i can’t understand ppl who hate rats. “their tails are creepy!! there’s no fur on them!!!” ??? you don’t have fur on most of your creepy ass body either. “THEY HAVE LITTLE PEOPLE HANDS” YOU HAVE LITTLE PEOPLE HANDS TOO, stop hating. you’re weak. look at their sweet faces. they just want to love u.
Title: there’s this girl Fandom: miraculous ladybug Rating: K+ Characters: Ladybug (Marinette), Queen Bee (Chloe) Summary: Queen Bee has a secret. It’s not what Ladybug thinks.
“So there’s this girl.”
Ladybug cocked her head and stared at her friend with wide
eyes, mouth falling open to say something, but the look on Queen Bee’s face
stopped her in her tracks. Bottom lip caught between her teeth, gaze heavy on
her hands clasped tightly in her lips, she looked hesitant and unsure, lacking
the confidence and charisma that usually oozed from every pore. Ladybug didn’t
know how to respond. It wasn’t every day that Queen Bee chose to open up to her
or any of the other heroes of Paris; she held her secrets and identity tighter
than any of them did.
“For my father,” she’d say when asked why and rarely said
more. Ladybug wasn’t arguing—she did the same thing—but it was different to
have someone so similar working beside her. While she enjoyed Volpina’s
presence, and Chat Noir was her partner, Queen Bee was something entirely new
and unexpected, but not unwanted. Ladybug had spent so long explaining why
secret identities were important, and while everyone had accepted that long
ago, Queen Bee was the only person who seemed to understood why.
“So there’s this girl,” Queen Bee had said, completely
out-of-the-blue and sending Ladybug’s thoughts into a whirlwind, unprompted on
an early Saturday after an akuma battle under the silver sunrise of the Paris
morning. “And I don’t know what to do.”
“You know I’m just a consultant, right Potter?” Draco said acidly, trying to scrape mud from his arms and legs, “I am not a mad auror with more adrenaline than sense.”
“You have mentioned it before,” Harry said tersely, taking deep breaths. It was, after all, his fault Draco had ended up in the swamp following up a lead on black market dittany growers. It was also Harry’s fault that when he tripped on a root he had grabbed for the first thing in reach, which had been Draco, and pulled them both into a mug bog with the consistency of quicksand that had taken them twenty minutes to get out of.
Now they were both coated in mud up to the chest. Draco had somehow managed to scrape most of it off and didn’t have any on his hair or face, other than a small blob on his cheek. Harry had it in his hair, face, and just about everywhere else.
He just, really, really wished Draco would shut the hell up.
“What kind of absolute idiot can’t identify dittany?” Draco muttered.
His wand clutched so tightly into his fist he could feel every groove and notch in the wood. “Why can’t we just cast scourgify?” Harry groaned, ducking under a branch Draco let go, nearly smacking him in the face. Draco was watching the ground for signs of the tiny herb but he had to have done it on purpose, Harry just knew it.
Draco shot a look back at Harry what reminded him of Snape, “I have explained, Potter, dittany only grows in soil that contains mercury and propagates moondew flowers, do you really want to know what happens when you introduce magic to that combination?”
“Ok, ok,” Harry conceded trying not to think about the places mud was now making its home.
“Are you certain?” Draco said mockingly, “Because it involves your skin turning yellow and slowly melting off. Sounds like a right jolly Gryffindor thing to do.”
Harry took another deep breath and slowly let it out, “I understand, Draco.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” Draco said.
“Just shut up!” Harry snapped, “I swear, I get it!”
Draco stopped in his track and spun around, his expression furious.
Harry went on, “I’m sorry about everything that’s happened but you’re not the only one that’s uncomfortable or unhappy about all this!” He threw up his hands, “I swear sometimes I think you only care about yourself!”
Draco stalked over to him, stabbing his finger into Harry’s chest, “You egotistical, fucking arsehole, I can’t believe-” he stopped and shook his head, “I fucking hate you.”
Harry smacked Draco’s hand away, “Yeah, well, I hate you too!! Fucking wanker.”
Draco jerked back like Harry had hit him, his eyes widening, “You-” his words choked and died in his throat, “-You what?” He blinked rapidly, his head turning away to try and hide the tear that had slipped down his cheek.
Harry stared in shock, then caught Draco’s chin, tugging it back round to face him. He brushed the tear from Draco’s face before he had even realized what he was doing.
“You’re covered in mud,” Draco sniffed, looking down at the ground, another tear blinking free.
“Sorry,” Harry said softly, wiping the other tear away, smearing the mud on Draco’s cheek, “I don’t hate you.”
“Like I care,” Draco muttered.
Harry sighed and smiled ruefully, “Alright.”
“I don’t,” he insisted with a faint pout, finally bringing his eyes up to meet Harry’s, a faint pink flush colouring the tops of his cheekbones.
Harry leaned forward, chancing a brief kiss, tensing in anticipation for the worst.
“This is awful,” Draco groused, “We’re disgusting.” he sniffed again and blinked his tears back.
“Can I try again when we’re cleaned up?” Harry asked.
Draco glanced away and shrugged, his cheeks flushing further.
Harry smiled, “How about dinner then?”
Draco pulled away suddenly, his eyes fixed at where he had glanced away. He stalked through the trees to a small clearing surrounded by scrub and strange pale flowers. “Here it is.” Draco gestured.
Harry followed. The clearing was full of tiny dittany plants. It was a king’s fortune, especially at the obscenely high prices the growers were charging for them, and the final evidence they needed to convict the group they had arrested a few days ago. Harry activated his tracking medallion and sent his patronus back to tell them he had found it. Soon the collections team would be apparating on Harry’s location.
Draco shifted his weight, his arm brushing Harry’s. He cleared his throat nervously, “Dinner would be nice.”
A/N: I´m from Germany so I have no idea how the schools in America are like.
It was a
week ago that you last had spoken to Montgomery. The last time was at the party
of Bryce Walker. You were so drunk, that he had to drive you home and walk you
to your front door. And that´s when you did something you regretted. You kissed
him, you kissed him in your drunken state, but the worst part was that he
pushed you away. He didn’t even want to kiss you and it hurts. The problem was
that you had a crush on that brown haired boy with freckles, but since that night
you couldn´t look at him, you were too embarrassed.
You were walking through the hallways of Liberty High, making your way to
communication class. You sat down in your usual seat in the classroom. You were
the first on in class so you pulled out your phone, answering texts from
Jessica and Sheri. “Hey Y/N, how are you?” You looked up and saw Sheri standing
in front of you. “Hey Sheri, I´m good and you?” You greeted her with a small
smile. “Good, I never thought I would see you here today?” She exhaled with a
small smile. “What do you mean?” You tried to sound confused, but of course you
knew what she meant. This was the only class you and Montgomery had together
and to avoid him you skipped it. “You skipped this class for almost a week.”
She said and you rolled your eyes. “Well, I´m here now.” You answered and she
nodded, sitting down in front of you and started conservation about something that
happened during cheerleader practice. People started to gather in and with them
also Montgomery and Bryce; of course they had to sit down on our table. “Hello
Lady´s.” Bryce greeted you smirking. Sheri greeted him with a short hello while
you just nodded. “Y/N, haven’t seen you in a while, you look good.” Bryce
shoots you a smirk, winking at you. “Thanks Bryce.” You said and rolled your
eyes. You sighed in relief when Mrs. Bradley came through the door and began
For the rest of the class you scribbled in your text book, avoiding every
glance Montgomery shoots you. After the bell rang you almost stormed out of the
class room, making your way to the library, the only quiet place and also the
best one to avoid Monty. “Y/N, wait a minute.” You heard Montgomery shout after
you and you quickened your pace. He turned you toward him and looked at you
confused. “What?” you snapped pushing his hand off of your shoulder. “You have
been avoiding me.” He simply stated and you rolled your eyes. “I have not and
now excuse me I still have an essay to write.” You tried to walk away from him
but he stopped you again. “Is it because of what happened at your porch last
week?” he asked and you took in a sharp breath. You shook your head no,
avoiding his gaze. “Come on, Y/N/N, look at me.” He whispered and grabbed you
hand, squeezing it slightly. “Stop Monty.” You said and pulled your hand out of
his grab. “Stop being nice. That makes hating you a lot harder.” You whispered
and you knew it was childish but it was your way to protect yourself. “You hate
me, but kissed me?” he asked clearly amused. “God, I take everything back.
You´re an asshole.” You mumbled more to yourself and walked away from him, not
only hurt and embarrassed but also pissed. “Come on, Y/N/N, it was only a
joke.” You shook your head, tears starting to well up.
You sat in
the library trying to focus on your essay. But every time you tried to form
sentences your thoughts to that arrogant jock. Maybe it was your own fault.
When you didn’t kissed him and controlled your emotion, you wouldn´t be in this
situation. You could no longer pretend to see him just like a friend, like you
didn’t fall for him.
Your phone, what was lying next to your text book, began to vibrate. You looked
down and saw that it was Sheri, asking you if you want to go get a coffee with
her after cheerleader practice. You told her that you will wait for her at the
parking lot. After half an hour later you made your way into gym deciding to
wait on the bleachers for Sheri.
When you stepped into the gym Sheri instantly spotted you. “Hey Y/N” she greeted
you with a big smile and waved at you. Your gaze wandered around the gym and you
spotted Montgomery. You thought about leaving again, but decided against it; it
would look stupid and childish. So you sat down on the bleachers, pulling the
book you were recently reading out of your school purse. You tried to focus on
the words written in your book, but your eyes always wandered toward Monty. To
say he look good in his baseball shirt and sweatpants was an understatement.
You noticed that you began to bit your lips and instantly stopped, turning your
attention back to your book.
“Hey Y/N, do you wanna play with my bat?” Bryce shouted flirty at you and the
rest of the boys began to laugh; except for one jock who shoot daggers toward
Bryce, what you didn’t noticed. “I think you couldn´t handle my swing, Bryce.”
You shouted back, with a fake smile on your lips. The boys behind Byrce laughed
and with them the Monty. But Bryce wouldn´t give up and walked toward you.
“Well, but I can try. I could skip the rest of practice and we could go over to
my house.” He leaned on his baseball bat smirking and winked. “In your dreams,
Walker.” You looked back down at your book, feeling uncomfortable that the whole
gym is watching the scene. “But we could make this dream come truth.” He
smirked up at you and you sighed. “Stop talking before I throw up.” You shoot
him another fake smile, hoping he would finally stop. He lifts his hands in
defense and turned around, going back to his friends and continue practice.
Your eyes meet Monty´s and he shoots you small smile.
You lay on
your bed finally finishing your essay that was due in two days. A knock on your
door tear you from your essay and in your doorway stand your mother a smile on
her lips. “What is it, Mum?” you asked, returning the smile. “Well, there is
this good looking boy standing in our living room, asking to see you.” She simply
stated and you raised your eyebrows surprised. “Wait, what good looking boy?”
you asked her confused, sitting straight up in bed. “You know the one with
freckles. He says his name is Montgomery.” She answered and you let out a sigh.
You got up and walked behind your mother downstairs. Midway down the stairs you
stopped, looking at Monty with a frown on your face. He was talking to your
father and they seem to get along, normally your father hates every male that
comes near you. “What are you doing here?” you asked from your spot on the
stairs and Montgomery turned around, a nervous look on his face. “Uhm, I wanted
to talk to you.” He said and shoots you an even more nervous smile. “Are you
two together? I mean is he your boyfriend?” asked your father and looked at you
delightful. “No dad, we are not together.” You look at your father who held now
a slight disappointed look. “Come Monty, we´re going to my room.” You said and
began to walk upstairs again, hearing him sprinting toward you. “Keep the doors
open you two.” Your mother shouted after Monty and you. “God, Mom stop.” You mumbled,
but by her snickering you knew she heard you.
Montgomery stands in the middle of your room, looking at your pictures and the
books in your bookshelf. “You have a lot of books.” Montgomery mumbled scanning
through your books. “So that´s what you wanted to talk about?” you asked
amused, standing next him after closing the door. “No, of course not.” He said,
finally turning toward you. “So that night when you kissed me, I pushed you
away, not because I didn’t want to kiss you but because you were drunk. I
doesn´t want to take advantage of your drunken state.” He said and you laughed
sarcastically, which earned you a confused look from Montgomery. “You don’t
have to say this so I feel better. It´s ok. You didn’t want to kiss me, it was
my fault that my feelings overwhelmed me, so no need to feel bad.” you rambled
looking at your hands. “Like always you don’t listen. I want to kiss you since
middle school, but you were drunk and I wasn’t sure you really wanted to kiss
me, so I pushed you away.” Your head immediately shoot up when his words had
sunken in. “You want to kiss me since middle school?” you asked surprised, a
small smile forming on your lips. “Well, yeah. Your lips look really kissable.”
He mumbled and you chuckled at his words. “Same goes to you, I guess.” You
whispered smiling at him. “Why didn’t you kiss me, when you wanted to do it
since middle school?” you asked amused, lifting an eyebrow playfully and he
rolled his eyes. “We´re friends and I didn’t want to ruin it. You´re one of the
few people who put up with my bullshit.” He whispered taking a step toward you.
“Yeah, you can count yourself lucky, de la Cruz.” You smiled at him, also
taking a step forward. He hummed approvingly, his hands wandering to your hips,
pulling your slowly closer to him, while your hands rested on his triceps,
making their way to his shoulders and then to his neck. Before you could make
another remark his lips were pressed against yours. You pulled him closer by
his neck, enjoying the kiss. It was better than that night. He gingerly bites
down on your bottom lip, which elicited a moan from you. Monty used the
opportunity to deepen the kiss, while he pulled you closer by your hips, your
hands tugging slightly at his hair. When someone cleared their throat you broke
away, panting slightly. You looked at your mother, who held an uncomfortable
smile on her lips. “Yes mom?” you asked; your cheeks flushed out of
embarrassment. “I, uhm, just wanted to bring you kids something to drink and a
snack.” She mumbled, putting the tablet down on your desk. After making her way
back to the door she looked at you with a smile on her face. “So you´re sure
he´s not your boyfriend?” she asked and you groaned in annoyance. “Bye mum.”
You said and pushed her out of the door, closing it behind her. “That was
awkward.” You said laughing. Monty nodded and walked toward you, pulling in
another kiss. This was one was much shorter, but not less sweet. Monty pulled
away, too early for your liking, smiling down at you. He leaned his forehead
against yours before asking: “So, tomorrow Monet´s after school?”
If you wanted us to date, you didn’t have to go to such extremes // SHAWN MENDES
Overview: Shawn and
Y/n both like each other but are too scared to admit it too each other in case
it ruins their friendship. One of Y/n’s friends encourages her to do something
Author’s note: The
friend characters are fictional and aren’t based on any of Shawn’s real
“So, you and Shawn
huh?” Lucy teases me, her elbow nudging mine. It was a Saturday and a group of
friends, including Shawn and I, decided to head to the shopping mall.
“What do you mean?” I
ask, letting my hair fall to hide my flushed cheeks.
“Oh come on,”
She giggles. Our pace had slowed and now we were trailing behind the group. “It’s
so obvious that you’re both head over heels for each other,”
locks onto Shawn’s back as he walks in front of me. I watched as he shoves
Damon away as he whispered something into Shawn’s ear, laughing.
think Shawn li-“
about to say likes you, don’t do it.” She meets my eyes. “As a complete third
party opinion, my input would be that Shawn’s dying to be with you and you’re
dying to be with him yet you both just can’t seem to tell each other,”
She holds up
her hand to stop me talking. “Okay so point A. You hate sharing food with
anyone. If I want some, I have to take some when you’re not looking,”
me food?” I ask shocked.
important,” She says and I laugh, shaking my head.
when we got Indian, Shawn asked for some of your butter chicken. What was the
response?” She pauses, giving me a knowing look. “Oh Shawn, of course you can
have some of my chicken Shawn,” She says in a high dramatic voice.
might hear you,” I laugh, looking ahead to see if anyone turned around although
the quiet hum of noise in the mall seemed to just cover her voice.
Shawn is like, always touching you
95% of the time. Whether it be his hand on your knee when we’re sitting down
for dinner, his arm around your shoulders when we’re walking or even his hand
on your back- just friends don’t do that,”
so but in our friendship that’s what we do,” I say, smiling at her.
her eyes. “Point C. The way you guys look at each other. Enough said.”
the look of friends?” I ask giggling.
groans. “He looks at you like you’re his whole world, which, by the way, if that
isn’t relationship goals I don’t know what is,”
point with this?” I whisper as we approach the group that had stopped to look in
a shop window.
“I want to
devise a plan to get you and him to date,” She says, a grin forming on her
think he would actually want to go out with me?” I raise an eyebrow septically.
to go out with you?” Shawn asks, walking over and throwing an arm around my
shoulder, tucking me into his side. Lucy gives me a look.
this guy that’s really interested in Y/n,” Lucy buts in. I shoot her a confused
glance and she smiles reassuringly.
frowns for a moment. “And you’re going to ask him out?” he asks me, face blank
not sure if he would say yes to me,” I mumble. Out of the corner of my eye, I
notice Lucy nodding at me enthusiastically.
pretty stupid to say no,” Shawn says so quietly that I barely catch it.
I ask, meeting his caramel eyes.
breathes, the noise in the room seeming to disappear.
would so say yes,” another voice breaks me out of the haze.
true I mean, look at the signs,” She shrugs her shoulders.
giving these ‘signs’ you girls are talking about, than you should go for it. I
mean like, the guy could just be scared to tell you how he feels in case it
scares you way,” Shawn adds, nodding his head as if he knew exactly what we
were talking about.
don’t know what you’re getting yourself into right now,” I tease, nudging his
side as we began waking again.
can be dangerous water Mendes,” Lucy mentions, falling into stride.
swim,” He smirks, his arm slipping down from my shoulders to my waist where his
hand rested on my hip.
“So you think
that if this guy likes me and is showing all the signs- I should just go for it
and tell him how I feel,” I ask Shawn, my nerves picking up from what I’m about
“As I said
before, he’d be stupid not to say yes to you so if you feel that way about him,
go for it” Shawn doesn’t meet my eyes as he talks.
“So I should
go straight up to him and be like, I like you,”
“Why not?” he
says, glancing at me quickly.
you,” I say abruptly, as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
like that,” Shawn replies, not looking down at me, one hand reaching up to
ruffle his hair.
“No Shawn, I like you,”
he doesn’t seem to realise what I’ve confessed.
serious?” He stops, pulling me back to him when I went to continue walking.
I’m serious,” I say, a weak smile on my face. Maybe I shouldn’t have said
his hands drop mine and a shocked look appears on his face.
calls to the group ahead and the tallest turns around to face us. “You were
fucking right,” His face breaks out in a grin.
“I told you
to do it man,” Damon calls back laughing, shooting me a thumbs up.
back to me smirking.
He trails off, moving back slightly to lean against the wall, pulling me gently
so I stood in-between his legs. “If you wanted us to date,
you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”
Dorian Havilliard walked into his private chambers after a long, arduous meeting—and was surprised to find Manon lying on their bed. It was half past noon, she was never home during the day.
“Why aren’t you training?” He asked, walking over to the closet.
“I don’t feel well.” Her voice was laced with annoyance.
He removed his coat and stuffier pieces of clothing and then padded over to her. There was an untouched glass of water, a pile of untouched crackers, and a bucket. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
when he gets drunk and he starts confessing;; jung hoseok / 979
When Seokjin had requested for you to take one for the team to get Jung Hoseok off the dance floor, you made your request very clear that he owes you big time. It made no sense how it wasn’t your mess to begin with but suddenly is just because Hoseok couldn’t stop calling for you. You thought it was funny, hearing Jimin describe it before he lost his hyung and shoved the phone to Seokjin to explain how Hoseok went from using the glass as a receiver, to his own hand, to getting on his feet to find a phone he conveniently has in his pocket.
So that brings you to a place where the bass is too damned loud for anyone’s ears (or hearts) and your mind starting to go insane if you don’t find Hoseok quick enough. He knows just how much you hate events or functions like these because age must be wanting you to have peace and quiet but here you are and he better appreciate it now where is he?!
You can barely think straight as you make your way through the dance floor and surprise not surprise, once you reach the middle you see a familiar silhouette taking lead in moving their body fluidly, blending to the music as one but it doesn’t last for long when - “I swear on your ass, Hobi. We need to get out of here,”
One, you know he doesn’t recognise it’s you, especially not with clouded eyes blinded by alcohol. Two, he still gives into you by allowing you to pull him from the spotlight and that brings you to three. When he processes he’s being taken away from what’s taking his whole damned mind from the thoughts that he constantly overthinks and suffocates with, he retaliates.
“I wanna dance some more!” He whines, his tone taking up a notch because when he wants something, he wants something (more so when he’s drunk). “Let m-me get back out there!”
But you’re not having any of his bullshit.
“One more dance and you’ll be on the floor,”
“Down on the floor? Y-”hiccup”-ou want me to get down? I’ll get down!”
“Jung Hoseok,we’re getting out of here,” You make no room for him to disagree when you’re hauling him out before he can find his voice or words. He has no choice but to follow when you have his arm over your shoulder and it’s funny how he still doesn’t catch on who it is just yet. It’s a couple of steps down the sidewalk until the cool breeze meets his skin and - “Y/N…?”
“Yeah, hi,” You snort, heaving his arm over you so you can take part of his weight to make it easier to head back, “I see you’ve finally realized who’s walking you, huh?”
“How did you get here…?” He murmurs, yet he doesn’t have a problem with it. Well, he better not because if he has been calling for you nonstop and suddenly has a problem with you getting him home, drunk or not, you’ll beat his ass.
The walk home was… energy consuming but you’re not complaining. Hoseok seems to comply when you ask him to walk up the stairs and it’s not much of a struggle when he quiets down the moment he reaches his apartment. When you unlock the door and nudge for him to go in, he pulls you with him just as you close the grill.
He drags you to the sofa, in contrast how you were leading him and now as he lays down in comfort, he leaves you no choice when he asks: “C-Could you touch me?”
Your eyes are blown wide because - “Woah, okay, that’s not how you-”r voice is lost in your confusion when Hoseok grabs onto your hand and places it on his head, going the opposite direction your assumptions went and you’re partially grateful he won’t remember this (or at least you hope) because - “Please…?”
Sighing, you decide to use your leg to drag a stool over and sit so you’d have proper leverage to start stroking his head. It’s slow and it’s an irregular pace but it’s all Hoseok will take when he smiles the moment you’re willing to do what he wants. Looking at him from this position, he cranes his neck up to keep his eyes on you but you’re tilting his chin down.
“Get some rest, Hobi. You’re going to hate yourself in the morning,”
At first, he seems to hum in reply and hold onto your other hand as he closes his eyes. Before he drifts off into slumber he asks a question that stops your heart - and hand.
“Even if I hate myself, will you still like me like I like you?”
Gaping, Hoseok opens his eyes and you don’t realize you’re holding your breath to squeak out a shaky y-you like me?
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
This could go down both ways.
Psych, what were you thinking?
“I like you so much I feel like I’m about to lose my mind because this all feels like a dream. And when I wake up, it’s gonna suck so bad because you’re not even here…”
“…I don’t think it’s going to suck in the way you think because your hangover will show you who’s boss,”
“Why don’t you find out tomorrow morning, Hobi?”
((”what the fuck…”
“told you your hangover would show you whose boss,”
“yeah well-y/n? how are you - why are you - oh my god, last night i… did i say anything?”
“well, you did say you could still dance more on the dance floor,”
“and that you like me,”
“would it make it better if i said i like you as much as you like me?”
JUST. BECAUSE. WE. SHIP. A. GAY. SHIP. DOES. NOT. MEAN. WE. THINK. IT. WILL. BE. A. CANON. SHIP. (goes for lots of straight ships too) THE LIKELIHOOD OF FUCKING QROW/IRONWOOD BEING CANON IS PRACTICALLY NONEXISTENT, BUT PEOPLE ARE ALLOWED TO SHIP IT ANYWAY. I DON’T CARE IF YOU ARE THE BIGGEST DAMN QROWIN FAN ON THIS EARTH. PEOPLE ARE ALLOWED TO SHIP WHAT THEY LIKE. THE AMOUNT OF HATE BETWEEN SHIPS IS 100% UNNECESSARY. FLOWN NORTH SHIPPERS ARE ALLOWED JUST AS MUCH HAPPINESS AS QROWIN, OZQROW, AND IRONQROW SHIPPERS. I happen to very much like OzQrow but no way will it ever be canon. I think Qrow/Tai is kinda cute too, but I know it won’t be canon. IT DOESN’T MATTER!!!!!!!!!! Realistically, Qrow probably won’t end up with a canon love interest. Just please stop feeling entitled to dominance because your ship is “stronger” than another one.
side note: please note when artists and writers put something into an AU. it makes all the difference with ships. there are rwby aus where qrow and fucking oobleck are gay. but they are fan-generated aus. please respect that.
Yes, I think part of this (ok a lot of this) is me projecting onto his
character with my bitterness at a failed schooling system, but I don’t care, so
give me tiny little Grantaire who loves school.
He’s a nerd that begged his parents for books upon books of
French history and Greek/Roman mythology—which were the bedtime books his
parents would read to him when he was still too young to go to school. He goes
into his first day of school knowing almost as much as students twice his age.
Give me petit Grantaire who can quote Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde and Victor
Hugo through his missing front teeth.
Give me petit Grantaire going to school, and his hand shoots
up before the teacher even finishes the question—so proud that he knows all the
answers. It reaches the point where the teacher tells him to put his arm down
so the other students have a chance to answer.
Petit Grantaire who isn’t the best at making friends because
he’s too blunt, too sarcastic, too, well, Grantaire. Petit Grantaire who always tries
but somehow can’t find anything to talk about with the other kids (turns out not a lot of other kids are interested in his intense knowledge of history, mythology, and literature).
Grantaire who’s always been top of the class, and as he
grows up not much has changed.
Until grades start to really matter.
And Grantaire is smart—like, really smart—so people realize this. And they use it to help themselves.
They see this kid desperate for a friend, so they “befriend
him” before tests and homework assignments and class projects. And
Grantaire doesn’t question it because he’s just so happy he finally has
friends—friends who talk to him about what interests him! And yeah, what
interests him is basically what is on the homework, but hey, at least they want
to talk to him. And why wouldn’t he want to help his new friends.
But despite his new “friends” he still never gets texts, never gets invited to
things—but what hurts even worse is when they cast him aside after they get the
grade they need.
After a while he learns to hate school, to hate the people
that have only ever used him for a grade, to hate the schooling system that brought
this upon him (French or American, they’re both really fucked up so put him in
which country you want)—he learns to hate the world.
So he becomes the cynic.
He gets by as he finishes his pre-university schooling, but
he stops trusting people. He eats his lunches in the library, or the art room, or the instrument practice room, or even classrooms of old teachers who still like him. He starts having to deal with the mental illness that
comes from being manipulated like this and having to try to block out that little
voice that still tells him he’ll never have friends if his grades aren’t perfect.
And then, his grades are no longer perfect and he slowly stops raising his hand
in class, starts hating himself even more because of it, but always puts on a
front that he doesn’t care. And he comes to terms with the fact that he will
never have real friends.
Grantaire, who meets Joly and Bossuet in his first day of
university and somehow immediately becomes their friends. They aren’t in any of
his classes because they’re all in different majors, but this is new for
Grantaire, because for once in his life his friends don’t depend on the grades
he gets—for once in his life there are people who will love him no matter what
grades he gets. He slowly learns to trust them, but of course he’s still the
cynic his past made him into. But he’s happy now–genuinely happy. He makes jokes with them, hangs out with them, and even texts them random memes and pictures that made him think of them.
After a while, they convince him to join their political
group on campus, and because they’re Grantaire’s friends (god, that feels so
good—friends) he finally says yes.
And you can bet that Les Amis are working hard to change the
schooling system as a part of their other focuses, and maybe Grantaire doesn’t
think they can—thinks he’s too fucked up and nothing is going to save others
from following in his wake—but maybe he still takes comfort in being able to
talk to other people who have been just as fucked over by the system as he has.
And maybe, just maybe,
he starts to realize that he can make real friends after all.
Auston had just got his keys out to unlock the door when it swung open and revealed a very disgruntled looking (Y/n).
“Woah,” Auston smiled to himself. “Just had sex with Marns?”
“Fuck off,” (Y/n) mumbled as she pushed back Auston and immediately headed for her car.
“Nice to see you too!” Auston shouted as (Y/n) walked away.. Auston chuckled and proceeded into his home, closing the door behind him. “I’m back!” He announced, taking off his jacket and slipping off his shoes, a habit he had picked up from his time in Toronto.
“Oh, hey,” Mitch said, walking into the front room from the kitchen with a water in his hand. “How was it?” Mitch asked in reference to the date Auston had just returned from.
The taller boy shrugged, hanging up his scarf as well and joining Mitch in the lounge. “Not the best,”