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ghostofwriting · 23 days

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Kildare Split Part Two: Place In Me

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Chapter 2: Place In Me

Note: Me: I don't know when I'll post chapter 2 maybe on the weekend but who knows. Also me: posts 3 hours after saying that. Once again I wanted to thank everyone for reading and interacting! I appreciate all of you so much. Not edited so be warned. I confused everyone with part 21 and this doesn't provide any answers! Just more context for other parts of the smau. Enjoy!

Warnings: none, bad writing, Rafe being mean, y/n being mean

Word Count: 3,371

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.

She thought that she made herself clear and that they understood where she was coming from after her speech in the green room.

She’s not expecting Barry to be sitting on the couch of the tour bus she had chosen to sleep in, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead from her run, slightly out of breath.

When she opens the door and sees him sitting there, she jumps.

“Fuck, Barry what the hell?” Barry had a very specific regime for show days. He should’ve been napping on the other bus.

“We can’t go on hiatus. You’re being selfish.” She feels her ears start burning, she scoffs at him.

“Selfish? You better be kidding me. The audacity of you to come in here and accuse me of being selfish?”

“Y-” She doesn’t let him continue.

“I have put up with this bullshit for two years, Barry! Just because I’m tired and need a break doesn’t make me selfish.”

“If you would just talk to him.”

“No. Fuck you. No.”

“If you talk to him, and he explains himself, you’ll understand and this can all go back to normal.”

“No. I will not fix this. I don’t need to fix this.”

“What happened to be there for each other?”

“Barry. You and Topper were supposed to be there for me!” She snaps, her voice rising.

“You were the only people who knew exactly what I was going through not only with Rafe but with the fame and the drugs and the people wanting things from me. You were going through it too, I know you were. But you abandoned me the second Rafe decided to what? Get in a relationship? You threw me away, I was so alone!”

Tears are threatening to spill over now. She hates how she can’t get angry without crying.

“I went through everything by myself and the people I thought were my best friends abandoned me. I get it okay. You chose your boy. But I thought I meant something to you. I thought I was your friend. He broke my heart and my spirit.” She stops to catch her breath, “I was a shell of a person and you still didn’t even ask me if I was okay. In two years you haven't checked in.”

“y/n..”

“He told me he didn’t want to live without me and the next day I found out he was seeing Sofia. And suddenly I wasn’t his friend or his bandmate or even a person. I was just someone he fucked. And I don’t care why he said that. I don’t care if he meant it or not or if he was lost and scared. He still said it. I’m done. I’m done with him, I’m done with this Los Angeles, I’m done. I don’t owe him anything. I don’t need to talk to him.” She finishes her chest heaving. Barry is staring at her, eyes wide.

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay in the band. But it’s work. That’s all. We aren’t friends.”

Barry’s silent. Still sitting on the bus couch.

“Get out. Please.”

+++

The early days of getting over Rafe were hard. She wanted to go back to who she was before him. The version of herself before she got involved with him. Journaling and writing song lyrics and poems could only do so much. Everyone told her that she needed someone else. She understood that but she didn’t feel like it. She wasn’t ready to get her heartbroken all over again.

Not when she constantly got her heart broken on tour, not only when she saw Rafe making out with Sofia backstage but when Barry walked right by her without acknowledging her existence, or when Topper pretended not to hear her. Her heart cracked every time for the little girl who trusted these boys with her entire being and let them in only for them to stomp all over her.

She spent endless nights on tour, alone in her hotel room crying at the top of her lungs and on the tour bus muffling the sound of her sobs with her pillow. So when people suggested she needed to meet someone to get over him, well, it didn’t sound like a good idea to just let someone else in to break her even more when they eventually left.

It got better little by little, the heartache over her friends hating her. The heartbreak over Rafe choosing someone who wasn’t her, someone who was worth it. The loneliness never did. It was crippling how alone she felt. There were times when she wanted to go back to the drugs, drinking, and partying. She would feel so much better if she just couldn’t feel anymore. She didn’t go back on the promise that she made to herself. She would never be that afraid high out of her mind 17-year-old girl again.

She isn’t sure if she gets over Rafe or if she learned to live with the pain. Sometimes she thinks she’s so angry at him and that’s the reason she doesn’t want him. She misses him all the time, she thinks she’ll miss him forever. At least who they were before they had sex and fucked it all up.

She lets everyone know that when the time comes she’ll make them all aware. Cleo tells her that she better be the first one who finds out she’s seeing someone. She tells her that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The day she met him was one of the most ordinary days she had lived in her entire life. She had woken up in her Los Angeles apartment, made herself breakfast, gone for a swim and gotten ready for the day. She didn’t have anything planned for the day, maybe tidy up a little, call Sarah, and run some errands. The craving to make brownies hits her out of nowhere, she doesn’t have any of the ingredients at her house though, the life of a touring artist.

She’s leaving the grocery store with her reusable bags filled to the brim with all her cravings. She’s digging in her tiny pink purse that can’t hold anything for her keys when she drops two of her bags.

She doesn’t want to get angry when she sees everything fall, she stares at it for a second, takes a deep breath and moves to pick it up. Once she gets everything together and packed up in her car, she decides that she needs a little treat for putting up with her groceries falling.

Her favorite pastry spot in LA is right by a hotel where all the celebrities who don’t live in the city full time. It’s usually a curse because everyone is hanging out or camping outside the hotel for a small glimpse of someone famous.

She thanks Caroline, the bakery owner and steps out of the store without looking at where she’s going. She feels herself collide into something strong and hard. Someone. Her pastries shake in the box. Of course, this would happen too. Why can’t she just keep herself from dropping her food today?

“I am so sorry.” She says to the man standing in front of her. He’s pretty, she thinks. Dark brown hair, almost black, brown eyes that look very familiar, and strong, and his arms are bulging where his black shirt sleeve ends. He’s hot.

“Don’t worry, you’re fine.” She hears his friend behind say something in a different language and the man in front of her shakes his head and smiles at her.

“Are they making fun of me for being a klutz?” He laughs.

“No, they think it’s funny that I would run into my celebrity crush. Literally.” Any other time, if someone confessed that she was their celebrity crush, she would run so far so fast. Something keeps her there, smiling like an idiot, at a loss for words. She says the first thing that pops into her head.

“Have we met? You look familiar.” She feels like she’s seen him somewhere but she can’t place him.

“Mira que te ha visto a través de la ventana.” one of his friends says, he shushes him not even turning to look.

“I’m an actor?” He says it like a question, his cheeks flush, and he’s embarrassed. It’s endearing.

“Yeah? Have I seen anything you’ve been in?”

“I doubt it.”

“So as your celebrity crush, it seems that I have a responsibility to watch whatever you’ve been in, don't you think?”

“No way.” He smiles at his friends doing a quiet chant of something behind him.

“No? Not even if you join me and walk me through it?” She knows she’s giving him eyes now, looking at him through her eyelashes, fluttering her eyelids a little too much. Her resolve is gone, she doesn’t know where her confidence is coming from and she’s going to use it until it’s gone.

“We could arrange that,” he pauses, “Julio.” He extends his hand out for her to shake.

“Y/N.” and maybe when she takes his hand she feels a shock run up her arm.

Maybe she’s being dramatic and jumping the gun but what if everything she’s been through led her to this moment? Right here with him.

+++

When Rafe finds out Y/N is seeing someone he tries not to lose it. He knows he has no right. His palms start sweating. He feels his breath shorten, he’s honestly a mess though he doesn’t show it.

At least not until Topper pushes him on the subject when they’re left alone.

“She’s seeing someone.” The room is eerily quiet, they’re in the studio recording their second album. Y/N had gone off to probably call her boyfriend and Barry was off doing who knows who.

“Yeah.” He’s short with his answer, scrolling on his phone to distract himself from the ever-intrusive thoughts of her her her.

“You good?” No. No, of course he’s not good.

“I have Sofia.” Topper clears his throat and continues his torture on him.

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah.” He looks over at Topper, his eyebrows lifting in acknowledgement.

They stay quiet for a few more minutes, the questions and thoughts and everything eating at him.

“Who’s the guy?” The question forces its way out of his mouth. He doesn’t want to know anything about the man that holds her heart.

“Some actor,” Topper responds nonchalantly, looking at him like he’s going to blow up if he moves anymore.

“Cool.” He wants to claw his heart out. What the fuck is happening to him right now.

“Rafe.” Topper isn’t convinced that it’s cool at all. Because Rafe can lie to everyone in his life but not Topper.

“No yeah, that’s cool. It’s great, yeah, good for her.” He knows he still doesn’t sound convincing.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Let her be happy.” He’s going to be mature about this. He asked Sofia to marry him last year for god sake. If he gets to be happy, she does too. Is he happy?

“Rafe.” Fucking Topper and his questions.

“I’ve fucked her life up enough. She deserves this. Deserves someone.” It spills out of him again, his eyes meeting with Topper’s, begging him to stop.

“Do you ever miss her?” Topper’s not showing him any mercy today, wanting to know everything he’s kept inside for the past two years.

“More than anything.”

“You fucked up” understatement of his life. He ruined her and in turn, ruined himself. He was stupid and selfish and he deserved the worst.

“Yeah.”

+++

“You have to apologize to her.” Rafe’s once again fiddling with his guitar. The arena is empty except for the techs playing with lightingThe stage had been set up the night before. Y/N was with Sarah exploring the city before she had to be back for soundcheck. Barry was taking a nap and Topper was being a pain in his ass. He tweeted some bullshit at him and Rafe had called him back to talk.

“I don’t have to do anything, she’s leaving.”

“Yeah because of you. Because of what you did to her.”

“I seem to remember that you were included in isolating her.”

“That only happened because she was so hurt she pushed everyone away and I thought I would make it worse by forcing her to talk. Anyway, that’s between y/n and I. You need to take responsibility, Rafe.”

“For what? It wasn’t my fault I didn’t love her.”

“Oh fuck off Rafe. You loved her. You were just scared.”

“Of course I was scared! It could’ve ruined everything. The band, our careers.”

“You shouldn’t have ever gotten involved.”

“I couldn’t help it!” He closes his eyes, doing the breathing exercises they taught him in rehab, in therapy.

“Please, just talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“You have to try!’

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Because I’m engaged. I’m with Sofia and I’m happy and if,” he breathes “if y/n were to even give me the slightest greenlight I would burn my whole relationship to the ground. Her whole relationship.” He says the last part under his breath, hoping Topper doesn’t hear it.

“What the fuck, Rafe?”

“I know.”

“Why now?”

“I did and said some shit back then to not fuck up the band. It was wrong, stupid and childish. It’s not a question of ‘why now,’ I never stopped.”

“You still love her.” Rafe doesn’t confirm or deny it. Topper shakes his head.

“You need to apologize.” Topper leaves Rafe to strum his guitar in thought.

+++

Everything changes when he comes into her life. It’s like she was living in this deep black hole of anger, sadness, and endless turmoil. He’s her calm. He grounds her and she feels like she can finally breathe. She hasn’t felt wanted in such a long time and even though they are long distance most of the time between his film schedule and her tours, she has never felt alone since meeting him.

She has a video from him every time she wakes up in the morning. Sometimes it’s just him telling her something that happened to him during the day, or a funny story, and sometimes he sings. She wishes she could drop an album just to feature him on it. She wants the entire world to know that he’s hers and she’s his and she is so incredibly in love.

It’s scary going from such a low to such a high. The extreme contrast is intimidating at times but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She learned what she wanted in a relationship from an extremely difficult situation and somehow it was all worth it as long as she got to have him in her life.

They’re together for a year before it gets out. They chose to be private about their relationship, it’s easy when he’s halfway across the world most of the time. That doesn’t stop her from spending every single moment that she isn’t on tour or in the studio next to him in Spain, Italy, France. She loves him. She would do anything for him. She knew that he was the one three weeks into their relationship and when she told him and he told her he felt the same, it confirmed it.

It’s her fault it gets out, he said it was about time and he wasn’t mad about it at all.

Sometimes she still finds that deep-seated anger she holds for Rafe bubbling over. It’s all-consuming and she can’t stop the venom that leaves her body.

When Rafe’s engagement gets out, she and Julio step out on a date night. Cleo calls the paparazzi for her. It’s a great plan until everyone is freaking out because they’re convinced she and Rafe were dating this entire time.

She loves her fans but sometimes the theories and threads get a little too much. Mostly because they’re correct most of the time.

At first, she was scared of Julio seeing all those things and seeing how everyone wanted her and Rafe to get married. She was scared he was going to run away. It never seemed to faze him. He never not once doubted her. He understands how people get and believes her when she tells him she chooses him for the rest of forever.

+++

Topper’s words haunt him. He wants to apologize to her and give her and himself some form of closure. He doesn’t know how to approach it. They haven’t talked in years, not really. How does he talk to the person that he hurt so much?

He catches her after soundcheck one day, his wringing his hands together, riddled with anxiety.

“Hey, Y/N?” He calls out after her as she passes him.

She slowly turns around and crosses her arms, raising her eyebrows at him in surprise.

“What can I do for you?”

He gulps as she looks at him expectantly.

“I was wondering if you had listened to the album?” What? Why the hell did he open with that?

“Why would I listen to the album?” She asks incredulously

“Well, because I mean it’s about,” he stumbles over his words, “I just wish you would listen to it and maybe hear me out.”

“You want me to listen to your album so that I can hear you?” She nods her head and puckers her lips.

“It’s so stupid that after all these years you can’t apologize to my face so you what? Make an album? Is your apology hidden in there somewhere?”

“Yes-No, I just think that if you gave it a chance, we could talk about it.”

“You want me to pretend to give a shit about your album when you can’t tell me how you feel right now in person?” She’s laughing a little now. Shocked at his suggestion. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“Please, can you just listen?”

“No Rafe. I am so done with this. I have been done with this. I don’t care about your album, I don't care about you.” Her words hit him like knives in his heart.

“Why do you care about my opinion about your album? Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know that your album is about me? You called it Angel, Rafe! The fucking nickname that you gave me when we were 12 years old! I’m not some dumb girl who you can just manipulate and get whatever you want out of her. Not anymore. I am not that person for you.” She stops, her hands coming down from where she was waving them. He wants to say something but his mouth is dry and he has a ball the size of a grapefruit stuck in his throat.

“You made it incredibly clear to me that you don’t think of me as a person. Like- what did you say to me? That I’m just a fuck?” He grimaces when she throws his words from three years ago back at him.

“Yeah, you said I’m just some girl you fuck, ‘you’re just some girl I fuck I don’t care about you.’ Sound about right?” He can’t move. He’s frozen.

“You could have worded it a million different ways and still gotten your message across. You could have been so much nicer. Let me down easy. Let me know in a better way that you found someone that you wanted to get to know. I would’ve put everything aside and just been your friend but no, you decided that I meant nothing to you, that everything we had been through, everything we had built, Our friendship was not important to you.”

“Because I’m just someone you fucked. So, Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about my opinion because you’re just someone I fucked too and someone that I no longer care about. You are just my bandmate. You are just a coworker, I don’t think of you. I’m done with you. Keep your album. Good luck.”

He was so fucked. It would be a miracle if he ever got her to forgive him.

#kildaresplit au #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks au #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron smau #sorry if you hate it #don't tell me if you do

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spacedikut · 4 years

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“i want to love someone and be loved” ; spencer reid - part 2

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: spencer decides it’s time to tell you, but he needs some help. 3887 words. part 1

a/n: THIS is the longest fic ive ever written but im actually kinda proud of how it turned out? i hope this is a good sequel :)

Spencer chickens out of telling you the next day.

He avoids you all weekend, actually. You resisted texting him the day after Rossi’s because you assumed he’d be busy – with his big plan involving a girl that isn’t you. You’re not bitter – but Sunday comes around and you message him not long after you wake up and six hours later there’s no response.

Twelve hours later - there’s no response.

Monday, you don’t have time to say hello to anyone – there’s a case waiting for you, somewhere in Florida.

Reid avoids your eyes. His body language tells you something is wrong, so you assume whoever he confessed to didn’t reciprocate (they’re insane) and he’s dealing with it. So you don’t press.

Spencer pretends to sleep the entire jet ride. He’s avoiding everyone, not just you.

He spent the whole weekend beating himself up. He drove to your apartment on Saturday, sat outside for so long a neighbour knocked on his window and asked if he was lost, but couldn’t bring himself to step foot out of his car.

So he locked himself in his room, away from you and your loveliness and away from his phone because he knew you texted him and he knew you’d send some soft message about being there for him if he needs anything and he didn’t need to be reminded of how beautiful and out of reach you are.

Derek seemed to be waiting for him Monday morning, arms crossed as he held a cup of coffee. It was weird seeing him in before Spencer.

“How’d it go?” He immediately asked.

“How’d what go?” Spencer mumbles, flinging his bag on the floor by his desk. He slumps in his seat.

Derek raises a dark eyebrow, “You know what, pretty boy. You had a big thing? Big plan?”

“Didn’t work out.”

It doesn’t take a profiler to realise Spencer is very clearly saying leave me alone. Leave it alone.

Derek isn’t one to leave it alone. Especially when it comes to Spencer.

He sighs and moves a little closer to Spencer’s desk, just in case someone overhears them.

“What happened?”

“That’s exactly it,” Spencer slams open a file, “Nothing happened.”

“And why did nothing happen?”

“Because I’m an idiot that can’t even tell a girl how I feel.”

“Whoa- hey!”

Derek spins Spencer’s chair so they’re face to face. Derek takes one look in Spencer’s eyes and knows what’s going on – he got too into his head and backed out at the last minute.

“You’re not an idiot. Why didn’t you do it?”

Spencer shrugs, “I got to her apartment. I had flowers, too. I don’t know.”

Derek’s evidently concerned – Spencer’s beaten up over this, over whoever this girl is, and he deserves the chance to experience love. Spencer deserves a lot more than he himself thinks he does.

“You seemed really excited, man. You can still do it. Just cause you try once and it doesn’t work out doesn’t mean you can’t ever try again.”

Spencer stares off into the distance, accidentally ignoring Derek as his thoughts slip out of his mouth, “Yeah, it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway – I was stupid to think I could get someone like her.”

“Hey, no.” Derek nudges Spencer’s shoulder so he looks at him again, “Don’t talk like that. You’re one hell of a guy, Reid. All you gotta do is get that confidence that you had Friday night back, and you’re all set. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Spencer gives a feeble nod. Derek moves back to his desk, knowing he isn’t convinced, but he isn’t done yet.

+++

Later, in Florida, Spencer’s making a coffee in the precinct’s kitchen after waiting twenty minutes for you to leave. Luck’s on his side, for once, and you’ve been working non-stop with Prentiss going crime scene to crime scene so he hasn’t had to actively avoid you. You smile at him every chance you get, though, and it distracts him.

Someone clears their throat behind him. It’s Penelope, whom Spencer didn’t realise was invited on this case.

She looks guilty. Spencer recognises that face; the face she has when she’s done something she shouldn’t have or knows something she isn’t really supposed to. Given current circumstances, Spencer bets it’s the latter reason.

“Morgan told me something he shouldn’t have.”

Bingo.

He leans against the kitchen counter, stirring his coffee absentmindedly.

“What did he tell you?” He asks, feigning tranquillity. Inside he’s screaming non-stop.

She’s got her hands clasped together in front of her, almost innocently, and fiddles with her fingers, “He told me you needed assistance in the love department.” Before he can object, she continues, “And I am willing to do anything if it means our resident weirdo-slash-genius falls in love and gets to experience some much needed cuteness.”

There’s no point in lying to her. There’s also no point in being mad that Morgan told her about his situation – they’re kind of a package deal. And, who knows, Garcia might be able to help.

“So…” She sways, trying (and failing) to appear nonchalant, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Spencer shuffles on the spot, scuffing his shoes against the floor. He debates whether he should tell her, since, you know, you’re in the next room over, but Spencer worries that Garcia is so good at her job she’d somehow find out through hacking Spencer’s phone, or maybe somehow hacking his dreams. His subconscious. He’s terrified of Garcia and her abilities.

“You can tell me.” She insists, “I’m much better at keeping secrets than Morgan.”

Spencer turns away from her, she steps closer, and he mumbles your name.

“What?”

“Y/N.”

“WHAT?!”

Spencer spins, hands coming up to tell Garcia to shut up and Garcia immediately covers her mouth in both shock and hopefully so she doesn’t shout again.

“Since when?!” She screeches. “How could I not have known?! Oh God, almighty Doctor Reid, I feel like I’ve failed you by not realising earlier.”

Her enthusiasm makes him smile, for the first time in far too long. Garcia has that power – this innate skill to comfort those around her and make them feel special, make them smile when the world feels like its collapsing.

“Let me help!” She requests.

Spencer’s clearly hesitant. He knows it’s a bad idea.

“Please!” She begs, “I just- I have so many ideas of how you can go about this. Let me brainstorm, get back to you, and if I’m too over-the-top you can tell me no and we’ll pretend it never happened!”

He takes a deep breath. Yes, Garcia is the definition of over-the-top, but that’s one of his favourite things about her. It’s your favourite thing, too. And he did tell Morgan he had big plans. Anything involving Garcia is a big plan with big payoff.

“This is between us.”

“I’ll take it to the grave. Unless you realise how amazing my ideas are and use one to tell Y/N how you feel and then years later I get to commend myself during my maid of honour speech at your wedding.”

She looks ecstatic, hands now together under her jaw as her eyes twinkle. Spencer can’t help but laugh at her eagerness.

+++

The next day, the team returns to Quantico after a semi-successful case. The general mood is good and Morgan invites everyone out for drinks – Spencer declines, but you have your first full conversation since last Friday.

“C’mon, Spence,” Your head rests against the jet seat and you blink sleepily at him, “I feel like I haven’t spoken to you for years!”

Spencer gives you a small smile, “I promised my mom I’d call her tonight. Sorry, Y/N.”

You nod in understanding, “Will you tell her I say hi?”

“Of course. She loves you.”

You grin at eachother, immediately lost in your own world. You’ve missed him more than you realised, and you have no idea what’s going through his head, but you’re happy that you’ve had this – a Spencer Reid smile that makes you feel at home and on top of the world simultaneously.

Spencer has to tear his eyes away before he blurts something stupid, like she’s not the only one that loves you.

+++

“Spencer!” Garcia greets, Cheshire cat grin on her face. “I need to see you in my dungeon, please. Immediately.”

Spencer drops the file he’s holding. Unfortunately, Penelope’s request caught the attention of the whole team.

“What business do you have in the villain’s lair, Reid?” Derek asks. You’ve looked up from your computer, Emily smirking and leaning back in her chair in expectation.

“Uh…”

“Important nerd business. Go away.” Garcia says, eyes narrow as she tugs Spencer’s hand. He’s whisked away from any further questioning, leaving the befuddled team behind.

He isn’t sure what to expect when he stumbles into Penelope’s second home, but the display in front of him explains why he overheard a conversation about missing evidence boards earlier. Penelope’s obviously been using the new printer in her cave to her advantage – there’s at least twenty different pictures printed out on one board titled “date ideas”, then the board on the right has a picture of Spencer and you in the centre with a perfectly drawn heart around it. Under and around that is a mixture of love quotes, including song lyrics and quotes directly from romantic movies. He notices “The Parliament of Fowls” on there – Garcia remembers that he mentioned it’s considered the first Valentines poem?

“Whoa,” Is all he can say.

“I know it’s a little intense,” Garcia squirms, “But! I started scrolling through Pinterest and couldn’t stop. I don’t know what came over me, maybe some type of love deity, but I started thinking about you and Y/N in a classic love film in, like, black and white and I…”

She’s out of breath from animatedly explaining.

Spencer laughs through his nose, almost a scoff, but he’s impressed. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the Penelope Garcia.

As Spencer wanders towards the first board, Garcia follows him like a shadow, “My personal favourite is-“ She points to a picture of chocolate fondue with faceless people in very little clothing, “-this one.”

Spencer awkwardly clears his throat when he begins to think of you and him like that.

“A little much for your declaration of love, though, I get it,” Garcia nods.

He scans the board – heart speeding up when he moves from idea to idea and picturing you and him in each one. He can’t help but think no, that one would be good for our anniversary – ah, she’d love to do that one for her birthday.

“What’re you thinking?” Garcia asks quietly. She knows his brain is whirring like her computer drive, so she approaches him gently.

“This one.” He says. “Where should we do it?”

Garcia grins behind him. The one he’s referring to shows a dinner table set up outside, brown wooded table with white wooden chairs opposite eachother. There’s flowers at the centre, a bottle of wine already poured in each glass in front of a basket of cookies, and the area around is shrouded by shrubbery, fairy lights hanging delicately from every-which-way.

It’s perfect. You love fairy lights, Spencer loves cookies, and the set-up looks private enough for Spencer to feel confident when he empties his heart and soul to you.

“The roof.” Garcia says wistfully.

“We have access to that?”

“Yes.” They both know they don’t. “Leave it to me. Oh… one more thing.” She adds, hesitantly, “Can Morgan help? I’m a lot of things, including emotionally strong and your love guru, but physically I’m gonna need some assistance.”

Spencer doesn’t even need to agree – Morgan’s gonna involve himself no matter what.

+++

Five o’clock is quickly approaching and you’re slumped over your desk, lost in your work. You need to be lost in it, because ever since Garcia released Spencer from her office right after lunch he’s been sneaking glances at you (he’s not sneaky) and has made several attempts to approach you but decided against it, sharply turning and pretending he meant to go another way instead.

You are beyond confused. You assume it’s to do with the girl he’s been trying to get over – you hope he’s been trying to build the confidence to tell you exactly what happened and maybe, you really hope, he’ll invite you over for the weekend so you can slip back into your old routine.

“Psst.”

You assume they’re not trying to get your attention, so you don’t move.

“Psst!”

You still don’t move.

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up to Spencer leaning over the divider between your desks. He looks alarmed – which is odd, given he’s the one who called you – and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally speaks.

“Are you busy tonight?” He sits back and, if he wasn’t so goddamn tall, all you’d be able to see would be his eyes. His added height means you can see his eyes and his nose. You wanna kiss it.

You smile – this is an olive branch, “I am completely available for whatever it is you might need.”

You sound incredibly eager, which you are. You miss him.

His cheeks move upwards, a smile, “Can I talk to you, later, on the roof? Uh-“ He clears his throat, “-I need to tell you something.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You’re not gonna push me off, right?”

“No,” He laughs.

“Promise me.”

Now he guffaws, “I would never, Y/N!”

“Promise me, Reid!”

“Alright, alright! I promise!” He’s jokingly raising his hands in a form of surrender.

You give him another smile and turn back to your work. You feel at ease, now, thinking he’s finally gonna tell you what happened on the weekend – finally you’ll be able to help him and go back to normal.

Spencer, on the other hand, is the exact opposite of ease. He’s about to pour his heart out to you.

He takes a deep breath and looks back to his computer, which is open on a tab titled “How to Tell Someone You Like Them.”

Step 3: Be Confident.

Spencer opens a new tab and searches, “How to be confident.”

+++

Garcia hacks into Spencer’s computer to open a document and type that the roof is ready. She wishes him luck, tells him she loves him, and calls dibs on being the godmother of your future children. As if she doesn’t have enough godchildren as it is.

He clears his throat and your head snaps towards him. You’ve been done for a while, playing Tetris on your phone, waiting for Spencer to take you to the roof where he swears he won’t kill you – you’re not entirely convinced.

“Um-“ He scratches his neck, “You ready to go?”

You nod and give him a weak smile in hopes it gives him some type of reassurance.

“Whatever happened, it’s okay, Spence.”

All he does is nod in return, gathering his coat and bag. He doesn’t really register what you say, or he would’ve been very confused.

You follow him up to the roof. The elevator ride is silent and Spencer is jittery; his hands twitch and tap against his legs, he’s bouncing on his toes and he keeps looking at you through the corner of his eye. You’ve taken several deep breaths to calm your racing heart – you hate heights, and this is the closest you’ve been to Spencer in a week. This will be the longest conversation you’ve had with him in a week, too.

The second the doors open, Spencer leaps in front of you.

“Wait!”

You jump back in surprise, “What? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Completely fine. Just… when we get there, let me explain first, okay? Before you say anything.” He’s pleading, as if you’ve already told him no. You look at him with furrowed brows and mumble an ‘okay’.

You’re visibly confused as you trek up the flight of stairs to the roof. Spencer pushes open the fire door and the first thing you notice is how bright the roof is – you always assumed it’d be dark, little light, especially at night like this.

Wait.

There’s fairy lights… everywhere. You’re pretty sure this isn’t the norm for the FBI roof.

Spencer is equally as awed at what he sees before him - it’s exactly the photo he saw in Garcia’s cave brought to life, but he’s too distracted by you to fully appreciate it. You look like a child on Christmas; eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly agape. You’re gorgeous.

“What…is this, Spence?” You wonder, noticing the set table, fingers grazing the roses that sit in a vase in the middle. They’re fresh and smell wonderful.

He stands a little behind you, fiddling with his hands, and clears his throat, “Would you like to take a seat?”

You do. When he finally sits, he pours you a glass of wine and you immediately take an anxious sip. Although Rossi is a big fan of wine, you rarely take interest in it only when Spencer’s involved. You’ve come to associate wine with him – a smile peeks out from your glass as you stare at the man opposite you.

“I need to get something off my chest. But there’s cookies, if you want one,” He picks one up from his plate, breaking it in half and giving it to you. He’s stalling, but you seem to take the bait and bite into it.

“Are these from the bakery two blocks away?”

“Yeah,” He replies, but he isn’t really paying attention. He doesn’t know where to begin.

You wait patiently for him to open up. You’re still unsure of what to make of all of this – the beautiful setting, the wine, the flowers, the lights. God, the lights are dazzling in the Virginia night sky. You need context, and you need it now.

“Spence-“

“Listen.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I just…” He trails off, “I need to say what I need to say before I back out again.”

You fold your hands in your lap. You’re ready for whatever’s to come.

“Do you know how long we’ve known eachother?” He asks. His head tilts like a puppy.

“Nearly five years. Our friendaversary is coming up, you know.”

You realise, then, that this must be a celebration for that – that explains the… typically romantic setting. Before you can open your mouth to ask if that what’s this is, Spencer speaks.

“Four years, three-hundred and sixty days. That’s how long we’ve known eachother.”

“If we were dating, we would’ve been my longest relationship the second we passed a year.”

You don’t know why you said it, but it flusters him. He has to pause to take a breath and collect his thoughts.

“I’ve been in love with you for four years and three hundred and fifty-eight days, Y/N.”

It’s silent as you process and he figures out how to continue.

“I knew you were special when you were introduced to us. Hotch already had such a soft spot for you, and you had this way about you that made us all fall in love instantly. I remember Garcia did a background check the second she found out your name and she said you remind her of me and I… that freaked me out, to be honest. I thought you’d try to replace me.” He huffs a laugh, but can’t bring himself to look you in the eye, “I realised I was in love with you when you drunkenly defended me. Do you remember that?” His eyes flicker to yours for half a second – you’re wide-eyed, “You’d known me for two days at that point, but we’d already done a case together so we were celebrating. And these guys at the bar were whispering about me, acting like I couldn’t hear them, and the second you realised what was happening you stood up, stormed towards them and gave them a piece of your mind. It was incredible.

“You barely knew me, at least personally, but you thought so highly of me you scolded a group of drunk bodybuilders without a second thought. You made them apologise – it was hysterical watching someone half their size force them into submission like that – and when you were done you asked if I wanted to leave and go get ice cream. We couldn’t, cause you vomited on the way there, but I knew in that moment I loved you and I feel so hard, so quickly, I didn’t know what to do. And you never… you never indicated you thought of me as anything other than a friend so I didn’t try. Then you dated Greg who, in my opinion, sucked on his best days, and you encouraged me to date Abigail and I…”

He’s run out of breath and of things to say.

“I just love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.” He adds, “I hope that’s okay.”

He finally looks at you, then. You’re just staring and he panics when he can’t make out what you’re feeling. He’s always been able to read you, you’ve always hated the saying that eyes are the windows to the soul because your eyes are always your tell, but now they’re… glassy.

You’re crying.

“Spencer…” You gasp, throat tight.

“It’s okay.” Spencer gives a tight-lipped smile. He knows what’s coming. He should’ve expected it. He has been expecting it.

“I love you too, Spence.”

Spencer chokes on air. He takes a gulp of wine.

You give him a teary smile in disbelief, “I’ve always loved you, Spence. I thought you knew that – I thought that big brain of yours knew exactly how I felt and… you didn’t do anything about it so I thought you didn’t feel the same. Spencer…”

He slowly moves a hand to place it palm-up on the table. Immediately you place your hand in his, your grip tight as you lovingly stare at him. This feels unreal.

“I’m in love with you too, you idiot.” You half laugh, half cry, “If you’ve really loved me this long, we’ve wasted so much time! God, we’re both idiots.”

Spencer’s crying too, now, and he starts laughing with you.

You’re two idiots in love, sitting opposite eachother on the roof of your place of work in a dream-like surrounding filled with fairy lights and flowers, and you could’ve been doing this for years.

Spencer sniffles, looking at you through his wet eyelashes, “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“If I say yes, will I get more dates like this?” You tease.

“Well, Garcia has a whole evidence board of date ideas she stole from Pinterest. We have enough ideas to last a lifetime.” He giggles.

“Penny was in on this?!”

Spencer gives a heh, “This is all thanks to her, so yeah.”

“She’s always had our backs.”

“She’s also now going to be convinced she’s cupid.”

You laugh again, and can’t help yourself when you lean across the table, still gripping Spencer’s hand, and letting your lips fall on his. Spencer leans into you, lips moving against yours as you both try to suppress grins.

You pull back slightly, Spencer’s lips following you, and whisper, “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

He kisses you again. And again. And again, just cause he can.

Big plan, big payoff. You’re worth every little stress and more.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #garcia is watching everything through the security cameras btw #you think she'd do all this and NOT watch her hard work flourish?#think AGAIN

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jasonbehrs · 3 years

Text

i wanna read every word, chapter 3 + epilogue

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you’ve never met?” “Uh, do you mean like we’ve-been-doing-long-distance-slash-online-dating or like I’ve-been-crushing-on-the-cute-barista-at-the-library-cafe?” “Ummm, more like I’ve-read-their-poems-and-sure-they’re-very-talented-but-their-handwriting-alone-makes-me-smile.” “… That’s oddly specific.”

fandom: kpop, super junior characters: eunhyuk, ryeowook; guest appearances by the rest of sj-m and yesung ship: eunwook genre: romantic comedy themes: alternate endings, strangers to lovers, handwriting, identity reveal setting: college chapter: 3+4/4 word count: 5.8k

read it below or on ffnet, aff, wattpad

~~~

He and Ryeowook haven't hung out alone before, but he's sure this won't be awkward. Their only real link may have just been Yesung, but Hyukjae likes to think he successfully ingrained himself into that entire friend group in time. He tells himself that he and Ryeowook would have had a solo hangout at some point. Ryeowook's crush situation just expedited it.

They had agreed to meet at the quad but didn't specify anything beyond that, so Hyukjae chooses a bench with high visibility so that Ryeowook could find him easily. He crosses his legs and balances a laptop over one knee and a notebook over the other, figuring he could get some work in while waiting.

Not long after, the other plops himself right next to him and pulls out his own work without even saying hi.

Hyukjae keeps his face down as he smiles to himself. So Ryeowook's feeling just as apprehensive about this as he is.

Something about that realisation makes him brave enough to break the ice. "Ah, my favourite person under 5'2". How do you do?" he snarks without pausing his typing.

In response, Ryeowook uses a single finger to tip Hyukjae's notebook onto the ground without remorse.

"Okay, I deserved that," Hyukjae admits with a chuckle as he bends to pick the notebook off the ground and put it away. "So… did you bring one of the love notes?" he asks once it's apparent they didn't really have anything else yet to talk about aside from that.

"Of course!" Ryeowook rummages through his bag and pulls out what Hyukjae can only presume is the poem scrapbook he's heard the others talk about.

"Um, is there a problem?" Hyukjae asks as he eyes how Ryeowook holds the book to his chest with both hands, making no move to hand it over.

After a long moment, Ryeowook looks at him with hard eyes and a blush on his cheek. "You have to promise me you'll be careful with it. Like, if you want to look at one more closely, then tell me, and I'll take it out for you. Actually, you'll have to clean your hands first, too; I'm worried about oils. I'm pretty sure I have wet cloths somewhere in this bag…"

Hyukjae has heard the others call the scrapbook "a little extra." He privately agrees, but seeing the way Ryeowook is so protective over the thing makes him think perhaps Ryeowook himself is, in fact, a lot of extra.

He wisely leaves those thoughts unvoiced and instead motions for Ryeowook to hurry up. The other hesitantly hands over the book, and Hyukjae makes a big show of settling it calmly on his lap.

It would have been funnier if Ryeowook hadn't legitimately sighed with relief at his action.

Hyukjae lets it go; and with more interest than he expected from himself, he opens to the first page.

"Where did you get these?!" he yelps before he could help it.

"What? Why are you yelling? What!?"

Hyukjae can only distantly hear the other, however, as he is far more preoccupied with the absolute whiplash of recognising his own handwriting in the scrapbook. Page after page is filled with his rejected songwriting assignments, now forever immortalised thanks to Ryeowook's tender care.

Ryeowook flicks him in the forehead, and he struggles to collect himself. "Um, I mean. Um. Wow! This looks like an impressive collection," he stutters out awkwardly. "And, uh, actually! I don't think you ever told me the whole story?" he blabbers, knowing full well he actually has heard the whole story but needing to redirect Ryeowook's attention towards anything other than him right now.

So he sits there and lets Ryeowook gush over Poem Person, identifying that he is slightly uncomfortable with the knowledge that said person is actually him.

Sassy, doting, health-nut Ryeowook is wistfully waxing poetic over him, over his words, over his handwriting (a concept so baffling he actually has to stifle a chuckle in real life lest he hint to Ryeowook he is not actually paying attention).

He nods absentmindedly and offers encouraging smiles at what he hopes at the right places, but his mind is more concerned with figuring out: What the fuck is he gonna do?

~I think I must be broken somewhere. Since when did I start not welcoming even myself?~

The answer, apparently, is string Ryeowook along.

Ryeowook may have initially been hesitant about getting Hyukjae's help; but now that he has it, he has bolstered his efforts to track down and meet Poem Person. Hyukjae is astounded at his forward and creative ideas, stuff like signing up to audit the class one day or even straight up coveringthe chair in chalk so that he could easily spot the person walking around campus.

"Honestly, I need a sidekick, someone to help me pull these things off," Ryeowook explains one day while they're brainstorming over lunch.

Well, Ryeowook's brainstorming.

"I'm also kinda hoping you'll be close enough to the student to act like a wingman when we finally do meet. First impressions are everything, you know."

Hyukjae, for his part, is busy trying to maintain his poker face.

He didn't come clean to Ryeowook in the quad that day because he didn't want the awkwardness. Hyukjae was not mentally ready to hear that his brand new friend had been harbouring a crush on and had been engaging in borderline-stalker behaviour over little ol' him, and he suspects Ryeowook wouldn't have taken the news very well in the moment either.

Now though, he's just trying to maintain the status quo.

It's no secret that Ryeowook had built up an idea of what Poem Person is like in his head. What's the harm in letting him have a little crush on a figment of his imagination?

So yes, he continues to plot with Ryeowook, he continues to bother Donghae by tossing scrap assignments at him in class, he continues the whole ruse.

The harm, as Hyukjae is quick to discover, is that he grossly miscalculated the effect the lie would have on him.

It starts with a text.

Are we still on for tomorrow at 2?

yep. the student union still good?

Yep, see ya there

"Who are you texting?" Siwon asks as he plops beside Hyukjae on their apartment couch, his attention mostly trained on his own phone.

"Huh? Oh, just Ryeowook. I told you about him; I'm helping him meet this guy he has a crush on."

Siwon raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up from his phone. "Oh? You were smiling at that phone like someone agreed to go on a date with you."

Hyukjae stiffens. "I was not."

That makes Siwon look up. Hyukjae valiantly meets his gaze, but he breaks eye contact just a moment later.

"... Right."

Curiously, fear follows shortly after.

Hyukjae doesn't even notice it at first. It was too subtle compared to the overwhelming confidence he gets from being around Ryeowook. With the way the other talks about him, to him, without knowing it's him… it's a heady feeling. (Case in point: The day before a modern dance midterm, Ryeowook texted him a photo of a recent Hyukjae original along with a copious amount of heart-eye emojis, and Hyukjae felt so energised that his professor pulled him to the side after his performance and concernedly asked him point-blank if he had started taking steroids.)

Ryeowook doesn't just see the best in him. He guesses at Hyukjae's flaws and turns them into superpowers. He paints an image of Hyukjae in colours that he wasn't even aware existed. It's an instant ego boost.

It isn't long, however, until Hyukjae stops hearing musings and starts hearing expectations. Ryeowook believes in a vibrant, exciting, romantic persona; someone smart and adventurous who can enable him to be as silly as he has the potential to be.

Since when was Hyukjae any of those things?

He isn't afraid of Ryeowook's wrath when the jig is eventually up, no. Wrath he could handle; wrath he deserves. Instead, he is afraid of the disappointment, the unimpressed "Oh." that Ryeowook couldn't help but let slip once he processes the truth. Hyukjae wouldn't be able to handle seeing the light in Ryeowook's eyes—the light that used to be reserved for him even if the other didn't know it—dim.

And finally comes realisation.

"Don't you think you're being a little unfair?" Hyukjae asks him one evening. They got to-go meals from the dining hall and moved as far west as they could without leaving the campus entirely. The sun is due to set any minute now, and they wanted the best seats possible.

"What do you mean?" Ryeowook asks with furrowed brows still trained on the skyline.

"You've spent so much time thinking about this guy, analysing his mood and habits and whatever. You'll meet him for the first time, but it won't really be the first time for you, you know? You'll know all this stuff about him already whereas you're a complete stranger to him. That's gotta be, like, a power imbalance or something, right? That's not fair to either of you. You've mentioned before that you don't necessarily want to date Poem Person, but that's not even a good basis for being friends with him."

Ryeowook glances at him from the corner of his eye and smirks. "If Mi were here, he'd have a lot to say right now."

Hyukjae chuckles as he lets the other change the subject. "He'd actually have only one thing to say, and I don't want to hear it."

Ryeowook hums but doesn't say anything else, attention still mostly on the sun's slow descent to the horizon. Hyukjae would have liked an answer, but he gets it. He just sprung all that on the other without any preamble, and Ryeowook probably needs time to think. Hyukjae isn't entirely sure what he wanted to hear anyway.

Ryeowook doesn't speak again until the sky finally begins to bleed red, a threatening promise for the end of the day. "You have a point, of course. I'll constantly be comparing the person he is to the person I made him out to be, even when I don't mean to, but… Something tells me that won't matter as much in the long run." He chuckles, low and with disbelief. "I couldn't tell you why; but I feel like even if I told him the whole story, even if the first things I ever say to him are the questionable antics I've engaged in just to meet him, he wouldn't run away."

And he would be right, of course. Look at where Hyukjae is now.

"You're thinking too highly of him," Hyukjae says. He means it as a way to distract from the mortifying ordeal of being known, but it comes out bitter without his permission.

Ryeowook smirks. "Is that what this is about? Are you jealous? Ooooh, are you lonely?" he teases. "Don't worry, I pay back my debts. Just tell me as soon as someone catches your attention. I can't promise forever, but I can promise a first date, for sure." He winks.

There is a long moment between when the sky finally turns black and when the streetlights flicker to life, one conveniently spotlighting the pair with its glow. It mocks Hyukjae with its inevitability.

~This night blesses the day we meet. The moon is open in the sky, and the stars smile.~

"Hyung, I'm bored."

"Okay."

"Entertain me."

"In a minute, I'm reading something for class."

"What's it about?"

"The cultural impact of Black youth on the interfaces of music and body expression in early 1970s New York City."

He appreciates Ryeowook's offer to swing by and keep him company while he studies in one of the many lounges strewn about academic campus, but he'd appreciate it a lot more if Ryeowook would actually let him study.

Ryeowook blinks. "I understood all of those words individually."

Hyukjae drags a hand down his tired face. "I'm basically in the same boat, so please? I'll do whatever you wanna do as long as I can make it to the third page of this article today. I really need to participate in tomorrow's seminar or else I'll have to take a make-up quiz."

"Fiiine," Ryeowook whines, but he thankfully starts scrolling through his phone in silence.

After a few minutes of quality reading, Hyukjae hears Ryeowook rummaging around, so he languidly raises his eyes to see how the other is choosing to preoccupy himself.

He shoots up out of his seat, barely taking the time to set his laptop down properly in his haste. "What are you doing with that!"

Ryeowook looks up from where he is crouched besides Hyukjae's open bookbag, holding a notebook in his hand. "Oh, did you need this?"

"For what? No. What?" Hyukjae spouts in rapid fire, thrown-off by how Ryeowook responded to his question with one of his own.

Ryeowook's eyes light up. "Excellent! I thought you needed this for your homework," he comments as he lets himself fall backwards onto his butt. "I was just gonna read your handwriting while I waited. I can't believe I never thought to check yours out before. I've basically gone through everyone else's in the friend group."

Hyukjae could kick himself for letting such a good excuse slip right out of his hands, but the room seems to have gone in slow motion as Ryeowook proceeds to open up the notebook to a random page. Like a man possessed, Hyukjae dives straight for Ryeowook's lap, successfully knocking the notebook out of the other's grasp in the process.

…

"Hi," he says over his shoulder when the silence has gone on for too long. Ryeowook raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Hyukjae chuckles awkwardly while he manoeuvers himself out of Ryeowook's lap with as much grace as a baby deer on ice. He quickly snatches up his notebook while Ryeowook is still prone and simply observing his movements, and then he doesn't know what to do next.

Ryeowook takes over from here, standing up calmly and striding right into Hyukjae's personal space. Despite having several centimetres on the other, Hyukjae cannot help but feel small under the other's assessing gaze. "There is clearly something in that notebook you don't want me to see."

Hyukjae eyes the room, trying to calculate his odds. "Yes," he hesitantly confirms.

Ryeowook narrows his eyes. "Is it about me?" he asks with an edge to his voice.

"No." The half-truth comes out much quicker, thankfully.

Ryeowook purses his lips then nods. He takes two steps back, and Hyukjae almost does something silly like reach for his waist to keep him nearby. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to let you finish your homework without intruding on your privacy. In return, you'll buy me boba and bring me a notebook I can read the next time we meet."

Hyukjae sighs with relief and readily agrees to those terms.

A few days later, he confidently hands over Siwon's old notebook from their shared Psych 101 class and a medium taro boba.

Ryeowook opens up to the first page then laughs in Hyukjae's face, high and bright. "This is your notebook?" he manages to ask through his cackles. "No wonder you didn't want me seeing it. You must have known I was going to make fun of you."

"Why? Why?" Hyukjae demands, affronted. It may not have been his handwriting, but still.

"It's like your handwriting is Jekyll, and you're Hyde. I look at this, and I don't see you at all."

Hyukjae looks over Ryeowook's shoulder to see what he's working with, and he can't help but agree. Siwon's handwriting is neat, consistent, and in perfect lines straight across the page. Rich kids and their calligraphy classes, dammit.

Nevertheless, he tries to salvage the situation. "Come on, you know I'm a neat person."

Ryeowook snorts, but he nods his head in agreement. "That may be true; but if someone had to write a list of things about you, 'neat' wouldn't even make it in the top 50."

"Can you think of 50 things about me?" Hyukjae teases as he slinks back around to Ryeowook's front, effortlessly plucking the notebook out of the other's hands in the process.

Ryeowook crosses his newly freed arms in front of his chest and smirks. "Yep. 1 would be that you're a brat, and 50 would be that your feet smell."

"Yah! My shoes don't breathe!" Hyukjae whines. "I want 50 nice things," he continues above Ryeowook's snickers.

"Oof, that'll be tough. How about just 5, and you get to pick what movie we watch next?" Ryeowook haggles.

Hyukjae rolls his eyes but agrees. He'll take what he can get.

"1: You're not half-bad at impressions. 2: You like strawberry and chocolate, but only as separate flavours," Ryeowook starts, counting off on his fingers as he goes. "3: You're great at charades. 4: Everybody likes you because 5: you know exactly what to be, do, or say when the situation calls for it. You're not just flexible as a dancer, but as a person, and it's the best thing about you."

Hyukjae doesn't fight the toothy grin that stretches wide across his face. "You think so?"

Ryeowook nods very seriously, but there is an undeniable glimmer in his eyes. "Absolutely. With a lack of other suitable candidates, it's your best quality by default."

~I don't know why you keep staying with me. I lack so much for you, and I'm sorry about that.~

It would be easier to stop being in love with Ryeowook if the other didn't actually seem to value his company and insights.

There are days when they've hung out and talked about anything and everything but the song lyrics, when Ryeowook will bake Hyukjae strawberry scones and give him meaningful feedback on his choreography. They're both witty but in different ways, so they're always cracking up; and in those moments, he can't help but imagine he's already told the truth, that Ryeowook has already accepted him, and that this is what they could look like together.

But then he looks into Ryeowook's eyes and the warmth he sees there burns at a different temperature than the warmth he feels, and Hyukjae is painfully reminded that is not the case.

He can only take so much.

Despite knowing in his gut that it's the absolute wrong call to make, Hyukjae retreats. Stuck between yearning for Ryeowook yet fearing facing him and being frustrated with himself for equivocating on what to do, it's easier to just not do anything at all. He cancels more, begs off group hangouts, throws himself into his dance rehearsals. He even attempts going to the gym once just to keep his mind occupied and off of the problem.

Honestly, life could get better.

As he presses 'ignore' on the nth call he's received from Ryeowook that week, he offhandedly notices that blowing the other off feels way worse than lying in the first place. Let's see him spin that into a positive.

Hyukjae's doing great on his passive, brooding agenda until a few weeks later when he accidentally looks up from where he was perusing just as Henry enters the music library. By virtue of the youngest's classical performance degree, the two of them share the most colleagues and classes of any pair in the group.

He is honestly lucky it took so long.

He offers a stiff nod in acknowledgement and hopes that that's that, but Henry wanders over to his aisle with too much nonchalance to have not been intentional.

He doesn't leave Hyukjae in suspense for too long. "Ryeowook-hyung won't stop baking, you know."

"Huh?" Hyukjae asks dumbly, thrown completely off-guard from the unexpected comment.

"Seriously, he won't stop. You could get drunk off the stench of vanilla extract permanently in the air of the apartment."

Hyukjae realises with regret that he's never had a good opportunity to hang with the group at Ryeowook and Mi's apartment. "Oh. That's good, I guess."

"It would be better if we were allowed to eat any of it," Henry says, flicking through the records in front of him. Hyukjae almost believes it's a fake, idle action, but sometimes Henry nods and writes something down on his phone after inspecting an album.

"Yeah, it would be," Hyukjae offers at last for lack of anything better to say. Despite the stilted and tense atmosphere, he feels compelled to continue the conversation.

Henry nods again, but Hyukjae could tell that's for him. "I think he's saving it for someone that he expects to come by, but who else would come aside from any of us, you know?"

It is unclear if Henry includes Hyukjae in that 'us,' but Hyukjae doesn't dwell on it. Something much more pressing is on his mind. "What kind of stuff is he baking?" he asks, very afraid of the answer.

"He's been experimenting. Caramel chip cookies, cinnamon-lemon cupcakes, strawberry scones… But you know him. It's all low-fat, protein-enhanced flour shit; pretty sure he'd get kicked out of the nutrition program if it weren't," Henry says with a chuckle, but Hyukjae can't bring himself to laugh along.

Those all sound perfectly delicious, and something worse than vanity tells him that that's on purpose. The thought fills Hyukjae with so much more guilt that tears press against his eyes.

"Um, t-thanks, but I gotta—I gotta go," he stutters out through unmoving lips. What it is he's thanking Henry for, he has no clue; but he's far more preoccupied with exiting stage left from this scene as soon as humanly possible. "It was good to see you again," he adds as a reflex, already two steps further down but still facing Henry.

Henry raises his head from the jewel cases just as Hyukjae reaches the end of the aisle, and the slight smile he gives is so loaded with patronisation, pity, and perception that Hyukjae turns on his heel and runs.

~Longing is a beautiful pain I thought I could endure.~

After a whole class of not paying attention to a single minute—instead, wondering if maybe he should just get out with it, all of it: the deception, his feelings—Hyukjae leaves to find Ryeowook waiting right outside the door for him to exit.

"You don't normally get up this early," he comments in surprise, walking up to the other before he could help himself.

Ryeowook shrugs. "Well, I needed to talk to you, and I realised I didn't know enough about you. I don't know where you live, where you normally like to hang out; all I knew for sure is that you had class in this room at this time, so… Anyway, can we talk?"

Hyukjae's immediate instinct is to come up with an excuse, any excuse—he spent a whole class thinking about what he would do next time he faced Ryeowook but still hadn't settled on an answer—but Ryeowook reads his hesitation for what it is and makes the decision for him.

"Actually, we're going to talk whether you want to or not! Starting with: why have you been avoiding the group, avoiding me!" he yells. Hyukjae winces from Ryeowook's harsh words and high tone but can't bring himself to say or do anything more to stop the tirade. He's in no position to ask for leniency.

"I turned it over and over in my head, and I realised: I didn't even do anything! Are you mad at me because I didn't take enough time to get to know you? Are you tired of helping me? Why are you—you should have used your words and said something—whatever it was that was bothering you!—instead of just ignoring me like that!"

Hyukjae only notices that Ryeowook's volume and impassioned speech is attracting attention from other students and faculty in the hallway because he's avoiding the other's gaze, but he knows Ryeowook would be embarrassed about it later.

He hurriedly ushers them back inside Bomnal 235 despite Ryeowook's protests. The other angrily shrugs off Hyukjae's touch as soon as possible and stomps to the rear right quadrant of the room to sit, crossing his arms and legs in one fluid movement and pouting cutely.

Well, Hyukjae would think it was cute if he noticed it. His attention is instead captured by Ryeowook's choice of seating. If Ryeowook practiced the same seats code of conduct, then…

Without really thinking about it, he moves up and slides into his own seat, exactly behind Ryeowook's. He can tell the other is surprised he doesn't sit next to him, but Hyukjae focuses instead on the half-baked plan that formed in the time it took to ascend the stairs.

Ryeowook is petulantly turned towards the front, sure that he's said his piece already and waiting for Hyukjae to talk. Instead, he feels something light and crunchy hit the back of his head. "Yah!" he yelps, turning to glare at the offender, who is steadfastly scrawling something down on his notebook.

"You're doing it again. You're ignoring me instead of talking to me. If you're just gonna sit there and do homework, I'm gonna lea—YAH!" He's cut off by another bunched up piece of paper hurtling right for him, which he angrily swats away in mid-air. "What are you doing!?" he demands, but Hyukjae just throws another wad of paper at his desk instead, his aim perfectly allowing the paper to land right next to where Ryeowook's notebook would have been if he were in class... almost like he's done it dozens of times before.

Ryeowook frowns and picks up the most recent paper and smooths it open before gasping.

He would recognise this handwriting anywhere.

Unfolding my only crumpled wish You and I are in it

He quickly lifts his eyes back to Hyukjae, who refuses to meet his gaze even as he throws another wad of paper at Ryeowook's desk. Ryeowook picks up the first one that bounced off the back of his head and scrambles to find the second one which he had swatted away.

In this very short moment I'm just following my feelings

With trembling fingers, he finally opens the first one, which reads, "Didn't you say you'd recognise my handwriting anywhere?"

He looked up with cloudy eyes to see his desk slowly being overrun with scraps of paper and Hyukjae continuing to write on. Ryeowook slowly walks up to the paper pile and begins opening them one by one.

I'm sorry it turned out this way.

On each paper is a single sentence,

Honestly, I thought you were a lot of extra.

a confession, sometimes, or a timeline.

The sun set, that streetlight flicked on, and I knew it for sure.

As he reads the pages in no certain order,

You thought so highly of me, I was flattered and burdened all at once.

he literally pieces together Hyukjae's story,

What else was I supposed to do except throw them on his desk and annoy him?

from when he first realised the truth

It was so embarrassing to see all my rejected song lyrics immortalised forever by your hands.

to why he had avoided the other.

I didn't mean to hurt you, but I didn't want you to hurt me either.

As he continues reading, Ryeowook couldn't help but feel there is something missing, something that ties the whole narrative together. Alas, even after he finishes all the pieces on his desk, he couldn't figure out what.

Far past the point of anger and instead seeking to simply, finally understand, he looks to Hyukjae, who finally meets his gaze.

Without Hyukjae's constant scratching at his notebook paper, the classroom is loudly silent. He underhand tosses one final wad of paper to Ryeowook, and Ryeowook reads the intention in the action and catches it easily. He opens it up to read a final set of lyrics.

I still can't say the words Those words that make my voice run dry I love you more than anyone else

Ryeowook couldn't breathe. "You love me?" he asks with trembling lips, voice no louder than a whisper but reaching Hyukjae all the same.

Hyukjae slouches into his seat, hands outstretched and anxiously tapping his pen on the table. He keeps his head turned to the side when he nods. "I couldn't help it."

"And you lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Were you ever gonna tell me?'"

Hyukjae snaps into an upright position. "I wanted to!" He looks Ryeowook in the eye, trying to express as much sincerity as possible. "By god, I wanted to. But the way you talked about Poem Person… That's the guy you deserve. He wouldn't have led you on for weeks because he's a coward," he spits out.

"But he did."

"But he shouldn't have."

"But he's telling me now."

"But he wasted your time!"

"Why are you talking about yourself like that; he's you!"

"You didn't know that until five minutes ago!"

Ryeowook takes a moment, and Hyukjae forces himself to match the lowered state of tension that results. "It's not so hard to believe, now that I know the truth," the other says after a beat.

Hyukjae doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't. Ryeowook rolls his eyes. "You've heard me go on and on about your impulsiveness and emotional depth and whatever." He gestures to the pile of papers in front of him. "That's what this all seems like to me."

"I can't possibly have been what you expected, what you were hoping for," Hyukjae argues, trying to force the situation into a boiling point. He just laid himself bare in front of the person he's in love with, and none of his worst-case scenarios have come to fruition yet.

"I was hoping to meet the person with the lazy H's and the perpetually rose-coloured glasses, that's it," Ryeowook maintains calmly, but Hyukjae doesn't feel calm at all. He just keeps tapping, and Ryeowook sighs. "What I expected doesn't even matter. I knew there was a real person behind those notes, someone who came with all the complexities being a person entails. All my daydreams were just that; and even if every single one of them were wrong, and for some reason I couldn't handle that disappointment, that's on me. How I reacted to finally meeting you was not your responsibility."

"Are you?"

"What?"

Here it comes. "Are you disappointed?"

"Hyukjae."

The soft tone of Ryeowook's voice makes his heart clench, and Hyukjae shuts his eyes in self-preservation.

His anxiously tapping hand is stopped later by an equally soft touch, and he looks up in shock.

He hesitates to recognise the warmth he finds in Ryeowook's kind, earnest eyes. It's different from what he's seen before, but he doesn't want to categorise it any further than that. Has he imagined this temperature so much that it doesn't look out of place?

Ryeowook can see the moment Hyukjae focuses on him again, and he brings his other hand to squeeze both of Hyukjae's in turn.

"How could I be?" he asks, and he means it.

~I'll hold your two hands and confess, I pinky promise. Thank you for coming to me.~

EPILOGUE

Mi hums to himself as he turns the key to the lock of his apartment front door, arms laden with grocery bags…

… Which he allows to drop to the floor in shock as soon as he catches sight of the couple making out on the couch.

Ryeowook and Hyukjae break apart at the noise, heavily panting and cheeks flushed. Neither of them stop staring at him, and he cannot stop staring back.

Mi has so many thoughts running through his head, like Since when has that been a thing? and I can never sit on that couch again, but the one that comes out is, "What about Poem Person?"

If possible, Ryeowook and Hyukjae's cheeks flush even further, and Mi's incredulity slowly makes way for glee as he expects their response.

The caught pair turn to each other, communicating hurriedly through eye contact and muscle twitches alone before facing Mi again.

"Um, well, long story short…" Ryeowook begins.

"It was me," Hyukjae finishes.

Mi can't help it as he begins crying real, happy tears.

The gender has finally been confirmed.

~This happiness I noticed can be our starting point.~

~~~

A/N (6.14.2021): Wow, hasn't this been a ride! Eternal thanks everyone for reading and commenting; thanks Dorcas for your support; and thanks Amy for being my sanity check. If you hadn't already noticed, SJ lyrics were abound in the fic, whether in section breaks, narration, or dialogue! Were you able to recognise all of the songs? :D

Also, now that you've read the whole story, I'd love to know: Did you notice that neither Eunhyuk nor Ryeowook ever feel guilt for their brands of dishonesty? As written, do the chapters progress in such a way that it is sensible—maybe even natural—despite the lack of it?

If you did notice, did that impact your reading experience at all? If you didn't, does knowing now change anything? And ultimately, in a story whose crux is deception, is guilt necessary for redemption?

Share your thoughts in a review, comment, PM, DM, whatever!

#super junior #super junior fanfiction #ryeowook #eunwook #eunhyuk #jaso*#iwrew

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rayveewrites · 3 years

Text

So as a simultaneous end of the year/ completion of Golden Echoes/ launch of Buried Gold celebration, I thought it would be neat to go through every chapter and post my favourite line/phrase/sentence/paragraph/etc from each. Why? Is this a genuine celebration? Do I think I’m funny and laugh at my own jokes? Am I actually just procrastinating? Yes. (Very obviously spoilers for the entire fic.)

Prologue: Lost Darkness, pierced by the faint glow of sunlight through the holes in the ceiling. The sound of dripping water, pooling in the centre of the room.

Prologue: Found It remembered a time of life and colour, when it danced and played and sang, when children flocked around him and fed off its happiness and energy and gave him their own. Would it ever experience that again?

Prologue: Name Old, brittle bones grinded. Rusted metal sounded against the tiled floor. Colourless eyes softly glowed silver.

Returned ...whoever thought it was a good idea to create a horror attraction out of the actual murders of actual children needed to have their heads readjusted. Forcefully. With a mask full of crossbeams and wires.

Exploration ...servos and circuits, they had been at this location for an hour and Freddy was already having a terrible day. Also it was 10 AM. The location operated at night. Why.

Darkness So young, and left without a voice. I ask you now to make your choice. Clean the tiles of blood and tears? Or let them suffer with their fears?

Void He called up a memory, of turquoise eyes and golden fur, of whispers in the night that meant nothing and everything, of a feeling of happiness, that nothing would ever change, because the world was already perfect.

Balloons Of course this place has wonky physics.

JJ “So let me get this straight. A potentially dangerous supernatural rabbit wants me to take a cryptic message to a potentially dangerous animatronic rabbit, and then somehow convince the other potentially dangerous animatronic rabbit and his potentially dangerous animatronic friends that the first potentially dangerous animatronic rabbit is not, in fact, the definitely dangerous child-murdering serial killer who’s...somewhere else. Have I got all that?”

Rabbit Part of his mouth twitched, as if he was trying to make a facial expression, but couldn't.

Arcade The Void was not cooperating.

Parts Things had always seemed much brighter when they were two.

Guard Whatever came to one or the other's mind, in the breaks between people coming through and Sam playing creepy sounds over the speakers because 'a couple of teenagers are smooching on cam six, do they you realize I can see you, jesus christ, why are you even snogging in a horror attraction anyway, I really don't get the appeal, I swear to god-' or something along those lines, anyway.

Adventure Peace wasn't a feeling the ghost had had for a very long time.

Notes ...it had been a handful of wild yellow daisies a little girl had found, and he’d woven them into a ‘flower crown’ (actually more of a flower bracelet- the girl had picked as many as she could hold, but children had small hands) and put it on Fredbear’s hat when his partner wasn’t looking. Fredbear had promptly worn it all that night and the next day, daisies and all. Spring hadn’t been sure if he’d noticed or not, but either way, it had been very cute.

Cupcakes If the kid wanted a dinosaur, the kid should get a dinosaur, as far as he was concerned. Clothes were clothes. Why did people kick up such a stink about it sometimes?

Tapes “Uh, hello? Hello, hello! Uh, there’s been a slight change of company policy concerning use of the suits. Um, don’t.” “Oh gee,” JJ muttered, “imagine. It’s almost as if they were giant metal deathtraps.”

Talk ...she didn’t need to understand every aspect of Springtrap's life. That was Springtrap’s job, and he was apparently terrible at it.

Performance “It smells like something crawled in there and died.”

Gold Fredbear had been Springtrap’s heart and soul; as much as he loved the children and gave each performance his all, his real reason for living was in the bear who sang beside him. Springtrap remembered singing on stage, a guitar in his hands and love in his soul. He remembered stolen kisses in the night, waltzing on cool tiles with music nobody else could hear. He remembered stealing Fredbear’s hat dozens of times, running off wearing it and giggling like a small child himself. He remembered quiet nights, when the only sounds were his guitar and Fred’s soft humming, sometimes the same tune, sometimes not, but neither of them ever cared. He remembered curling up together, watching stars twinkle in the night sky beyond the walls of the little diner, and truly believing that the time they had together was infinite.

Stage He was holding something. He looked down, opened his hand and saw a gleaming purple microphone, accented with gold. It had been years, decades, since he had last seen it, but he recognized it. He knew what it meant. "Even after everything, I’m still with you."

[Note: this is also the chapter that contained Springtrap’s poem. I’m quite proud of that one, despite how much of a pain it was to write. So, honourable mention]

Notes [Note: wait, crud, there’s two chapters named Notes? I’m gonna have to change one of those later.]

Maybe she just needed to hit something.

Knife [Note: I forgot to actually title this one in AO3. Welp. Better fix that later]

It was slightly strange, a Freddy’s-related crime that was just… basic burglary. It was always the unusual crimes that happened- murder, manslaughter, OSHA violations (so many OSHA violations). But theft? That was new.

Shadows

They lapsed back into silence for a moment. “So, this place… is it real?” In a fashion. It was created from your memories of what is gone. “So… if Fredbear isn’t here…” He is unreachable. “Where?” I cannot tell you. “You don’t know, do you.” The Shadow-Bear was silent, telling Springtrap all he needed to know.

Puppet RWQ… Yes? Stop tormenting the rabbit. You’re no fun. Puppet? She hissed at the purple bear. Stop tormenting the rabbit. “And why would I listen to you?” Because, Shadow Freddy said as the Puppet was slowly levitated up into the air, all four limbs flailing, he’s needed. And also, you are being, as Springtrap so eloquently called RWQ earlier, an asshole.

Voice Specifically, it was more a mixture of blood, rotting flesh, and whatever other bodily fluids lingered in William Afton’s partially mummified decomposing head and was accessible via Springtrap’s mouth, without opening said mouth to the point where someone would notice said partially mummified decomposing head. [Or] Springtrap was displaying remarkable self-restraint. First, he hadn’t punched the Puppet in the face for threatening his friend’s life. Then, he hadn’t punched the Puppet in the face for implying he had a problem with the golden bear. Now, he wasn’t squeezing the life out of JJ in a hug.

Ghosts “No. The thing is, I’ve never had a name I felt truly fit before it. I can’t be Bonnie any more; the Classic model has taken that name, and he is welcome to have it. Spring Bonnie was the name the Man Behind the Slaughter used; I never truly referred to myself with it. Some employees called me Golden Bonnie, to fit with the whispers of a Golden Freddy, but that was never truly a name either, although I suppose I could have gotten used to it eventually. But Springtrap? It lets me keep my past, and it lets me have a future. Sure, it’s a little odd, but I don’t mind. I kind of like it. It’s unique.”

Humans Oh, Spring has a key. That explains where the spare went! When did he get that? Jake’s been looking for it for ages. Not that it’s my business. He says he technically works here, so it’s not stealing. Cheeky. He’s right though.

Henry “I’m not sure whether I should be pissed about the weird way he’s been constructed, or impressed he hasn’t collapsed yet. What the hell is holding him togeth- wait what the hell is that.” Springtrap winced. He knew he should’ve warned them beforehand, but he still tended to hide the rotting corpse. It was instinctive, a sort of habit- born from the fear he would be scrapped is the workers found out, and increased by the fact he was being blamed for murder.

Sound No matter how bad Springtrap’s eyesight could get, no matter how often his joints locked up, Springtrap had always had his rabbit hearing. It had saved his life several times, back when the Classics were hunting him. He had figured out a basic method of echolocation for when his eyes were useless. He relied on his ears, and now they were letting him down for the first time in his life. It scared him.

Doors “Freddy! We have a problem!”

Attack He did. He needed a hand. God, it hurt. Where was his arm? Was that his arm? No, it couldn’t be. He was gold. Not green. Or maybe it was. It was hard to think. Thinking. What a strange concept. The Greeks had invented thinking, hadn't they? Why would they do that?

Rest There were voices. Voices. His voicebox had lungs. His lungs were in his spine. His spine was being held together by lungs. His spine attached to his legs. He had no legs. He heard voices. He couldn’t hear. The grass was nice. Cool. Soft. Green. Like his eyes. Not like his eyes. Like his fur. He had no fur. Like his plush. His plush was green. Or gold. Or red. Or brown. He couldn’t remember which. Maybe it was all of them There was a breeze. It was nice. Warm. Hot. It was sunny. The sun was a star. He liked stars. Stars meant Fredbear. And dancing. Where were his legs? He wanted to dance with the stars. Or with Fredbear. Fredbear. His Fredbear. He missed Fredbear.

Epilogue: Box Smeared down the plaster, it started about six feet up, and grew thicker toward the ground. It looked like Springtrap, or the Purple Guy, had slid down the wall until they were sitting. The tile beneath was stained heavily, and Freddy marvelled at how much blood was in a human body.

Epilogue: Opening ... no killing. That was the new rule. It was a strange one, for Master, but he supposed Master knew what he was talking about. He had changed, too; he had scratched behind his ears a couple days ago and it had felt so good.

Epilogue: Spark He remembered a time of life and colour, when he danced and played and sang, when children flocked around him and fed off his happiness and energy and gave him their own. He would experience that again.

#Golden Echoes

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whats-the-story-tc · 4 years

Text

26th-28th of April, 2020

"The Ones with the Series of Unfortunate Events"

[LONG AS FUCK SORRY]

After what happened on Saturday, I could barely fall asleep at night. I had a splitting headache from all the crying and genuinely felt like shit. Morning came, and I immediately reached for my phone. Nothing from her. It still being quite early, I tried to go back to sleep, and spent a full hour tossing and turning, a head full of thoughts, until I couldn't take it anymore. I turned my phone on and checked the notification bar, only to see a very familiar name and face.

I submitted my essay to her already, way before it was due, so when she actually assigned it in Google Classroom, I just pressed 'Mark as done' and thought I was good to go. V has obviously seen it (two links here). And, even though I didn't submit jackshit this time, she still felt the need to send me a "Thank you :)". I was overjoyed. FINALLY. So, as I explained here already, I had an impulse thought and decided to respond. "And thank YOU for the "task". I had a lot of fun with it. (I mean, the [poet's name] one.) If you're ever curious about anything of this sort, don't keep it to yourself :)" Of course, I regretted it as soon as I sent it. And, of course, I knew I wouldn't get an answer.

I promptly took a full day of rest after that, like I was trying to recover from a bad break-up. I didn't expect to hear from her again the next day.

Monday morning. New notification. Same old love of my life. She assigned us a project we'd already spoken about last week — to reinterpret a monologue from the play I read, the one V really likes, in any shape or form. Painting, video, prose, or, to quote V: "tiktok (not that I know how that works, but it's your choice)". She also said that she wants to keep what we make, maybe even share them with our Geo/Art teacher. I got even mote excited than when she first announced this. I knew I wanted to draw something, to show her a side of me she'd never seen before. I'm starting it on Friday. Doing a bit of painting, too. Wish me luck.

At around 2 PM that same day, Pocketwatch Friend noticed V's reply to her essay and asked me how she should respond to her. Found it quite funny, not gonna lie, knowing my history with replies. And as my friends told me about the responses they got, I realised a fundamental difference. All of them were skimmed over going into detail. They noted them fine, but didn't take the time to explain why they were noteworthy. So basically, they lacked content. Meanwhile the only things she spent paragraphs pointing out about my essay were miniscule stylistic mistakes. This gave me a fair bit of reassurance about what I do. I did enough. I was enough.

Come Tuesday, I was a nervous wreck to say the least. I always am, when it comes to online classes, but especially so when I have class with V. I walked up-and-down in the room, listening to her talk, not daring to say a word. God, I wish I kept to that.

Before I get to the part where y'all laugh at my misery, a teensy bit of prelude. Here I mentioned that the first time I had spoken to V after class, the 11th of October, 2018, we spoke about Hamlet. In short, I was a bit oblivious, and didn't really know how to recognise the Oedipus complex I've seen associated with the play. We were covering the story of Oedipus anyway, so I trotted up to her after class to talk. I remember the afternoon Sun shining really bright that day, and V being very relaxed and fully in her element as she spoke, leaning against my desk (that I wasn't sitting at by then). I went home smiling, unable to get her out of my head after that. It should've been clear from that day.

Now, on to class. There were a lot of good bits, a lot of interesting bits... but I don't want to talk about those now.

Last ten minutes, V asks if there are any questions. "I might just have one." I said, and immediately regretted it, even though I could hear the smile in V's voice as she said "Off you go". Theatre/Literature buffs, I'm sure you'll know the line "Frailty, thy name is woman!" from, you guessed it, Hamlet. Now, in the poem we were talking about, there was a line with the exact same structure, only with different words in the place of frailty and woman. I tried to twist it and see if V made that same association, but luck didn't favour me that day. V had no last clue what I meant when I said the quote was familiar. I tried to explain it to the best of my abilities, though I didn't remember the exact Hamlet quote. Neither did V. "I don't really know Hamlet by heart." "Neither do I!" I tried to counter, but just made it more awkward. Bless her soul, V googled it there and then, but just by me saying it was said to Gertrude, it brought up another play with another Gertrude — coincidentally, the one V stroke up a conversation about with me on the very last day of actual school. Those being the results made V laugh, so at least that's a win from my part. I ended up looking it up myself, trying to remember the quote, and ended up answering my own damn question. "So it was the grammatical structure, then?" V asked, with that very same peace in her voice as last year, and I excitedly replied "Yes!". Conversation over. And even though she genuinely sounded interested, I hated myself for bringing up a totally unnecessary thing. Though I hope that I made V "pull [Hamlet] off the top shelf" after class, as she said she might, were it not for me finding the answer.

I was already feeling horrible. Then, V brought up the assignments mentioned earlier and sounded really excited about it, starting to list what she imagined us doing. "A rewrite of the scene in the play..." and as she was saying my name, I grinned and asked her "Was this an indirect reference?". I needed no further convincing that she, indeed, read what I texted her. But here comes the part I laugh at now, but right then it was horrible. She actually chuckled at my teasing question, and God I wish I remembered what she said. Then I said: "I was actually planning on something else, but..." because I found it an interesting idea, and I have been meaning to do that, too. And that's where it got awkward. V, the usually unfaltering and confident V, was startled. Proper startled that she might have accidentally changed my mind. She started saying "oh, no, I didn't mean it like that, I was just trying to predict things..." and that made me worried, so after the oh no, I immediately started rambling "no, no, of course, I know what you meant, I understand". So there we were, talking over each other, both of us a nervous mess that we may have said something wrong we didn't mean. Right now, I find it absolutely hilarious, because how on Earth did we manage that?? But there and then?

I started crying. Silently, of course, not to worry her even further. (I didn't want to turn my mic off because I was scared it would malfunction again.) But I was so tense, that all my gasoline pool of nerves needed was this little spark of awkward, and it caught flame. I stood there, tears streaming down my cheeks, blaming myself for speaking and thinking I should've just shut up.

Soon after, V told us not to stress about the assignment, because "it's just homework". Everybody's favourite Cynical Twat, who is even worse at social situations than I am, tried to express he was glad to hear that, but did so in a very confusing and sarcastic way that V didn't really understand. "It would be pretty shitty of me" to make us stress, she said. So I dried my tears and jumped in, because she deserved to hear the compliment. "I don't mean to speak for [Cynical Twat], but I think he meant that we're all glad you said that. Not many people do it like that." I told her something along the lines of that. "Oh, okay." she said, disbelief thick in her voice. Hey, V. We bloody love you. It's time you start believing it.

Class ended soon after, and I spent about twenty minutes sobbing and cursing myself. The message from Pocketwatch Friend saying "I can't believe [V] replies to everything" as they were talking about her essay, only made it worse.

That night, I had a conversation with one of my underclassmen I talk to every once in a blue moon. We were discussing school and teachers, and I intentionally didn't bring up V. I waited for her to. Though, okay, I did provoke it a teensy bit, but just slightly. So, we talk about her, and through the things the girl says, I find out that... heh, of course, I'm not the only one she strikes up convos with. Turns out, after a joke, V even winked at her! (Okay, she did that to me once, too, when I stood up for her in class, but that's not the point.) After that, I was carrying the convo on just fine, but inwards, I was spiralling into a great big void of 'You ain't special to her, bitch, the fuck were you thinking'. The girl ended the conversation with "the woman's weird (...) but that's how we love her". Right. Yeah.

Now, two days later at current, I'm back in the room where all the crying went down. Bit surreal, thinking back. I'm sure I won't forget this for quite a while. Will my unlucky strike stop anytime soon? I don't know. We'll see. But I don't think anything could surprise me anymore.

You may take that as a challenge, V.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

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intotheswamp · 4 years

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KOJEY RADICAL - Interview, March 2020.

Back in March, I interviewed Kojey Radical for a fashion website’s summer campaign. Then, y’know, a pandemic kicked off. Then, y’know, I got fired from said fashion website. So when I saw the website publishing shots from said campaign, I figured that my interview with Kojey would be lost forever, or chopped into pieces, or (most likely) my work would never get credited. So that’s why I’m publishing it here, for you to read, without being told to buy anything. One love, and motherfuck a Mike Ashley.

How have you found today?

So far so good.

Not too cold?

Well.. [laughs]

What's a normal day like in the life of Kojey Radical?

Depends on what day of the week it is. if I get time off, I'm chilling. All the way. I'm not trying to do too much because work is so intense and I'm busy and you kind of constantly got to stay creative and for me, I like pressure when I when I gotta finish up, deliver something... But to create ideas, I gotta be real relaxed. The most stressful thing for me is to play the Xbox.

Is something like today is that does not pop up pretty usually?

Yeah, and it's cool. I love it, I wouldn't have it any other way, but... It's crazy because like if you know, it's going to come up with music but you start off intending to just do music. Yeah, don't think about anything else. You don't think about having to do shoots or campaigns or even interviews. Just think about that what song's coming next, so it's the only thing that doesn't feel second nature. I feel like I gotta be, like... zen.

Would your friends describe you like that?

No.

How would they describe you?

Annoying. I'm petty, I'm sarcastic, I'm bad at communication, but I'm lovable and generous and funny. I like long walks on the beach. I mean, it's all just like it's all just one big Bumble profile. [laughs] Nah, but I feel like they all secretly love me.

You grew up in Hoxton. What does summer feel like in that part of London to you?

Busy. Chaotic. Familiar. Loud. Fun. There's an energy that comes with the area, that invites people to the area. So it kind of becomes like a hub, like a source of people to come and be themselves or get to the truest version of what they see themselves as... and then complain about it while they're there. That's just like that's just how we do it, we're English fam. We just complain.

Growing up, would you practice being onstage in your bedroom?

Yeah, I mean most of my life, my favourite lyrics are still written in my bedroom. I didn't necessarily ever think I was going to do music, it wasn't necessarily part of the plan. Poetry was just something I used to do as an escape from... everything, from life, from self, from, yeah, from anything. So my first passion and my first love was art, so I painted, drew, illustrated, designed... and I used poetry as a fall back like, Okay, just write what you got to say when you can't communicate. I find you you always have to explain art, people want you to explain art and sometimes it's difficult. So, to put it into words or kind of contextualizing another way was easier for me and then I had an idea for music and the rest is history. We good to go. We lit now.

So what would you consider yourself first and foremost?

I still consider myself an artist, I think the medium changed but the technique, the focus, the idea, the mentality - same thing.

What's the what's the main difference between writing a poem and writing a chorus?

A poem don't have to be catchy. A poem don't have to stay in your mind; the impact of a poem has to, but no particular part or lyric or line has to rhyme or rhythm in a way that sticks to you. Whereas when you're writing music or writing songs, there's a different technique. There's a different charm that comes with that. You can't even let the fact that you're poetical stop you from learning. Connecting loads of words - yeah, there's a genius to it, but there's also a genius to simplicity.

Some of the best choruses and the best songs were often the most simple, or when you dissect the lyrics or give them meaning, they're the most poetic. So you gotta find a happy medium: whenever I'm writing music and choruses or raps or anything, it's about feeling. I don't feel it, it's off. If I write something and someone recites it back, and something about it feels off, that ain't right. We just fix it.

So what was the moment you definitely knew you wanted to work as a creative?

When I could hustle some money. I used to flip drawings, used to draw stuff for people - they used to pay me in primary school and then I used to flip video work. I filmed for people, wrote video treatments graduate for people. I used to flip -- flip anything, I was good at flipping. I was good at making money, to make some cash. Once I realised I could do it with some art, I was never working a normal job again. Ever. Again. I got fired from every job I ever worked.

What was the worst job you ever worked?

What was the worst job I ever worked? They was all pretty much based around retail. They was all cool jobs! I just wasn't meant to work and that's fine. You feel that. You just got to figure out you, got to figure out your pace and what works for you. Like there's not one blueprint for everybody in the world and I think I got stuck following the group for a while. And luckily, I think everybody else around me could see it wasn't working for me and I was destined for something else. And that's why I kept getting fired: not because I was late, or because I didn't care enough, or that I couldn't find the stock room, or whatever else they might say. It's because they believed it. [laughs]

What was the first style purchase you remember saving up for?

What'd I buy? Well, some skinny jeans. That was revolutionary for me. I was wearing bootcuts for a long time. [laughs] I remember my first pair of skinny jeans changed my life. Then, trainers, I think I got some like adidas. What else did I like back then? You know what? I wanted to dress like Pharrell, so I bought whatever Pharrell wore or made. So I just saved up for whatever Pharrell made, like BAPE, Ice Cream, Billionaire Boys Club, Human Made, Dirty Ghetto Kids... Loads of them. Even those weird Soulja Boy shoes [laughs] that looked like the Ice Creams! They looked crazy. Yeah, I wanted to dress like Pharrell.

So style and music have always been one and the same for you.

Yeah. Like, when you're a kid, music is a big tool for communication and whoever speaks the loudest to you is going to inspire you the most. I was a kid growing up through like, I guess, trying to find myself and find where I belong. The stuff I saw, the communities and the tribes that I would see exist around certain types of music seemed the most appealing to me. I'm just getting into skate culture, I was really into like that early Neptunes production, and just the idea that style and music could go together. And Pharrell always kind of created a style around the sound, so like there'd be a shift in the music but also a shift in the fashion, they'd go hand-in-hand. You could almost feel the scrambling of everybody trying to catch up or imitate or recreate because it was just so... different and special. I think that effect is what gassed me the most as I want that effect. I'll never imitate anybody's music or anything like that, you can take inspiration, but it's the steps. It's like: what effect did that personality have? If you have the ability to inspire and really kind of create this need for other people to create what's next.

You’ve toured the UK many times, has any parts of the country influenced your style?

I almost bought a kilt in Scotland, but other than that, nah. I stay me. Which is cool. Everybody should be them. When I get there, I'm like you might learn this and I get to learn something. That's cool. I'm happy with learning.

What stopped you from buying the kilt?

It wasn't one in my size.

Fair enough. I read that you were in Accra before jumping into the process of making Cashmere Tears. What style inspiration have you taken from being in Ghana?

I picked up one of the greatest of all time, and her name is Amaarae. She's a young singer-songwriter from Accra and she was the catalyst and glue and the genius that helped make Cashmere Tears that extra bit more cashmere feeling.

Who else are you inspired by in fashion?

Amaarae, she's sick, you gotta see the way she dresses. When I first seen her, she jumped out of a big Jeep with a boxy blazer, she was almost on some Grace Jones type of stuff, but it was wavier because the hair was dyed - all the designer stuff was subtle, it was all accessories and I was like, yeah, cashmere.

Are you a big accessories, big jewelry person?

Yeah. Yeah, I like to say no, but I've got a mouthful of gold and neck full for silver and a wrist with whatever this is. I try not to show it, so I just wear it and keep my mouth closed. I put my chains on and zip my hoodie up. Because it's for me. I like it for me. I like the idea of grafting, sacrificing and when you can, just give yourself something nice. So all the jewelry, when I can, it's subtle [laughs]. When I can!

I read that you were really into Yohji Yamamoto. Can you talk a bit more about that?

Yeah, I mean, I think I think there's there's there's a power in deciding an aesthetic and sticking to it and I think the idea of almost concentrating in black, and seeing how far you can take different shapes and different ideas without stepping outside of an aesthetic... It's still revolutionising, but you're keeping it familiar, which then helps you concentrate your ideas into innovation, rather than trying to trend chase. Because you don't have to care what colors are in season, you have to care about what shapes are going to be most complementary to whatever else is going on out there, because that he's designed a whole wardrobe. That means that you never have to think about it. I feel like fashion should be conscious in the way it's made, in its approach to materials, literally how it is made... But, like, it should be subconscious in the way it's chosen and how it fits into your life, and how you put clothes on and how you approach wearing clothes. You shouldn't have to think about it. Everything should be done for you. That's the perfect consumer relationship, when it's just easy.

What's your favorite thing about working and creating in London?

The people I've managed to meet from here, the creators I've managed to create with here, I've always got to show love to my team: Kaz, Swindle, Q, Charlie, my sister, managers, like everybody that certainly see my tour manager like everybody else around me my music my band - like everybody that helps me make the stuff is a different part of London. A different viewpoint and different perspective. It all comes together to make the big Megazord. In Power Rangers, you see when it's like they fought the evil ones, pow pow pow, jobs' done. The job is never done. You gotta take that one in. What happens is you don't quit. You assume, grab the mandem, say boom, Megazord time. Everyone gets together. Genius. That's how I ended up with all these amazing projects and great music - because I am in the Megazord a hundred percent of the time, and I wouldn't have that Megazord without London. Full circle. See how I came back? Mad ting.

What Power Ranger would you be?

I would be the Green Power Ranger because I'm sometimes, I'm here, nah I'm not here, it depends what I'm doing this week... I can't be a Power Ranger all the time, there to save the day all day every day, you know how long this is? Nah, pop up like the Green Ranger, boom. What's that? It's Gucci, I'm wearing Gucci right there. All in front of you. [chuckles]

I saw your set with Swindle at Glastonbury last year and was taken aback by how stylishly you were dressed. What’s your approach to hitting the stage in the summer, are you dressing for the heat or to impress?

It's tough because essentially I used to really really really really dress up. Then I realized how impractical that was for the type of performance I give, so then the basis of a performance outfit was like: an amazing pair of trousers, I start with the trousers every time, cos nine times out of ten I will end the show in probably just my trousers. From there, you can go matching set or you can go some complimentary, so that kind of gives it volume and shape depending on what style of trousers - with skinnier, I might wear something heavy on top, if they're like a flare trouser, I might keep it real simple like a silk shirt on an open up ting.

Boom. Nine times out of ten though, the top's coming off cos we got work to do. So that's when the accessories come into play. The jeew-ells have to be shining. I don't wear my teeth when I'm on stage because I can't rap with these in, but also... The socks got to be fire, because sometimes if it's really crazy, that stage, I might just need to make it home. I mean, I'm kicking the shoes off and we're just going for it. Plus - I don't want to lose my shoes in a mosh pit, so I'd rather just go in there with my socks and have someone pick me up. Crowd surfing's fun.

You’ve hit the festival loop, not only in the UK but in countries across Europe as well. What makes a British summer vibe different to one elsewhere?

It's home! It's familiar, you know where to go. You know where the vibe is, you know how to navigate and I think... Memories are created in the summer, and the more memories you can create, the better. I think naturally as time progresses and generations grow up and there's always like a big vibe, there's always like new memories to make. So I think the summers I remember as a kid are different to the summers I experience now, and the ones that I experience in 10 years will be different to the ones from now. So luckily, If everything goes to plan, I'll be around for many more summertimes and then I'll be able to tell you a real, real answer. Right now, I'm just going through them one by one but I like 'em. Plus: you could go on holiday! If it gets boring, just hop on the plane, land somewhere, two weeks, bit of sun, come back, get more sun.

Tell us the process behind making ‘One Night Only’ with Mahalia, it really blew up.

Yeah, that was a good riddim. We'd done 'Water', which was a great record, my record. I remember I had finished 'Water' and I called Mahalia. First, I like the sound of the song, she's hitting me back straight away like yeah I'm on it. We went to the studio and really hit it off. That's, like, a great friend of mine. I was with her the other day actually, she was picking out jewelery at Cartier. Like, look how far we've come eh? Life's different now. Anyway, boom: back to the song. Swindle made 'Water', Swindle also made 'One Night Only'. So for us, that felt like the Dream Team, so when they had an open verse on that record, first person they called was me. What was crazy about it was that I didn't even intend to, like, be on the record like that. I was just going to help with some writing or whatever, but May puts confidence in me when it comes to my pen, and she teaches me to believe in certain parts of lyrics or ideas that I write down that I'm like hmmm, that won't work for me or that won't sound right. Even when I came in with the [sings] funny duh-duh-duhduh, I was just vibe-writing. I didn't think I was gonna have to sing it, and then, when you see it live, it's a movie. Get them going, eyes closed with the [pretends to hit a high note] It's wavy, trust me. It's a wave! That riddim's fire.

With on stage performances, do you find yourself holding in energy--

No.

So you don't save up energy for the performance, you've got energy all the time?

That's a waste of life if you hold back. Especially when you have the opportunity to go even further. We just got to cut all that out, that whole humble thing. Be humble, have humility, that is a good trait. But, naturally we feel that to appease other people, we have to downplay ourselves. If you're good at something, do good at it and then do great. Do it better than good. Don't ever tell no one, ah I'm not sure, nope. No holding back. If I'm not holding back, you can't hold back. So really, it's just two forces going at it when I'm on stage: it's just two tidal waves crashing. It's just beautiful. It's an explosion of love, it's great, cos no one's holding back. And if you're holding back? To the back, of the bus, go home.

Okay: don't be humble now. Tell us what's coming this year.

Everything, everything you could possibly imagine. And maybe nothing! Sometimes you got to hold back, but in a different way, you gotta make 'em want it, and then: boom! You give them better than great. Last time, I said do good be great. Then you give 'em better than great. So I haven't decided yet. I need to feel it out, I've got so much sitting there. We're bout to do this tour, going off to America, that'll be fun - feel like Eddie Murphy a little bit but it's cool, we'll figure out when we get there. Boom. Come back do a European part, do a UK part, lick off the festivals a little bit or... drop some music, write an album, make a film, design some furniture... I don't know!

Everything. That's the thing. I do whatever I want whenever I want to so I just got to want to do it and everything will be done. In the world, everything. I will change this planet. I promise.

2019 felt like a really big year for you. Was there a point you felt as though, 'wow, this is a real moment'?

[strokes chin] What happened last year? Cashmere Tears came out... Mmmm, so much happened. I forget. Every year rolls into one year, it just feels like it keeps going, and every time you get through that one milestone or one, kind of like, 'Yeah. Okay. That was crazy'. Something else happens the next week that's even crazier. So to process it, I'll almost forget what I did the day before, just so I can process what I'm about to do the next day. My family will have to remind me, like, big yourself up, be proud of yourself, you've come so far, you've done this you've done that. I'll just genuinely forget that - I could do Glastonbury on Tuesday and by Thursday all I care about is getting Prestige in Call of Duty. Like it, depends on what's going on. But I remember when I did KOKO, like a thousand, five hundred people, that felt like the biggest thing that'd ever happened to me. Then the year after that I was headlining the festival with Giles [Peterson] and now, this year I'm about to do Roundhouse and that's double the amount of people of KOKO. After that I got to think about the next big thing. So they all roll into one and I'm just happy I can keep doing it, because like I don't really care how long it takes, as long as I can do it forever.

You feel a bit purposeless when you stop working. That's why I'm like, I wanna just get back on tour, get back out there and start doing shows and not get restless. We stop what we're doing, but then everyone rushes to get to that point with fame, like I want to be the biggest in the world or... Once you're at the top, you can only stay there for so long before you have to come down, that's how gravity works. The higher and faster you get there, the faster you're going to come down! That's science. Gravity, science, it's all right there in the textbooks they teach you in school. You just got to relate it to success and you'll be fine, you'll have all the answers.

Like who's on the up then in terms of gravity that you're checking out?

Everybody that I love and my prayers for them, is that they stay there for as long as possible, because everybody deserves it because everybody works really really hard. Mahalia again, that's a great friend of mine, to see her success is, like, amazing. Even, like, Swindle again, that's my brother - like I remember sitting in the cinema to watch one film and his advert with Apple comes on and it's his music playing, and I'm like yo...! That's big! It's crazy to me, because those are your friends, that's family, you're just excited for them. You just want everybody to win. I don't even know see the top, no one's even near the top, because once you're there, there's only one way down. So we're just still climbing, every day. Climb.

We're going to wrap this up real quick with a quick fire round. Okay, so just clear your mind - get real zen. First thing that comes to mind. What can’t you wait to wear this summer?

Silk.

What's a summer session mean to you?

Vibes. Plenty of vibes.

Who's going to drop the song of the summer?

Me.

What can't you leave the house without?

My wallet. No, I can! I'm lying. I can't leave the house without... my house keys. [chuckles]

In your area, where are you going when it's a sunny day?

Rooftop.

Fave party tune?

'Can't Lose' by Benji Flow.

Favorite sweet?

Werther's Original. I'm an old man.

Fave drink mixer?

Ginger beer. [PAUSE] No! Orange juice.

Favorite movie?

Beasts of the Southern Wild.

What's your favorite place on Earth?

My bedroom.

And your favorite piece of advice?

Keep going.

#interview #transcript #kojey radical #mahalia #fashion #uk music #poetry #style #swindle #pharrell #dgk #billionaire boys club

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annewithagee · 5 years

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More than Pride vol. I (3)

She was a mistress of her own fate, ready to curve her own future. She was a fighter, refusing to give in to her own, cruel demons. And no one could take it away from her, not anymore, neither with words or deeds, because right now she felt strong enough to stand up for herself.

If only Gilbert Blythe didn’t spoil it with his jokes.

Shirbert, Anne with an E versed. AO3 / fanfiction.net

Chapter 3 I just wish we weren’t paired

Anne kept staring at her teacher long after the latter had finished her announcement, shocked, dumbfounded and in the general state of utter disbelief.

"You are paired with Gilbert Blythe."

Oh, why was she even surprised? Of course she was paired with him.

"And you talk of having bad luck," Anne murmured under her breath even though – or maybe, because – she well knew Diana could not hear her among the confusion that had suddenly arose in the room. She didn't bother to repeat her statement when the latter gave her a curious look or mumbled an absent-minded "Sorry?", instead waving her hand dismissively and just shaking her head. She really didn't feel like dwelling on the topic; especially seeing that Diana's mind was already set on the task at hand.

Anne couldn't help but think how fortunate it was that she happened to be sitting by the window for once. If she had not, she would have been expected to leave her place and join Gilbert by his desk, which obviously meant having to cross the whole room on yet another walk of shame. In her mind she might have known that she had no reason to be ashamed this time and that if some people had problems with her entirely accidental cooperation with said boy, it was their problems, not hers – but in her soul and heart she still felt the pang of anxiety at the thought that this accidental occurrence could still affect her relations with others.

She was too preoccupied with that problem to think of that it could affect her relationship with Gilbert himself, too.

What mattered now was that she had at least been spared the staring that would have undoubtedly been her share had she been forced to leave the reasonably safe haven of her seat. She didn't have to go anywhere. She would sit, and she would wait, gazing at the fields outside, humbly hoping that Ruby would not make too much fuss over the adverse events of today.

"Is this seat taken?"

Anne rolled her eyes but decided not to fight the smile that involuntarily appeared on her face.

"You know it's not," she answered with mock hostility, deciding not to look at the boy unless it was absolutely necessary. She heard him hum in amusement and rolled her eyes again, imagining the lopsided grin that certainly bloomed on his face. "And you better take it before I ask Miss Stacy to let me work alone."

Gilbert wisely refrained from a comment for the time being, focusing on placing his writing equipment on Diana's desk instead.

"I'm sorry you're stuck with me on this," he whispered when he was securely seated on the bench; Anne glanced at him, surprised with the genuine, almost apologetic tone of his voice. "For your sake. I can't say the same for myself."

"Why would you say that?" she asked, abashed.

"Well, your reaction wasn't exactly... enthusiastic," he explained patiently before letting out a small chuckle. "Your eyes grew so big, I thought you might get up and run away on the spot."

"That's not what – I didn't mean to – oh, stop it, Gil!" Anne stuttered in response, silently cursing her sudden inability to create a coherent sentence. She was confused enough as she was; Gilbert's idiotic grin was of no help to her. "Stop smiling at me like this! And stop mocking me. I was surprised, that's all – and you should know I don't run away just because I'm a little distressed. Not anymore, anyway."

"Yeah. Anyway."

Anne was saved from answering that vague, seemingly meaningless statement that for some reason had made her smile grow wide, when Miss Stacy tapped on her own desk. She fixed her gaze on her teacher at once, although she couldn't help but glance at Gilbert beforehand; his mouth was twitching into a soft smile again.

Somehow, it was nice to think there were memories only the two of them shared.

"Alright class, I want you to listen to me carefully," Miss Stacy proceeded. "I'm going to give you copies of Lord Tennyson's poem, one copy for a pair. You are to read it together, quietly, and then try to interpret it in the best way you can. The trick is however, you are not supposed to plan it."

"How can we write anything good if we can't think it over first?" came Josie Pye's indispensable remark.

Once again, Miss Stacy only smiled. "You are more than welcome to think it over, my dear. What I don't want you to do is to discuss it with your partner, for that would spoil the very sense of this exercise. Now, if you'd just let me finish, I think I could explain it to you quite clearly."

Josie fell silent. The rest of the class remained the same.

"To sum it up shortly," the teacher picked up after the pause. "Instead of discussing the plan of action, I want you to take action from the start. There is a piece of blank paper attached to each of the copies you'll get. Your task is to write down your thoughts by turns, sentence by sentence, all while trying to keep the final text consistent both by the means of structure and content. As I said, you may talk – but I highly advise you do not. Do you have any questions at this point?"

Murmurs echoed in the classroom. A hand was raised.

"Are we all going to read the same poem?" the perfectly practical Jane Andrews inquired.

"What will the poem be?" the hopelessly romantic Anne Shirley-Cuthbert breathed.

If by looking at Ruby Diana could have assumed that the former would fall of the bench, Gilbert had every right to believe the same scenario would come true for Anne.

Just mere minutes earlier she'd been as calm as a sphinx, determined to prove her friends that her assignment did anything but pleased her. Right now she was excited beyond belief, waiting for her teacher's answer as if she'd been awaiting a sentence on her life. Her eyes seemed even bigger now, shining with joy and hope, even though even she didn't quite knew what it was she was hoping for. She pursed her parted lips and swallowed nervously.

Gilbert let his smile widen at the sight.

"You will all read the same poem, yes," Miss Stacy confirmed simultaneously. "And it’s the Song from the Marriage of Geraint."

"Idylls of the King." Anne muttered in excited whisper as she followed her teacher with her gaze. She took two of the sheets Miss Stacy gave them and passed the rest to the students sitting behind her. "Oh, Gilbert, isn't this thrilling?"

"I suppose it is for someone who cares for Lord Tennyson as much as you do," the boy answered with a grin. "I'm guessing you know this particular work as well?"

"Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel..." Anne nearly sang to him. She would have laughed too, had they not been sitting feet away from where Miss Stacy stood.

Gilbert shook his head. "Is there any poem you haven't learnt by heart yet?"

"Quite a few, actually. But I'm doing my best to reduce the number – and as you said, I care for Lord Tennyson a great deal indeed. I hadn't even heard of him before coming to Green Gables and reading him for school, but oh, it was worth to wait for poetry of this sort."

"I only hope I will manage to keep up with your enthusiasm for him during this exercise. Don't hate me for saying this, Anne, but Lord Tennyson is not a favourite poet of mine."

"Oh, well," Anne gasped, a little disappointed. "Well, I still trust you will work fairly on this, and as long as you do, I'm sure we'll be alright."

"Again, I'm sorry you have to work with me."

It was her turn to shake her head.

"I've never said I didn't want to work with you," she said. "I just wish we weren't paired."

"Why then?" Gilbert asked, surprised.

"Because I tend to care about what other people think of me too much."

Gilbert let the subject drop, deciding to focus his attention on the poem in front of him that he still needed to read. Despite her knowledge of it, Anne kept glancing over his shoulder, her gaze shifting between the sheet and his face as she tried to determine how far into the poem he was and completely oblivious to the distraction she thus caused. Luckily for them, the poem wasn't long and even with Anne leaning so closely Gilbert eventually managed to finish his reading.

"Alright, I'm ready," he announced with a barely audible sigh of relief. "I say – ladies first?"

The girl by his side nodded eagerly and began to work immediately. Contrary to their doubts and fear, the cooperation was going smoothly for them – just as it always is when two young clever minds set of towards a mutual goal, striving to achieve the best of results. They could not refrain from a little competition, excelling one another in spot-on remarks and ideas that were just a little too far-fetched, but at the same time bearing in minds the main aim of their task and trying to make the essay coherent.

By the end of the lesson the sheet seemed to be flying from one end of the desk to the other and before they knew it, they had come to their conclusion. Anne froze, surprised.

"Anne? You're alright?" she heard Gilbert ask as she stared at the paper, her hand and pen hovering above it.

"Is that it?" she whispered in lieu of an answer, her gaze not leaving the sheet for a moment. "Are we really done already?"

Her companion laughed shortly. "I think we almost are. But I can see you still have something to add, and since you were the one to write the first sentence of this masterpiece I believe it's only fair if I write the last one. We do that and we're done."

"Well, I suppose I need a moment to think it through," she responded a little sheepishly. "The last words of the text are always the ones that matter most, so I can't write some nonsense as I did before."

"I don't think you've written any nonsense so far, Anne."

"Even if I didn't, these last lines still ought to stand out somehow. Please, just give me a moment and I'll certainly manage to come up with something."

"I have no doubt that you will," Gilbert answered a little too dreamily for his own liking; he cracked a grin at her after. "Just please make sure you don't ponder for too long, I'd actually like to have supper tonight.

Anne huffed and fixed her gaze on their essay. Her mind was working rapidly, suggesting dozens of ideas, all of them suitable for the ending of the essay – and none that could possibly be squeezed into a single sentence. Her eyes flickered towards the text of the poem, too dear to her heart not to be read again. So she did, and she smiled, feeling the warmth and passion, and hope that seemed to radiate from the black verses of words.

"Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands..."

Yes, she was that. A mistress of her own fate, ready to curve her own future. And no one could take it away from her, not anymore, neither with words or deeds, because right now she felt strong enough to stand up for herself. She would not disregard Ruby's looks or feelings but she would not let the ungrounded sense of guilt dictate her life, either. She would not feel ashamed of what and who she was. And, most of all she would not -

"Hey, carrots."

All of her sudden confidence dissolved into thin air as soon as she heard Gilbert's words.

"What did you call me?" she asked, turning slowly towards him, her eyes wide with disbelief. The boy gave her an apologetic smile that suddenly felt so awfully fake, even though she couldn't quite point out the reason why.

All of her musing, each and every of her recent resolutions seemed to be crumbling down, spoilt so recklessly by his untimely comment. All at once she felt a sting go right into her vulnerable heart, bringing back the memories she'd been trying so hard to repress, unable to stop the merciless train of thoughts that ran through her mind against her will, against her doubts, against her better judgement.

"I'm sorry, Anne, but I called your name twice before and you didn't react. You know I meant no harm."

She knew she should not have felt offended by his words. She knew that for him it was just a mere joke, a way to catch her attention, just like it had been all those months ago. But at the same time, she could not ignore the memories the words brought to her and how much harm they truly did.

Carrots.

Red-head.

Witch.

And it hurt almost physically to think that he was the one person who didn't realise that.

In a second her focus was on their shared paper again, as she scribbled the first thing that came to her mind, only half caring whether it was good enough for Miss Stacy's standards. She didn't care about Gilbert's astonished glare, either, nor for the words that came from him after the first moment of stupor. And yet, he kept talking.

"For heaven's sake, Anne, what's wrong?" he asked, bewildered. She didn't grace him with a response. "You can't possibly be mad for that silly nickname, can you? You were miles away and I needed to bring you back before Miss Stacy would notice – I never would have done it otherwise. And you know I didn't mean to insult you. Please, just look at me and I promise I will never -"

"Miss Stacy, we're done!" was all Anne cared to say. She was standing now, turned towards the back of the room where their teacher was checking the progress made by her friends. "Should we leave it on your desk or -"

"Anne, what are you doing?" Gilbert hissed from his seat, completely taken aback by her actions. "We haven't finished, I still need to write my part!"

"Just lay it on your own desk and I will collect it. I'll be there in a minute, so you just wait, dear," Miss Stacy answered almost simultaneously.

Anne felt that just this once, she could not follow her beloved schoolmarm's request so easily.

"Oh, yes, but I was wondering..." she tried again, trying for all her might to keep her voice even and calm. "It has just occurred to me that I should be back at Green Gables as soon as I can today, and since you said this assignment is the last of our tasks for today I hoped I could go home at once – if only that's alright with you, of course."

"In such case, I don't see why you should not go," Miss Stacy admitted; she sounded a little reluctant but Anne could not bring herself to pay any mind to it right now. "Although I would like to discuss your working process with you as soon as I can – so please make sure to come to school a few minutes early on Monday, will you?"

"Of course."

"And I am going to give you some more reading for the weekend so it is up to you to learn what it is from your friends."

"I will."

"You may go, then" the teacher waved her hand and smiled before returning to the pair she'd been helping before.

Anne wasted no time and began to pack immediately.

"Anne, slow down a little," Gilbert pleaded once again. He tried to stop her by grabbing her hand but she yanked it away furiously. "I'm sorry, I had no idea it would annoy you so much."

"Annoy me?" she echoed flatly.

"I didn't want to distress you," Gilbert went on stubbornly. "And I really am sorry. Weren't you one to say that an apology can go a long way?"

"Only if you mean it," she retorted mercilessly and straightened up even more. "Now if you'd be so kind and let me through, I have more duties to attend to and I can't do it with you blocking my way out."

Gilbert did as he was told, not finding the strength to oppose her any longer. Anne stormed past him without a second thought and marched across the classroom, grabbing her hat and almost slamming the door behind her.

There were no broken slates, no shouts or outbursts.

No temper had been lost.

Only a miserable girl of fifteen, with a crack in her heart and tears in her eyes, that somehow stung more than ever before.

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #shirbert #anne shirley #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #friendship #with arguments

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remcase · 5 years

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Chapter 22

Love can vanquish Death. - Lord Alfred Tennyson.

For a moment William was blinded by the sun and could make out nothing of the graveyard below, but once the light stopped bursting in his eyes he looked down. Beside him he saw Elijah’s knees give slightly and he just let out a deep, unsteady breath.

Noah was ok.

He was standing by his mother’s grave, and though he was still, simply staring at it, when he moved his head to the side and wrapped his arms around himself William knew he was ok, and that he was safe.

He was almost sure he let out a cry of pure happiness and relief before he was running, heart thundering, feet pounding, down the hill to Noah. All of the day’s emotions crashed over him, coursing through his veins and when Noah heard his approach he turned, shocked despite the tears running freely down his face and then, he was in William’s arms.

That feeling of having Noah in his arms, safe and warm, after hours of pure agony, was so strong that William immediately started to shake and shudder with it, kissing Noah’s forehead, hair, cheeks, and temple, simply breathing him in.

He’s here.

“Gorgeous?” Noah protested weakly, trying to pull back so he could look at him, “What’s wrong? How did you find me? What’s going-”

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Noah Callaway.” William growled at him, the harsh anger in his voice juxtaposed by the gentle hands on his jaw guiding his beautiful face up and to the sun so he could see him. He was so beautiful, tears clinging to his lashes like diamonds, his eyes so light, his hair so dark, his lips so soft. Then, he kissed him, pouring all of his raging emotions into it, purging himself of all the darkness that had filled him up and revelling in the light and warmth and good that he found in its place instead. When they broke apart they were both breathing raggedly, bodies flush, and their arms locked tightly each other. Noah’s eyes were wide. “Will?”

“I thought you were fucking gone.” William whispered, “And you promised you’d never leave me.”

Realising how upset William was, and perhaps hearing that edge of hysteria in his voice Noah hugged him tightly, shaking his head quickly. “I’m here, gorgeous. I’m not going anywhere. No matter what.”

They stayed like that for a long while and William allowed himself to be held, feeling the world pass them by for just a moment while they were still, unmoving, and together.

William was alive again.

Eventually, however, he was forced to let Noah go and when he did his anger rightfully returned. He wiped his eyes fiercely. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? Why did you leave without saying anything?!”

“How did you even find me?” Noah countered, then his eyes widened in realisation. “Dad. Dad’s here isn’t he?”

Looking back over his shoulder, William saw that Elijah was nowhere in sight, no doubt giving the boys some privacy and likely needing to recover from the trauma of the day before he had to face his son. William’s anger faded and he sighed, laying a heavy hand on the side of Noah’s neck, his thumb stroking the soft and delicate skin there. “Yeah he’s here, baby. You fucking scared everyone.”

“Tell me.”

So he did. William told Noah about every single minute that he had missed while he was gone, sparing no detail, hiding no truths, and not attempting to shield him in any way from how bad his act was, and how the repercussions of his actions would be severe. Finally he told him in explicit detail how what Noah had done had made him feel. By the time he was done talking Noah was crying openly. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking…I was just thinking about myself. I’m so fucking sorry gorgeous.”

William caught his tears and wiped them away tenderly. “Tell me everything.”

“What do you-?”

“Everything.” William repeated solemnly. “No more lies, no more omissions, no more half-truths. It’s time.”

Stepping away from William but keeping a hold of his hand, Noah sighed and turned him to face the grave. It was plain, simple, the headstone bearing the name Eloise Callaway and the dates of her birth and death, the inscription just a quote that he recognised from the poem Noah had taken from the library, the poem that was now held in a small frame and rested on the grave next to fresh flowers. I thank whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul.

“Invictus.” Noah whispered to him. “That’s the poem that she used to read. It was always her favourite. She used to read it to me when I was little, but she read it every day when she got sick. She said it made her feel strong.”

Their joined hands were a solid, unbreakable link between them and William felt the early evening wind ruffle his hair. “What did she look like?”

“She was beautiful. About my height but with this insanely long brown hair, pale, really pale skin and big brown eyes. Big heart. Beautiful soul. She could sing too, and she used to sit with me in the evenings on the couch and brush my hair or hold my hand and sing. She liked dong that a lot when she was really sick.” He choked on his tears. “She called me lovey. She told me I was the best gift that she had ever gotten.”

William’s own eyes burned and he blinked quickly, feeling his own mother’s phantom arms around him, recalled her favoured perfume and wondered how that absence must feel like for Noah. He stayed silent and let him keep talking. “I know that this is going to be hard to believe, but she never shouted at me, never got mad. She accepted me for who I was wholly, without reserve, and never ever made me feel like there was anything wrong with the way I was. She was just perfect, and I don’t know if it’s because it was just us two for so long but she was everything to me, you know? I needed her. She needed me. God, I fucking love her still and she’s gone. There’s nothing there, no hugs, no-one to call when I’m crying, nobody to stoke my hair and call me lovey anymore. She’s gone, Will. She’s just gone.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I fucked up.” Noah said, not even bothering to wipe away the tears. “I fucked up and I regret it every day.”

“Tell me.”

“I was seeing Jacob at the time. I told you what he was like, how he treated me, but I didn’t care. I loved him…or I thought I did. Things were bad at home. Mom was sick, Dad was struggling, and I needed an out. I needed an escape, so I clung to Jacob, needing him to kind of give me a release from my life falling apart. Mom was dying, but she still didn’t mind me spending time with Jacob because she just wanted me to be happy. She used to say that she wanted me to find a nice man to marry that would make me as happy as Dad made her.” Noah scoffed gently, but otherwise didn’t further address his mother’s words. “The day…it happened, I was at Jacob’s. Mom was in the hospital at this point and the day it happened I’d spent all morning with her, reading to her, and when she saw me get the text from Jacob to meet him at his house she told me to go have fun. And you know what?”

His heart as aching for Noah. He was bleeding. “What?”

“I left. I wanted to go. I didn’t want to stay because Jacob was nagging me to come over and I just wanted to leave. I was bored. Frustrated. Angry. With my own sick mother. I’m a fucking monster.”

“Noah, no-”

“I went to Jacob’s. He wasn’t out, so his parents weren’t at home. When I got there everything was fine for a while but then Dad started ringing me. I ignored the damn calls and fucked Jacob instead. In the middle his dad came home and we didn’t notice. He caught us in bed and went berserk. He dragged Jacob out of bed and threw my clothes at me, screaming the bloody house down. It was awful, and he was saying such horrible things-” Noah cut himself off, taking a sharp, shallow breath. “Anyway, I got dressed and his dad threw me out, and when he turned on Jacob and demanded that he explain what was happening Jacob told him I had asked to come over and fuck. He sort of made it out that I forced myself on him. Seduced him, maybe.” Noah laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I left. Called dad back. Turns out Mom had taken a turn. I got to the hospital just before died but she wasn’t really conscious. The nurse said she could hear me, but I don’t know if she did.”

The guilt in Noah’s voice, the self-hatred and the anger was near overwhelming, almost tangible. “I left my dying mom to go fuck a boy I knew didn’t love me or care about me. I…I didn’t get to say goodbye to her. I don’t know if she heard me.”

“Noah, baby…”

“I just wanted to say I was sorry.” Noah sobbed brokenly, “I just wanted to tell her that I was sorry, Will, because I don’t know if she heard me.”

“She did, baby, she did.” William said and pulled Noah into his arms tightly, letting him cry for as long as he needed to, soaking his shirt through. “She knows.”

William didn’t know how long they stood there like that, but the sun died and evening began to set in around them. They wouldn’t have much longer alone before Elijah would come looking for them. The world was waiting for them just beyond the hill at their backs, and when they crossed its crest they would have to face the consequences of what he and Noah had done back at school.

When they parted, William cupped Noah’s tear-stained face and kissed him again briefly, softly, gently, barely a whisper of lips. “Noah, I love you. Your mother loves you. Your father loves you. You are so loved, and if your mom was even half the woman that you described she wouldn’t you to feel this way, she wouldn’t want you to be so unhappy, so alone, baby. You. Are. Beautiful. Your mom’s beautiful soul lives on in you. Believe me.”

“I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done. I’m sorry for ruining us, Will, I’m sorry for not being strong enough.”

“Don’t be sorry. Please.”

Noah looked up at him, a realisation slowly dawning in his eyes. His lips turned down slightly. “Everything is going to change, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I think so. We’re both going to be in a lot of trouble.”

Noah bit his lip. “And us?”

“I love you, Noah.” William promised, but the little dark wound in his heart that Noah had put there still ached and he knew it couldn’t be ignored. “But we have lots to talk about. You’ve pushed me away. You isolated yourself, you didn’t trust me, and you scared me. I love you, Noah, but I’m going to need time. I’m sorry.”

Noah nodded, like he had expected it, but he didn’t cry or allow himself to slip back into the darkness. Instead he squeezed William’s hands, squaring his shoulders. “I’d wait a thousand years for you, William Dalton.”

Distantly William heard the sound of Elijah’s car door opening and he knew their time alone and outside of reality was quickly coming to an end. He turned back to the grave and looked at the headstone, trying to picture the woman that Noah had described and when he spoke, he tried to convey all of his love in his voice. “Thank you, Eloise, for bringing Noah into the world. Thank you for bringing him to me.”

Elijah’s footsteps were audible now at their backs and Noah took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at the sky. “I love you, Mom.”

William squeezed his hand, and then together they turned back to face Elijah, and to face everything they had left behind them.

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marculees · 6 years

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Soft Bias Tag <3

Tagged by the lovely @pikachulein, thank you! ^-^

Prepare for soft cringe. So because I’m selfish and lowkey narcissistic hahaha, I kinda have two so this is going to be a 2-in-1 yay. I haven’t even started yet and I’m already laughing?? Anyway lets go~

1. Who is my Bias?

💛 Jackson Wang

💜 Mark Lee

2. What made you notice him?

💛 His laugh, sense of humor and energy! It was contagious and I couldn’t help just OwO at him in every video lololol

💜 Lmao we have the exact same birthday so I was like omg yes finally someone I can relate to. So I looked up his profile and noticed we were basically the same person and was shook O.o

3. What’s your favorite thing about him?

💛 His heart of gold (aha get the emoji reference yeeeah i did that).He’s honestly such a kind and generous person and sjkglsgfdkjf he makes me cry. Like when I see him helping others or taking care of his members or his family especially, my heart skips a beat. He’s my ideal type tbh, as cringey as that sounds. Here’s an excerpt from a letter to my bias thing I have in my drafts cx

“Ideal types may be just a charade to some, but ultimately you are everything I want in a partner. Your kindness and generosity is one of my favourite things about you and is hugely underappreciated by others. How you always go out of your way to help others, be it strangers or loved ones, is so inspiring. You truly have a heart of gold and I feel like it isn’t said enough. Yes, you are fucking gorgeous and a huge idiot but its the kind soul underneath that I love most.”

💜 That he makes me feel more confident and loving towards myself <3

“I’ve always been the black sheep, odd one out, and I still struggle with finding others I can relate to. When I was in school I was friendly with everyone but with my friends I wasn’t really considered part of the group. I didn’t fit. I was an afterthought, an outsider. I’m in college now and while I do feel a sense of belonging with my new friends, with you I feel not just that but a sense of understanding, a sense of empathy NCT 2018. Since the very first day, I settled on biasing you for these probably selfish reasons alone. I was a kid back then, we both were. And now that we are barely considered adults, I am still following you. But my initial fascination has become much deeper than just that. The more I’ve fallen in love with you, the more I’ve begun to love myself also. You show and teach me things I’ve discredited or put down about about myself. The more interest I showed in you and your group, the more similar I realised we are. From our attitude, ethic, gestures, sense of humor and way of speaking, it became apparent to me that I had finally found someone. Someone who makes me feel like it’s okay to be who I am, because I am not alone. What I perceived as flaws in myself, I saw as endearing in you.”

*pukes from cringe at myself* I am never going to post the full thing

4. Who would initiate skinship more?

💛 HIM WITHOUT A DOUBT. He’s a touchy baby. Tbh it would probably piss me off slightly, like I’m just being honest ahaha. I don’t mind people touching my thigh or my arm for a second but he’s the type to just touch and then stay there lol

💜 Him too, I think. I’ve noticed he’s become a bit more touchy with the members recently! I’m not very touchy but if someone is more chill about it and doesn’t feel like its necessary or has to be like all the fucking time, then I’m more inclined to actually engage in it surprise surprise.

5. Who would hog the blankets more?

💛 I would say him but then I remember him saying he gets really hot at night (it was in one of those GOT2Days with JB lol). I get hot too so he can hog them if he wants cx

💜 He’s pretty chill, like so long as he has his pillow to hug then I don’t think he would mind much. I would insist on covering him up still though. I’m not a hogger at all, in fact usually I end up with literally half/no blanket in the morning because I’ve kicked it off at some point

6. Who would be more clingy?

💛 HIM. I honestly don’t think I need to explain XD

💜 Oooh tough question. I feel like it could be him? I would be more clingy on the inside, if that makes sense?

7. Who would say I love you first?

💛 I think it would be me but just as like a casual thing like, “Ahh you’re lucky I love you”. But he would take it serious and be like “...I love you too”. And then I’d get all giggly and embarrassed because that’s all I ever do T-T

💜 Maybe me? Idk like it would a kind of ‘in the moment’ thing? I’d be thinking it but I wouldn’t say it until I realised I actually had. I’ve done this before ;-;

8. Who would be more easily flustered?

💛 Me!!!! I bet that would be his favourite thing to do too. He’s such a little shit like he’d be all “Aww is someone all blushy?” and then make me even worse and kjdsgfldfmdsfg I would lowkey enjoy it tbh XD

💜 I think him actually! I wouldn’t be over-the-top romantic or cheesy so if I ever did something, it would catch him by surprise and make him uwu haha. I’m not the best at speaking my thoughts but I would write lots of poems and songs for him and I think that would make him get all flustered since he likes writing too c:

9. What cuddling position would you two have?

💛 Aww I honestly love backhugs so anything where I could just wrap my arms around him and lie against his back. The big spoon! But I feel like he would give the best hugs so like sitting in his lap with his arms around me and djkfhdjfhj fuck this shit I’m out T-T

💜 We’re both quite childish and awkward when it comes to cuddling so I feel like it would be just playwrestling and then forgetting that we’re supposed to wrestle so we just lie in a big tangle on top of each other ;-;

10. Which colors remind you of them and why?

💛 Yellow because his blonde hair is beautiful, plus he’s so bright and cheerful like the colour itself ^-^

💜 Pink! He looks adorable in pink plus he’s mentioned the colour a few times on broadcasts and stuff so I feel like he has a fondness for it~

11. Which season would you like to spend with them?

💛 Summer because he’s probably be sleeveless all the time or even shirtless... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I have no shame ahahaha

💜 Winter because I think if it was snowing, it would remind him of his home and then it would be cute af and we’d have a snowball fight and hot chocolate after <3

12. Who would bake the cookies and who would steal the batter?

💛 Tbh we’d bake and steal it together XD

💜 I think he would try so hard not to fuck the baking up but I’d tempt him into stealing the batter with me cx

13. Which one of you would make bad puns and how would the other react?

💛 Ohhh definitely me. And he’d either scream with laughter or just get pissed off oops. I’d just laugh even more though lmao

💜 We share the same sense of humor so it would be kinda mutual! I’d make a shitty pun and he makes an even worse one on top of that and then we end up getting into a spiral of awful puns and rhymes and before you know it we’ve written possibly the worst rap of all time

14. Who would want to adopt 50 dogs and cats?

💛 Me. I don’t want kids but I’m g with furbabies. 50 is a bit much though XD

💜 ^^^

15. Which one of you would nearly burn down the kitchen trying to microwave a pop tart and who would come to the rescue?

💛 I’d be the dumbass burning down the kitchen, no questions asked. He’d be having a heart attack and be screaming, like I can actually hear his scream right now just picturing it XD

💜 Oh dear, again it would probably be mutual... >.<

16. Who likes to lean over trail railings and who pulls them back?

💛 I’m really protective so I’d help steady him and make sure he doesn’t fall because we know how excited he gets XD

💜 ^^^ But I have seen him holding the members and looking out for their safety in general, so I think it would be him in this case actually~

17. What would watching a horror film with them be like?

💛 “This isn’t even scary. Like look, nothing is happening. Stop hiding behind the cushion, Niamh.” “THE MOTHERFUCKER IS RIGHT ON THE SCREEN, YOU LIAR. I HATE YOU.”

💜 “If you get scared, you can hold onto me” .“You mean, cuddle you because you’re scared, right?”. “Ah...yes, Niamh. Thanks.”

18. Who would be the cheesy flirt and who would be the smooth flirt?

💛 He’d be sooooo cheesy, like to the point where its not even flirting but just straight up cringey. I don’t flirt often but when I do, its like wow I see what you did there. But I’d get embarrassed around him so it would be less smooth and more stuttery unless I got a sudden burst of confidence. He would have no shame flirting though, like he legit would be the type to say “Omg damn girl, that ass” and I’d slap him XD

💜 Eww he’d be cheesy like he’d be walking around and see something and try make it a rap like in the LA vlog lmao. Something really dumb like “You’re so pretty, those flowers don’t compare because you have a cute face and nice hair” and I’d just be like “uhhh....thanks?” and burst out laughing and blushing out of secondhand embarrassment XD

19. Who is more competitive?

💛 We’re both so competitive but I think with his history in sporting competitions (whereas I was too shy to do them T-T), it would give him just a bit more. I’d always encourage him though, like I’d love seeing him try his best and would always ask if there was anything I could do to help. But if it came to games, I don’t take the “I let you win” excuse cx

💜 Me? I take my passions very seriously and throw myself into what I do, like I get VERY into my work. I was v competitive in debating and any time I hear the word challenge, its like yasss bring it on bish. Mark is competitive too but I think he’d prefer taking a support role. He’s so encouraging of his members and I honestly need a little cheerleader like him in my life ;-;

20. Who would be given constant reminders? (Don’t forget your keys, things like that)

💛 As much of a nagger I can be, I feel like he is the type to do this even at random moments. Like we’d be chilling together and then he’ll just say out of nowhere, “Did you eat lunch btw? I’m going to make you lunch”. He wouldn’t listen to any bullshit. He’d take care of me whether I liked it or not haha

💜 Hhmm kinda mutual here but for different things, if that makes sense? Like he’d be telling me to “take your meds and vitamins, bring a jacket, text when you get there”, etc. I’d be like “take a break for a few minutes, I’ll be there soon with some food”, etc, I need reminders for taking care of myself but I give reminders for others to take care of themselves lol

21. Who sends memes and who sends cute ‘i miss you’ texts at 3am?

💛 He’s the sappy bitch with “I miss you” texts haha and being the idiot I am, I would send him memes of himself in response XD

💜 Honestly, unless he was maybe drunk I think it would be me. Like it would very out of the blue and probably make him panic a bit oops. He’d write a long ass ride message in response though because he’d be so worried ^^’

This was very soft and cringey ahaha but I’m going to tag @jaexmins @cosmicrailwaybisexual @happysmilebtr @kikitsaaa @nctdoingthings @castielsinwhite @thefroghyungwon @seulgii-princess and if anyone else wants to do it then just say I tagged you XD

#tagged #soft bias tag #this was jfgfgdfmgd #too many feels #ult #twin

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mordor-valley · 7 years

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So I realised I tend to post on here every time I start seeing someone new; moreso when something’s going exceedingly well or disastrously bad for me. I think I actually just really like writing but I hate the idea of someone I actually know reading my words and forming some sort of judgment over them, especially since everything I write tends to be in the moment, incredibly raw and exactly how I’m feeling at that point in time.

Anyway, not to distract from the whole point of making this post; I have, in fact, met someone new. And it’s like parts of myself that have slowly been falling apart over the past few years are coming back together piece by piece. I’m reading poetry again, but not to give myself a reason for feeling pensive - I’m simply reading to enjoy. I’m actively seeking out love poems. I find myself no longer thinking about the boys of my past and wondering if they’re thinking about me. Not even in a ‘I don’t give a fuck what they’re doing with their lives because they hurt me’ sort of way, but actually just in a ‘they just don’t even occur to me anymore’ sort of way. They actually just don’t matter. The other night I was out with a lot of friends, my brothers and Charlie and I saw my ex. I instantly froze up because of the worry that whatever I do may cause him to think I either still had feelings for him or wasn’t over things or something ridiculous. Because let’s face it, it’s always going to be awkward when there’s an ex present. But the absolutely fantastic thing about the whole situation is that it honestly made no difference to my life whether my ex was there or not. It was the first time I’d seen him since we broke up, and considering that had ended over text it had been a while. But all i cared about was how it may make Charlie feel. And of course he noticed something was up and I wasn’t going to lie to him (I’ve not lied to him once and I intend to keep it that way), amazingly he pointed out exactly who it was straight away. I have absolutely no idea how he knew but somehow he did. I think it bothered him a little but I also have faith that he trusted it shouldn’t matter to either of us. He is irrelevant to my life now.

So. Charlie. I’ll start right from the beginning. I got a new job at a coffee shop in town. I remember my trial shift, and being shown around by one of the guys who work there, who was perfectly charming and quite funny - the trial gave me a very good impression of the place and when I was offered a job I accepted. Charlie was there that day, but very quiet and kept to himself. He seemed so moody and mysterious, which of course, only made me more intrigued. I think it must be this saviour complex I have, but there’s something about a moody guy. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like a guy to be down all of the time, but when I first meet them it’s almost like this craving to be that one person who can make them happy. Then once I’m with them, I want nothing more than their happiness. I don’t want them to be dependant on me to make them happy, but I like knowing I play a major part. I love when they have other friends and I’m not their only (that’s incredibly important, especially after certain experiences). Anyway, after that day I worked a few more shifts and just kept on noticing him laughing and joking with the guys, but always quite solemn at times. He always seemed so thoughtful. I wanted so badly to know what he was thinking about. At times i made effort to push myself into conversation, but got quite intimidated after a while and withdrew myself.

I’d been chatting to the guy who took me round on my trial shift. He was quite flirty, very chatty but so far - no spark. One day we were talking and he made one remark that was ever so subtly hinting towards sex or something of the sort. Now, after my experiences and things I’ve gone through this past year (i.e. being somewhat used by an absolute fuckwit), that was a pretty big alarm bell for me that he wasn’t right and it instantly turned me off of the idea of him (helpful since I never felt attracted to him anyway). And that was the end of that. I’ve never been happier for something to fizzle out because of what came next.

One day, after a particularly good shift at work I got home to see Charlie had commented on one of my pictures on instagram from a while back of my left thigh tattoo. I had captioned it ‘my love for tattoos will forever outweigh any boy’ and he replied ‘what about boys with tattoos?’ my heart swooned. I must have taken 20 minutes staring at my phone trying to figure out a witty reply. After this we got to chatting over instagram messenger, and eventually he asked for my number. I was dumbfounded. I hadn’t a clue he was even interested, but I’d been hoping he would ask all the same. Eventually he asked me on a date and of course I said yes.

All day before the date i was absolutely terrified. A few weeks prior to starting this new job I’d been on a date with someone who I’d met over tinder, I’d gotten drunk and slept with him. I fucking hate drunk sex. I felt like dirt the next day. I have a few ideas as to why I may hate drunk sex as much as I do; biologically it’s not often agreed with me, it makes me far louder and i end up feeling stupid the next day etc etc. But I think the main reason is what happened in first year with the guy I dated for a month. He fucked me about, and ultimately just took what he wanted from me - one day quite literally. Anyway, all day I’d been obsessing over whether I should sleep with him or not. I knew we’d be drinking on the date, but I also knew I liked him and that I shouldn’t not sleep with him just for the sake of not doing it. I decided if I was in the moment and I wanted to, then I would. But if at any point in time I felt like I was going to do it just because of ‘social etiquette’ (stupid, i know) then I wouldn’t. The date went fantastically despite being nervous beforehand. We couldn’t stop talking, everywhere we went was too loud because we just wanted to get to know each other. Eventually he asked if I wanted to go back to his (nothing seedy, we’d been talking for a while about a room in his house he’d been decorating and I said I’d like to see it sometime), I obliged and was still insistent in my head that no sex was going to happen. When we got to his, once again we couldn’t stop talking. I thought how wonderful it was that he wanted to know so much about me. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t made any sort of move yet, not one single thing to give me concern for his motives. We were sat on his bed for what felt like hours just talking. Eventually, I decided to make the first move, and quietly uttered “sorry” before basically lunging on the poor boy. But it just felt so right, and it turned out to be the sort of kissing where you literally can’t get enough of the other person. You just have to have them right there, right then and you never want to stop touching them, feeling their weight on top of you and their breath on your neck. The sex was fucking fantastic. Surprising, too, considering I was tipsy and he was a little too. The only problem; as soon as the sex had finished, and I’m talking maybe 3 seconds after while he’s still physically inside me I blurt out “you’re not going to fuck and chuck me are you?” Shit. What a fucking idiot. I really like this guy. He looked so confused, almost hurt. I proceeded to ask if he wanted me to leave, quietly hoping he’d ask me to stay. He did. The next morning was wonderful, we laid in bed and talked and kissed and cuddled for hours.

Our next date he cooked for me. Actually fucking put effort in and cooked a decent meal. I crumbled so hard. I told him all about my weird aversion for wooden spoons which he of course made fun of me for but he also promised not to tell anyone and then let me take his spot on the sofa. We had such a wonderful evening talking and cuddling. We also had sober sex. The first time I’d had sober sex in a good few months and it was fucking incredible, I can’t even describe. He makes me feel like I’m the sexiest woman alive and there’s no reason he would ever want anyone else. I haven’t felt like that with a guy in some time. The next morning he made me a cafetière and avocado and eggs on toast. The guy is a fucking dream. I told him all about my family and in all honesty; I told my family all about him.

I decided I’d cook for him, and I made him a pie that had gone down well in the past with others. I forgot to mention he’s veggie too (absolute fucking result) I prepped so much for that damn pie but it paid off because he loved it. There’s been quite a few dates now i think about it. I’ll write about one of my favourites in particular, now.

We decided to stop being lazy and staying in all the time and go to the pub to have a few pints and play pool. Or rather, watch him thrash me at pool, but I tried all the same. We played a couple games, then went outside and sat on the benches and chatted through the humidity. This is where I found out he was serious about me, and I told him I was serious about him, but that I wanted to take things slow because I’ve been so quick to rush into things before and of course they ended badly. He said he’d be more than happy to call me his girlfriend if that’s what I wanted too. I said it is, but not yet. There’s so much he needs to find out about me before he can make that sort of decision. I got a little more tipsy and told him I’d been sexually assaulted by an ex, but that I’d explain the details at another time. He was amazing upon hearing this news. I remember telling the last guy, and he just got angry and left and it felt like he was angry at me. Not Charlie, he’s so different from anyone I’ve ever met and it’s amazing. I decided I wanted to go for a walk because I wasn’t ready for the date to end just then. It started raining but if anything that made me want to go more. There’s something about rain that’s just so pacifying. I don’t know what it is about Charlie, but he makes me want to do things that may seem out of character, but in reality are unadulteratedly and impenitently myself. We had sex right in the middle of Hyde Park that night, right there in the rain and the dirt and the freshly cut grass. It was fucking glorious.

Another night we spent together we thought it would be fun to take MD and play music crazy loud and tell each other how much we adored the other. I told him the details of what happened those years ago and I took all my make up off and completely stripped myself of everything I usually hide behind. No eyeliner wings, no guarded wall, no acting like i’m not a hopeless romantic or some hard faced ice queen like i have in the past. I felt as if I bared my soul to him that night, and he did nothing but love me for it.

The night of my graduation from University he met my brothers and one of my closest friends. I think that evening was the happiest I’d been in months. This guy, who’s barely been in my life for five minutes so genuinely cares about me and wants to make a real effort with the people I care about, too. Charlie made more effort to get to know my brothers than Mike did in the entire year I was with him. It made my heart so happy to see my three guys getting along so well. Beth adores him. I adore him. I can’t wait for him to meet my mum and watch the horrific puns get thrown around.

Update - we’re living together. I’m so happy and more in love than ever.

#personal

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kkmcdmdm-blog · 7 years

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School (3rd week)

Rock snapchat filter even if you’re stressed af! Well, I don’t look stressed here but tbh, I am.

I was currently making a draft for my diary and also for my blog. I’ve been sitting in front of the screen of our laptop for an hour because I really couldn’t think right now. P!ATD, Mayday Parade, Fall Out Boy and Halsey were hitting my playlist and to be honest, I couldn’t concentrate. My head was banging and the lyrics were automatically coming out from my mouth.

So okay, let me start this one by greeting your father a belated happy father’s day. Last Sunday was the celebration of father’s day but based on what I observed, many people didn’t greet their father or they were just shy to greet them and say how thankful they are to have a father like them. Don’t be shy to say sweet words to your father because they’d think no one appreciates them. Say ‘I love you’ to them because that was my biggest mistake in my entire life. I didn’t have the chance to say those words because I was contented on having him by my side. Now that he’s gone, the ‘I love you’ was left hanging.

The highlight of this week was me being dramatic in front of my classmates. Well, I really didn’t mean to burst out crying in front of them and our adviser. It’s just that, the feelings I was trying to the hide, the emotions, I couldn’t handle them anymore. I couldn’t tell it to anyone since I don’t know how to explain it through words. I am not good at expressing my emotions orally so once I am feeling something, I either write a poem or write it in the diary on my phone. Plus, I only have few friends. Yep, you could say I have so many friends out there and I am the one who don’t consider them as one but let me tell you this, I have this feeling where I could know if you are considering me as your friend or just an acquaintance. I know if you’re being true to me or not. I don’t know, it sucks to have this kind of feeling but it feels so good too because I can identify those real ones to and those fakes. I remember when all of my classmates in Grade 9 already knew that I am an atheist. Those ‘friends’ of mine immediately disappeared. They thought I was an anti-christ. All of them, including the teacher, they looked like as if they wanted to throw me out of class. They bombarded me a lot of questions. Some theists insisted their beliefs. Some were close-minded, some were open and curious. Well, I was just being true. I wasn’t obliged to explain my side to them as long as I am not doing anything that could put someone to danger.

Our teacher in Values tackled IQ and EQ and what would you enhance. Everyone recited and shared why they chose either IQ or EQ or both. I recited and chose EQ because I really am not good at socializing. I remember most of my relatives labelled me as an anti-social one and even said that I wouldn’t be successful in life because of this trait. Before, I was okay being alone. During my school days in Grade 8, I really had no friends since most of my classmates were mad at me because of being tactless. Once I wanted to say something, I would tell it to you no matter what. Since I had no friends back then, all of my feelings, the emotions were all earned up. I know it was my fault, okay? I experienced going to a site named omegle just to find someone to confess my feelings with. I experienced cutting my wrist too. You know what? I didn’t feel pain but I felt like I was in a paradise. I thought those people who do it were crazy and attention seeker. That’s when I knew what it felt like. Grade 8 days felt like hell. I felt so outcasted. I thought no one loved me and couldn’t accept me for who I was. If you’re going to ask where my family was, they were all busy. I am the youngest in the family. I was left alone in our house. You could call me insane because of this but at least that was just before. That’s the reason why I want to improve more my socializing skills.

This week, we had our second vocabulary quiz and for the 2nd time, I got a perfect 10. I didn’t have the chance to share my trivia to class since I always got rejected. But hey, I recited a tongue twister for the 2nd time around.

You know the story of Daedalus and Icarus? I read it twice just to understand the story. Lol. I shared this to one of my classmates and he said that he read it twice as well because he didn’t get it at first. That story was interesting. I admit, I didn’t find mythology an interesting one. I don’t know, maybe because I just don’t like it? But because of this story, I am starting to be interested. My favourite Greek goddess is Artemis and she was the goddess of stars. She was also the twin sister of Apollo. I like stars and any other things that compose the solar system and I like archery as well. Since I mentioned stars and solar system, I want to share my very first dream and that is to become an astronaut. You may laugh as long as you want just like what others do but I think this would not be fulfilled so I would end up being a reporter or a lawyer.

Most of our teachers informed us that there would be a change of schedule starting next week. At first, I thought they were referring to change of time because of the word ‘schedule’ but when they stated that there would be a chance that our teachers now wouldn’t be our teacher next week, we got shookt. If this would happen, this would be unfair to us. It’s been three weeks and we already showed off in some of our subjects then all of those efforts would just be put into waste? The heck, no. Stop shitting around us, please.

If there was a teacher whom I want to be changed, that is our teacher in Science. Among all of our subject teachers, she is not that good in teaching. I know every teachers have an own techniques in teaching and to catch everyone’s attention. But in her case, I know she always does her best just to teach what she knows and fill us with knowledge but she lacks in techniques. She fails to catch everyone’s willingness. How did I say so? I observed my classmates and most of us were talking to our seatmates when she talks. I admit, I am one of those students. I know once a teacher reads this, they would be hurt for her. I didn’t mean to hurt her feels or any teacher’s, this is just my opinion. I’m sorry.

We had a group activity in Filipino. It was about making symbols with stones. In the first activity, we got the lowest score. One of my members, the one who explained, cried. I am the leader but I didn’t get mad on what we got because in the second time, we stepped up and got the highest score. After that subject, I approached her and asked her why she cried. She blamed our other member who was supposed to be the one who’d explain. That was when I got irritated. Well, I was fine with what we got but blaming others because of your own action? I didn’t put the blame on her in the first place because I understood what her point was. She willingly accepted it. She didn’t fulminate. So what’s with the sudden action?

Okay, calm down [/breathes in and out;

We also had a group presentation in MAPEH and I just danced like this was really embarrassing! My body doesn’t know how to dance, the eff! So because I don’t know how, as expected, I was the second one who got the lowest score in our group. I envy those people who know how to dance. To be honest, my sister was a dancer and I told her to teach me how to but she is lazy so she rejected me. I really hate MAPEH especially when there’s a dancing part [/rolls eyes; I looked like a dancing stick. Good thing I didn’t wear my glasses that time so they were all blurry. Lol.

Let’s move on from the topic and let’s talk about journalism. Remember the sentence I wrote on the second entry of your paper, you who-must-not-be-named? The ‘I wanna banner the name of our school. But I think, writing isn’t really for me. Goodluck to those journalists who’ll banner the name of our school.’? I am proudly telling you that I am still part of Journalism team this year! Clap your hands, yehey! To be honest, when I heard my name being mentioned, I had goosebumps. I wanted to burst in tears of joy but tears went back in my eyes so nevermind. Lol. I really was happy that even when in the journalism room and during the training, I was high. I can’t contain my feels omg. I promise to give my best here. This is my last year in BSHS so better give my best.

1 week to go and July will start. Time ticks so fast. I gotta enjoy this year since I would be in Grade 11 next year. I would miss the school, the teachers as well and of course my classmates and friends. Remember when former students of BSHS shared some advices? They told us to enjoy junior high school because Grade 11 is far way different from Grade 10. They also told us that junior high school friends cannot be replaced. I don’t want this school year to end. I know everything has an end. Everything changes. The only constant thing here in the world is change so don’t be surprised. I can’t imagine myself in Grade 11. Why time runs so fast when we want it to slow down? What if Albert Einstein’s time machine was finished, would you go back to time?

PS: 3rd week survived! (This was supposedly posted last Sunday but I really was busy with my school works so better upload this late than never)

All the love from,

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dear--charlie · 7 years

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Dear Charlie,

January 21st, 2017. That’s when we broke up. Today is April 21st of the same year. I’d like to know if this is too long of a gap to still be in love with him. It’s been 3 months but a few weeks less than that since the last time he told me loved me. I’m pretty sure that was the 26th of February. When the sickness to his best friend and the tragedy wedged a gap between him and I. Missing him makes me feel so selfish. We talked two weeks ago. I think the only way I’ll get over him is if I talk about him. I hope that’s alright. Getting it out would help me let go. Well, here goes nothing.

August 3rd, 2016. That’s when we first really spoke. Even if it was just texting.

I could lie and say I fell for his lovely smile or magnificent eyes which made me fall for him. But like I said, that’d be a lie. It was his laugh, made of silver bells, and the sense of humor behind it. That sense of humour brought out my own laugh. It was his voice, too. His voice was calm, ideally raspy and smooth at the same time, the perfect pitch for the comfort I found in it. I remember–before I felt for home–one night, he called me, I was laying in my driveway looking at the moon. He asked me to play a game with him. The “game” was to name five things we liked about each other. He effortlessly told me everything he enjoyed about me. The aforementioned things–his laugh, his voice and sense of humour–were first out of my mouth. Of course, I eventually said his personality and another thing I don’t remember. Whatever he said is lost on me for the most part–he said he liked my style and laugh and smile and eyes other things. I think.

A few days later he asked me to be his girlfriend. I asked him if I could just have a day to think about it. I didn’t want to turn him down when he was the first one to gather the courage to call me rather than just text. The next morning, I turned him down. I said how I wasn’t ready for a new relationship, having just left a very toxic one–at the time he didn’t know but he was why that person was no longer in my life. He was okay with it. He took it less as a blow to his pride but more as an excuse to better himself. He asked what he could do to get me to like him when I explained I just didn’t feel the same. I felt safe when he told me that he wasn’t mad I didn’t love him back. That was around the 20th of the same month. August. I explained why I didn’t. It wasn’t him. Not at all. It was that toxic person, they’d ruined me. I needed time to just get myself back before I could like another. “I’ll wait for you, you’re worth it.” That’s what he told me. Right now I’m tearing up because of this. Because he loved.

Then my birthday came-the 25th-and he was one of the first boys who cared enough to wish me a happy birthday. I felt guilty for not feeling the same. He’d all these lovely things about him and I wanted to like him. But I couldn’t. Would you like to know my very favourite? It was this aura he had. When we spoke on video chat with my friend next to me-he’d called her and this night is the reason we ever fell I think. See, like I said, the feel of him. Ever run down a beach or a hill and when you stop, you can’t breathe but you couldn’t smile more? It’s like that. Only not entirely. The best way to put it is, I felt like he wanted to take me by the hand and pull me along on some adventure and leave me a breathless type of happy.

The same friend and I kissed a few nights later. September first. And we told him. He didn’t mind because we weren’t dating. That was the first night he and I video chatted alone. He kept telling me I was beautiful even though half my face was swollen because I’d had oral surgery a few days before.

Then it was late September. A few leaves had started changing but it was still warm enough for me to go to cross country practice in shorts. Probably about the 15th. I remember because my coach was talking about making groups for homecoming which was two weeks away (October first). Then about a day later I made homecoming plans with my friends. We’d have pizza at my house instead of going out. About two hours after than, he wanted to videochat. We did. He told me he needed to ask me something. When I said go ahead. He smiled, and told me this poem he wrote about the stars and the last line was how he asked me to go to homecoming with him. He looked very handsome when he asked. He had a red lava lamp on next to him and that was all. I went to make sure my friends didn’t mind. When they didn’t and I said yes, his face lit up. Mine did too. I blushed. That’s the first time I ever have. He did too. I think that’s why he’d that red lamp on: so I wouldn’t know if he blushed. I told him not to get me flowers, which he did anyways. A bouquet of pink-purple roses. I pressed one and it’s on my bulletin board with photos from that night. We kissed multiple times. I remember most vividly when I’d accidentally gotten a Diet Coke and I’d drank it anyways. “You taste Diet Coke.” He told me after kissing me. I apologized. He laughed a bit and kissed me again. We slow danced and talked and didn’t know words any of the songs.

He cared Charlie. He cared the way you care about people. Unconditionally.

A few weeks later, I let him see me. Y'know, like that. And because I still hadn’t gotten over what happened earlier that year, sometimes I’d get anxious. He’d be patient and calm me down. “Your being okay matters more to me than my own pleasure.” That’s what he said. He took time with me. He wanted to know what I liked and what I didn’t. He respected me too.

I think when he kissed me and said I tasted like diet soda is when I really fell in love with him. I’m leaving things out from this point on because I’m very tired and don’t want to keep typing. Anyways. I hope you have a good day. And this hopefully helped.

Love always, the loneliest star (4/21/17)

#dear charlie

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cannibalhouse · 7 years

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RDC3 Personal Highlights (spoilers: feels!)

So it’s been a few days since RDC3 and I still have not finished processing all the emotions. But I wanted to post my personal con highlights while they’re still fresh in my memory. Brace yourselves--it’s going to be a long one!

Firstly, let me get a few basics out of the way. It was beyond wonderful to see my wonderful fannibal family again. Truly, you guys make my life better every day in every imaginable way. In fact, my only real regret is that I was running around like a mad woman on a mission all weekend, and didn’t spend as much time with friends old and new as I wanted to. I didn’t even give out many of my posters! I hope you all forgive me <3

I got a chance to meet a couple of my favourite artists, @camilleflyingrotten and @theseavoices - I think I kept my cool and didn’t fangirl too hard. I also briefly ran into @bansheegrahamtao who sadly did not throw wine at me again, I was very disappointed :P

I would also like to thank everyone for all the amazing and thoughtful gifts and swag I came away with--including a beautiful handmade scarf from one of my dear friends. I will cherish it all, and plan to plaster the art all over the walls when @the-winnowing-wind and I officially move in together this month.

Onto the guests, who were all fantastic. Ellen seemed lovely, though I missed her solo q&a on Sat because I was stewarding. Demore was an absolute delight and so, so funny and sweet! Scott and Aaron were on their ‘best behaviour’ after their shenanigans at the first con... So naturally this translated into 50 Shades of Hannibal, featuring such scenes as Scott wearing Hannibal’s actual collar from ‘Digestivo’, Scott in high heels pretending to be Hannibal while Aaron as Will cried and smacked him with a riding crop, Aaron on his belly kissing Scott’s feet, and an actual adorable kiss. Love these guys so much. Myself and the co-writer of CopCop also had a chance to explain the upcoming comic to them, and they seemed excited at the prospect so watch this space!

(We’ll talk about Bryan in a little bit. I have a lot to say about Bryan.)

Hugh Dancy was just such a friendly, genuine person, and he seemed to have such a great time the whole weekend. He was so up for everything, dressing up with Bryan for the costume contest, doing all the crazy poses in photos... Speaking of which:

I said ‘I’m going to freak out’ because my mind went blank and I couldn’t think of a funny pose. Bryan said ‘should we freak out too?’ and then Hugh... Oh Hugh. There are no words for how much I love this picture.

I sadly missed the fannibal musical because I was taking part in the costume contest, but let me say that I’m so proud of everyone involved, and really grateful that I got to contribute in small small way with a few illustrations in the booklet. I’ve heard the performance was beyond amazing!

As for the costume contest, everyone looked amazing. In what is becoming a weird con tradition, the Chesapeake Stripper made a return, despite her utter terror at doing that in front of Hugh and Bryan. Luckily, she was joined by a friend--the fearless and fabulous @violetdebauched as the Stripper!Will to my Stripper!Hannibal. The pictures I’ve seen of the guests’ faces are amazing, and I’ve heard Hugh’s jaw dropped when Stripper!Will came out. And even though I ever so slightly... fell over in my stripper heels... right in front of my idols... Well, we looked fierce :P

I’d also like to share a pic of my Hannibal vinyl which I’ve had signed this con and last, and which now bears the sentiment ‘Great Stripping’ from Mr Aaron Abrams. This is the kind of positive affirmation I need in my life ha ha!

Now. Let’s talk about Bryan. Sit down, we’ll be here a while.

I’ll start by saying I had a few moments with Bryan that I can’t talk about publicly, either because they were deeply, deeply personal, or because they relate to something which may happen in the future but I don’t want to jinx it.

Bryan was just a bundle of energy and enthusiasm and love the entire weekend. From yelling ‘I want to crowd-surf!’ and going running around the hall slapping high fives, to signing autographs on Sunday for 8 freaking hours straight without taking a break (except to do the closing ceremony, and going straight back to it), he was just incredible. He was just so excited to see everyone and could not be stopped from jumping out of whatever he was supposed to be doing to take selfies or snap a pic of someone’s costume or tattoo (he took a pic of my arm ha ha!).

Speaking of his marathon autograph session, I stewarded it the whole time (3.30pm-11.30pm, phew!) and I don’t think he stopped smiling once that entire time. He was insistent on spending time with each and every person and it was a real delight to witness. Towards the end of the session, when there were only a few dozen people left, I remembered I had some of these posters in my bag and handed them out to the people queuing to spark some conversation with them, since we were all tired by then. I went back to guarding the door, when a fannibal ran up to me and said Bryan wanted one of the posters--he’d seen someone holding it, but I don’t think he knew where it had come from. I didn’t have any left on my person, so the lovely fannibal gave hers back and the staff let me slip it onto Bryan’s table (lovely fannibal, if you’re reading this, let me know who you are and I’ll send you a replacement and something pretty to say thank you!). Sadly, this almost ended in tears because one person at the end of the queue did something shockingly spiteful and unkind which resulted in Bryan losing the poster... I won’t go into details because it’s not worth the drama. But thanks to the kindness of the staff, and possibly because I have good karma, we got him a spare and he told me he wants to frame it. I don’t know if he will, but it was so sweet of him to say I just cried! That was the second time he made me cry that day! As for the first time...

As many of you know, I was compiling a fan book for Bryan featuring art, letters, poems, and pictures from fannibals all over the world. I got around 200 submissions, so thank you all so much for making that happen! Bryan already knew about the book because he somehow found my post on Twitter, and had said he was super excited. Boy was he excited.

I spent weeks working on the book, culiminating in two sleepless nights before the con feverishly finalizing the proofs, and sent it off to the printer Thursday morning. Kudos to my printers for hearing a frantic fannibal on the phone begging them to rush the order and doing such a great job of it! It arrived at the hotel shortly I did on Friday, and I began taking it around for people to sign and write messages on the inside covers. After all, I had titled it the Fannibal Yearbook, so that seemed appropriate. Thank you all for the enthusiastic and heartfelt response!

On Saturday morning, I had a photo with Bryan and decided to get one of us holding the book, because I was really attached to it by now and wanted something to remember it by. Bryan’s face lit up when he saw it and he said he’d been looking forward to it, but I told him he couldn’t have it yet and shouldn’t look at it! He said he loved it already and squeezed me after we’d taken the picture:

On Sunday, with the book now chock-full of messages for him, I decided the best time to present it to him would be during his q&a panel with Hugh, so everyone could enjoy his reaction (it wasn’t my book, so many people made it possible and they all deserved to share that moment). I got in line, and when I got to the mic and told him we’d like to present him the book, his reaction was amazing. He grinned and said something like ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all weekend! It’s the last day of the con and I thought, where’s my book, I want my book!’ Then he hopped down off the stage to take it, and gave me a huge hug.

(photo by @solamentenic on Twitter, whose tumblr name momentarily escapes me!)

(Photo by Naomi Roper Photogaphy)

I believe what happened next was Bryan thanking everyone for all their lovely art and letters, etc... But I was suddenly very emotional and didn’t want him to see me cry (again, that resolve lasted all of about 10 hours) so I went back to my seat and had a wee sob. Thanks to the person who gave me a tissue!

I hope he loves the book, and maybe he will tweet some pictures at some point! Then earlier today, someone sent me a link to these pictures on the Starfury Instragram account:

These pictures were already EVERYTHING. And then I noticed which page they were looking at in the first picture. It’s this one:

The one in the bottom right corner that Hugh seems to be looking/pointing at? That’s a piece of my own art that I included: The Brides of Hannibal pastiche poster, aka my favourite thing I’ve ever drawn. I don’t know if they’re looking at the same page in the second picture, but that reaction is so beautiful and pure that, whatever caused it, it’s giving me life! Just think guys--we made Bryan throw his head back laughing, we did it! High five!

I’m going to wrap it up there because this has taken 3 hours to write already, even though I’m definitely forgetting about 100 amazing things that happened. Thank you all for the hugs, the gifts, the laughs, and just basically for being the most lovely and caring group of people I’ve ever had the privilege of associating with. I love you all, and I can’t wait until we dine together again!

Yours totally functional and more or less sane,

Sam xx

(p.s. I think I’m right in saying Bryan confirmed Will and Hannibal are switches?? This makes me suuuuuper happy)

#personal #rdc3 #red dragon con 3 #starfury #hannibal con #hannibal #bryan fuller #hugh dancy #demore barnes #aaron abrams #scott thompson #ellen muth

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whats-the-story-tc · 4 years

Text

7th of February, 2020

"The One Where We Find Each Other (and Don't Stop Looking)"

[LONG AS FUCK SORRY I HAD A BIT OF A DAY]

As I came to school in the morning, I met one of the boys who's in the play I'm doing, and asked me about rehearsal. Now, I didn't know there was rehearsal today in the first place, so I immediately rushed up to the teachers' lounge to find A and ask her. And in the process of looking for one of the women I can never find when I'm looking for her, I crossed paths with the other one.

V came out grinning and sat down at one of the computers. But as I was about to turn around and walk away, she asked me "What's wrong, Specs?", and I told her I was looking for A. "I don't think you should look for A much this early. Is it really-really urgent?" I replied that I just wanted to clear up a bit of a misunderstanding, so it wasn't really that urgent. "I'll tell her [you were looking for her] when I see her." With the biggest grin on my face, I thanked her and ran off. A arrived about 5 minutes later. I guess I owe her one for this.

I went into V's class a bit later in quite the bad mood. The second rehearsal beforehand didn't go quite as well. I'm never nervous when it's a bunch of strangers watching me, but in front of my classmates, with that cousin of mine who loves to criticise me at any given occasion, my head was full, and I couldn't seem to concentrate. Luckily, V gave me something to think about — metonymy and synecdoche. See, the thing I love about Grammar is that even though I speak my native tongue fluently, and use it every day, there are so many things I don't know yet. Even now, 8-9-ish hours later, I feel excited. This, now this is my kind of stuff, the things we use every day without a second thought, the things that are bare essentials to everyday speech and we don't even know we're using them, and how diversely it can be used. Good Lord am I glad to be taught by someone like V. I would never have got so invested without her. (So invested that I even stopped writing this post just to add a few things to my class notes. Jesus, Specs, nerd much?)

But, as we know here on @/whats-the-story-tc, a class with V isn't really a class without memorable quotes. When she started explaining what a synecdoche is to us, she told us that it's possible to describe a person by referring to them only by one of their body parts. Silence fell for a few seconds, a very knowing silence. Everyone in the room was thinking the same thing, but nobody dared to say it. Then V asked us to find a non-vulgar example. She's a cold-hard professional, so she didn't say what we were all thinking, like our Chem teacher did yesterday in a similar situation, but this kinda confirmed it that Pocketwatch Friend and I weren't the only ones with "dick" on our minds. That sounded so wrong I'm so sorry-----------

We also covered symbols today, and, as she explained unique symbols invented by certain poets, that may mean dozens of different things, she brought up her favourite ironic "What do the blue curtains symbolise?" question. "For one, it's about longing for their lover, for the other, about their life's worries, and for the third, about having run out of milk."

After class, I trodded up to her just before she left to ask her to clarify something about synecdoches. "So we can describe a whole with a part—" "—and vice versa." she finished my sentence just as I was saying it, although I worded it differently. As they say, great minds think alike. Or I'm just very predictable. Depends.

Lunch break before sixth period, I'm talking with my friends. I don't exactly remember what the context was, but we were joking around and V came up. Debate Friend said "V has no emotions." I could hear the Kill Bill alarms sounding in my head, even though I am and was fully aware she was joking. I took a deep breath and lead her out into the corridor to talk it through. We all know, even on here, that V is someone rather deeply emotional, just doesn't like to show it. I've known since last June. Debate Friend told me V and I are alike in this regard. Well, what can I say? Us lovers of literature really do have the softest hearts. But I told her that we do show it, all the time, every little thing, even if we wouldn't like to, you just have to know a person enough to know where to look. Like they know me and I like to think I know V.

To further prove my statement, I told Debate Friend about one of the posts from V's late SNS account. I don't want to talk about it much, as I don't feel like it would be right, but let me just say... while I was laughing or at least smiling at most of her feed, this one almost made me cry. Caption and picture alike. I finished the story just in time, cuz the next minute, Debate Friend warned me that V was coming, probably so I wouldn't say anything I shouldn't in front of her. I looked back in surprise, only to notice that she really was coming our way, and when I looked at Debate Friend again, we both broke out in hysterical laughter, as V passed us by. I wonder what she was thinking.

As I was photographing the progress I made with my painting later, V came in and set her stuff down on the desk before our second class of the day with her, immediately leaving after. A couple minutes later, when I went outside, I happened upon her, as she was all curled up on the stairway right beside our classroom with her phone, like some students are. Bless. She was beyond adorable.

All I'm gonna say is, the introduction to the literature of Russian romanticism and Pushkin wasn't what kept me occupied while V was speaking. The afternoon sun was coming in through the windows, and I let myself get a little lost in those ever familiar eyes again. With her usual eyeshadow, it was quite the sight, especially when the light hit her face directly. Good Lord.

It being seventh period, the Boys in the Back were even noisier than usual. When V had had enough, she just went ahead and slammed her hand against the blackboard to quiet them, something she hasn't done in a while. I admit, I jumped a little. She's really bloody strong, you guys.

One of the girls in my class learns Russian outside school, and, because she was really enthusiastic and really wanted to write some things on the board, V went ahead and let her. I understood some of it, cause I can read cyrillic (I was very bored this one afternoon), but not cursive, so... yeah. Then Blonde Boy in the Back started complaining about why anyone would learn Russian, and V stepped the fuck up and said "Well, I still think it's cooler to learn Russian than to bitch about others in English class." LADIES AND GENTLEMAN AND NON-BINARY PEOPLE, THIS WOMAN IS A FUCKING LEGEND.

And here is where the crazy part comes.

The people start coming and they don't stop comin' to V to recite the poem, us others are waiting for the bell to ring. The first girl does quite well, but at the end, V grins and teasingly tells her "Managed to get the ending wrong?" That's when she first looked me in the eyes.

"Come, [Name], enchant me" she tells the next victim coming her way. Later, our eyes meet again.

And again.

And again, now with a pen still hanging from her mouth. No joke. I kept tabs.

The bell rings, and the people start leaving. I'm staying behind, to wait for Art Friend (who is the same girl as the one I named Flower Friend in earlier posts, I just forgot the pseudonym I gave her) and Debate Friend. As I do, I walk around, sit down, stand up, do random shit, and sometimes check my phone.

So I'm less bored, I go up to V while she's listening to someone and ask her "Should I clean the board?" (I know she's a multitasker so I wouldn't throw her off.) She turns to me with big, shiny eyes, and a gentle, nearly childlike expression as if I just offered her something groundbreaking and tells me "Thanks." It's not like my classmates didn't proceed to draw shit on it once I wiped it clean, but an effort has been made. For those eyes, it was well worth it. And, as I was wiping, I caught her absent-mindedly fiddling with the paintbrushes my Art teacher forgot on the desk. You guys... how was I ever afraid of this woman?

Cynical Twat came next, and he was trying to win himself time so he didn't have to go to IT class (half the class has it on Friday, my half on Wednesday), so he was pretending to think and walk around and generally be super slow. I don't think I've ever seen V laugh so much. Me and Debate Friend were giggling as well, but honestly, V looked just generally really relaxed and happy as she grinned, and couldn't stop smiling. This is probably the point where she was so tired everything suddenly felt even funnier than it is. Been there.

Another friend from the other class showed up then and took my place, and Art Friend told me "You can go back to her." I did a double take. We were in the doorway and the bloody door was open! "[Art Friend], we don't declare these things out loud!" I told her. She looked surprise. "I was talking about [Debate Friend]." Oh. Right. Yeah.

So I went back in. According to my phone notes, we met eyes again.

Then again, when I decided to sit on the ground. She looked down at me, I immediately looked away, a smile creeping up my lips before I could stop it. If she needed any assurance about my feelings, which I'm quite sure she suspects... this was it.

As she listened to Art Friend, she was sat in her chair hugging both her knees. When you'd think she couldn't find stupider positions to sit in...

The friend with the Russian affinity read us a bit of... something in Russian while a very nervous Debate Friend prepared. V and I were both thrown off, as neither of us speaks it, and the sheer 'how does she do that' of the situation made us both laugh in surprise. As we did, we found each other's eyes again, and again a few seconds later. "I don't even know where the words end," said V. Apparently, we shared another look, according to what I wrote.

Debate Friend really struggled with that poem, and nearly gave up after the second verse. V was really concentrating, forehead wrinkling. She wanted her to get it right. "Jesus, kitten, what's got into you? At least let's get one half of it done!" And eventually, though, as V said "it really hurt", Debate Friend did manage to wrestle her way through the poem. As she did, V kept herself busy organising the paintbrushes on the desk neatly with this absent-minded smile, while I crouched at the desk beside hers and spared her the occasional look sometimes. And as she was trying to decide on a grade to give Debate Friend, she bit her lip. I don't think I've ever seen her do that before. I didn't know what I was missing.

"Take care of yourselves!" she told us as she was leaving, and I immediately responded with a "You too, Miss!", cuz when could I shut up? She grinned as she was walking away.

I saw her once after that, outside, as I was walked out the gates listening to Florence + The Machine — one of the songs I dedicated to V, no less. There she was, same cuffed jeans, same low-cut boots, all wrapped up in a dark coat, walking away in another direction, hair flying. I stayed and watched until she disappeared out of sight from where I was standing, then I proceeded to walk home all giddy, nearly in tears.

I don't think I've ever been this in love before.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

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