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beauty-and-passion · 3 years

Note

Silly fun challenge prompt: what languages do you associate with the Sides/what would be the 2nd language each Side learn?

For example I am a big fan of Hispanic (Spanish speaking) Creativitwins fanon. And c! Thomas too could've learnt Spanish in high school and the fact his love interest is hispanic too just makes perfect sense-

And in contrast to Hispanic twins I headcanon Janus as a francophone (French speaking) for two reasons: 1) it was still lingua franca around Victorian era, his aesthetic inspiration and 2) dividing American high school by Spanish class vs. French class is like causing Civil War (I was and still am a language nerd, so I learnt both languages, which was a mistake but the kind of mistake that was worth it when you think about it later)

German suites Logan since lots of famous philosophers are German. I associate Japanese or Korean with Virgil since those two are really dominant in the current subculture world (and maybe our emo could've been inspired and turn into E-boy - wow that sounds terrifying)

I don't have strong preference on Patton's but Italian sounds nice, since all those music and dessert and anything sweet are often from Italy. And maybe 'Orange' can be some language that sounds harsh like Russian, so he can murmur in that in sleep and scares everyone else

I know you're in Europe: 1) you use GMT and 2) Americans wouldn't care about Eurovision. So I wonder how you would think based on your European experience!

Oooh, I like this! As European Who Studied Languages, I definitely approve this and I'll gladly add my two cents about which languages the sides should learn.

_________

Roman: He canonically knows Spanish and that's perfect like that. Spanish is a romantic language, someone speaks Spanish and you can't help but swoon. It’s a great choice for the Side responsible for romance and passion.

_________

Remus: Remus isn't just intrusive thoughts, but there’s a very high chance he’s also responsible for Thomas' sexual urges. So, what is the language made for sex? You’re right, it’s French. French is sexy. You can say anything in French and bam, ✨sexy ✨.

"Je sors la poubelle." Sexy, isn't it? Well, I just said "I'm taking out the trash". See? Very sexy.

(French people, please confirm my words. We all know it’s true)

_________

Janus: Your points are incredibly valid and I love them. But if we should choose among all languages, I would love Janus to be one of the very few (extremely few) people in the world who can speak Latin.

I know Latin is a dead language, but it would be great - and not just because of the connection with his name.

Let’s consider that the other Romance languages, despite evolving from Latin, cannot entirely understand it, because they all changed a lot through the centuries after mixing with the Germanic ones. On the other hand, the Germanic languages (English, German, Swedish and so on) are part of a completely different group, only slightly influenced by Latin, so they cannot understand it.

In other words, Janus would speak a language that only sounds familiar - and maybe you can grasp a couple words here and there if you know a romance language, but the true meaning is hidden. What is he actually saying? Who knows. Is he actually cursing someone? Who knows. After all, do you understand Latin? Yeah, me neither.

If I have to pick a language that is still spoken today instead, I think I'll join you with French. Your points are valid and French is a very elegant language, fitting for Janus’ whole aesthetic. So yes, French could work.

_________

Logan: German is a great choice and you are absolutely right with your point about the philosophers. Also German is a language of harsh sounds and strict grammar rules - for example:

declensions that should be used accordingly for articles, adjectives and nouns

specific verbs for specific meanings

words made by putting together shorter words (like Haustürschlüssel. Haustür means “front door”, Schlüssel means “key” -> this word means “front door’s key”)

sentences that should follow a specific construction, with parts of the compound verb after the noun and part at the end of the sentence. And secondary phrases also have a specific syntax and should always be introduced by a comma

In other words, it's a very organized language and I think it would fit Logan.

But also, considering that almost all words related to science and philosophy come from Greek, I think Logan should at least understand some Greek. As a treat.

(Also because Greek is another incredibly complicated language, so if someone has the patience to learn it, it’s definitely Logan.)

_________

Virgil: oh my gosh, I never thought about an eastern language for Virgil. In a way, it would be a very peculiar choice and I kinda like it. Japanese and Korean are extremely complicated languages, they have a very specific alphabet (I'm especially thinking about the Japanese one, that even asks for a specific direction to write words) and require a lot of work (and memory) to learn them.

But Virgil is also a poet and when I think of poets and sonnets my first connection is with the french ennui, le mal du vivre and especially Baudelaire and his works. Virgil would appreciate Baudelaire a lot. So French, again.

But hey, there’s too much French now. So I’ll pick the other european literature full of sadness: the russian one.

Russian is supposed to be a big scary language and its alphabet is weird and omg what if they're cursing us? But if you learn it a little bit, you’ll find out that Russian has a lot of soft/open sounds (due to a good use of vowels) and it's very poetic.

So the language itself is a bit like Virgil: he seems scary and evil at a first glance, but if you learn about him, he's actually kinder than he looks.

But never underestimate Russian, because just like Anxiety, fear is just behind the corner: you start learning it and wow, there is just one present tense, one past tense and one future tense? This is great, what a wonderful language!

And then, before you’ll realize it, you will find out that each verb has a “doppelganger” used for entirely different purposes AND there a gazillion verbs of motion and you will end up crying on the floor, because there are just too many verbs - and look, there are also one trillion particles you can put before these verbs and they give them EVEN MORE MEANINGS.

No, this isn't entirely based on my personal experience, what makes you think that.

_________

Patton: I have never thought about Patton learning another language, because English just fits him too well.

But when you proposed Italian... well, my heart just wiped out everything else. There is nothing here, only Patton speaking Italian.

So yes, Patton's second language should be Italian. No, it must be Italian. Because French is the language of sex, Spanish is the language of love, but if you want to declare your eternal love to someone, you use Italian. Do you want to marry someone? Italian. Do you want to tell your significant other how much you adore them? Italian. Italian has one million ways to express love and Patton should use them all with his kiddos.

And yes, Italian is also associated with warm people, warm places and good food, all things Patton deserves and should enjoy. So Italian is a big yes.

_________

Orange: since Orange is a mystery, I am a bit torn between these two languages:

1) Esperanto: This language is amazing, because it isn’t a natural language, born like all others, but it has been built by a man, who wanted to create an universal language in order to foster world peace and international understanding.

So this language has been created to be as simple as possible, with a very regular grammar (unlike all other natural languages) and its words all have references to other language groups (romance, germanic, slavic, indo-europeans, finno-ugric languages and so on).

And if you actually listen to it (especially if you know some latin languages) you will find it weirdly understandable. I found this video in particular and I was impressed by how strangely familiar esperanto sounds.

And... that’s it, I just think it would be kinda poetic that the last side knows a language that all others can use and understand.

2) A Greenlandic language. Why? Because they are insanely polysynthetic.

What does that mean? If in German you can make words by putting together other two/three words (like in the example I used before), in the Greenlandic languages you can build an entire sentence by putting together nouns, verbs, articles and everything else. All together in one single word, whose meaning can be translated with an entire sentence in another language.

Do you want an example? Here is an example from Wikipedia: tuntussuqatarniksaitengqiggtuq.

Yes, this is a word.

This word is from the Yupik language and means "He had not yet said again that he was going to hunt reindeer.". And this word is made of:

tuntu- (= reindeer)

ssur- (= hunt)

qatar- (future tense)

ni- (= say)

ksaite- (negative)

ngqiggte- (= again)

uq (3rd.sing.IND)

Is this insane? This is fucking insane. Do you want to be scared? This is real fear. What the heck. How. Why.

You know what? This is perfect for Orange, I’ll leave Esperanto to Thomas. Orange deserves to be this scary. I can already see the other sides quiver before him.

_________

And so, here are my guesses! If someone has other ideas, feel free to add yours and tell us why, so we can all have a nice discussion :D

#sanders sides #ask #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #orange side #thomas sanders #this is a great ask #also I may have been a little too involved #but I studied these languages #and there's even my own <3 #side note: Americans don't know what they're missing #eurovision is the best #it's our trashy glittery camp show #with arson and gays included #sides and foreign languages

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years

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I love the post about Ushijima with a fem! childhood sweetheart. I would like to request the same thing with Kageyama & Osamu.

I’m so glad you enjoyed it anonnie~! ^^ I can definitely do that for you~! I hope you enjoy these headcanons as much as I enjoyed writing them~! Thank you again for requesting with us, we really appreciate it~!

» » Admin Ko

ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ | ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ ᴛᴏʙɪᴏ ; ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ ᴛᴏʙɪᴏ

Will literally drag her to any and all volleyball related activities. Which results in her having a strong sense of knowledge in the subject despite not pursuing it like he does.

Literally is his only friend and he really decides that besides his love of volleyball, he only needs her in his life. Though he doesn’t really understand the full weight of those words at a young age.

Practically attached at the hip, it’s without a doubt that where ever she went, he was bound to at least be somewhere nearby or walking alongside her.

She’s always tutoring him, and has many different ways that she can work him into completing his assignments whilst allowing him to play volleyball.

It’s a ritual that he walks her home every single day after practice. Which really means she’s roped into at least being one of the managers for the VBC when they first enter high school.

Positively won’t allow Tsukishima near her. He’ll always glower at the tall blocker and hover at least around her in a sort of weirdly protective way.

It reminds a lot of people of Nishinoya and Tanaka whenever someone tries to get close to Shimizu.

It’s almost a given that everyone thinks they’re dating, but is absolutely stunned into silence when she says they’re childhood friends.

“Kageyama says that you’re all he needs though.”

Cue the flushed cheeks, in which Daichi, asks Kageyama up front if they’re dating or not.

Poor baby is confused at first and Sugawara explains that it’s romantically seeing someone that you might want to spend your entire life with. His response almost made her faint on the spot.

“I don’t see myself with anyone else but her.”

Thus no matter how hard she tries to deny it no one believes her. She only ends up stopping after she notices the things that a boyfriend would do. Such as leaving her a carton of milk on her desk, constantly checking up on her and walking to and from school with her.

If memory served her correctly, she had remembered seeing other girls attempt to befriend or get close, but he always rejected them saying he didn’t want anyone else but her, thus it finally sunk into her mind.

So when she ends up giving him a surprise kiss to the cheek he turns tomato red and becomes a stiff awkward baby who doesn’t know how to handle himself.

He will literally kiss her in front of Aoba Josai if he sees Oikawa trying to flirt with her.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ

Dear god, help this boy. He literally relies on her whenever Atsumu is being a whole ass (which is all the time.)

Literally will avoid his brother at all costs to be with her. He’s said countless of times that he’d rather live with her than his brother, and by the time they get to high school she doesn’t know how serious he is anymore about it-- especially because he continues to use that phrase well into their teens.

He always makes or learns how to make her favorite foods just so he can show off that he’s better than his brother, or he’ll do some practice spikes with her whenever he needs to vent out his frustrations after a practice.

It’s without a doubt that she’s always seen with the ‘quieter’ Miya twin, and honestly she’s been able to really differentiate between the pair despite their looks.

Though it greatly helped by the time they entered high school with a desire to at least look a little different. Always asking her to accompany him everywhere-- especially if it involves Atsumu, but whenever his twin isn’t involved he’s usually seen with her.

It’s come to pass that if Osamu isn’t seen with Atsumu, the 2nd most likely option would be that he’s with her. Their childhood best friend, though Osamu considers her more as his best friend than a shared best friend.

He confesses to her during their first year of high school, and purposefully will rub it into his brother’s face that he’s dating someone absolutely stunning and amazing.

The one to always walk her to and from school, and will adamantly stay with her to study or to hang out while purposefully kicking Atsumu out or locking him out despite his yells of protest.

Always asks her to accompany him to his games, but won’t necessarily force her to go. Though if she does go, he noticeably will be much more sociable with the crowd (specifically where she is).

Once they’re in their third year of high school he tells her that he’d really like to actually live with her. To finally make a name for himself that’s not tuned to volleyball, but what he’s truly passionate about.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu

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teal-quetzal · 3 years

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Masked Prince

Hi all! =D

This is the second piece i write, and this one is for @nakunakunomi ‘s 750 followers event, Cliché with Hazel!

The cliché prompt i was given: We met and danced at a masked ball but i don’t know who you are.

Random word to include: thumb.

Warnings: there’s some swearing and foul language. Basically the Vinsmokes, mainly Yonji, being abusive little shits.

I love Sanji, he’s the sweetest, so i hope i made him justice! I really hope anyone who reads this likes it and enjoys it!

You finished your shift at the cafe you worked at and went straight to your best friend’s place, he had sent you a message asking to meet him ASAP. When you entered your best friend's bedroom, you found him surrounded by a huge variety of dresses.

“You’re late! We have so much to do!” he said getting up and running towards you. Cavendish was the heir of a big company and wasn’t used to the fact that other people had to work for a living and had tight schedules.

“What’s all this? Are you dressing up?” you said pointing at the gowns, “You’d look so elegant in the purple one!” you continued, pointing at it but not touching it. You were scared of ruining them because they all looked incredibly expensive.

“They’re for you, silly” he said smiling, “C’mon, start trying them on, we don’t have all day! The ball is tonight!”

“...what ball?” you asked afraid that this might be another one of his rich boy adventures.

Cavendish handed you a very fancy invitation card for a masquerade ball and explained the ball to you. It was for heirs and heiresses of big companies only, ment for them to mix and mingle without the lower classes around. And even seal some deals and arrange marriages.

“The good thing is, everyone has to be disguised, so no one will know it’s you!” Canvendish said excitedly, but seeing your frown, he added “You need to get out once in a while and have fun, no one will know you’re a waitress, not with this beautiful sapphire gown and the invitation card” he finished with a smile, and also handed you an elaborate silver mask.

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"A masquerade ball? Why aren't any of you going? You know i’m busy..." Sanji asked his brothers, who didn't even bother to look at him.

"Cos you're the only one who can make a good impression in this stupid things" said Yonji, the only one who at least looked at him, “And the only busy you should get is with some lady, so you could strike a deal and be useful to the family for once” he added mockingly.

"You have no say in this, you're going, so put on your suit" added Ichiji.

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You found yourself stepping out of Farul, Cavendish's favourite car, and following a candlelight path surrounded by marble statues. The venue for the ball was one of the most luxurious mansions in your city, and it couldn't have been more fitting for the event. There was a romantic aura surrounding it, and you started to think that maybe Cavendish was right, this could be fun.

When you offered your invitation to one of the doormen you couldn’t help but overhear the other guests' conversations. Economics, finances, you knew nothing about those subjects so you couldn’t help but start to feel out of place. What if someone noticed you weren't anyone important?

You started to avoid conversations and group gatherings all together, and pretended to be injured when someone asked you to dance, because you didn’t know how to ballroom dance either. Luckily for you, the food was amazing, so you tried almost everything and, being a waitress yourself, you started to fraternize with the staff. You even helped a waitress to clean her clothes when a pretentious rich kid threw wine on her.

You decided to catch some fresh air and went to the balcony. It was a beautiful balcony, surrounded by rose bushes, with marble columns and a bench...a bench occupied by one of the guests.

Deeming it inappropriate to go back inside, you politely asked him if you could sit besides him. He nodded and offered you a cigarette, which you declined. He wore a black suit, nothing too flashy like other guests, but very elegant, and a black mask with a few golden details that suited his blond hair.

"You've been quite the talk of the ball already" he said after a long silence and turned to look at you with a tired smile. "What is a beauty like you doing in a place like this?" he asked, a phrase that he had learned from a romance novel he had hidden under his bed. But he didn't expect the effect it had on you.

Suddenly you felt cold, anxious, he found out that you weren’t any heiress and was gonna drag you in front of the others, clearly.

"I--I'm not doing anything and how can you say I'm a beauty when you haven't even seen my face?!?!" you said getting up, but he grabbed your hand, gently, and didn't let you leave.

"I’m sorry, I didn't want to upset you, I just wanted to talk for a while…, and you're right I haven't seen your face but I don't need to see it when your soul is crealy the most beautiful here" he said, getting up, "I've seen you help that waitress, and if you'd like, I'd love to be your partner for a dance" he almost pleaded.

"I--I don't...know...how to dance?" You stuttered, afraid of the effect that such revelation would make. Everyone here was taught the expected protocol, and of course all of them knew how to dance.

He stood, left your hand, and turned to the rose bushes to pick up a rose. When he turned he offered you the warmest smile, took off the thorns and put the rose on your hair.

"Makes sense you're pretending to be injured then," he said while offering you his hands to dance, "just follow my lead, my princess".

With his warm hands in yours, you saw that he cut his thumb, probably with the rose's thorns, you thought, and you retrieved and started searching in a hidden pocket you had.

"Wha-what's wrong?" he asked, clearly confused and...sad? Did he really care and wasn't just playing?

"You cut your thumb! Here, let me!" you said warmly, and put a colorful band aid on it. "Maybe it's a bit too childish for you? It's the only one I have..."

"I love it!" he said, cutting you and seemingly flustered, with blush appearing on his ears, "you're... you’re too kind". And he proceeded to put a hand on your lower back and grab yours with the other.

You started to dance and clumsily follow him. Under the stars and surrounded by roses, to the muted music that came from the inside, you forgot about classes and money. You started talking about everything and started to call him "Mr Prince" in response to him calling you "My Princess", which you both found amusing.

But after a while the music stopped, and you knew it meant the masquerade ball was over, and you had to part ways, probably forever.

He asked for you to meet him again, but your fear of rejection once he found out your real income and class was too big, and you left without saying goodbye, disappearing in the crowd.

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Feelings of regret flooded you since you disappeared from the ball last night, never before you had such a connection with someone, but what could you do now? You knew nothing about him, not even his name, because your insecurities and fears took the best of you.

Your shift was almost finished in the cafe you worked at when a guy with green hair came in, followed by a blond guy and a woman with pink hair.

While you were taking the pink hair's orders and scribbling her name in the cup, you couldn't help but overhear the green hair picking on the blond.

"Why are you wearing this stupid band-aid, anyways? It's childish and pathetic as fuck" he said, "At least tell me you scored last night at the ball, you have to keep our reputation, you know?"

"Reputation of disgusting pervs” said the pink haired woman, turning towards her brothers, “Sanji is better than this". Sanji rolled his eyes and came closer to the counter and finished their order.

"Excuse my brother and his manners" he said to you with an apologetic smile, "how much is it?" he said while taking out his wallet. And then you saw it, the band-aid on his thumb. Just like the ones you usually carried around.

Your blood froze and you started to feel dizzy, you started to ponder if it could really be last night’s prince. The comments his brother made and the band-aid he wore in the exact thumb were pointing towards it.

With your heart beating faster than ever, you couldn't help but wonder but in an impulse of bravery you wrote "Mr Prince" in his cup instead of his name, hoping that if it was him, he'd recognize you.

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Outside the cafe, Sanji couldn't stop thinking of that waitress' weirdly familiar voice, when Yonji gave him his cup.

"Ha! Mr Prince...you didn't score with a nice heiress but you scored with the waitress...you really are a pathetic good-for-nothing!" said Yonji reading Sanji's cup.

Sanji, in shock, looked at his cup. Everything made sense now, of course your voice sounded so familiar! He thought you were of lower income but an heiress anyways, but no, you were a waitress that sneaked their way into the ball! That’s why you were so weirdly secretive last night!

He rushed inside, leaving his siblings confused, excited by the sudden realization.

You were ready to leave the cafe for the day, feeling like the biggest idiot. “Maybe it wasn’t him?” you wondered, “or maybe he didn’t care about you if you were a waitress, afterall you two were from different worlds…” you kept thinking, feeling like a fool for having the slightest hope.

But when you were already heading for the door, he came in.

"Princess!" He called when he saw you, leaving you confused and flustered at hearing him calling you that endearing nickname again.

Sanji came closer to you and grabbed your hands and kissed them, leaving you like a blushing mess, unable to say a word.

"I feel like the dumbest man in the world...could you ever forgive me for not recognizing you right away?"

"How...How could you? We were disguised and i'm...i'm a..." you answered pointing at the counter, but he caressed your cheek, leaving you speechless again.

"You're the beautiful woman that came into my life last night" he said tenderly, "Would you do me the honor of joining me for lunch? I'd love to get to know you properly" he finished with the sweetest smile.

And how could you say no?

#cliche with hazel #sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #tw: swearing

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

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Hey, you're one of my favourite fanfic writers and I recently started to get into writing. I've never actually wrote anything that wasn't for school and was wondering if you had any advice for absolute newbies to writing (all your fanfictions are amazing and the way you write dialogue is so witty and smooth, I die everytime I read your work)

Oh Yikes I’m terrible at giving writing advice, but here goes:

If you’re writing a specific trope, do some reading about it first to learn the lingo of the verse. For example: if you wanted to write a Coffee Shop AU, go on AO3 and read some of the Coffee Shop AU’s in your favorite fandom. Get a feel for the general tone-- are they light and fluffy? Full of awkward flirting? Is it usually the barista flirting or the customer? Whether you’re writing fan fiction or an Original Story, reading fics about the trope always helps and gives you examples to measure your own work on.

Read your dialogue out loud. As I’m editing a fic, I actually talk through the speaking parts. It helps keep sentences shorter as well as help with the flow of words. Sometimes speaking parts get super wordy or weirdly phrased especially if we are trying to capture a specific way of speaking (like an accent??), so I talk through it all to make sure it makes sense. Sometimes I keep a Marvel movie on in the background just so I physically hear that characters voice while I’m writing. Other times (like with Bucky, specifically) I decide how I want him to sound and that’s just how he sounds in all my fics. And that’s okay too.

Keep the action moving. There’s all these things about “never say SAID!” when writing conversations and while ‘said’ is literally fine, try swapping it out for action lines. Example “I can’t stand you.” he said angrily . vs. “I can’t stand you.” He tossed the magazine away and folded his arms. This way even a dialogue heavy fic ends up having enough action/movement to paint a picture, PLUS an action requires a reaction from the other person in the scene which leads to more dialogue... it just helps a story move. Stuck on a scene? Make one of the characters do something. Make coffee, change the subject to say they are hungry and then order food, anything like that.

Don’t be afraid to be cliche. There is a reason certain things are cliche. People will always want to read about hilariously awkward meet cutes or first kisses in the rain or fake dating. Get comfortable writing those and then branching out into your own style will be easier.

Find a prompt blog and follow it. Prompt blogs are great because they take the pressure off coming up with an idea and usually even provide some parameters for how the story is supposed to go. There’s a prompt blog for pretty much every pairing out there, and then some generic writing prompt blogs as well.

Don’t be afraid to let your writing go off the rails. There are a few posts on my blog about my literally terribly outlines and how most stories happen because a funny line went through my head and I use the phrase “jumped the tracks and headed for the hills” alot. Sometimes your writing will take a different direction than you originally intended and hey, so long as the words are flowing and you are having a good time, let it do what it wants.

Have someone you can throw ideas around with. I don’t use a Beta reader, but I DO have a couple readers that I can message/text like “hey this is terrible right? read this and tell me if it’s terrible” and they can give me feedback about whether or not a sex scene made them cringe hard enough to sue for whiplash, or if an emotional scene feels stilted etc etc. It definitely helps.

And finally--

If you hate what you’re writing, stop writing it. I can’t stress this enough. I can’t tell you how many half started drafts I have in my folder. Its not the end of the world to leave a story and move on to something else and its certainly not a failure on your part. You aren’t abandoning a story or giving up, you’re just finding something that works better for you. Writing should be fun. The whole “write for yourself” thing is true-- I literally only write things I want to write and that’s why I love all my fics. WRITING IS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN.

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lazybirdxd · 5 years

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Kaylor: The hidden true timeline

Sometimes reality exceeds our expectations, and oftentimes we are not aware that such reality exists. Until we take a deeper look.

I recently finished reading a (controversial) fanfic by a certain writer (If you’re an old Kaylor you know which fanfic, if you’re new, it’s called “Kaylor: The timeline”) and what stood out for me the most about that fanfic is that it is incredibly accurate in the way it tells the story, a story that is well thought of, it has a chronological coherence and character construction that is very difficult to surpass. The amazing thing about it is not the story in itself, but rather the level of insight it gives about the characters, behavior analysis, recognition of complex emotions and its roots in the characters, as well as a constant foreshadowing of the aesthetics of the coming era (reputation era). I think that because of this complexity and the level of details included, both Karlie and Taylor wrote it. How did I arrive to that conclusion (that many of you older Kaylors also suspect to be true)? -I'll be focusing only on the authorship of the fanfic, if you want me to analyze the story, leave a comment!-

Taylor discussing Karlie’s inability to communicate any uncomfortable situation to Taylor in the 12th chapter of part two.

Well, let’s see. The fanfic has an element of entertainment to it (no, that’s not my strongest argument, but hold on), it’s as if the writer knew which parts of the story to highlight in order for the readers to be engaged with the story from the beginning. But it doesn’t JUST take a good story for a book to be read (or in this case, a Wattpad book), you need to have the right characters in your story for people to feel identified with and represented by them. In essence, the story needs to make sense, needs to remain just a story (that means having the right amount of fantasy and the right amount of truth so that it still feels real), it needs to have complex yet relatable characters that appeal to the essential parts of human nature, and a relatively simple vocabulary (unless your expected audience is very educated) along with descriptive (visual) language, because the public has to imagine the situations the characters are going through, as well as their very environment. Also, your use of your chosen lexicon has to convey all the meaning of your story in its simplicity. I don’t know about you, but these requirements feel like the abilities of a very advanced writer, and not one that just posts random stories that they created in their head after reading a tabloid in the line of the supermarket.

The writer of the fanfic saying he/she had never written anything personal before the fanfic (I cut the screenshot on this one, but I will put the full picture later on)

Anyway, as seen above, our “fanfic” writer claims to have never had any experience at personal writing before this fanfic, which is very suspicious, given the amount of reads that this fanfic has (1.7 Million at the moment of writing this post) as well as the good reviews and people commenting on Wattpad how that is their 4th or 5th time reading the entire fanfic all over again, meaning that for the reads to be this high, the writing has to be at least really good.

I cut the screenshot here, but if you go to the first chapter of the fanfic you’ll see more people commenting similar things.

Now, with regards to the foreshadowing I talked about earlier, the fanfic was written in early 2016, and the reputation era began in late 2017, plus we know Taylor plans her tours and eras one year ahead, therefore she needed to plan the reputation era and tour one year ahead (see section Event promoters), despite her saying in a GMA interview from Lover era that she only plans 6 months in advance (which is just impossible due to recording dates, negotiations, hiring booking agents for the countries she will perform in, meetings to discuss marketing strategies, aesthetics of every era, etc…), therefore by 2016 she had at least some idea of how the 6th era was going to look like. This fanfic weirdly coincides with the aesthetics of reputation long before reputation was released. Hmmm…

This fanfic AU was last updated on February 2016.

“Interesting… Tell me more about this writer”.

Alright. Also, It’s a she and she has a Tumblr account that I took time to carefully read.

Our writer turns out to be a she.

But before I go into really heavy stalking further detail, read this disclaimer: I am no behavioral analysis expert, I do not possess any type of psychology major or minor, I’m not even doing an undergraduate course of psychology, this is me applying all the books I’ve read about human psychology as it is my hobby. I’m a Computer Science student. Having said that, let’s dive right in!

Now, this is what I observed when looking through KaylorFanfiction’s profile:

1. The writer doesn’t share, reblog, post pictures frequently or makes her personal opinion known in topics outside the fanfic(s) or writing in general. (I observed this after spending a significant amount of time scrolling down her blog and just noticing her behavioral patterns).

2. Assertive (short answers to asks on Tumblr).

3. Usually writes in caps to highlight important things (just like Taylor), words or phrases might be uppercase.

If you’re wondering about the numbers, they are questions.

Okay, let’s see Taylor now:

4. The writer is 6 feet tall (like our favorite supermodel).

The link to the questions.

5. The writer is enthusiastic about feedback (like Taylor).

6. Has one female dog named Phoebe Buffay (A pet named after a well-known tv show character.)

Interesting to note that in the second ask, the writer tells that she has only had one puppy, which reminds me of a certain someone who also has only one puppy:

7. Is in college. Or was.

I say was because, although we have pictures of Karlie on her first day of school at NYU, it isn’t completely believable due to a lack of attendance later on if you google “Karlie Kloss attending NYU”, therefore my conclusion is that her proximity to a college environment comes actually from her brother, who truly attended Notre Dame University. An interesting observation that may back my induction is that if you go to KaylorFanfiction’s profile you’ll find that when she talks about college she never specifies which one she’s attending, for that same reason, if it was true that Karlie attended, then she would have no other choice than to be proud of her wife girlfriend through her secret alternative account for her achievements (I mean, it’s NYU, who wouldn’t be proud?). Taylor The writer might have wanted to tell the narrative of a broke college student (the exact opposite of what Taylor is) to go unnoticed on social media, but the quality of the story and the richness of it made it unbelievable that the story came from an inexperienced writer (more on that later on).

In other words, this account was Taylor’s escape bubble where she could talk freely and give her opinions without dealing with the consequences. I was afraid I could be breaking that bubble with this post, but considering that she said she no longer uses the account, I figure that It was safe for me to post this.

8. Has been making connections with literary agents and small publishing presses (as detailed above).

Guess who also makes connections with certain agents and publishing agencies… (See the manager and booking agents)

9. Has a passion for music and wanted to learn how to play guitar on her own as a teenager but stopped.

The full screenshot above, as promised.

Also, doesn’t she being obsessed with music and learning from a young age reminds you of someone else?

Link to the interview.

Link to a compilation of homemade videos of Taylor singing as well as an interview where she says she learned to play the guitar at a young age (minute 1:29).

10. Reads books about music (detailed above) and learns about music in general, from a very young age.

11. Writes original content outside fanfic.

Interesting, given that she never had written something personal before (personal as in of her own making, not as in the fanfic is her life), that makes me question what did she write about before this fanfic? Journalism? But she is obsessed with music, she told us that herself. Could that original content possibly be… songs?

So far we know she is obsessed with music, she discovered she liked to write novels (I’d rather say books) through writing this fanfic, even though she doesn’t read fanfic at all, wonder where she got the inspiration and experience to make it the most read fanfic of that topic on Wattpad if she also never did anything personal, which makes me now believe that by personal she meant her life, because there is no way you can never have done anything of your own creation while having original work. Therefore, the original work she refers to, are songs (as detailed above when saying she wanted to do something with songs). She could have meant anything by saying she wanted to do something with songs, but so far, these are many many coincidences pointing to Taylor the authorship of a particular individual, and as BBC’s Sherlock said: “The universe is rarely so lazy”.

12. The author never reads fanfic stories.

The picture speaks for itself

13. The writer doesn’t like speculation. Compare to Taylor’s 25th birthday tweet.

Interesting…the author is not into speculating, yet she wrote an entire fanfic on a relationship she claims is not real to her. Basically, she ignored the definition of “speculation”.

Thus, if we wanted to make sense of the reasons for her particular fanfic creation writing taking into account that she doesn’t like speculating and that this is just a creative outlet, we would have to assume that what she writes in her story is based on an objective truth, her speech again (not liking speculation) is contradicted by the mere fact that Wattpad is for aspiring writers looking to share their work with the world (usually a fictitious work). So, if our writer doesn’t like speculation, yet creates a “fictional” story on a site dedicated to that purpose, she’s either lying about not liking speculation or she’s hiding the truth in a platform dominated by fiction in the hopes no one will see (through) it. Okay, maybe she’s lying about not liking speculation (after all, people lie all the time), but given the continuous similarities of our writer’s personality with Taylor’s, and the fact that in the universe everything is interconnected, this can’t be a coincidence. But why would Taylor go to such lengths to tell mostly the truth? Well, given Taylor’s character and the way she rose to fame (through what she called “Opening up her diaries for the world to see”) there is an inherent need in her for self-expression, but she can’t express herself freely all the time (remember the behind-the-scenes interview where she’s filming Lover video and she says her life is like a fishbowl) because her career is image-based, and one picture will outspeak any word or explanation she might have. Thus, she might have to go to these or more lengths to truly express herself and her beliefs in order to keep her mental health and creativity flowing.

14. The writer loves to add drama to her writing.

Do I have to remind you of Taylor’s lyrics to Endgame?

“I swear I don’t love the drama, it loves me “

15. The writer has an inclination toward social justice (similar to that of Taylor).

And comparing to Taylor…

Also, the fanfic is very very detail-oriented, and the writer said in a note on one of her chapters:

Finally, to top the icing…

Our writer got knee surgery. The very word surgery sounds to me as a lot of stitches being made. Where have I heard about stitches before? Maybe Out Of The Woods can be a good beginning…

“Twenty stitches in a hospital room”

My dissertation is now over. I hope you enjoyed it without thinking I’m going insane, because that’s what I’m thinking right now. Have a good night/day.

#kaylor:the timeline #deep research #kaylor

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italicwatches · 5 years

Text

The Good Place - Season 2, Episode 02

Right, got some things I need to get done today, so let’s get to it. It’s The Good Place, season 2 episode 02! Here we GO!

-We begin with Michael recording his logs on the experiment, starting attempt number 3. He can do this. He’s going to make it work. And he’ll be famous, like the man who invented bees with teeth! …Fuck me, that might be the most unnerving Bad Place thing we’ve heard about.

-So, back to the zero-point for Eleanor. She gets Chris as her soulmate, and that night at the welcome party, Tahani’s clearly still with Tomás judging by her clog-wench attire. Also she throws some veiled insults at Eleanor that have her saying, and I quote, “go fork yourself, you mean giraffe” when Tahani walks away.

-So day two, they’ve got something for the chaos sequence! MEAN GIRAFFES! The chaos sequence never gets old, I tell ya.

-Day three. “Hey, robot slave lady? Busty Alexa? …Oh, Janet!” Bing! I’m just gonna let Busty Alexa as a phrase sit on your think wrinkles for a minute. Anyways Eleanor wants to learn how to be a good person, are there any people here who can do that?

-And that’s how Janet takes Eleanor to meet Chidi! …Nope he seems too nerdy, got anyone else?

-Cut to day 128, where things are going fairly how Michael wanted, as he’s got an evil obelisk up to fuck with the quartet and show them how the Bad Place knows they’re missing someone they shouldn’t be. Someone has to get inside the obelisk, or they’ll take you all!

-“I can’t go! I’m too young to die! And too old to eat off the kids’ menu! What a stupid age I am!” Jay gets some pretty great lines.

-Also further evidence that Eleanor is really horny. And in this version of the loop, she does not get on great with Tahani. Chidi tries to nobly go and then ELEANOR FIGURES IT OUT, again.

-Chapter 16!

-Attempt number eleven! Michael’s made progress. Eleanor always hates her house. Tahani very consistently hates Eleanor. Jay hates being forced into silence. And Chidi is a constant ball of stress. He’s gotten a very solid first few months of loop, it’s just, you know, the point where Eleanor’s stupid little meat brain starts bumping neurons together and figuring things out that’s the problem.

-So, fresh loop, day three, Eleanor once again looks to Janet for help and gets sent to Chidi…By day 43, Chidi’s teaching the rest of the quartet at Eleanor’s place, when she’s got to kick them all out because her soulmate has some kind of special surprise for her.

-Seems she’s with a chap named Sebastian this loop, who’s…

-Oh boy.

-A terrible singer, amongst other things. He has written a three-hour spoken-word jazz opera for her, and hey there’s Vicky in the back looking very displeased with her situation. Again, I would totally watch a spinoff show that’s just Vicky trying to reclaim her glory and get a leading role in this drama again.

-And also Eleanor realizes this has to be the Bad Place because no version of paradise would include three hours of this. Okay, fine, one more go.

-So Michael’s got to go out to Janet’s reboot button and of course her fail-safe mechanism kicks in as he kicks it on. Attempt 32 fades into attempt 57, 99, 108…Finally, Michael’s realizing the problem is Eleanor herself.

-And that’s when she steps on in instead of waiting to be called because the door was open, and, pardon, sir, did you just say this is the Bad Place? . . .

-Attempt 109. The door is now locked.

-Attempt 127, meet your soulmate, Greg. 146, meet Glenn. …Fuck it, 218, meet Tahani, let’s see how that goes. 291, meet Lerf. Attempt 333, your soulmate is a fucking dog.

-And whether at the welcome party, or the intro meeting, or on a pig farm with Chidi, or a traveling monk line, or the intro meeting again, Eleanor always figures it out. Even in a cactus field with a giant thing of balloons she has to get across safely okay that one was a little on the nose. And god, I wish I had screenshot power because farm gal Eleanor and Chidi with the world’s biggest pig are kind of amazing.

-BEES BEES BEES BEES

-Michael’s really getting tired of rebooting Janet, too. She’s started insisting she’s pregnant with his child. HE CAN’T EVEN MAKE THOSE. Is it physically possible for you to relax that failsafe a little? Nnnope.

-Eventually, the crew are straight up rioting at their setup meetings, and Vicky’s just feeling like this would all be so much smoother if she got a nice fat lead role again…

-By attempt 484, Michael is just in open despair as he drinks while recording. He’s so, fucking, tired of dealing with Eleanor being sooooo smart and lookit me I’m in the bad place bleh bleh bleh bleh. His boss still thinks they’re on version two, and the lies get worse. At this point, Michael has no other choice but to ride it through and he’s started stress eating and he’s getting bigger and he’s a fat monster!

-He’s doing this the whole time with Eleanor in the fucking chair because he just, does, not, care anymore. Fuck it, this one doesn’t count.

-Loop after loop. One with an Italian food theme. One with a French pastry theme. One with foods on sticks. By attempt number 649, Eleanor herself feels like she’s trying less, as she just openly walks away from nerd man Chidi.

-Day 55 of this loop, and they’re trying to make Chidi decide whether Eleanor goes downstairs or not. When Eleanor…

-Is too lost in her fighting so JAY FIGURES IT OUT THIS TIME.

-And Michael just despairs. I don’t blame him.

-Okay! Attempt 802! They’re a week in, Eleanor’s being taught by Chidi and hates it, Tahani and Jay are still doing their early loop. Things are looking like they might actually be stable…Time for a town meeting.

-And the only person there is Vicky. Because the crew is on strike. You’re WHAT?!

-Into his office, where she is pissed because they’ve lost the thread of their goals, she spent weeks working on an Australian accent (is that what you call that) that she never even got to use! HER demand is a more important role, but everyone has at least one demand.

-Lot of folks just want bigger houses. Gayle apparently wants a backstory where she was an MMA fighter. Gunnar wants his biting back. You know some of these would give the game away immediately, right, Vicky?

-Why do you think she’s the one here, Michael? She can help smooth over Gunnar and the other…problems. But a lot of this is doable, and it’ll go a long way to making the crew felt listened to.

-Over to Chidi trying to teach Eleanor, and on day two, and she’s…Not…Doing…Great. They end up taking a breather down at the clam chowder fountain, and find the place…Weirdly empty. What is going on here?

-And then Eleanor catches a whiff of…cigar smoke? She and Chidi go slip around a corner, and yep, there’s two of the crew, griping as they smoke cigars about how far off the rails this project is and what’s the point? They were fulfilled in their old gigs! Also there’s Todd who’s a giant magma monster without his human suit on.

-So Eleanor and Chidi know! And more importantly, they know away from Michael’s attention! Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Focus. Simple answer. They need to keep this under their hats and figure out a plan. …Janet!

-Can they…leave the neighborhood?

-And this is how they end up on the train, and Chidi still thinks it’s the almond milk. By this point in the loop, Eleanor’s figured out about Jay, so he’s definitely another human. And she’s thinking Tahani might be, because, bluntly, Tahani’s kind of an asshole.

-So they end up at, where else…The medium place! And she’s kind of cross because this is the 15th time these idiots have shown up at her door and they have not brought one gram of the cocaine they promised.

-And while that’s going on, Michael is still negotiating with Vicky, trying to show how this could succeed for them. You could be torturing Jared from Subway! She has no faith that he’ll make it succeed, though. So, here’s her proposition. You’re going to reboot the situation one more time. And then she’s sitting in your chair. She’s got a whole specific plan that’s going to work.

-That’s insubordination! You won’t get away with it!

-And this, is a file of every mistake you’ve made over every reboot. Extortion, Michael! The X makes it sound cool.

-I’m getting my Vicky focused spinoff! YAY!

-Back in the Medium Place, here’s the scoop. Eleanor always makes it here with Janet, obviously. Chidi usually gets here, but not always. Sometimes Jay. One time even Tahani. But the end result is always the same. You promise to bring cocaine, and then you get rebooted, and you show up at her door without cocaine.

-So what do they do next? This place isn’t bad, they could just

-stay here forever? Yeah you try that most of the time. And then you end up going back. Sometimes for your friends. Sometimes because you catch her when she’s masturbating. Sometimes because she catches you when she’s masturbating. You always end up back with a plan, and the plan fails, and you end up here.

-So, here’s the good news. She started writing down the plans you guys tried, to cut things short. Here they are, have fun. So, attack Michael, seduce Michael, trick Michael, catch a magic panda and…use its powers…? This was a Jay plan, wasn’t it. Are you sure he got here in one piece and without head trauma?

-Back in town, Michael’s out thinking, when Jay comes by, and Michael’s…Fuck it, he needs to talk to someone. Come on, Jay. So to bring you up to speed, this is the Bad Place, you’re being tortured, now come listen and be his sounding board, sound good?

-Back to Eleanor and Chidi. So they tried throwing Tahani under the bus once, but Eleanor’s real willing to try it again. Under a bigger, more literal bus. Chidi is feeling like this is inevitable and endless loop, and it fucking sucks. They are being punished for the mistakes of life, but the rebooting means they can never learn! (Real talk if Michael presented it like that, that he’s keeping them stuck as bad people so the fun never has to stop, he could probably get approval for the whole operation, reboots and all.)

-And his frustration has her frustrated and furious, which sends her back into the house to talk with Mindy…Who has, for the record, heard this story 15 times in 15 ways and she is tired of it. Your complicated emotions inevitably lead to love and to boning and here. She gets out a tape, and from a spy camera, it’s Eleanor and Chidi in a bedroom in this house, admitting their love for each other. Sure, she got caught in the end, but.

-You two boned in eight days in this house, a total of like 20 times. …And, the…The love? Oh, just that one time. It kind of ruined the mood for her. She puts it at the end of the tape as a cool down for after she finishes.

-Eleanor, though, is in shock about the words. She’s only said ‘love’ to two men in her life. One was Stone Cold Steve Austin, and one was a guy who she thought was Stone Cold Steve Austin.

-But, but, she barely knows Chidi! They only just met! No, Eleanor, don’t you get it? You’ve known him across hundreds of attempts by Michael. You’ve spent…Well it’s been a long time since the real first time you met Chidi. Your mind might not remember it, but your gut does. Why do you think you end up working with him so many times?

-…She’s out of here. And she’s taking this tape! “Oh no, don’t, it’s my only copy.” Mindy’s a real piece of work, guys.

-So it’s back on the train, as Eleanor’s full of complicated thoughts…While back over with Michael, he’s trying to figure out his thoughts as he bounces things off of Jay. And Jay does not get the situation at all, but, okay there’s a lot of funny details but I’m gonna summarize for the sake of time.

-He was in a dance crew, Dance Dance Resolution: We Resolve to Dance. He had a falling out with a guy, who started another crew, and challenged DDR:WRtD to a dance-off. So they went, furious and vicious, and slashed all the tires of the other crew. And as stupid as that story is, Michael figures out a plan…

-And so, in his latest confrontation with them…Eleanor tries to threaten him with how they’re the only ones with power. You’re gonna run out of loops eventually, but they only have to nail it one time, buddy, so unless you want this all to come crashing down, you need to—

-He wants to work with them. He’s got problems with the crew and he needs people on the inside of the situation. What do you say? New best friends?

-Credits!

One of these days I will learn to stop expecting anything specific out of this show and just let it wash over me like the ocean.

#where I watch #recap #live action #the good place #season 2 #spoilers

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coffee-for-himchan · 6 years

Text

Awkward(ly) Cute Family Dinner & Festive Preparations Gone Wrong with B.A.P

(A/N) So.. Let’s rant.

I know I originally made a poll, but, like.. Never again. Now I kinda feel guilty, because there were people who voted for these two that didn’t win as well, and now I felt like I had to write these too. I intended to do both setsof scenarios today, but yesterday evening I got sick with a fever and a sore throat. So, because I’m not feeling all that well, I decided to do a half-and-half instead, with hyung line having one scenario and maknae line the other.

A bit of a rollercoaster ride, but I hope you like it!! ^.^

Awkward(ly) Cute Family Dinner - hyung line

-YONGGUK-

“(Y/N) has told us how you’re the one writing lyrics for your group, and for your solos as well.”

That was a good thing, right? He simply looked over, answering something among the lines of “Aah, yes” , and took another forkful of the delicious meal your mother had prepared for the dinner.

“Say, I have listened to a few of those.. Where do you get inspiration to write such things?”

He almost choked on his food then and there.

His brain refused to cooperate as he tried to think of the right words to say, but could only stutter in return. Oh god, we was so bad at leaving first impressions, and that’s what made him so nervous, because he couldn’t mess this one up.

“So yeah, there’s different types of songs. For, let’s say, Wake Me Up displays how unrighteous and emotionless modern society had become, drowning out all that is creative and replacing it by neat copies of the same factory-sealed views and beliefs.”

“On the other hand, something like X is about a cute date I’d planned with your daughter, yet the only thing that turned out to be cute about it was the weak and pouty voice she called me in next morning because she was unable to move or walk after a night like that-”

He felt your fingers intertwining with his under the table, and took it as a “babe, you’re thinking and not speaking again.” So, clearing his throat, he tried to speak. Appropriately this time, that is.

“There’s two recent singles - Honeymoon and Hands Up. Honeymoon displays my views on how life should be treated as a colorful thing, and how troubles can always somehow be overcome. Hands Up, on the other hand, is about believing in yourself and your dreams which is what I’ve tried to do since early age. All those lyrics are really just my thoughts put out on paper. Nothing more and nothing less.”

And as your parents looked satisfied with the answer and even told him how they thought he was well worded and with a quite right perception of the world, he let out a quiet, barely-there relieved sigh.

“See? Ain’t that hard,” you whispered to him, hearing him chuckle.

“My brain went straight to thinking about X though-”

“Yongguk-ah, don’t you dare!”

-HIMCHAN-

His confidence had been drained today, which didn’t help at all.

His smiles only seemed half as charming, and you knew it was because he was stressed. He was usually good at meeting people and leaving good impressions. Always talkative and fun, but he had one slight issue that always haunted him.

A mind full of insecurity and fears of saying wrong things, because he often let questionable phrases slip here and there, making brows rise at his statements.

“Himchan-ah,” you saw your parents engaging in their own conversation, and leaned over to him, whispering his name two times before finally catching his attention.

“Hey, are you alright-”

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” he tried to force a smile, but you knew him better. If there was no eye dimple on display, there was no real smile there either.

“Stop stressing about it. Everything’s going nice. Just be yourself and they’ll love you,” you told him, and he nodded, trying his best to believe.

“How’s the dinner?” your mother asked after a while, earning praise for having cooked a really nice meal.

“How are you managing living with her, Himchan? Last time I checked, (Y/N)’s cooking wasn’t all that good-”

“Mom!” you shouted back, yet everyone was already chuckling at you and your lack of cooking ability.

“It’s not the worst either, actually,” Himchan answered, and you were glad that at least someone was on your side, “But, whenever I have time, I’m usually the one cooking anyways. Or we both do it together.”

“Ooh,” you heard your mother say, and saw as she threw your father a glance, “Do you hear? And all you keep telling me is that men can’t cook, which is why you won’t even try. There’s living proof sitting right across of you that they can.”

Chuckles filled the room again as your father admitted he might’ve been wrong, and as you glanced over at Himchan, you figured he was getting a little bit more at ease with the situation.

He was smiling, and the eye dimple was on full display. So all was going uphill.

-DAEHYUN-

“You’re so quiet,” you poked his side, laughing a little too loud as he jumped and almost dropped his fork on the plate.

“(Y/N), do I really have to scold you for giving Daehyun a hard time!?” your mother who had seen it all rose a brow at you, and you let out a happy protesting sound.

“But mom! He’s being so quiet I have to do something about it!! He’s actually the opposite of how he’d acting now!”

“I’m just a little nervous, it’s nothing,” he smiled a heartwarming smile at your mother, trying to read her facial expression.

He was holding back so hard from being his regular self. He knew you adored loud, annoying Daehyun, but he knew that this personality of his might come off as too easy-going and not proper enough. And he wanted to leave the right first impression, really.

“Don’t be. In fact, I might know a way to make it a little easier for you.”

You and Daehyun both leaned in to listen carefully. Your mom was up to something, as the second she started talking, you wanted to vanish from the table. Fall through the ground Run away in shame or something - it didn’t matter. As long as you would get away from there as soon as possible.

“The way she poked you like that - there was this boy once when they were still in elementary school, and she was head-over-heels crushing on him-”

“Noo, mom, stop right there!! Please!!”

“So, and she always poked him like this, magically thinking that it was a way of showing affection or something. I even got calls from the teachers to make her stop doing it, because she was annoying the poor lad so much he didn’t want to go to school-”

“Mooom, stop embarrassing me! I really didn’t know how love worked back then, okay!?” you cried out, hiding your face in your hands.

“Looks like you still don’t know how it works. You poke me all the time,” Daehyun chuckled, and your reflexes made you poke him so he would shut up.

Laughs filled the room at your initial reaction, and, even though you were beyond embarrassed, you saw how Daehyun was slowly turning to show his true colors. And that was all that mattered, even though it was achieved through digging up repressed memories.

Festive Preparations Gone Wrong - maknae line

-YOUNGJAE-

“Youngjae-ah.. What do you mean by “I kinda ruined the tree?””

“N-nothing,” he flashed you a smile, yet his frantic tries to not let you into the living room, blocking the door with his whole frame and outstretched hands made it pretty bloody obvious something had gone terribly wrong. If it wouldn’t have, he would be his normal, slightly cocky and charismatic self.

“It looks like you’re trying to hide something from me though,” you smirked, taking a step closer and seeing how he flinched a little, “Or are my eyes fooling me?”

“They probably are, because all is fine and I’m acting completely normal..” he looked away, scratching the back of his head and squirming when your arms wrapped around his neck lightly.

“You seem so tense,” you cooed at him, face at an inappropriately close distance, playing him in a way he never refused to be played because he loved it so damn much, “Let me help you with it.”

Without any chance to pull away - and without any desire to do so - he felt your lips pressing onto his in a soft and firm fashion at first. Yet as your hands tangled into his hair and your tongue moved mischievously, asking to be let in, he kind of lost control. His mind fogged, and he let himself be lead by you, not noticing how one of your hands sneakily trailed down his body and went past him, reaching for the door knob, opening the door without a single sound.

“How’s that?” you stared up at him with dreamy eyes, biting your lip to prevent any laughter from escaping you.

“Absolutely amazing-”

“Yeah, unlike your tree,” you said, and only now he realized you’d opened the door, and frantically turned around to face the living room, with you wrapping your arm around his waist and joining in.

“How did you even-”

“Don’t ask. I tried to place the star, and it wouldn’t stand straight. So I cut the tree a little, but it was still crooked when I put it on. And then I had to cut a few top branches, because it looked stupid, and… And yeah, here we are. I’m aware it looks stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he heard you say, and looked at you in confusion, “At least it’s original. I’ve never had such a weirdly shaped tree, but, like.. It’s fine. It will make me laugh out loud every time I look at it.”

“Thank god, I thought you’d kill me,” he sighed in relief, causing you to chuckle.

-JONGUP-

All went fine, until you heard a quiet, cracking noise. And all lights, accompanied by all electronics in the house, went out.

“Jongup-ah!!” you called for him, yet at the same time his name left your lips, you heard him groan in the other room.

“Jongup-ah, forget it,” you told him as you appeared in the living room doorway, your phone’s flashlight directed at his frame that was seated on the floor, tangled in Christmas lights.

“I told you that you can’t possibly put this many lights on at the same time.”

“Oh, I somehow will,” he sounded as annoyed as ever, and you only chuckled at him and his desperate tries to make the room look like Christmas paradise. Leaving him to be, you didn’t think much when you went back into the kitchen. You thought he would wander back outside to fix the electricity, and would come back to try and connect too many electronics for the electricity network to handle, constantly making it break down again. Yet as darkness was still there after circa ten minutes, you started worrying.

“Jongup-ah-” you had wandered outside to take a look at what he was doing just to see sparks flying everywhere out of the switchboard.

“Nope, nope, nope, forget it,” he quietly muttered and hurried over to your side, watching the last few sparks flying by and, as everything had gone silent, sighing in defeat.

“See, what did I tell you?”

“The truth, I guess,” he scratched the back of his head, peaking out of the doorway to throw the switchboard a final look, “But it doesn’t really matter. I messed up and we’re left without electricity for Christmas.”

He sighed, hanging his head down low. You could easily see right through him - he was blaming himself, which, to be honest, was right - he was to blame. Yet you didn’t want him to feel bad, because, after all, his intentions were good.

“Hey, look at it from the bright side,” you wrapped your arms around his waist, making him direct his full attention at you, “I have some lights that run on batteries lying around. And tons of candles. The dinner had been made already, and we can go have, like, a romantic meal or something instead of the regular boring Christmas dinner.”

And he looked beyond grateful for such a turn of events, giving you a sweet little kiss and tons of gratefulness in the form of hugs, “thank you’s” and smiles.

-JUNHONG-

“So.. How much do you love me?”

You looked at him, all alarms immediately kicking off at his innocently fluttering eyes and his little, mischievous smile

“I’m about to love you a little less than I did, or so it seems,” your stare that followed him around as he made his way to you looked suspicious, and he chuckled nervously, wrapping his arms around you and swinging your frames from side to side.

“You won’t,” he gave you a cute eskimo kiss before giving you the real thing, “You’ll always love me just as much.”

“Even after you..”

“.. Even after I burned the chicken in the oven.”

You groaned, hearing another nervous chuckle escape him. He was such.. Such a disaster in the kitchen. Why did you even leave him there to take care of dinner?

“Remind me again, why did I leave a kid unattended in the kitchen?” you questioned, seeing as he pouted at being called a kid, “Because I really don’t remember. Aah, Junhong-ah.. Why are you so.. I don’t know.. Clumsy? Inattentive? You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know,” he looked away, and you saw guilt straining his eyes, “I don’t know. It just happened, and I’m sorry.”

“Eh, I know you are,” you told him, scooting closer and burying your face in his chest as he smiled and tightened his grip, “I was just kinda looking forwards to chicken. But mistakes happen. Don’t break your head and heart over it.”

As you stood there with him, realization about something else hit you.

“Junhong-ah.. You did take the burned chicken out and turn off the oven, right?”

“I.. Guess,” he stared back cluelessly as you eyes widened, “I don’t remember.”

“You have to be kidding me,” you escaped his grip, hurrying to the kitchen in order to check and being closely followed by him and his stream of apologies.

“Junhong-ah, do you wanna burn the house down or what!?”

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jenniferisacommonname · 3 years

Text

Voiceactors in my Head

One of my many contradictory feature sets is a silent, circumventing stubbornness paired with a pathological fear of confrontation. I will get what I want, and I will not stand my ground if verbally pressed on it. I concede points like it’s an Olympic sport. But as long as everyone's still smiling—gently, snidely, or otherwise—then I can go on forever. Case in point, I once trolled a stranger on the internet for over a year. (Don’t worry; by the end of the story you’ll be on my side again. And if you’re not, well, I mostly agree with you.)

It all started with a CD which was, at the time, exclusively available through the record label’s website. This was back in 2005, when online retailers still ran on frontier justice and only fools uttered the words “free shipping.” Needless to say, I did not have an existing account.

But we do what we must. So I bent the knee, and delivered my modern-day rogation of name, email, and PII governed by the Sarbanes-Oxley Act in order to receive my one CD—then I defiantly wasted that effort by never patronizing their establishment again. I mean, the album was fine, and I’m sure they had other struggling artists whose work I would have enjoyed, but apparently I’m against creative expression and the American small business owner or something.

Anyway, five years of blissful non-interaction go by. Then one day in 2010, I get a mass email from the founder of this little indie record label. It was—or at least it aspired to be—a classic “starting a new chapter” kind of announcement, letting everyone know that he had sold his (incredibly!) successful company, and was using the proceeds to start a charity that would bring music lessons to inner city children.

And, hey, I thought, that’s cool. Music is great for kids. Except… the tone of the email was weird. It was more than just casual; it was chummy. The concept of a YouTuber didn’t exist back then, but here was its primordial ancestor, testing the beachhead with its nascent flipper-legs of peppy chic.

“Yo, J-dawg, how's it hanging? Remember back in [mail-merged year] when you bought [whatever]? What a great album, am I right?! Anyway, it's been so long since we rapped, I thought I'd update you on my sitch…”

Obviously, I’m paraphrasing, but that’s how the voiceactor in my head performed it. And it just rubbed me so hard the wrong way. I mean, look, I get it—we live in a promotional society, and there's no avoiding that. I’ve done my fair share of book pimping, and if you have a legitimate fan base the intrusion can even be a welcome one. So, fine. Tell me about your thing—once—and maybe I'll buy it. But don't act like we're friends, like I have some kind of obligation to you beyond this basic consumer relationship that we've established.

So my gut reaction was a hard pass, pleading children’s eyes be damned. But the email didn’t include a link to unsubscribe. This spammer was so brazen, he had sent the message from his personal email account, as if threats like “more updates to come!” belonged in anything but a ransom note font. If I wanted my name off the list, I would have to actually write him back, creating exactly the kind of low-stakes, one-on-one confrontation that we all know is worse than torture.

How would I even phrase it, knowing that his overture was from the heart and my rejection would travel right back along that path? “Listen, amigo, I know you probably spent an hour composing this raw, honest self-reflection on your priorities, but it’s garbage, and I never want to hear from you again. Please keep in mind that while you have failed to inspire me, you’ve also failed the children. Because you’re a failure.”

The actual words wouldn’t matter; I was sure that’s what he’d hear. In fact, I would argue that a polite rejection is often worse, because it leaves no option for the rejectee to write off the loss as a dodged bullet. They really were a nice person, and you’ll probably never find anyone so humble again, you loser.

So instead, I got out my favorite piece of social armor: the ironic “yes, and.” In improv theater, if a scene partner implies that you’re the best of friends, you don’t argue with them. You commit to the bit. So I did.

“Oh my God, Steve, it's so good to hear from you!” I wrote (except I used his real name, of course.) “I can’t believe you still remember our special album. Makes me weepy just thinking about what it meant to us. Anyway, here’s what’s been going on in my life...” Then without warning, I dumped several years’ worth of emotional trauma on him—about severe autism, and how hard day-to-day life was, and how each treatment brought hope and frustration in equal measure while somehow never easing my crippling fear of the future. It was a therapy session on steroids, directed at a stranger under the guise of bitter sarcasm. My flippant sign-off left no doubts about my true feelings: “Anyway, as I’m sure you can imagine, we are flat broke with medical bills, bruh! So I'm gonna need you to take us off your list. But in the meantime, here are some autism charities that you could donate to on our behalf, since we're such good friends.”

To be clear, open snark isn’t remotely in the spirit of “yes, and.” But it felt better in that moment than honest rejection, and I figured he’d take the hint.

Instead, the guy wrote back.

“Wow, what an amazing story!” he said. “Crazy world we live in. I'll go ahead and take you off the list, but I do hope you'll think of us in the future.”

Ugh. He had met my bad behavior with empathy, and I felt moderately ashamed. Then again, you couldn’t argue with results, and at least I knew this ordeal was behind me.

Except he didn't take me off the list. A couple of weeks later, I get another fake-personal email, which I must again paraphrase, though I remember with furious precision the way it made me feel. “Heyyyy Jenn-ster, it's me again! I know how much you've always loved music, so I know you're gonna want to hear about this...”

BITCH. YOU. DON’T. KNOW. ME.

“Steve, what happened?!” I wrote back. “You used to be such a good listener! I think the money's changed you, man.” And I asked once again to be taken off the list.

This time, he ignored me. No reply, and the spam kept coming.

So I just decided that this was going to be our thing. Every time he sent me an email full of stuff I didn't care about, I was going to send him an email full of stuff he didn't care about. Except I kept pushing it a little farther each time, like, “Ooh, potty training's not going so great, let me tell you all about it...” And at the end of every email I'd always remind him, “Hey, anytime you want to stop getting updates on my son's bowel movements, all you have to do is take me off your list.” Sometimes I bolded it; once I super-sized it into a 40-point font. But he never did.

This went on for over a year.

But I won.

It’s a trite saying, but sometimes a picture really is worth a thousand words. The last email I ever got from this guy was short, which was unusual for him, and it said something like, “Great news! We've just graduated our first class of students—check out these pics!” (Why am I paraphrasing so much, when email is forever and I could just go back and give you direct quotes? Stop asking questions and roll with me for a minute.) Anyway, embedded in the email, like already loaded and filling the screen HTML-style, was this giant picture of… I don’t know, a kid kissing a trumpet or something. It was probably super cute, to be honest—but I was on a mission.

“Great news!” I wrote back, trying as always to mimic the exact structure of whatever he had sent me. “My son just had a colonoscopy—check out these pics!” And I pasted the actual medical photos of my child’s rectal passage into the email, pre-loaded and filling the screen, so he’d be forced to view them against his will, just as I’d been forced to endure his endless marketing crap.

Sure enough, he never emailed me again.

Pretty good story, right? And that closer—I mean how can you top sending medical photos to a complete stranger just to gross them out? Unfortunately (or fortunately; I’ll leave it up to you,) this one has a weirdly philosophical denouement. If you like your narratives sassy and single-layered, I suggest you duck out now.

Around 2015, I was trawling my past for wild stories that could be condensed into a tight three minutes for open mic night, and ‘that time I emailed colonoscopy pics to a spammer’ was an obvious contender. Once I had the basic structure written down, more or less exactly as I remembered it, I went digging through those ancient emails to finalize the details.

And what I found was… not what I remembered. The story I told above clearly had some emotional embellishments (see: paraphrasing), but it was fundamentally true in circumstance, I thought. And, yes, I really did send this guy two pictures of my son’s colonoscopy, though they were just thumbnail attachments, not embedded. But the text of my actual emails to him barely came off as snarky at all, and I never once told him in clear terms to take me off his list. There are a few lame hints at irony that you can pick out if you really squint, but by and large I was just… writing him back. Like we were friends.

Which is a good thing, because his emails to me were even less accurate in my memory than mine had been. He hadn’t cut me off; he’d replied to every single email I’d sent, in a way that made it clear that he’d watched every video and read every article. He was cordial, empathetic, and seemed genuinely interested in my kids. It was a therapy session on steroids, all right—minus the steroids.

BITCH.

YOU. KNOW. ME.

And in return for all this kindness, I had sent him horrific medical photos for no reason. To which he had replied (and this time I’m not paraphrasing,) “Thanks for the update on your son. I appreciate it. Keep up the good work. All the best to you both.” The updates from him had indeed ceased after that, but from what I can tell it was just a coincidental winding down of that particular enterprise, not a removal of my name from any specific list.

Eventually, I ended up emailing him again, this time as a penitential mea culpa to ease my own conscience. I explained the situation, and apologized for my unfair judgment of years past, plus of course the unsolicited sigmoid landscapes. He thought the whole thing was hilarious, and admitted that he’d never once picked up on my poorly-conveyed bitterness.

More important than the personal amends, though, was the lesson I had to swallow about how emotions don’t just cloud memories—sometimes they invent them out of whole cloth. I swear, I swear I remember a photo of a kid graduating from his charitable music lessons, but I can find absolutely no evidence of it anywhere. My brain made it up to retroactively justify my behavior: yes, I sent a photo, but only because he sent a photo first. It’s not even a remotely good justification, but I guess it took the edge off just enough to keep seeing myself as a good person.

It was an important lesson professionally, too. History is nothing but a mashup of inherently self-serving memories, and multiple perspectives can only draw a narrative closer to objective truth by half-steps, never to fully reach its destination. Even hard evidence is fallible, because my emails as written did not accurately represent how I felt when I wrote them, which is an important part of the story in its own way. Misinterpretations and flawed perspectives are inevitable, but they’re also necessary, and stripping them out as a historian is just as wrong as taking them at face value. A story is both what the participants think it is, and what we know it isn’t—especially when those two conflict—and every non-fiction piece I write is just somebody else’s therapy session on steroids.

#spam #spammers #autism #troll #colonoscopy #medical photo #stand up #open mic #music #album #online retail

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ikonislife · 7 years

Text

Here For You.

-Bobby x Reader

-Expecting parents au, fluff

-Better Together - I had another dad!Jiwon request so I decided to make a little continuation for this piece.

-I can already imagine this fluffy ball of sunshine with his future kids. He’s honestly so caring and amazing with everyone he meets that i’d bet he’d be the dad of all dads. Also, I am so sorry this only goes up now even though you sent this in like months ago. School and work got rough and unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to do any writing the past month or two. I’m really really really sorry for putting it up so late. I hope you haven’t given up on waiting for it and that it fits your imagination. Father’s day just past and I wish all the dads out there a happy, healthy life. Shout out to all the dads that not only there for their wives and kids physically, financially but also mentally and spiritually. Again, I am so sorry for being this late and I hope you enjoy.

You hiss under your breath, mutter a cuss that gets whisk away faster than your temper lately under the wing of the exhale of a sigh.

“Growing a new life is a beautiful thing my ass…”

Jiwon’s head snaps up at your mumbling of what sounding like a curse in some dead language. God knows what you’re grumbling about now as he shakes his head slightly, having already given up long ago on trying to make out anything you say in your strange trances of wandering around your humble abode all the while glaring daggers his way.

“Whose ass is beautiful baby?” He feigns ignorant anyhow, deciding to amuse himself with one of your all too frequent outburst as of late that he weirdly enough finds endearing. God knows he needs all the entertainment he could get to stay awake having to get up for the 3rd time in the mere 5 hours since you both headed to bed at midnight.

“Of course you’d pay attention to the word ‘ass’”

You drop your body onto the cold tiled floor, chest could barely keeps up with providing your body with enough oxygen to function let alone the dry heaving that sours your lips and sears your throat. Glass of water in hand, he storms into the small bathroom like, like Aquaman…. Seriously, how does this guy survive never wearing a shirt, ever, even when it’s minus 3 billion degree outside. Strong arms and familiar scent bring the comfort not even the most exorbitant of comforters and mattresses could offer as you lay your head onto his bare chest, listening to the calming beats of his heart and the rumble of a giggle from your comment.

“Jiwon, can you please put on a shirt… Looking at you make me cold.” You groan at the salvation of the clear liquid sloshing about meeting your lips, more landing on the floor than your mouth as you shiver under the night cold wind.

“You weren’t complaining about my glorious body last night, baby. And see! I told you the heated floor would be a good investment.” He retorts with all the sunshine might he could despite the graveling in his voice and the low tone of a rude awakening so early in the morning telling you otherwise.

“You say ‘glorious body’ one more time, see what happen.” Ice cold lasers shoot from your eyes as he cowers, pressing a bribing kiss onto your forehead. “Don’t make me regret moving in with you, asshole. We all know how well things turn out that night your glorious body’s decided on exercising its full potential on me.”

“You speak like you have a choice there my partner for life. The little paper in my office said you’re stuck with me in sickness or in health, poor or rich, for this eternity and all the ones after that. Plus, I clearly remember you practically screaming yes after I said let’s make a baby. Don’t act like I lured you into this.” Another searing kiss meets your pale cold skin as tender circles push life back into your frost bitten shoulders.

“I believe the correct phrasing is till death do us part and right now, it feels pretty close to death.” The shudder of another round of acid searing your internal rings through the air like the clearest of bells as you lunge forward over the porcelain bowl. It’s not so much the expelling of various digested unidentifiable content that bothers you, rather it’s the constant dry heaving that drives you insane.

“Baby… I’m sorry. I’d take it all alway if I could. I’ll be the one pregnant and you can just rest. I’m so sorry. I’m so useless… I wish there was more I could do. I just-” He whimpers, mischievousness gone as worry takes hold of his expression and it honestly hurts more than your stomach doing flips and tricks as if it’s a circus performer. Despite the constant complaining and hormone induced mood swing, you cannot be happier to be growing a family with such an incredible human being.

Jiwon had been nothing but an angel taking all the bullshit you’ve thrown his way, treating you so well you’d bet all your money the queen would be jealous. The adoration in his eyes just lulls all the turmoil of being a young parent and all the worries of all the uncertainties of the future to sleep. Sure neither of you are super young nor was this an unplanned pregnancy. Yet there was still so much… how could you put that uneasiness in words. That unsettling feeling of the what ifs sinking deep in your heart just below the elating joy of seeing that red plus sign flashing bright on the small window of the pee stick.

What if YG decide to put the boys on a 6 months world wide tour when you’re near the due date? What if you can’t be a good enough mother and a wife? What if Jiwon hates you now that you’re all bloated and waddling around like a planet with duck’s feet? Would he be happy with his wife looking less than ready for all the crazy stalker fans and the media? What if you drop your own baby right there in the delivery room? What kind of a mother would you be if child services come and whisk your little bundle of joy away then and there? God forbid something happens to your baby during the pregnancy.

So many thoughts ran through your mind that night as you laid in bed in the dark, awaiting his arrival from a long day of practice. Funny though, he had thought a serious talk was about to ensue as his eyes were met with dead silent and shadow that engulf the living room that’s usually brightly lit. He crept into the house, settling down on the bed just next to your stilled snoring body as he placed a small kiss upon your cheek.

“Hey, baby.” you remember him whispering. “Is everything alright? Do we need to talk about anything?” You can still clearly recall the trembling in his fingers as they so gently swept away your dishevel hair to read your expression.

“Yea, we do…” You mumbled sluggishly under an exhausted groan, body stretching to rid the dull aching of your joints. Then you were met with the terror in his eyes and the panic stricken man swallowed you whole in his safe embrace. He sighed heavily yet made no sound as he waited for your next word.

“I have a present for you… I wanted to wait up but I’ve been so tired lately. I guess it makes sense now why I’m so tired all the time. I’m sorry, Jiwon. I know you like it when I stay up to wait for you. You’ll understand when you see my present.” Nuzzling your face further into his chest, you gestured toward the night stand with your eyes close and body moulding against his. A sigh of perhaps relief permeated through the air as you felt his muscles flexing when he reached toward the stand to grab the small white box adorning a little bow waiting patiently all night for its owner.

“Don’t be sorry. My schedule is erratic enough, I can’t afford you risking your health staying up late for me. But… What’s the occasion, love?” He whispered, fear still rooted deep in his gentle words of uncertainty.

“Just… You know me, I’ve never liked the idea of only giving presents on certain dates. why do we need an occasion to give each other present. Why not just giving it on a random day to show that I think about you constantly.” Still refusing to meet his eyes, you let yourself slipped slowly into one of the strange drowsy trances that seemed to be the norm as of late. A swift sound of air rushing from Jiwon svelte fingers removing the bow, a gasp, and a “no fucking way” later, you were rudely awoken from your slumber with a string of wet kisses.

“You’re not joking right, baby? Like, for real. Wait I need to check the date, where’s my phone, where’s your phone, oh my god where’s a calendar when I need one. SSSHIT.” No sooner than the last cuss left his lips, he hopped off the bed lightning fast, diving for any indication of what day it was.

“Why are you looking for the calendar, silly? It’s June 19.” No chance of going back to sleep now so you might as well get up. Sitting crossed legs in the middle of the bed, you watched as he bounced around the room, the test stick still in his hand.

“Because, I need to know it’s not April’s fool. Christ, baby. For a second there, I thought you were gonna make me sign the divorce paper. Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m so happy right now I don’t even know what I’m doing. I need to call my mom. I need to call your mom. I need to call everyone’s mom.” Kisses coming from every angle, you were nearly toppled backward as he surrounded you with as much love as he could give, a bright smile never left his face.

“Jiwon…” Fond memory fading away, a ragged breath leaves your lips as you clutch tightly onto his muscular arm. “I know I complain a lot but I’m really happy we’re doing this. I can’t ask for a better husband and soon to be dad than you. You’re perfect, baby. Stop apologizing.” Pushing yourself off the cold floor now, you try your best for his sake to mask the storm inside with a smile before heading to brush your teeth.

As you glance at your own reflection, the many nights of restless sleep and early date with the toilet had really taken a toll. Your eyes had not been so sunken to the depth of the Titanic since your grad school years. Skin dull and barely much colors, you honestly couldn’t care much for make up with the sheer exhaustion from just waking up. A slight frown finds itself resting upon your lips as the pace of your toothbrush dawdles to a stop. No sooner than a long sigh begins to huff away from your nose, Jiwon already had his arms tight around your slumping frame, hands smoothing up and down against your belly.

“Baby, you know you’re the most beautiful person in this world right? I love you so much. You’re just so kind and caring sometimes I feel guilty because i could only hope I take care of you as well as you do me. You never needed to do much to your appearance, actually you need not anything at all and I fall head over heels for you every. single. damn. time. you look my way.” God the way his voice drips like honey yet there’s just that slight touch of gravel just in the back of his throat from the early hours just drives you insane. You love Bobby and his never ending charms on stage but the Jiwon that whispers in your ears late at night, reminding you of how much he loves you… That’s something you won’t ever get used to. He never fails to light that spark in your stomach, intensify the fire in your heart just with his honest confession while wrapping his arms around your body like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“You were always wonderful and understanding when I was anything but that just from being so stress out all the time. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call you my wife, to have a baby with you. Don’t you dare doubt yourself, alright?” He had been resting his head against your shoulder so peacefully up till now. With the last whisper, Jiwon presses a big kiss onto your shoulder as he always did whenever a back hug was called for after a long day of work. “I can’t wait for your tummy to get a little bigger so I can boast to everyone just how proud I am of my magnificent wife. I want everyone to know how lucky I am to have you and our baby in my life. I always hate it when the media made it out to be that you were the lucky one, marrying some rich idol. If only they know how much you sacrifice for this dumb ass husband of yours. How much I depend on you for every little thing. How lost I would be without you. How truly lucky I was to be the one you picked out of all the bastards that pinned after you all those years ago. If only they now how stupendously, extremely infatuated I am with everything you do, everything you are. Even after all these years, I’m just as smitten with you as I was our first date. Thank you for giving up so much for me and now to give me the ultimate gift of all. I love you.” By his confession end, your mouth was rid of the minty foam and tears of pain replaced with tears of happiness as you spin around in his arms, fastening your own tight around his waist.

“How could I ever thank you enough for always being there for me. I know I raise hell and can be so goddamn unreasonable like 90% of the time yet all you do is smile. I don’t want you to think that I-I don’t want our baby, or or anything like that… I just, it’s exhausting sometimes and you know parenting class, it should help but it doesn’t and all it does is make me worry more about this and that and oh my God what if I’m a horrible mother and our baby hate me and you’ll hate me and and an-” Your frantic words were silenced with a fervid kiss. He kisses you as if you hadn’t kiss in months from the grueling tours, as if this was the long awaited kiss you shared on your first date. The kiss that sealed the deal after years of the shy two way crush burning away with passion at the realization that all along you both love each other. He kisses you and not once did his hands leave your body as the affectionately pet and caress peace back into your perturbed self.

“You talk too much sometimes, you know that? Don’t you dare start with the whole what ifs. No. We’re doing this together and sure we got a big learning curve but so what. We got family to support us. We got this babe!” Damn his eye smile and those too good for this word bunny grin. One glance at your handsome man and you already felt like all is right in the world as he effortlessly carries you back to bed. All tucked in, you breathe easy as the serene air settles over the barely lit bedroom once more. Suddenly, your nausea, the back pain, the aching joint, and the constant mood swings seem to be just a small bump in the road. None of it seems to matter much as Jiwon snuggles close into the crook of your neck, large hand protectively yet delicately places over your slowly growing belly. With a smile, you let yourself fall asleep knowing no matter what happen in the future, Jiwon will always be the foundation that get you through.

Part 2.

#iKon #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ikon fanfic #ikon bobby #iKON jiwon #kim jiwon #Bobby #Bobby Kim #jiwon scenarios #jiwon imagines #bobby scenarios #bobby imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #ikonic

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thewinsister · 7 years

Text

You are Strong

Warnings: anorexia? kinda. lowkey FLUFF

Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Sister Reader.

Request/Summary: Could you please do a imagine? The Reader is 15 y/o and she's having a hard time.Because she thinks that she's too fat,and she's at the edge of a eating disorder.And Dean finds out one day bc she's crying right after she ate I know it's a tough one❤

Age: the request says 15 but it can be any really

Word Count: 1,378

Y/N: your name

Y/N/N: you nickname

Y/F/F: your favourite food.

You are a hunter, you faced terrifying creatures every other day, you’ve met the devil himself and yet, for some damn reason the only thing that currently haunted you day and night were too short words. Too fat. You were forever tormented by what were really just numbers; how much you’ve eaten during the day, the size of the portions you ate, the calories, carbs, sugars, you name it. Every day you found yourself counting everything and yet, you couldn’t help it.

It had started a couple months back, you had only just gone on a diet simply cutting out most carbs. Then another diet, and another until finally you had cut out almost everything. You stopped going on hunts because you were too tired, your head was always hurting and you always felt sick. You were afraid of not knowing how to control yourself. You weren’t anorexic, you knew that, you still ate. In the morning one egg and coffee no milk or sugar, you ate a salad during lunch and for dinner you would drink a cup of tea. In between these “meals” you filled your body with loads of water and locked yourself in your room.

You laid in your bed staring at the ceiling, you didn’t move for hours, or rather you couldn’t. Your limbs ached as you heard the clock ticking, the fan creaking as it spun around and around over your body, your stomach growling for food. You were hungry, yes, but you didn’t give in to the sick feeling deep inside your empty organs. Tick-tock tick-tock you waited for time to pass by hoping and wishing for it to go quickly so you don’t have to eat and just sleep. It didn’t work, the time continued as slowly as it always did and always will.

A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts. “Come in.” you said still blankly staring at the dull ceiling. You heard the creaking of the door and the squeak of the loose floor boards as your brother walked in.

“Hey Y/N, dinners ready.” Dean said, you continued looking up at the ceiling.

“Eh, I’m not hungry.” You said in a monotone voice, but your stomach gave it away letting out a loud and long grown. Goddammit.

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Dean chuckled, he knew something was wrong with you but he didn’t know what. “You sure? It’s your favourite. Y/F/F.” He finished seeing as you didn’t respond.

“I don’t know.” you said looking at him finally, you neck aching as you did so.

“I don’t know? Come on kid you’re eating.” He said walking towards you, grabbing you and putting you over his shoulder. You started to giggle slightly but stopped when you felt the sharp pain in your stomach. He finally put you down in a chair in front of Sam and placed the delicious looking food on the table. You wanted to resist but you just couldn’t. If you didn’t you’d hurt Deans feelings and that’d be terrible, and it was Y/F/F. But if you did eat that’d be worse, right?

You chose Deans feelings was more important, but you kept in mind how much you’d eat. You were quiet the entire dinner, whenever Sam or Dean asked you a question you answered shortly. When it was over you had eaten less than half.

“Hey, I thought it was your favourite.” Sam said seeing how little you ate. It wasn’t usual for you to eat so little, specially if it was your favourite food.

“It is.” You said looking away, his stares were too hard on you. It felt like he was trying to read your mind, and you couldn’t have that could you.

“Then why’d you eat so little? You’re eating like a bird” (A/N that probably makes more sense in Spanish, it’s the phrase “come como pajarito” which just means you eat too little..) He said back, still looking at you weirdly, as if trying to figure out a puzzle piece.

“I wasn’t that hungry.” You answered hotly before moving the plate to the sink, “now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to bed.” you finished finally making your way out as hot tears made their way out making your eyes glassy. You walked out fast enough for them not to notice though.

“Weird.” Dean said after hearing your foot steps die away and your bedroom door close.

“Tell me about it.” He answered still looking at the door you walked out of only seconds before. “What’s up with her?” He asked his older brother looking back at him.

“Don’t know. She’s been acting kinda weird recently.” Dean responded to Sam just as confused. “I’m gonna go talk to her see if she’s alright.”

“Yeah, I’ll clean up over here.” He said moving to the sink and began to wash the dishes as Dean walked out, willing to find out what was bugging his baby sister.

He arrived at your door, he took a deep breath before knocking on the hard surface. Hearing no response from you he knocked again a little harder. Again no response. He thought for a second before opening the door slightly and peeked his head in seeing you in a small ball next to your bed

“Y/N/N?” Dean called to you moving next to you. “Y/N/N? What’s wrong?” He asked tenderly, with worry laced in every word as he sat down next to where you were curled up .

“Leave me alone.” You managed to breath out as more sobs climbed their way out of your throat.

“Oh, sweetheart. I won’t be leaving till you tell me what’s wrong.” He said putting his arm around you. Although you didn’t want him there you put your head in his chest and continued crying until you calmed down as he rubbed circles on your back. When you had finally settled down he asked again. “Y/N/N, baby what’s wrong?”

You sniffled slightly, “I-I just.” you sighed “I just can’t help but feel that I’m too fat, and ugly.” you said softly your head still buried on your big brothers chest.

“What?” Dean answered this time it wasn’t soft he was just straight up confused.

“I said I’m too fat, I’m not pretty.” you said harder this time looking away from your soft eyed brother.

“Oh I heard you sweet heart. I just don’t know why you would think that.” He said staring at hardly but not in a harsh way, in an almost hurt way.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You asked looking down at your hands you were fat, ugly that’s what it was always like and it would probably be the same for a long time.

“I mean, you are not fat. You are not ugly.” He said holding your chin for you to look at him, “You are an amazing hunter, you are smart and kind. You are beautiful, you are you, and that’s the most beautiful thing I can think of.” He smiled at you and planted a kiss on your forehead and wiped your tears. “And I don’t ever want you thinking that again, because you are the one thing that makes me wake up in the morning after all the shit we’ve gone through, and the worst thing I can think of is you being hurt.”

“Thank you Dean.” you finally said. It was going to be hard, but you knew you would make it, cause after all you were strong. You hugged your big brother as tightly as you could, you felt him place his head on you head and you smiled.

“No problem baby.” He said smiling as well. He knows it’ll be rough, and he’s gonna be there every step of the way.

A few minutes past and he felt you go limp, he looked down at you and saw you resting on him happily asleep. He smiled to himself seeing you so calm, he carried you and softly placed you on the bed and tucked you in. Kissing your cheek he then left you to sleep, he walked over to the door and turned off the light. “Sweet dreams princess.” he whispered and closed the door.

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GAH. thank you all for staying even though I barely post anymore. I’ll try my best to post as much as I can, but recently I’ve just lost motivation. I still like writing and love writing these one shots but I feel really MEGH. anyways I hope everyone has had overall good holidays and vacations!

Requested by:

@kaydaysstuff

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