoved around in a crowd after a long day.

The airplane finally stopped moving, and soon the passengers heard the bing of permission to remove their seatbelts. Magenta hadn't flown business class, since she couldn't exactly write off a trip home, so she had to wait for the many rows ahead of her to clear. Even when it was almost her turn to leave the plane, she was forced to lean uncomfortably on the back of her seat, stooped, as the people in front of her wrestled large bags from overhead bins.

She turned her cellphone back on while she waited and saw a message directed at her in the messaging group with her high school friends. When's your flight arrive?

Just now, she replied.

Someone asked, When will you leave?

Day after the party.

It felt weird to not to be going home--but not all bad. It was one less thing to dread, though she'd get a lecture from her mother eventually. She was dreading the reunion enough.

The rental car kiosk was thankfully not over-run at this time of night, so she got a car without too much delay and drove to her hotel. In the pull-through lane in front of the lobby, she handed over her car with luggage to a valet, taking only the disreputably worn-in messenger bag with her wallet and phone that had accompanied her into the plane cabin as well. As she walked into the lobby a middle-aged man with the distinctive style of a traveling businessperson was complaining to a clerk, though he spared a moment's attention to giving her a critical look.

Apparently women in smokey eye-makeup and torn jeans didn't fit his image of the Royana establishment.

"Yeah," he said, in that exasperated tone conveying he felt he was being really patient, "I really feel like I should get an upgrade, every other location I've been to has a free shuttle from the airport."

"I'll see what I can do, sir," said the junior clerk, while glancing into the side-office.

The senior staff-member who emerged at this moment saw Magenta and said, "Ah! Ms. Notani. Welcome. We have your Premier Suite ready for you. Just give me a moment to activate your key."

"Certainly," said Magenta. "And please upgrade this gentleman's suite as one of my guests. Thank you."

The man looked flabbergasted (and not necessarily pleased) but Magenta just took her key-card and headed toward the elevators.

She was only in a split second of the advertisement featuring Kitt, the frontwoman of her band The Wastelanders, but the members all had Ambassador status with this hotel. It was nice; if she had to stay in a hotel in her own hometown, it was at least a ritzy one. Her luggage was brought up only moments after she arrived, with a complimentary cheeseboard from room service. It had been a while since she'd given cheese a hard look, but with reunion looming old memories were being dredged from the deeps. There had been a few months in school when pranking her with cheese had been a thing. She'd found it in her locker, left on her usual seats in class, and even (she suspected some of the meaner upperclassman of this one) written over her gym shirt with the kind that sprayed from a can.

Well, she couldn't let them get into her head already. She ate some of the goat feta on the rosemary crackers, and put the rest in the fridge.

She spent the next day pretending to catch up on her correspondence. Somehow she kept getting sidetracked into checking into one of the particularly dumb games on her phone instead. She gave up around three in the afternoon, and started to get ready though it was four hours before the event started. And she wasn’t getting dressed in something that required several hours to dress, either. The coded phrase for the reunion had been business casual, but Magenta didn’t believe in this barren subset of style and owned nothing resembling it. She’d be wearing some of the cigarette jeans the stylist for their tour had talked her into buying which ended up too tight for a night of jumping around on stage, and a blouse she’d picked up before her flight. It looked too dressy for her, so she figured it would work.

She zipped herself into the boots Kitt called "Maj's wingmen" and confronted herself in the mirror. “Am I going to have to get a warm-up drink?” she asked herself. “No, if I’m buzzed when I show up they’ll assume rock star cliches about me.”

It seemed ridiculous she was anxious. It wasn't like this was a group of strangers. Layla would be there. They regularly hung out when Magenta was in town—moreso now Layla lived with Warren, who had a decent living room for video game nights. Dorm apartments were only almost big enough to live in.

She struck out for the hotel bar, but ordered an espresso macchiato instead of liquor. A different kind of buzz would have to do.

There had been debate among the reunion committee, apparently, about having it in the Sky High gym. But aside from the fact that their first dance in the gym had been crashed by a villain, and afterward never felt quite the same to them again, there was the issue of getting a group of adults onto a shuttle in a timely manner. So instead the party was being held at a banquet hall. Because there were some security-risk people in their number, like Stronghold, it was a banquet hall in a government building where they could hire a few bouncers and be fairly assured that any intruder would at least be seen entering, and hopefully heard.

It also meant approaching the place felt a little like walking up to a bank. It looked fancy but not particularly welcoming.

Once she'd followed a couple she didn't recognize from behind to the actual banquet room, though, the crowd was a little less overpolished. Stronghold himself was apparently watching the entrance like a hawk. He bounded over to shake Magenta’s hand with a big grin, and then decide they should hug instead. He was wearing one of the signature Stronghold-color sweatshirts (where did he get those? Were they special made? She had never wondered about this until now) and carpenter jeans that surely were no longer being sold in stores.

“It’s so good to see you. How have you been? A band, right? You’re in a pretty big band! How is that?”

This kind of clueless greeting would be more annoying if Will weren't so incredibly sincere. He was owning that he hadn't been paying close attention, but that now, in this moment, he was interested in hearing more. She knew they'd be cut off before she said anything significant, but that he'd remember anything she did manage to say.

"Yeah, we've been touring most of this year. Feel like we're really building a good fanbase that shares a lot with each other, not just people who come to our concerts, now."

"That's awesome. Must feel great to kind of connect people. Oh, hey, have you talked to Freya? She's just back from teaching violin in Poland! As a cover for her other work, of course. You guys should talk!"

Magenta felt like this was the kind of tenuous connection neither she nor Freya would value the way Will thought they might, but she didn't resist. When reintroduced by Will, it became clear that he had heard about as much from Freya of her life as he had from Magenta. Magenta recognized her as the ice-power girl who had been held back to their grade after the second half of her sophomore year had been dedicated to recovering from a concussion and reconstructive surgery after a particularly poorly thought-out gym activity. Though Freya was a classical musician working as a superhero and Magenta was just a rock bassist, after a few awkward exchanges they discovered a shared a passion for the same fantasy thriller TV shows. They talked vampire casting aesthetics until Freya's old best friend arrived and pulled her away to get drinks.

Magenta both wanted a drink and wanted to not get tipsy around people so soon. Why was Layla not here yet? She was usually timely. Maybe she had tried to convince Warren to come--a losing proposition. There were few things Warren hated more than school functions, and one of those things was making nice at a stilted party. This was both of those things. Love blinded people, so Layla still tried to talk him into stuff he didn't want. As far as Magenta could tell, Warren got his way when he cared about something enough, but a lot of the time he was happy to do whatever Layla cared about.

Magenta had always really gotten Warren's antisocial bit. She'd just never had the balls to go hard-mode with it the way he did.

As she was trying to judge what circle it would pain her least to linger her way into when she heard an unfamiliar voice behind her say, "Hey Maj, how's it going?"

For a second (later she couldn't say why) she looked into the smiling face without recognition. Finally, though, logic suggested that a black young man in this somewhat white-washed crowd could only be one person. This took a split-second only, then she was ashamed. It was the overall expression of his face that confounded her most--by graduation he'd been already considerably taller and socially graceful. This man, though, had self-awareness.

"Hey!" she said, as if she hadn't missed her beat. "Please tell me the rumors are true and the cash bar isn't too far from here."

"I think it's true, but I cannot confirm," Ethan said, "I don't drink anywhere there are so many supers all together."

"That seems wise," she said.

#Magenta #Sky High #fanfiction #moodboard #Ethan #Magenta x Ethan #fanfic

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thetoffeefox · 7 years

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Why Do You Cheer So Loud? (NakuraXAslaug High school AU)

Hey, guys, I am back again with another work of art. Ahhhh Highschool raging hormones and the worst possible thing that could ever happen to you is missing cheer practice. Not that I would know because I was not a cheerleader in high school, I was however on an out of school cheer squad while in elementary school and was a cheerleader first two years of middle school but I would have rather play football. That was a big no-no at the time though so anime and comics became my life. So ending my rambling here we go!

NOTE: Aslaug is my OC and no one has permission to use her for any and all purposes. Nakura belongs to @nakuravanner any and all questions regarding him should be asked to them not me.

A frustrated huff comes from Aslaug as she looks up into the stands along the football field. C’mon just once look at her. She had to admit though he was very stunning while he had his nose in a book. The look of focus slightly knitted his eyebrows and his gaze was intense. Oh, those green eyes were immaculate. The sound of cheering and hoots got her attention as she looked over at her squad. Darcy...there she was showing off. A string of backflips and to finish it off the splits… Frowning, Aslaug crosses her arms and gets in a defensive stance as the seemingly perky blonde strutted right over to her...or more or less twitched her ass all the way over.

“Aslaug instead of daydreaming don’t you think we should be practicing our new routine?” The bubbly blonde chirped with a smirk.

“Wait...A new routine? What new routine?” A pit fell in her stomach as the words flew out of her mouth.

“I and the girls decided on Wednesday that we needed something new so we spiced our usual up a bit.” She stated admiring her pink bubblegum colored nails.

“We don’t have practice on Wednesday…” She gritted out from her teeth.

“Oh, I thought you knew we changed that too?!” She gasps out dramatically then continues. “Well I guess you will just have to see if one of the girls can help you pick up your slack...so much for your tutor session after school today.”

With that, she walks away leaving Aslaug feeling dejected. It wasn’t till she started going to the gym that her blood started to boil. Oh, that little snit!! What the hell was her problem!! She wasn’t sure what had caused the rift and dysfunction between the two of them. They had been friends since kindergarten. She could remember vividly the sleepovers almost every other Friday where the two of them and the other girls would play with their $5 makeup kits and braid each other's hair with ribbons and bows. Talking in awe and wonder of how they were all going to be on the cheer squad and date the football players. Then this past summer everything seemed to change. After Aslaug got back from her family vacation Darcy refused to speak a word to her, and then during the first quarter of the year, she started to become malicious. It first started with stealing her clothes from the locker room. Thankfully her cousin February had come upon her distraught in the locker room and turned one of the disgusting science lab coats into a very chic looking wrap dress with a thin black belt. How did she know it was Darcy? Well, she had the gall to come to school the next day wearing her clothes!!! Now she was making her fall behind in cheer practice!! She can't afford to miss her tutor session either…

“Trouble in paradise beautiful?” A smooth voice pulls her from her thoughts.

Looking up beautiful violet eyes bore down into hers. Shepherd….oh...oh Shepherd was talking to her? She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Well just perfect she’s probably a tomato now. Shepherd was one of the guys every girl dreamed of having him pay attention to, but despite his good looks and almost enchanting charm he made her feel uneasy, so when she sneaked a peak from her peripheral vision to see if anyone else was in the gym she felt a pit in her stomach when she realized she was alone.

“Um, just a disagreement with one of the girls nothing I can’t handle.” She chirped and moved to pass him.

“You sure I can’t help?” He states grabbing her arm and turning her back around to face him, his touch was tender, but it only made the pit in her stomach wider.

“I’m sure...thanks for asking though.” She mumbles pulling away and quickly darting into the locker room.

She placed herself against one of the cool concrete walls as her heart pounded in her ears and against her chest. After calming down, she slowly slips out of her practice clothes and hops into the shower letting the water pour down on her. Her mind instantly goes back to her two choices. Cheer squad or tutor session. For most girls like her, it’d be a no-brainer, Cheer squad! There was one thing keeping her from making that choice though, the green-eyed boy with his nose in a book. Nakura was her tutor buddy, he was helping her with her math. Most of all though he also seemed to be filling a gap in her that has been with her for so long. He wasn’t normally a boy she would go for. Normally it’d be someone like Slate, wide receiver of the football team, even though she had a sneaking suspicion his heart has been captured by her much smaller cousin who played the flute captured his heart and perfect smile, or maybe even Shepherd. Nakura though was aloof and mysterious, he excelled at school and had some of the best testing scores in the building. This started the well-known rivalry between him and Shepherd. Neither one stayed consistently at the top either. It was always a constant battle, that at times would come close to blows. In all honesty, though she could tell who would win, Shepherd was fit, but Nakura seemed to have a better upper body strength. Nakura would win hands down. A blush comes to her as she realizes that it wasn’t just a fact she stated in her head, she said it admiration. It was a type of admiration that left a fuzzy warm feeling in her chest...yeah...she could miss Cheer squad...With that, she went to the rest of her classes and at the last hour the drug on agonizingly slow as if to taunt she wracked her brain with ways to tell him what she felt. Everything sounded stupid, or ridiculous so she figured she would wing it. After the bell rung Aslaug felt herself make a mad dash for the door only to almost run smack right into Freya a long time friend of hers.

“Oh Aslaug I was looking for you, can you help me with getting the banner done for tonight's game?” She asked.

“I thought Darcy was supposed to help you with it?” She responded.

“She said she wasn't feeling good this past period and went home, please help me, Eglantine and Astrid aren't good about staying in the lines like you are.” She pleaded with her.

Aslaug huffed and nodded it wouldn't take too long to help, after all the last time she saw it, it was near to being complete. Her tutoring session didn't start for another 25 minutes. So with a small smile and a nod, Aslaug decided to help. When it came down to it she would never be able to say no to Freya. Freya was on the cheer squad and unlike most of them tended to be meek and shy when not in uniform, but the moment it was on she turned into a completely different person. She was like the little sister of the group, and any man that showed a hint of interest was put to the test by all of the girls. Well normally that is, Aslaug had caught sweet little Freya with Andre in the hall after hours. It was adorable, to say the least. When she thought about it, they were perfect for each other. Andre was an outgoing lovable and good hearted guy, while Freya was down to earth and logical girl. After a few more minutes they were done and had a good laugh about the paint smudged on their hands and cheeks. After washing up and bidding her goodbye Aslaug looked at the time on her phone. CRAP she was fifteen minutes late for her tutor session. Oh god please still be in the library she thought as dashed off to it. So many steps...why does this school have so many stairs? Panting she gets to the doors of the library and freezes...what...what the….WHAT THE HELL?!?! There sitting in her and Nakura’s usual spot was a perky blonde with bubblegum-colored nails that she was all too familiar with. No no no WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE!?! WITH HIM?!?! Growling she carefully slips in the library unnoticed and creeps her way to the aisle that right next to their table. This is a nightmare!! This is probably the worst thing that could ever happen!! Is nothing in the Cheer Squad sacred anymore? What happened to “Thou shalt not steal another's love interest?” Ok, maybe she hadn’t made it clear to the others that she was interested in Nakura, mainly because she was worried about her image and reputation. Now though, her popularity and her status on the squad meant nothing. If he reciprocated her feeling none of the other stuff mattered, not her popularity, not her spot on the squad, hell not even the nomination for homecoming and prom queen!!

“Ok since you carried the one over now what do you?” His voice even and neutral full of focus.

God, he was so hot when he was focused

“Multiply, then subtract?” Darcy question with feigned confusion.

Oh, that little bitch!! She doesn’t need help in Algebra!!! She’s in AP Algebra at the top of her fucking class!!

“Yeah, honestly I think you'll be just fine for next Friday's exam. You catch on pretty quick.” She hears him say with chivalry and praise.

That is supposed to be her he is praising not that dirty lying no good for nothing girl!! THAT IS IT!!! When she gets her hands on Darcy she is going to-

“Thank you so much!! I'm so so sorry to spring on you like this. Since Aslaug said she didn’t wanna bother with her tutor session this afternoon, I thought I’d try and talk to you about some of the stuff I was insecure about I hope you didn’t mind.” Darcy says her voice at this point oozing with fake innocence.

OH NO, SHE DIDN’T!!

“She didn’t want to come?..” He asked with anything but enthusiasm in his voice.

Oh...no no no

“Well, I’m sure she didn’t mean it like THAT. I think she’s just a bit stressed from skipping out on cheer practice is all. She really does love being on the squad.” She states overly sympathetic.

THAT’S IT!!

Kicking the bookshelf she instantly freezes as a bunch of books on the top shelf fall over and onto the ground. Oh, no...please no...why is this happening...she’s going to make herself look even worse now!! A hand then goes over her mouth spooking her instantly whirling around she’s greeted by Shepherd’s all too familiar violet eyes. He puts a finger to his lips hinting for her to be quiet. Instantly he walks over to the other side of the bookshelf.

“Sorry, hope none of those fell on anyone. Ah, Darcy pleasure seeing you here.” He purrs out.

“Oh um Shepherd, hi I didn’t realize you were here!!” Darcy chirps her attention instantly switching over to him.

“Studying with Nakura? Well, I guess he would be the second best choice.” She hears Shepherd state, obviously trying to provoke some type of reaction out of Nakura. Strangely enough, he is completely silent. “Oi, you gonna say anything?”

With that Aslaug took the distraction as an advantage for herself and quickly slipped into the back of the library and taking the teachers entrance as her escape route. This was so embarrassing!! How and why do these things happen to her? Then again, she had ample chance to fix this mess. All she would have to do is explain to Nakura the situation, but how? She can’t just walk up to him and be like “Oh yeah the Cheer squad captain is a psychotic lying two-faced cunt!” She had to think, had to be clever about it. Wait...just tell the truth!! Well...some of the truth...she didn’t want to say a word about spying on them that’d make her look weird and stalkerish. She will just say Freya asked for help on some things and then she looked at the time and realized how late she was and thought he probably went on home since she didn’t show up. Yeah, that was a good!! It was foolproof!! Now she will just head off back to the football field and prep for the game. He always goes to the game, once she gets a break she will be able to steal a moment and talk to him!!

After 5 hours the game was a half time and she had performed for the halftime show. She was exhausted. Her whole body burned and screamed in protest. Not only did she push herself to learn the new routine that Darcy had sprung on her, she also worked on their competition routine with the other girls. Of course, Darcy was nowhere to be seen….maybe she was choking on Shepherd’s dick...hopefully to death on that note. Shaking her head she had shaken such thoughts from her head. Here she was now though with the bubbly blonde right beside her acting as if nothing had happened, acting as if she hadn’t compromised any relationship her and Nakura had or could have. Moments later she sees her chance and slips away going into the crowd of people in the stands, but she knows where he sits far off in the corner and truth be told there he is. Something is different though, something about him feels almost...unapproachable...She can do this. She can do this. Taking a deep breath she makes her way to the top of the stand and sits next to him.

“Hey, enjoying the game?” She asks trying to act as normal as possible.

“Not really.” He states his eyes still trained on the book in front of him.

“Oh, maybe if you looked up from your book for a second you might.” She states with a small smile.

“If only everyone else had the luxury to waste their own and other time.” He hisses out closing the book with a define thud, then stands up to leave

She grabs onto his hand stopping him.

“Nakura, I’m really sorry about missing the tutor session, I was helping Freya with the banner for tonight and lost track of time. I thought you might of went home already since I was so late.” She instantly fires off desperate to keep him next to her, desperate to keep him there just long enough so she could ease herself into telling him how she felt.

“Do you think I don’t know a mirror that is placed just right in between the table and the first aisle or do you think I’m really that fucking dumb?” He snarls out.

….Mirror...in between…..no...no no..that..there isn’t. She’s frozen...Her eyes are wide in horror. Oh, no...there is a mirror. It sits right where he stated directly face the first bookshelf. It has inspirational quotes about believing in oneself...she knows it well her and the girls made that mirror freshman year. Her mouth opens and closes trying to find words. Trying to find anything to say, while her grip on his wrist tightens desperate to keep him from ripping away from her, but he does. She sits stunned for a few moments and hops up bolting down the bleachers calling out his name. He ignores her and disappears into the school building. She tries to run only to fall down flat on her face. A whimper leaves her and pulls herself up and sits back on her butt biting her lip while looking at her scraped up knees and hands. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to tell him how she felt and at the very least be friends or something and at the most, her dream come true he felt something back. She sat there feeling absolutely defeated. She sat there because if she tried to get up or move the tears would start to spill over.

“You aren’t having a good day are you?”

Shepherd...She looks at him and that’s all it takes for the tears to go past her cheeks and choked back sobs to quake her small frame. He smiles down at her sympathetically and quickly and gracefully scoops her up in his arms carrying her off towards the gym and into the locker room. Moments later he is bandaging up her cuts...maybe he wasn’t so bad...maybe she was just overreacting about the feeling he gave her before. After all, he’s been nothing but nice for the past seven hours. He smiles and wipes a stray tear from her cheek and begins to stroke it bringing a blush to her face.

“Ah there we go, that’s the look I like on you best.” He murmurs as his hand moves to her hair.

“Sh..Shepherd..” Aslaug stutters out, his boldness overwhelming her.

“You’re amazing, you know I’d really like to go on a date with you.” He purrs out his eyes drilling into hers as if they were trying to cast some type of hypnotic spell.

Pulling away and getting up a bit too quick she simply shakes her head no looking at the exit from the corner of her eye. No...she was right...her first feeling was right. This isn’t right, this situation feels wrong very wrong to the point that there is a pit in her stomach. She can run pretty fast even with banged up knees, right? Yeah, she can do that. Backing up again she looks at him from behind her eyelashes.

“Im..sorry..I’m just not interested, I shouldn’t say it but Darcy really likes you.” She mutters

“I don’t want her, she is honestly revolting to put it politely. You on the other hand...you're perfect.” He says standing up slightly following her.

Chasing her. He’s chasing her! Aslaug’s heart starts to pound in her chest. She has to find something to use as an excuse to get out of this situation. Anything cmon on Aslaug think!! He’s blocking the exit...maybe if she just quickly brushed past him acting as if she didn’t know what was really going on she could be able to slide past him. Yeah, it was worth a shot.

“I’m really flattered Shepherd, I’m just not interested thank you for taking care of me though I really appreciate it.” She states slipping by.

She did it. She slipped past him and here she is leaving the locker room without a single problem. A loud yelp rips from her throat as pain shoots up to her shoulder from a rough quick tug on her wrist. His lips are on hers moving against hers as he forces her against the wall. She squirms and kicks hitting him on his chest. She manages to pull away and gasps for air while trying to shove Shepherd off of her as his hands tug at her uniform. His grip tightens making another yelp of pain echo off the gym walls. Growling his grip goes to her throat tightening around it in some sort of attempt to silence her. She squeezed her eyes shut waiting for more of his assault. When she peeks she barely registers Shepherd on the ground hunched over with his hand gripping the lowers half of his face.

“I ever see you or hear about you touching her again, will be the last time you have hands.” Nakura seethes out.

He gently grabs her good wrist tugging her quickly out of the gym and down a few hallways until they are in the nurse's office. His chest is puffed out and his breathing is heavy as anger is clearly written all over his features. He tries to not let it show though as he starts to prep an ice pack for her strained shoulder. He saved her...After what happened early he still came to save her...She manages to whisper out a thank you only for him to grunt in response and press the ice pack against her shoulder a bit too roughly, making her flinch.

“What the hell were you doing with him anyways?” He growls out.

WHAT THE HELL IS HIS DEAL?!? It’s his fault she was with him in the first place!!

“I fell trying to chase after you, so he decided to stop and help me unlike you!” She shouts at him.

“Wow not only do you think I’m stupid, You’re apparently stupid yourself thinking that creep was actually trying to help just you and not himself.” He scoffs rolling his eyes.

“I’m not stupid!! Nor do I think you are either!!” She barks out angry tears building up.

“Then what the hell was that a few hours ago!? Why did you sit there and listen to every word coming out of her mouth?! You honestly expect me to believe you weren’t using your phone or something to record me and make me look like an idiot!?” He snarls out going towards her.

“You won’t even let me explain!” She cries out jumping up.

“Because I don’t want to hear some half-assed lie or excuse!!” Nakura counters throwing his hands up in the air.

“Oh my gosh you are so close minded!! How I am even in love with you!?” She yells as her tears once again start to fall.

…….Did she just?...Quickly she turns her back to him a blush on her face as tears keep falling. No no, once again this isn’t what she wanted...why is it all happening like this? She turns back looking at him, all she sees is his eyes widened and shock was written all over his face. She needs to go...she should go the girls are probably wondering where she is at this point, not that she will be able to do anything her shoulder is out for the count for at least a few days. She backs up only for Nakura to call her name making her freeze. His eyes are much softer than before and traces of shock can still be seen in them. She was….In love? With him? His hands slip under her elbows pulling her gently to him. Wow her face is so red right now...is she really that flustered? Here he was looking at probably the most well-known cheerleader of the entire county and she was flustered just by his touch. He never really cared if any of the popular girls paid attention to him before he met Aslaug. After a few tutoring sessions though that’s all he could ever think about was her and her alone and how much he wanted her to notice him. Granted her peppiness and loud cheering could be quite annoying at times, really who cheers THAT LOUD? A smile tugs at his face as he pulls her closer and bends down locking his lips with hers….well as Trampas would always say..go big or go home. Breaking away he tries to suppress a laugh but it slips out as a light chuckle if he thought her face was red before. She recovers though and stands on her tip toes pecking him then again and again.

“For a cheerleader with adorning fans you sure don’t have A+ kissing skills.” He states grinning. “You peck like a chicken.”

“Shut the hell up!! The nerve!!” She barks turn her back to him.

His laughter makes her turn slightly back to him, oh...wow he looks so amazing when he laughs...she has never seen him laugh wholeheartedly before. Fine if he wanted a real kiss he would get one. Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulls him down into a deep kiss. Moments later he returns it and wraps his arms around her waist. Just when she thought she was going to faint from lack of oxygen he pulls away and lightly tugs her back outside. Wondering where they were going she notices that he is taking her to the school nurse. Wait what is she supposed to say?! She can’t say she got it during the routine it wouldn’t make sense. She listens to him smoothly lie though saying she tripped and tried to catch herself. A few minutes later her arm was in a sling and the nurse stating that no way was she going to any game for the rest of the season at least not as a cheerleader. Strangely though that didn’t really phase her at all. The looks the other girls gave her as she was hand in hand with Nakura as he leads her up to the top of the bleachers didn’t phase her. The shunning scowl that Darcy gave her didn’t phase her either. Nor did the shocked faces of any of the other “popular” kids did either. She just slipped herself right into Nakura’s arms and watched the rest of game. If not being a cheerleader or prom queen was what she would have to sacrifice to have him then she would sacrifice it a thousand times over. That’s when he catches her attention with simply saying her name. A question forming in his eyes.

“Why do you cheer so loud?”

#OC #NakuraVanner #aslaugrivermoon #high school #cheerleading #football #angst #romance #revenge #jealousy

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tikilimawmaw · 7 years

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BRB

On the rare occasions that I care about my news feed, some things actually get my attention, aside from cute puppy gifs and stupid political fanaticism like wtf. Anyway, a “friend” shared this blog post about UPLB--my dear UPLB--and how uh-mazing that place is. I mean, I get it; it is a mystical, magical university (but not in a Hogwarts way) and, well, who could resist writing about, or instagramming it?

I apologize. I’m just at this point in my college life where I see everything under gray clouds, and I don’t mean the silvery kind. I mean dark, nimbus, let’s-do-relief-operations-after-this-storm, gray clouds. I hate that place, but every Monday when I return to the apartment there I’m always looking forward to walking the streets of Elbi. It’s weird.

Anyway, what I’m about to do is kind of a parallel narration according to the places described by the author/blogger. It’ll be a whiny, age-inappropriate sulking about how bad I feel in that wonderful place, but hey, I don’t know how to properly feel anymore. I need to do this.

(1 Baker Hall) The only fun I had in Baker Hall was Elbikon. Seriously. For one thing, the interior is very old--wooden steps, dramatic windows. Nothing wrong there; someone’s doing a splendid job on preservation (except that the temperature rises over unbearable degrees). Here’s the problem: the string ensemble of UPLB practices there. I hear violins, and I hate that. I hate missing the violin. It’s a piece of me that just doesn’t fit perfectly anymore when I try to get my shit together again. I mean, it fits, but not exact-o.

(2 Carillon Tower) For four years I’d lived in the same dormitory and every time I needed a jeepney ride, I pass by the Carillon Tower. It’s peaceful there; I hang around on my own and no one disturbs me because everyone else is too busy cuddling with his/her SO. It’s too peaceful actually, that all I could think about is that a pool of blood is too obvious at the foot of the tower. Besides, the gates are locked. No potential here.

Backspace. BACKSPACE.

(3 Student Union Building) Sigh. SU. Where do I even begin? Oh, wait, I need to get a number before I begin. Approximately 56 minutes before I get called. LIES! It’s like all you want to do there is rush in, get things done, rush out. But you can’t. Because you’re queued. The bathrooms are okay, I guess. I thought that SU was supposed to symbolize the university embracing the student, making them feel welcomed and that they are free to do whatever hell they want (bleargh). That’s funny, because I feel more welcomed by the river behind it.

(4 Trees) I have this theory that the trees in UPLB are majestically large because they feed upon the souls and hopes and dreams of thousands and thousands of students, on-time and delayed, every semester. This may be only in my head, but I honestly feel like my energy is always drained when I’m there. Maybe that’s why Thursday is drinking day: so students can at least carry on through Friday and the weekends without feeling like shit. Me? I drink Mondays. And Tuesdays. And We--

(5 DL Umali) I don’t think I’ll ever walk the stage of DL Umali with pride and confidence ever again. I used to be a student achiever: college scholar and honor roll, promising GWA. I shake hands with the dean; I get a certificate. Now, I’m just a probationary student with nine failed units and one INC that all happened in one epic semester. Epic fail, that is.

That’s not all. Our org holds our annual exhibit in the gallery at the basement. And I haven’t had any WIPs for a year. I can’t stress enough how I lost my will to draw. Recently, art has only been a way to calm me down. That’s great, right? At least I still have it. God.

(6 Nihon Koen) I think I’ll be seeing this torii regularly starting Tuesday. It’s a fun way to travel down from the UHS, where the psych is in TTh 2-5 pm.

UPLB Tip #562: There are desperate pervs in pretty decent bathrooms. DO NOT give in to the temptation no matter how much of your life you’ve given up, because you can get sick. Or pregnant. Or worst, videoed. Besides, his dick was tiny.

(7 Thai Pavillion) Hang around this exotic gazebo every afternoon before dusk if you want to ogle at fit people stretching, and jogging, and basically all other things you don’t have the energy for, a.k.a taking care of your body. Plus, they have dogs. Dogs are one of the reasons I don’t let go.

(8 Freedom Park) Again, a haven for healthy people: F-park. Fit park. Food park. Fuck park. Whatever you wish: it’s Freedom Park. Here’s a tip: unless you’re a Jesus person, don’t sit on the benches alone. Or at least have the guts to say “no, I don’t wanna hear about the five things that I need to know to be saved.” And besides, sitting alone on a bench in front of a lot of parked cars for a few hours is creepy. There was this one time I thought this old guy in his car was actually watching me. I could take the attention but that just sounds really slutty. Try sitting at the grandstand instead.

(9 Mariang Banga) It doesn’t matter what religion or cult you belong in: Mariang Banga is real. Ask permission before picking a flower, apologize for stepping on grass, always appreciate the weather no matter how insufferable it is, because she has power over this land, you mortal. (I still think she cursed me with a hole for a heart and a jelly for a brain.)

(10 Palma Bridge) There was a time in my early college years when Palma Bridge was called Sperm Bridge but I won’t give any hints. Get it? Hint? Like, odor? No? How about “call of the void”? “High place phenomenon”? Urge to jump? Still no? Good.

(11 Molawin Creek) This river is the same river I was talking about. It actually runs pretty far. In one of my stupid adventures pre destructive semesters, I tried to discover what was behind my then-dormitory. You guessed it: a forest. Hah okay, the river comes after it. There was this spot that I liked--clear and cold water, decently dry rocks, some shade, no one else around. Bathing naked was fun. But on my next adventure, I got lost, so uh-uh I’m not going back. Or will I? (I conclude that these adventures comprise a death wish.)

(12 Park behind humanities) Behind CAS Building is this construction where we get rubble from. And the mound of gravel that was never removed served as another seat for our tambayan, where I always feel so awkward.

(13 NCAS) One question: how the hell can I get on the NCAS rooftop? Ideation aside, a top view of O-park would be nice.

(14 Office of the University Registrar) Soon enough, the registrar will not include me in the list of officially enrolled students because ma’am, I am tired. I need a break. And probably my TOR.

(15 Hum/CAS) Pretend to be a younger batch if you look the part. I always do. It gives the illusion that I’m still full of hopes and dreams, and it’s a good excuse for asking about things that I should know. The three CAS buildings and Physci are the good places to do it. And Copeland gym.

(16 Two roads diverged by O-park) Lots of walks to clear the mind // Beware acquaintances, tell them you’re fine. // Groups of friends walking, pretty intimidating // Cross the road, the other side is empty: your thing.

(17 Gamma SIgma) Yeah, well I always thought it was a shade for the CSB. Sorrynotsorry.

(18 Heritage Tower) My happy memories include playing UNO with my friends under the Kwek-kwek tower and reading the ridiculous vandals like “Jherehmie luv Ehllah 4rvr 24″. I have nothing against Jherehmie and Ehllah, but come on, that tower was [awfully] repainted. I miss the times when I don’t suddenly stop and stare at nothing while I play UNO or sing karaoke with my friends. It’s awkward; I catch myself doing it. Nope. Nope.

UPLB Tip #847: It never hurts to be observant. Get really observant until you’re almost being a stalker. But not really. There are always patterns for everything, and you just really need to be good at knowing them. For example, your crush. Your crush has a schedule; on TTh he walks out of this building at this hour, on WF he enters another. Where does he live? Which jeepney does he usually ride, kanan or kaliwa? Observation, not stalking.

(19 UPLB Gate) I’ll be back, I promise.

(20 CEM...thingy) Forget that weird piece of artsy nonsense, that buried building at the back with the swastika is the mystery. I never bothered to know the history, but hey, it’s dark, wet and eerie--must be zombies.

(21 Raymundo) I always dub this as “not my turf”. Since I’m not familiar with it, I also have adventures here (just to be clear, adventure meant walking and exploring, nothing else). I’ll miss rolling under the gate after curfew and deciding where to eat (usually takes around 15 minutes).

(22 Never-ending bridge) Again, with the bridges. Look, it’s a long way down but the aesthetics are great. There’re these pretty purple (or were they blue?) flowers and a thick canopy of ferns and broad leaves. Die pretty.

UPLB Tip #1036: Don’t shut everyone out. Ever heard of “don’t burn your bridges”? Yeah, well if you’re that kind of person who possibly needs to utilize people in the future, then go. But geez is that all there is to connections, the utility? What about just having fun conversations together, and lunches and dinners? IMHO, the people you meet at your later years in college are more likely to become “colleagues” than “friends”. Unless he’s the one. Squeal.

(23 Forestry route) While the torii is my way down, this road takes me up to the psych.

(24 UPLB) I hate my house. I hate my school. I just want to be in between, in the journey. I know I’ll get to the two points at some time in my life but not now. A view from afar would be nice. “I’ll be there,” I would say, “just give me a moment to catch up.” I’ll be right back.

Welp. That was awfully long. So here’s the blog, again. Vivid pictures, beautiful words, I am nothing.

Edit: She’s on Tumblr. OH NO.

#awfully long #too much shit #duuuude #mediokerlivin #who am i even talking to

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insession-io · 5 years

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Having ‘The Talk’ with Your Teen

Is there a parent on the planet who doesn’t have at least a tiny bit of trepidation having “the talk” with their offspring about how they came to be and the importance of responsible engagement in sexual activity? Even the most sophisticated and sexually savvy person might question their ability to impart wise guidance on this essential topic, so sadly, many don’t.

In my therapy practice, the subject arises from time to time and I ask my clients what they were taught, by whom and whether it was an awkward or comfortable exchange. On extremely rare occasions, did they relate that they learned about the metaphorical “birds and bees” at an early age, explained in a way that they could comprehend. This is so across the board with both adult and adolescent clients.

What happens when healthy sex education is left lacking? Shame, misunderstanding, high-risk sexual behaviors, early experimentation, teen pregnancy and STD’s. There are some who would advise that education begin by kindergarten.

As a child of the 60’s, sex education in school took the form of boys in one room and girls in another as a gym teacher read from a book and showed a black and white film about biology and body parts, our periods, how to prevent pregnancy and what was then referred to as VD (Venereal Disease). I can’t vouch for what the boys heard, but that was the extent of our training on the topic.

I recall a commercial on television that sang, “I got it from Sandy, who got it from Paul. Paul got it from Ernestine who could’ve got it anywhere at all. And with my love, I gave it to you. Now that we’ve got it, what’re we gonna do? VD is for everybody.”

Nowhere in the mix was talk about feelings, how to recognize desire and what to do about it. Abstinence education simply didn’t work. Most of my peers experimented with sexual interactions in our teens. Even in my home where my mom (my dad was far too embarrassed to broach the subject with my sister and me), left the door open for conversation about sex, that aspect was not covered.

When I was 10, she handed me a book by the sanitary napkin company Modess, asked me to read it and come to her with any questions. I did and still felt like there was more that I could have asked but didn’t. I’m not sure how I learned, except to follow my own instincts about how to set boundaries with boyfriends throughout adolescence. I remember coming home from a date with a high school boyfriend with a lovely glowing bruise on the side of my neck and my mother’s response was, “I think P. is getting a bit too passionate.” Nothing more was said about it. When she walked in on me when I was in an about to be revealing and compromising position, with the young man I was seeing between high school and college, (fortunately the light was out in the room), she said, “It’s time for S. to go home now.” Again, no further conversation ensued. As I look back on those two incidents, I imagine she either felt she was in over her head, or she trusted that I would figure it out on my own. I wish she had the vocabulary, or ability to have that discussion. My desire for emotional intimacy gave way to physical intimacy that I didn’t understand and couldn’t always control. Clearly, I was not alone in my struggle.

When my son was young, and my husband was still alive, he had ‘the talk’ with Adam. He was around eight at the time and had begun inquiring. Although Michael was reluctant, I reminded him that if our child was asking, he wasn’t too young and if he didn’t talk about it, I would. He died when our son was 11, so I revisited the subject and told Adam that he could ask me anything he wanted to, and I would answer honestly, but that I couldn’t tell him what it was like to be a man. I chose a few trusted male friends as his guides since they shared my values about sex, relationships and women. One became his go-to guy for nearly everything and eventually, Phil was more than a mentor, but became a man that Adam considered a surrogate father.

When Adam was 14, we had what I refer to as, “the three-part sex talk”.

Respect yourself and your partner(s) Safer sex practices I’m too young to be a grandmother

It became a standard conversation over the years as he began new relationships. By the time he was in a relationship with a young woman who had a then 3-year-old little boy, he acknowledged the first two, but laughingly reminded me, “Mom, you’re not too young to be a grandmother anymore.”

I feel gratified that he has been respectful of the women in his life. I recall that when he was a tween, we had the “no means no” conversation. I reminded him that it applied to him as well. If a partner wanted to touch him and he didn’t want it, he had the right to decline, since boys are not often given that permission to maintain body boundaries.

Ideas for making the conversation easier:

Educate yourself first. There are numerous books for tweens and a range from childhood through adolescence.

Practice conversations in the mirror, writing down a script if necessary. Remember what you were taught and determine that you will use what was helpful and discard anything that was detrimental.

Share information at an appropriate comprehension level for your child.

Although many young people are more sophisticated than previous generations, there is still confusion. Clarify any misunderstanding. Sometimes, to save face, a teen will claim to know more than they do. Children are sometimes exposed early on to on line pornography which can be damaging to their development.

Speak to them about the dangers of sexting, or posting anything compromising on social media.

Get past your embarrassment or at least admit to your child that you are experiencing it. That honesty is part of the intimacy of any relationship and models what you want him or her to have.

Speak about the idea that sex is about more than “get it on, get it up, get it in, get it off, get it out”. Nor is it about just what goes on below the belly button. It is about people relating from the heart, head and body.

Encourage open communication between your child and potential partner(s) throughout their lives.

Speak to them about touch by consent. With the proliferation of #metoo stories from both men and women, it is essential. If they want to touch someone, ask first and receive a verbal yes, then touch is welcome. If, instead, the response is no, or uncertainty, then it is unwelcome. A wonderful video explains it well that relates tea with consent. Remind them that no one has the right to touch another without their explicit permission, regardless of level of desire, expectation or nature of the relationship.

Don’t make an assumption about your child’s sexual orientation. Even if it is uncomfortable and perhaps not in keeping with your expectations and/or religious orientation, be open to the idea that they have the inherent right to experience love with the partner of their choice, regardless of gender. PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) is a valuable resource for education and support.

By Edie Weinstein, MSW, LSW

Jennifer Josey LPC LMFT CSAT of Intuitive Pathways Recovery specializes in Sex Addiction Counseling Houston Texas, love addiction, recovery for couples from sex and love addiction, trauma resolution for partners of sex addicts and group therapy. Sexual addiction is a serious problem that affects people of all socioeconomic status, educational status, both males and females and even teenagers and preadolescent children.

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Please please do not say your going to have to pay 4k+ or something stupid, All my mates found car insurances for under 3k!""

Insurance on 2009 A4 TFSI (I'm 19)?

What would be the insurance rate for a 2009 Audi A4 TFSI (4 cilinder 2.0 turbo) for me, I'm 19 years old and I live in Florida. I have a 2008 335i which is V6 twin-turbo and the insurance is high, can't afford US$6000 a semester. thank u""

Anyone know any Vision Insurance Companies?

Trying to find vision insurance.

""Car Insurance in GA, if it is expired?""

i dont know if this is the right category, but my insurance expired and i drove the car not knowing, and i just went to my insurance provider and they said i will be fined? what type of fine and does it add points to my license? any additional information to it that i dont know? it is in Georgia.""

Southwest Florida car insurance rates?

Why are they so high? I recently moved here from Mass and found that the SAME insurance policy with the EXACT SAME coverage was literally DOUBLE!!! It went from $70 monthly to $144!!!

Where can I get affordable health insurance?

I am a full time college student, and my school offers insurance, but it is expensive. I need basic health care to cover doctors visits, specialist visits, and x rays. The main reason I need coverage is that my back is messed up from a car accident about a year and a half ago and I can't take the pain anymore. I went to my states website and the insurance they offer is currently not accepting applications. I have looked at tons of sites online, but so far am having no luck. Any advice would be appreciated.""

Can car insurance be under my name if the title of my bfs car is in his name?

My bf is getting his mothers car. Can he put the title and register it in his name but have the car insurance in my name? He wants the insurance in my name so that he has a better rate. He had a DWI 2 years ago. If that is possible what kind of issues could i possibly have if the insurance is in my name.

Would insurance for a VW Golf be cheap or expensive?

I'm 17 years old currently doing driving lessons and I'm thinking about a VW Golf for my first car. Would the insurance be high or low and which engine size would be the best to start off with?

How much would i expect to pay insurance on a chevy nova?

I might be getting chevy nova from a guy in town but i need to know how much insurance will b or else i cant get it.... i know there are a lot of variables it is rwd(obviously lol) and has 350cid engine.... i believe we have nationwide insurance so ya... i would use it as a an everyday car too...

2000 Mitsubishi Eclipse RS. Need Reviews & Insurance prices?

Hi, im 16 I am thinking of buying a 2000 Mitsubishi Eclipse RS Mileage: 72,130 Transmission: AUTO $3,960 Is this car good for a teen? Is maintenance expensive? Will my insurance rate be higher than usual? Thank you.""

Do I need to keep insurance on a broken down car?

My son's car is not working and seemingly not worth repairing. Do I need to continue insuring it until we get rid of it?

Insurance for a 16 year old. ?

I turn 16 on December 30th, and i can get my license on January 4th. I know insurance costs less if you have a 3.0 or something like that in California, thats the state i'm asking about. Our new semester starts when we go back to school on the 3rd or something like that and i will have all a's. I was wondering if anyone knew if they look at those grades, or the final grades from the semester before? this is for the deduction on the insurance, anyone know?""

""Insurance estimate on Integra, Mustang?""

Hey. So I am getting my first car in a couple months, and my dad said I could choose which car, but keep it in a low price range. I've always liked Integras, since I was little, and I always wanted it to be my first car, so thats in consideration. And my dad said get a mustang. I would like to know how much insurance is on each? The cars would be- Acura Integra 1996-2001 (LS, RS, SE, GS) Under my dads name (age 50) I would be secondary driver Silver or black or white Roughly 150k miles Maybe 25 miles a day Would buy used around 2000$ - 4000$ Im aware its a luxury car, thus insurance being a tad more expensive How much would you think insurance would be? We have Progressive but I just want a estimate - Maybe like the average of how much people with integras pay for insurance. Mustang 2004 Under my dads name (age 50) I would be secondary driver Black or silver Maybe 100k miles 25 miles/ day Used around 4000$ - 5000$ Not luxury, but its a sports car, Im guessing insurance is more expensive for it""

I am 16 almost 17 and am looking for a car and am wondering what the insurance rats would be on a porsche 944

this would be my second car and its a really nice 1985 Porsche 944 (non-turbo) it has only 67K miles on it and is in excellent shape I am just wondering if my insurance would go up i pay about 130 $ a month on a Pontiac grand am ... would it go up? if so do you know how much?

Im 16 and my parents are getting me a car for my 17th birhday. where can i find out about insurance costs?

most places on the phone wont answer how much it would cost because im still 16 :/ is there anywhere that would give me a quote?? Im in the UK by the way :)

kentucky insurance producer license

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/motorbike-insurance-online-quote-miles-york/"

0 notes

momosmessages · 6 years

Text

Day of Language and other Miscommunications

As I mentioned in my previous post, I returned to the United States last week to attend a friend’s wedding. A few days beforehand, I wrote this post. I had issues with my house’s internet, and therefore, could not post it.

On this blog, I want to share all of my experiences here - both the good and bad. I want this blog, I want to be as real, authentic, and open as possible.

I want share my successes AND my frustrations. I feel that this post shares both.

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

“Now I see the mystery of your loneliness .”

― William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well

Today is Monday, April 23, the anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birth. Here in Barranquilla, it’s celebrated “Language Day.”

Apparently there is another holiday called “English Day”, but it’s in August.

I felt that the meaning behind the word “language” was both fitting and ironic for the events which took place.

Yesterday started off how the day would be - full of miscommunication.

On Monday mornings, Silvia doesn’t have class in the first period, but I do. I always forget this. I think this is a more recent thing though, because I vividly remember this wasn’t a problem when I first moved.

Normally Silvia makes my breakfast. But because she goes to school later, she slept in. When I came out of my room, ready to go to school, she was in the middle of getting ready. Roberto was awake because he will leave the house at the same time as Silvia and I for school. He realized this dilemma and tried to compensate.

He opened a new bag of milk and then attempted to open my new bag of cereal, “Zucaritas” (Frosted Flakes). I normally don’t eat that for breakfast; I only snack on it throughout the day. I felt bad that he already opened a new bag of milk, so I told him I’d just pour the cereal myself. I ate it with a yogurt drink I had bought the week before, knowing cereal alone would not satisfy my hunger.

When I was almost finished eating, Roberto informed me in broken English that he was leaving and his mom was going in later, because of her schedule. It seemed to me as if she was almost ready to leave, so I decided to wait for her and not walk with Roberto.

And of course, I assumed wrong.

After 10 extra minutes of waiting, I realized my mistake. I then saw no point in walking to school on my own. I was already late, and I knew that my students this period were working on a project. I waited another 5 minutes for her to be ready, and we left together.

By the time we got to school, there was only 15 minutes left of the first period.

This class was the 11th grade Advanced Level, and they were working on career-themed posters in English. The objective was to create a group presentation in English about their career of choice. They had to include what steps one must take to obtain that career, the pros and cons, the salary, etc.

I helped one student who wanted to be a lawyer. She asked me what qualifications she needed to study or work as a lawyer in the United States. I told her she’d first have to take an English level test to prove she’s proficient enough of the language. Then she’d have to take at least a bar examination. It made me remember my privilege as an American citizen.

Unknown to me, this would be my only class of the day. As I entered my second classroom, a group of 8th grade Beginner-Level, the my students just looked at me and all nodded their heads “No” in silence. Another teacher sat at the desk, unaware of my presence and busy taking attendance. And so I slowly retreated, wondering what this was all about.

I met Mentor outside of the teacher’s room. We shook hands.

Whenever I first see him in the morning, he will shake my hand.

After he shook my hand, he told me he was sick. Great.

I asked him what was going on, and if it had something to do with Language Day. He told me that there would be an event in the third period. However, the second period classes were switched with the third period classes.

This meant that I had this period free. So I reminded him of a meeting we had.

Back Story - Social Project or Hidden Imperialism?

As a mandatory element of the Colombia Bilingue program, English Teaching Fellows must create what is called the “Social Project”. It is a project that is meant to help better the community in some way. It can be themed around helping the environment, helping women and children, promoting literacy, etc.

At the beginning of our semesters, all fellows had to write a detailed proposal. We had to include the dates, teacher involvement, the budget, etc.

My proposal was due the day after my first day at my school. From the start I had mixed feelings about this project. I felt like it was a “White Man’s Burden” to come to a country you barely know, and start telling them what’s best for them, without knowing the community’s needs at all. And as a white person specifically, this made me uncomfortable.

But I did it anyway, because I had to.

I created an event centered around Earth day. I wrote that students would have booths with presentations about how to keep the Earth environmentally friendly. I pictured a student art contest, where students had to create art pieces out of recycled materials. I envisioned students singing songs, or reading poetry about the environment.

But every time I brought it up to Mentor, he would talk about my English Club, or brush it off.

My English club is supposed to be part of my “Cultural Hour” - another mandatory element of the program.

Last semester’s fellows did not have to create social project as elaborate ours. So the last fellow at my school, who I am often compared to, only did an English Club.

About a month ago, a little before Semana Santa, I reminded Mentor that I needed to begin preparing for my Social Project. He told me that Julio*, a science teacher, already had a project going on that was similar to mine. I felt more comfortable with the idea of working with an already ongoing project, so I told him I’d be happy to help. Mentor told me he’d set up a meeting with me and Julio, but never did.

At this time we were also trying to get the English Club started. Mentor needed to create a permission letter for parents, as well as select certain students for the club. Every time I mentioned English Club, he would say an excuse about how busy he was and would try to work on it the next day.

I first hand how difficult a teacher’s life can be, so I decided to remain patient.I figured I wouldn’t press too much about the Social Project, and let him work on one thing at a time.

But last week RC told me that I needed to start working on my project, pronto. Apparently, my Social Project Proposal was chosen as one of few out of Barranquilla. I even learned today that the Ministry liked my proposal so much, they want to put it in a book for next year’s fellows.

THE COLOMBIAN GOVERNMENT WANT TO PUT ME IN A BOOK. I REPEAT - THE COLOMBIAN GOVERNMENT WANTS TO PUT ME IN A BOOOOOOK!

This week I am traveling home to attend a close friend’s wedding. Therefore, RC told me she’d come to the school in order to convince my Mentor realize that this was serious. She said she had to observe me in a class anyway, so she’d kill two birds with one stone.

In fact, last week I had not one person but TWO pepole observing my class, at the same time. The other woman, Jinger*, came straight from the Ministry. Afterwards she asked me questions for a survey. Jinger also told me how much the Ministry liked my proposal. This made it feel so much more real!

After the class, RC talked my principal and Julio, stressing the situation. Julio said he was willing to work with me. They planned to have a meeting for Monday, April 23 at 9am.

Back to Earth

And of course, what we didn’t plan for, was the Language Day Event.

In yesterday’s “second” period, the 10th grade girls had created stands outside their auditorium, across from the gym. Every girl was assigned to create a poster featuring a famous artist. One of my favorite students, Jordan*, explained everything to me, because of course, I had no idea what was going on. Her English is amazing, she plays three different instruments, and if I were her age, I’d want to be friends with her.

One table had a box which said: “Classic” and “Modern”. Students were encouraged to vote for which type of literature they preferred.

A variety of books were laid out across tables. Never in my life had I seen so many Spanish books all at once. I’m just only used to seeing it as a teeny tiny section in a Barnes and Nobles.

Some students got really into it!

It was also super cool to see famous young adult novels in Spanish, such as John Green books, Harry Potter, and the Book Thief.

Student-made posters of famous authors

The gym was decorated with balloons of all colors of the rainbow. Small cut-out alphabet letters hung on string from both sides of the bleachers. Larger cut-out letters spelled “Dia de Idioma” over the Balloon gateway.

Here, students presented poetry, sang and played instruments, and even acted out poems.

Literature has such an immense affect on my own culture.

An 11th grade student performing a poem

It was cool to see for myself how it can have a similar affect on another community that’s so different than my own.

When RC came to the school, these presentations were still going on. At first I couldn’t find Mentor.

Students singing a song

Instead I found Julio, who told me in Spanish (I think) was that we couldn’t have the meeting because of the event. I explained that RC was physically here, and he told me to just talk to Mentor, who in that moment, seemed to come out of nowhere.

Students acting out a poem

I told him RC was here. He just said “No, we changed the meeting to next Friday.”

I just blinked at him with confusion.

“Did you already talk to RC?”

“No.”

“Um, okay. But she’s here?”

“Oh RC is here?”

*Inner face-palm*.

“Yes, she’s here in the principal’s office.”

Mentor then told me how the Ministry sent him an e-mail, saying they would visit next Friday. Even though I told him that morning and last Friday that we had a meeting with RC, he seemed to have fused her and the Ministry together.

So, we went to the principal’s office without Julio.

Now, this part is what makes me most frustrated. In this conversation, I felt like although RC tried to talk to Mentor about my proposal, he only talked about the ideas that HE had. Mentor and I had talked about his ideas the past Friday. I had explained that a lot of his ideas were very similar to my ideas in my proposal.

But again here today, he talked about the project as if these ideas were all new, and just repeated things that RC and I had been saying on repeat. For example, HE even told RC how we “really had to hash out the details of the project”, yet didn’t provide any solutions. And this was the entire reason why RC had come in the first place!!!!

In this conversation I just felt so frustrated. I felt like I couldn’t speak because he just kept talking, and he never asked me to contribute. The only time I spoke was at the end of the meeting, when RC asked me if I had questions.

I just felt so thwarted. Here I was, a 24 year old adult woman, feeling like I’m 12 years old parent was speaking to a teacher for me.

The Ministry had selected ME specifically for my own project, yet he completely overlooked this fact. I knew my RC was trying to politely stick to the facts and be solution oriented.

I hate saying this, but through his actions felt like he was just being a stereotypical man. In my experience in working with men, this happens so often. Also in the past, the men I’ve worked with won’t do something unless they think it’s their idea, which was totally happening now.

At the end of the conversation, I suggested to Mentor that the two of us should meet tomorrow and finalize the details. I said that at home after school, I would reorganize my proposal to fit for May, and he agreed. I said want to have something done before I leave on Thursday.

RC left, I talked with him a little more. I asked him at what time tomorrow he was free to talk more about the proposal. I said I was free tomorrow at fourth period.

But then he then told me at fourth period that the 10th grade would be presenting.

“Tomorrow they’re presenting? Not today?”

“No, today they are presenting.”

“Um okay so are you free tomorrow?”

“Oh no I am not.”

“Okay, so when are you free to go over the proposal once it’s reorganized?”

“Oh, can’t we do it at today’s meeting?”

Every Monday we have a meeting with the other English teachers. They normally speak in Spanish the whole time, but I was determined to have a say this time. I felt it was important to inform the other teachers about my project, since this did involve English. But since I didn’t have a revised proposal and we just talked about this, it didn’t make sense. I explained myself again.

I think after a few times he understood, and we settled on a time on Wednesday instead.

Normally that wouldn’t have made me impatient, but I felt so pissed off inside. We literally had just talked about this, and I felt like my head was spinning in circles.

The following period, the 10th grade really were presenting. I had noticed in the beginning of the morning that they had decorated the Auditorium in red and black. But I didn’t know the purpose of it!

When I returned for the second part of the morning, a red carpet was rolled out. The windows were covered with long strips of red paper.

About a dozen tables lined the inner perimeter, surrounded by students in uniform, and in red and black costumes. Cut-out decorations of spades, hearts, diamonds, and clovers covered the walls, and pop music blasted from the speakers.

I then bumped into one Spanish teacher. She informed me that this was supposed to be a “Casino”. The “games” were like card-games, but based off of literature. She then had one student take me by the arm and led me to a table. She wore a purple blazer over white button down shirt, and half of her face was full of white makeup.

At this table, students had a deck of cards and poker chips spread out. From what I understood, three people at a time were to pick and flip a card. Whoever had the lowest value card won a poker chip.

If you had a chip, you could use it to bet on other games.

I found one of my co-teachers, JF playing a game. The students had orally told a story, and contestants had to answer a series of written questions about it. JF was so excited about it.

“Here if you win, you win a free book!”

I thought that was pretty neat.

I had also seen the principal and other teachers there, participating in games.

As I walked around the auditorium, a sentimental yet melancholy feeling came over me. This event and it’s atmosphere reminded me of all the events me and my City Year team did. Almost every month we’d have some sort of event, including two huge events during the year for students and parents. We got so into decorating that we’d plan months in advance.

It made me reminisce on how much fun we had making it, especially because we made it on our own. We had a lot of freedom with our events, and though it was a lot of work, we truly enjoyed it.

A thought dawned on me - that even though I was an experienced, well-equipped and creative event planner, I wouldn’t have the freedom to make my Social Project as awesome as it deserved to be.

In the classroom I feel as though I don’t have much control, because the teachers rarely plan with me. I thought that maybe this would allow me to feel in charge of my time here. I had also thought this about the English Club. But since that isn’t happening either anytime soon.

And once again, I felt powerless. I feel like I have so much potential to help students here, but it’s not being used. And it’s unfair to me, to the students, and to the government.

I left the auditorium and walked to the audio visual room. One of my favorite students, Jessa* told me that she would be presenting there. These were the girls who put on the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade for me. And so, I tried to put on a happy mask over my true feelings.

The room was covered from top to bottom in constellations. Black, ripped garbage bags had been tapped onto the walls, and string Christmas lights were pinned at the top, and lit all around the room. Jessa and another girl, Joy* welcomed me in white lab coats. On their pockets were names of a Nobel Science winner. There were about a dozen students in the room, and everyone had a specific constellation or planet to explain. Jessa and Joy knew my spanish wasn’t enough to fully understand everyone, so they went around the room with me, translating what every presenter said.

Some girls connected the planets to literature. One talked about a fictional planet from the “I am Number Four” series.

I am always amazed by these girls. They work so hard and always put on incredible presentations.

My takeaway from the day is this:

I love how holidays are celebrated here. It reminds me and encourages me to celebrate every aspect of life. I wish we had a Language Day celebration like this in the United States!

But if having so many celebrations comes with a price, and causes so many mishaps, like schedule changes and missed time, I think I’d instead take a consistent schedule any day.

#language day #23 de abril #english teacher #frustrations #shakespeare #colombia #barranquilla #teaching fellow #social project

0 notes

sentrava · 6 years

Text

13 Questions NOT to Ask a Travel Writer

Writing about writing—how cliché, right? And yet, if I learned anything over this past decade of living, it’s that people love a good industry post. And I’m all about giving the people what they want, which today just happens to be a compilation of commonly asked questions not to ask a travel writer.

It never fails when I’m meeting someone for the first time and they find out what I do for a living a firing squad of inquiries is forthcoming. I can almost predict how the interrogation is going to go down: “what’s your favorite country?” “I’m going to Jamaica soon, what should I do there?” and “Can I have your job?”

Just for fun, I put the question out there in one of my think tanks of fellow veteran travel writers to see what nettled other writers; the feedback was off-the-chain, some of it hilarious, others OMG-inducing. Below, with the permission of each writer mentioned, I’ve included a few of my favorites.

(Note that this is a bit tongue-in-cheek. We all love what we do and fully realize it’s a bit of an enigma to many. So take this post with a grain of salt. And if you have asked me any of the below questions before, no, you will not be struck from my Christmas card mailing list.)

“What’s your favorite country?”

Assumedly, most of us have been to dozens of countries—for me, it’s somewhere over 120, last I counted. Could you pick one child you prefer over the other, one city you can’t live without, one food you’d eat every day for the rest of your life? That’s the equivalent to asking what my favorite country is. Similarly, many writers noted cringing when being asked how many countries they’d visited; personally, I’m not a passport stamp-counter, but I have been interviewed for publications before where I was made to tally up everywhere I’ve been, so I have a general sense of the range I’ve visited.

Instead, ask this: Be specific. Say, “I’m a fan of adventure and I like warmer destinations. I don’t want to fly more than four hours from my home base. Do you have a country recommendation for me based on those parameters?” To which, I would say, “YES, ABSOLUTELY,” then ramble on about Portugal/South Africa/Grenada, depending on where you live. I’m not a mind-reader, and I can’t suss out your budget, your travel style, your hobbies if you don’t tell me.

“I’m going to X destination. Do you have any tips?”

Well, first of all, that’s pretty vague. Secondly, if it’s somewhere I’ve been, it’s highly likely I’ve blogged about, which is why I’ve spent hours of my life organizing my content and building out a destinations page that makes it easy for you to find said posts by the country or the state. Start there! It’s also likely that if I have any tips at all, I’ve shared them via this free resource—I promise, I don’t squirrel away my best bits in the back of my mind; on most subjects, I’m an open book. If your question isn’t answered, be a tad bit more specific. I’m more than happy to answer requests for travel tips, so long as it doesn’t take me hours of research to do it.

Instead, ask this: “I’m going to Scotland, and I know you’ve blogged about it ad nauseam. I read all your posts on planning a road trip to the Highlands and was wondering if you think three days is enough to see the major sights?” I love a good to-the-point question that I can respond to instantly, and bonus points for you for having already done the research and read the posts I have contributed on the topic.

“You haven’t been to Thailand?!? How have you not been to Thailand?”

Well, I don’t know. It’s never been that high on my list, every travel blogger from here to Timbuktu has covered it extensively, not to mention, it’s hella far from where I live. I looked at visiting a friend there this winter, and while flights weren’t bad (around $1000 round-trip), it was going to be a logistical nightmare—a minimum of 30 hours in transit each way. That means, I’m going to need to stay two to three weeks to feel like it’s worth the trip. At this point in my career, I don’t have two to three weeks to spare as we’re booked on back-to-back projects constantly (it’s a good problem to have). The good news is that when (if?) I retire someday, I’ll have plenty of unexplored territory to conquer!

Instead, ask this: “Is there anywhere you’re dying to go that you haven’t been already?” To which, I’d say: “Absolutely! So many places. Just a few off the top of my head: Thailand, Indonesia, Palau, Greenland, the list goes on.” And there are plenty of places I’m dying to go back to for a second, third, fourth visit, as well (see: India, Vietnam, Cambodia, most of the world). It is a bit insulting, though, when someone feigns offense that I haven’t been somewhere—people, it’s a huge world, and I’m not in any big rush to see it! In an ideal world, I’d adopt the slow travel mentality and take a few months in each place I visited (but again, see: have a career, a house, a dog).

“So … how much do you make as a travel writer?”

I was surprised how many in my secret travel writing group said this is a common question they receive (the nerve of some people!). One fellow travel writer told me: “The boldness of questions like ‘so how much do you make as a travel writer?’ is very irritating. I walked out of a business one time because the CEO started his presentation with ‘since you don’t make much money, I’m sorry to disappoint that we won’t be providing swag.'” Look, unless you are my spouse or my accountant, stay out of my finances, please. I’ve gotten variations from PR folks I know who just assume that freelance writer = makes peanuts (or maybe they’re projecting their own paltry salary onto us? … I’m not quite sure). That’s not necessarily true. Those of us who were smart and have been in the game for quite some time have likely diversified into other ventures—corporate copywriting, project management, consulting—that can be rather lucrative. Check out how my writing/photography idol Lola Akinmade Åkerström does it here.

Instead, ask this: Nothing. There’s nothing you should ask instead of this, as you don’t broach the subject of money with any professional. One question I don’t mind getting, however, is something a bit pointed like: “There’s no denying that working in media has taken a hit over the past decades as publications have shuttered and rates have dropped significantly. You’ve clearly weathered the storm. What’s been your key to survival?”

“What do you do when you aren’t traveling?”

“WRITE. What else?” exclaimed one of my freelance pals, exasperated by having to answer this all the time. Sure, the travel is the glamorous part (but it’s not all glamor … if only I could take you along for a true peek behind the curtain!), but the majority of time when I’m not on the road, I’m pounding on my keyboard in long 16-hour-a-day stretches trying to meet existing deadlines, and do all the normal admin stuff that accompanies running your own business. And yes, there are plenty of days I never get out of my pajamas (unless to go to the gym), and my personal hygiene definitely takes a hit. #RoadWarriorProblemsYall

Instead, ask this: “Wow, that must be exhausting being on the road all the time. Do you ever get down time? What do you most look forward to when you’re not on the road?” For me, I’d answer: “having a routine. Traveling so often can make it hard to keep a steady sleep cycle, and my fitness activity suffers. When I’m home, I try to develop good habits and a daily routine that starts with a workout before I’m seated at my desk for a long 12- to 14-hour day of writing.”

“That’s a real job?”

Yep. Just like being a surgeon or a weather analyst or a circus performer is a real job, so is travel writing. In this day and age when newspapers are virtually non-existent and magazines are filling their pages with thinly-veiled advertisements, many of us have ventured into more tourism marketing kinds of content projects. I’d say a solid half of my friends and acquaintances still have zero clue what I do (nor do they ask, tbh) and assume that the blog is my job (and sure it’s a part of it, but more like 30 percent of the overall work we do).

Instead, say this: “That sounds like a very cool gig! It’s no doubt a lot of work, too. How did you get into such a profession?” I’m always more than happy to share my trajectory from newspaper journalist and sports marketer to entertainment reporter to, much later, travel writer.

“Wow … you mean you, like, get to travel for FREE?!?”

I mean, free is relative—and let’s revert back to the previous question and remind you that this is a job. If your firm were to send you to Vegas for a week for a conference to collect CE hours, would they expect you to foot the bill? Unlikely. But just like you incur out-of-pocket expenses, so do we. And because the majority of us are freelance, we have no one to reimburse us (and if you’re on a magazine assignment, your per diem is paltry at best). So, plenty of costs like airport parking, meals, all tips and bar bills do, in fact, come out of our overall paycheck, which isn’t awesome.

Instead, ask this: I’ve got nothing.

“Oh, you’re always on vacation!”

Ha! This is one of those questions us writers just smile, nod and internally sigh about. Do we have jobs that look enviable from the outside and are, no doubt, far more fulfilling than sitting in a neon-lit cubicle? Absolutely. Do we have to hustle our asses off, put in long 16-hour days no matter if we’re in our home offices or on the road? Also, true. And that beach shot you saw on our Instagram? Was probably something we walked out onto a balcony to snap in between site visits and interviews to do our job of content marketing and researching the destination, not necessarily what we were doing all day. There have been plenty of assignments I’ve gone on to tropical destinations where I didn’t put on a bathing suit or step out onto the sand once. (I know, I know, it still beats being in an office, and I agree.)

Plus, just because we’re on assignment in one destination doesn’t mean that deadlines for other publications or client work just waits for us to return home; while traveling, I’m constantly looking for a coffee shop with reliable WiFi to pop into midday or between meetings to put out a client fire or two. If you’re going to run your own business, you have to be accessible at all times, so unless I’m in a small town where there’s no cell service (Lord help us all because then the panic attacks really ensue!), I’m likely checking my email on my phone every 15 minutes or so. Not to mention, destinations really want to get the most out of their money and, thus, often don’t leave us much free time at all when we’re on the road, so often I’ll finally get to my hotel room at 10pm for the first time all day, only to pound away on my keyboard filing copy until 2am, then wake up at 6 and start that cycle all over again. TL;DR this career is not for those who need eight hours of sleep a night.

Instead, ask this: “If you were traveling for vacation and not for work, where would you go?” People always seem surprised that despite my far-flung travels to Borneo, Rwanda, Brazil and beyond, I prefer Florida’s own Gulf Coast for all my leisure travels. When I’m not on assignment, I want the most relaxing place I can reach in the least amount of time. No need to kill my coveted time off on a long-haul flight. Or best of all, I stay home in that gorgeous Victorian I rarely get to see!

“Do you need an assistant to carry your baggage?”

“If I could afford someone to be my sherpa and otherwise share the experience, I probably would,” travel writer Terry Ward and mom to two babies under 2 tells me. “But I’d also probably ask my husband, dad or sister first. It’s like a script. I get this question all the time.” We get it; you’re (kinda)(maybe)(probably) joking about wanting to tag along, but it’s a question we collectively get so often, the humor has worn off. It’s definitely in good fun, but I also sometimes wonder if those who ask such things genuinely think that a writer a) can dictate the terms of an assignment and b) is presented with a bottomless expense fund covered by the publication. Rather the opposite; you’d be surprised how many bills that we have to cover on our own! And even if we’re paying for a meal to do a restaurant review that we’re not being reimbursed for and it is technically considered a write-off, we can still only write off half. As for traveling with a plus-one, I’m grateful to have created a business with my partner that enables us to travel together more often than not, but this has been a shift that just took place in the past 18 months as we ventured into bigger destination marketing projects and I stopped taking on so many low-paying print gigs.

Instead, ask this: “Do you always travel solo? Wow, that must be a hard life. Do your partner or children ever get to go with you? It must be so hard to be away from them so much!”

“Your husband lets you travel alone?”

I’ve gotten this one plenty of times in the past, and Florida-based travel writer Susan B. Barnes says little irks her more. “First off, anyone who has met me for one slight moment knows that no one—NO ONE —’lets’ me do anything. I don’t ask permission to do my job, nor would my husband ever expect me to. He knows me.” Ditto. I don’t think you go into an independent career like travel writing and marry someone who doesn’t support your dream.

Instead, say this: “It must be hard to sustain relationships when you’re on the road so much—it’s almost like you’re in a long-distance relationship part of the time. What’s the key to balancing your job with your marriage?” Basically anything other than implying a husband has ownership over his wife works in this case.

“Who looks after your children when you’re away?”

“Um, their perfectly capable father,” retorts Canadian writer Lola Augustine Brown. “This pisses me off so much. I’m often tempted to say, ‘oh I just leave the TV on and give them a big bag of Cheetos.’” I’ve noticed several of my friends who travel a lot for work get the mom guilt. Being childless, it’s obviously not a question I get, but it is interesting how even in the 21st century when most moms and dads I know work full time, the mother is still expected to be the primary caretaker. And no doubt, it would be very tough to be a single parent and a travel writer (or like us, a dog mom without family nearby to care for Ella when we’re on the road). But for those married (or with a partner) and children, it seems obvious that the non-traveling parent would be the one to stay home with the little ones.

Instead, say this: “You’re a mom, right? Your kids must have so many cool adventures under their belts! How often do they get to go with you? And how admirable that you sometimes are able to travel far and wide with your whole family.” Or ask specific tips a traveling mom (or dad) might be able to share on how you could travel more with your own children.

“So, can you write a story about me/my business?”

Nope, sorry. It doesn’t work that way. Those of us still in the print game report to editors who report to other editors, and so on and so forth. Print space is a commodity, and much of the game now (at least in magazines) is pay-to-play. So, no, no, no, I can’t help you by landing a story in a national magazine about your business, though I wish I could! Getting press for small businesses is like the equivalent of a runner’s high for writers, but sadly, the media just doesn’t make it that easy anymore (which is why many of us started blogs a long time ago: so we could control the conversation about topics that matter to us most).

Instead, say this: “Do you have any advice on how my [name the kind of business] company can get more exposure? What are some marketing tips you could share for getting the word out?” Granted, I might tell you to hire someone with experience on this side of your business, but I a) would possibly have a referral for you and b) might also have some social media tips you could incorporate on your own.

“I want to be a travel writer, will you help me?”

This is a loaded question. First things first: I LOVE helping people (see: previous question). I’m a natural connector, and if “connecting others” were a love language, it would no doubt be mine. I host not-for-profit networking meet-ups every month in Nashville, as I’ve been doing for more than four years. I mentor many young writers, speak at high schools and colleges whenever I’m asked, and occasionally run writing workshops. And when someone writes me and says, “I’ve been to journalism school, I’m interning at X publication, and I really want to get into travel writing,” then follows that with specific questions, I almost always respond.

But (and here it comes), the people asking for help becoming a travel writer are usually ones who have not put in any work, have zero experience writing or working in any form of media, and are often in other established careers and travel writing just sounds like “a fun thing to do” to kill the time. The quickest way to insult a travel writer is by saying, “I love traveling, and I’m not bad at writing—how hard can it be? Maybe I could be a travel writer, too.” This is what gets under the skin of other travel writers, those like me who held three (unpaid) internships at a time and worked retail to make ends meet. Those who took puny assignments for years (or decades) before landing a coveted byline in a Conde Nast Traveler or Travel + Leisure. Those who are still scraping to get by in times when publications are assigning more web content than ever and paying less than they ever have. What makes one writer more successful than the next may not necessarily be the writing skills, but rather work ethic and business sense.

You want to be a travel writer? Great. Put in the work. Get an editor coffee. Intern your little butt off. Start pitching smaller publications, then when you’ve had success there, move up to regional pubs and, later on, your dream titles. Then, when you’ve had skin in the game or at least proven you’re serious, only then do you write your idol (or the closest travel writer you know). But be polite, keep it short, have specific questions ready and by all means, DO NOT start by asking: “can I pick your brain?”

Instead, say this: “I’ve always been interested in pursuing travel writing and actually have a background in [insert related field]. Do you offer consulting services or could you point me toward a class I might take or any other resources you find useful?” This is the way to get an answer from a busy writer juggling deadlines, editors and the daily hustle.

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I feel like I have to reiterate this once more, because the Internet is full of trolls and someone out there will no doubt take offense to the previous 3,000 words: I do really love what I do; all of us who weighed in on this topic do. And as I was riffing with the other travel writers I interviewed, we all agreed upon one thing: We have enviable jobs and are sure others in equally enviable positions get comparable questions, too. So if you do ask one of the above, we’ll likely let it slide, answer the questions as succinctly as possible, then move onto more important things (like asking you about yourself! after all, we are journalists … we care a lot more about interrogating our subject than we do droning on about our own boring lives).

Fellow travel writers, what have I left off? And those of you in other careers, what questions do you despise hearing about your own job? Educate the rest of us so we don’t make comparable faux pas!

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13 Questions NOT to Ask a Travel Writer published first on https://medium.com/@OCEANDREAMCHARTERS

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