#; so yeah I might have made him a clothes designer but unfortunately his real job isn't that >.< )

[itsbitmxdinhere]

PROMPTS FOR SHARING COMPLIMENTS AND PRAISE ( Accepting )

@thenightmareofyourdrems said: did you do this all by yourself? ~ skye x lewis

" What those? yeah is just a hobby I used to have...I keep them there in case some day I get that kind of inspiration again....", he sighs as he stares at some dresses and suits he made that he exposed in a room where he still had all the utensils to make them. To think he could have got big if not for some asshole that stole his ideas and screw him over, since then he got paranoid to show them to anyone and only made them for himself, but it has been a really long time since he made something.

[gremlintiny]

A simple(n't) birthday

~ Everything here is just a work fiction. Every person, place, institution, event and etc. is not a representation of any of the real ones. Written purely for entertainment. ~

Genre: fluff, with bugging ateez members

Warnings: none

Word count: ~2200

A late birthday fanfiction for our Captain, as Christmas draws closer. It will be filled with a little bit of... madness, I might say. Have fun~

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

Another day started in the life of ATEEZ, with gloomy and rainy weather - again. It seemed like they haven’t felt the soothing touch of warm sunlight for ages. Which was unfortunately true. The whole world was strict with its nature, not allowing anybody to feel happiness from a sparkle of a random water droplet in the morning or re-noticing the many colours that are there in their daily lives, although it’s difficult to be always aware of them.

The base was full of joy, though. They decorated the rooms one by one with unique, very unique designs as most of the ornaments were made by them. Did the more talented ones do the majority of it? Definitely not. But everybody tried while having fun and brain damage as well to finish the program in time.

The reason behind this squirmy anthill was their captain’s birthday. ‘After all, it only comes once a year, haha!’ said Wooyoung a few days ago, only to receive seven pairs of eyes’ judging gaze in return. It was true, naturally, but the loud male always repeated this same joke every time a special day came.

When he tried to get a different kind of reaction, he ended up getting shushed by Seonghwa and a very menacing looking pile of clothes in his hands. Truth to be told, most members were frightened as well, even if the threat wasn’t directed to them. At least everybody was quick with their parts of this important job. First and foremost, all of these freed souls wanted to scintillate with their performance and gifts because they adored the man who had to accept the suffocating weight on his shoulder. And he also wanted to fulfil this duty, Hongjoong felt like it was his mission and the reason why he had to be born into this world. The others were determined to help him reach his goal, which became theirs immediately or slowly as time passed.

“Whoever made Christmas trees in November” started off Seonghwa deadly but silently, since he didn’t want to wake up the leader either “I will shove a real one into your ass on the 25th of December.”

Two heads already went pale as a laboratory coat. It only meant that the lioness found his targets a little bit too easily, maybe. Was it their recklessness by being high on this hype train, or was it just a lovely yet dumb joke? Or more likely, an attempt for it?

“Hyung, we just wanted to add some more colours to this event, and Yeosang discovered an old magazine with Christmas specials so we thought it would be fun.” Explained San with pouting lips. He used his trump card he likes so much.

Wooyoung nodded along right away, almost falling off the small ladder he was standing on to put up a bunch of luftballons. “Yeah, exactly! There was even a title which said ‘You can not start preparing for the holidays too early! Come and buy our brand’s top products to really add some spice to that smile! Thunder Whiskey - To become Thor for a moment.’ and we were completely stunned by it!” He probably recited every word perfectly with his dialect filled voice. It was strangely always understandable, despite the fact he was literally disgracing almost each of the phrases with the pronunciation.

The sudden flood of information worked out in their favour as the oldest just threw two snowball imitations at them before going back to setting up the table. The hand-made cake was already on the counter, simple candles ready to be lit and the rare liquor on set. Him, Yunho and Wooyoung worked hard on the dessert. Jongho wanted to take part as well, but he was assigned with the obtainment of the alcohol and the others were simply not allowed to go near for the cake’s safety. Only Mika, when it was time to make the cream and to decorate it because he always had something interesting in his mind. Although not all ideas were… well, acceptable.

After bugging and arguing for around an hour, a well known alarm was heard. Hongjoong’s clock was shrieking to wake the captain earlier than any of the others expected. The last pieces were hurriedly tossed into near their right places as they panicked and got ready in no time to be in formation, as Mingi worded it.

As planned, Mika knocked on Hongjoong’s door, asking him if he could come out. Yet, nobody anticipated that the male would tell the younger one to come into his chamber. The victim looked baffled as he answered in a seemingly careless way ‘yeah sure, what is up?’ while opening the door. The remaining ones were left outside, blinking and with question marks over their heads. Worst thing, they couldn’t eavesdrop on them because of the thick door.

Hongjoong was sitting in his bed, his hair still tangled and curly which clearly showed the other man how long the leader had been up. Mika fought the urge to ruffle his hair as he stopped in front of the black haired male, with a questioning expression on his face.

“I would like to ask a favour from you.” He started off, after munching away the last pieces of his probably fading away or already forgotten dream. Mika only lifted his left eyebrow to this short yet kind of weird sentence. What is he planning?

“Look,” Hongjoong continued. “I think I will be assassinated with pranks and surprises over and over again until fucking midnight and you are the most… well, not normal but… the least dramatic out there? This is why I want you to be my bodyguard for this day - please?”

Mika’s brain was almost sure that the person on the bed said ‘pretty please’ based on the look on his face. Those sweet, demanding puppy eyes. But he had to reject this random free gift opportunity since he had messed up the bunker with the members that morning, although Hongjoong didn’t know about it - yet.

“You should flatter me properly if you want me to accept this job” Mika told him. “At least, next time, for sure, because I have already failed your request, sir. Now, if you would brush your shaggy curls to stop Meduse from reviving and come out with me.” Despite the kind tone and the title ‘sir’, even a dull mind could have told that the blue-eyed man used much sarcasm in his voice. So much that even he wasn’t aware of it.

Poor captain took some last peaceful breaths, sighed at Mika with a dying expression and his little bit pouty lips and stepped outside the door. Where a whole whirl of confetti awaited him, thrown by the flabbergasted people out of pure panic and instinct. And a gesturing, scarily staring pair of light eyes behind the jumpscared man.

Hongjoong didn’t even have the time to spit every piece of paper out of his mouth as the others were already pulling him to the kitchen with ear-killing chirping. It looked like a kidnap from the outside, Mika was pretty sure about it. Or like a show-down of a lynch.

The building was thriving with all these reckless noises and voices the whole day. The celebrated one was right, this madness lasted until the next, 24 hours long time period began ticking. There was even a countdown where Hongjoong was under a pile of men - because of a challenge seen in an old funny article - even including the ‘least dramatic’ one and Hongjoong was only freed when the clock hit 00:00.

“See, I told you it was a good idea to make two cakes! One, for us to push his head into it and one to actually eat it. Haha, and he believed that we would spare his life this time, ah, his face was priceless. Ah.” Wooyoung was holding his stomach with an amused, slightly painful countenance on the couch, more like crawling than sitting properly in one place.

“You were right this time, and I will truly never ever forget the expression he made. Even a cat couldn’t do better.” Seonghwa agreed with him while slowly sliding down from the sofa.

“I’m glad we could take some pictures in the middle of this insanity… They turned out quite well, actually. We will print them out later with Jongho. “ Yeosang quietly murmured this to us with his sleepy, low voice.

“Make sure to send all of them to me as well, I will make a compilation soon out of the best ones~” Yunho said lazily, but the end of the speech turned into a laughter when he noticed a stupored shorter male looking at him from a lower head position. It was meant to be frightening but after he had to suffer through us hugging him, yeeting his face into a cake, us dragging him as a voodoo doll, eight people literally toying with him and etcetera, nobody could take it seriously.

San giggled silently next to the dying Wooyoung on the couch with closed eyes. He looked so drunk even though the amount of alcohol was limited and Hongjoong got most of it to be able to handle us that day. The fine man was just probably out of the zoomie time and had to change into energy saving mode.

“Don’t forget to copy every picture several times or some people might destroy the evidence.” This wise advice came from the steadily sitting Jongho who looked the most content out of them. But his longer blinks and sort of baggy eyes said it all, he went crazier than usual as well.

“Ohoh, we can’t let that happen, now can we?” A smile came from the dazzling oldest one although it was rather creepy. He had a mysterious power that awakened primary instincts in people’s hearts when he wanted them to.

“Ya, Yunho-ya, can you make it into a video? I will write a rap for it-” Mingi had come up with the idea in that instant, then began performing a free-style in the middle of the room. Mika wondered with half-closed eyelids how did he still have so much energy left. A second later, he realised that the tall male will K.O. himself in less than 10 minutes, no matter where he was. It's fine.

“Tidying. Now. Sleep.” Ordered the tortured leader with a raspy voice, from the ground. He stayed there, face lying on the carpet, limbs as powerful as a blue bird in a cage after getting drugged. Mika scoffed, then maybe purposefully failed to hide his laugh with an obviously not real cough while looking at the cat on the floor.

“Bodyguard.” This word was meant to sound as powerful as the previous one, but the small difference in Hongjoong’s voice and the uncovered hope in his irises gave him away. The laughing bursted out of the ‘bodyguard’, he went to scrape him together anyway.

Captain Joong was only walking next to Mika until they reached the dark corridor, where he got stuck in one place. The guardian was confused at first, but as the few centimetres shorter person faked a pretty dramatic concussion, his violent giggles returned and he picked up the silently demanding one onto his back.

Not like it was unusual but the leader’s pride already suffered much from this whole ordeal so he didn’t want to reveal how exhausted he was in front of the crew. Mika delightedly put Hongjoong down onto his nicely made blankets that will be ruined by his dirty clothes in a minute. But who would want to queue for a shower after a rough, eventful day?

“Ah, if only birthdays could last for two days so the others would clean up, wash my clothes, let me take a long, long bath and give me headache-less hours…” His eyelids were intact by then.

“...and a massage, a goodnight kiss on your forehead and-” Even though Hongjoong looked like the sleeping beauty, he tickled Mika’s side to shut him up. Poor man was overly ticklish.

“Ahahah, okay, okay, but if you ask us to do it for you, we might as well just make it happen since we respect you.” The lying one glanced at the sitting man through a thin crack tiredly. “I mean, in general. Sometimes we just have to disrespect you to show our utmost respect.”

Loud laughter was heard in the main room because Hongjoong took his sweet revenge with tickling. The sudden noise startled the ones working there, to at least not leave a literal garbage dump after them, but they exchanged some smug smiles while finishing the job, already thinking about jokes the next day. In the meantime, the remaining two people collapsed in the leader’s room to sleep. A shorter one in the bed and a slightly taller figure on a mattress that was accidentally left there by a certain person in the morning as he heard his members ganging up in front of his door.

- H

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chance Ch. 10: Father Daughter Time (alt. prompt Take Your Kids to Work)

AO3

Prev

Sitting in her hotel room, Marinette pouts. Her family hadn’t wanted to talk about their identities. Or hers. So instead, they’d had a rushed (awkward) dinner, and then sent her and Adrien away. But she knew they were going to patrol. Marinette grins as an idea forms. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not a good idea.” Tikki says from her spot on the bed, obviously tired of the drama and insanity that Marinette had managed to find since coming to Gotham. 

“Tikki, please. I just found out that my brothers and Mr. Wayne are all heroes. Not just any heroes, heroes known for their detective work. Can you blame me for wanting to go out and talk to them? Maybe if I go as Ladybug and not Marinette, maybe they’ll actually help. You know, hero to hero.” She pleads, looking at Tikki with her best puppy dog eyes. Tikki, unfortunately, was an ancient deity and was not affected by puppy dog eyes. 

“Marinette, I still think it’s a bad idea. Besides, Ladybug shouldn’t be in Gotham.” Tikki argues. Marinette huffs, knowing the kwami is right. 

“Fine. Well if I can’t be Ladybug, then I’ll just sew a domino mask really quick and go run on the roofs as myself.” She says, jutting her chin out in defiance.

“Marinette! That’s completely unsafe.” Tikki chastises. Marinette ignores her, moving around to find cloth to use for her mask. Tikki sighs. “Just- be careful. Think about the Bats, and that Ladybug is not supposed to be seen in Gotham.” She says. Marinette frowns. It almost sounds as if Tikki is giving her permission. But at the same time….

“Wait, what?” She asks. 

“Think about when you transform.” Tikki says with a tired smile. Marinette frowns, but does as she instructed. When the light from her transformation fades, she gasps at the new suit design. It was much darker, and looked as though she belonged with her family rather than the brightly colored Parisian heroes. What was once one singular piece of material was now several. The bottom part of her suit was black. It started at her feet and went all the way up to her chest. Underneath that, she had what seemed to be a deep red leotard (but it was hard to tell since it disappeared under the black bottoms). On her feet were ballet shoes that matched her leotard, the ribbons snaking up her legs. The shoes were slightly confusing, as she’d never seen a member of the Batfam with ballet shoes (and she herself couldn’t dance) but they fit with the rest of the costume. She also now had a hood, much to her delight. It would be useful against the slight chill in the air. Pleased with her new costume, Marinette opens her window and takes a deep breath before jumping out and swinging onto the roof. Giggling, she starts swinging around randomly, hoping that she’ll bump into a friendly sooner or later. A slight miscalculation between buildings leads her to freefall, her eyes wide as she desperately tries to hook her yoyo onto the roof. Arms wrap around her roughly and she yelps in surprise, tilting her head up to look at who grabbed her midair. Her father. Crap. 

“I don’t take kindly to unknown vigilantes in my city.” He says gruffly as they land on the roof. She frowns before she remembers her costume is completely different, and the Miraculous magic definitely helped conceal her identity (even though her family technically already knew). 

“Oh, I’m not unknown. It’s me, Ladybug? Couldn’t exactly bring out the spots in Gotham. Especially with French students in town.” She says with a grin. Batman (Mr. Wayne?) tenses before sighing. 

“Marinette?” He asks, she nods. 

“Yes, though I think it’s probably best to not use my actual name. You can call me….” She hesitates for a moment, searching her mind for a new name. “Ladybird.” She finally says. Ladybird, because it was another name for a Ladybug and because if someone didn’t know that, they’d think she was just another Bat with a bird theme. 

“Very well. Ladybird, go home.” He says. 

“Home home, or where I’m staying home?” She asks cheekily, the banter coming easily with the freedom of a mask. 

“Where you’re staying.” He says through a clenched jaw. 

“Yeah...no can do. See, I’ve been trying to bond with my biological father and it just hasn’t worked out so far. I’m hoping to fix that tonight though!” She says, hoping she doesn’t sound as desperate as she feels. She can’t help it though. Ever since she found out she was adopted, she’s wanted to connect with Bruce. And every time she’s tried, something has come up. Or some revelation has happened and they’ve had to stop their pitiful attempts at bonding. 

“I don’t think-” Batman starts, his lips pursed. 

“Oh no, you see, I know he’ll say yes. See, it’s take your kid to work day.” She rushes out, tilting her head as she thinks of what she just said. “Or rather, night, I guess?” 

“Why not go to his day job, that’s much safer.” Batman argues, Marinette snorts. 

“Sure, it might be safer, but it’s also gonna be boring. Plus, he’d never bring me. Then he’d have to say something about me and I’m not sure either of us are ready for that yet.” She says. She watches Batman, holding her breath as she waits for a verdict. As much as it would hurt, she’d leave if he told her to. Well, she would now once she’d said her peace. But if he made her leave now, after hearing how much she wants to spend time with him? She wasn’t sure if she could handle it. 

“If you’re out of my sight for even a minute, I’m taking you home. I’m serious, Ladybird. You don’t have the training that the others do.” He finally says. She grins, jumping up and wrapping him in a hug. She instantly freezes when she realizes what she’s done and backs up, stuttering out an apology. 

---

Bruce looked at his daughter, unable to move as she continued to apologize. 

“B, I swear if you don’t tell her it’s okay, I’m going to shoot your fucking foot.” Jason’s yelling on the comms finally pulls him from his own thoughts. 

“It’s fine, Ladybird. Don’t apologize.” He manages to say, fighting the urge to smile reassuringly at her. She was so excited, the pure joy on her face made him feel like he had done something right for once. Of course it was replaced almost immediately by her stumbling out an apology and her once cheerful face twisted with regret. So he was still a failure as a father. Nice to know he was staying consistent. He watched, slightly worried as she stayed, stood completely still, in total silence. It was the first time he’d seen his daughter still. She truly was like a bird, always flitting about the room, moving from thing to thing with no real direction. To see her almost frozen was unnatural, it just felt wrong. Just as he opens his mouth to try and see if she’s okay, she snaps out of it. 

“Right! Well, let’s go! Patrol isn’t gonna happen by itself.” She says with a grin. He nods, taking off, always watching her from the corner of his eye. Maybe this wasn’t the bonding he had originally wanted, nor the bonding she’d been expecting. But he’d always found it easier to deal with stressful situations under his cowl. And a fourteen year old daughter? That was the definition of stressful situation.

Ladybird’s suit

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

[songsformonkeys]

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 3

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 3

The following three days passed in a slow fashion. Not just because Whiskey was gone but the rest of the agents seemed to be staying out of harm's way as well. It was a bit boring, but that was something Tonic had taught you not to complain about out loud since it apparently made it sound like you longed for injuries and carnage.

On the bright side, the slow days gave you, Ginger, and Tonic time to begin interviewing the agents on base for their emergency folders for the Alpha-gel.

The three of you had realized that while the gel and the nanites healed the brain perfectly fine they still needed something to counter the retrograde amnesia, which seemed to be a standard side effect. The sample of agents that had needed to use the gel was still small and so you couldn't draw too many sure conclusions from it, but every single one of them so far had suffered memory loss. It had been Tonic's idea that reminders of a past trauma might jump-start the memory again. The results had been good but guessing and digging up past traumas had been painstakingly difficult and had taken up more time than ideal. So you had collectively decided that each agent should have a file or a folder containing their very worst memory and ways it could be triggered.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 On Wednesday evening, you curled up in your armchair and called Whiskey. He picked up after three rings.

“Moonshine, “ he drawled, voice sounding a little tired.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, suddenly feeling a little bad. It wasn't that late in the evening but maybe Whiskey had needed to tuck in early.

“No no, I was awake,” Whiskey assured you, “Just got home from a looong day at an art auction. I'm not sure if you've ever been but it is possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.”

“Yeah? What was so bad about it?” you asked, smiling to yourself. You would be caught dead before admitting it out loud but you had actually missed him these past few days.

Whiskey began describing his day. A soon as he began talking, his voice relaxed you. You pictured him walking around in a swanky hotel room, with a view of the big city, probably still wearing his hat. You were half convinced he even slept in that thing.

Whiskey told you about the auction and the few stuck-up people who had pretended not to understand his southern accent just to make him feel less than. Then he told you about the way he'd later wiped the smug smiles off their faces by actually bidding home the small painting they had been ogling.

“Champ might kill me for it, 'cause it cost a small fortune, but it was worth it!”

“What will you do with the painting?” you asked.

“Hm,” Whiskey said and you didn't need to see him to know that he was shrugging, “Dunno. Might hang it in my apartment. It's a beautiful painting, reminded me of someone special... Speaking of my apartment, have you finished the cake yet?”

You nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see you.

“Yes, Ginger and Tonic helped me eat the rest of it.”

You had been over to Whiskey's apartment the day after he'd left. When you'd gotten to work, his key had been in a white envelope on your desk and you hadn't been able to keep your curiosity at bay for longer than a workday.

The apartment hadn't been quite what you thought Whiskey's home would look like. It had been much neater and cleaner than you had expected, for starters. You had expected more of a bachelor pad but Whiskey's apartment was quite nice. It looked lived in but not messy. Each thing seemed to have its own designated spot. As you had walked around the living room towards the kitchen you had taken in the big, comfortable-looking couch and multi-colored knitted blanket that looked like it was homemade.

There had been a couple of books on art history resting on the wooden coffee table. You had stopped, slightly in awe, in front of the big bookshelves that covered a whole wall of the room. You'd never pictured Whiskey to be the reading type, but here was clear proof otherwise. You had scanned the titles of the books and the exceptionally wide array of subjects made you suspect that a lot of these had been read for previous missions. But there had been a whole shelf of fiction too and you smiled a little as you noted that a lot of them seemed to be old western classics.

You had found the cake in the fridge in the equally clean kitchen. The cake had been in a plastic container and Whiskey had stuck a post-it note with a smiley on the lid.

“I liked your bookshelf. And I borrowed a book from you,“ you confessed over the phone and Whiskey chuckled in response.

“Is that so? Which one, if I may ask, was it that caught your fancy?”

“Lonesome Dove.”

“Ah, a classic! Didn't have you pegged as a western girl, Moonshine.”

“I'm not sure if I am, I've never read any. But you had a lot of them and I thought...” You cut yourself off, glancing over at the book on your bed, “You had a book on human anatomy as well that looked interesting and one on make-shift medical treatment when you don't have access to a hospital. I didn't take those, though. It felt wrong to take so many books without asking...”

Whiskey chuckled again and the sound did weird things to your insides, or maybe it was the nerves of having just admitted to raiding his bookshelf.

“Darlin', if it makes you happy, you are more than welcome to help yourself to any book in that apartment”

“Really? But what if it's a book that you suddenly need?”

“Then I'll know perfectly well where to find it.”

You couldn't really argue with that logic, didn't really want to either because the prospect of getting to read all those books almost made you giddy.

“So besides ogling my books, what else have you been up to while I've been gone?” Whiskey asked and you proceeded to tell him about the work with the Trauma Folders, which Tonic so affectionately called them.

“You still haven't submitted yours either, by the way,” you told him. Whiskey didn't immediately answer. The line was dead silent for a few seconds and just when you were about to ask if he was still there, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I know. I promise to get right on that as soon as I'm back, okay?” He sounded a little odd and your brow furrowed slightly. Whiskey cleared his throat again.

“Look, darlin', I'm pretty dead on my feet right now and as lovely as your voice is to listen to, I think unfortunately we gotta hang up before I start snoring on you.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I've talked too much.”

“Hardly,” Whiskey replied and his voice was warm and soft again, which eased the nervous knots that had begun forming in your stomach at his abrupt attempt to end the call. Usually, that was your role to try and say goodnight and his to try and linger. “I cherish every word, which is why I prefer to be awake for them. Call me tomorrow again?”

“Sure. Good night, Whiskey.”

“Good night, darlin'”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 If the previous days had been slow, the following day was anything but, at least when the afternoon rolled around.

Ginger had called you about some very strange low-frequency readings coming from a church nearby in Kentucky. She told you that she and Tequila were gonna go check it out but that you should be on standby, just in case.

You told her to be careful. Ginger was excellent at her job but she was also one of your closest friends and you couldn't help but worry.

After you'd ended the call, you immediately set about preparing the emergency room and double-checking to make sure everything was there. Seeing as neither of you knew what the strange readings had been about, it was difficult to prepare for every possible scenario, and while you knew that the health effects of exposure to extremely low frequencies were being discussed in the medical community, no one knew exactly what the effects were.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Ginder called you again. You heard the sound of the helicopter in the background. She told you that they'd be there in thirty and that they were bringing someone in with a headshot.

“I'll get the chamber ready for him!” you told her

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Thirty minutes later, on the dot, you watched as the helicopter landed and Tequila emerged, carrying a man in a suit. The man's face was obscured by the balloon containing the Alpha-gel but his clothes looked expensive.

“Entry point?” you yelled, over the sound of the helicopter as you waved for Tequila and Ginger to hurry inside.

“Straight through the left eye,” Ginger replied and you winced. The left temporal lobe would be damaged, for sure, maybe part of the occipital one too. You were confident that the nanites would be able to rebuild the brain matter but with the temporal lobe damaged you worried that the memory loss might be even more extensive than what you'd seen before and you wondered if it would affect his speech.

“Exit point or is the bullet still in there?” you asked.

“The bullet went all the way through as far as I could tell. Not sure what he was shot with though so we'll have to scan to make sure there's nothing left in there.”

Said and done. When you got down to the medical rooms you first put the man through a thorough scan of his skull. Just like Ginger suspected, the bullet had gone straight through and it luckily hadn't left anything but damaged tissue in its wake. Tequila helped move him over to the nanite chamber. Carefully, you removed the Alpha-gel balloon and quickly closed the chamber around his head.

“What happened?” you asked as you sat down in front of the computer and began tapping away at the keyboard, starting the machine and readying it for the healing and rebuilding process.

“We have no idea,” Ginger said. “We found him like this outside the church, no sign of who had shot him. Inside the church, however...”

“What?” you asked.

“Inside was a total fuckin' bloodbath,” Tequila supplied, “Whole congregation just...slaughtered.”

You looked over at the strange man.

“You think he did it?”

Both Ginger and Tequila shrugged.

“We don't know. But he's got blood on him that isn't his own and there was no gun in his hand so he clearly didn't shoot himself, which means someone got away from that Church alive.” Ginger reasoned, “And there's one more thing..”

She pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of her jacket. The left glass was shattered.

“He was wearing these. These aren't normal glasses, which means he's not a civilian. And his watch... he's some sort of intelligence. I'll dig around and see if I can find out whom he belongs to.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You called Whiskey again that evening. He sounded more awake today but you could practically hear the frown on his face when you told him about your strange new guest. He was not happy.

“He's an agent?” he asked.

“We think so. Ginger is running some tests on his glasses and his watch to see what we can figure out but so far we have no idea whom he's working for. So we just have to wait for him to wake up and see how much he remembers.”

“I don't like this,” Whiskey stated. “Not one bit. If he's intelligence, he's dangerous, Moonshine. You shouldn't be alone with him, not under any circumstances!”

“I won't,” you reassured him while rolling your eyes. “Agent Tequila also has an over-protective streak and has, therefore, put himself on guard duty until further notice. I've had him looking over my shoulder all evening.”

You had found it somewhat annoying but Whiskey had instantly calmed down upon hearing that bit of information. He told you to promise to listen to Tequila on this, which you reluctantly did. You didn't tell Whiskey that if the arrangement continued, you would have to come to some sort of agreement with Tequila on how close was close enough for protection. You couldn't have him reading over your shoulder all day long or you'd go stir crazy.

Whiskey continued to ask you a bunch of questions about the strange man and you couldn't answer a single one. He asked you about the signal too and you couldn't give him any answers to that either. It was all Ginger's area of expertise and you told him as much.

“Sorry, darlin', just wanna make sure my favorite girl is safe until I get back.”

Whiskey's words made you smile stupidly, despite the slightly patronizing undertone of them. You would like to think you knew how to take care of yourself, especially around your patients. But you did enjoy it when Whiskey called you his favorite. No one else had called you their favorite before.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat, you both said good night.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The next day, your patient woke up.

It had been decided the day before that Tonic and Tequila would be the first ones to greet him. Tequila because of the whole bodyguard business and Tonic because he was by far the one who had the most experience with calming people in shock and panic. You had only sulked a little when you'd sat down the desk on the other side of the one-way mirror showing you the stranger's cell. You turned on the cameras in the other room to record the interaction before leaning forward over the desk to watch.

As anticipated, the man was more than a little freaked out by waking up in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces around him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” he immediately asked and you raised your eyebrows as you noted his British accent. The stranger tried to scramble off the bed where he'd been lying. Tequila took a step forward but Tonic quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“You are in a hospital,” Tonic told the frightened man and gave him a calm smile, “My name is To...Tom.”

“A hospital? What happened?” the stranger asked.

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. You were in some sort of accident and when we found you, you were unconscious.”

Unconscious... that was definitely an understatement to describing having had one's brains blown out through the back of their head.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?” Tonic continued.

The British man looked around the room with wild eyes but he was already calming down a bit. While you were a bit jealous that Tonic, or Tom apparently, was the first one to get to talk to your new patient you had to admit that it was a privilege to get to watch him work. Tonic continued talking to the man and answering his questions by saying just enough to calm him but not enough to confuse him.

You found out that his name was Harry, but he couldn't remember his last name. He was from England and he thought he was 23 years old, which he most definitely was not. You caught Tonic and Tequila exchange a look as Harry told them his age. If Harry couldn't remember anything beyond his 23rd year then you estimated that he had forgotten more than half of his life. And since he wasn't one of your agents, you had no idea how to bring those memories back again...

Tonic and Harry spoke for a while longer and Tonic told him about his injuries. He also told harry about the memory loss. Harry didn't believe him until Tonic guided him over to the one-way mirror separating you from them and let Harry have a look at himself. You stood on the other side of the mirror and could watch as realization dawned on Harry. His breathing immediately sped up again and he was beginning to panic.

“Harry,” Tonic said calmly, “Harry, I'm gonna need you to breathe slower with me, okay? We've seen this kind of memory loss before and we will do our very best to help you recover the memories you can't remember right now”

“Think of it as one hell of a hangover,” Tequila supplied and Harry gave him an incredulous look.

“Hangover?” he asked in a weak voice “I look old enough to be a grandfather and I don't remember any of it... I don't think anyone has ever been drunk enough for that kind of hangover.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Tonic and Tequila handled the whole ordeal in a way that made you proud to call yourself their colleague and they stayed with Harry for most of the day, talking and explaining. Harry listened patiently and you had to give him credit for taking the situation a whole lot better than some of the Statesmen who had gone through the same thing. He was scared and worried, sure, but he managed to keep his panic in check and asked Tonic a whole bunch of relevant questions.

You wished you could have stayed and watched all afternoon but eventually you had to go back to your own office and begin typing up your report.

You had barely gotten two paragraphs in when your phone started ringing.

“Moonshine?” Whiskey said as soon as you picked up and you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He sounded scared. There were car horns blaring and loud crashes in the background.

“Yes. Whiskey what's...”

Whiskey cut you off before you could finish your question.

“Where are you?” he asked and when it took you a fraction of a second too long to answer, he repeated the question, “Moonshine! Where are you?”

“I'm in the office. Whiskey what's wrong?”

“Good! Whatever you do, stay where you are! There's something in the air! People are killing each other!”

“What?” Before you could say anything further, your door burst open and you screamed from surprise.

“Moonshine!” Whiskey yelled, panicked, as Ginger stormed into the office and pushed you out of her way to get to the computer. She began tapping on the keyboard and you watched as she pulled up live feeds from several cameras around the country. Your mouth fell open as you watched the chaos that filled the screen.

“MOONSHINE!” Whiskey yelled again and you realized you hadn't answered him.

“I'm fine!” you quickly assured him and you heard him exhale loudly. “Ginger just showed up. What the hell is going on?” The last question was aimed at them both. The quality of the feeds wasn't the best but there was no mistaking what was going on. All over the country, people were killing each other.

“The fuck if I know,” Whiskey said at the same time as Ginger supplied the slightly more helpful “It's the same signal! It's the same low frequency as we picked up from the church. But this is all over...well the world”

She turned and looked at the phone in your hand.

“Is that agent Whiskey?”

You nodded but then froze as you heard a banging noise on the other end of the line, which sounded much closer than the previous ones. You heard Whiskey curse.

“Whiskey?”

There was another crash and he cursed again.

“I'm sorry, darlin', I seem to have a visitor. I gotta go.”

“Whiskey,” you begged and you heard your own voice break as you spoke his name.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll deal with this and then I promise I'll come right home to you. You just promise to stay inside and stay safe, okay?”

What about you? you wanted to ask, but Whiskey had already hung up.

“He'll be fine,” said Ginger, who must have seen the expression change on your face. You nodded. She was right. Whiskey was an excellent agent. He would be fine.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 He would be fine. You managed to convince yourself of that up until about an hour later when the office phone called. You were too busy clutching your own phone, waiting for Whiskey to call back, to pay any attention to the other phone so Ginger picked it up and answered. She exchanged a few cryptic comments with the person on the other line before ending the call by saying:

“We'll be ready for him.”

After she'd hung up the phone she turned towards you.

“Whiskey's on his way back. He's been stabbed but according to the pilot, he's stable. They're flying him back now. “

[kittinoir]

Phantoms Ch. 4

Read on Ao3 here

Adrien considered himself a kind, forgiving person, but even he stiffened as a familiar high-pitched voice grated against his ears.

“Hi, Adrien!” the voice chirped, right beside him now. Stifling a sigh, Adrien hauled his professional mask into place and opened his eyes, his relaxing thirty minutes in the hair and make up chair clearly over.

“Hi, Lila,” he said. Did she notice the undercurrent of tension in his voice? Did she believe the warmth in it? He certainly didn’t. He’d have to try harder than this. “Did you have a nice trip with your mom?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lila said breezily. She tugged the lapels of her jacket as she sat, straightening out an invisible crease. “It was so great to be home and soak it all in. Your dad even asked if I’d have time to sit down with him and talk about the latest Italian trends for his spring collection - after we shoot this winter one, of course!”

Adrien fought the urge to raise a brow at the lies that rolled off her tongue but her words had hit a nerve. His father didn’t even make time to have dinner with him; as if he was going to sit down with Lila to discuss her fake trip. He had to admit, he was beginning to see why Marinette had such a tough time stomaching Lila. It was harder than he’d realized.

“Of course,” he managed. At least he could avoid looking at her as Ava, his make up artist, tilted his face this way and that. He didn’t know how to navigate their uneasy agreement anymore. He’d kept her at bay for the better part of six months, trading on the only thing that was of any worth to her - his fame. But even that no longer seemed to be enough, and what more she wanted, he could only guess at. Her trip to Italy the past three weeks had been a welcome reprieve. He could only imagine how she would have reacted if she’d been in Paris during his endless hunt for Ladybug. It hadn’t been good the week immediately after his partner’s disappearance.

She seemed fine now, though, as she preened for Marc, her own make up artist. If anything, Lila seemed in higher spirits than he’d ever seen her. One upon a time Adrien might have thought she was beginning to find her place with their friends, but he held no such beliefs about her now. Maybe it wasn’t totally fair to compare her to his arch enemy, but Lila was every bit as dangerous and conniving as Hawkmoth. It had taken nearly losing Ladybug to an akuma to realize it. He wouldn’t underestimate her again. Especially now that he knew Lila’s two enemies were the same person. He didn’t even want to think about her discovering that little truth. They had enough problems to deal with as it was.

“I was thinking,” Lila said, her green eyes sliding to his, “Why don’t we grab some hot chocolate after the shoot, Adrien? You can catch me up on everything I’ve missed and we can spend some quality time together - you know, as friends?”

Adrien suppressed a wince, but it was impossible to miss the thinly veiled threat. The truth was he had a Chinese lesson waiting for him after the shoot and, had it been a normal night, a patrol to prepare for.

But normal was different now, and Viperion and Tigress had patrol covered. If Luka and Juleka’s mom noticed them missing, she never made mention of it - even if band practice had suddenly moved from their house boat to Ivan’s garage. At least, that’s what they’d told her, and the unfortunate truth was Chinese could be put off for an hour or two. Would have to be, if he wanted to uphold his end of their bargain.

“Sure,” Adrian said lightly. “My treat.”

“Like a date?” Lila said smoothly, raising a brow.

Adrien froze, his fingers white-knuckled on the arms of his chair. “What?”

“If it’s your treat,” Lila said, facing him, “Doesn’t that make it a date?”

“Not at all,” Adrien said, fighting for calm. “You can get it next time. Since we’re friends.”

He steeled himself for the tantrums that usually followed when she didn’t get her way, but instead, she just regarded him sadly. “Still not over Kagami?”

Adrien blinked. Kagami. If only. She’d barely spoken two words to him since he’d ended their relationship months ago, unable to move past his feeling’s for Ladybug. He didn’t blame her. But no, Kagami had never really held his heart. It wasn’t her laugh and her eyes and her warmth that he missed.

But as he took in Lila’s glittering eyes, he decided she didn’t need to know that.

“I just…don’t have those kinds of feelings for you,” Adrien said, giving her a facet of the truth - the most important piece of it. “I’m sorry.”

“I see,” Lila said with a short laugh. “My mistake. But I wish you would give me a chance, Adrien. You’d see what a positive influence you’ve been on me. How much I’ve changed. I think you’d be impressed.”

He doubted it, but Adrien kept the thought to himself as he stood. “I’m glad to hear it, Lila. See you out there.”

A blush didn’t even warm his cheeks as he made his way to his trailer. Dozens of girls confessed to him, every single day. He’d gotten used to it since he’d done his first campaign. Most of them didn’t bother him. After all, it wasn’t like any of them knew him personally. Lila did, but there was always an angle with her. She was after his name and the celebrity that came with it. If she had to go through his heart to get it, she would.

Luckily, his heart was guarded by the most formidable woman in Paris. And unfortunately for Lila, she didn’t hold a candle to her.

Still, the back of Adrien’s neck prickled as he got changed for the first look of the shoot. He’d never known Lila to go down without a fight once she had her mind set on something. He’d bet her sympathy was about as real as her sit down with his father. But she hadn’t forced his hand. Why?

His suspicions pestered him throughout the entire shoot. Was it that she genuinely wanted him to care for her? Did she really want him to be ready to move on before she pushed her agenda? And, the most far-fetched of all - was it at all possible she’d had a change of heart?

No, he decided as Lila simpered for the camera, cold even where she leaned against him. There was more to this - more to her rivalry with Marinette and her alter ego - than either girl was letting on. A rivalry he was beginning to realize he was somehow at the centre of. If only Lila realized there wasn’t a competition - Marinette didn’t want him. Not the way he wanted her.

“How about a kiss for this last shot?”

Lila’s voice shattered Adrien’s musings, bringing him abruptly back to the moment at hand. Had she said kiss? No, she hadn’t changed one bit.

Adrien glanced up to where Lila was pointing at the roof of the set. Someone had hung mistletoe from the rafters so that it just dangled into the frame, completing the winter wonderland theme that had been chosen.

Thankfully, the photographer saved him.

“No, no,” Vincent said with a shake of his head. “Romance is not the theme. Sharp, cold lines, minimalism, harsh beauty, that is the vision for Mr. Gabriel’s new line.”

Dramatic, Adrien thought, but from what he could tell, the set up did compliment his father’s designs - and thankfully, saved him from Lila.

“Of course, Vincent,” Lila said. “It was just an idea. I only wanted to show the clothes in their best possible light.”

Vincent waved her off, directing them into position as a light was adjusted.

“I know what you’re doing,” Adrien murmured as Lila stepped up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered back, a smile dancing around her lips.

“I meant what I said, Lila,” Adrien warned. “I don’t - ”

“I know,” she interrupted, annoyance flashing across her face as her facade finally cracked. “I just think you need a little help mending your broken heart.”

She wasn’t going to stop, he realized. She was going to try to wear him down. It would take the whole truth - as much as he could say - to get her to back off. He hoped.

“Sorry, Lila,” Adrien said, “But my heart isn’t broken. It’s just elsewhere.”

Lila’s head whipped around as those calculating eyes searched his face. Adrien wasn’t sure what she found there, but whatever it was made her scowl.

“Who,” she demanded quietly as Vincent called for them to take their position.

“It doesn’t matter,” Adrien said, lacing his fingers through hers where her hand rested on his shoulder. “It’s not you.”

They fell silent as Vincent began snapping away. Adrien had no doubt this shot would be the pinnacle of his father’s collection; certainly enough frigidness had formed between the two of them to be palpable on film.

“That’s a wrap!” Vincent called ten minutes later. “Great job everyone!”

Adrien relaxed, immediately stepping out from under Lila’s fingers.

“I can make you love me.”

Adrien froze, then slowly turned to face Lila. The girl was staring at him, determination blazing in her eyes, her hands clenched into fists.

“I really don’t think you can,” Adrien said quietly, a hard edge creeping into his voice. “I won’t say this again, Lila. We’re friends. Just friends. And if you want to continue being the face of Gabriel with me, you’ll respect that.”

Dangerous, but he’d figured out why she was suddenly pushing for more from him; she didn’t need his fame anymore. She had her own. Modelling for Gabriel had given her that, along with several other modelling jobs and a sponsorship from a cosmetics line.

But being fired from Gabriel would jeopardize that. It was hard to use someone’s name to open doors when you didn’t work for them anymore, and though Lila might not know it yet, her leverage over him had evaporated the day Marinette had revealed her identity to their team. He’d kept up the charade for convenience - and it was no longer convenient.

“It’s Marinette, isn’t it.” Hatred burned in Lila’s eyes. “It’s always Marinette.”

Adrien pursed his lips but stayed silent. There was no point in denying it. Everyone would know soon enough anyway; the way he felt was impossible to hide. It didn’t matter if she didn’t feel the same way about him. He’d been down that road before. He’d never ask anything from her she couldn’t give, but he’d never been good at hiding his feelings.

But loving her was the one thing he could not, would not apologize for, ever.

“Good bye, Lila,” Adrien said, turning back to his trailer. “I’ll see you at school.”

“Wait a second,” Lila said. He heard her take a few steps after him but she didn’t lay a hand on him again. “We have a date.”

“Not anymore,” Adrien said without turning around.

“You’ll regret this, Adrien,” Lila snapped. “I will own your heart!”

“A heart isn’t something you own, Lila.” Adrien smiled. “It’s something you give. And I’ve already given mine away.”

[ghostlyhamburger]

Under Agreste: The Show

Rating: T

Pairings: Adrienette, Adrigami

Read on Ao3

Adrien was given a few more blissful hours of sleep while the contestants did some kind of trivia contest to determine which group date they’d be going on.

He was awoken by a knock at the trailer door. He stumbled over, blinking sleep out of his eyes, and opened it to see a woman with dark hair and a smile that promised Adrien had no room to argue with anything she said. “Morning, Sunshine. Ready for your dates?”

“Do I have a choice?” he muttered. “Just tell me what I’m doing.”

“You’re going to wardrobe,” she replied. “Then, off to the music festival. Oh, and you’re picking one of them for a private date tomorrow, so keep that in mind.”

**

He met up with seven of the contestants at the dance studio. They were all dressed in varying types of athleticwear—from Chloe in booty shorts and a sports bra to Juleka in a loose sweatshirt and pants.

Adrien approached one of the group standing to the side. “You chose to go with dancing?”

Sophie, if he remembered right, snorted and gestured to the cane in their hand. “I drew the short straw this time.”

“I…” He trailed off into silence as he started overthinking his next question, not wanting to offend.

“Don’t worry about me,” Sophie said. “I’ll do what I can, and I’ll sit on the side when I need to. I know my own limits.”

“Okay,” he said awkwardly. “Just, uh, have fun.”

“Adrien. Over here,” the producer who’d woken him up (he’d learned her name was Alya) said sharply, pulling him along by the arm. “Okay, stand there, lights are good, now introduce the celebrity guest to the ladies, and we are rolling!”

“Hey everyone,” Adrien said, able to instantly turn on the charm. “I’d like you all to meet a good friend of mine, who’s going to lead a dance class for us—Clara Nightingale!”

The contestants cheered and applauded as the popstar entered the studio, waving happily.

“Hello everyone, it’s great to meet you!” she cried. “Now let’s start the music and bust a groove!”

Music blasted into the room, and Clara started to show them a series of dance steps, encouraging the girls and Adrien to follow along. After it seemed like most of them had the hang of it, Adrien was sent out of the room.

“What’s going on now?” he asked Alya.

“They’re going to practice a little show for you, basically,” she replied. “You just wait out here. Sorry, Sunshine, but waiting for the girls to do something will be most of your day.”

“Fine by me,” he said with a shrug. “So, uh, where’s that other producer? Marinette?”

“Working with the Jagged Stone group,” Alya replied. “You’ll see her later today. And Nino’s got the XY group, so you’ll see him too.”

Adrien made a face on hearing the popstar’s name.

“Buck up, Sunshine, while the cameras are on you, you’re XY’s biggest fan.”

“Why do you call me that?” he asked.

“Sunshine? It’s your hair,” she replied. “That, and you’re a sweet guy. Never met anyone who met you and didn’t like you. Why, you hate the nickname or something?”

“Uh, thanks,” he said, smiling. “I don’t mind the name.”

**

Adrien was led back inside the room by an eager Clara. “The girls have worked so hard, it’s true! And now they’ll all dance just for you!”

He was directed to stand in the center of the room as the contestants lined up. They each danced across the room, performing a series of rehearsed moves around him, holding onto him and giving him a kiss on the cheek at the right timing of the music (except Sophie, who sat on the side and blew him a kiss).

But then, Chloe’s turn to dance came, and she kissed him right on the lips. He tried to hold her at arm’s length, but she was surprisingly strong.

“Okay, we got the shot, can someone get her off Sunshine?” Alya called. “Kid looks like he’s going to puke.”

A couple of cameramen wrestled Chloe away from Adrien, who barely had time to shoot a grateful glance towards Alya before he was hustled away to the next date.

**

“Hey, dude,” Nino greeted Adrien as he arrived at the recording studio. “You a fan of XY?”

“I’ve been told I am when the cameras are on,” he replied.

“Good enough for me. So, the girls have been practicing a song that he wrote, they’re going to sing it to you, you’re going to record a track with all of them. And then it goes on Spotify and no one remembers this shitty reality show song, but, hey, it’s all about fun, right?”

Adrien laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Fun and finding a wife.”

He sat in the studio, and the girls cycled in and out of the recording booth, a small space with a few instruments set up, each contestant singing the same few bars of a mediocre song. Something about loving life and wanting to be cool. Some of them were having fun, and some pulled faces, clearly not enjoying the song at all.

Adrien tried not to laugh too much, but one girl’s disgusted face and tone during the lyric “I wanna shake my booty and find a real cutie” drove him over the edge, causing him to bend over, coughing from how hard he was laughing.

“That was great!” he told Cherie as she exited the recording booth. “Loved it!”

She flashed a grin at him before Kagami stepped into the booth.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’d like to request that I play the music, instead of using the backing track.”

Adrien shrugged. “Works for me.”

Kagami sat down at the piano and began to play, her fingers deftly flying across the keys as she played the same melody—but without the synthesized beat on top of it, it sounded pretty good. The lyrics were unfortunately still the same, but her voice was strong and clear.

Behind the scenes, Nino directed the lights in the studio be lowered, except the booth light directly over Kagami’s head. Adrien didn’t notice, simply watched as she seemed to radiate brightness and everything around her faded.

When she finished, she looked out through the glass of the booth and asked, “How was that?”

“Amazing,” Adrien replied, giving her a genuine smile. “That was great.”

**

Adrien was shuttled to a much more familiar sight—a photo studio. He headed inside and was immediately pushed to a changing area and handed some clothes.

At least he knew what to do here. He changed into the outfit given to him, something very different from the usual stuff he wore for Gabriel. Dark ripped jeans, a graphic tee, black leather jacket—this was far more his style than what his father had ever designed, and it was actually comfortable, too.

Once changed, he found himself automatically walking over to the hair and makeup area, knowing what came next without even thinking. Marinette was standing at one of the makeup chairs, and waved at him, motioning him over.

“Hey!” she said brightly as he sat down. “So, did anyone tell you what’s going on?”

“Of course not,” he replied with an easy grin. “I know how to be a model, though.”

“Well, right now, the girls are picking out their outfits. This whole date thing is a makeover with Jagged Stone, so everyone’s going to be rock-and-roll!” She gave a quick air guitar riff as she imitated Jagged’s accent.

Adrien chuckled. “Nice. This actually sounds like fun.”

“So, since all the pro makeup artists are going to be on camera getting the girls ready, I’m filling in to help you,” she said. “You ready?”

“You do makeup too?” he asked in surprise, keeping his face otherwise still as she started to brush foundation onto his skin.

“Yeah, my dream as a kid was to be a fashion designer, so I spent most of high school teaching myself all different aspects of it—photography, makeup, hair, photoshop, all of it. Makeup is really fun, it’s like painting, but on skin.”

“So what led you to work in reality TV instead?” he asked.

“Oh, I had an internship, and then I got fired a few days in,” she replied. “Close your eyes for me? It’s funny, it actually was with Gabriel. I messed up someone’s coffee order, and I was told that if I couldn’t even get coffee details right, I wouldn’t be able to get clothing details right either, and I was out.”

“I’m so sorry,” Adrien said softly, opening his eyes and glancing up on her cue. “You shouldn’t have been fired over that.”

Marinette shrugged. “It’s okay. My best friends were working for Alec on his production team at the time, and they needed a new assistant, so I got the job. And it turns out, I’m really good at managing schedules and large groups of people, so, here I am.”

“Why didn’t you try to get a job with another fashion house?”

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked. “You know how big your father’s company is. Once you’ve been fired from there, no one wants you anymore. I’ve basically been blacklisted.”

He frowned. “That’s not right. You screwed up one coffee and you’re locked out of your dream industry for life? I’ve made way worse mistakes!”

“Not all of us are lucky enough to be born into the right industry, Adrien,” she said softly. “It’s fine, really. It’s been years, I’ve cried enough over it, I’m moving on and focusing on the now.”

He reached out, catching her wrist as she turned to grab a different brush. “Hey. It’s still not right, and if you want—I can talk to my father and at least get you a good recommendation.”

“I—I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve given up on that, I’m here now…I don’t know if I want to change my life around again.”

“Let me know, okay?” he asked. “You’ve been really nice to me, I want to help you.”

She grinned as she turned back to him. “All right. Just one more thing—is it okay if I touch you?”

“Uh, yes? I’m not really used to people asking that.”

Marinette frowned and bit her lip, but simply said, “You need to look like you’ve been passionately making out with your favorite girls, so—here.” She moved her thumb against his lower lip, smearing the red lipstick she’d put there for just this purpose.

Her fingertip was soft, and he felt just a small twinge of disappointment when she pulled her hand back.

“So!” she said, turning away from him. “Have you picked your girl for the private date?”

“Still thinking about it,” he replied. “I might choose Kagami, though.”

Marinette smiled, though she still wasn’t looking right at him. “Good call. She seems like one of the nice ones. Nino gets the bonus if you pick her, and he deserves it.”

“How many do I need to choose to get rid of, though?” Adrien asked.

“Four.”

“And I still can’t pick Lila?”

Marinette laughed. “No. You can’t pick Lila. Now, head over to the stage, say hi to Jagged for me, and do the modeling thing you’re so good at. I’ll see you later.”

**

Adrien barely remembered the photoshoot. It felt like nearly every other one he’d done, except that his fellow ‘models’ were trying to win his heart, and his favorite rockstar was yelling encouragement from the side.

The important thing he did pay attention to was Jagged Stone inviting them all to front-row seats at his concert that night.

After the cameras filmed him and the contestants dancing to one song, they miraculously went away, which meant the crew got to join in the crowd. Adrien found himself right beside Marinette, who grinned at him as she jumped and headbanged to the music, singing along as loud as possible.

**

Adrien’s next day was mostly free, but Nino stopped by the trailer to encourage him to come by the mansion and talk to all the girls, get to know them.

As he entered the mansion, he heard shouting, and headed over to see Lila yelling at Marinette, as the latter was restocking the wet bar for the girls.

“I saw you dancing with him!” Lila shouted. “You’re not even someone he should be looking at!”

“Yeah, you caught me dancing, at a concert,” Marinette replied sarcastically. “You do realize I’m pushing for you to win, right? I’m your producer, not your competition.”

“Then maybe you should do your job and produce instead of having your slut hands all over Adrien!”

Marinette just rolled her eyes as she stood up from the bar, then smiled. “Oh, hey, Adrien.”

Lila spun around, a wide grin on her face, all traces of anger gone. “Adrien, hi!” she cooed. “I had so much fun last night.”

“Really?” he asked, unable to stop the amused grin that crossed his face. “I don’t know, you seemed a little jealous.”

Her smile fell and she glared daggers at Marinette for just a moment before stuttering out, “W-well, of course! I don’t want to have to share you with all these women.”

“Try to be nice to them,” he said, gently admonishing. “It’s really important to me that you all get along. I don’t want anyone to be hurt here.”

“Of course,” Lila said, her tone syrupy sweet. “We’ll be all like sisters.”

Adrien glanced over at Marinette, who physically could not roll her eyes any harder, but gave him a thumbs up.

He smiled at her before leaving the room to explore the large house. He didn’t see everything before his eye was drawn by a large game room, set up with systems and arcade cabinets. Surely no one would mind if he played a few rounds of Ultimate Mecha Strike…

The contestants wandered in and out as he played, some of them joining him, others just watching. He didn’t pay that much attention until he heard a snort from the doorway.

“Video games? Really?” the woman, Josee, asked. “I thought we were all adults here.”

“Hey, I’m not giving up my ranking in UMS for anything,” he replied. “You want a round.”

“Uh, no.” With that, she turned and walked off.

Adrien sighed as he kept playing. At least this time the contestants were making his choice easy for him.

**

The cameras followed Adrien closely as he crossed through the mansion to find his date for the evening.

“Kagami,” he said, drawing her attention away from the book she was reading. “Would you do me the honor of being my date for this evening?”

She smiled. “I would love to.”

They ended up on a boat floating along the Seine. They were the only two people in the boat, but the cameras were set in other boats, tethered to the side. As they sailed down the river, they could hear snippets of music from the various concerts for the festival.

“I really liked what you did with XY’s song,” Adrien said. “You actually made it sort of good.”

Kagami smiled. “I don’t think anything could have saved that booty line.”

“Oh, no way,” he replied, laughing.

“Honestly, I wish I had met Clara,” Kagami said. “Or really, any other musician, if you can call XY a musician.”

Adrien leaned close and confessed, “I’ve been told I am a huge fan of his when the cameras are on, so…”

She laughed, moving her hand over her mouth to hide the noise.

“Your singing voice is great, by the way,” he said. “I liked listening to you.”

“And I really like talking to you,” she replied. “I hope I can get to know you a lot better.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on top of his. He just smiled, and laced his fingers with hers.

**

It was late when Kagami and Adrien arrived back at the mansion. The cameras caught him giving her a soft kiss on the cheek before they were both rushed off to prepare for the elimination ceremony.

Marinette was the one to bring Adrien the tray of guitar picks he’d be giving to the girls who stay. “You got this?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’m good. I can do this.”

“Damn, if private dates are going to chill you out that much, I can’t wait to see you after all the other ones,” she replied. “Good luck!”

The ceremony went by in a blur, with nearly no tears this time. Ondine, Christine, Josee, and Sophie were all asked to leave, and none of them had much argument or disappointment.

When it was over, Adrien headed back towards his trailer, passing Marinette talking to Kagami. The two girls shared a laugh over something, and he stopped in his tracks to watch them, smiling as all his stress from the day seemed to melt away.

He realized that maybe he would find love on this show, after all.

**

“Next time: Adrien and the girls give back to the local community! And are sparks flying between him and a certain somebody?”

[mirohed]

han jisung | better off dead (i’ll be juliet)

{ HAN JISUNG + GENDER NEUTRAL!READER }

zombie apocalypse au, college au, best friends to lovers

fluff, angst

10.5k

playlist / title insp (yes it’s a thg fansong from 8 years ago)

content warning: this work contains the following: copious amounts of swearing, the mention and underage consumption of alcohol, the mention and use of weapons (guns, knives, blunt weaponry), descriptions of violent acts, and character death. read at your own risk.

a/n: happy 100 (technically 107) days to me and jisung 💓💓 special thanks to @tyongu for screening this fic and giving me the motivation i needed to pick this fic back up from its 5 month long hiatus && to @offonoffs for being a fellow member of jisung nation & expressing interest in this fic ,, it means a lot. 

reviews are greatly appreciated !

You used to think that zombies weren't a realistic sort of monster—not as real as climate change or capitalism, anyway. They were better suited to being enjoyed from the comfort of your couch as you curled up with a bag of chips on a Friday night.

This, of course, all changes the night you get that fateful emergency alert.

You're at Chan's house when it happens. He's invited you and the rest of campus to his frat house for one of his famed end-of-semester ragers. He spots you not long after you enter, catching you in a one-armed embrace, full cup of beer in hand.

"Hey, glad you could make it! The night's still young, but Felix said he'd set his Switch up for some Smash up later. You should join them if you get the chance." A girl from your communications class (Ryujin?) calls out to him, waving him to join her and a few unfamiliar faces for a game of beer pong. "Sorry, duty calls. If you ever get tired of the beer, you know where to find the good stuff," he says, shooting you some quasi-finger guns and leaving you to fend for yourself.

You slip past a few couples pushing themselves up against the walls on your way to the kegs, and fill a cup of your own. Minho's there, leaned against the refrigerator and taking small sips of his drink. "Surprised you haven't switched to Woojin's vodka yet," you joke.

"Usually, I have no qualms about...sampling, but taking from him's a death wish." Taking another sip, he grimaces. "If that means putting up with the cheap shit all night, I'll take it." You mumbled an "amen," knocking your matching red cups together in a toast. You both regretted the swig you took.

"Yeah, I can't do this." You dump the shitty alcohol in the drain. "You know where Jisung is?"

"No clue."

"Damn. Well, if you manage to find something to sample, give me a call. I'm gonna go find him."

You scour the entire first level of the house, weaving through clouds of marijuana and vaguely cotton-candy scented vape juice. Unfortunately, your best friend is nowhere to be found. You don’t bother trying his phone; if he was drunk (which he probably was), all you’d get in response would be unintelligible cheers as he “gets his party on.” You ask around for a bit, but each new set of directions sounds more ridiculous than the last. (You're still not sure if Yukhei was drunk and fucking with you or being completely serious when he said Jisung wasn't at the party at all. You wouldn’t be surprised either way.)

You call it quits after about a half hour, trudging upstairs and feeling both hungry and a little sorry for yourself. Sure, you had other friends, but the one person you wanted to get wasted with was nowhere to be found.

As you head upstairs, you notice the bathroom door is wide open. A glance to your left is all it takes to see Hyunjin kneeling on the bathroom tile, puking his guts out as Jisung rubs his back in a feeble attempt to provide comfort. You make eye contact with Jisung, and he nods his head in the direction of Chan's room at the end of the hall. "'Lix set the Switch up, but Hyunjin's busy being a lightweight." He shoots Hyunjin a withering look, but Hyunjin's too preoccupied to notice. "Take over for me? He picked Isabelle, and we both know how bad I get my ass kicked when he does," he grumbles, helping Hyunjin stand on both legs. "We'll join you guys in a few."

You're planning your victory against Felix (Jisung probably picked Lucario for the "cool factor," which didn’t mean much when all he did in rounds was button mash and hope for the best) when your phone goes off, loud and insistent. Jisung's goes off less than a second later, with Hyunjin's buzzing on the bathroom counter. Based on the way Felix pokes his head out of the door, phone in hand, you can only assume he got it too.

The official alert glares up at you, a few simple sentences in all capital letters.

EMERGENCY ALERT

ZOMBIE OUTBREAK. THE DISEASE IS CONTAGIOUS. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

You exchange a look with Jisung and Felix, all seeming to share one thought: This is bad. You had heard news of this disease before; highly contagious, with nonspecific symptoms that were often misdiagnosed until it was too late and necrosis set in. Scientists had found out that it was a mutation of a disease that was supposed to have been eradicated a century ago. 

Even people that were updated with their vaccinations could catch it; it was transferable via bodily fluids. If someone infected so much as got a drop of saliva or sweat on you, you were at risk.  ("Just goes to show you what happens when people don't vaccinate their fuckin' kids," Minho had said, changing the channel to a rerun of Friends.)

Chan shuts the party down, kicking everyone sober enough to walk out and housing the wasted. He urges them all to find shelter and head for safety as he waves them out. "Listen, if you ever need anything, I'm just a call away," he tells you as you return to your dorm.

Seungmin, the frat's designated driver for the night (that’s a lie—it was supposed to be Changbin, but he conveniently “forgot” and left the job to Seungmin), gives you a ride back at Jisung's request. ("I'm not letting you walk back and get infected," he had insisted, arms crossed.)

The first thing you do after getting home is call him. You spend most of the video call packing your bags, just in case, tossing cans and clothes into the biggest bags you can find.

"I'm starting to think those apocalypse planners had the right idea," you say, trying to cram another bottle of water into your bag. "I could use an apocalypse bunker right about now."

Jisung dries his freshly washed hair, draping the towel around his neck. "Maybe we should beg them for shelter."

"Maybe."

“Remember when we had that plan to build our own bunker back in high school? I wish we never threw those plans away.”

“Wasn’t it you that was like ‘we’re never gonna use these, what’s the point?’” you tease, voice dropping an octave to mock Jisung. “I, for one, always thought they were a good idea.”

“But you let me throw them away!” You put down the shirt you’re folding and plug your ears, shouting that you can’t hear him. He calls you a child, but the conversation makes you feel better about what might happen after tonight.

You’ll be fine, you tell yourself as you lie awake that night. This is just in case things go to shit.

Surprise, surprise, it doesn’t even take a full week before things go to shit.

"Get in!" Jisung shouts, driving down the road at a reasonable enough speed for you to keep up with. You don't bother asking why he has a horde of zombies chasing (hobbling, really) after him. Instead, you sprint behind him, tossing your bags into the truck bed before leaping on yourself.

"Where'd you come from?" you ask, panting as he hits the gas and barrels down the road. There are a few bags, full to bursting, in the trunk with you. "The city?"

"Yeah. We're going back." Your head cranes to look at him from the glass window at the back of his hand-me-down pickup truck in surprise. "Felix is out there somewhere, and we're not leaving him behind. Chan took the others, and we're meeting up with them after we pick 'Lix up. I called Chan earlier, so the cell towers should still be up by the time we get there."

"Can't we meet him halfway? No offense, but if we go back, we're gonna fucking die."

There's no compromise. The ride's silent, save the wind whistling in your ears as Jisung drives as fast as he can (it takes him awhile to realize he can go way over the speed limit; what are the cops gonna do, stop him?) Going back might not be a bad idea anyway; he needs more fuel to keep his truck up and running, and you don’t know about him, but you’re not exactly prepared to hunker down for the long term.

It's absolute chaos in the city. Buildings burn in the distance, smoke billowing out into otherwise clear blue skies. Corpses of the undead (who are now, with any luck, actually dead) litter the streets. People have already gone feral, welcomed the lawlessness of the new world with open arms. You turn down familiar streets and see families in a hurry to leave their homes and get out of the city as fast as possible.

"You stay here," Jisung says, parking across the street from the nearest megamart. You can barely make out the action going on outside the store, but you don't think there'll be much left for Jisung to take by the time he gets there. "Call Felix. I'm gonna see what I can take."

You sit on the roof of the truck, Jisung's worn old baseball bat (now outfitted with barbed wire) in hand. Trying not to cut yourself on the sharp edges, you call Felix.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank god. I was scared the cell towers were already down. Where are you?"

"I made it to the outskirts of the city. There's a house up here. Jisung'll know where it is, we come up here all the time.”

“Alright. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, just a little shaken up, of course,” he laughs. “Didn’t think this was how I’d be spending my time after finals.” You murmur an agreement, and he continues talking. “Don't waste your battery, alright? See you guys soon." He hangs up, and your fingers itch with the urge to text someone, make another call, but Felix was right. It's not like Instagram's up right now; everyone's got bigger things to worry about.

After what feels like an eternity, Jisung comes running with a full backpack and...a suitcase?

"Where's Felix?" he pants, handing you the heavy suitcase and tossing the backpack in the back of the truck.

"He's in a house on the outskirts of the city? He told me you'd know where it was."

"Should've known. We gotta haul ass, though—I might've pissed off, like, a ton of people." Your eyes widen; there is, in fact, a group of angry people headed your way as you take a seat in the truck bed. Jisung floors it before any of them come close, letting them eat his dust.

“Where is this house anyway?” You’re yelling over the wind, but Jisung catches it nonetheless.

“The frat’s been going there for years, I heard. It’s some tradition to get shitfaced there for initiation, so we all had to go and drink whatever Minho gave us. I must’ve blacked out, because I barely remember it. We go up there sometimes, when we need to get away.”

You leave the city and go off-road, running over new grass. There's a house you've never seen before at the top of a small hill, and it's there that you see Felix. He's managed to attract one of the damn things, but he's definitely holding his own against it, landing a few impressive roundhouse kicks on it. He's whacking at it with a metal rod when you drive up the hill, but the zombie catches on and turns it into a game of tug-of-war.

Wrenching the rod away, he returns to kicking at it, staggering the zombie with one good hit to the ribs.

But the zombie seems to have caught on to that too, and it's as you pull up to the house that it grabs onto his leg and sinks his teeth into him. Felix cries out, his skin punctured and blood dripping onto the grass underfoot. He tries to yank his leg back, but can’t seem to summon the strength, his other leg hopping about to maintain balance.

Now that he's injured, the zombie drags Felix closer, clawing at his head before—

You can't watch, and neither can Jisung. There’s a sickening crunch, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

The next thing you see is Jisung running the fucker over. A distant part of you wonders if that's bad for the car, but it doesn't feel like you're there in the moment at all.

It's like you're watching the whole thing from a third-person view. You see yourself leap from the truck bed as soon as Jisung shifts the truck into park. You can almost see the seed of unease, of we're-so-screwed begin to sprout in the pit of your stomach. 

You can’t tear your eyes from Felix’s body. He’s lying face down (thankfully), but he’s stained the grass red, his leg twisted at an odd angle. You can make out the scratches along the side of his cheek from here, skin broken and bleeding. 

It’s red. It’s all red. Everywhere you look, it’s—

And then you're back in your own body, throwing the car door open to yell at him. "You fuckin' idiot!" you hiss. "Why'd you do that?" Definitely not the right thing to say, but you can't take anything back now.

"What do you think? I killed it before it could kill us." He ventures into the house, purposefully shoving past you with a harsh bump of his shoulder. You follow despite his clipped tone and tense shoulders. Together, you loot the house. Jisung seems to know where everything is, handing you everything from bags of chips stored away to bottles of whiskey. (You're about to ask about the alcohol when he mutters "Molotov." You figure it's not the only use they've got.)

You come upon Felix's pack. It's the backpack he used during the school year, most of the space taken up by his clothes. Jisung shoulders the bag wordlessly before turning to leave. All you can do is follow behind.

You watch the sun set as the busted speakers play some playlist he must have put together. (You admit it'd be a good road trip playlist if not for the fact that you were in the middle of the zombie apocalypse.) His knuckles are white against the wheel, and part of you wants to talk about what happened, but you take one look at his clenched jaw and hold your tongue.

Night falls. The two of you camp out in some crop-bearing fields. He starts a fire and speaks for the first time in hours.

"Do you want to take the first shift or should I?" He's looking right at you, but there's none of the usual light in his eyes. 

You think that when Felix died, part of Jisung died with him. 

You end up taking the first shift, judging time based on the occasional glance at your phone. You keep an eye and an ear out, watching the fire frame Jisung's sleeping face in subtle orange.

He doesn't want to talk about it, you tell yourself. And who would? You're not exactly eager to bring the topic up yourself. You lean back on your hands as you try to think of anything except what happened to Felix.

Before long, you nudge him awake. He's a little disgruntled, but you bug him until he sits up. "Yeah, yeah. I'm up. Get some rest." You curl up in the sleeping bag (Felix's sleeping bag, but you're still trying not to think about it) and shut your eyes.

The fire crackles lowly. You hear Jisung's bones crack as he stretches. You don't sleep.

When you crack your eyes open after god knows how long, the sky is still dark. "Can't sleep?"

"What do you think?" The corner of his mouth quirks up, just a bit. You swear you hear a faint chuckle. "You know we have to keep going, right? Without..."

"You can just say it, you know. Without Felix. Without our best friend."

"Yeah. Without our best friend." You cast the sleeping bag aside, staring at the flames. He pats the grass next to him, and you crawl over to his side. When he wraps an arm over your shoulder, traces meaningless patterns and letters into your arm, you don't complain. Maybe you even lean into his touch, knowing that it might be you and Jisung versus the world for awhile.

You think you're fine with that.

When the sun rises, you and Jisung make plans to meet up with Chan and the others; there's some safety to be found in numbers, after all. Neither of you mention having to tell them what happened to Felix.

Jisung calls Chan. Then Minho. Then Woojin. Then Seungmin. Then Changbin. Then Jeongin, who's still in his last year of high school, but is an unofficial member of the fraternity regardless. Then, as a last resort, he calls Hyunjin. Nobody picks up. Changbin and Minho's phones don't even ring, instead kicking him straight to voicemail. "Maybe their phones died," you offer.

"Disappointed, but not surprised." He pockets his phone with a huff. "The cell towers are probably down. How's the radio?" You've been playing with the radio while Jisung tried calling his friends, trying to find a signal.

"I'm about to rip out the stupid dial and crush the damn thing under my foot, but other than that I'm good," you snipe, throwing him a look and a fake smile. You turn the dial all the way in one direction, more than a little annoyed at all the static you seem to be catching. To your surprise, you hear broken, unintelligible chatter. You move the radio between you two, chasing after the signal.

"-vivors...proceed to... -ary base...infec... -on entry...supplies will be rationed...gates will close once maximum capacity has been reached." The message cuts out less and less as you fiddle with the radio, and once you wait for the announcement to repeat, the full message plays.

"Attention, all survivors. If possible, we ask that you proceed to the nearest military base or encampment. The military will be on patrol to execute zombies and the infected as well as rescue clean civilians and bring them to the nearest base. All civilians will be checked for infection upon entry and routinely throughout their stay. Supplies will be rationed for as long as possible. Gates will close once maximum capacity has been reached."

You and Jisung exchange a look as the message plays once more. When he breaks into a wide grin, you mirror it with a smile of your own. "We're saved!" he cheers, wrapping you in a big hug and knocking the radio on its side. You relax in his embrace, sighing into it. You don't make any moves to break the hug, and neither does he, even after it stretches on longer than a hug between friends should.

"One problem…” you start, voice muffled as you speak into his shirt, “where's the nearest military base?"

There’s a small hospital up ahead, the white building stark against all the browns and greens you two have been seeing the past few days. “Should we check it out?” Jisung asks, eyes flitting to you. “You never know when we’d need medicine or bandages.” 

“No. Before you ask why, I know we’re gonna run into zombies. I can feel it in my bones.” Jisung flattens his lips into a straight line, clearly unhappy with your verdict.

“Your bones don’t know shit.”

“Picture this: first semester of our freshman year of college, right before midterms. You’re barely passing your world history class because you don’t go to lecture. I help you cram for two days straight and tell you I can feel you getting an A in my bones,” you say, clenching your fist to emphasize your point. “When you get your midterm results back, you got an A, not only on the test…”

“...but in the class,” Jisung finishes with a roll of his eyes. “Okay, fair point. But what if you got hurt and I couldn’t save you because I didn’t have the medicine for it?” He’s pulling into the parking lot, but doesn’t shift the truck into park. You can still talk him out of it.

“Then you just let me die? It’s not that deep. Like yeah, it’d suck, but at that point there’d be nothing you could do.” 

His voice is so earnest that it forces your eyes to snap to him. “We both know I can’t do that.” There’s something behind his words, an undercurrent carrying a feeling you can’t name. Carding dirty nails through his hair, he gnaws on his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna risk it. Besides, it’s out in the middle of nowhere. I doubt there’ll be too many zombies. You sure you don’t wanna come with?”

He stares at you, and you groan, giving in. “God, park the truck somewhere more discreet. We both know I’m gonna have to bail your ass out anyway,” you sigh, opening the glove compartment and withdrawing the knife Jisung had nabbed from the frat house’s kitchen. “Might as well come with and save myself the trouble of going in there to find you.”

“That’s the spirit,” he grins, and you feel like you’ve been played.

The inside of the hospital’s dark and completely devoid of that sterile scent you don’t want to admit you liked. Instead, there’s a musty smell that pervades the building, and your nose wrinkles as you take deep breaths in an attempt to get yourself acclimated to it. “Stay close to me,” you tell him. “I don’t want you wandering off.”

“You think I’m gonna get lost? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

He doesn’t respond, instead muttering something under his breath. “Whatever. Let’s see if we can find something.”

You creep along the corridors, breathing as light as possible. The whole hospital seems to be moth-eaten and abandoned, but you’re not sure if you and Jisung are alone or not. The rooms you enter are a mixed bag; you manage to get to the small cafeteria and bag some soon-to-be stale chips as well as several bottles of water, but you don’t get much in the way of medicine.

“Where do they keep all the medicine anyway?” you ask, turning away from the spoiled ice cream in the mini freezer, nose wrinkled. The light bulb goes off in Jisung’s head, and he smacks his face with his hand.

“The pharmacy. They keep the medicine at the pharmacy.” You take a water bottle and make as if you’re going to whack him with it when you hear a noise. Both you and Jisung tense at the clattering of equipment from outside the cafeteria. You two stick your heads out the door, Jisung scanning the left side and you scanning the right. The coast looks clear, so Jisung leads the way out the way you came.

You’re almost home free when you spot a zombie ambling about at the end of the hall, back turned to you. Jisung holds up his palm, signalling for you to stop moving. “Okay, what now?” you ask.

“It’s just one zombie,” he starts. “Give me the knife, I got this.” He hands you the backpack with everything you’ve looted, and you hesitate before giving him the only weapon you two have. He sneaks up on the zombie, getting closer and closer…

And then it rears its ugly head, letting out an ugly gurgling noise that scares the shit out of you. One arm’s in a sling and the other hangs limp; you don’t think broken arm would bother the undead too much. It charges, quicker than either of you were expecting (did zombies that were athletic as humans keep that athleticism?) and almost smothers Jisung, who loses his balance and falls hard on his hands. He manages to roll to the side in time for it to knock its head against the smooth tile floor.

“Change of plans,” he says, zombies dressed in scrubs and hospital gowns alike beginning to come out from the corner of the hall, “we’re leaving!” You help him up, slamming your heel on the neck of the zombie that almost attacked Jisung. There’s a satisfying crunch, and then you two are off, turning corner after corner trying to escape. 

You don’t stop running until your feet hit cement instead of tile. You don’t stop moving until you’re both in the truck, trying to catch your breath. “You were right,” his voice is shaky, and you take his hand in yours, squeeze it in an attempt to calm him down. “We shouldn’t have gone.”

Even after his breathing returns to normal, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

You're not sure when things start to change between you and Jisung. Maybe it's when you catch yourself staring at him as he drives, right hand on the wheel and the left resting on the lowered window. (He insisted on keeping the windows down as much as possible; the air conditioning in his truck was busted, “just like the rest of the damn thing.”)

Maybe it's when you stop bothering with arguments over who takes the couch and who takes the bed. You've slept in the same bed before, sure, but that was when you were children. You remember the night it started, not long after the trip to the hospital:

You wake up with fingers already tangled in the sheets, a cold sheen of sweat on your forehead. Every blink of your eyes treats you to the sight that haunted your nightmares: Felix, one of your best friends, with eyes gouged out and flesh hanging from his cheek as he opens his mouth so wide his jaw unhinges. His tongue sits lamely in his bloody mouth as he lets loose an unending wail—

You can’t stay here. You force yourself out of bed and find Jisung still awake, staring down at his hands in the darkness. He seems to hear you coming, because he says, “You too?” before you’re even in the living room proper.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He feels around for the lantern that was left behind when the former residents evacuated and flicks it on, the warm yellow light a welcome sight. You both take a seat on the couch Jisung had been sleeping on as you try to find the words to describe your nightmare.

“It was Felix. We were at school and I...I saw him from behind, and it’s like we were all alright again. I was calling out to him from across campus, but he couldn’t hear me. Then I turned him around and then…” You shudder, and Jisung’s quick to wrap the blanket he took for himself around you. “He looked like he did after that day we found him. His mouth wouldn’t stop opening. I-” You don’t even notice your hands are shaking until he takes them in his own.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Take your time.”

“I miss him, Jisung. I miss when the three of us would fuck around and spend all our money on food and video games and have to cram just to pass our classes. I miss having to kick his ass in Smash because you never could. I miss our group calls where we make fun of him for playing Fortnite because it’s not relevant anymore.” 

“I know,” he shushes, pulling you into his arms. “I miss him too. He was in my dream, at the very beginning.” He tucks your head under his chin. “It was the night of the party and he told me not to do something stupid because I could lose you. Next thing I knew, we were at the hospital and it was you facing those zombies and not me. They,” he swallows heavily, “they got you. All I did was stand there. And then I was all alone.” You stay silent, twisting the ends of his hair between your fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss college.”

“You and me both.” Before long, you switch the lantern off, breathing becoming steady. Your eyes get heavier and heavier until you let yourself fall into a deep sleep.

Sleeping by his side wills away most of the nightmares. You get the best rest you've gotten since the night it all started, so good that after that night, you rarely sleep apart.

(You ignore the twinge of...something in your heart when you wake up first. There's something about his sleeping face that makes him look at peace, something about the way his arms snake around you as soon as you lie down next to him, that makes you feel something you think you shouldn't be feeling.)

"Do you think we'll make it?" he asks one night. You're both sitting cross-legged in the back of his truck, taking inventory. He picked up a map from one of the houses you've been squatting in on the way; you're halfway to the base. "Survive, I mean. Not just long enough to get to the fort, but...you know. In general." You glance up from the knife in your hands, humming.

"I hope so. Besides," you start, dragging the knife along the sharpening stone, "we've made it through everything so far, haven't we?"

"Yeah," he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit, "we have." The stars wink down at you as you work under the light of the moon and a small lantern. With any luck, things will get better once you've reached the safety of the base.

You open and close the drawers of the house you and Jisung have stopped at to gather supplies, trying to find something to take with you. The house hasn't been ransacked yet (or at least, you don't think so; the locks were in place and everything looked tidy before you broke in), but the owners sure did a good job of clearing the place out. No canned goods, no bottles of water, nothing except for some office supplies and a worrying amount of rubber duckies in the bathroom.

The lights are all off, and you're pretty sure that the house's supply of running water ran out a long time ago. The midsummer heat makes your clothes stick to your skin just as uncomfortably as the duct tape you and Jisung have taken to wearing along your arms and legs. After what happened at the hospital, Jisung didn’t want to take any risks, no matter how much you both sweat under the adhesive.

You're poring over the drawers in the bathroom when your eyes get drawn to a small box in the corner of your vision. It's a little beat up, but the saccharine pink and white box grins up at you all the same. You're not quite sure what use Hello Kitty bandaids would serve—they're not even that big, really, the most they could do is patch up a paper cut—but you do know they'd make Jisung smile.

And if you're being honest, you've come to miss that smile. It's been hard to come by recently.

Nobody breathes a word about the change in dynamic. There's no angsty "what are we" talk that threatens both your friendship and your budding relationship. It's just you and Jisung, the same as it's always been. 

You get used to resting your head on his lap, to having his hand interlaced with yours as he drives. You throw away the excuse of sleeping together “to get rid of the nightmares” (though that’s still a very compelling reason). The word boyfriend is always on the tip of your tongue, but at this point, labels like that don’t mean much.

You learn to enjoy the little things, the way the blues and blacks of night fade into pinks and purples with streaks of pale orange to greet the world each morning. You learn to enjoy the little things, like the weight of Jisung’s head on your shoulder as you run your thumb down the side of his hand. It’s humbling, you think, how the sun rises and sets, how the world keeps spinning despite it all. No matter how much has changed, some things stay the same.

”You ever realize how insignificant we are?” you ask one morning, eyes focused on the sky above. “Life goes on, with or without us.”

”Yeah,” he shifts to look up at you from his place in the crook of your neck, “but you know what?” You hum as the birds begin chirping, signifying the start of the day, eyes closed as you bask in the morning glow. “I don’t think I could ever feel too insignificant when I’m with you.”

You scoot away, causing Jisung to start whining. “We’re in the middle of the zombie apocalypse and you’re flirting with me?” you scoff, incredulous.

“And you’re surprised?” He’s got this cheeky smile on his stupid face that you swear makes the world, your world, a better place. You lean in, pressing your lips to his for just a second. With your eyes closed, it feels like you’re a normal couple watching the sun rise on a normal world. It feels like nothing is wrong, and you’re right where you’re meant to be.

You’re digging through your backpack to find the beat up paperback you were planning to finish reading and use as fuel for the occasional fires you and Jisung would light when camping out when a set of Polaroids fall out of your bag. You’d crammed them in there long before the thought of a zombie apocalypse ever crossed your mind. There’s one that catches your eye from the night you celebrated your joint graduation with Jisung. (Seungmin and Hyunjin went to different high schools, and Felix was still in Australia at this point; you’d meet all of them on the day of orientation.)

It was the largest party you’ve ever been to, with your families and your friends taking up all the parking in the neighborhood. Avoiding awkward conversation with aunties and uncles was your specialty, and you spent much of the night dodging questions like “So what are you planning to major in?” and “Are you dating that Jisung kid?” 

There were drinks in the cooler that you were expressly told not to touch (not like that stopped you both from sneaking out two beers and chugging them in your room, away from prying eyes), music playing from the Bluetooth speaker you’d never used, and laughter everywhere you looked. 

“Can’t believe we’re adults now,” you said, one arm dangling off the side of your bed. “Feels like I only met you yesterday.” You set the bottle down on your carpet, eyes focused on your ceiling fan as it did its rotations.

“I’m glad we’re going to the same college,” he confessed, setting his bottle on your nightstand before you barked at him to put it on the carpet lest the condensation damage the wood. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jisung’s parents had brought out a cake, the icing congratulating you two on graduating from high school. All eyes were on you as you held the knife just above the cake, and you felt weightless as the blade divvied up the dessert.

“Wait, I wanna do it too,” Jisung whispered, bumping shoulders with you.

“What? No, this is my house.”

“Well, my parents were the ones who bought the cake!”

You try to think of a retort, but when none comes, you hand him the knife. “Here. Don’t mess it up.”

“I never mess up,” he said as you took the biggest chunk of cake for yourself. You watched him cut the cake into what were initially equal portions, but grew less and less balanced as the cake went on.

“See,” you told him once the cake was all gone, “what’d I tell you?” You take a dollop of the cake’s whipped cream and planted it on his nose.  “You never listen, Han Jisung.” 

It’s then that a flash went off, stunning you both. Yeji grinned as she handed you the developing Polaroid. “Save it for the wedding,” she joked. (It makes you sad to know that although you stayed relatively close in high school, you lost touch in college. You smile when you see each other on campus, but it’s not the same.)

“What are you looking at?” Jisung asks, pulling you back to the present. You stare down at the image, the almost child-like smiles on your faces. It feels like a lifetime ago, when things were easier and the unknown was something you thought you were ready for.

“Remember our grad party?” He takes one look at the picture and you swear you see the lines of stress on his forehead fade away as he laughs at the face he’s making in the photograph.

“God, I miss those days.”

"There it is." The base stands tall, barbed wire promising shelter from the uncertainty of whether you'd spend the day forced to fight for your life or not. You drum your fingers on your thighs as you approach the entrance, chest full to bursting with anticipation. You're half listening to Jisung's stupid hour-long playlist, half relieved that you managed to find a base so close.

He stops at the gate, waiting for a guard to emerge and check you two for signs of infection. He takes your hand in his, squeezing it tight. This is it, the gesture says, we're gonna be okay.

You wait.

You wait some more.

Your hands get sweaty.

"Is anyone there? You'd think for a military base, they'd have someone come out by now." Jisung turns the volume of the car speakers all the way down. He's met with the noises of his truck's engine...and an incessant scratching at the gate.

Exchanging a look, you hop out of the car and try to peek through the slits of the covered chain-link fence. Your first mistake is getting too close; they all seem to catch your scent and greet you with a chorus of grunts and groans as the horde focuses their attention on you.

Your second mistake is looking too closely at who's behind the fence. You make eye contact with the husk of a man, a glazed look in his eyes and skin broken along one side of his face from where he’s been clawing at it. He's dressed in all black, and when you take a second glance (you really shouldn't have), you realize he looks like someone you know. You're almost certain that if he smiled, you'd see dimples. You're almost certain that if you could see his hair—torn out in clumps, his scalp bloody—it would be curly since he wouldn't have access to a straightener in the middle of nowhere.

"Chan?" you whisper. There's no response, but a taller figure pushes into him, forcing his way to the front. When his mouth opens, all you can see are swollen, bloody gums and blackening teeth from weeks of neglect. Despite that, you know exactly who this is. You've tag-teamed toilet duty with Jisung at enough parties to know what Hyunjin's neck and back look like as he lurches forward, trying to ram the gate. "Oh shit." Felix and Jisung did say that Chan took the rest of the boys somewhere, didn't they?

That conversation feels like a lifetime ago, when the term "zombie apocalypse" was just the name of an overdone genre. It was better suited to being viewed from the comfort of your couch on a Friday night and Han Jisung by your side to complain about the shitty effects and act like he wouldn't need to sleep over because he'd get too scared to drive home.

You creep back to the truck, taking slow steps backward to avoid alerting the horde more than you already have. Releasing a heavy breath when you slip into the passenger seat, you try not to think about what you saw. Jisung looks at you expectantly, and you can't bring yourself to break his heart even more. He's already lost his best friend; you don't have the heart to tell him that the rest of his friends, his found family, are most likely locked behind that gate as well.

"You okay? What'd you find?"

"Just some zombies, nothing important. Let's go."

The first time you kill a zombie with a gun, it doesn't end well.

Sure, the deed is done and the zombie's dead (like really, fully dead), but it's what comes after that sucks.

You’re on a supply run, a hunting rifle you jacked from an abandoned house in your hands. You guess the house must not have been as abandoned as you thought, since there are two zombies in front of you and Jisung. You've come to notice that zombies get slobbery. The sight of decomposing flesh slick with saliva isn't very appealing, and that's not including the stench of it all. 

No matter which way you slice it, eau de zombie just isn't for you.

You don't have much experience when it comes to firing a gun. (Or any experience, really.) But you figure it's an aim-and-shoot sort of situation, right? You've seen Felix play video games before, and he's always made it seem simple. So you line the barrel of the gun up with their heads and pull the trigger. One. Two. Three.

The shots echo, and for a moment, you feel on top of the world as the first zombie falls backwards, blood oozing from the bullet's exit hole.

But in that moment, you also realize that recoil is a bitch when you're not prepared, and the second shot misses the other one entirely, the gun skewed too far to the left. You stumble back into the kitchen island, but Jisung's quick enough on his feet to decapitate the remaining zombie without much trouble.

"Hey, you know what I remembered?" he asks, wiping zombie blood from his brow.

"What?"

"Guns make noise."

"Yeah, no—shit." With those gunshots, you gave away your location to any unfriendly forces, human or not.

"You don't think zombies have working ears, do you?" You hit the kitchen with renewed vigor, gathering some essentials—a few knives, some canned goods left behind—and set the rifle down.

"I don't wanna find out. And even if they don't, other humans sure as hell do." He turns the house upside down looking for more bullets. If there is a higher power out there, you guess they must be looking out for you, because the former owners of the house left their safe unlocked. You decide to relieve them of their two pistols and every bit of ammunition you can get your hands on.

Of course, if there is a higher power out there, you guess they must be fucking with you, because minutes after getting back on the road, you hear the roaring of motorcycle engines. They surround Jisung's truck, and their leader stares you both down before yanking his black mask down and rapping two knuckles on the window Jisung forgot to roll down.

"You two should've known better than to wander 'round here," he tuts, running a finger through his hair. "So young, too. Almost makes me feel bad for what I'm about to do." To one of his cronies, he barks, "Mingi! Take what's in the trunk." You don't see this Mingi person, but you feel the truck get weighed down as he leaps on and loots everything worth taking. "Don't take it personally. At the end of the day, it's all about survival. I've got eight mouths to feed, and you've only got two. Only makes sense that we should, ah...relieve you of some of that weight you’re carrying."

Jisung's fuming, fists clenched in his lap, but you know he sees the guns slung along their backs and holstered at their hips and stays silent. The pistols you two picked up are in the glove compartment, and the ammo's strategically buried underneath a pile of clothes at your feet. It's okay, you try to tell him, meeting his eyes. We prepared for this.

One of the leader's other cohorts pulls his own black mask down and whispers into the leader's ear. When he's given permission to speak, the young man looks straight at Jisung and asks, "Are you Han Jisung?"

"Who's asking?" Jisung shoots you a look, but you can only shrug in response.

"There was a group of guys looking for their friend. Their description matched your face, but I guess it doesn't matter now. They went to the base a couple miles south." The young man nods in the direction of the base you were at only a couple days before. "Probably more undead than alive at this point."

"What...do you mean by that?"

"He means," their leader snaps, "that the military base down south got infected. Don't know when. But it was a group of seven, led by some guy named Chad or Chan or something. We tried to get 'em to join, but they were deadset on finding shelter.” He snorts. “Their funeral."

Mingi's finished taking your things, so the leader and the younger man (you catch his name when the leader calls out to him—Wooyoung?) pull on their masks and take off, leaving you and Jisung in the middle of the road. He's silent again, driving down the vast expanse of nothingness with only his playlist to serve as background noise.

"Where to now?" you try, eyes searching his face to gauge his reaction.

"Did you know?" It's a whisper you almost don't hear over the wind in your ears.

"Did I know what?"

"Did you know that they were..." He doesn't finish his sentence. The way your mouth clamps shut, gaze falling to your lap, tells him everything he needs to know.

His grip tightens on the wheel, and you jolt forward when he comes to an abrupt halt, throwing open the door and walking off, slamming it behind him. "Jisung?" You follow him out, but he whirls around to face you, face scrunched as he crooks a finger in your direction.

"You lied to me!"

"Look-"

"I fucking trusted you! You were the only person I had left! I saw my best friend get murdered with my own two fucking eyes!” He’s blinking back tears as he shouts at you. “I've spent god knows how long hoping that the rest of my friends were alive, and the fact that you saw them on that base...the fact that you fucking lied to me..." He takes a deep breath, eyes screwed shut. It’s silent for a long time. His shoulders loosen, hands falling flat, but when he opens his eyes, you feel a chill run down your spine. He's built a concrete wall between you two, locking you out with four simple words: "You're on your own."

"Jisung, what-"

"You heard me." The sentence is curt. He's wiped away years of friendship and whatever romance you might've had all in one fell swoop. (But maybe you did that yourself when you lied to him.) "You're on your own." He enunciates each syllable as clearly as possible, lacing them with as much venom as possible. You wither under his gaze.

He tosses one of the pistols at your feet. No extra ammo; you only get what's already loaded. He drives off without you, and you're left with nothing but the bag you packed that first night, a pistol, and the clothes on your back.

So yeah, the first time you kill a zombie with a gun, it doesn't end well.

You learn how to get by alone, rationing what's left in your bag and clinging to the shadows to avoid a fight. You learn to ignore the rumble in your stomach in favor of focusing on other things, like the distant noise of motorcycles. (You hold your breath when you hear them, pray they don't come close. They’ve taken enough from you already.)

It's lonely. You and Jisung might not have always agreed on everything, but the weight of solitude, real solitude, drags you down like a ball and chain fastened to your ankles, making each step forward unbearable. Some nights, you see his truck parked in the distance, in the garage of old houses or partially masked by foliage. You want to approach him, beg for forgiveness, beg for what you had back.

Instead you tiptoe past, giving the vehicle a wide berth.

You spend some mornings thumbing through the rest of the Polaroids you have. Most of them (unsurprisingly) are of you and Jisung. There’s one of him posing in front of the most expensive cheesecake shop in town (he’d been drooling at the window displays for weeks), one of you facing the ocean, back turned to the camera (you begged him to go for spring break), and one Hyunjin took of you two playing beer pong at one of the frat’s many parties (you were never quite sure why drunk Jisung had better aim than sober Jisung; you ended up losing these matches).

You don’t know why you do it. You know that taking a trip down memory lane is the single worst thing to be doing, but you do it anyway. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe you miss Jisung. 

Maybe you miss yourself.

The next time you see Jisung, you're in a convenience store infested with zombies. You weren't planning to enter, having heard the tell-tale noises of confrontation, but you caught a glimpse of who was doing the fighting and couldn't walk away.

Jisung's backed up against a corner, trying to beat away the zombies surrounding him with a hatchet. (Keyword being trying: he's just one guy against five disgusting bags of meat trying to kill him.) You see blood all over him, dripping onto the floor, and decide to intervene. He should be grateful when you bash their heads in with his barbed baseball bat, left discarded across the store, but—

"I had that under control."

"Jisung, I-"

"Save it." He wipes the blade of the hatchet on the ragged pants of one of the creatures that attacked him. "Thanks. And keep the bat. You look like you need it."

"Jisung, just listen to me."

"What could you possibly have to say to me? The damage has been done."

"I was trying to protect you!" He rolls his eyes, and you're worried he'll walk away, but his feet stay planted. "How was I supposed to tell you that all your friends got infected, huh? How do you tell someone that? Hell, I wasn't even sure if it was them!" He refuses to meet your gaze, refuses to respond. "Dammit, Jisung..." You screw your eyes shut, but there’s not even a hint of reaction from him.

“You know what, if you’re not gonna listen to me, then fine. I’ll go.” Swivelling on the balls of your feet, you make to walk away, to return to solitude. You don’t look back.

“Wait!” There’s a desperate tone to it that almost makes you want to cave, almost makes you want to return to what life was before you reached the base. You barely manage to keep your head forward, even as you stop in your tracks.

“What?”

"I'm sorry.” His voice comes out soft, something above a whisper but far below his normal speaking voice. “I thought about it after I kicked you out, and you were right. I wouldn't have told me either. Guess I was too stubborn to admit I was wrong," he chuckles. "If you don't forgive me, I get that. You can take some of my food, and we can part ways again, but for what it's worth...I missed you."

You sigh, looking out the cracked store window. "Look, I'm sorry too. It was a tough choice, but I should've been honest with you." It's kinda gross to be trying to make amends here, what with one foot stepping in zombie excrement and all, but your head hangs low in apology anyway.

Your head snaps up when you hear him sniffle, and his eyes are struggling to hold back tears. When you open your arms, he's quick to wrap his arms around you and crumple into your embrace, voice muttering broken apologies. "I'm so sorry," he mumbles. "I missed you so much." You two stand there and let the moment drag out, let Jisung dampen your shirt for what feels like hours.

There might not be much hope left in the tumultuous reality you've found yourselves in, but as long as you're together, you think you stand a chance at weathering the storm.

"Shit," Jisung hisses that night, wiping blood off his arms with a damp cloth. He should've taped himself up before going on a supply run, but he'd been running out of tape; that was the reason he risked entering the infested store at all. The bite marks on either side of his forearm run red and raw, and Jisung fixes his gaze to the popcorn ceiling to avoid throwing up then and there.

A glance is all it takes for him to gag, and he washes the cloth off, red water spiraling into the sink. He caps the water bottle he used and takes a good look at himself in the mirror.

There's blood across the right side of his face. (He's not sure if it's his or not.) There are deep lines in his forehead from months of stress, dark circles underneath his eyes. He figures he should've gotten more sleep while he still could, remembers all the times you bugged him about going to bed early.

He never listened.

He never listens.

If you were with him, he wouldn't have gone in alone, wouldn't have gotten surrounded, wouldn't have gotten bit. Maybe he wouldn't have even gone in at all. Lord knows you've always been his impulse control.

That's it, then. I've got a day or so left then... He wraps the clean(ish) cloth around the bite and resists the urge to squeeze until he bleeds out on the bathroom floor. There's only one thing left to do.

You're in the middle of shaking the dust off the former tenants’ couch cushions when you notice Jisung emerge from the bathroom. "I did some digging around, and I think these'll fit you." He catches the clothes you toss him wordlessly. "You good?"

"I need you to do me a favor."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Kill me."

Okay. Well. You were expecting something more along the lines of "check if the truck is locked" or "kiss me."

"Wh-" The word gets lodged in your throat when he lifts his hand to show you the bite. His whole forearm's red at this point, blood trickling from it despite the sopping red cloth in his hand. He tries for a lighthearted grin.

(It doesn't work. Jisung's never been a good liar.)

"Please. I want to die on my own terms." To himself, he mutters, "You always deserved better, anyway. All I ever did was get angry and leave you behind." He's focused on the way the blood runs down his arm and fingers before falling down, down, down. The hardwood floor takes it like a champ, he thinks. 

It's really kinda funny how he can think things like that when he knows he has to die, and he has the audacity to laugh. Maybe he’s only laughing because he’s losing a lot of blood.

You cup his face with both hands, the couch cushion tossed to the side, and he hesitates before leaning in. "How- how do you get to decide what I deserve? Decide what I want?" your voice breaks, vision blurred from tears. "You're all I want." Your foreheads touch as you sob, tears mingling with Jisung's blood as they hit the floor. "This isn't fair! I just got you back and- and-" The cry that rips itself from your throat is guttural, a bubbling noise produced from the back of your throat. This time it's Jisung who lets you cry into him, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

"You're so fucking stupid! I hate you!" you scream, nails digging into his shoulders. You may as well be telling the world where you are, but your mind doesn't bother registering it. Before you know it, you're slipping, legs unable to keep you up. You're so tired. It's been a long, arduous few months. "I hate you so much!"

But you don't mean it. You never could.

You weep at his feet, clutching at his jeans in an effort to pull yourself up. "I hate you..."

Maybe it's the look on his face when you pull away to gulp down air like your life depends on it; broken, beaten. Maybe it's the crushing hopelessness that hits you; when Jisung's gone, so are you. Hellish as this world may be, Jisung's the only thing that makes you feel like your last moments might not be so bad. He's your home, your tiny shred of sunshine and hope.

When he tugs you back to eye level, you smash your lips onto his, hand on the back of his head. He responds immediately, mouth moving against yours, hand tugging at your waist (closer, closer, closer).

But then his brain catches up to his body. "Wait," he turns so you're leaving wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, "wait, this- this isn't right."  He steps back, eyes wide as he puts distance between you. "Now you're-"

"Infected." You think back to the news coverage of the disease. All it took was a drop of saliva for someone to be at risk. You wring your hands, tear your eyes from his forearm (his veins bulge as if they're fit to burst). "I guess I just realized, you know?" A nervous chuckle escapes your lips. "Who else...who else is gonna..." Your voice breaks again, eyes brimming with tears. "Who else is gonna put up with you in the afterlife?"

He's in front of you again in a heartbeat, wiping your tears. With a scoff, he says, "God, what would I do without you?"

You bandage him up properly after that, spend the night talking until you're asleep, head rested on his chest. It's comforting, he thinks. He wishes he could have held you like this back when your only concerns were your uptight Calculus professor and the stress of finals.

"Better late than never, I guess," he whispers, breaking the silence. Your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, your cheek smashed against his chest as you sleep. "Though I guess we might've been a little too late, huh?"

The sun rises, golden light in your face forcing you to blink your eyes awake. Jisung stirs at your movement, his good hand tightening around you as he tries to stay asleep.

"Wake up." You press a kiss to his knuckles. "We don't have much time."

His voice comes out deep and gravelly, speaking for the first time in a few hours. "I know. Just five more minutes like this, I promise. Five more minutes..." And he's asleep again, mouth open in a little "o." You curl into him, listening for his heartbeat; weak, but still there. He’s still alive and so are you.

You think five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

"Ready?" you ask. The pistol shakes in your hands; you might not be the best shot, but you can't afford to miss now. You try to will your nerves into complacency. (It doesn't work.)

"Wait!" he says, eyes wide. His veins are clearly visible along the infected arm, snaking up his shoulder and kissing his collarbone. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a stupid, million-watt grin. "I love you. Even, uh, even if I am pointing a gun at you." He waves the other pistol a bit to prove his point. "I just wanted you to know before we, you know. Blow each other's brains out."

"Hey." You catch his attention, match his smile for the last time. "I love you too. Just thought you should know before I blow your brains out." He laughs, and it's a real, genuine laugh blooming from his stomach; it’s a loud, hearty sound and makes your heart feel so full that you can't help but laugh with him, laugh at the fact that you're about to shoot the boy you love, laugh at everything that landed you here.

Then the laughter calms down. The wind itself holds its breath, refusing to let even a slight breeze slip through. "On three. Ready?" Jisung nods, starting the count.

"One."

(It's sad you two will never get to see the end of it all, or if there's an end to begin with. Who knows, maybe there are enough true leaders left in the world to make something out of nothing. You hope that this world learns to heal from its wounds, no matter what. But in the end, you guess it doesn't matter. The sun will rise and set regardless. 

“No matter how things change…”

“...some things stay the same.” With those words, you and Jisung taped up the cardboard box labeled “TIME CAPSULE” in black Sharpie. “Man, I hope future us doesn’t hate past us too much for this,” Jisung said, managing to find a space for the large box in his closet. “It’s gonna be a long four years.” Right below the time capsule label read “OPEN AFTER GRADUATING FROM COLLEGE.” 

You’d nodded, hiding the box from view by moving Jisung’s clothes in front of it. “There we go. Now we won’t be tempted to open it.” The rest of the day was spent getting ice cream way too close to dinner to be healthy and trying to find out what the other wrote in their letter to their future self.

You don’t know why you’re remembering the makeshift time capsule you two spent half a day filling, but knowing that you’ll never get to open it makes your toes curl with an unpleasant sadness.)

"Two."

(In a way, you think you're almost grateful for what happened. Despite how twisted and fucked up it all was, you doubt you and Jisung would have ever found each other, truly found each other, without it. In your final moments, you think back to a conversation you had with him the week of the announcement.

"You know what I realized?" he had asked, making himself comfortable on your bed.

"What?"

"Parallel lines stay so close to each other, but they never meet. That's so sad."

"Jisung, are you crying over lines?"

"You know what else I realized?" he asked again, wiping tears from his eyes. "All the other pairs of lines meet once and then drift apart forever."

You ended up comforting him, leaving your homework behind. "Promise me we'll be like parallel lines. Promise me we won't start drifting." His eyes were shiny with tears as he held his pinky out to you, your pinkies interlaced in eternal promise.

Staring down the barrel of the pistol in Jisung's hands, you start to think that this is the part where you start drifting.)

"Three!"

[lee-vc]

Balance AU: Impulsive

It’s been a year since Link and Gadni arrived in South Gerudo Town from the Western Wastelands…

At first, things had been tough. Although Link had been dressed in nothing but rags when they arrived, Gadni had been clad in fine armor and jewels, all of which he managed to pawn off for a high price at the marketplace. It was enough to get them a small home on the outer circles of town with enough left over to stock up on some food and supplies. Unfortunately, since then their finances have been...struggling. Gadni took small jobs where he could but they didn’t pay that much. He had thought about taking up bounties from the village request board but he was met with 2 obstacles.

The first being that, since he was young and didn’t have the money to get good equipment, no one wished to hire him to even take out the weakest of monsters.

The 2nd being that the people considered him and Link “outsiders.” Yes, Gadni was clearly Gerudo and Link was but a child, but they were still unknown to the people of South Gerudo Town. No one had heard of Gerudo orphans being stolen in the night by raiders and they certainly never heard of the “Fon” family before. They were never outright rude toward the boys but still, that label made it difficult for him to even get an apprenticeship with anyone.

Still, he had to admit that, for now at least, taking bounties to fight monsters might be a bad idea. Without proper gear there was a very real possibility of him dying on out in the desert if he ever came across something he wasn’t prepared for like a Electric Lizafos or worse, a Molduga. Then Link would be left with no one to care for him...

So he stuck with his series of small jobs while trying to come up with a better way to make money. As for Link, well..he seemed fine enough. Or least Gadni made sure he was. He never let on to him whenever they were having money troubles. Gadni made sure that Link had good clothes, was always clean and well fed, even if it meant that he had to skip out on a few meals with their money was tight. He was just a orphaned boy in a strange land, he had enough problems.

Though Gadni was starting to think that Link was catching on to things. He’d often find Link following him to his different jobs to keep him company and even help out with more menials tasks where he could. And, to be honest, Gadni was glad for it. Link made him smile with how upbeat and optimistic the boy could be. He was full of energy and was always trying to come up with stupid jokes in effort to make Gadni laugh. It lifted his spirits. The same couldn’t be said about Link’s...impulsive nature though…

He couldn’t understand how a boy THAT SMALL could get into so much trouble! He couldn’t tell if the boy was incredibly brave or incredibly stupid with some of the stunts he’s pulled! Like the time he ate an entire SPOONFUL of Goron spice on a dare and spent the next half hour drinking water to try and douse the fire in his mouth. Or the time Link accidentally angered a horde of cuccos by stepping on one of them, resulting in both he AND Gadni running for their lives when Link tried hiding behind the larger man. And Gadni couldn’t BEGIN to count the amount of times Link had come home with a fresh bruise or scrape from the fights he would pick with some of the older kids whenever they’d tease him for being “Pig Skinned.”

As much as Gadni cared for the boy, he also drove him crazy with his antics. Which is why he relished every quiet moment he could get.

“Long day…?” A female voice asked him.

Gadni looked up and saw a Gerudo women looking down at him, smirking and holding a bottle of Hydromelon juice and two cups in hand. He let out a long sigh and took the cup she offered, watching as she poured them each a cupful before sitting beside him.

“No...just thinking…”

“You sure you’re not just constipated…?”

“Ha ha, very funny, Vanya…”

Vanya was one of Gadni and Link’s neighbors. She lived with her elderly father was one of the first people to actually welcome the boys to the town. She was laid back and a bit of a smart ass but instantly warmed up to the boys after Link blurted out that she was “really pretty and hey are you looking for a boyfriend? My Gadni is GREAT!” He swore that boy had a broken filter as well…

Vanya had been one of their only friends in the town. She’d lend them money and never ask for it back, would bring by food and drinks (A LOT of drinks).She even gave them matching belt buckles and a small amber amulet for Link that she made herself. Which Link refused to take off, even when he slept...which Gadni found really cute to be honest..

“Heheh...Well, fix your face then! You look like you just smelled the wrong end of a Molduga…” She joked before taking a sip of her juice. But she soon grimaced at the taste then wrapped her free hand around the bottle. “Ugh...it went WARM...just great…” She complained before pouring her drink out on the sandstone.

An easy fix for Gadni. He simply took the bottle in his hand and a small blue-ish glow surrounded both. “Here...should be better now…” He poured them both a new drink and his friend, after having a taste, was pleasantly surprised to find the drink now perfectly chilled and tasting much better now.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you could do magic! Hahah...you know, I keep telling you, you could make good money off of that…”

“I already told you, no…”

“Ugh...come on! You know how RARE it is to have Magic-users in these parts of Hyrule? Plus, if you showed it off a little more, you could get more work in killing monster...even WITHOUT a blade...”

“NO, Vanya...I don’t want to use my magic like that…” That would make him too noticeable to certain people..

But, knowing his stubborn friend, she wasn’t gonna let this go. They’ve had this conversation countless times before and even had fights about it. He honestly couldn’t understand WHY she was so invested in what he did with his life and his skills. It wasn’t like him choosing not to use his magic to fight was hurting her in any way. Part of him knew that she was just worried about him and Link...and he appreciated it...but that was also part of the problem.

He KNEW he could easily wipe out an entire horde of monsters using just his magic alone. Hell, he could even destroy a Molduga with his magic. But using that great of a power would cause people to talk...and rumors spread far and fast...that was the last thing he needed right now…

Vanya huffed, crossing her arms in frustration and twiddling with her earring...then a thought popped into her head…

“Okay look...I don’t understand why you don’t want to fight monsters using your magic, even though it’d get you ALOT of rupees that way...but if you insist on being PASSIVE about it...why not open a jewelry shop then?”

That was new….jewelry?

“...why jewelry?”

Vanya smirked. “Think about it...more and more monsters have been popping up lately in the desert which mean people will want more protection. You can use your magic to make Enchanted jewelry for people and open your own shop! We don’t have a jewelry shop here in South Gerudo town yet! I can design them for you, you enchant them with magic and boom! You have a steady income!”

Gadni downed his entire drink before pouring himself another. That actually wasn’t a bad idea...it would take a lot of work but...maybe it could work--

“GAAADNI!!!”

They both nearly dropped their drinks as Link suddenly tackled himself into Gadni’s arms. Link looked scuffed up and had a newly forming bruise on his left cheek. A group of distance laughter answered the question of what happened without him even having to ask.

The Zaburo Siblings. They were a group of young pre-teen Gerudos who were, for lack of a better word, quite bratty. Their families were quite wealthy and they seemed to enjoy tormenting the other children. Link most likely got into another fight with them while defending another child from their antics.

Sighing, Gadni lifted Link’s chin so he could examine the damage. His cheeks were red with anger and his eyes glimmering with the threat of tears. Something that was rare for the boy. He never cried after a fight, what he really hurt?!

“Link what happened? Tell me.”

“They started it!! They were teasing Naboni about his freckles and I told them to stop but then they pushed me and started calling me names and then Hakan punched me and then his sister broke the amber pendant that Vanya made for me!”

“What?!” Vanya slammed her drink down. Now he understood why Link was so upset. A quick glance down at his young wards necklace, he finally noticed that the amber piece was indeed missing. A not too far from them, the 3 brats were standing across the street, giggling and snickering at the near-to-tears boys. Now, Gadni was far above such immaturity but he so wanted to take those children over his knee one of these days and wipe those arrogant smirks off their faces. But no. He was an adult so he had to settle this calmly and maturely--

“Well you should go right over there and defend your Honor Link!” And then Vanya proceed to do the opposite. Link wiped away the few tears that did fall from his face, looking up at the woman. “M-My honor…?”

“Yes! First they insult your name then they steal from you! You need to stand up to them and show them that you will not take such insults lightly! You’re going to grow up to be a brave warrior someday, right?”

Gadni had no chance to speak up before Link rushed from his arms and stood before Vanya, a growing smile on his face. “Y-Yeah! I’m gonna go up to be as big and strong as Gani one day!”

“That’s right you are!” Vanya continued, placing her well manicured hands on Link’s shoulders. “And when a warrior is dishonored, what do they do!?”

“They FIGHT for it!”

“Are you a strong voe?”

“Yeah…!”

“Are you a gonna be a strong warrior?!”

“YEAH…!”

“Then fight like one and go get your honor back! Let those kids they can’t push you around like that!!”

“YEAH!! Oh...I’ve got just the thing..!! Be right back!!”

As Link rushed into their doorway of their home, Gadni stood up to call after him but was stopped by Vanya holding onto his wrist. “Why do you encourage him like that? You know, I’m starting to think YOU’RE half the reason why he’s always getting into fights!”

“Gadni, he’s almost gonna be a teenager soon..you can’t coddle him forever, he had to be able to learn how to fight for himself!”

The larger man plopped back onto the bench, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “That’s not the point--”

A rush of blond hair zoomed past them, hiding something within the confines of his top. The bratty trio watched as Link stood before them, a look of determination on his face.

“Oh look, little Pig Skin is back for more…”

“You gonna cry again little Voe? Hehehe..”

“I...I’m here to defend my honor!! Y-You’ve insulted me so now I’m gonna defend myself like a WARRIOR!”

The older boy laughed as he leaned toward his younger sister. “Listen to him...little Piggy thinks he’s a warrior...what you got little Piggy? A stick..? Hehahaha!”

“No! I-I’ve got a--ah...I’ve got..!! Agh, come on, what are you caught on!?”

Gadni and Vanya watched as Link dropped to his knees, fiddling with something in his hands. Gadni couldn’t see what he was having trouble with though since Link had his back to them...but he had a sneaking suspicion it was something Link wasn’t supposed to have…

That night, Gadni had a long and detailed conversation with Link why he needed to reign in his impulsive…

And that he couldn’t just pull KNIVES on CHILDREN!!

_____________________________________________________________

I will DEFINITELY be doing more in the future, this was a lot of fun!! I hope you guys enjoy it! This was originally a scene I had in mind when this was gonna be an AU of the @linkeduniverse AU but after it become my own AU, I still really wanted to do it! LOL

[borderlandscast]

sorry!! I was the one who sent the anon about the development, and yeah, I meant how their character changed as the story went on. but also, what were some things that changed from the initial starting point in the story?

okay, not a problem! let’s do this. my random three picks: zoeya, lalna, and parvis. i’ll think about maybe doing posts for the others but shoves that onto future self. thank you for clarifyingthis ask! it was a pleasure to answer, and apologies for how long this got.

zoeya

her role is basically a xenobiologist traveling to pandora to research fauna and flora. unfortunately, her assistants continued to ditch her given the dangerous nature of the work.

working solo, zoeya continued after many setbacks and was close to giving up after rythian left (for different reasons than what she’d assume though). and then teep showed up.

zoeya’s bubbly, sunny and talkative personality unnerves a lot of people since you’d think all that would be ground out of her at the end of the first day but nope. zoeya’s greatest strength is in her persistence. she never needed coddling, which almost everyone made the mistake of doing since they also assume she’s naive. she proves them wrong later since death (and to a lesser extent, suffering and pain) is a part of life, which is showcased often in her field.

that said, her greatest weakness is her self doubt and insecurities, whether it’s about herself, her job or her relationships. she has a lot of unspoken anxieties on a daily basis, which hinders her ability to function. she shows signs of adhd too; this is especially evident in the scene where teep shows up and her life is a big Mess, from the way she organises her paperwork, her constant clutter and chaotic workflow.

she has a positive impact on teep and vice versa. for the longest time, she couldn’t open up, and now she has this extraordinary assistant who can actually read her handwriting, is not a wimp about foreign bodily fluids, can handle threats without a blinking an eye, can follow instructions after being told only once; yeah, teep’s her dream assistant. problem: they’re stone cold and unreceptive to her ramblings...or so it appears.

zoeya brings the best out in people; she has a grounding effect. whenever i wrote her into a scene, i had to take a different mindset than say, one i’d have for rythian, rythian is cautious, and usually doesn’t do anything without a plan. zoeya, on the other hand, is free of these restrictions. she’s a very emotional person, which plays off nicely against a bigger backdrop of stoic, reserved and colder cast.

she was never intended as a ‘oh, i’m here for you, always!’ sidelines character which is a cliche role; she takes direct actions throughout borderlandscast, such as being the first outsider to see rythian’s mutilated back. she reacts with a little bit of horror, but ultimately reaches out with a compassionate hand. she also ran inside a burning building to get teep. she also is a frontliner in the bandit battle, at the cost of her hand.

losing her hand wasn’t intended until i browsed the old blackrock vids and hit upon the arc where rythian and co end up in the desert and she needs chocolate milk to survive, and uh, things clicked.

zoeya suffers a permanent consequence for her heroic actions in saving sanctuary hole. does she regret it? no! she does her best to move on, with the support of her loved ones. she may have been an anxious wreck throughout the whole event but she never let it stop her from doing the right thing.

lalna

lalna’s role was mysterious from the start to his companions; his concussion impeded his thoughts and rationality. slowly peeling back the real reasons how he ended up on pandora was part of the story.

he was always going to be rythian’s companion, and unfortunately, was going to betray him later. playing up to that was difficult, since i was starting from scratch in an au compared to blackrock where tensions preexisted.

lalna and rythian are both lonely people, and lonely people tend to gravitate towards each other even if their personalities are at odds. i didn’t detail lalna and rythian’s initial journey together but you can tell that they’ve gotten used to each other by the time nanosounds shows up.

i intentionally wrote lalna to be a scaredy cat but differently to nilesy, parvis and zoeya. normal people don’t cope well with being thrown onto a murderous, lawless place, let alone being stranded. lalna handles it reasonably well at first but then there’s the icing on the cake: killing other people.

thus begins lalna’s spiral into the sad mess that he becomes just before tlvh c12 happens. that ended all civilities between him and the main vault hunters.

negative character development where someone truly regrets their actions should be explored more often! lalna didn’t exactly redeem himself in the final battle but he definitely showed that he’s taking his first steps.

sometimes people try to justify doing terrible things because that’s a very human thing to do. lalnable’s own rigid moral compass was foil to lalna’s own weak, wavering one. it also provided another reason for the conflict where lalna nearly throttles him to death but chooses not to, since that’d violate his whole motive for backstabbing rythian.

lalna is driven by selfishness disguised as protective love for his twin. he’s one of the more selfish people in this au.

his loneliness likely drove him to build larry robert, a friend who’d never abandon him.

i don’t think lalna is an idiot; he’s secretly crafty and actually quick thinking, especially when it comes to his specialties. he’s impulsive though, and he doesn’t like to think about the consequences until the dust clears. this gets better closer to the end since he chooses to go back and help the vault hunters, after he provokes arsenal into beating the shit out of him. that uh, takes some serious guts.

he’ll heal his relationship with rythian eventually. where rythian would once have cut ties with lalna, rythian’s open to trying again, something that lalna is deeply grateful for.

parvis

parvis is interesting as a character since he’s so multi-faceted while still being recognisable as himself. i wrote him to be a bandit, but not a bandit, as paradoxical as that sounds.

he was designed to have every bit of confidence as possible or projecting as much; backstage, he dials back on the loudness and is a little awkward but cares deeply with all the finesse of a brick in a sock. he rivals ravs in terms of social awareness, which is how he easily picked up on will’s need for a friend.

his sewing hobby was added much later, it provides him a valuable skill since bandits probably tear up their own clothes often. plus, plenty of civilians and vault hunters could do with repairs every once in a while. being one of the friendlier bandits around, parvis has a secret reputation as a tailor. he only tries a little to deny it.

parvis intensely dislikes conflict but pretends he does, if only to keep the masses happy (his own lieutenants are bloodthirstier than he is, a rarity on pandora). okay, he might enjoy it a little but the consequences of getting hurt far outweigh the adrenaline rushes. he gets over this ridiculously fast when he’s out for blood in the name of a friend (as in the case of one will strife during the jailbreak), or if something he likes is threatened (like his precious stronghold).

as sparkles pointed out, parvis’ leadership capabilities and knack for keeping a whole bandit gang united under one flag (with a love of music, of all things) is pretty much peerless. parvis has a goddamned gift. it’s why he’s so well-liked by each of his ‘fans’, and why he’s so popular on the echonet. he gets to know all of them equally, and rarely plays favourites. he doesn’t let the attention go to his head, much.

the illliteracy part is common amongst bandits but reading sheet music doesn’t take much; parvis is very insecure and touchy about his inability to read and write, but lalnable helps him with that. he also helps parvis get over his fear of blood and pain in the most direct way possible. it’s voluntary on parvis’ part since parvis rocks up to the clinic on a daily basis since hanging out with lalnable is greater than getting nausea over drawing blood.

parvis really steps up to the plate in ‘the battle of sanctuary hole’. he has major self doubts abouts his ability to succeed in battles despite the bloody bandits’ amazing track record of occupying the dam stronghold against multiple attacks. his big, gay ‘crush’ on daltos may have factored into his decision to pick up his gun and finally jump into the fray.

the ‘crush’ part is parvis working through a complex series of feelings. as sparkles noted, parvis develops and abandons crushes very quickly (about as fast as he loses guitar picks; his one on ravs is one of his longer standing ones). it stems from wanting to get to know people; being famous fucks a lot with parvis’ ability to make genuine friends. he goes back and forth on relationships when his doubts surface.

parvis is aromantic and asexual but is grey on both counts. he doesn’t know what both orientations are called, and unless he has a ‘i like people but not in that way’ session with daltos (aro, bi), teep (aro, ace) or hybridpanda (aro, ace), he’s not in a big rush to find out.

he just wants to be friends with everybody, except for when he or they’re crossed; parvis has a big vindicative streak to him that’s a big bandit trait. fortunately, parvis is as revenge driven as panda or sjin is.

some things that changed as the story went on (off the top of my head):

length of the story and word count; did not anticipate on it spanning across six plus side stories and a main one, or over three years.

arsenal’s role in ‘the battle of sanctuary hole’; he fucked up almost as badly as daltos did, which accelerated the blitzkreig blighter’s quest for destruction and revenge. whoops. but he fixed that by diving in to save his bestue, and failed at that. nobody’s perfect! except boner.

minty! minty wasn’t envisioned until i needed someone to run concordia. martyn and turps weren’t available since they’re both land locked, but then along came minty.

elsa being a major catalyst for the complete destruction of pandora and the universe. it was a joke, but then it happened.

rythian’s relationship with the queen; he nurtured a close bond with her, which she broke when she tried to escape her vault once she got too jealous of freedom. if things had turned out differently, they could have been friends and the universe would have doomed another way.

nanosounds losing her left arm; i think i talked about this in a post a long, long time ago but the consequences of a siren losing her tattooed arm? hasn’t been seen yet, wanted to explore it.

the legendary that was dropped in the vault of the queen; its name is ‘enderbane’, and is currently in rythian’s possession after honeydew gave it to him, thus breaking the curse of ‘no vault hunter shall own a legendary’. he has no idea what it does since he hasn’t tested it out yet, and is a little afraid to do so considering it’s an eridian weapon. didn’t plan on including it as a drop but usually loot is good on a final boss, so there.

ANNOUNCEMENT OF BORDERLANDS 3!!!!!!! since borderlandscast is almost wrapped up, nothing will change content wise but since there’s a giant time gap that exists, we’ll see how i fit the epilogue in since that’s a big playground.

[nottooldforthisship]

*CHEF fics*

- Learning to Eat by @mbpgku : Celebrity chef Louis Tomlinson has a problem. He’s opening his first restaurant in 9 weeks, and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s ‘standoffish’ and ‘rude’ and ‘quick to temper’. Whatever. He ends up saddled with an annoying, happy-go lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. His tv presenter and pop star best friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting Julia Child?! Kitchen AU where Harry helps Louis re-learn how to eat.  (METAPHORICALLY) (38k, M)

- Every Good Boy Deserves Cookies , by @stunning-stylinson​ : “Y-yeah?” Louis asks breathlessly, “And then?“Harry giggles and moves his bum back to meet Louis. “Add the vanilla and crack the eggs, beating it all in with salt,” Harry says.Or where Harry is a chef who teaches a class and Louis swears it’s only Harry’s bossiness that turns him on, not the recipe for cookies and Harry likes being praised. (8.5k, E)

- Feels Like Coming Home , by @phd-mama: The last thing Harry Styles expects when he’s hanging out at the Someday Cafe in Somerville one rainy October day is for his ex, Louis Tomlinson to walk through the door, but that’s exactly what happens. After a spectacularly ugly break-up three years prior, Harry hasn’t heard one word from Louis, and he’s moved on. Gotten over him. But having Louis back in his life, not to mention working at the restaurant where he’s a chef, isn’t easy, and the feelings that Harry thought he’d left turn out to be not so easily forgotten. This is a story about love and the power of forgiveness, and how the hard choices we make define us, and change our lives. (60k, E)

- Before We Evaporate ,  by  crimsontheory  : Louis Tomlinson; executive chef and owner of his own five star restaurant, been voted one of the top chefs in London, and has won several awards for his work in the kitchen. He’s always dreamed of being on Chopped, but never believed it would actually happen. Until it does. Now that he’s officially made it onto the show, there’s one tall, curly haired distraction that might just ruin everything for him.Or the kinda sorta enemies to lovers Chopped AU with far more smut than necessary. (37k, E)  

- Fool's Gold , by @freetheankles : Or the Arnacoeur AU in which Harry is scheduled to be married to Liam in 10 days and Harry’s mother hires Louis and his team to break them up. (55k, E)

- Check Please      by  zedi   :      Louis has a shit date. Harry offers to cover the bill. They maybe fall in love. (2k, NR)

*BAKER fics*

- Relief next to me , by @haydolce : AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more. (333k, E)

- leave it to the breeze , by @hattalove :  or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people’s business. also featuring liam as louis’s best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur. (81k, E)

- shine by @lourrynavy​ ; Louis is an actor who needs to get away from the real world. He does the only thing that he can and runs away, finding himself in a small town where he happens upon Harry. What Louis doesn’t expect is to somehow fall in love and end up having to face what he was running from all along. (40k, M)

- Tis the Season for…Love?   ,    by @afangirlfantasy:   Prompt: Harry seems to have it all: A successful career as a pastry chef, a Victorian home in London, and a dedicated boyfriend who he's been with for years.   One day he stops by his boyfriend's apartment to surprise him and finds out that he's not so dedicated to Harry after all. Shocked and too depressed to celebrate, he decides to skip Christmas and on a whim leaves on a plane to New York. In New York he meets Louis… Or...Louis might just be what Harry's needed all along. (27k, M)

-  Flour and Chocolate      by   teaandtumblr : Then he approached the display cabinet. And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN. What. The. Fuck? Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.  OR Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.(145k, M)

- Float Down Like Autumn Leaves (Stay Now) , by @getmesometacos  : The AU in which Louis has a 6 year old daughter with a costume emergency that puts her school’s annual Halloween party at risk, Halloween decorated cupcakes are hard to find and tall men look absolutely ridiculously cute in giant vegetables costumes. Co-starring Harry, who makes really good food for the kids. Featuring Niall, who works in a bakery but has a part time job as a babysitter. And as much as he doesn’t believe in love at first (or second) sight, Louis is really infatuated and really wouldn’t mind seeing Harry again.(16k, M)

- we’re still going, eight in the morning , by @nooelgallagher​  and @yoursongonmyheart​ : Harry washes his hands quickly before grabbing his phone. His screen lights up to 3 notifications.DJTommo is now following you!@DJTommo mentioned you in a tweet!Direct Message from @DJTommo!Harry yelps, throwing his phone to Niall who just barely catches it.Niall looks down at the phone, seeing first the tweet, then the DM. He tosses the phone back to Harry, who nearly drops it. “What are ya doing, mate! Answer him!”Harry thinks for a moment about what he wants to say. This is his chance to actually talk to Louis Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson messaged him directly. He can say anything he wants. He begins typing, his fingers shaky.Niall comes over to stand next to Harry and peers down, looking to see what he wrote. When he does, he lets out a groan….Or, the one where Harry owns a bakery, Louis is a radio DJ, and Niall and Liam roll their eyes at their incessant flirting. (31k, E)

- taste on my tongue , by @bethaboolou : Louis Tomlinson, second place winner on TXF four years ago, is looking to reinvent his career. Harry Styles is a baker who is desperate for a bakery of his own.Louis doesn’t bake. Or cook. Or know how to use an oven.Take Louis. Take Harry. Add in a heaping cup of sexual tension. Another cup of delicious (and not so delicious) food. A smidgen of competitive spirit. A dash of hopes and dreams. And you get Kitchen Wars, a TV show that promises to be the must-watch event of the fall. (77k, E)

- come away with me , by @suspendrs: Or, Louis has to pick up the pieces of his and his daughter’s life after his wife dies, and Harry is a beautiful stranger that just wants to help. (80k, NR)

- Whether Clouds or Clear Skies , by @onewasturning :   “You, young Harold, are a baker among curry houses and vintage clothing stores,” Louis says, and it forces a bark of surprised laughter out of Harry.  “I’m a— sorry, what?”  “Harry,” Louis says, “last night I had an experience bordering on profound.”  “You’re making it sound like you did something sexual with my muffin,” Harry says. Or, Louis gets into the habit of stealing baked goods while Harry’s busy keeping tabs on the weather. (25k, E)

- Every Story Ever Told , by @all-these-larrythings : Becoming a best-selling author isn’t as difficult as Louis would have guessed. It seems all you need these days is the perfect blend of alcohol induced philosophy, complete disregard for one’s dignity, a live blog about how fucked love is, and a bored publisher interested enough to offer him a deal. (54k, NR)

- Skin New, Hands True, My Hands All Over You , by PearlyDewdrops   : Harry designs wedding cakes, so of course meeting blissfully happy couples every day is part of his job description. Unfortunately, it’s caused Harry to perpetually hope each new day is the one he’ll find love, too. That is, until Harry realises everything he’s ever wanted is right under his nose in the shape of his best friend, Louis. But predictably, Harry only comes to this epiphany when Louis starts seeing someone else. And this is not a John Hughes movie as far as Harry is aware. Everyone else is pretty sure, though. Featuring a heavy dose of pining, copious amounts of alcohol, drunk dialing that results in a situation reminiscent of Rachel Green’s, a ginger cat that likes to interrupt intimate moments, and a Halloween party that changes everything. (44k, E)

* RESTAURANT OWNER fics*

- all the lights are full of colour, by @infinitelymint : So, fast-forwarding eight years from the day Harry met Louis, he is now a twenty-seven year old owner of one of the most up-and-coming eating establishments on the London restaurant scene, father of two wonderful boys and… separated from his husband. Now, that last part definitely was never a part of the original plan.  Or, Harry and Louis are separated, but for the sake of their two sons, they choose to spend Christmas together. It may just lead to a Christmas miracle. (26k, E)

- You'll Hear Me Calling for You , by  pinky_heaven19  : OR the one where Harry is an Alpha and Louis has a problem with it - until he doesn't. (42k, E)

- Let's Go Get Away , by @letsjustsee : Or, a fluffy AU in which Louis owns a restaurant that's next door to Harry's shop, and Louis is completely unaware how smitten he really is. (7k, NR)

* FOOD BLOGGING fics*

- 'Til I Tasted You  , by @icanhazzalou : Louis is Harry Styles' biggest fan. It doesn't matter that Harry is famous for being a food blogger and Louis can't cook to save his life.At least, until Harry offers to give Louis a cooking lesson. Then it matters just a teensy bit. (14k, E)

[strang-news]

Dear H.R.

How Should I Respond The Next Time My Coworker Asks To Borrow My Clothes?

My co-worker of about a year, “Jill,” frequently compliments my work outfits and inquires about the brand or where I got them. They are not designer, usually resale. At first, the comments were nice, but it’s become an overreach when she’s said things like, “I like it so much I want to rip it off you.” Our employer is having a big gala fundraiser and has been asking for volunteers to be at the event. The other day in passing, Jill said, “Oh, I want to borrow that blue lace dress you wore to XYZ event from a few months ago!” I was a little surprised and didn’t respond in the moment. I’m not going to be volunteering for the upcoming event. I would like your opinion on how to respond when she gets wind that I won’t be there because I have a strong sense that she’ll bring up the dress again.

[The Washington Post]

Karla L. Miller urges the letter to politely, directly tell Jill they don’t lend out their clothes and to see if Jill’s behavior escalates. “If that seems plausible, you might want to keep track of your conversations and bystanders who overhear them in case you need to establish a clear behavioral pattern for HR,” she writes. Read the rest of her answer.

How Should I Handle My Colleagues' Near-Daily Conversations About Soybeans?

I graduated in the middle of the pandemic and got my first real job working remotely, only recently getting to the office as people started getting vaccinated. It was the first time I had to interact with my co-workers face to face. Generally, it's pretty good, but I have two particular co-workers, "Todd" and "Evan," and I'm not sure how to deal with them. Todd believes some weird conspiracy about soybeans. Yeah, the plant. Apparently, they're part of some 3,000-year-old plan from China to take over the world through the power of phytoestrogens or some nonsense. It's crazy, but at least Todd has enough self-awareness to not bring it up unless someone shows interest. Unfortunately, Evan has quickly realized he can bait Todd pretty easily and asks about this almost every day. It drives me nuts overhearing them in the cube farm, but I'm not really sure if it's worth raising it with management and possibly getting one or both in trouble. Can you help me with some perspective?

[Slate] Elizabeth Spiers encourages the letter writer to buy noise-canceling headphones or earplugs. "I'm afraid there's not much you can do here, other than lobby Evan to stop baiting Todd because it's driving you nuts," she writes. Read the rest of her answer.

How Can I Tell My Employee Never To Deliver A Status Update In Song Ever Again?

I am a newly promoted manager and am stumped on how to handle something bizarre that happened in a meeting today, primarily because my sense of humor is getting in the way. I asked one of my employees to explain the progress he’s made in the assignment he’s been working on, and he said, “I would love to tell you…in song.” He proceeded to pull out a harmonica and “find his note,” before erupting into a musical ditty explaining everything in detail. It was so weird…that I did not know how to respond in the moment. Making it worse is that I find this hysterical, and I could not stop smirking the rest of the meeting. Whenever I think about the occurrence, I start to laugh again. However, that doesn’t mean I find it acceptable, and intend to have a serious discussion with him tomorrow. But I’m curious to know how you would address it, particularly since my potential laughter and smiling will not convey how unacceptable I find his behavior. I do not want this to seem like a suggestion. Am I immature in not being able to hide these emotions? Am I making too big a deal about the situation? I never thought I would have to deal with this as a manager.

[Ask A Manager]

Alison Green asks whether the employee’s behavior really requires a serious discussion. “I mean, obviously you don’t want all status updates being delivered in song, but unless it becomes a pattern, I’d just assume it was an amusing one-off from someone having a good time (which is not a terrible thing if it doesn’t impede people’s work) and leave it at that,” she writes. Read the rest of her answer.

Did I Deserve A Write-Up At Work For Informing My Coworker That Chocolate Milk Does Not Come From Brown Cows?

So about two weeks ago, me and another co-worker was talking about the topic of chocolate milk, and well… she’s one of the 10% of Americans that actually believe that chocolate milk comes from brown cows … I admit that I guffawed a bit, to which she took offense to, but I ended up apologizing BUT telling her that I thought she was a bit silly and told her that chocolate milk is actually just regular milk with chocolate syrup. To which, she got defensive and said that she didn’t believe me. So I asked her if I can show her proof that she was wrong and she dared me to do so; so I bought regular milk and chocolate syrup from a nearby store during my lunch, mix it up, and give it to her to drink. She ended up drinking it, and just left in a huff, and apparently just told our shift manager that she was leaving for the day because “she felt attacked by me,” and demands she needed a mental day. To which the shift manager didn’t approve of, but she left anyways, so whatever. But apparently, this whole thing got everyone else attention (because my co-worker made such a big scene about it) that it apparently attracted enough attention that my store manager had to personally call me to his office yesterday and tell me about what happened that day. I didn’t know at the time, but I really offended that poor co-worker of mine SO much that she told my store manager about how she couldn’t work with me anymore and that she even reported me to HR for “discriminating against her beliefs” and that I apparently caused enough mental damage that she couldn’t even go back to work due to how much I humiliated her… over chocolate milk. My store manager even wrote me up and warned me that the next time I acted in such an offensive manner like that, I would be fired. I mean, I’m already quitting and starting a new job anyways, but I worry about whether or not I’m actually the AH for this and if I should be more careful for my next job.

[Reddit via Twitter]

The commenters on the r/AmItheAsshole subreddit take the letter writer’s side. “Yeah it's a cow-ardly move, but some people just can't handle being wrong, even when they know what they've herd is bull,” one of them writes. “I'd try to steer clear in the future.” Read the rest of their answers.

[thelazyhermits]

A possible story prompt?

Lol Hey Haze XD Sorry for disappearing for a while but i’ve been looking for a few reverse harem fics fo Undertale when I got this idea for a story and I basically just wrote out everything that I’ve thought out so far and I wanted opinions on it. If it gets good enough of a response I might write it, or I’ll just put it out so someone else can write the idea. The basic premise i’m pretty sure someone else has written something similar, but this is my take on it so I wanted your opinion on it and what I can do to improve it, or what you think other people who might know how to improve it.

So here you go

An AU where its a Megaverse, where when all Monsters got out of the mountain, their AU versions came up with them. When Monsters came out on the surface, it was hard to ID everyone since they’re were alternative versions of themselves (Even of Frisk and Chara) and their different background, so to differentiate each other they added Middle Names to their ID’s which they choose. So the ‘common’ nicknames are just nicknames(Like Blueberry and Stretch, etc), but some characters will be referred by their official middle names (Cuz i thought nicknames like Crooks and Axe were kind of mean so yeah), so as to avoid insults.  

All the Sans’s and Papyrus’s are billionaires and are involved in a thing where the first to find and bond with their chosen mate becomes the Head of the Skeleton family. (Who proposes this? Maybe too much in house fighting resulted in this proposition to be made by US!Alphys and UT!Undyne betting that there was no way they could get someone to fall in love with them with the way they were acting???)

Rules to the Competition thing to be named:

They can’t tell their chosen Mate the stakes or about the competition (AKA head of family). They have to seduce and charm their chosen mate with their own wits and talents.

If they don’t know their status of wealth (As in what positions they are as head companies and real status of wealth), they are not allowed to tell them, their chosen mates have to figure it out themselves.

They Can’t marry and then divorce, they have to soul bond mutually and prove it by the bonds tying their souls. 

They can’t force someone to fall in love with them by magic or other methods.

They can’t sabotage one another’s attempts to woo someone (dolly so if they are pursuing the same person)

The first one to bond and Mate with their chosen prospectives, earns the right to be the Head of the household.

Enter MC, who is an author that is aquatinted with Muffet and Grilby (cuz she loves sweets), who somehow gets involved with the Skeletons by accident. Some fall in love at first sight, other just wanted to piss each other off, eventually became a fight not for the head, but for the hand of the MC, who is somewhat oblivious of it all.

MC- An author of somewhat renown, whose books touch people emotionally. Shy, sweet with a wicked sense of humor. Puns is something she loves but sometimes have a slow reaction to, but when she recognizes it, she’ll howl for days. When it comes to love, she’s like a classic shoujo protagonist, dense and airheaded. Some social cues go over her head, not all, but some especially in regards to flirting. She’s also incredibly stubborn on some opinions, but she knows when she’s wrong so she’ll apologize. Has no sense of direction and depends on her phone for directions. Love sweets and has no alcohol tolerance. Lives in an apartment in Monster Town. Was raised by her Grandmother when her parents passed away and still keeps in touch with her. She is aware that Monsters are rich from the Gold Exchange and assumes this of UT!Sans and UT!Papyrus when they first met (which was like 6 months after they got out of the Underground) but is unaware of how truly rich the two became when in those six months they became pros in their professions (she knows of what professions they are in, but are unaware of their positions and how famous they truly are since she stays in Monster town all the time and monsters don’t overreact when Sans and Co became filthy rich). Just considers them like all monsters. Is unaware that they have a huge ‘family’.

All monsters are rich from the Gold exchange when they got out of the mountain, but the Skeleton household are on another level.

UT Sans - Head of IT company, basically redone computers and phones in a revolutionary pace and almost became a billionaire by accident. He has a second job as Grilby’s comedian sometimes. Still loves Ketchup and puns and is still really lazy. Was acquitted with the MC before the Competition when he told a run and she took such a long time to react, but when she did she howled with laughter. This was just soon after they got out of the surface. Took an interest from then on.

UT Papyrus - A Master Chef who has numerous famous restaurant chains. Has several cookbooks published in human and monster food and has advanced cuisine in both technology and techniques. Was passionate in his job and somehow ended up with more money than he needed. Is an acquaintance of the MC and sometimes teaches her to cook. Is already infatuated with her when she was kind with him when they first got out of the surface when tensions were still high between the two races. 

US Sans - Head of several athletic companies, a successful business man who has a successful worldwide brand of athletica for monsters and humans. Is still very active and jogs often. Has not yet met the MC as of the beginning of the story but forms a crush when they first meet when she was kind to him for consoling him when he and Stretch got into a fight.

US Papyrus - Head of a successful game company. He had revolutionized a new game engine and is in progress of developing a fully functioning VR experience. Is still very laid back and still loves Honey. Is fond of the MC after helping him and his brother patch things up. Wasn’t really interested in the competition but eventually…

UF Sans - Head of an Automobile company. Revolutionized the Engine and made cars and bikes run smoother than ever. Has his own customized bike and treats it like its his baby. Was interested in the MC when his flirting sort of flew over her head, and when she accidentally flirted back unconsciously he got flustered. Was his goal originally to get the MC flustered but he got in too deep… In the Underground was lazy and was treated badly by Papyrus in public, but at home they were kind to one another and took down those facades. They have a strong bond.

UF Papyrus - Head of Fashion company. It was a surprise for everyone when he went into this but it started when somebody challenged his sense of fashion (given that his uniform had spikes) so he took on the challenge and designed suits and clothing that wowed the world and became an internationally famous designer almost overnight. Still very fit and trained for duties of the Royal Guard. He’s a very ruthless businessman and met the MC when she was dressed sloppily and couldn’t stand it and forced her to change her clothes to something more neat. Starts Tsundere, but as he slowly falls in love with the MC becomes more and more devoted to the MC and eventually is super devoted to the MC that when he tries to seduce her he bring the big guns (Flowers, clothes, fancy stuff) which sorts of confuses the MC because how did Tsundere become DereDere all of a sudden??? IN the Underground he had to act tough with everyone and his brother, but at night some days he would ask Sans to read to him his favorite story. They have a strong bond. He nags on his brother to be more active (though not as much as before given how successful they are) for his health.

SF Sans - Head of a famous hotel chain. HIs hotels are rated to be of the highest quality and hospitality and famous people are always eager to stay at his hotel chains. HIs hotels are also infamous for having Casino’s in them and people tend to gamble their money away which he keeps. Was unimpressed with the MC as he met her later on compared to the other, but is taken in by her kindness eventually. Like UF Papyrus, he was a total Tsundere when he met the MC, and originally pursued her because he wanted to steal her from everyone else to piss everyone off, but eventually became DereDere for her. He wants to spoil her (which the MC always refuses) and wants to be spoiled by her. He acts petulant when the MC doesn’t pay attention to him . Loves his brother but in his underground he had to act cruel to him in public, though at home they were affectionate and Papyrus would read him his favorite stories at night to issue each other.

SF Papyrus - Is a famous Auction holder and bidding master. He gathers infamous antiques that originally seem like they are worth nothing but are actually historical or monetary treasures. Earned his keep by accident. Also occasionally bids on stocks that he always gets right. He loves his brother and knows why his brother treated him badly in the underground but given their nightly readings, they hold very strong bonds. Though unfortunately as a side effect he has low self-esteem which he hides by acting confident and apathetic. Just went along with his brother’s plan to seduce the MC but fell in love pretty fast with the MC because she was super kind to him.

HT Sans and Papyrus - They both share an agriculture company and advocate for less food waste and contribute to lower starvation rates. They have been known to develop agriculture techniques and advance agriculture that it reduced food waste and compost. UT Papyrus and HT Papyrus have good relations given that UT Paps requests ingredients from him. They work together really often. Although UT Sans is somewhat wary of HT Sans because of what they went through, he is kind to HT Paps because he is still another version of his brother. When they got out to the surface, they had their injuries looked at, so HT Paps has braces and glasses, while HT Sans got his hole fixed. Though HT sans is slower than UT Sans, he is slowly regaining back his former magic prowess that he once had. Was introduced to the MC by UT Papyrus and are intrigued by her.

G!Sans - Head of an internationally famous Music Company. HE himself is a famous singer but he has so few released tracks that they are weighted in gold. Only a select few have heard him sing in person. He manages and creates top artists constantly. Has a large fanbase and still smokes and were leather. Met the MC when she visited Sans in his house (which she did not think would be a mansion) and is amused by the whole situation and thought to meddle because he thought it would be fun, accidentally got in too deep.

G!Papyrus - Head of an internationally known Pharmaceutical Company. Has advanced medicine by leaps and bounds and has cured several diseases. Has a love of tea and would like his ‘brother’ (He came from a version of echo tale that fused Gaster and Papyrus, so technically he is not brother with G but they got along together so well, they treat each other as brothers- this head cannon was from TheLazyHermit) to stop smoking. is an absolute gentlemen and due to his personality he is loved by many people and has his own large fanbase. Treats the MC kindly and is slowly developing feelings for her.

Other AU’s to be added??? I dunno?? Maybe, but given how many Skeles are here already adding more might be too much XD

What do you think of this so far? I have so many Undertale Prompts that I want to write but might never produce cuz the idea can get super longwinded… Maybe I’ll just post a bunnyplot pile and let people use the ideas…

I talked with Silver and got the ok to post this, so we could see if any of y’all had any ideas you wanted to contribute for this story plot. Also, if you wanna try writing this, be sure to give proper credit and let Silver know. ^-^

[careerbitespod]

Episode 8 Transcript: (DIGITAL ARTIST) Growing Into Your Career with Kenwood Huh

Rachael Barksdale: Welcome to Career Bites, where we make career exploration easy - and fun! My guest this week is Kenwood Huh, a technical artist at Infuse Medical, a digital production agency. Career-wise, Kenwood is a self-proclaimed generalist - and rightly so. He has experience as a concept artist, character artist - 2D, 3D, you name it he’s probably done it. But as talented and ambitious as he is, Kenwood is not a cutthroat kind of guy. His career journey is best described as organic - a term Kenwood uses to describe his artistic process as well. I think Kenwood’s story is a message of hope for those who feel lost, and for all those creatives looking to find their voice. Here’s Kenwood to share more about what he does.

Kenwood Huh: My job is to take the concept or the storyboard, and make it real. So, when I say make it real, I mean, this is going to be the end product. This is what you’re going to be seeing on the screen. Like for example, in the gaming industry, in the very beginning part of the pipeline you have the concept artists, or the storyboarders, or the writers. A concept artist is, like, a problem solver for the look and feel of the project, whose job is to make it as clear as possible for everyone else in the production pipeline. I mention problem solving as, like, a key phrase because I think a common misconception a lot of student have is that they just want to make things look pretty, but that’s not really the case. It’s like the concept artist’s job is to explore the possibilities that addresses the brief of the project, and ultimately creates a blueprint of the overall aesthetic of the project. A 3D artist will take that blueprint that the concept artist made, and they try to make the design come alive. And that ultimately becomes part of the end product, what you see on the screen. So this is basically what I do, mostly. In my experience I’ve been primarily a 3D artist.

Rachael: That sounds like the more fun part, to be honest.

Kenwood: Yes! Yeah, I think there’s a little bit less stress involved, I think, for 3D artists - in some ways. I think the concept artists, they have a bigger responsibility in some ways.

Rachael: Right, they set the tone for everything so they can’t mess it up.

Kenwood: Yeah, yeah, exactly.

Rachael: What are some of the software, or tools, or skills that you use to accomplish those tasks to bring the art to life?

Kenwood: A common software that we use is called Maya. Maya is a very...you can do a little bit of everything in Maya. It’s a tool where you can model as well as rig and animate. ZBrush is another software that I use. ZBrush is really useful for sculpting organic things, as well as actually hard surface kind of things as well. Those two are the main software that I would say I use on a day-to-day basis.

Rachael: What was that path like for you to become a 3D artist? I guess, kind of, walk us through a little bit about the thought process behind choosing this career path.

Kenwood: This actually happened very organically for me. I wasn’t, like, one of those kids that just grew up and just suddenly thought, “oh yeah, I want to work in animation or work in gaming”. I never thought that way. It just kind of happened through a series of decisions. So for example, I remember when I was, like, 10, my brother got a present from my dad - I think it was, like, a disposable camera. And he didn’t give me one, I don’t know why. But, anyways, I was kind of - I was a little bit envious of him. And I figured, you know what, I don’t have a camera, but I’m going to pretend that I have a camera. So I used to just, kind of, walk around with my hand and kind of pretend like I had this camera. And I would just look at things from, like, a different angle. So - I don’t know - I was probably, like, a crazy kid. Or somebody must have observed that and was like, “what are you doing?” But, I don’t know, I just thought everything had beauty. For some reason I was like, “oh, if I just lie down on the floor and look at this lamp it looks really cool. So I started to, kind of, form that habit of just observing things in general, and just seeing the beauty of everything. Eventually, I got myself a camera and I just started taking pictures of everything and anything. And I think that’s where it really started, where my passion for art really started. So I’m actually, kind of, grateful for that because it helped me to observe things - observe nature - before I just start create things. And I think that’s really important when you’re an artist. After doing that for years, I eventually had a little bit of a career as a photographer in a studio. So I just used to take photos of products and clothing, and things like that. Somewhere along the line I decided to just start drawing things as well. And because I had that background of just observing things and seeing things, it kind of helped me to naturally transition into the field that I am in today.

Rachael: Okay, listeners, so it’s at this point in the conversation that Kenwood and I start talking about his education and realize that the education section of his LinkedIn profile is very misleading. Hilarity ensued, but let’s skip all that and get to the good part. So let’s talk a little bit about some of these, like, education...detours. It seems like it’s a little bit of a windy path to get to that.

Kenwood: Yes.

Rachael: Do you want to just talk a little bit about how that was for you, and how you ultimately ended up with your animation degree?

Kenwood: When I first went into college, my parents were still somewhat hesitant about supporting my art passions, understandably. You know, a lot of people say, like, “you’re never going to get a job as an artist. You’re never going to make a living”. So they kind of wanted me to pursue something more in the science realm. So I ended up studying computer science at first. And I remember my first year, one of the first assignments that we had was to make a little Tetris game. I remember making it, but I also remember making it as pretty as possible. And I remember when the professors are, kind of, looking through all the assignments they were kind of surprised at what I had made because it was a little bit over the top. It was very pretty, very colorful, and I just tried to make it as cool as possible. I think someone mentioned something, that “hey, I think you’re more of an artist than a programmer”. And it resonated with me and I thought that was kind of true. So I decided “maybe - maybe computer science isn’t my thing, maybe I should do something else”. So that’s when I pursued fine arts. I studied fine arts for about two years. I applied for a somewhat prestigious art school. I believe they only picked - I think it was, like, 100 people a year, or something. But I attempted it. I gathered up, like, a portfolio. And at the time, the only real artistic thing that I knew how to do was photography. And I somehow got in. So that was a huge indicator to my parents, that, “ok, maybe this is the path that he should be taking”. And they supported me from that point onwards. Now, one thing that I didn’t really enjoy about being in the fine art field was that I thought it was...confusing. I feel like I might offend a lot of people by saying that about contemporary art. But I felt like whatever I made, it was very subjective. It - it just felt like it wasn’t my thing, for some reason. And I actually decided to drop out of college. Now I remember during my schooling, a - as a fine art student, I - I was very good at what I did. And the things that I tended to gravitate towards was - I used to make these interactive, kind of, installation art. For example I used to take old games - old RPG games or old Nintendo games - and I’ll, kind of, hack it and I’ll create an art piece out of it. And I really enjoyed seeing the audience’s reaction as they’re playing with these interactive toys that I had created. So I think there was something about that that I really enjoyed, something about  me telling some sort of story, or me giving this experience, and then the audience suddenly being enlightened by it. They’re kind of feeling this sense of wonderment by it. That has always, kind of, stuck with me. I think that feeling of giving something to the world, and then having someone experience that and be transformed, I think that’s, like, really cool for me. And after I dropped out of college, I actually thought “maybe I try to just pursue this full time. Maybe I’ll just start creating these little toys”. And that was crazy. I don’t even know why I thought that would work, but, like, at the time, I made a crazy decision to drop everything I had and - in my life in New Zealand - and fly over to America with about 200 dollars in my pocket, and I decided to just do something, to pursue my dream or something. It was very ambiguous at the time. 

Rachael: Oh my gosh - how old were you?

Kenwood: I think I was about 23. I think? 22 or 23.

Rachael: Oh my goodness, that was so brave. And so dumb!

Kenwood: It was really dumb! I had no money and I was like, “yeah, I’m going to live the American Dream with this little skill that I have now”. I think I spent another three, four years just being outside of college. Actually, like - ugh - a lot of unfortunate things happened during that time. We had some family-related issues. And it was really devastating, actually. So during that time I think I was very much lost in my direction, and I didn’t really know what I really wanted to do. After about three to four years of struggling like that, eventually there came a point where I had an opportunity to start living a normal life again. I had grown up a little bit, and I decided “let’s try this”. You know, I was playing with - before I left college, I remembered I was making those little toys that I made out of old video games. So I decided, “why don’t I try studying animation and game development?” So that’s what I did. I took a survey of animation class, which is basically, like, a filtering class. That’s where you get a little taste of what animation is like, but it’s also a class where they, kind of, filter people out. If you’re not good enough, you’re just not going to make it, you’re not going to get in. I remember taking that class and I was feeling quite overwhelmed, to be honest. Like I said, I never really had a dream to do that as a child. So I always felt like, when I was there, like everybody else was, kind of, ahead of me. And in a way, that was true because the first time I took that class, I actually didn’t get in. I thought “maybe - maybe this isn’t it”. But I didn’t really know what else to do, so I just tried it again next semester. And on - on the next semester, thankfully, I somehow was able to get in. After going through that program, I found out that there were some things that I was, kind of, naturally talented at. So I just kept pursuing those skills, and it’s paid off in the end.

Rachael: Well it - it looks like you won a college television emmy award?

Kenwood: Yes, that is true, yes. 

Rachael: Oh, oh cool! For what kind of project?

Kenwood: It was for a final capstone animation project. It’s a short film that we do as a group. There’s a little story about that actually. Before I had applied to UVU, BYU had originally offered me a talent scholarship. But they ended up rejecting me. It was just something stupid to do with - I think because I was, like, a transfer student or something, and I had too many credits. So BYU’s kind of known for receiving a college emmy award every year. And that was, like, the first year that UVU had won something, and BYU didn’t win that award. So…

Rachael: Oh my goodness…

Kenwood: So it was kind of like, “okay, you guys rejected me, and look what happened”. But by the end of the day, that told me that it wasn’t the school - it’s not the school that does it, you know? It’s - it’s the individuals and the group that really creates the product.

Rachael: Well that’s an excellent point - I think a lot of people would look at BYU’s track record with that award and say “oh, well, they have an amazing program”, but I think it’s more “they know how to pick talent and they can attract talent”. Just like they wanted you to be at their school, but because of their - their red tape, or their guidelines, or whatever, they couldn’t technically bring you on, so…

Kenwood: Yeah.

Rachael: Sucks to be them!

Kenwood: Yep!

Rachael: I don’t remember if we recorded this part, when you talked about some of the projects that you worked on, but give us just a little bit of a history of what different projects and companies you’ve worked for - because you’ve, kind of, run the gambit of different types of animation. And then, maybe do you have a favorite one that you’ve done or are currently doing?

Kenwood: So I started my career as an intern at a local VFX company. They owned 50 percent of this one original Stan Lee I.P. They wanted to make, like, a video game for it. I worked on that as a concept artist as well as a 3D modeler. And eventually that VFX company partnered with this other company, and it was, like, a start-up animation company. And eventually I was brought on to that as an art director. Something that’s bound to happen sometimes for a lot of artists going into this field, is that sometimes projects don’t always turn out the way you want it. It could be due to reasons like funding, or just poor management, or something. Unfortunately for me, I kind of started my career that way. And e- even though it was a great experience - I got to work with a lot of big names like John Rhys Davies and Larry King, they were voice actors for the animation that we were doing - that project, unfortunately, never came to fruition. But I am still proud of the work that we did because I thought it was really great, really ambitious, and the environments and the characters that we had made was really amazing. And ultimately that helped me to build a portfolio to have other jobs as well. So I went from that to eventually working for WB Games at Warner Brothers. I worked there as a character artist and we worked on Hogwarts Legacy, which is yet to be out. And I am still very proud of that project, even though it’s not completely out yet, but I am still very proud of what we’ve been able to make so far.

Rachael: Talk to us a little bit about what you’re currently doing and the role of a technical artist.

Kenwood: You could also say that I’m a bit of a generalist, meaning that I do a little bit of everything in the pipeline. So working in the medical industry, right now, I wear a lot of hats. But the thing that I love about that is that I get a little bit more sense of ownership. For example, when I was working for a bigger company, like WB, you really just have one role as a character artist. And even as a character artist, your contribution is still somewhat limited because there’s multiple character artists, and everybody has, like, a set role. So, it’s cool to be part of, like, a big project like that. You know, you’re doing something that’s bigger than yourself. But I guess currently where I’m at I get to make pretty much everything from start to finish. So what you see on the screen - you know, all the animation, and the modeling, and the texture, and the lighting - you get to do all of that. So I think it’s a really great job to, kind of, make sure that you don’t go rusty, and you have a little bit more say, I guess. 

Rachael: What would you say is probably the most difficult part about being an artist, and maybe the types of companies or projects that are the most demanding?

Kenwood: I think one of the biggest challenges comes down to communication, because, for example, as a concept artist you have to be very clear about your design, otherwise you have to keep going back and forth with the 3D artists. And I think it’s the same for the 3D artists and how we interpret a design as well. So sometimes that can be pretty challenging. And I think, also, another aspect that maybe people don’t touch on too much is making sure that you’re just not overdoing it. I think sometimes, as creatives, it is important to also do work that is outside of work to make sure that you’re keeping that passion alive. But sometimes, because it is in a work setting, you can let that stress ruin that passion if you’re not careful. So I think managing that stress is also pretty challenging.

Rachael: Right, you were saying 60, 70 hours work weeks when you were working at WB Games sometimes?

Kenwood: Yeah, right. When I was there, I went through several crunch times and, you know, you’re there pretty much all day until the job is done. These are the things that maybe a lot of students might not be aware of, but it does exist. Still, I wouldn’t let that ever be, like, an obstacle if that is your dream, you know? It’s still amazing to be part of something like that. And to me, working on the Harry Potter I.P. was a dream of mine. And that was a dream fulfilled, just being there, and I still enjoyed every moment of it. And I learned a lot from it too. 

Rachael: Speaking of things that you enjoy, you mentioned that it’s important for artists to work on their own projects and keep the passion for what they do alive outside of work, so talk a little bit about what goals you have for your own personal artwork.

Kenwood: Like I said earlier on, I like to let things happen somewhat organically. I don’t like to force things to happen. And my entire journey as an artist has been that way. Like, I never chose to be in this field. I kind of did, but in a way I didn’t. Like, there was a lot of influences that, kind of, led me to those decisions. So I kind of apply the same concept to my own projects, that I do kind of like to let it happen organically. And in a way it’s like a reflection of who I am. I don’t always like to talk about it too much just because - maybe I’m a little bit weird but I treat it as, like, a sacred thing. It’s almost like a journal for me. And I think maybe one day I will, like, publish whatever it is that I’m working on. But, personally, like, I just try to use that to drive me to become a better artist. 

Rachael: Okay, so for all of those young artists out there, what would be your one piece of advice for navigating the art world and just growing up in general?

Kenwood: What do you want to say? You know? What kind of legacy are you leaving? Like, is your art just pretty for the sake of being pretty, or is it saying more? I think everyone wants to say more. I feel like too many people just, kind of, go into this career thinking that you’ll have this title. It’s like, “oh, I’m a 3D artist” or “I’m a concept artist”. But I think that’s very shallow and it’s really meaningful in some ways. By the end of the day, I think, you study so hard, you work so hard to obtain those skills, and I think one of the most powerful things that you can do with those skills is to be yourself and express yourself. So I think that’s why I was saying that you’ve got to be careful of burnout, and that you should continue to keep that passion alive, because you went into this for a reason, and I think by the end of the day you want to tell a story. You want to say something. In turn, this can help people to be inspired. Or, you know, like when you watch a really good movie, or a really great story, it can transform you, you know? It can help you to have that sense of wonderment and it can help you to escape the craziness and the harshness of life. So I think art does a lot more than just entertain. It can also transform. So, you know, keep that in mind, I think, as you pursue this career. Keep in mind that you can do a lot more than just paint pretty pictures. 

Rachael: That was Kenwood Huh, technical artist. Kenwood’s latest big-name project, WB Games’ Hogwarts Legacy, isn’t scheduled to debut until 2022, but check out the trailer by visiting our show notes. Subscribe to and rate Career Bites on your favorite listening platform. Follow us on Instagram and Facebook @careerbitespod. Join us next Monday as we sample another career with an everyday professional.

[adri-mari-fabrica]

Challenge Four

A/N: HEY GUYS! This fic is probably really bad, but school happens, you feel. Thank you @haidenschreave​ @lizzy-matthews​ @winter-havilliard​, and @avalonbrooks​ for the RPs! Fic below the cut.

“Hey Lizzy,” I said, leaning against her doorframe. Per usual, the writer had left her door wide open. My fellow Selected was hunched over her desk, writing feverishly. So nothing’s new, I thought to myself, inwardly laughing. She wrapped up whatever she was writing and looked up at me expectantly. “Are you excited for the ball?” I asked her.

“Yeah definitely!” She grinned, “I’ve been wanting to attend a ball for a while. What about you?”

I had been expecting this question. Obviously she would deflect it back at me. Still, I felt myself struggling for the right words. “I guess I’m excited.” I thought about the crazy week ahead, “My maids keep asking what I want to wear and I honestly have no clue.” I said. In all honesty, my dress was probably the least of my problems.

Lizzy looked at me, unsure if I was serious. “I mean…” She started, doing her best to mask her incredulousness at my “problem”. “You could just let them decide on a style they think will look good on you. They’ve been designing clothes for you so long I’m sure they’d pick something great for you.”

I laughed at myself hopelessly, “I guess. I feel I’ll even do that wrong.”

Lizzy sighed, “When did I have to become the voice of motivation for everyone? You can’t get a color wrong. Anything will be fine. Just follow your instincts of what color you want, and everything will be fine.”

“The color was never really the issue. I’m just stressed in general.” Why am I even here? The only person who can help you is yourself, stupid. I told myself.

“Stressed about what?” Lizzy asked carefully. “Meeting the past Selected? Being in the Elite?”

I thought about the root of the growing anxiety in my chest. “The fact that there’s only ten of us left, I think. I feel like everyone’s just waiting for me to slip up.”

“Why would you slip up? How would you slip up?”

“I don’t know,” I said, attempting to clarify, “I could say something stupid in front of the previous Elite. Do something stupid at the ball.” The list is endless.

Lizzy took a deep breath. “The only people at the ball are the past Selected and the people who have been here in the palace for a while, who already know you. We already know how you are, and nothing stupid you say will change our opinions of you. And the previous Elite know how stressful this whole thing is, so they know if you seem too nervous or silly, it's probably because of the selection, and not a negative reflection on you. Listen to me carefully: You. Will. Be. Fine.”

Just drop it, Adri.

“You’re right, of course.” I shook my head, embarrassed, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s fine. It’s just the nerves talking, and you just have to ignore it and keep your head held high,” She sympathized.

“Thanks Lizzy.” I decided to change the subject. “So what are you wearing?”

“Oh ummm,” She paused to think. “There’s a black dress my maids made a while ago that I’m going to wear.” As if struck with inspiration, Lizzy resumed writing with more motivation than before. I took that as a queue to leave.

“Pick a color,” I instructed Erin, my maid.

“For what Miss?”

“Just pick.”

“Oh… uh…” she said, flustered, “Green.”

“Perfect,” I told her, “That’s the color I want my gown. I trust you can take care of picking the style?”

“Yes, Miss” Erin answered confidently.

“Good,” I said, reassured. One less thing to worry about.  Now I have to hunt down Haiden. That should be fun.

“Hey Haiden. Excited for the ball?” I asked him. Wow Adri, real original. I scolded myself.

“Um, yeah. I guess so.” He responded, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Are balls a regular occasion here?”

“Unfortunately, yes. And I’m always terribly awkward about it.”

“Do you like dancing?” I asked.

“Depends on the dance.”

“Which do you prefer?” I prompted. Typical Haiden. Sure, just leave it up to me to keep asking questions to keep the conversation going.

Adriana get ahold of yourself. I scolded.

“Ones where I don’t make a fool of myself,” he admitted.

“Wow relatable.” I said, sharing a smile.

“I am a relatable person.” He said. “But hopefully my parents didn’t invest in six years of ballroom dancing lessons for nothing.”

“I would hope not.” Watch me make a fool of myself in front of myself with my dancing. “I’m a little concerned about my own dancing, but I should be alright.

“Don’t worry, I won’t laugh.” He assured me.

“I’m not worried about you,” Haiden would be the least of my concerns. “I’m more worried of making a fool of myself in front of everyone.”

“You're not a fool. No one will think that.” He attempted to console me.

“At this point, anyone’s willing to make fun of the Four. But thanks.”

“Hey, don’t let it get to you.” He instructed.

“I’ll try,” I promised half-heartedly.

“That’s really all you can do.” He said knowingly.

“Come here often?” Haiden asked flirtatiously. I wasn’t sure how the conversation had turned into pick-up lines, but I was loving it.

I rolled my eyes at his silliness. “I’ve kind of been living here for the past few months, of course I come here often.”

“Well, surely you can't give me a better pickup line.” He taunted.

“I bet I can!” I replied indignantly.

“Oh, I doubt that.” He said smugly.

“Are you a camera?” I asked sweetly. “Cause every time I look at you I smile.” I grinned at him.

“If I had to rate you from 1-10,” he began, “I would rate you as a 9 because I am the one that you are missing.”

I giggled at his pick-up line. I had to admit, it was good. Wait. Am I actually… enjoying myself? That’s new.

“Do you have a name? Or can I call you mine?” I asked him.

“Are you religious? Because you're the answer to all my prayers.”

“What do your flaws and Illeas' history books have in common? I can't find a single one.” I said. I thought that one might earn a reaction, but Haiden kept plowing through.

“If it’s true that we are what we eat, then I could be you by morning.” Haiden grinned at me devilishly.

“Oh my god Haiden.” Well that took a turn.

“Do you like bacon?” he asked, “Wanna strip?”

I felt my face turn red.

“Roses are red, Violets are blue, Even if you were a Seven, I'd still want you.” I was proud of my impromptu poem.

“Ouch.” he said, “What about an Eight?”

“Sorry, that wouldn’t flow the same,” I said, “Don’t worry, I’d still want you.” I said, grinning.

“Oh, I’m so flattered.” he said dryly.

“Is that sarcasm?” “Possibly.” he answered indifferently.

“I’m afraid they forgot to teach you manners here at the palace.”

“They must have forgotten to teach you good pick-up lines” He responded smartly.

I returned to my room feeling happier than I had in a while. Our conversation had continued with more teasing and pick-up-lines. Does this mean… that I actually have a shot? It had been quite some time since Haiden and I had spent time like that together. I had, for some reason, assumed it was a fluke that I was in the Elite. But maybe… just maybe… I have a reason to be here. He hasn’t eliminated me yet, right?

The ballroom was at it's most elegant that I had seen it yet. Tables filled with refreshments and delicacies lined the eastern wall. All around the ballroom, everyone was either chatting or dancing. I spotted Princess Winter standing by herself on the other side of the room. I should probably be social.

“Princess Winter.” I curtsied. “What an honor to meet you at last. I’m Adriana.”

“Hey Adriana,” she smiled warmly, “Trust me, it's not an honor. I’m but a lowly soul.”

One of the most influential women in all of Illea was telling me she was a “lowly soul”. Go figure.

“I think most of Illea would disagree with that statement, considering you're a One and all.” Wait I didn’t mean it like tha-

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, “True, but caste doesn’t determine character.”

There I go being stupid.

“You don't know how much I agree with that statement, but I would argue that you're anything but a lowly soul.” Please don’t be mad.

“Maybe so,” she conceded, “I have a family, a job, and money. My soul is pretty happy.”

“I can only wish for that to be me one day... With Haiden or otherwise” I confided.

She smiled, “How are things with him?”

I don’t know. How are things?

“It's so hard to tell. He seems so guarded one moment and,” I chuckled, “flirtatious the next. I honestly don't know what to think.”

“Little bits of him come out at a time. He may feel more comfortable with you at certain times. He's nervous about all of this too.” Winter assured me.

“I’m sure,” I told her, “I can’t even imagine what it’s like in his place.”

“Sadly, I can never truly explain his feelings. I've only ever been on your side of things.” she said apologetically.

“Yeah. It's so weird how there are perspectives none of us will never know”

“And I can't even say I totally understand your feelings.” she laughed, reminiscing, “Heck, I hardly participated.” She leant in closer, whispering, “I was too busy making heart eyes at the wrong prince.”

“At least there weren't thirty four other girls trying to win him over at the same time.” I teased.

“There was one girl I thought liked Cody while we were in the Selection and it drove me crazy. She didn't. But I'm weird.” She confessed.

“It's easy to create doubts when there's really nothing to worry about. I have firsthand experience.”

“You're telling me.” Winter said, chuckling.

I eventually excused myself to eat food. During this time, I talked to Lady Avalon. She had the similar insights to share as Winter said. I danced with Haiden. I danced with some of the Selected. All in all, the night went a lot better than expected.

Maybe I should have been more excited

[okbyokaybye]

Francesca- Actually Stealing From Companies Is Okay Making a case for workplace theft, shoplifting, looting, and other forms of taking stuff from businesses

VIA THE ANARCHIST LIBRARY

You’re reading this because you work too much and still eat and live like shit. Or maybe because you’ve given in to the feeling we all have — that having a job feels bad and you don’t really want to work that much...and you also eat and live like shit. You’ve been told all your life that criminals like you are bad people. I hope to convince you not to believe that and to stop playing a game you were designed to lose, or at least to cheat it a little. I think you’re worth it.

WHY DO PEOPLE STEAL FROM BUSINESSES?

I steal because I’m hungry or need something I can’t afford comfortably or at all. I steal because some days I’m just bored and frustrated from either working on the clock or trying to prepare to clock back in (days off/ vacation) and it feels good. And I steal because I don’t have any real choices in most things I do in day to day life (work to pay for rent, feverishly try to decompress in my time off so I can be ready to go back to work, repeat) and stealing dumplings from Whole Foods might be the only thing I do today that was truly my own freely made decision.

Most people who would advocate theft might begin by reassuring you that stealing from businesses doesn’t hurt anybody. They would tell you that employees working for a wage don’t tend to see those wages influenced by product theft, and that most stores actually factor product loss into their budget so the store revenue itself is also barely affected at all by your theft. While those things are true, I’m not exactly that person. I WISH I could hurt or even inconvenience a company owner by taking some of his investments from him. If I could get back at even one of the bosses I’ve ever worked for through workplace theft, I would love to do that. Sadly though, at this point, things are so unfathomably overproduced, wealth is so unimaginably hoarded, and power is so terrifyingly concentrated, I could spend the rest of my life looting as much as my arms could carry and I would never be able to make my crimes pose even the smallest threat to a single lowgrade millionaire. And that’s the bad news.

The good news is, I do steal to survive, and because of that, I’ve given myself a life where I can wage work a little less than the average person and while I wouldn’t call myself “free” because of this, I have stolen time in my life that I use for more important things than either a job, or day-off-style leisure, both of which I don’t think make my life worth living.

And I’m not scrambling to justify theft beyond that. I’m uninterested in deserving anything that a person with more cash has easier access to than me. If I’m not going to be given a choice in participating in the game of law and order, then I’m not going to feel badly about cheating it. It’s not my game, and I’m not going to be given a chance to win so I’m not going to play where I’m able to opt myself out. I don’t want to be ‘deserving’ in the same way I don’t want to be ‘tolerated’ (for example, straight people exercising tolerance of the gay people). I don’t want to be ‘tolerated’ in the same way I don’t want to be ‘innocent’ (I’m not against crime, I’m against law, I don’t want to fight for my innocence, or legality, I want to fight against anything that would classify me as either a criminal or a citizen).

I see tolerance as just a quiet, suppressed hatred in the same way that being deserving is just being softly restricted. I don’t want to DESERVE food, clothes, books, etc. I want to HAVE those things because I’m alive and because it’s available and the dumplings from Whole Foods taste good. I don’t want to be trained into gratitude for the opportunity to deserve food, like a pet.

Whether you’re a hard worker or a cheat (a good-poor or a bad-poor), you’re still the designated loser in the eyes of the game of law, work, economy, whatever. But that’s in THOSE eyes. In my eyes, you’re doing what you have to do to get by. I once talked to a houseless guy busking in the French Quarter who recalled living in New Orleans just after Katrina when he and a few other people from his neighborhood would periodically go out and loot (as many others famously did) what they and their neighbors might need to survive the hellscape that week. He told me his block thought of him as a hero and he probably did save or improve a few lives by taking what needed taking. Which is of course miserable in hindsight, given that now he lives as a homeless criminal, hated by upstanding citizens, policed by the police, etc. The law doesn’t ‘misunderstand’ what looting meant to Katrina survivors, I think it actually understood very well that theft is necessary for survival in that case. We are not experiencing a misunderstanding or a bad translation with law, we are experiencing a conflict with it. There is no state or economic power that needs truth spoken to it. What we want is on the other side of it, not within it.

WHAT ABOUT SMALL BUSINESSES?

The handful of often repeated arguments against taking things from businesses rely on a few hypothetical exceptions that get waved around like a weird fantasy flag. The most common hypothetical perfect victim is The Downtrodden Business Owner. The shitty-apartment-renting, poverty stricken, unpaid-bills-having business owner makes up such a tiny, barely visible percent of actual real life company owners, it actually pains me to give this strange desperate argument page space. Plus, if your definition of a victim has about $30,000 just lying around to startup a small business, we have very different definitions of a victim.

Regardless, the attempt to personify a company is so weird to me. A company isn’t human, it’s a series of investments made, often intended to turn around to create a profit margin which expands as you pay employees less and sell things for more money. So I mean, yeah I would prioritize a person having a meal or getting Advil over a company keeping one of its many investments on a shelf. That’s easy.

I really hate throwing numbers around in a piece like this because you can just do that on your own time, but I’ll data drop one thing here so we can be done with numbers and get on with it. The qualifying criteria for obtaining a Small Business Administration loan states that a small business is one with fewer than 500 employees and less than $7 million in annual sales. Also, the vast majority of this very small percentage of business owners you’re waving around like a mascot to represent your defense of investments are paying their hundred or so employees next to nothing an hour and working them to the bone, not that that totally makes a difference to my argument, but it’s worth mentioning if that’s what it takes to cut down a fictional argument tool.

Look, I’m not telling you what to do, if you walk into a store and think the owner has it worse than you, you can go snag your shit from a Walmart. I wouldn’t stop you. The small business owner anomaly that fits the downtrodden narrative will go out of business, almost guaranteed within the first year, and it will usually be because they just didn’t and couldn’t have the tools to compete with bigger companies selling the same thing. It’s bullshit to imagine a scenario where stolen eyeliner could be the straw that breaks any business camel’s back.

NEED VS. WANT

Unsurprisingly, I’m not going to attempt to split hairs between stealing for “need” and stealing for “want.” I’m not trying to claim that theft from businesses is ‘right’ (yo it totally is) and stealing from a company is a victimless crime (again, I wish it wasn’t). I think defining ‘need’ is a lot hazier than people with slogan-length talking points like to admit, especially given all the multitudes of ways poverty, or even just not being rich, is unbearable. It’s not just hunger and illness that makes living difficult -- modern living is also just extremely boring. To me, a need can be relaxation, a night out with a friend, a book, etc. People are more than just eating, shitting, sleeping machines and we do “need” more than food and shelter. Rather, I want to simplify my argument and say that company theft is good because paywalls are bad, full stop.

Company theft isn’t good “in the instance of ___” but is actually always fine because paywalls are always a punishment/reward tool and refusing to be trained by an economic system or state is empowering.

Unfortunately, we won’t often be able to opt out of the law and money game we’re trying to cheat. Some of us will get followed around stores because of the way we look. Some days, we’ll have to go to work so we can pay rent. We’ll have to use some of the rent money to fix a tire or go to the hospital and hope we have enough left over to not get evicted. But we’ll take what we can get, share when we can get it, and survive to pull other stunts.

[my-gloomy-heaven-blog]

Code Unturned

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