#(have you guys looked at the moon lately? fucking nuts dude)

[coquelicoq]

i went outside today (my guardian angel points to the light-up sign currently displaying the word APPLAUSE)

[lihikainanea]

This is a long angsty thought I had so I apologize: Bill and Tiger on vacation with friends and this is the first one with a few new editions to the group. Tiger gets along with all of them, but one night the girl reveals she wants to get with Bill. While Tiger gets a flare of jealousy, the calming waves and shining moon makes her feel a little more vulnerable than normal. She plays it cool, but she can’t help noticing how this girl is nice, she’s a solid friend from what Tiger can tell. She bottles up her emotions from the conversation, going straight to bed without texting or visiting Bill’s room. He’s slightly worried, of course, but just figured she got wasted. She had given him a key to her room so he walked in late to get some lovin, but she’s asleep. He sees the tears on her face, still wet and he knows somethings wrong. She wakes up from his stare and she loses it. He tries being stern with her, but he knew it was really bad when that didn’t work. She sadly tells him and he doesn’t say it’s dumb or that she’s overthinking. He just kisses her, plain stupid, grabbing her face and pulling her onto him. “Every time I look at you, kid. Every single time I look for you specifically and that won’t change.” He says, the warmth in her chest makes her head spin, and she smiles which he returns. “Plus, she spent the night with another guy hear yesterday, she was probably just a little vacation lovesick, just like another girl I know” He says, pinching her bottom. (Okay I’m done, but when she feels up to it he definitely fucks her so good she’s speechless and has to keep repeating that she’s his.)

Ohhhh sweet nani, the thoughts you have given me.

Thank you.

Thank you.

I love it when tiger just kind of gets all up in her head about this thing she has going with Bill, because goddamn if that ain't relatable eh? My friends and I talk about this a lot, about the differences in the way men and women approach dating or hell, even hitting on someone. And we have come to one main conclusion: men will almost always approach and hit on someone WAY the fuck out of their league, and women seldom will.

I don't know about ya'll, but when I see an insanely attractive guy I just like...shut down. I stare at my feet. I mumble. I blush. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole--and the last thing on my mind is "yo, I'mma hit on this tall drink of water." Like, I would literally rather pull my own teeth out than hit on a guy that is so ridiculously attractive and so COMPLETELY OUT OF MY LEAGUE.

But dudes? Dudes will see a solid 10 walking down the street and think "Thank god I'm a fucking 14 because that bish is mine." It's actually incredible. Like, it's a scientific phenomenon.

For all the confidence that us women lack, the wrong men seem to have absorbed it all by fucking osmosis.

Fascinating.

ANYWAY. I'll bet tiger feels like that a lot. Bill is just...he's so much, you know? On the surface level there's his insane good looks, his height, the fact that he's a rich motherfucker, and he's famous. All of that weighs on tiger's mind, yes, but then she's even worse off because she knows what's underneath too. A kind, gentle mammoth of a man, the most empathic person she has ever met, someone who is incredibly sensitive and who takes such good care of her, worries over her, tries every day to make her happy. And tiger just...tiger will never understand how she got so lucky.

But then alright, it's time for another friend vacation and this time there are a few new additions. People try not to make a big deal out of it but somehow there always is just a slight check in with Bill--nobody does it outright because god Bill would be mortified and so would everyone else, but there is definitely a few mentions of new people joining the vacation and it gives Bill a chance to back out if he's not comfortable with the idea.

And maybe tiger really does genuinely hit it off with one of the girls. She's a real firecracker, and the exact type of person that tiger respects. She's funny, she's pretty as all hell, she's not afraid to make a bit of a fool of herself to make everyone laugh. This girl eats like a trucker and swears like a sailor, and tiger thinks she's good people. So much so that one night maybe the boys go off and do their own thing, macho bonding or some shit, and tiger and this girl grab some drinks and have some good girl bonding time.

But then it happens. A few drinks in, it happens. And this girl absolutely isn't trying any in vino veritas bullshit, this is really just the first opportunity she's had to drill a little deeper.

"So what's his deal?" she asks. Tiger blinks, sips her drink.

"Who's deal?" she replies. But tiger knows exactly who.

"Bill," she says, "Is he single?"

"Oh, uh," tiger knocks back another big sip of her drink, "...Yeah. Yeah he's single."

Because what is she supposed to say? No, he's taken? Then that would lead to questions about why he's on this vacation alone.

The girl gets a devious smirk, steeples her fingers together--and tiger just wants to hit something, because goddamn this girl is cute. Adorable, even. And when she gives a little whoop and a dorky fistpump, tiger feels her stomach drop to the floor--not because she's after Bill, no no, even worse--because she's actually just so perfect for him.

"Diiiiiiibs," the girl says, "Man I've been eyeing that tall drink of water all trip."

"Ha, yeah," tiger stammers awkwardly and downs the rest of her drink, "He's a handsome one."

"Are you cool with it?" the girl asks, and actually places a concerned hand on tiger's knee, "I don't want to...come between anything. If there is anything." Dis bitch is cute as a button and kind. Fuck.

Tiger gives a casual shrug.

"Why wouldn't I be cool with it?" she says, "I....don't have any claim to him."

"Would it be weird for you?"

"Go for it," she mumbles.

And tiger wants to tell this girl to back off, that Bill is claimed, and that Bill is being claimed every goddamn night of this vacation to the point where his back jammed on him again and tiger had to ice it down this morning. But she can't say any of that--and in true tiger fashion, she just gets a little sad about it. Anger and ferocious defensiveness for Bill would be her first reaction if this girl was a real fucking idiot, but god she's just....she's so nice.

"Okay, okay okay okay," the girl smoothes her hair down, starts to look real serious, "Help a bitch out. What should I do?"

And poor tiger, tiger has to sit there the whole night while this girl actually schemes to get her claws into Bill. And tiger is almost forced to help.

She retreats back to her own room that night, nauseated, sad, and with raw emotions bubbling to the surface. And bless your heart sweet nani, bless your heart for knowing mine so well--because the shining moon absolutely gets to her, the call of the crashing waves. Tiger sits out on her balcony for a bit but she just cries. Just lets it all overwhelm her, lets herself feel every emotion she tried to reel in that night as she helped give a girl tips on how to get Bill. And when she's too exhausted, when it's all just too much--she goes to bed. She misses the text messages from Bill--doesn't even look at her phone, actually. Just curls up in Sad Girl form, all balled in on herself, and falls asleep.

And Bill thinks it's pretty strange that she's not responding, and it's even more strange that she didn't let herself into his room which they had agreed would be their place of rendezvous that night. So instead, he does a quick check of the hallways and then Pink Panther's his lanky ass against the wall before deftly swiping his key card in her door and opening it.

And that's exactly how he finds her, cheeks still wet, her own thumb in her mouth, all curled in on herself. Concerned, he traces a gentle finger down her cheek and she stirs.

"Tiger," he crouches down to be eye level with her, "What's wrong?"

She blinks sleepily, bristles a little, and swipes at her cheeks.

"Nothing," she croaks. Her throat is dry from crying, and she winces.

He doesn't say anything. Just brushes his thumbs across her cheeks, keeping her face in his hands.

"Tiger," he says sternly, "We have rules."

"Yellow," she says immediately, "I don't...I don't want--"

"Okay," he soothes, running his hands up her arms, "We won't. But tiger, can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Bill, it's nothing. Let's just go to sleep."

But like, she's cracking. There are fresh tears rolling down her cheeks now, and Bill knows she needs to let something out.

"It's me kid," he says softly, "You can tell me anything."

And like, tiger cracks. It opens the floodgates. She tells him everything--the entire conversation, every little detail of it. When she works herself up too much at some points, when he starts to hear a wheeze in her breath, he puts a steadying hand on her knee to help ground her. But she lets it all out--every detail, everything this girl said about him, everything tiger told her. She's full on crying again by the end, but Bill just listens. He listens, and he waits.

And you know what I love here, nani? God it's so important. Bill doesn't tell her she's nuts. Doesn't tell her she's foolish for ever thinking he wanted anyone but her. Because that's not what will get through to her. Instead, just like he always does--he loves her and reassures her in the way that she needs, in the way that she can recognize in that moment.

He waits as she pauses, waits to see if she'll continue, but she doesn't.

"Are you done?" he asks quietly. She nods.

"Can I say something now?" he ducks to catch her gaze, and she nods again. He pulls her into his lap.

"Tiger, it's you," he says simply, "It's you kid. Only, and always."

She sniffles, and he kisses her nose.

"Everybody else can try as much as they want. They can give it their best shot. It won't matter," he continues, "It's you, kid."

Ugh, my fucking heart. It gives her the reassurance that she needs. And listen, over the next few days, Bill finds little ways to reinforce that. Maybe this girl does take a shot at him--and he politely, gently shoots her down. Maybe when tiger is feeling ready for it, man he gives it to her so good that she has to stay in bed the next day, because she's walking funny. It's his secret glances, his small winks, his hand on her knee under the table, rising just a liiiiiiiittle high under the safety of the dark night club.

It's everything she needs, in the way that she needs it.

this ask was a gift nani, thank you.

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Stubborn Asshole (A Zak Bagans x Reader SMUT)

WARNINGS: Smut, language, possession

Special Thanks: To @xcazzax​ for being an awsome reader and source of inspiration. I couldn’t do this without you girly. 🥰

I love Aaron like a brother, don’t get me wrong, but DAMN HIM FOR BRINGING SUCH AN ASSHOLE INTO MY LIFE!

Douchey McGee: Hey Aaron said to message u.

He said: Get the fuck up Y/N!

Me: Tell him I said thnx and

and 2 not have the douche do

his dirty work.

Douchey McGee: Well fuck u 2 Y/N.

I sighed and crawled out of my hotel bed. We’d flown in late the previous night and I was still exhausted. I showered and got dressed in my ripped black skinny jeans, my black GAC shirt, and combat boots. I grabbed my hoodie and purse on the way out. Downstairs in the attached restaurant the rest of the crew were gathered for breakfast and much needed coffee.

“Morning gorgeous,” Aaron greeted.

“Fuck off Goodwin, I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” I said taking my seat beside him. “And by the way since when is boss man your own personal secretary.”

“And here I thought you didn’t know me as anything but Douche McGee, douche, or my personal favorite: Stubborn asshole son of a bitch.” Zak chimed in.

“Good morning to you too Satan,” I rolled my eyes.

I swear ever since we met Zak has made it his life mission to push my buttons in any way he can. But unfortunately for this psychotic fuck, two can play that game.

“Huh that’s original,” Zak continued.

I rolled my eyes and ordered an omelet with coffee. “So you gonna tell me when you decided to make boss man your bitch?” I asked Aaron.

“Well I figured I’ve been the bitch long enough so…” Aaron said.

“Dude, since when have I ever treated you like a bitch?” Zak asked.

“Every time you forced him to stay in a fucked up room by himself during an investigation like a fucking sadist?” I pointed out.

“Oh...right…” Zak said looking like he felt a tinge of guilt.

“Does that mean I’m a bitch too since he’s been doing the same thing to me lately?” Billy chimed in.

“Unfortunately,” I said just as my breakfast arrived arrived. “Oh, thanks.” I said to the waitress.

“Only you can go from bitchy to bubbly in zero seconds flat,” Zak said.

“Fuck you too, Bagans,” I muttered taking a bite of my omelet.

“Not in this life babe,” Zak muttered taking a sip of his coffee.

It continued like that even in the car on the way to the days location: Bly Manor. According to our sources Bly Manor was built in the 1800’s by Charles Bly, an Irish immigrant who made a fortune selling liquor and tobacco. By the time of the Civil War he decided to try his hand at weapons manufacturing which earned him enough to break ground on his dream house. He lived in the manor with his family. His wife Athena, and his daughter Josephine.

It said that on a sunny afternoon while do work in the Manor’s yard a man by the name of Bishop Wiley showed up and shot him dead. Supposedly Wiley’s son Robert was a soldier in the war and was killed by the very guns Charles helped build.

Charles has since been purported sighted walking the manor grounds. His wife Athena has been seen playing the piano, and wandering the halls. As for Josephine well… she was the most famous spirit of all.

“Josephine has been seen on the balcony of the Red Room,” explained our tour guide as we interviewed her. “The story goes that Josephine had met and fallen in love with a man at a nearby farm. And just before they were due to be married he left to fight in the war. She promised to wait for him there until his return. Hopeful that they could still marry and have a family. Sadly the man lost his life in Gettysburg. Charles felt so horrible he felt the need to keep it from her. So she continued to wait. And continues to wait to this very day.”

My heart ached for Josephine. It’s a whole other level of hell to lose someone so dear… I damn near jumped when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” Zak asked.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” I said before following the tour guide.

We eventually took a break for lunch and then got ready for the investigation. Unlike most of the crew I made it a habit of carrying a small black backpack. I was just stuffing a recorder, spirit box, and MEL Meter when someone pat my shoulder.

“Hey are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Zak asked again.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m good, um, why the niceties?”

“I may be an asshole sometimes but I do feel for people now and then,” he said.

“Even me?” I arched an eyebrow at him. Before he could answer Aaron barged in needing to grab a spare lens for the camera.

We continued prepping in silence and then slowly but eventually the sun went down and moon shined bright.

Aaron, Zak, and I went in together. We worked together as a group for a while before (in true Zak Bagans fashion) we split up.

“Y/N I want you to stay up here for a while and see if Josephine will communicate with you,” Zak said.

“Alright,” I said stepping out onto Josephine’s balcony. Zak and Aaron disappeared through the Red Room door and I took out my recorder. “Josephine, are you here?” I started. “If so do you think you could answer a few questions for me? I promise you I mean no harm. Just speak into this little device for me.”

I felt a chill in the air but continued. “Why are you still waiting for him?” I asked. “Don’t you think he’s waiting for you on the other side?”

I suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of sadness and anxiety. I slid down to the ground and then... He promised me. I kept thinking for some odd reason. He promised...he promised we’d go...he promised on the stars...he promised we’d be together.

The thoughts kept coming, and I don’t know when it started but I only realized I was crying when I felt someone shake me violently. “Y/N TALK TO ME DAMMIT!!!”

Zak knelt in front of me looking freaked. “D-Don’t ever leave me,” I cried. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“Josephine leave her alone, please,” Zak asked. “I know what happened to you was cruel and unfair but that doesn’t mean she should suffer like this.” Call me crazy but Zak actually sounded kind of pissed. There was another chill and he knelt beside me again. “I’m here  sweetheart…” He whispered brushing my cheek with his hand. “I’m here.”

I looked up at him and saw a face that was not his. His hair was chocolate brown and barely touched his shoulders, his eyes the same. My heart took off in joy and I threw my arms around him. He squeezed me before pulling back and taking my face in his hands. “Promise not to disappear on me again?” I asked.

“I promise,” he muttered before bringing his lips to mine. We kissed passionately as though it was a long time coming. After a while it felt like a weight lifted off me and my legs became limp. “WHOA!”

Zak caught me. It was for sure him this time. I was suddenly more aware of things...more awake. “Zak...what? What happened?”

“I dunno,” he said. “But I’m getting you the fuck out of here.”

He scooped me up in his arms and carried me all the way to the GAC van.

“You know you didn’t have to carry me right?”

“Says the girl who just nearly passed out on me,” Zak said setting me down in the back of the van.

“Um Zak did you want us to edit out the last bit of her footage or..?” Billy asked awkwardly.

“Edit it out? Why?” Zak asked. Blushing furiously Billy replayed the footage from the night vision cam we had facing the balcony. It showed me slowly crumbling and then…

“Oh sweet fucking Jesus,” I groaned as Zak and I started making out on screen.

“Uh...yeah I don’t think we need to uh-*cough*-show that,” Zak said turning back to me. “Are you, uh, gonna be okay?”

“Um...yeah I think so,” I said not entirely meeting his eye. “You-uh-you go ahead. I’m just gonna chill with Billy the rest of the night.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Now go before I drag you back in by your balls,” I threatened.

“Oh yeah you’re gonna be fine,” he said turning his back on me.

“You know you two are actually kinda hot together,” Billy said.

“What? Are you high? Zak and I can barely stand each other,” I said.

“Bull-fucking-shit Y/N,” Billy laughed. “We all can see there is insane tension going on between you. We just don’t get why you guys haven’t done anything about it.”

“What are we the hot gossip going around the office or something?”

“I mean, if this almost-porno is anything to go by...then yeah.”

“Billy I swear to God if I catching you jerking off to that—.”

“You’ll cut my nuts off I know,” he finished for me. “Besides I would never in hell jerk off to my best friend and his girl. It’s too weird.”

“I’m not his girl,” I snapped at him.

“Whatever you say Y/N,” Billy laughed. “Now did you wanna review this evidence with me or..?”

And so I did.

Once the investigation ended we packed up, caught a few minutes sleep then made our way back to Vegas.

Billy, Jay, and Aaron were dropped off first. Then it was just me and Zak.

Aaron: Try not to kill Zak please.

Me: No promises.

Zak then pulled up to my place.

“Are we never gonna talk about it?” I asked as he parked.

“What’s there to say?” he asked. “It-It was a freak incident. We-we weren’t ourselves.”

“True you were actually nice for once,” I said sarcastically.

Zak glared at me. “Go fuck yourself, Y/N.”

“Fuck me yourself you coward,” I blurted out. “I mean...um...fuck!” I sighed and stepped out of the car. I had just unlocked my door when…

“Y/N!” I turned around and saw Zak running up to me.

“Wha―” I was cut off by Zak slamming his lips to mine.

He kissed me hard, as though he was relieving an ache deep within his heart. I kissed back and clumsily opened my door. Zak picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist and carried me to my bedroom. He placed me on the bed and I reached up to pull his shirt off. I tossed it aside and eventually more articles of clothing followed.

Zak laid me back on the bed and started pecking a trail of kisses all the way down to my heat. A moan escaped my lips as he kissed and sucked on me. “HO-HOLY SHIT!”

To say Zak knew what he was doing would be an understatement. He didn’t stop eating me until I was writhing beneath him. “Z-ZAK!” My back arched and my toes curled up in the most powerful orgasm of my life.

He crawled back up to me, smirking. “Not much of an asshole anymore, am I?”

“Oh shut up,” I brought my lips back to his as I ran my hand up and down his length which like the rest of him was thick and hard. I suddenly felt him move my hand before he reached down and placed himself at my entrance. He kissed me once more before pushing in. “FUCK! How the fuck have you been single this long?”

“Demons tends to be excellent cock blocks,” Zak said as he started to thrust. “Lucky for us, they tend to stay away from you.”

“R-Really?”

He grunted then nodded. Despite his big, tough, persona Zak was actually really sensual and passionate in bed. He kept his thrusts gentle (probably because he knew his above average size could inflict some damage if he wasn’t careful) until I urged him to go faster and harder. After a while he flipped us over so that I was on top. I rode him hard, and Zak, being a gentleman, helped me out by thrusting up into me as I did.

The tension began building up inside me. “Fuck...Zak I-I think I’m gonna…” It hit me like a wave. I tightened around him, arching my back, and damn near screaming his name.

Zak flipped us over again and continued thrusting until he grew sloppy. I suddenly felt him twitch inside me as he cursed and groaned. His body shuttered as he painted my womb with his seed. Finally he collapsed beside me, both of us breathless.

“Wow,” I said.

“I know,” Zak said.

Once my breathing was under control I turned to him. “So...what now?”

He looked over at me.

“I guess we just be together,” he said. “It’s kind of what you do when you’re insanely in love with someone.”

“You’re in love with me?” I asked.

“I’ve always been in love with you,” he smiled. “Ever since we met...I just didn’t want the spirits in my life to hurt you so I decided to keep you away.”

“What changed?”

“Besides that they for some reason stay away from you?” I nodded. “I was tired of letting them get in the way of what I want. I was tired of being away from you.” He draped his arm over my waist. “I love you.” He muttered.

“I love you too,” I said pecking him on his swollen lips.

We spent almost every day together after that. It’s been a year and we are still together. Life was the same for the most part. We still investigated places, while not in bed or spending time with each other. The guys were relieved to see us together (at last) until our PDA became a little too much for them to handle. Oh and there was one other difference as well…

“Y/N BAGANS COME GET YOUR MAN HE’S BEING FUCKING TERRIFYING AGAIN!” Aaron shouted at me through the walkie.

“What happened to having the preggo investigator hang back all night?” I asked rubbing my stomach. Zak made everyone swear not to let me into the buildings with malicious spirits and demons.

“Y/N please,” Aaron begged.

I sighed and looked down. ���Aaron Nicholas Bagans for the love of god don’t be a stubborn asshole like your daddy.”

With that I exited the van and went to save the love of my life.

[threeletterslife]

Resonance

→ summary: your college art final prompt is so unbelievably broad that you might just flunk it because you have no idea what you’re gonna draw. luckily, there’s a cute guy who’s totally into you that might just help you out. even better: he’s a merman.

→ pairing/rating: taehyung x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 80% crack, 20% fluff | mermaid!au & bullet point fic

→ warnings: profanity

→ wordcount: 9.4k

cr.

well

this is just

great

you are a creative person

you are a creative person

you ARE a creative person

ok maybe if you keep saying that in your head, it’ll come true

but fat chance

because you're still drawing a blank

your university professor JUST released the art final prompt

and it is the most broadest and vaguest prompt you've seen in your whole entire nineteen years of life

it sucks!!

like what the fuck?

how are you supposed to draw something that "calls to you"

what's that supposed to mean???

your best friend yoongi tries to help you interpret the wack prompt

but you really shouldn’t be trusting a guy who uses art sketchbooks as scratch paper to solve batshit crazy math problems for fun

it’s a no brainer that yoongi’s a no-nonsense chemical engineering major

in conclusion, he wouldn’t know aRT

not like you do anyways

he can barely draw a stickman. and he even has shitty handwriting (that’s so barely legible that he always gets called back after finals to translate his writing for the prof)

enough roasting your best friend though

especially when he’s actually trying to lend you a hand

“what calls to you…” yoongi trails off thoughtfully

he lets out a snort

“ha!” he says triumphantly. “y/n, i got it!”

“really?!”

“just draw a phone with your mother coming out of it!”

you frown. “i don’t get it”

yoongi sighs, shaking his head disdainfully

“because your mother literally calls you on the phone, y/n”

“i hate you”

yoongi is no help

“prof would flunk me if i turned a drawing like that in”

yoongi snorts. “or she’ll give you extra points for thinking literally. artists these days are so into thinking outside of the box. maybe you’ll be unique for being literal”

god no

being literal won’t fly with your professor

she’s the fucking queen of abstract art

if you hand her a painting of your mother coming out of a fucking phone, she might just burn the piece in front of your face

besides, you can’t draw something that doesn’t stir some sort of inspiration in you

no offense to your mother (but she’s also a no-nonsense physician)

yoongi’s just back at it again with his nonsensical advice

you’d expect better from the dude who does math for fun

“you know what?” you huff. “i can’t trust a guy who uses a freaking sketchbook to solve advanced calculus problems”

yoongi grins. “just tryna help, y/n”

“my god”

“wanna help me since i helped you?” yoongi teases

he holds up a stack of paper riddled with numbers with one too many digits and foreign symbols from the greek alphabet

ew

you feel like you’re gonna puke

“aaaaand goodbye!” you say, standing up from your seat at the campus cafe. “i’m gonna go to the beach!”

“right now??”

“yeah why not?” you laugh, shrugging. “i need some inspiration!”

“but then i’m gonna look like a loner sitting here all by myself,” yoongi pouts

“then come with me, duh”

yoongi gives you a look of repulsion

“i hate the beach,” he grumbles

“fine,” you snort. “just call hoseok or something. i don’t know. but i’m leaving! bYe!!”

you can hear yoongi cursing at you under his breath and you laugh

he’s got such a mouth of a sailor that he honestly belongs on the beach—if not, the ocean

you pay his cursing no mind as you rush out the cafe and across the school campus

the literal reason you chose to attend this university was its close proximity to the beach

you’ve always been drawn to the waters

yoongi, on the other hand, only came here because of a scholarship

smart bastard

but he’s a good friend

it’s kinda sad you’re always hanging on the beach alone though

you don’t particularly fit in with the rowdy party crowds on the sand

and you don’t go there to flaunt your summer body in a bikini

you just go for

~inspiration~

by the time you reach the beach, it’s nearly empty

when it’s nearing finals, no one dares to step foot on the warm sand because once you go in, there’s no way in hell you’re going back

some students learn the hard way

and then end up flunking their finals

it’s you

you’re ‘some students’

(to be fair, that was freshman year and you’re a sophomore now, so you won’t make the same mistake again!!)

okay… maybe

you’re on the beach and it’s nearing finals so maybe you haven’t learned your lesson

but in your defense, you’re only here for

~inspiration~

the salty ocean breeze caressing your face

the smell of open waters

the brisk air

you would live on the beach if you could

there’s a small little rocky ledge at the far side of the beach that serves as your little private area you’ve been using since you got here

no one ever comes this far

so you just claimed the rocky ledge as yours

it’s where there are cute little crabs roaming about

where the bright orange starfish and sea anemones attach themselves to the rocks in the shallow tide pool and (maybe) watch you watch them

(you don’t exactly have extensive knowledge about ocean life lol)

omg there was even this one time when you saw a fish in the tide pool

granted, it was dEaD so you had to make yoongi carry it in a plastic bag and give it a proper burial ceremony

anywho

you love sea animals and plants!!

for a brief second as you crawl onto the rocky ledge you contemplate if you should draw a fucking fish for your art final

technically, it calls to you… right?

the late afternoon sun warms up your cheeks and you sigh, out, leaning back to admire the waves of the ocean lapping at the wet sand on the beach

if you just lie like this, basking in the sun… you’ll come up with an idea… right?

two hours later, you’re still stumped

“well, fuck,” you curse

the tide’s starting to come in and your feet are already underwater

it looks like you should just go back to your dorm at this point

you’ll find your ~inspiration~ tomorrow

you sigh

why can’t you think of a cool idea for fuck’s sake

what calls to me??

the only thing you can think of is a flobbering fish and your mom coming out of a phone (a tribute to yoongi)

you end up accidentally staying until the moon’s high in the sky

the waters have turned into a black oblivion and the tide’s so high, you have to shift up the rock to avoid making it look like you wet your pants

if you were a werewolf, you could draw the moon

because haha, get it? the moon calls to them!

but unfortunately, you are not a werewolf

“this sucks,” you huff

usually, you’re quick to come up with good ideas and it’s frustrating that for finals you can’t do the same

right when things actually matter

you look down from the sky to stare at your feet

maybe you’ll just stay here until you can come up with an idea

you aren’t gonna give up so soon

besides, the quiet sound of the undulating waves is so soothing

you stay a little longer, gazing at the twinkling stars and daydreaming of simpler times when your art teachers would tell you exactly what to draw without giving you vague-ass prompts to interpret

that’s when something catches your eye in the dark waters

illuminated by the starlight… you see… a…

HUMAN???

“hey!” you shriek

okay now you’re 1000% sure there’s someone in the ocean right now

they have a head of bright turquoise hair and pale but toned arms

yet the person has their back turned to you so you can’t quite see their face (though you assume they’re attractive just based on the back of their head)

“hey!” you shout again

come to think of it,,,

are they skinny dipping in the fucking ocean???

freshmen these days!! they’re nuts!

“you’re gonna die of hypothermia!” you yell. “or a shark’s gonna bite your limbs off!”

slowly

very slowly

the kid turns around

and you nearly choke on your breath

because he is beautiful

not in a conventional tiktok boy way but in a mysterious manner

his alabaster skin glows in the starlight

his turquoise-colored hair is styled perfectly on his head, just swept gracefully across his forehead

his deep sea-green eyes sparkle as he cocks his head and stares at you

oh god

he’s definitely shirtless

“h-hey!” you call again, hoping you don’t sound desperate. “what are you doing??”

the boy doesn’t answer though

he just stares at you curiously, eyes glancing back and forth at your bare legs and your shocked face

normally, you’d be creeped out if a random guy decided to check out your legs, but for some reason, the boy doesn’t stare at you like he’s a predator

he just looks… curious

you gasp when he suddenly disappears underwater

“hey!!” you shriek

damn. maybe he just wanted to be alone

no biggie

you’ll just sit on the rock or something until he decides to talk?

or you can be like any other sane person and just go back to your dorm

a sudden splash of water jumps you out of your thoughts

you nearly fall back when the strange boy stares up at you from the ledge of the rock

he’s still submerged under the water up to his shoulders, but he leans against the rock and smiles at you

it’s as if he’s saying ‘hey, loud person, who won’t shut up. how are you today? nice to meet you’

at least you think that’s what he’s trying to convey to you

“hi?” you say, raising your eyebrows. “isn’t the water cold?”

the boy shrugs his shoulders then shakes his head

he seems friendly enough that you decide to continue talking to him

he has a strange alluring aura that makes you want to get to know him

before you know it, you’re scooting closer to the stranger

he doesn’t flinch when you’re close enough to touch his strangely dry head of beautiful hair

“woah,” you deadpan. “how’s your hair dry?”

the boy shrugs again, smiling mischievously

can he even talk??

or maybe he’s just being polite and he wants you to leave

maybe he’s naked?? and he actually is a skinny dipper

and he wants you to get the hell away from him so he can get into his clothes??

“do you want me to leave…?” you ask cautiously

the boy shakes his head

ookkayyy…

“oh… it’s just that you’re not talking to me so i just thought…” you trail off, uncertain

the boy laughs and it’s the only kind of sound you’ve heard from him since you first saw him in the waters a few minutes ago

and his laugh is just like the rest of him—beautiful

the boy touches his throat with one hand and shakes his head

you frown

what?

the boy repeats the motion again and again until it finally clicks in your head

oh!!!!

“wait, you can’t speak?” you say. “i’m sorry… i didn’t know!”

the boy smiles as if saying ‘it’s all right. you’re fine’

“i haven’t seen you around campus…” you start. “do you live around here?”

the boy shakes his head

“you just like late-night swims, huh?” you giggle. “i’d swim too but something about swimming in the ocean at night is super scary for me”

the boy laughs good-heartily. he points at you curiously, then gestures at the surroundings

“oh, why am i here?” you say

the boy nods his head

“i’m just trying to get inspiration,” you say. “i’m an artist”

the boy smiles widely. he raises his eyebrows and points at you

“yes, really!” you laugh. “wanna sit on the rock with me?” you say, patting the spot next to you. “you don’t have to be stuck in the ocean to talk to me”

the boy hesitates

he looks at you through his beautiful eyes and parts his pink lips

it’s as if he’s asking, ‘can i really sit next to you?’

“i don’t bite!” you laugh. “at least, the last time i checked”

the boy giggles

he reaches out and lightly touches your hand

you’re shocked when you realize his hands aren’t wet from the water

come to think of it, you are covered in more water droplets than the boy

well

something is a bit fishy around here

you slowly look up at the boy’s face

he shrugs but a mischievous, all-knowing smile plays on his lips

“what are you, a mermaid?” you snort

the boy looks offended, placing a hand against his chest and letting out a silent scoff

“sorry. i meant merman,” you roll your eyes. “better?”

you were only half-joking

but when the boy waves what looks like a fucking tail towards you, you nearly fall back

“WAIT!” you shriek

that better be a fucking costume

the boy laughs and he swims a bit away from the rock, only to do a backflip

that’s when you see that this boy is not really a boy

he’s a mythical mermaid???

with a sparkling turquoise tail and everything?? (on a side note, you have to appreciate the way it matches his hair)

okay

well

deep breath in

deep breath out

you were never one to say that mermaids existed

but you weren’t one to say that they didn’t exist either

okay

so

either you’re still dreaming or you just kinda befriended a mermaid—er, merman

“please tell me this is real!” you squeal, scooting closer to the waters so that your knees are submerged

when you were a kid and adults asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up, you said a mermaid

as you grew older, society drilled in your head that mermaids only existed in disneyland

so that was that

until now, of course

the boy pops up from the ocean again and he hoists himself up on the rock right next to you

he’s shirtless as mermen go, but that’s the least of your interests now

his tail comes up with him and he gestures towards it, allowing you to touch the shiny scales

“it’s beautiful!” you breathe, running your hands over the surprisingly silky tail. “i better not be dreaming right now”

the boy laughs. he points at your legs curiously in response as if to say, ‘i better not be dreaming too’

“you’ve never met a human??”

the boy shakes his head. he looks at you like you’re the most special person on the planet. and it makes sense too because you’re the only human he’s probably communicated with in his life

“wow… i guess there’s a first time for everything…”

the boy nods enthusiastically

“are you even allowed to approach people?”

the boy grins as if to say, ‘mAyBe’

“poseidon or some dude with a trident’s not gonna zap me with lightning for talking to you right??”

just a safety precaution!!

the boy laughs boisterously, head thrown back and eyes squinted

“well… i guess not,” you smile

you’ve never really been friends with someone… not human…

if yoongi heard you talking about this merman, he might call the psych ward on you

or you’re just batshit crazy and you’ve been imagining this in your head

the boy points at you politely, cocking his head

“my name?”

he nods vigorously

“i’m y/n!” you tell him

‘y/n…’ he mouths with his lips but you can’t hear it

“what’s your name?”

the boy presses his lips together, then as if a light bulb went off in his head, he grins

he mouths his name to you, lips pursing and parting with exaggerated movements

you squint

“daeyoung??” you guess

the boy snorts, shaking his head

he mouths his name again but this time with more emphasis in the beginning

“ohhhh! i got it!” you say excitedly. “taeyoung!”

the merman holds up a number one and nods but shakes his head when he holds up two fingers

“the second part’s wrong??”

he nods

“uhhhhhh, tae… young… young… something that rhymes with young…”

“oh!!” you shriek, “TAEHYUNG!!”

the merman claps his hands together gleefully

“am i good or what??”

taehyung pats you on the back as if to congratulate you for figuring out his name

“thanks,” you grin. “hey do you come here often? you know, on this rocky ledge”

‘yup,’ taehyung mouths. ‘i’ve seen you before,’ he mouths slowly so you can understand him

“woah. you watched me?”

taehyung bashfully looks away

“it’s okay! it’s okay!” you say. “i just hope i wasn’t doing anything embarrassing… like picking my nose or something. i’m always alone here”

taehyung grins, wiggling his eyebrows. it’s as if he’s saying that yes, he did see you picking your nose that one time

“well it’s a human thing,” you argue. “you wouldn’t understand!”

taehyung giggles. ‘sure, sure,’ he seems like he’s saying

you huff. “in my defense, i didn’t know anyone was watching!”

taehyung gives you a look as if telling you that was the lamest excuse ever

“whatever, tae,” you scoff. “i���m just flattered that you thought i looked interesting in the first place”

the merman grins wildly, making it quite obvious he likes the new nickname you had given him. he shrugs his shoulders and pokes your arm playfully. ‘friend!’ he mouths enthusiastically

“you wanna be my friend?”

taehyung rapidly nods his head

“hmmMm…” you pretend to think. “i’m a bit swamped with friends at the moment…” you fib. in reality, you only have like two best friends (yoongi and yoongi’s bestie, hoseok). but it doesn’t hurt to lie a little to tease tae

the merman’s lips pull down in a slight frown

but you snort and slap his bare shoulder

“kidding!” you giggle. “why would i say no to being your friend?”

taehyung rolls his eyes but he grins happily. he looks at you expectantly, almost as if he’s asking when he can see you next time

damn

you’re starting to get the hang of reading taehyung’s expressions

“when can you see me next time?” you ask

taehyung nods

“well… finals are coming up… i reckon you don’t have mermaid school or whatever?”

taehyung shakes his head, grinning. ‘no school!’

“lucky,” you sigh. “but fuck finals!” you pump your fist in the air. “i’ll see you tomorrow!”

‘same time?’ taehyung inquires

“sure!”

the two of you shake hands to seal the deal

you would’ve spent hours on end talking to taehyung but he’s the one who points to the direction of the beach and mouths ‘you should sleep’

“i don’t need sleep!” you declare but unfortunately, that follows with an embarrassing yawn

taehyung gives you the look

“okay… maybe i do need sleep…”

taehyung giggles. he pushes your shoulder slightly, nudging you away from him

“and i can visit you tomorrow…” you reason

taehyung nods

“so maybe i should get sleep”

‘that’s it!” the merman laughs

so you say your lasting goodbyes and watch as taehyung dives away from the rock

when he’s gone, shining tail and all, you’re left dazed and confused

maybe you’ve been hallucinating???

welp

if you were hallucinating, you’ll figure it out tomorrow when a cute merman doesn’t come to meet you at night

for now, you just need sleep to digest everything that had just happened

okay

so

you just woke up

and now you’re more unsure than ever that this… taehyung exists

what if you were so stressed out yesterday

that you were literally… seeings things

yoongi keeps asking you if you’re okay because you spaced out TEN times in ONE conversation

you keep trying to convince him that you’re fine

but yoongi knows you so well that he knows you’re definitely NOT fine

“i’m just tired!!” you tell your best friend

yoongi sCOFFS “so am i but you don’t see me spacing out like i saw a unicorn last night”

eRrrr…

how do you tell yoongi that technically you did see something like a unicorn last night???

well

you won’t

because yoongi is a no-nonsense-old-fashioned-traditional-by-the-textbook-chemical-engineering-loving-student

he would never believe you

“wEll i’m sensitive!” you protest, crossing yours arms. “plus i’m still stressed about my art final”

“i thought you went to the beach to get inspiration!” yoongi points out

“errrrr…” you scratch your head. “i got distracted”

yoongi sighs. “aRt mAjOrs”

“excuse me, how dAre you???”

but yoongi just laughs it off, patting you on the back before announcing that he had to go study for his finals

you should be studying for your other finals too

but you end up doodling all over your notes

doodles of tAeHyuNg

every ten minutes, you force yourself to sTOP doodling to actually read your notes

but it never works

by night time, you’ve gotten nowhere

oh well

now you can go meet taehyung!!

if he exists…

what if your brain was actually playing games on you??

regardless, you swallow all sense of doubt and march out to the ocean

the beach is completely empty and you make use of the privacy, skipping along the sand and towards the rocky ledge

and sure enough, there’s no one there

hMph

okay

maybe taehyung’s late

no, wait you’re early

so you’re gonna wait for the merman

and if he doesn’t come in… ten minutes, you’ll just leave and deem yourself absolutely bonkers

waiting is really boring

you keep thinking at least five minutes passed every time you look at your phone for the time

but, in reality, it’s always been less than forty seconds

you go back and forth between looking at the time to looking at the dark waters

FOR FIVE WHOLE MINUTES

you’re starting to get ANTSY

and doubt starts to settle in

if yoongi knew what you were doing right now, he’d laugh at you

oh god…

should you just… leave?

THAT’S when you see a familiar bob of turquoise hair in the waters

you let out a little shriek, scooting closer to the edge of the rock

“taehyung??” you call out

the figure leaps in the air like a gracious dolphin and dives back down into the opaque waters

two seconds later, the familiar merman leans against the rocky ledge and grins up at you

‘hey,’ he seems to say with his sparkling eyes. ‘missed me?’

“UM, YES!” you say. “i was starting to think i was going crazy”

taehyung chuckles deeply, the sound reverberating against the calm ocean waves

“i was worried you wouldn’t be here”

taehyung raises his eyebrows as if to say, ‘why wouldn’t i be here??’

“i don’t know! self doubt? maybe you have some underground castle you wanna hang around with your friends and family rather than come up to the surface to hang with me!”

taehyung shakes his head, laughing. he points to himself and mouths the word, ‘solo’

“really?” you raise your eyebrows. “no family or friends?”

taehyung nods. ‘SOLO!’ he declares silently, grinning

“are all merfolk like that??”

the merman shrugs. ‘never seen another’

“oh gosh, you must be lonely,” you say. “here.” you pat the place next to you. “sit on the rock with me”

taehyung obliges but he protests he’s not lonely by shaking his head

“what do you do by yourself all the time, then?”

taehyung grins mischievously

out of the corner of your eye, you see bubbles of water rising up from the surface of the waves. you gasp as they begin to float in the air

“bubbles!” you reach out to pop one, laughing when the remnants of the water splash against your cheek

the merman nudges you as if to say, ‘but wait! there’s more!’

the next thing you know, a huge floating water bubble splashes above your head, drenching you from head to toe

“vEry funny!” you scoff, trying to shake the water off yourself

taehyung gives you another one of his cheeky grins. ‘sorry,’ he mouths, but he does not look apologetic at all

‘but look! i can dry it!’

he waves his fingers at you and instantly, your sopping wet hair and clothes are dried. there’s even a ocean breeze smell that lingers on you now

“do you go around splashing people with water bubbles and drying them right after?” you accuse taehyung teasingly

he laughs boisterously, shrugging his shoulders. ‘mAybE’ is his answer

“you spend a lot of time on the surface, huh?”

taehyung shrugs. ‘maybe’

“not much of a fish dude?”

‘they’re creepy,’ taehyung answers

you howl with laughter. “and scary! like sharks, viperfish, hatchetfish… oh god,” you shiver. “i hate them. i can’t swim in the ocean. and i know most of the scary-looking ones don’t even live in the same ocean zone”

taehyung pokes at you. ‘scaredy-cat,’ he mouths

“am not!! how are you creeped out by fish when you’re half fish??”

taehyung scoffs. ‘my tail…’ he gestures majestically at his sparkling tail, ‘is not a fish tail’

“sure… fishboy”

taehyung raises his eyebrows and raises his hand as if to threaten to splash you with a water bubble again

“i was only joking”

taehyung laughs, poking at you then pointing to the waters. ‘wanna swim, though?’

“are you serious? i just told you i’m terrified!”

taehyung pouts, his pink lips pulling down into a sad frown

“that’s not gonna make me change my mind, tae”

‘just for a little bit!’ he protests

“i don’t even have my goggles, i can’t swim without them! and i’m not going in water that’s pitch black”

taehyung sighs. ‘fine!’

“i’m really good at swimming in the pool though,” you say. “i mean, they used to call me a mermaid. because i was really good at dolphin kicking. but then i watched a few underwater documentaries… and nope. never again. i am not going in the same waters that goblin sharks live in”

to your surprise, taehyung teasingly pokes your cheek. ‘cute,’ he mouths. ‘scaredy-cat,’ he adds

“show anyone a goblin shark and they wouldn’t be able to get in the water for a year!” you huff in response

‘never seen one,’ tae sings—if you could hear him, you imagine his voice would sound as soft as lavender with just a drizzle of rich honey

“doesn’t mean they don’t exist!” you argue. “maybe one day i’ll swim with you. but definitely not today”

technically, you just met the man—er, merman

you’re not so sure if you can trust him to console you of your great fear of the ocean

maybe once you get to know him a little better

you see

you’re very quick to make friends

you probably have a lot of acquaintances

they all know your name and you know theirs

but you probably could not name three facts about any of them. and they probably couldn’t think of three facts about you either

so yes, you tend to have shallow relationships with many

but if you find people you like, you cling to them

like yoongi and hoseok

you just hope taehyung won’t be one of your acquaintances

he better be one of your best friends

how cool is it to say your best friend is a merman????

very cool

‘cool’ is just not a word to describe you as yoongi often likes to point out

but you’ll show him

you visit taehyung every day

for seven days

it’s been a full week

finals is closer than ever

you have like… five days to get your art final done

and you still haven’t gotten an idea

yikes

okay well you have an excuse

actually, you have excuses. plural.

because 1) you’ve forced yourself to fOrget about finals and 2) taehyung is wAy more interesting than any final you will ever take in your life

besides, all the time you spend on the beach is absolutely worth it

you and taehyung sometimes even meet before night falls, just before the sun’s setting so the two of you can prank the seagulls

(tae hates those little monsters-with-wings so he enjoys it a whole lot to dump water bubbles on their heads)

you help him prank the stupid birds by giving him moral support! that includes cheering him on when he successfully attacks an unsuspecting seagull and feeding him some cookies from your school cafeteria to keep him well-nourished

taehyung loves human food

he says he has to live off of clams and seaweed

which, isn’t all that bad (you love salted seaweed chips and clams), but imagine having a diet solely composed of seafood

yuck

so you bake kale chips for tae one day (nearly burning down the communal kitchen) and he enjoys it so much, for five days, you bring all sorts of good human food for him

by the end of the week, taehyung’s put on some pounds

you think he looks even more adorable with a bit of meat on his bones

taehyung just complains that his abs are starting to disappear

so one day, you bring a yoga mat and the two of you do some ab exercises off of youtube

of course, that led taehyung down the youtube rabbit hole

and once down that rabbit hole, it is very hard to resurface

after tae got ahold of gordon ramsay’s youtube channel, it’s all he watches when you come to the beach

in the end, you have to ban him from youtube because he almost took your phone underwater when you tried to get him to stop drooling over gordon ramsay and his incredible cooking skills

but taehyung prefers talking to you over watching youtube

at least you think

you hope

there is never a day you meet taehyung and it isn’t eventful

there’s always something to do with the fun-loving merman!

which makes it very, very easy to lose sight of iMporTAnt things… like, uh finals

so, today, five days before your art final is due, yoongi sits you down on your desk chair and sighs. “have you figured out your art final yet?”

it is a question that catches you off guard

“er… no”

“iSn’t it due in FIVE days???” yoongi shakes his head disapprovingly at you. “c’mon, y/n, don’t some artists take over a week to finish a painting??”

“well i can take uh, three days without sleeping if it really comes to that”

yoongi sighs. “you’ve been going to the beach every day. still no inspiration?”

“err… i got… distracted”

“do you want me to come with you today or something? so i can whip you back into shape and make sure you get properly inspired?” yoongi offers

“no!” you shout

yoongi raises his eyebrows

“i mean, um, no thank you, yoongs,” you stand up and pat yoongi’s head

he scowls at you

“i’ve got it all figured out!” you tell him very convincingly

but it is a lie

“rEally?” yoongi raises his eyebrows at you

“yes. don’t you worry, my friend.” you pat his head again

yoongi rolls his eyes. “okay, well, worse comes to worst, you can always use my terrific idea”

“never in a million years”

“oh well. wanna skip the beach today? i’m inviting hoseok over to watch a movie. you can come too, if you want”

“no can do,” you say, shaking your head. “i’m going swimming!” you hang your swim goggles in front of yoongi’s face

“in the dark?? in the ocean?? i thought you were afraid of gobbler sharks!”

“goblin sharks. not gobbler. and no. not anymore. i trust the waters now”

er, or, you trust taehyung

he’s been trying to convince you every day to swim with him

and every day you declined or made up some stupid excuse

but today is the day you will accept

you even prepared by wearing a bathing suit under your clothes

and you’re gonna bring your swim goggles

you’re so ready!!

you trust that taehyung won’t let the fish get to you

he promised and swore on his own beautiful tail

so he can’t possibly be lying

“oOokAyyyy…” yoongi says, giving you a strange look. “if you drown, can i have your comforter?”

“oh, shut up. i’m not gonna drown”

“sure”

you huff. “whatever, yoongs. have fun watching that movie with hoseok. i’m gonna get going”

“i will. just don’t drown or something”

“i won’t”

five minutes later, you’re terrified you’re going to drown

as you walk across the beach, you worry that you’re only walking to your death

what if you actually drown???

and taehyung can’t save you because the water’s so dark, he can’t even see you???

what if a jellyfish comes out of nOwHerE and stings you so hard you’re gonna be paralyzed forever????????

EVEN WORSE

WHAT IF THERE’S A GOBLIN SHARK OUT OF ITS HABITAT

WHAT IF IT BITES YOUR LEGS OFF????

ohmygod

you think you might die

taehyung’s waiting for you on the rocky ledge as he always does

but today, he has a shit-eating grin on his face

he looks at your goggles and nods. ‘today’s the day!!’

you grumble. “this is not helping my stress”

taehyung cocks his head

“i’m stressed because of college, tae. lucky you. you wouldn’t understand”

the handsome merman snorts. ‘i wouldn’t’

he pokes at you as if to say, ‘tell me what’s wrong’

you sigh, plopping yourself down on the rock and looking down at your feet

“i have a really important painting i have to finish in five days…” you groan. “and my professor gave me an art prompt, you know, something i need to interpret and draw. but i can’t, for the life of me, figure out what i wanna paint”

‘hMmm,’ taehyung hums. ‘what’s the prompt?’ he mouths

“what calls to me”

‘what calls to you?’

“ugh. yeah. horribly vague, isn’t it? my friend suggested i draw my mother coming out of a phone”

taehyung cocks his head, curiously

“yeah, it’s stupid. so i’m stuck. and the final’s due in five days. but i was totally forgetting about it until yoongi decided to bring it up. and now i’m stressed”

the merman giggles

“this isn’t funny!!” you protest

but the merman giggles again

when you give him a disdainful look, taehyung dives into the ocean and pops his head out, waving at you to come in

you sigh, staring at your goggles. reluctantly, you put them on

once you strip down to your swimsuit, you stare hesitantly at the opaque ocean. you crouch down just before the water, contemplating and contemplating

suddenly, something grabs your arm and you’re tugged into the ocean

you sCreAm bloody murder and voila, now salt and fish feces water is up your noise

how wonderful

but two strong hands hold your waist and you’re able to resurface

the water’s cold, but not freezing cold at least. and taehyung’s actually really warm against your skin

“you fucking dragged me in!!!” you shriek after coughing the water out of your lungs

you hit tae’s bare chest in agitation

the little shit just shrugs and grins at you

you huff, wrapping your legs tightly around taehyung’s hips. “if you let me go, my friends are going to find you and roast you. literally”

taehyung chuckles. ‘i won’t let you go,’ he seems to tell you with a meaningful look on his face

“you better not!” you tell him

he laughs at you, softly touching your forehead with the back of his hand. instantly, you feel much, much warmer. even cozier in the supposedly freezing waters

even the water weighing down the hair on your head feels lighter. when you reach out to touch it, you realize it’s completely dry

“woah,” you breathe. “that’s so cool…”

you forget that you’re even supposed to be mad at the merman

taehyung grins at you, petting your hair. ‘i know, right?’ he seems to say with his twinkling eyes

he motions at you to take your goggles off

“what?? are you crazy? i can’t survive without these! i am not opening my eyes in salt water, tae”

the merman shakes his head, laughing. ‘it won’t sting your eyes’

“why? did you put a magical charm on me or something?”

taehyung shrugs. ‘mAyBe’

you sigh, skeptical

‘i’m trying to help,’ tae mouths. ‘it’s for your art final’

you raise your eyebrows doubtfully

‘i’m serious’

“why, is there something cool underwater?”

taehyung nods. ‘you need your eyes open’

you wrap your legs tighter around the merman. “so… you’re gonna show me… something underwater… that will help me with my art final??”

the merman nods enthusiastically

he ruffles your hair and pinches your cheek. ‘trust me’

ohhHHhhh if you didn’t trust him, you wouldn’t be clinging onto him for life right now

“promise you won’t let me go??”

‘promise’

you hold out your pinky for taehyung

he cocks his head. ‘what is that for?’

“pinky promise??”

‘hmm?’

oh man

that might just be a human thing

silly you

“oH uh, nEver mInd th—”

you try to retract your pinky but taehyung stops you

he slowly pulls up his own hand, his pinky jutting out awkwardly

‘like this?’ he questions, poking at your pinky with his

you have to stifle a laUgh

“um, not quite,” you say. “you have to wrap your pinky around mine. yeahh, like that. and then it’s a pinky promise! it’s practically illegal to break a pinky promise”

taehyung nods. ‘i won’t break it’

“okay good! uh…” you look warily at the dark waters. “what is it that you wanted to show me?”

taehyung grins. suddenly, you’re submerged underwater again and you let out a scream

but you can’t hear yourself

not because you’re choking on the water, no

it seems like… you can breathe????? UNDER THE WATER????

you hug taehyung tighter and try to scream at him to stop plunging you in the ocean without a warning

but no sound comes out of your lips

‘taehyung!” you shriek soundlessly

“open your eyes, y/n…” a deep, resonate voice tells you

you nearly gasp in shock

was that… was that taehyung’s voice? his speaking voice????????

“it’s okay… you’re protected under a charm,” his mellifluous tone soothes you. “you’re able to breathe underwater, y/n. but you won’t be able to speak.” he laughs, which sounds very familiar to your ears. “how the tables have turned!”

‘taehyung!!!’

“how good it feels to finally speak to you!!” taehyung laughs. “you don’t have to hold me in a vice grip anymore,” he snorts. “i won’t let you go. we pinky promised, remember?”

you groan in your head. ‘i-i can’t. i can’t do it, tae’

“aww, y/n…” you hear taehyung softly pet your hair. “take your time”

‘i can’t open my eyes. i-i’m sorry’

you can see the blackness through your eyelids. and there is no way in hell you’re going to open them

fine, you trust taehyung. and sure, the water may not sting your eyes

and on top of all that, you can fucking breathe underwater thanks to tae, but no

you’re still scared

you’re scared of what you’re gonna see

or what you won’t see because the ocean is probably pitch black

you just try to focus on taehyung’s beautiful, deep voice. it seems to reverberate through the ocean waves even after the sound hits your ears

“it’s okay,” he says. “don’t be sorry.” he holds you tighter against his bare chest. “you don’t have to see what i wanna show you anyway”

you make a confused grunt sound in the back of your throat

“you can hear it”

‘what???’

but of course taehyung can’t hear you. nor can he see you with your chin resting on his shoulder

“what calls to you, huh?” taehyung says in his syrupy voice. “i have a good idea”

then, to your utmost shock, he begins to sing

“where the sea breeze whispers

past your listening ears

and gently caresses your lips

there lies a great ocean

the waves undulate under the dark sky

under these waters

is a lonely merman

he longs, waits for a friend

a lover,

anyone who will save him

from his solitude

where the sea breeze whispers

where the great ocean lies

where the waves undulate under the dark sky

where the lonely merman waits

under these dark waters”

your insides melt

taehyung’s honey voice entrances you and you squeeze you eyes shut even tighter

a rush of inspiration washes over you

you shiver

oh god

you didn’t have to open your eyes after all

you don’t have to see it to feel the immense amount of emotion, love, sincerity interwoven to taehyung’s song

it’s the most beautiful music you’ve heard in your life

and it pains you that taehyung’s stopped singing

you’re speechless, pulling away from taehyung so he can read your lips. ‘that… that was so beautiful…’

“thanks,” taehyung chuckles deeply. “i sing that song a lot when i’m bored”

‘your voice…’

“i know. too bad i can only sing underwater, right? if i could do this on the surface, i’d serenade you all day every day”

‘i’ll come underwater with you,’ you mouth before you can stop yourself

then you pause

well

you suppose being underwater isn’t so bad

it’s just dark since your eyes are closed

but you’re warm in taehyung’s arms

and you can even breathe too

if you can hear taehyung’s voice and hear him sing, then surely, that is a tiny sacrifice you can make

“you’re gonna come underwater with me?? again??” taehyung seems in disbelief. “you already seem uncomfortable now!”

‘no i’m not!’

and to prove it, you force your eyes open

immediately, you’re so taken aback, your grip on taehyung loosens

the merman catches you before you slip away

‘o-oh…’ you breathe

the ocean is not as dark as you had imagined it

in fact, there is a halo-like light that surrounds taehyung

it illuminates his face, his hair, his whole body

he is like a walking—er, swimming—star

the light shines further out into the dark seas, making the water sparkle

‘oh…’ you breathe again

“nothing to be scared about right?” taehyung snorts. “scaredy-cat”

he bops you on the nose

you’re so in awe, you don’t even mind

“are you inspired now?”

oh!! right!! your art final!!

you were almost distracted again (even after taehyung just dangled the answer in front of your face!!)

RIGHT!

TAEHYUNG JUST HELPED YOU SOLVE YOUR ART FINAL FIASCO PROBLEM

YOU’RE SO INSPIRED YOU COULD PAINT FOURTEEN HUNDRED PAINTINGS RIGHT NOW

your fingers feel tingly

and your head whirls with ideas

taehyung’s voice, his song, his whole being…

it calls to you

omg

he just saved your ass

in one single song!!!

‘god, i’m so happy i could kiss you!’

and you’re not even joking

“kiss me??” taehyung seems taken aback, but he grins. “kiss?”

the way he seems curious about it, you’re not quite sure he even knows what that is

‘do you… do uh, merfolk kiss?’ you ask cautiously

taehyung smiles. “let’s find out”

his eyes sparkle as both of you begin to lean into each other

you take it slowly, admiring his alabaster skin, pink cheeks and rosy lips

he stares into your eyes and gently tucks your hair behind your ear

right before you move in to kiss his lips, he leans in to rest his forehead against yours

taehyung’s eyes flutter close and he sighs as you stay still in his arms, confused

but you decide to go with the flow, keeping your foreheads together as you close your eyes too

it’s an intimate moment

you, resting your forehead against his while under the same ocean you were once so scared of

you, feeling emotionally attached to a merman

you, dreaming of kissing taehyung. properly. you know, on the lips and whatnot

when taehyung finally pulls away, he grins

“wasn’t that a nice kiss?” he whispers, touching your cheeks and giggling just at the thought of it

yikes

how do you break it to him

that forehead touching is not really… the kissing you were thinking of

‘well…’ you giggle. ‘in the human world… um…’

“in the human world…?”

‘we kiss with our lips’

“oh!” taehyung exclaims. he scratches his head. “lips????”

‘like this!’

with that, you tug him into a kiss. a proper one this time

he melts in your arms, sighing as he leans forward and instinctively closes his eyes

you let yourself relax too

and god what the fuck

his lips feel so soft

is there a special ocean chapstick he uses???

does he use some special sand as a lip scrub??????

and even though he probably hasn’t kissed the human way before,,,

man he knows what he’s doing

it makes you think for a hot second

damn

you’re making out with a merman

… under the sea

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

this is what your life has become

and honestly, you can’t complain

taehyung’s the first to pull away, panting slowly. “i didn’t think my breath could ever be taken away,” he grins cheesily

‘you’re welcome,’ you grin back, slightly breathless yourself

“so… now that i’ve given you amazing inspiration… don’t you need to write it down somewhere?”

‘oh!’ you gasp. ‘right!’

you need to get started on painting as soon as possible!!! you can’t ever forget the feeling of taehyung… singing for you. but something about painting it when the memory’s fresh promises the best results

what calls to you…

you smile

a goddamn merman!!

literally

you’re so gonna ace this art final

you paint nonstop for four days

although you want to, you can’t even visit the beach

because you absolutely HATE it when your workflow is stopped

so you have to keep on painting until you finish

you force yoongi to go out on the beach and lay some cookies on your special rocky ledge. he frowns at your strange directions

“i dOn’T thInK yOu sHouLd fEeD tHe sEaGuLlS, y/N. iT’s gOnNa iNtErRuPt tHe eCoLoGicAl bAlaNce,” yoongi says very knowledgeably

oh god

you tell him to shut up

he pats your head and walks out toward the beach with the cookies

at least he doesn’t ask questions

you just hope taehyung takes the cookies as an apology

you don’t want him to think after you kissed him, you ditched him!! you’re just busy with your art final!!!

so you also make yoongi sneak in a note and a slice of cake the next time

except yoongi comes back in ten minutes and aSks: “WHO’S TAEHYUNG???”

you gulp

but you pretend you can’t hear yoongi as you continue painting on your canvas

the perfect, bright turquoise color was very hard to recreate with paints, but you somehow managed. you just need to add some finishing touches and your beautiful painting of your merman friend will be finished

you know yoongi secretly admires your art skills, but he laUghs when he sees you painting a merman

“is that a siren???”

“no—”

“a mermaid, then?”

“a merman,” you say. “and he’s singing the most beautiful song in the history of songs”

yoongi laughs. “sure, sure. looks nice, though.” he steps closer to the canvas. “really like what you did with his facial structure or whatever. and his hair color. pretty tail too. i did not know you had the capacity to imagine that hard”

you huff. well, technically… you didn’t imagine that. but you’re not going to admit it with yoongi

“i’m more talented than you think,” you snort, stretching back and picking at the paint dried to your fingers. “if i close my eyes, i can almost hear him sing to me”

“um, i think you fell in love with your own painting,” yoongi snorts

“oh, leave me alone”

yoongi raises up two hands in defense. “okay, well, the final’s due tomorrow, right? are you done?”

“well…” technically, yes. but… “i’m gonna go to the beach”

“wait a minute, with your painting??? dude, what if a seagull snatches it away? what if the paint chips? leave your painting! that’s your final”

“i’ll be careful!”

“your idea of careful is reckless”

you sigh. “well, i’ll be extra careful!”

yoongi can’t argue with you after that. 1) because he knows you’re stubborn and won’t give up and 2) because when you say you’re gonna be extra with anything, you go all out

you take nearly twenty minutes getting to the beach because you walk very slowly with your painting in both hands. you hold the painting above your head so sand won’t fly onto it

and you check out for those nasty seagulls because sometimes they decide to shit on people’s heads

if they decide it’s a good day to shit on your final, it’s over

nevertheless, you need to show your masterpiece to taehyung

when you get to the rocky ledge, you call for the merman

in just a few seconds, taehyung pops up his head from under the water

“were you waiting for me?” you laugh. “did you get the cookies and cake i sent?”

taehyung nods, grinning as he begins to swim toward you. he points curiously at the canvas in your hands

“it’s my art final,” you explain to him. you turn it around so taehyung can see it

he gasps

‘that’s me???’

“yup”

‘you didn’t draw my abs!!’

“well, can’t draw what you don’t have,” you giggle, teasing the pouting merman. he huffs

‘i like it, though’

“reallY??” you gush. “that’s all i wanted to hear!!”

you set the painting down carefully to the side and scoot closer to the rocky ledge

taehyung rests his hand on your forehead before cupping your cheek. he grins before cocking his eyebrows and pulling your head underwater

‘taehyung!!!’ you shriek

“i just wanted to tell you how beautifully you drew me,” taehyung laughs, booping your nose. “i mean, i’m much, much better looking in real life, but the colors. you’re very talented, y/n”

you smile. ‘well, i did try really har—”

taehyung interrupts you by kissing you. he misses your lips the first time and gets the corner of your mouth, but the second time, his lips meet yours perfectly

the heavenly moment would’ve lasted wayyy longer if it weren’t for the:

“Y/N, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STICKING YOUR HEAD IN THE WATER???”

you let out a silent shriek and taehyung’s eyes widen. both of you break apart from the kiss and taehyung suddenly dives deep down into the ocean

and right when the merman is out of your range, you can’t breathe nor see clearly in the ocean anymore

when you get your head out of the waters, you’re a choking, coughing mess

you wipe away the droplets of water streaming down your face before you look up to see yoongi

“are you bobbing for fish in the ocean?” yoongi snorts. “for fuck’s sake, y/n, you can’t just leave your art final around like this!”

your best friend picks up your precious painting of taehyung and sighs. “what were you doing?”

“i, uh…” you touch your lips. “i was… uh… i dropped my ring in the water”

yoongi narrows his eyes. “you don’t even wear jewelry”

“okay fine. i was just trying to meet the merman of my dreams underwater”

at that, yoongi raises his eyebrows. “cool,” he says

“cool??” is that all he had to say?

“well, yeah. mermaids are cool”

“merman”

“whatever”

yoongi’s so chill with it that you’re unchill

“are you sure??” you say.

“am i sure that it’s whatever?” yoongi snorts. “yes? c’mon, let’s go watch a ocean life documentary with hoseok or something. finals is gonna be over soon, so we should celebrate starting now”

hm

okay well

cool

this is chill then

yoongi is chill

you suspect he doesn’t believe you, even though you told him the truth

you could probably tell him that you kissed taehyung, a merman, but he would probably laugh it off

your best friend is quite strange. no-nonsense. sensible. rational.

but you love those things about him

yoongi helps you carry your art final back to the dorms. but just before you step off the rocky ledge, you turn around

taehyung’s waving at you very discreetly, so you smile and wave back

yoongi never notices a single thing

welp

it’s over now

finals is over

which means,,, IT’S BEACH TIME

unfortunately, everyone in the whole fucking school think’s it’s beach time too

even late at night, there are still a few idiots on the beach drinking the last of the beer they stashed away

it’s hard to meet taehyung just because the lack of privacy

you wait and wait and wait on the rocky ledge, but you know, with so many people, taehyung probably wouldn’t want to come out of hiding

it’s one thing for a merman to trust one girl

it’s another for a merman to trust fifty rowdy college students

but you have a feeling taehyung is always close by

you visit the rocky ledge every day, singing some of your own little songs (though you’re not a very good singer, you try)

you even talk to taehyung like he’s there, listening to you

but it starts to get lonely

there are so many people on the beach, but the one being you want isn’t here

you sigh, wiggling your toes that have become pruned due to the salty water. “i never thought i’d be saying this,” you say. “but i miss finals week”

taehyung would have laughed if he was with you now

god, you miss him

“or maybe you’re in the water right now, waiting for me to jump in…”

you sigh again. “or maybe you’ve migrated or something. do you even have to migrate? i have no idea…” you trail off, looking at the blue waters lapping at the sides of the rock

cautiously, you dip one foot in

the water’s cool, but not completely freezing

you dip the other foot in

okay

you can do this

you’ll just…

jump in

and if taehyung’s not underwater, you’ll just… leave for the day

you’re supposed to hang out at a computer cafe with yoongi and hoseok anyway

okay deep breath in

deep breath out

goblin sharks don’t even live near the shallow part of the ocean… right?????

so you’re safe, right????

unless there’s a lemon shark or something

oh fucking god

you shouldn’t have watched that ocean documentary with your friends

but the need to see taehyung surpasses everything

you close your eyes

pinch your nose with your fingers

and you JUMP

and immediately you gasp because fuck the water’s cold

lowkey, your heart nearly stops because of the sudden rush of cool water surrounding your whole body

and right when you think you should swim back to the surface, a pair of strong arms hold you, and a soft hand taps at your forehead

“hello, you”

‘TAEHYUNG!’ you open your eyes and see your favorite merman staring at you

“the beach is crowded these days, isn’t it?” he grins

‘i know! pesky people!’

taehyung laughs. “i made another song while you were gone. nice singing, by the way. i heard you a couple days ago”

you flush. ‘i can’t sing! but um, can i hear your new song?’

taehyung nods, clearing his throat

he holds your hands to his chest and begins to sing

“where the sea breeze whispers

past your waiting ears

and gently kisses your lips

there lies a beautiful ocean

the waves ripple beneath the awakened sky

under these waters

is a happy merman

he’s found his friend,

his lover,

his treasure that has saved him

from his solitude

where the sea breeze whispers

where the beautiful ocean rests

where the waters ripple beneath the awakened sky

where the happy merman lives

under these sparkling waters”

‘you changed the lyrics!!’

taehyung nods. “i think it’s much more fitting, don’t you think?”

the two of your resurface from the waters, gripping each other tightly

your hair is completely dry and it blows in the light breeze

the sunlight warms your face and turns taehyung’s cheeks even rosier

oh god

your heart skips a beat

but you try to calm down before you wrap your arms around taehyung’s neck and pull him close

the moment your forehead touches his, you close your eyes and it feels like there’s nothing else in the ocean, on the beach, except you and taehyung

the two of you may never speak out loud in the same place as you’re kept silent in the ocean and taehyung’s kept silent on land

but...

sometimes, you don’t even need words

gazes, actions, little touches here and there

they speak in louder volume than words

you don’t even have to say you love taehyung. he doesn’t have to say it either

it’s as if both of your hearts, your actions proved it

masterlist

[garthups]

the maze, part I

Part One of the story! Very excited to post this. -Leslie

I kept the car running in park while the shitty vents sputtered, trying my hands warm. Your Love by that band from the eighties was playing in the distance. I have a love-hate relationship with these roped off grassy parking lots, where there aren't actual spaces, just car anarchy. Take any spot you can find and let’s all hope that some semblance of a parking lot comes together. Sure there’s something inherently egalitarian about it, but they remind me of being scared to park when I was learning to drive. I was always positive that my Camry was too far over, and I’d brace myself for the crunch of metal on metal. 

The familiarity of coming to the maze made parking in the lot easier, and I didn’t have to reverse and drive into the same spot over and over again to be satisfied. My friends and I came to Hudler Farm every October for the autumn corn maze. Sometimes we’d take caramel apples in and chaunk through them while meandering.

 Fuck, that was always so fun. High school seems like a lifetime ago though. All it takes are a few hundred miles, and staggered midterms, and suddenly you talk to the guy in the dorm next to yours who gets drunk on natty seltzer more than the people who got you through your mcr phase.

 None of us got together last year, which was a bummer, but out of the blue Lottie messaged Sam and me. I watched the shadowy families walk by in the dark, my hands weren’t getting any warmer though. The idle LEDs were dim enough that I could see outside. A little boy running after his parents tripped and fell in the mud. I stifled a chuckle, because kids falling down is hilarious, and tried to screw with the vents, but they were already all open. Piece of shit car. When I looked up, the boy was still splayed out on the ground, shivering. Both his parents kept walking though. I scrunched my brow. I started fidgeting with my seatbelt, but my hands didn’t have much feeling in them. People were just walking around him, like he wasn’t there. 

“WHAT’S up dog!” My door exploded open.

“JESUS fucking god Lottie, I--” She took her spot in the passenger seat, laughing her ass off.

“Sorry sorry sorry, wow Phoebs I got you pretty good huh?”

“I mean yeah I’m just so ready to get killed in this parking lot. Hey I think that kid hurt himself out there pretty bad.” I breathed, still shaken.

“What kid?”

“That one.”

“Oh that one, sorry it’s dark, so it took me a sec. Yeah let’s go help.” Honestly, I could never stay mad at Lottie. Seeing her new dreads in person made me miss the big buns she wore in high school. We slammed the doors shut, and stepped onto the ground covered in too-damp leaves. Two guys beat us to him though, and they were helping him up.

“Oh wait, is that the kid you meant?”

“Lottie, why would I be talking about a kid that isn’t sprawled out on the ground.”

“I thought this one was playing snake or something. Anyway, let’s go meet Sam’s friend!”

We walked over to the boys, Sam’s friend was getting the kid back on his feet. Sam’s friend was a good head taller than he was, which wasn’t saying too much. The guy gave off an eagle scout vibe though, so his height was probably pretty important to him. Maybe camp counselor would have been closer. He was gently reassuring the kid.

“Feeling better? Okay, better go catch your folks, and make sure not to stay too far behind them, bud, okay?”

“Good call man, I thought he was just playing snake.” Sam glowed.

“Sup fuckers!” Lottie sang. The boy turned around, he looked about nine, so Lotties curse made him bust a grin. From the looks of it he scraped his cheek pretty bad. He dashed off. Sam’s friend laughed nervously since Lottie broke the unspoken rule of swearing in front of kids.

“Hey dudes! It’s so awesome to see you!” Sam laughed. “I told Matrix everything about you, so there’s no need to divulge any information to him. Don’t trust this guy with any more embarrassing stories about yourselves.” Matrix waved shyly, and I rolled my eyes.

“That’s cool. You know we called Sam “Shrimpy” all of sophomore year because his hair got all curly and he dyed it red?”

“Thanks Phoebe, that is something I like people to know about me.” Sam said while subconsciously making sure his hair was still a tight buzz cut. Matrix smiled a little.

“You must be Lottie?”

“It’s great to meet you! Lets get some apples.” 

The four of us were waved through by the teen collecting tickets. The entrance to the maze had a little banner raised up on two poles and a chair with an admissions person. Next to the entrance was a main pavilion with a tiny shop and some picnic tables out under the roof. Lots of families were congregating there, buying souvenirs and farm t-shirts. Thankfully this wasn’t one of the maze theme nights according to a big promotional calendar that outlined all the dates. Lottie groaned when she saw that they added alien night and we hadn’t bought tickets.

“Like what does that even mean though. Are there aliens in the maze? Do they scare us?” Sam said eyeing the kettle corn buckets.

“Yeah I mean, it’s probably just like zombie night and mermaid night where you just get like jumpscared by teens in costumes. Freakin aliens though! Imagine!”

“Uhh did you say they do a mermaid night here?” Matrix said.

“Dude I never told you about that! You’re looking at the three scariest volunteer mermaid teens that Hudler farms has ever known. We were unholy legends flopping after scared families.”

Sam and Lottie were wide eyed crowding around Matrix, telling him all about the glory days. Made me pity him, his bud probably had a whole different energy at college.

“They’re fucking with you! Why in god’s name would a corn maze have a mermaid night.” I finally shouted. Lottie pouted.

“Boooooo Phoebe! How dare you!” I wrapped my face up in my scarf to escape guilt. 

We all mostly ate our caramel apples under the pavilion just so we could give Matrix the rundown of the maze. The Hudler farm maze has these eight checkpoints which give you special tickets. 

“We don’t leave without all eight. Got it? Dee oh en tee. I don’t give a fuck if we die trying.” Lottie said through a mouth of caramel and nuts. It felt surreal having my friends here again. After all, the limited exposure I had to them was social media. I lived vicariously through the photos they posted of new friends.

There was a sign in the pavilion that gave us a rough idea of where all the checkpoints in the maze were. I resisted the urge to take a photo in order to preserve the challenge that the maze posed. Probably didn’t need it to beat our best time. I was the only one who hadn’t finished their apple for traditions sake. Hopefully the caramel wouldn’t freeze though.

“Ok so let's remember to hit that cluster of checkpoints in the northern corner first. We're gonna take a lot of rights and then keep going on that long stretch forward.” I strategized.

“I’ll eat that apple if you’re not going to Phoeb, you know I’m psyched that they got pink ladies this year instead of grannies smiths.” Begged Sam.

“I did a few youth group trips to corn mazes, so this isn’t my first rodeo guys don’t worry!” Matrix added.

“That’s cool.” Phoebe said straight faced. I wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Before I could respond, I saw it. I inhaled slowly as I took in the scene before us. The moon was thin and most of the lights were under the pavilion itself, but I felt like I should’ve noticed something so wrong before.

“Why is the all corn so fucking tall.” The question, er -- statement hung in the air for a few seconds while the maze came into view for everyone else. Corn stalks get surprisingly tall late in autumn, maybe like ten feet. This stuff though. It was like, way way way too tall. And not irregular. So, regular. The maze looked like it could have been a trimmed hedge. All the stalks stretched up and up, reaching out for the sky, each of them trying to escape from the ground. I suddenly was at a loss, something so ordinary was wrong in such an obvious way. Finally, Lottie broke our silence.

“Shit.” Great. I mean, she wasn’t wrong.

“That’s amazing. God is it this tall every year? That’s the tallest corn I’ve ever seen, must be 30 feet! Maybe more.” Finally Matrix had found something to be upbeat about.

“Ahh no man. It’s like normal usually. Lottie are you feeling alright? Do you want to take a sec before we head in.”

Matrix jumped in. “Nothing to be worried about. I’m sure it’s just like GMO’s or something. Gotta up the yield. They should seriously lead with that in the advertising though. Corn jungle! Towering Corn! Feast your eyes ladies and gentlemen on the worlds first corn metropolis!” He broke the spell on Lottie with his campy broadcaster voice. She joined in: “Keep your dame close as you delve into the mysterious corn caverns, where the CORN DRAGON DWELLS.”

Matrix Chuckled. “Well I don’t know about that. Hard to deliver on a corn dragon. But look I’m sure it’s fine, everyone else doesn’t seem to mind.” It was true, the usual fare of families and teen groups were venturing into the maze without concern. I watched the family from the parking lot get a safety flashlight from the teen working the entrance. I breathed in through my teeth.

“For a second I thought you actually made jokes, scooter. You’re right, it’s probably just a good year for tall corn. We can go.”

“Phoebster, you good?” Sam nudged me. It honestly took me a second longer than Lottie to take in all the explanations. It was such a weird thing to be off in such a significant way. Must have been some primal instinct of being afraid of the dark. The corn stalks were darker than the night sky around them; I tried to catch glimpses through the stalks but they blanketed out the stars. 

“Yeah sorry about that guys. I’ll remember more of the strategy once we’re in the maze. Let’s blow through this thing!” 

We went into the maze.

[lonelyheartsclubhaze]

We Sold Our Souls to Instagram

September 2020 // Chapter 2

“No, I’m not going to pick you up.” I shook my head, visibly and audibly annoyed. “You know damn well that I’m not getting behind the wheel. I’m hanging up, sorry.”

Converting potential energy into kinetic, the iPhone X left my hand, skimming across the wave-front of my bed. My hands ruffled through my hair as I inhaled then sighed, absentmindedly channelling the virtues of cellular respiration.

Tired of this perpetual bullshit, my fingers slithered across the Ikea desk before me, eventually detecting the apple of my bedroom’s Eden: a lychee ice Puff Bar. My fingers honed in on the device, ensnaring it, raising it to my lips. A deep breath saved me from the agony of sobriety, the nicotine buzz lasting a moment. Then, it was lost.

Six soft, knuckled knocks rapped at the bedroom door. “It’s unlocked,” I shouted.

A creak later, the door swung open, revealing Adam. There was nobody else in the house anyway. With a global pandemic at large and wildfires blazing on deep into September, neither Ajay nor Cam had seen Dwight House since March. Just Adam and me.

“Yo, we out,” he said, pulling a reusable, black cloth mask under his chin. “Can’t see shit outside but we still drinking, dawg.” Ah, the charming vernacular of a Korean-American friend from the elite suburbs of the East Bay.

“It’s good. What’re we feeling today?” I had actually enjoyed the past six months with Adam—it had been a good bonding experience. Despite his rough tone around me and the rest of the guys, Adam was quite versatile in social settings, weaving between upper-class gentility at investment banking info sessions and middle-aged rednecks at gun ranges. With classical Berkeley-liberal ideologies and Wall Street Journal-reading, center-right-leaning, finance friends, Adam defied social realities.

Adam shrugged. “Could go for some Chimay. I’m feeling classy.”

“Not a bad idea at all, my friend,” I said. It had been awhile since I’d had a good beer like Chimay, and I was getting sick of Coors Banquets. “On the other hand, your timing just might be—a bad idea, I mean. Air looks cancerous outside.” Marmalade light cast by the wildfires of a fuming Earth engulfed Northern California, held in suspense by cool, Pacific layers of atmosphere. It was like we were on planet Arrakis, from Dune, or trapped in the world of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust.

“The air low-key is cancerous. AQI is pushing 180’s right now,” said Adam, raising his eyebrows.

“Looks like an N95-kinda day. I’ve got a spare, you know,” I said, gesturing to a pile of three or so N95 masks by the lamp on my desk.

Adam waved it off. “Eh, I’m good. That’s some puss shit. Let’s just run over to Crafts and Grapes or some shit, shouldn’t take long.”

I shrugged. “So be it.”

Tossing on a pair of five-and-a-half inch inseam Lululemon shorts, I joined Adam as he hopped downstairs.

“Got keys?” he asked once we reached the door.

“Yer, we out,” I said, shaking my keys out from my shorts’ pocket to lock the front door.

“Fuck,” griped Adam. “It’s actually hot as shit out here.” Smoky, red air obscured him from sight as he craned his neck to see me.

“Hence the shorts.”

Adam squinted his eyes, pursed his lips, and jutted his head back and forth, mocking me. “For sure. Forgot your MCAT-lovin’-ass could predict the future. But really though—it’s the middle of September, dude. This shit is wrong. It’s hot as balls and California is on fire and the sky is red and fools are straight-up dying off this COVID shit.”

“And you’re still an idiot,” I said, flashing a cheeky smile.

“Are you qualified to diagnose me as an idiot?”

“Maddie would say so.”

“Hence the pet names.”

“Precisely.”

“We gotta do something about this, bruh. This shit pains me to see,” declared Adam.

“Let’s start by drinking these brews. We’ll recycle the bottles after.”

We walked east on Dwight toward Telegraph, dodging cars as we skipped across the one way street. Adam was quieter than usual, for the most part, looking up from his iPhone 11 Pro Max periodically to comment on something he’d read in the news, or the glum weather. He wore a khaki short sleeve button-up, Kapital raw denim jeans with smiley face patchwork on the back left pocket, and a pair of slip-on Nike Janoski sneakers. The jeans were nice—quite expensive, from the looks of it—but looked baggy on him. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, all of his clothes  wore a bit loose on him, akin to a fiery adolescent who’d picked out hand-me-downs from an older sibling. Who that older sibling might’ve been, I’d never know—with his unwavering demeanor, Adam always seemed like the eldest in the room.

Banking right onto Telegraph, we bore the full brunt of the veiled sun, which, though hidden behind dense clouds of smoke, now revealed its penetrating UV rays. We ducked under corrugated foam polycarbonate sheets, which lined the rooftops of mom-and-pop Telegraph shops, fending off the sun’s cancerous radiation. The insanity of the world mingled with the smoky, copper air, making me delirious. I imagined I was Mel Gibson or Tom Hardy in Mad Max, feigning off flashbacks in the Wasteland. At the corner of Telegraph and Blake street, Adam pushed and held open the door to Crafts and Grapes. Nodding my head at him in small thanks, I entered, squinting my eyes as the light shifted from hazy red to bright white inside. It was a tiny store, with two aisles directly ahead lined with candy, nuts, and other inconsequential (unless you ate too many) snacks, followed by two refrigerators: one in the back, the other on the far right. Cool, wispy air emanated from the cold storage, contrasting with the late summer atmosphere only meters behind us. A bell rang as the door squeaked to a halt, prompting the middle-eastern cashier, directly to our right, to rise from his stool and greet us. We nodded back silently, all three of us clad in masks.

Per usual, Adam took the lead, striding toward the fridge directly back. He popped open one of the see-through doors with his left hand, mapping his way through its items with his right pointer finger. Finding my eyes, Adam shook his head, indicating a lack of Chimay.

“Blue moons?” I suggested. “Mango wheats?”

Adam screwed up his face. “Fuck that. Let’s go with Lags.”

“Sure, why not.”

Adam kneeled and looped his hand through the cardboard handle of a Lagunitas StereoHopic IPA six-pack. We walked over to the register where Adam made small talk with the cashier. Eventually, he tapped his iPhone 11 to an Ingenico payment terminal, finalizing our transaction. Drinks acquired.

The bell jingled as the door shut behind us once more. We hurried home, eager to crack open our drinks, intent on droning out the blistered yonder. Adam tried to explain his enthusiasm for hoppy beers while I pretended to listen. He was distracting me, though; we both knew I couldn’t care less.

Arriving home, my keys found their way to the door, and we found our ways to the couch. A tenor beep resounded through our living room as Adam’s iPhone connected to an old speaker via bluetooth. “Street Lights” by Kanye West filled the air, followed by carbon dioxide bubbles freed by an unlikely liberator—the bottle opener.

Let me know

Do I still got time to grow?

Things ain’t always set in stone

That be known let me know

I found myself back in the hand-me-down BMW 330i, with her, the white wire packed into the lightning port of my iPhone, transmitting cosine waves that replicated the robotic voice I was listening to in my living room.

“Stop!” she cried, thrusting herself back against beige, leather seats. She wanted me to press the brakes. I had to stop the car, right, stop the car. Where were the brakes?

She was beautiful, of course.

Dark, brown hair fell over eyes of the same color, guarded by double-lids that I wish she hadn’t paid for.

Hardly anyone would notice the difference, but I did, and it hurt to know that she didn’t love them.

I loved them, unconditionally, but she loved the brakes.

Needed to find them.

We’d shared a large bowl of Marafuku’s acclaimed Hakata Tonkotsu DX ramen. I’d let her eat most of it, sneaking my chopsticks in for bites at intervals.

“Pennsylvania?” I shook my head.

“What, you’ve never been?” She tilted hers. “You’ll love it. Come with me.”

“You’re crazy,” I said, smiling. “My MCAT summer is coming up.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll help you study for it. Duh.”

“I’m sure Brandon would love that.”

“Will he? All the way from San Francisco?”

“He’ll make the trip.”

“Not if you do,” she said, melting my mind.

I was dizzy, sleepy, lost, a newborn. Vulnerable. And I couldn’t seem to find them.

I’m just not there in the streets

I’m just not there

Life’s just not fair

Life’s just not fair

Sonorant chimes reverberated in my ears as Adam clinked his glass bottle to mine. “Cheers,” he said with a nod.

“Cheers,” I echoed. Leaning my head back, I swallowed, allowing the cool liquid down my esophagus and into my gut.

“You good?” he prodded.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice cracking a little. I cleared my throat.

“Pretty hoppy, huh?”

I took another sip, licking my lips after. “Quite. I suppose we knew what we were getting ourselves into. You know, given the ‘StereoHopic’.”

“You right.”

“Yeah.”

“Yo,” said Adam. “On another note—might be going in on an addy deal with Grace if you’re tryna hop in.”

I scratched my head. While I wouldn’t have any major exams in the near future (although midterms for my biochem course [MCB 102, for my fellow pre-med students at Cal] were slated for October sixteenth), I certainly had errands that might be eased by a twenty milligram dose of extended-release Adderall. There’s nothing like a thorough room-cleaning session when you’re high on stimulant drugs.

The first time I ever tried Adderall must’ve been during my freshman year, back in 2017. Midterm season was approaching—come to think of it, that was around this time that year—and our generous friend, Grace, was kind enough to grant me a ten milligram pill of instant-release Adderall. Grace and I, along with Adam and perhaps Ajay, too, were partaking in a midnight study session at Moffitt Library, which was open twenty-four-seven—prior to the pandemic. I popped the pill, chased it down with a Javiva drink from Peet’s, and got to work.

Twenty minutes later I began to feel its effects as the amphetamine altered monoamines in my brain, releasing surplus dopamine into my many synaptic clefts. Optimism filled me to the brim and my vision bent inward. I saw nothing but the iPad in front of me, my mind enamored by golgi apparatuses and various protein structures. The stimulant saturated me with a profound appreciation for all thoughts that meandered into my head; a giddiness originated in my heart, spreading down my arms, my legs, and outward across my skull, contracting then expanding once more. It was artificial love.

Eventually, I was distracted. Grace’s dilated pupils stared into mine as she chattered away  about Lin-Manuel Mir-something and a hurricane in Puerto Rico. After a second or two, my attention snapped away from cell membranes, landing instead on her words. The words of a girl from Colorado with a soft spot for the snow. I’d met Grace via Adam during Orientation Week and she’d quickly become one of my favorite people.

Gingerbread specks stippled her face like a George Seurat painting, fractal constellations arising as my eyes outlined her cheekbones. Gaps between long, chocolate locks revealed sepia collarbones, lined with descendants of the freckles on her face. A white Nike Alex Morgan soccer jersey overlaid the loose sweatpants that hung from her hips, held up by drawstrings I almost hoped would fail, concealing proportions that emulated golden ratios. Stained, white, laceless Vans hugged unpainted toes that tapped together when she spoke. Lips that scorned the artificially enlarged mouths of Instagram influencers communicated messages I was only barely beginning to listen to. She was the love interest of a nineties’ coming-of-age motion picture. But she wasn’t mine.

You know, I thought Adam might’ve loved her, but it was hard to tell when he was cycling through hookups with three different girls at a time. Come to think of it, I didn’t know if Adam loved anyone. A talker, yes; a charmer, certainly; but a romantic, I really didn’t think so.

He spent a lot of his time with her, no doubt. And she cared for him—anyone could see it. But she knew as well as I did that his head wasn’t in it. He wasn’t looking for love. He wanted to graduate, make money—to be someone. Sex seemed like nothing more than a physical need to him. I don’t think anyone would’ve described Adam as an emotionally vulnerable guy, and I don’t think anyone thought that emotion was what he kept those girls around for.

But at the same time, anyone could’ve seen what I saw in the way he bounced when she was around. Anyone could’ve heard the way he spoke about her. She meant something to him. But when you asked him about it, he’d brush it off; she wasn’t his type, or he had commitment issues (jokingly—but hey, grain of truth in everything).

Maybe she was his distraction from ambition—his distraction from latex-wrapped, emotionally removed nights and Wall Street Journal mornings, just as she was my distraction from cell structures.

For a good hour-and-a-half, Grace entertained me with conversation regarding natural disasters across the West; Broadway musical comparisons between Hamilton and Sunday in the Park with George; and the latest updates on Cal’s women’s soccer team, of which she was a huge fan. The Adderall certainly kept me focused, although not necessarily on my coursework.

“Let me know,” said Adam, tipping the bottle into the corner of his mouth. “I’m boutta text her back.”

I looked up from my lap at Adam. Right, I thought. “Sure, I could be down. Why not. Think you can pick me up two? I have some errands to run.”

“Twenty milligram XR work?” he asked as he tapped along the screen of his iPhone.

“That’ll do.”

The room went quiet for twenty to twenty five seconds as I was confirmed as an accomplice in the drug deal.

“What’s she been up to?” I asked.

“Hm?” he noised, raising his eyebrows without looking up.

“Grace,” I said. “Haven’t seen her much.”

He shrugged. “Not much, I guess. Drinking a solid amount though, from what I’ve seen.”

“Makes three of us.”

“Yeah,” he said, feigning a smile. “What about yours?”

“Maddie?”

“Yeah.”

I took a deep breath—inhaling, holding to the count of four, exhaling. “Not much of a difference, to be honest.”

“It’s not her fault, you know.”

“I know,” I breathed.

“Then talk to her.”

“It’s not like that,” I mumbled.

Adam paused.

I stared at my feet. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

He squinted. “The fuck you sorry for?”

“You know.”

He waved his hand aside, brushing it off. “I’m not tripping. Talk to her. Before I do it myself.”

I forced a smile. “Maybe it’s better off that way.”

“Here,” he said, handing me a two-foot-tall bong and lighter from under the coffee table. “Take it.”

Couldn’t stay away. My fingers gripped the paraphernalia as he withdrew. My heart quickened as the impending drug interaction approached. When it reached my lips, I lit, then inhaled, holding to the count of four, and then some. Blurry feelings rushed my mind as states of sufferance gave way to sedated nebulas, teaching me forgetfulness.

[sevdrag]

Dude, I’ll Just Wear Sunglasses (3/?)

Parts 1 and 2 are linked here

Eventually the fucking trunk vampire decides to take a nap. Bucky knows vamps do something kind of like sleep during the day, when the sun is high, but this guy is either a great faker or absolutely exhausted. Bucky’s hearing can pick up his low breathing, and the lack of any other sound means he’s motionless.

This guy. Man.

Bucky sits down in the driver’s seat and opens up Love Nikki on his phone, which he plays mainly to be better at it than Steve, who genuinely enjoys it. He isn’t in the mood but he needs something to distract himself for a while, so he goes through the daily battles and clears the current event. Fucking Momo.

He can’t stop thinking about Stevie.

Thing is, Steve Rogers is really a primary candidate for the Bite. He’s chronically ill with things that being a were could fix, he’s a decent guy who won’t go nuts with it, and he already knows about the supernatural community. Every time Steve ends up in the hospital he just gives Bucky these looks, and, well, fuck Steve.

The other thing is, Bucky knows that if Steve wants the Bite, he’s gonna want it to be Bucky. And Bucky just. He can’t.

He should, because if some other fucker comes in and Bites Steve, Bucky’s gonna tear his ass to shreds and make him wish he’d never been born. But he can’t - he doesn’t want to do that to Steve. It’s a lot of pain, for a long time, and it - being a werewolf really isn’t all sunshine and rainbows either.

And they’ve had this discussion over and over, and now Steve just gives him these looks from his hospital bed, and Bucky’s so fucking pissed.

He eats another bagel and contemplates what the fuck is even going on.

—-

Bucky wakes from a light doze to hear a banging noise coming from the trunk. It seems to be Morse code, so he listens for a bit, until he spells out N-E-V-E-R-G-O-N-N-A-G-I- and snorts.

“Did you just attempt to Rickroll me?” He asks, once he’s approached the trunk.

“No,” Clint says, “I successfully Rickrolled you. Sun’s down. Lemme out.”

Bucky glances around. There’s still a lot of light, but he knows vamps can always feel the position of the sun in their blood. Just like he can always tell the phase of the moon, when it’ll peek over the horizon and start to pull at him, whether it’s a quarter-waning or gibbous-waxing - vamps know the instant the sun rises and sets on them. Then again, Clint is like the worst vampire he’s ever met.

“Why don’t you give it an extra five minutes for safety,” Bucky says.

“Aww,” Clint replies, “you do care. But I’m really fucking sick of this trunk and I’d like to stretch my legs.”

Bucky purses his lips, but he’d probably be pretty cranky from being locked in a car all day, so he simply takes the keys and unlocks the hood, letting it pop.

“Ugh,” Clint’s voice says, deeper and raspier now that the trunk’s open, “Gimme a hand, man.”

Bucky lifts the trunk and reaches out, and —

Holy shit.

Natalia didn’t tell him that her trunk vampire was devastatingly hot.

Bucky knows the vamp virus kind of molds their bodies to a point of peak physical condition. He also knows that the vamps play mind games, seductive and sly, and that they can put a whammy on you until you think they’re the sexiest thing in the world. He also knows Natalia’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, which means any vampire in her seethe would be equally attractive, but —

But damn.

Clint Barton is tall and built. He isn’t even dressed up - a vampire in a fuckin’ t-shirt and jeans that have holes in them, no sense of self-preservation - but the shirt is pulled tight across broad shoulders and biceps, and the jeans are hanging low enough that when Clint stretches, Bucky’s wolf side kicks in and all he wants to do is lick at that narrow strip of skin.

And his face, Jesus. Clint’s grinning at him, blond hair a mess of spikes and dark green-blue eyes and Bucky’s pretty sure there’s no whammy here, he’s just fucked.

“Finally,” Clint says, extending a hand. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a while, man, I don’t know why Tasha kept you so secret.”

Bucky shakes his hand and wonders whether it’s too late to ask Nat to kill him.

“Anyway, thanks,” Clint says, rubbing at the back of his neck, adorably embarrassed. “Look, can I get you dinner? Least I can do for making you wait all day.”

“Is that how you settle a debt?” Bucky asks, genuinely curious, and Clint grins at him again, all stupidly handsome.

“Nah, not for that, just as - as a thank you.” He shrugs. “Tasha’s big on debts, she’ll figure something out, but I like to remember my manners occasionally.”

“You don’t eat,” Bucky points out, as if Clint might have forgotten. “It’s cool, I’ll find something.”

“I love burgers,” Clint says, and he grabs Bucky’s arm. “Come on.”

[convertidophoto]

A First foray in Space...

I’ve been thinking a lot about space lately.  No, not stars, blood moons, or black holes and the like but space as in venues, as in the common areas open to all.  The space where you, I, and others meet to interact. Yeah, that kind of space.  It seems to me that in some instances we are using it all wrong.  Perhaps you agree, perhaps you think I think too much, or perhaps you think I am thinking about something that requires no thought at all.  Well…as it happens at the gig Friday night someone brought up this very topic.  They asked me if I went to see (insert metallic HC band name here) at “the Post” the other night.  He said that it was one of the most violent shows he ever saw; dudes (yes nearly all men) were laying waste to each other while the band played. Oh, how the stars align.

 I am not sure where the kung fu dancing style at HC shows first appeared.  The acquisition of this fact is of little importance to me and I think I’ll live without that curiosity being satisfied.  What does concern me is what it portends for what I thought was a foundational principle of punk/hc/whatever-you-wanna-call-it (this thing we all do).  That principle being that a punk/hc show was our show and our space; it belonged to no one person or group; instead belonged to everyone who attended the show. The swinging arms, flying kicks, reckless thrown elbows, destroy utterly this idea by creating malicious enclaves [barriers] between the band and the audience.  I know, I know, I don’t get it, I’m old, I’m weak, or maybe it is that my kung fu just isn’t up to snuff, or maybe…just maybe, bear with me…cuz it might pain you to imagine such things…I’m right.  

Here’s the scene, you’re at the show really excited to see the bands.  Maybe you’ve heard the band, seen them before, or your ‘bro’ hipped you to them and you’re there to check ‘em out.  The band takes the stage, turns on their rigs, gives you cannibal come vegan snarl before launching into the sickest riff you’ve heard since that Slayer riff that sounds oh-so-close to what you’re digging now was released…then it happens.

Out of the darkness, you see what looks like a self-defense demonstration.  Fists and elbows fly without hesitation, that dude in the short-shorts is swinging his leg around with such speed that you are sure he’s part windmill.  Other participants tuck up and throw hands and mule kicks at imaginary attackers besetting them from all sides. Before you know it, the entire crowd has fled from the stage.  Cramming themselves into every inch of the periphery with arms held high to protect their faces from the mayhem.  The crowd forgets about Constipated Cookie Monster and the Beatdown Five providing the jams and who are pounding the stage like silverback gorillas in need of anger management.   When you finally feel comfortable enough to focus on the band you realize that the majority of the space for the crowd is monopolized by a dozen or so “dancers” and the remainder of the crowd is forced far from the band.  Mood killed and the show that you wanted to see so badly is now a bad memory which you wish never to repeat.

To many this sounds like an awesome time and mores the pity a typical show.  To others, myself included, this sounds absolute shit.  Whether or not the band is good or bad, is worth seeing again, or any other information gleamed from watching a band has been supplanted by the inevitable question, is staying in this room to see this band worth losing my teeth or getting knocked the fudge-out?  Those questions are nothing new and have been asked since the first guy staged dove (stage-dived? Oh, where are my punk rock grammarians at?) into the crowd.  What makes a substantive difference to me is the way in which space is used.

Punk/hc is visceral form of expression that in many cases lacks, utterly, any sense of subtlety.  As the form evolved from the late 1970s UK punk and The Ramones style retro-rock into 80s USHC the reaction to the music changed as well.  This is not unexpected as the inherit urgency of HC drives people to move without regard for themselves or others.  This trend continued with the expansion and popularization of HC.  The advent of crossover only worked to increase the ways in which the music elicited reactions in its expanding audience.  Pogoing was replaced by slam dancing and stage diving which became (?) moshing [whatever the hell that is anyway?!?!] by the late 80s.  Some bands eschewed the physical aspects of punk/hc and issued a challenge to their audiences (Fugazi) while others tired of violence that occasioned their shows and moved towards other audiences (7Seconds).  These changes coupled with the inevitable ending HC of other bands, the sound people wanted/loved/expected/demanded was hard to find.

Out of this vacuum came the explosion of late 80s HC bands, mostly SxE, who wanted to revert back to the pre-crossover style of HC and all that came with it.  At the same time, those people moved by the crossover thing kept progressing trying to make heavier and more ‘heavy and powerful’ records.  Then one day it happened, someone somewhere created the riff that played with just the right drumbeat moved people to stomp around then someone started swing their arms or legs and voila you have whatever-fudge kind of dancing they call it.  It may never have been equated before but punk/hc shows are a lot like real estate, location matters.  

The closer to the stage one can get at a show the better says I. Being able to see, to hear, and to feel (yes, we talking about feelings) the music is the purest way to enjoy any performance.  Plus up the front by the stage packed side by side with all the others wanting the experience, can create a collective sense of shared experience that remains bigger than any single show.  The shared sense of release, of elation, and of expression between the band and the crowd is strongest nearest the band.  The farther you move from the stage the less effect the band has on the room.

Not everyone wants to be up front smashed together being sweated upon, spat upon, spilled upon, jumped on, knocked around, and generally battered about while interacting with others also trying to enjoy the performance in its purest form.  Some people are not terribly interested in the bands performance; they are just there to dance, to slam, to mosh, or whatever the hell you call it.  The band is nothing but a soundtrack to release. Don’t get me wrong, to each their own…it’s not my thing (anymore) but I can see the necessity of just exorcising all the pent up emotions, piques, frustrations, and energies that punctuate life. Have at it y’all and ‘¡fuck it up __(insert name of city/state/scene here)___ style!’  All the young punks love a bit of that as the saying goes…

Behind the sing-a-long crowd and the dancing fools is the people who want to see the band, experience the music but would really prefer to be knocked around by kids who do not share the same fears about health insurance deductibles or the fragility of “old bones”.  In the back, there a bit more talking, visiting, seeing that person they’ve not seen since the last time (insert band here) played, also beverages flow freely and are consumed more responsibly (suggesting fewer spills not less liver damage).  Frankly, if one wants to be honest it is probably these people that bought tickets in advance and upon whose beer sales the venues counts to make a profit from the show. [drink up y’all!!]

I know, I know this a very general example and crowds are rarely described this easily.  The point I am trying to make remains apparent though.  The collective space of the show, the venue, is divided up amongst the crowd and inside the finite area the space is shared.  Everyone has their space to react and to interact with the band and everyone else in attendance.  If you want to be right on the stage as close as possible to be splashed with beer, sweat, and be spat upon by the guitarist from Night Birds or accidentally smacked upside the head by the singer of Scream or bass player of Econochrist (true stories y’all…for reals) then have it.  If, however, that is not your thing and you just want to go nuts dancing then back it up a few feet and go off.  Of course, if none of this appeals to you and all you really want to do is see that band that does it for you then you’ll likely be nearer the back.  Sharing is caring y’all, it isn’t always pretty or fair but it making use of a public space for mutual benefit.  In stark contrast to the above sits any live video of a beatdown/metalcore type band.  

YouTube is replete with videos where huge swaths of space are devoted to a dozen or so people engaged in what appears to be a synchronized martial arts demonstration or an attack by a swarm of invisible bees.  What is readily apparent at these shows is how the few “dancers” have pushed the rest of the crowd to the periphery of the venue.  There are few to no people at the stage experiencing the show.  All those people not “dancing” are trying to balance between watching the band and watching the dancers; undoubtedly they are doing so out of self-defense and for the inevitable train wreck that is foot to head or hand to head contact.  

In this exercise I see only one group telling another ‘this is how you will use this space, disagree at your own peril’.  Admittedly, I highly doubt any such an utterance emerged from the mouth or mind of any participant.  It never had to, the effect is the same.  What was once ours is now theirs and that isn’t cool.    

Slow your roll young blood…I’m not saying I know what punk is (can anyone really?) and I’m not saying anything negative about any individual, group, band, scene, etc. though clearly I am having a bit of a laugh at your silly asses.  What I’m saying is that what is happening with the use of space at some shows is self-defeating, selfish, and in the long-run a dead end for expression.  

Let’s really drive this point home shall we…no ambiguity, no mincing words, nothing left to chance or lost in translation…Lest you think I am picking on other forms of expression (personal or musical), or annoyingly kvetching about a style of music I don’t like (I’m not), let me be clear…I am only noting that the way in which the public space is used at one type of show occasioned by this style of dancing is not about shared use.  The way in which one small group dominates that space open to all appears to me to be antithetical to all that I believed punk was to be which was a liberating movement and a leveling force opening up avenues of expression to those previously shut out of venues for creative expression.  

QED vatos!

[tearlessrain]

so this turned into Scorpion King: Book of Souls Liveblog Part 1, because I got started late. witness a bunch of people trying to make one man’s considerable hotness singlehandedly carry an entire hour and a half long movie with very limited success under the cut.

I do want to state right up front that there’s only one reason I’m watching this and that reason is that for some reason zach mcgowan is the protagonist, so I’m not really up to date on the whole mummy/scorpion king franchise, the last one I saw was the one with all the jackal dudes and that was a while ago. so I have no idea what’s going on.

oh good they’re just going to town with the exposition, very thoughtful

so if the sword was forged in the fires of hell by anubis then who the heck did they fight when they were taking on the jackal headed dudes because I kinda assumed

are these two series actually related or

holy shit this is so Extra already look at this shit

y’all this is my jam I am living right now

also as people following my art blog may note, I am a huge fan of black and gold aesthetics. this movie is really just ticking off all my boxes right off the bat, it’s terrible, but five stars.

they’re REALLY going to town with the exposition

sword forged in the fires of hell that condemns souls to “the neverending darkness” and must be somehow destroyed... are we talking about anubis or sauron here.

this is just lord of the rings, but bad and with a sword. lord of the sword.

okay prologue is over and some dudes have smashed their way into a tomb. if the last however many mummy movies have taught me anything it’s that this might potentially be a bad idea

I love how they’re just not even setting up any of the characters we’re just diving right in I’m getting strong “yeah you all know the drill by now” vibes here

#squadgoals

really though the gal on the left is pretty badass, she hasn’t done or said a single thing but I respect her and her bootleg Xena vibe

and like shoutout for putting at least one actual black guy in egypt I guess

so I guess the one in the middle is... psychic or something? not that “hey if you plunder this blatantly cursed tomb it might be bad” requires psychic powers to know but

I mean that giant black sarcophagus they found recently in real life turned out fine I’m sure this will be great go nuts dude

uh oh it’s the fang of sauron anubis

oh that doesn’t seem good, but it’s actually the better option since for a second there I thought there were pulling a “black guy dies first” in ancient goddamn egypt

wait we’re still doing exposition okay the narrator is back. hi narrator I missed you.

look  I know it’s campy and all but can we take a sec to unironically appreciate how wicked COOL this guy looks with his glowing eyes and crap. this movie is just so satisfying to look at, every single shot has been peak aesthetic

“SEND THE BIRD” and then it’s actually just a regular bird that was anticlimactic

HOLY GREENSCREEN BATMAN

holy FUCK WE’RE ONLY JUST NOW AT THE TITLE SEQUENCE WHAT

okay I guess now we’re going to ACTUALLY start the movie, third time’s a charm

and we’re off to a fantastic start my friends

and judging by the choices of the cameraman in this scene I can tell they’re trying desperately to distract me from the fact that the dialogue sounds like it was generated by a neural network that was fed several dozen mediocre fantasy novels.

it’s working.

I am being personally attacked. god.

oh no some people on horses are coming I assume from the background music that this is a bad thing

OH it’s bootleg Xena and her merry band of deeply mediocre extras okay

I understand the adorable small child’s father must die but must it be at the hands of the worst mediocre extra. seriously he’s been on screen for five seconds and I already hate him.

I guess the protagonist’s name is Matthias, other writers might have let us know that when he was introduced, but these guys know damn well that it literally does not matter what his name is. they could have had her ride up and be like “we’re looking for a man named Jebediah Switchboard McDougal” and anyone who’s voluntarily watching this movie in the first place would just be like “that’s fair”

yeah just in case you weren’t sold after the blacksmithing or the hunting scenes, let’s have him just singlehandedly take down half a dozen ninjas in less than a minute. just fuck me up

oh shit they shot him

oh shit they shot him again

they’re just boromir-ing the hell out of this dude

and yet he’s still going to town on those ninjas

NO NOT THE ADORABLE CHILD WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS

I’ve decided I don’t like bootleg Xena after all

it’s a good thing he’s got three arrows embedded in his torso because that is the worst cage ever. it’s made of like. bamboo and string. have you seen this man’s arms how did they expect that to effectively contain him.

whoa it’s... BOOTLEG XENA 2.0: GOOD GUY EDITION

or not. she didn’t free him or anything she just killed his original captors and then took off with the cage with him in it

no I think she is good she’s... healing him? by... getting scorpions to sting the hell out of him? has the FDA approved this.

I’m sorry I can’t take this scene seriously the background music is way too close to the “ooga chakas” from hooked on a feeling. also the sheer degree to which they’re pulling a reverse male gaze here is kinda overshooting sexy straight into unintentionally funny. I mean I know this is the entire reason I’m watching this insanity but like even I think this is excessive.

“the scorpion king escaped” that is giving him way too much credit he was stolen by the superior bootleg Xena.

and in case NONE of the previous things drew your attention away from the lack of a plot, here’s just straight up nudity because why not.

I thought I had a thing for zach mcgowan but I’ve got nothing on this cameraman.

also there’s some kind of “reluctant chosen one king” thing going on I guess but like they literally couldn’t have put less effort into it

I haven’t heard people this concerned about what the moon is doing since I left evergreen state college

aaand apparently he can see and speak to... ghosts now? ghosts that spit thousands of arrows from the sky? know what why not I’ll accept literally anything at this point.

oh they aren’t ghosts they’re just really sneaky dudes

it’s a shame jebediah switchboard’s one and only weakness is extremely shitty cages because he sure ends up in them a lot

hmmmm we’re getting some uncomfortable racist undertones and misogyny in one go okay. not worse than I would expect from a movie of this.... caliber, but I’m not thrilled, especially since this whole situation has yet to have a single actual point to it.

actually okay it’s veered quickly away from “rudyard kipling-esque Vague Native Tribe Encounter” and into... some kind of weird mad max thing mixed with a D&D campaign that’s gone wildly off the rails. but they’re on thin fucking ice.

I really appreciate that matthias is approaching this situation with exactly the same strategy with which I play skyrim, which is “sneak up on everybody one at a time even though there are a ton of them and that shouldn’t be possible, shoot them all with a bow you looted off one of them”

and now they’re just... suddenly free and back on their horses, then matthias had a vague fake deep exchange with the leader and they rode away. there literally was no reason for that entire interlude. nothing happened, there wasn’t character development or anything. this godforsaken movie could have been ten minutes shorter.

“the plot is down there, just past that greenscreen” is what I heard there.

I’m sorry I’m dying for some reason all I’m getting from this visual is “wait are you saying the panel is all the way on the other side of the convention center” like the costumes are just mediocre enough that in bright light they don’t look like they’re actually actors in a movie.

the moon’s rising. but I can’t for the life of me remember why that’s important. she’s got some kinda egyptian steampunk millennium rod though.

okay the lenses must align with the cipher. did anyone mention a cipher before who knows.

good job matthias you solved the moon puzzle and your prize is a metric ton of blue jello.

all right through the jello portal they go. to find the book of souls, probably.

in this case I actually do need more exposition. are we just not gonna explain ancient egyptian jello narnia. no. okay.

stop forcing zach mcgowan to be quippy I know all the cool movies are doing it but this is neither the time nor the place nor the actor for it.

oh my god they’re being attacked by a rock golem thing and I don’t think a screenshot can fully capture how bad the cgi is. not of the rock monster itself, but trying to integrate it with the real actors and set pieces was... oof.

okay a mostly naked woman has risen out of some nearby water and called off the rock golem with no explanation. why not.

neither of them looks into this so much as confused as hell

honestly, same.

oh god no they’re trying to make the rock golem be the comic relief this movie never needed. please don’t. you can barely handle writing the plot relevant dialogue now’s not the time to get fancy. I take it back, trying to make zach mcgowan be quippy was actually somehow not the worst option.

she IS the book of souls!

okay that’s a pretty cool visual I’ll give them that. digging the iridescent moon tattoo.

and that seems like a reasonable stopping point because I started this kind of late and have to get up for class in the morning. tune in tomorrow for, I assume, more of zach mcgowan running around in various states of undress while absolutely nothing coherent happens around him.

[reivenesque]

A Cobra Kai Post Tournament Fic [H/C. Friendship]

Running in a Serpentine Fashion Chapter 1: Diaz 

(AO3)

It had been nearly a week since the tournament – which they won, by the fucking way... not that it really even felt like it – because Sensei Johnny was still moping around over god knows what attempting to drown himself in his office with six-packs of lukewarm Coors light. Miguel didn’t realize when sensei even made the switch. He was the one who always said light drinks were for pussies.

They won in spectacular fashion, like one of those cool underdog sports movies and his sensei’s reaction had been… cold at best, which confused the hell out of Miguel. He taught them to win and they did, and his lack of enthusiasm about it was just frustrating as shit. And strange, even by sensei’s definition of strange.

It didn’t help that stuff was weird at home as well. His Yaya was totally over the moon about his win (something about him finally becoming a man that isn’t such a doormat) and his mom had been happy and proud – at first at least, or that was how it seemed on the surface. Miguel could always tell when his mom had something that she needed to get off her chest. She kept acting all strange about him and saying pointed stuff that he couldn’t really understand. But whatever she really wanted to say she kept pent up – which happened like never, so whatever it was was obviously something huge.

It wasn’t until that evening that she finally out and said it while she was bent over the sink washing the dishes and Miguel had come into the kitchen to get a drink. “You were really quite violent with that kid at the tournament the other day. I almost didn’t recognize you for a minute there, mijo.”

And finally everything seemed to click into place.

“I won didn’t I? Strike first, strike hard; no mercy. That’s the Cobra Kai way!” he said. His mom didn’t respond to what he said and when he looked up at the silence he found her eyes shining with what seemed like sadness as they continued staring him down. “Whatever,” he said. He didn’t want to get into it, least of all with his mom and least of all right then. Sensei Johnny was being a moody dick, his mom was being weird and neither of them were reacting to his win the way he expected them to which was kind of pissing him off. So he shoved the orange juice back in the fridge and with a mumbled, “I’m going out,” he grabbed his jacket and left without another word.

Moon and Hawk were sucking face against the wall outside the convenience store they were at, making really gross sucking sounds that were getting super annoying and attracting too much unwanted looks of disapproval from the old people passing by.

When Miguel left the house to get away from that uncomfortable talk his mom was about to make, he did it not with the intention of becoming the third wheel to Eli of all goddamn people making out with one of the hottest girls in school when they were supposed to be hanging out helping him lick his wounds. Thank god for Aisha.

“Nut?” offered Aisha, offering an opened bag of peanuts to him when he walked over and took a seat beside her on the sidewalk.

“Nah,” he said, waving off the offer. “Thanks. I think I have enough nuts in my life as is.”

“Problem at home?” she asked.

“At home yeah… and at the dojo… and at school… and with sensei and my mom and Sam and just – just when I thought things were finally going right in my life,” he groaned exasperatedly and buried his face in his knees, the very picture of wretched. 

He wished badass Miguel from the tournament, the one who kicked ass and got the crowd all pumped up and shit would have stuck around. He was tired of being loser Miguel who didn’t get the girl, made his mom all sad and caused whatever depressive mood his sensei was currently stuck in. He thought he’d finally crawled out of that particular hole.

“Life sucks!” he bellowed suddenly, startling Aisha beside him into dropping the bag of nuts in her hand. She managed to snatch it up out of the air and continued picking at it like nothing happened.

“It does,” she said unhelpfully and completely unconcerned.

Miguel sighed and let his arms drop to the side, resting his forehead on his knees once again.

He didn’t know how long he stayed in that position, probably looking as pathetic as he felt, ironic for someone who just won the All Valley Championship; beating out people with much more experience than him. It was pretty rad for someone who just a year ago would walk around with greens stuck in his braces for hours without realizing it.

“Oh shit, you’re not going to believe this, Diaz.” It was Hawk who made him finally look up. Aisha was busy staring at an indistinct spot across the street and the fact that he’d actually managed to peel himself away from Moon’s lips to notice whatever it was that caught his eye, it must have been something really important. “Check it out, man,” he said what Miguel caught his eye, following in the direction he was indicating with a jutted chin

And up until that point, Miguel didn’t think his night could get any worse. But evidently someone upstairs named Murphy decided that he hadn’t had enough shit flung at him already.

Because down the street, illuminated under the streetlight, strutting without a care in the world and headed towards the convenience store they were convened in front of was none other than Daniel LaRusso’s super special protégé student, Keene.

Just the sight of him made Miguel’s blood boil and all of his other problems all of a sudden seemed almost unimportant.

“Come on, Miguel,” said Aisha, sounding almost concerned. “Let’s not get into this now. It isn’t worth it. Besides, you already won, right?”

Miguel could hear Aisha speaking but none of what she was saying actually registered. He sensed Hawk stepping up behind him, flinging an arm across his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Round two, man?” He said. Miguel could almost hear the sound of the smirk on his face. “Remember what sensei taught us: strike first, strike hard. No mercy.”

“Don’t listen to him, Miguel,” said Aisha, ever the peacemaker. “Just let it go.”

Miguel was literally standing there with both an angel and the devil whispering into his ear and he didn’t know which advice to take. Instead he asked himself: what would Sensei Johnny do?

The answer it turned out, presented itself before the little sensei in his head could even begin to verbalize of an answer, when Keene got close enough to notice Miguel staring at him like he’d kicked his dog. Miguel didn’t own a dog in any case, he was terribly allergic to fur, but he imagined he would have that exact look if he had a dog and someone decided to kick it.

“Hey, Keene, out so late by yourself? Where’s your precious sensei LaRusso?” he asked. Beside him he could hear Hawk cheering and Aisha sighing exasperatedly.

Keene was about ten feet away before he slowed down to a stop, rolling his eyes and sighing tiredly when Miguel finished his spiel. He thought he sounded pretty damn cool himself.

“Look, I’m not looking for trouble,” he said, raising both arms in front of him. His shoulder must be feeling better since he was without the sling, Miguel thought, not that it mattered anyway.

“Too bad,” he said. “Cause trouble’s my middle name, and you just found him.”

The moment the words left his lips he knew he’d messed up his own cool monologue scene. Beside him he could hear Aisha scoffing and her derisive, “Dude, that was beyond lame. How are we even friends?”

He couldn’t even find it in him to fault her for that one.

“I’m leaving, okay?” said Keene without addressing the utterly lame point of conversation and if Miguel didn’t hate his guts so much, he’d be super appreciative of the guy not rubbing it in.

For a split second right then, he couldn’t even recall why he hated the guy in the first place.

But then his mind went to thoughts of Sam and it rekindled the fire underneath him once again.

“Running like a little mouse, coward?” yelled Hawk at his receding back.

Keene evidently took a much better course on witty comebacks because he said, “Well I can’t wait around all night for you to go fix that lame ass haircut,” which Miguel hated to admit, was a pretty awesome response.

It stirred up Hawk the wrong way unfortunately and Miguel found himself getting between Hawk and Keene instead of being the one leading the charge.

“Don’t be such a pussy, Diaz,” said Hawk, shoving him hard, forcing him to take a step back. “And you,” he continued, looking up at Keene who’d stopped to watch the proceedings interestedly, “We still have unfinished business.”

It was Moon who fortunately swooped in to save the day and the pun was definitely intended; grabbing Hawk by the hand and pulling him back to finish their exploration of each other’s facial cavity by the side of the store. Miguel forced himself to look away disgustedly.

He found Keene staring at him intently when he turned around. “What?”

It took him a moment to think up whatever lie he was about to spin, at least, that’s what Miguel’s brain told him what’s up. “Look man, I know you don’t like me, and I’m really… just… unbothered by any of you. But whatever you think went on with me and Sam… you’re wrong – and pretty stupid for messing up that badly with her.”

Miguel wondered why he stopped Hawk from beating the guy to a pulp at that moment but he reined back his anger. “What did you say?”

Keene seemed to realize his words because he raised a hand as a show of peace. “I mean, Sam was just being a friend, and nothing more. What happened at the beach party – she was talking about you the whole way there. Her mom took her phone and I helped her get out by pretending that I sprained her ankle so her mom would get her to drive home. That’s why she came to find you there and you did… whatever it was you did there.”

Miguel found himself speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land. It was not a good look in general, and it probably looked even worse on him. “What?”

“Yeah, man. You had a great thing going with her and you messed it up by being… well, by being a dumb guy.”

“But I saw you guys, at her house having dinner that night? She wouldn’t even think of introducing me to her family but with you…” the last part came out almost as a whine which he wasn’t proud of.

Keene’s brows narrowed, like he was trying to remember the dinner Miguel had mentioned. When it finally came to him, his eye roll was very obvious and very exasperated. “Christ, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

“Don’t call me an idiot!” he said, taking a menacing step forward but was held back by Aisha’s hand on his shoulder.

“Well then stop acting like one,” he said, causing Miguel to grumble. “I wasn’t there with Sam. I was there because her dad was teaching me karate and he invited me to dinner. Nothing more.”

As much as Miguel hated Keene calling him an idiot it was slowly and surely dawning on him that he really was a stupid idiot.

“Oh,” he said dumbly.

“Yeah, oh-exactly,” said Keene, and even though Miguel’s hate for him had simmered down by a lot, it still didn’t stop him feeling like he wanted to punch the guy right in his annoyingly pretty face.

“Have you come back to your senses yet, Miguel?” asked Aisha, “Cause I miss the dorky, nice Miguel who I joined the Cobra Kais with, not this… skinny, Latino terminator wannabe Miguel who’s really kind of a dick if I have to be honest. Sam deserves better than that.”

Miguel deserved all the name calling he was getting – and more. He really did feel like a fool, and a tool. He didn’t regret anything he’d achieved at the tournament, it was all because of his sensei that he managed to even achieve all that and he was forever grateful. But he couldn’t stop thinking that maybe he could have handled everything better.

His mom’s unspoken words the last couple of days suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense right then.

“Sorry,” he muttered to no one in particular.

Keene just exhaled, understanding that the indistinct apology was directed at him without Miguel saying it outright. “It’s fine. Will you all please leave me alone now?”

Miguel tried to stop the sheepish look from creeping up onto his face – he still had a reputation to uphold – but resistance proved futile. “Sorry about your shoulder too.”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done.”

Keene really was the better man of the two of them. Miguel realized that old Miguel would never have had a problem admitting that, but for karate champion Miguel, the taste of it was still a bit bitter on his tongue. He was still going to have to work on that.

All of a sudden Keene’s eyes caught sight of something coming up from the side street and his posture immediately changed. The easy air that had come about him immediately dissipated. His brows narrowed and his shoulders became tense.

“Get out of here, guys,” he said to Miguel and Aisha.

Miguel followed his line of sight and saw a group of guys whose faces he couldn’t make out coming out of the side street, headed towards where they were standing almost in the middle of the empty road.

“Everything okay?” asked Aisha when her eyes too followed where Miguel and Keene’s were looking.

“Yeah,” said Keene in a clipped tone. “Just go home, this doesn’t concern you guys.”

From afar Miguel could hear one of the guys saying the name Robby in a teasing, sing-song voice. He felt Aisha’s grip tighten on his shoulder, gently pulling him back from where they were standing. Keene had turned away from them, facing the direction the group were coming from, his hands balled into a tight fist and his eyes narrowed.

“Come on, Miguel. You heard what he said,” said Aisha.

Miguel let himself be dragged back without taking his eyes away from Keene and glancing over at the menacing group closing in on him.

Keene wasn’t his friend. He didn’t even like the guy all that much – or at all. But looking at his back becoming smaller the further away he got, Miguel couldn’t help the odd clenching feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he knew something bad was about to happen.

Tbc.

[prorevenge]

Tarnish my honor? How about no money or job?

tl;dr will be at the bottom as this is quite long story.

Names, places and dates have all been changed to conceal people’s identity in this event.

Context

Let me set the scene first, I had joined the Army direct from “high school” (for my colonial friends) and had a great time, however my contract was up and I had decided that I really wanted to go back into further education and redo my high school (As I failed everything as I was so focused on joining the Army at the time) with the intention on going to University. So, with that in mind I did not sign on for another contract with the Army I just left.

Now, it’s a bit depressing being in my early 20s, ex serving solider and living at home with his mother but that’s the way it had to be as the money I had saved from the Army was going directly towards my higher education not to mention that I spent most of my time applying to colleges trying to get on a course. I needed a part time job; it’s not that I was not applying for jobs the minute I was back at my mum’s house I just spent more time trying to get onto a course, it was just that within 6 months I was not even getting any interviews. My friends and family all said its more than likely being an ex-solider and the social climate at the time in Europe would have been against me getting a job. Then out of know where I get a phone call from Awesome Area Boss from a low tier model Retail Company (From now on shall be called AAB). I go to the interview and get on very well with AAB, AAB tells me the position is what they called “Key timers” which in a nut shell meant weekend staff and public holidays which was fine with me as my goal was my education. The pay was ok, I could not save anything but it would keep me afloat as it were, and to be honest from what I understood about the company it was quite relaxed worked. AAB offers me the job on the spot to which I was over the moon with, he asked me to start the following week. The following week comes around and bright eyed and bushy tailed I get to the shop. ABB introduces me to “Matt” our opposing force in this story.

The opposing force,

“Matt” (not real name of course) is in his late 30s and has only ever worked at this model shop. Matt at first seemed like a nice guy, a little unhygienic with his dirty work uniform but maybe that’s just me with uniforms, in hindsight he was only ever nice to me when AAB was on site and sadly AAB had like 6-9 shops to look after so this meant our tiny little shop was not a priority for him unlike the mega store in the capital city that was making the big money. Matt took his job with a pinch of salt often being lazy with his duties and bashing our customers and their kids not to mention making fun of my military background, belittled me in front of customers (I took this at first as banter, you have to understand I thought what went on the military would more than likely move over to civilian life and just assumed this was a fact of life) then I started to notice a pattern that this was emotional bullying there is no way he could physically bully me as I was bigger than him and physically fit and to some extent had some training, he knew this and thus emotional bullying was his weapon of choice. When ABB was not there he would often “order” me (His words not mine) to do jobs he could not be bothered doing, such as set up sale displays. He would often tell me he was “higher ranking” than me and that with my back ground I should do as he says (he was not higher than me he was just the full time employee at the store, same pay scale just did more hours than me). I did everything he said, for a few reasons. My first priority was I needed to keep this job and I had 3/4 month trial period, so I needed to keep in everyone’s good books to keep this job. He gave me jobs like cleaning the toilet (Which has never been cleaned in years) as “I was used to this type of job”. He would ask me to do big tasks like inventory stock 5 minutes before closing the store while he went out drinking with his mates over the road at a bar as apparently “head office had asked me for the stock take and not him” although a little store doing stock takes hours, yes this was paid work. For context as I was new to the area I did not have any real friends anyway as my mother was divorced while I was in the Army and separated from my step dad and living in the new area. So at that time I did not complain and I also believed that they had asked me to do such things. I never questioned authority, something I later had to learn to do.

The recce

Anyway, the trial period pasts by really quickly and AAB asks me in for a post-trial interview. He sits me down and starts to explain this is serious and explains if I am ok with it anything I say now will be recorded. I just assumed that this was part in parcel of what happens in these types of interviews and agree. AAB goes on to explain that money and stock are missing on the days that I was working. I was stunned! Even speechless, I started to panic and off the bat told the AAB that I had never stolen anything. Although I liked working for the company I don’t paint or play with models, and with the money gone I told him honestly I had no idea about this and was confused by all this.

AAB then thanks me for the attending the interview and stops recording the conversation (Pen and paper recording). AAB then states that “I can’t prove anything, so even if I had stolen anything, nothing could be proven that you had done it”. I was red with anger by this time with the implication that people thought I was stealing but kept my mouth shut as I’ve learned when I was in Army never open your mouth to a senior rank when angry (3 days cleaning a parade square with a butter knife for that life lesson but that’s another story). ABB then says that I’ve passed my initial trial period and have moved on to being an employee. This shocked me even more; I thought I was going to be fired there and then. ABB then said he believed that I did not take anything but had to investigate any accusation made by another member of staff and that it could be a input problem with the machines we use for stock and the till system we use for payment but he needed to ask all staff that worked these days. ABB being a full on dude just under toned what happened. Matt just told management that I was stealing.

Ok Matt, the game is on.

The calm before the storm

Matt was later asked to leave the company as his constant bashing of our customers and their kids one day led to head office getting to many complaints from customers about Matt. AAB then came to the shop to fill in for a full timer until someone was employed. Me and AAB get on really well and worked well together, I filled AAB on the finer details on working with Matt to which apparently he knew what was going on but could not move on anything until I complained about it to which I never did thinking this was a normal way of working life to AAB surprise but could also understand coming from my sort of background. Matt had made it very clear to AAB that he did not want anyone else working in the same store as him before I got hired but as the store was growing he needed help and so my position was made and the rest is history. AAB told me that Matt had tried to get me fired for months saying that I turned up to work late, drank beer before starting a shift and that I am possibly on drugs. The worst was that he suggested that I was to “close to the kids” that come into the store. AAB backed me 100% to the company directors and said these are false accusations (This is why he’s Awesome Area Boss).

Into the breach my friends

Years later I see Matt working as an estate agent for a local firm. Matt is wearing a full on suit, shit and shoes driving a company car looking pro. I was in my final year of my course but had left the model store I worked at as it was closed down. I got a part time job working at an internet café which funny enough was right next to Matt’s new estate agent firm. He even came into the café telling me “this is all you must be good for” and that he “earns more money than my education is worth”. So, it seems like hes out for me still for some unknown reason. Maybe he’s not happy with himself? Or very insecure? I could of completely shut him down physically again but it would only ever end up me being in jail and not him so there was no point to it. I just verbal told him if he carries on that a smack in the mouth would be the least of his worries. He leaves the internet café.

A woman comes over to me who was using one of our computers and asks what that was all about. I said that he and I go way back and he holds some hostility towards me. She then introduces herself as one of his customers and is in the final process of buying a house of him not only this but she has recommended him to all of her friends who are looking to sell their houses.

"CONTACT FUCKING FRONT" All I say is that she should be very careful as I know him to be very dishonest so much so that when we worked together he was let go because of some very shady actions but did not give her full details. She then divulges all this information how her husband did not like him but she thought he was ok to buy a house from which Matt stands to make some good commission % on (Before housing bubble economy in Europe) which would have been in the thousands. I said that to be honest I would not be surprised if something under handed was going on if he was their estate agent I would not trust him with a coffee order let alone a house. The women then asks me some more in-depth questions about the situation to which I did explain to her I feel uncomfortable about but I do want revenge on this scum bag. Turns out her husband is also ex services and can now understand why her husband did not like him either. I tell her everything that went on. Few days went past and I see Matt walking down the street past my café I think nothing of it but then noticed though out the day he did not come back to his office. Oh well he must be on holiday or something.

Turns out this lady complained about him to the firm and he quit before he would have been fired, I later heard that he made next to nothing as it was a commission based job and that the women had told all of her friends not to use this guy or the company anymore. The company was told nothing about my situation with Matt but about how Matt represented the company in such a bad way with how he talks to people that the company had to let him go or the women would take her business elsewhere. Justice is served!

tl;dr Ex-military joining the civilian life in a new job, coworker belittles me in front of customers, accused me of stealing and other criminal activity in a previous job. Years later find him working for an estate agent and manage to get him to quit his job before being fired and stop him from making a huge amount of money from sales commission by talking to his client.

(source) (story by Vonclausehitz)

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Vampire, The Zombie and The Werewolf

Request: There's a Halloween episode of Buffy where there's a costume shop but the guy who owns it puts a spell or something on it so whatever costume you have on Halloween you become it. Could you have Sam and Dean and Cas get costumes from there but reader gets one from somewhere else or home made so she has to make sure nothing bad happens b/c all of the sudden there are monsters and the boys aren't hunters?

Pairing: none (Team Free Will centric)

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Non-supernatural supernatural stuff? Got it...

“Alright guys! You got two minutes before I drag you down here!” you shouted from the foyer of your shared house, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Coming, ya little...well look at you, slugger,” said Dean. You glanced down at your old softball uniform, leaving the shirt untucked from the pants, your hair in a side braid under a backwards cap, your mitt in one hand. 

“Where’s your costume?” you said with a frown, Dean holding up a werewolf mask. “That is not a costume and you know it.”

“Boo!” Sam shouted, Dean jumping behind him as he saw Sam sporting some fake blood and some tattered clothes, trying to be a zombie from the looks of it.

“Scare her! She’s the one making us go to this party anyways,” said Dean with a grumble.

“Come on. You guys are doing me a solid. Janice keeps saying she wants to meet my roommates. Plus there’ll be free booze,” you said, twirling your hips.

“And girls in sexy costumes, right?” asked Dean, Sam rolling his eyes. 

“Sure,” you said, hearing Cas come down the stairs, wearing a bed sheet. “Very original buddy.”

“I thought so,” he said, tearing the sheet off and revealing his count dracula cape underneath. 

“So Dean’s the only one that didn’t dress up,” you said, cocking your head. He sighed and ran upstairs to his room and back down, sporting a pair of fake paws with claws, his mask on.

“Rawr,” he said, swiping at the air, making you laugh. “Lead the way slugger. It’s only a four block walk, right?”

“Yup,” you said, Cas locking up as you headed down the path and to the street, the guys muttering that you never got any kids to trick or treat on your block. You glanced around at the quiet street, the moon poking out behind a cloud. “At least it’s a nice night, not freezing like last year.”

No one responded and you kept walking, humming along until you got to the corner of the street and turned your head, the boys nowhere in sight.

“Guys?” you asked, looking all around. “Come on guys, don’t scare me, it’s not funny.”

You didn’t see them anywhere, clenching your hands into fists.

“Guys! I’m serious! It’s dark and don’t pull this shit on me!” you shouted, hoping if they thought you were actually scared they’d call off their plan to jump out at you. When no one came out of hiding a few seconds later you actually felt a jolt of panic. “Guys?”

“Hi,” you heard behind you, Cas nearly giving you a heartache as you spun around to see him smiling at you.

“At least one of you is going to be an adult. Where are the wonder twins?” you asked, Cas stepping forward, licking his lips. “Uh, Cas?”

“You smell very...good,” said Cas, leaning forward as you stepped back, holding your mitt up and catching his face.

“Dude! You’re seeing someone! Did you pregame or something? You’re being weird,” you said, walking away from him. “Don’t do that again, got it?”

When you got no response and spun around, he was gone, probably off to sulk at home.

“Drunk little shit,” you muttered, hearing a raspy groaning further up the next block, spotting a tall looking zombie. “Oh great, he’s drunk too.”

You stormed up to Sam, doing a damn good job of sounding like an undead creature, trying to grab at you but too slow for his own good. 

“Where is your brother, moose?” you asked, Sam groaning again. “Sit on the sidewalk and do not move, understand me?” 

Sam groaned as he followed you over before you took off farther down the street. Spinning back around two seconds later, Sam was gone, wandering through one of your neighbors yards most likely.

“What the fuck guys? I’m your babysitter now?” you grumbled, Dean jumping out in front of you, making you jerk back. “Get your ass home now!”

Dean didn’t say anything but snarled and swiped his paw at your mitt, the sound of the leather tearing. You glanced down at it, showing the deep cuts before back at Dean, finding the mask to be...off. It was formed a little too well to his head and the mouth was moving...

“Maybe there’s a gas leak,” you said, shaking your head, trying to grab Dean by the arm, getting a shove to the ground instead, Dean standing over you. “I am going to kick your ass if you don’t sober up in the next two seconds Dean.”

He growled and bent down, baring his teeth, your eyes widening when you saw that it wasn’t just a mask you were looking at. It was...real. Somehow it was...

“Dean? Good boy?” you asked, hoping you weren’t nuts. He growled and you reached up to pet his furry head, scratching behind his ears, Dean whimpering and nuzzling into it. “Someone drugged me. That’s what’s going on. There is no way in hell my best friend is currently a werewolf that is...fucking hell Dean!”

He’d rolled onto his back, looking for a tummy rub for the looks of it. You shook your head and you heard him snarl, your hand running over his stomach as you winced. 

“Good boy,” you said, Dean suddenly jumping up and sniffing sharply at your face. You pet his head again and that seemed to calm him down. “Okay, let’s get you home so I can figure out what to do with...shit.”

If Dean was somehow an actual real life monster, what about the other two? It’d explain why they were acting so strange. But a vampire and zombie weren’t exactly things you wanted running about on a night where kids were out and about.

“Dean, you’re such a good boy,” you said, hearing him bark as you rubbed up and down his back. “Can you...I can’t believe I’m asking this...but can you sniff out Sam and Cas? We need to bring them home with us.”

Dean tilted his snout up and sniffed, taking off down the street as you jogged to keep up. You saw Sam wandering around a front yard a few houses down, Dean running back to you, looking for more praise apparently.

“Good boy, Dean. I’ll give you a treat later,” you said, Dean barking and attracting Sam. He wandered over, snapping his jaw open and shut a few times that caused you to shiver. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother, Sam confused but not really minding as he just let Dean push him further along the street and back home.

Dean bumped into you and you pet him again, Dean walking the three of you down to your house where you front door was open. Dean went first with Sam as you shut the door and heard your kicthen being torn apart.

“What the...” you said, walking down the hall to find Cas with the fresh meat you’d picked up at the store earlier on the floor, the blood from the package over his hands as he sucked on a finger. “Ew. You’re getting salmonella poisoning for sure Cas.”

“No I won’t,” he said, Dean letting go of Sam as the both grabbed at the meat on the ground and started to tear into it.

“Guys, you’re going to get sick,” you said, Cas giving you a smile again. “You are not a blood sucking vampire.”

“Not yet,” said Cas, stepping forward as you held up your hands, your mitt being the only thing that seemed to stop them all from ripping you to shreds tonight.

“Alright boys,” you said, looking around, trying to figure out your next step. Dean was the least of your worries, especially with the way he would wrangle in Sam if told. Cas was the most level-headed at the moment but that wasn’t saying much. “Um, if you guys stay here in the kitchen, I’ll bring you back treats in just a little while, okay?”

“Or we could just have the treat in front of us,” said Cas. “I’m sure the thriller reject wouldn’t mind either.”

Dean growled at Cas and stood in front of you as you slapped a palm over your face. You weren’t sure to be scared or laugh at this point.

“Be a good puppy and you can have the heart,” said Cas, Dean loosening his fighting stance. 

“Dean...” you said, petting his head. “You got to help me out. Calm Cas and Sam down while I fix you guys.”

Dean growled at Cas and jumped on top of him as you pulled the kitchen door shut, shoving a chair behind it, not like that’d stop them. You went upstairs to their rooms, trying to find anything to help you, only the bags their costumes came in catching your eye.

“This is...oh we’re already nuts, might as well roll with it at this point,” you said, grabbing one of the bags and dialing the number for the store. It was late but the voice on the other end didn’t seem surprised.

“Kil’s Costume Shop, how may I turn you into a monster this evening?” the man said, a smirk in his voice.

“Listen up. My friends are literal monsters and you’ve got something to do with it,” you said, expecting an awkward pause or a big laugh.

“That’s kind of the point of the costumes. They make you a literal monster, hun,” said the guy, your jaw clenching.

“Well they kind of want to eat me so I’ve got a problem with that,” you said, the guy sighing.

“Oh, they’re harmless for the most part,” he said, like he was talking about a posion fucking ivy rash.

“One tried to suck my blood!” you yelled, hearing a commotion downstairs. “Listen pal-”

“I said mostly harmless. It only lasts until midnight. Keep an eye on them if you’re so worried then,” he said.

“Oh, well thanks for the update! I’m just swell now!” you yelled, the guy grumbling. 

“It’s basic witchcraft. Any idiot with google can figure out how to undo it. Good luck,” he said, ending the call. 

“Any idiot with google can figure it out,” you mumbled, grabbing your laptop, not sure what the hell to even look up as you heard your kitchen start getting torn apart. 

Fifteen minutes later you were holding a spray bottle normally meant for ironing, now full of the concoction you whipped up using stuff from your bathroom. You pulled the chair away and flung open the kitchen door, Dean sitting on top of Cas, Sam munching on a pack of beef jerky.

You sprayed the mist in the air a few times, hitting all three. Nothing happened for a few moments and you groaned, turning around to go find another solution. A hand caught your arm as you rounded the stairs to research again and you kicked freely, hitting the poor guy so hard he dropped to his knees.

“Ow,” said Dean hoarsely, bending over as Sam and Cas followed over with confused looks on their faces.

“What the...” said Cas. “What even...”

“Take off those costumes and throw them in a garbage bag. Now,” you said, Cas dropping his cape fast, Sam back a minute later in normal clothes and adding it to the pile. You grabbed Dean’s stuff up and tossed it in, putting the bag in the back yard in the trashcan and setting it on fire, putting it out with the hose a few minutes later.

“Did I eat raw chicken?” asked Sam, cocking his head. “The morning is not going to be fun.”

“Just sit on the couch and put on a halloween movie. We’re staying in tonight,” you said, changing out of your costume upstairs, coming back a few minutes later to find them all in their normal spots.

“Y/N?” asked Dean, now in a pair of pajamas. “Did you...pet me?”

“New rule. You three will never go near that costume store again and we will never discuss what happened tonight ever. Agreed?” you said, all three nodding their heads. 

“Agreed.”

@charliebradbury1104 @everyday-supernatural-af @squirels-angels-and-moose @youwerelikeadream @drugpug @darkx143 @kristaparadowski @tom-is-in-my-tardis @tanithlowisabamf @smoothdogsgirl @dancingalone21 @ktrivia @demonic-meatball @feelmyroarrrr @cojootromuelle @gallifreyansass @casgetoutofmydiddlydarnass @mogaruke @ria132love @heycassbutt-67 @aingealcethlenn @docharleythegeekqueen @missmotherhen @smacklesandstretch67 @tumblinwith-me @samisimportant

@awkwardcupcake95 @heaven-is-aplaceonearthwithyou @hey-um-misha @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @lovelife-tothefullest @under-general-asthetics @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @missdestiel67 @evyiione @jensenackesl @xxxdevine-demonsxxx @ayeeitsemry @mac5323 @atc74 @nanie5 @captainemwinchester @idalinette @quiddy-writes @pureawesomeness001 @poukothenerd @mickey-m399 @mrswhozeewhatsis @upon-a-girl @flufy07 @alilianamendez @batmanprincesskitten @uniquewerewolfsuit @whit85-blog

@zeusmyster @maddieburcham1 @moonstar86 @arryn-nyxx @spn-ficfanatic @kickasscas67 @mrsbatesmotel53 @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @untitled39887 @emilymorgan1994  @its-not-a-tulpa @pillow223 @jaelami @roxyspearing @extreme-supernatural-lover

[caffeineivore]

On Review Etiquette

So, lately, I have been participating in @sailormoonreviewevent and it brings back some of my best and worst memories of fandoms, not just SM but fandoms in general, and the people who populate them. 

Background information: I’ve been around since dinosaurs still roamed the Earth and geocities sites with animated word-art headers and the like were still the norm. In the case of Sailor Moon as well as other fandoms in which I have participated, I seem to always end up in a peculiar sort of capacity-- on the one hand, I’d pretty much stick to a very small corner of the fandom wherein my ship and/or character preferences kept me mostly away from the vast majority of the riff-raff and the fandom politics, but maybe because I have an inherently bossy and super type-A personality, I’d still end up in some sort of organizational capacity. The whip-cracker, as it were, amidst a bunch of creative types. For instance, in Sailor Moon, I pretty much stuck exclusively with senshi/shitennou. I paid very little attention to fanfics not about senshi/shitennou, and don’t really know people outside of that group. However, for all that, I ended up organizing ficathon for a few years, as well as moderating a writing community and planning meet-ups between members. In this role, I get to see a lot of the nuts and bolts which go on behind the scenes, and, unfortunately, also have to play the bad guy in certain sticky situations, which brings me to the point of this post.

Now, as a fanfic writer myself, I can say definitively that reviews make the world go round. Much as we write for fun, and we write to please ourselves, there is nothing quite so uplifting and encouraging as a genuine, sincere, detailed positive review. You know the type-- the ones that tell you exactly what they liked the most about your fic, in such a way that shows that not only did they read it, but it truly had an impact on them-- maybe it made them reconsider a facet of a character they’d never considered before, or maybe it mentions their favourite lines, or maybe it subconsciously reassures the writer on some point or another which they were uncertain about. Obviously, these are like the gold standard of reviews, and somewhat rare and far between. However, you’ll also get a bunch of “omg i <3 this fic MOAR PLZ”, which is okay too. You’ll probably even get a few with constructive criticism, which may sting at the time, but if the reviewer 1. means well and 2. has a point, it’s definitely worth your time to take their words into account. 

However, then you get one of these other types of reviews:

1. “Why did you write about [character] and/or [ship] they suxxxx [other character/ship] IS SO MUCH BETTER!!!!!”

2. this fucking fic is dumb. you suck. die in a fire. flame flame flame flame flame. trollololol I have no life I live in my parents’ basement and wank over how hard I am even though I need to put people down behind a meaningless screen name to feel better about myself. Not in a million years would I have the balls to say this sort of thing to someone’s face, but on the internet I am a Grade A Certified Prime Asshole and proud of it. [guest review anonymous]

3. So yeah this fic is great and I know it’s marked complete but could you add another chapter? Perhaps with [very specific plot and character requirements to cater into my personal whims] plzkthxbai!

4. Ummm... so why are you writing [characters] in [AU setting] or [different version of canon-- manga/anime/pgsm/etc.]?? MY PREFERRED CANON IS BETTER. WHY CAN’T YOU DO WHAT I WANT YOU TO DO??

5. Update faster plz!!! I need the next chapter NOW!! Actually I needed it YESTERDAY!! WTF ARE YOU DOING WHY ARE YOU NOT WRITING?!?!!?!!

Annnnnnnnd... you count to ten, resisting the impulse to chuck the phone or computer out the window. Take a deep breath, count to ten again, backward this time, and remind yourself that this is just fanfic. Just fanfic. Fandom’s bound to have a few idiots. You want to reply to the reviewer: “Look can u not” but that would be validating them, making them more important than they should be. You tell yourself it’s just a troll, but nonetheless, it hurts. And when you pick up that fic again, you’ll probably remember that one review in the back of your mind, taunting, more vivid than a dozen “gr8 job hope to see more soon!”’s. 

And it’s sad. So I’m about to give everyone who has experienced this (which, in all likelihood, is everyone who has posted a fanfic in any fandom ever) a voice. A loud, stridently snarky one. 

Reviewers: CAN U NOT?? with the trolling????

Look, I’m so glad that you have the time and the means to sit around and chill and read fanfic. It’s a luxury that requires a lot of first world amenities that not everyone has, so kudos to you. But that means, also, that you have a lot of freedoms not afforded to everyone, such as, y’know, the ability to pick and choose what you decide to read and comment on. There will be fics about every possible permutation of character ships in a fandom. There will be fics in every genre, which run the gamut of writing skill from novice to expert. And pretty much every single fic site, be it something privately owned or some behemoth like ff.n or AO3, will separate their fics into categories by character, genre, length, rating, etc. etc. The internetz is a wonderful thing. You can pretty much find anything with a few clicks. Like you can literally probably search for “I want a fic featuring [character A] and [character B] in a high school AU with angsty undertones and make it a one-shot less than 5000 words because I am on lunch break”, and it will take only the minimal amount of effort to get exactly what you look for to fall into your lap.

We all have our fic preferences. We also all know what we do not like. So, let me ask, why the hell do people insist on not only reading but flaming stuff that they KNOW they’re not going to like?? I am a diehard senshi/shitennou shipper and manga is my preferred canon. I KNOW that I do not ship Rei/Yuuichirou for example, so I won’t go out of my way to read fics featuring them. I’m not crazy about fics which feature tons of violence or porn, or lots of OCs, and I tend to dislike fics which make light of serious issues such as self harm or drug abuse, and I draw a very hard line at rape and sexual assault, especially if it features characters below the age of consent. Like, serious, trigger warning, PTSD, nope nope nope nope at Planet Nope. Now, what do I do if I come across a fic featuring any of these things? 

I DON’T FUCKING READ IT. Really. That’s all there is to it. I scroll down onto the next thing. And in the event that, say, I accidentally clicked on something that I figure out isn’t my cup of tea, it does not take any sort of effort to click right back out. Why give yourself grief? But even more, why give the writer grief? Even if it’s totally not your thing, they put effort into it-- far more effort than you did, clicking on their work. THEY are into what they wrote. 

Now, once upon a time, when I was organizing one of the senshi/shitennou ficathons, one of the submissions happened to feature something that NOPED with me very hard. And as ficathon mistress, I had to read it. So I did. And then replied to the author that it was very well written but I could not review it for personal reasons. Then I sent it off to another moderator to read it and give them an actual review. And that is an extenuating circumstance. Most people would not ever be in the position to have to read a fic that they would otherwise not read, or say anything to the writer of said fic. Even in that circumstance, it is not hard to deal with it in a respectful manner. So, why the fuck would someone willingly and knowingly inflict something they know they’re not going to like on themselves and then punish someone else for it? That makes NO sense.

As far as harassing authors to follow your own niche or write more on a topic or story that they feel as though they’re done with? Dude, write your own fic. You have total control over only one person in this world: yourself. Sure, validating what a fanfic writer does is very nice and gratifying, but they are not trained monkeys there to do your bidding and perform for your personal amusement. Unless you’re paying them good cashy money (which, since it’s fanfic, you’re not), you don’t get to have a say in what they write, when they write it, where they post it (if anywhere), any of that. They are under no contractual obligation to cater in to you in any way. And furthermore, when you try to dictate to them what to write and how to write it, the message is this: I Know Better Than You. Do As I Say. You Don’t Know Shit. What You Do Is Not Good Enough For Me. What You Do Doesn’t Matter. The Only Thing That Matters Is What I Want. 

That’s nothing but a goddamn put-down. And when you put down someone who probably put in a whole lot of thought and effort into something which brings them no possible reward but personal satisfaction and maybe others’ enjoyment, it’s really kind of a sucker-punch. If, say, this was the type of interaction between a boyfriend and girlfriend-- the put-downs, the belittling, the dictating, the insults-- we’d all recoil and call it a toxic, abusive relationship. We’d tell the person receiving those comments to get out of there, to get help, to leave.

So, when you make those types of comments, that’s the message you’re sending that writer. Leave. Get out of here. Go away, for your own good, for your own sanity and health and happiness. 

Now think about it, as you’re scrolling through ff.n or ao3 or wherever, looking for that next undiscovered gem. Think about it, when someone shyly asks you to review their fic, or signs up for the first time for a fandom event such as a ficathon or a big bang or a secret santa exchange. Is that the message you want to give them? That they should leave and never look back?

Now think about it again, and remember when you first discovered fanfic, or your preferred fandom, and wrote your first fic. Maybe it was campy and featured every trope on the TV tropes page. Maybe it was a shameless Mary Sue. Maybe it was ridiculously OOC and featured eye-gougingly purple prose. Maybe it was riddled with typos. Maybe you, yourself, looking back at it now, shake your head at how you could’ve written such a monstrosity. But would you have stayed, I wonder, if nobody at all encouraged you? Countless writers fade into oblivion after one fic, or disappear forever, deleting their fics off the internet. Countless people get fed up with fandom and throw their hands up and dismiss it as a lost cause. These things are going to happen regardless, sure.

But why the hell would you encourage that?

[romanoartsless]

Yeah so um I don’t know what to say so here’s an update

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Chapter 42

Thomas was minding his own business when an arm suddenly wrapped itself around his neck from behind. It took him aback at first until he looked to his side and saw a familiar blond. “Do you always have to make such… dramatic entrances?”

“Yes!” Crispin exclaimed. “When you purchase your friendship with Crispin Petrov, be sure to read the fine print. Spontaneous dramatic entrances are sure to be there.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, but smiled at the remark. “Any news about the competition?”

“Oh yeah, I think I heard someone say the king is raising the stakes or something.”

“Raising the stakes? What does that mean?”

“I think he’s making us report to him everyday or something. That’s what I heard my dad say when I was eavesdropping on him.”

This was not good. Only having to meet up with the king every week gave him time to both get what he needed done with Caterina, but also think up a good enough story to fool the king with. Daily meetings would throw this all off. “Do you know why?”

“Nah, I think that’s what he’s gonna talk to us about today.”

A pause in silence grew between them as Thomas pondered how he might sort this all out until- “Do you want to maybe hang out after this whole meetup thing? Go get drinks or something?”

“Huh?”

“Oh I was just thinking, for people who throw the label best friend around so freely, we barely ever spend any one on one time together anymore, you know, ‘cause we’re busy lately and stuff. I dunno… I thought it was a good idea, but if you-.”

“I’d love to go get drinks with you, Crispin.”

His face lit up at the reply. “Great!” he said, skipping a bit in front of Thomas. “And Gideon’s not crashing the party this time, understood?”

“Understood.”

* * *

Thomas didn’t want to interrupt the king to tell him he was here when he first walked in. He seemed distracted at the moment. He sat at his desk, holding a picture frame containing a collage of circular images of his own face. “I’ll find you,” Thomas swore he heard him whisper to himself, “I promise.”

“Sir?”

“Oh!” the king said, placing the frame back on his desk as he turned around. “Captain! Please, come in.”

Thomas sat down before him in on of the chairs set out. “Crispin told me you were… raising the stakes of the competition?”

“Yes! Yes. I imagine he also told you I wanted all of you in the competition to meet me every other day now.”

“Oh. He said it was everyday.”

“No, it’s every other day. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, good. But yes, the plan is every other day. However I will give all of you a handful of free days, but you must have an excuse.”

“May I ask why you’re raising the stakes?”

“... Personal reasons.”

Thomas didn’t bother to pry any further information out of him. “Now Thomas,” the king began again, “I’ve heard others have been slacking off in their search. You’re not one of those people are you?”

“No sir.” His face stayed blank even when images of Caterina flashed through his mind. Her hair. Her eyes. Her tattoos. Her smile that he wished he could witness one day.

“Captain?”

“Yes?”

“You looked a little distracted there.”

“Oh! Sorry about that.”

“Are you really sure you don’t slack off?”

“One hundred percent sure, sir.”

“Then what have you found so far?”

And Thomas lied straight to the king of Novak’s face. He ate up every line of how he went east and searched and searched to no avail. So much detail he put into these intricate lies that only a select few would think them false. No mention of Caterina. No mention of a search for a murderer.

The king’s deep brown eyes looked like they were on the verge of tears, but before they could spill down his cheeks, he sharply turned around in his seat. “You can go now, captain.”

* * *

About an hour later, Crispin sat at Thomas’s side and they made their way off to a nearby bar. Crispin made his usual snarky remarks as they did their stroll. “I’m just saying,” he joked, “everything in my life would make so much more sense if March Ranez was secretly my dad.”

“Crispin, the chances of you being the secret love child of your mother and March Ranez are just about as slim as the chances of me being the secret love child of my mother and the Wrie prime minister. I mean you have-.”

“I know, I know. I have my dad’s eyes, but like I wish March Ranez was secretly my dad. He’s a cool dude.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and the two of them kept walking. When they finally reached the bar, they sat down at the counter and ordered their drinks. A few hours into chatting, when he was a bit drunk, Crispin said, “You know, the last time I was at a bar, I stabbed a dude’s hand. I mean it was a few months ago, but like yeah, I did that.”

Thomas just about choked on the sip of his drink he was taking. “I’m sorry, you did what?!”

“Just, you know, stabbed some guy’s hand. Like bing bang boom one minute he doesn’t have a knife in his hand, the next he does. That simple.”

“I’m guessing you were blackout drunk when this all happened. Am I right?”

“Nope! I was completely sober!”

Thomas almost choked for a second time. “I know I’ll regret asking this, but why would you stab someone’s hand while you’re sober?”

“He was harassing this girl and, let me tell you, I couldn’t watch that go down so… stab stab stab! I mean it was only one stab, but you get the point. But like Thomas, you don’t understand-”

Crispin began to bang his fists on the table, but Thomas stopped him, saying, “Crispin, you’re drunk. You need to drink some water and calm down.”

“-how hot she was! She was so hot! Truth is, I haven’t been doing jack shit for this competition, I’ve just been hanging out with this girl like every week for the past few months. Like wow, she’s hot. And nice! Fuck, she’s so nice to me. And like sincere, I actually care about you, Crispin, nice and not, I secretly just want to get into your pants, nice. She’s just… wow! Like I kind of want to-.” And in that moment, Crispin took his hand and began to passionately kiss the back of it.

“No! Oh gods no!” Thomas exclaimed, pulling Crispin’s hand away from his face. “We’re in public! Can someone get him a glass of water?”

The bartender set down a glass of water in front of the blond, who chugged it like a shot. “Woo!” Crispin shouted. “You know, brown eyes are soooo beautiful. I could stare into brown eyes forever. Like wow! Hey everyone! I love brown eyes!!!”

“Thank you? But Crispin, you really need to calm down.”

“I’m not talking about your eyes, silly. I’m talking about her.” He was pointing at the wall all the bottles were shelved on.

“Crispin, you’re drunk. You need to drink some water, eat something.”

Thomas pushed the small bowl of nuts on the counter towards Crispin, who promptly poured them in his mouth and on himself. Again, the bartender set down a glass of water in front of Crispin, who took it down with ease. “Another round!”

“No! No. Crispin, I think we’ve had enough for tonight.”

“Noooo! Thomas, you’re no fun! I wanna drink and talk about girls!”

Thomas was practically dragging Crispin out of the bar at this point. “I’ll talk about girls with you if you cooperate with me and just walk to my house with me.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Alrighty!”

Crispin drunkenly skipped beside Thomas as they walked to the captain’s home. Once they got there, Thomas opened the door, Crispin ran in, and crashed onto the couch in the front room. “You said we could talk about girls.”

“Yes I did. Let me go get drinks.” And by drinks he meant water. “Are you ever going to tell me who this mysterious brown eyed girl is?”

“No! It’s a secret.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I just don’t feel like telling anyone.”

Thomas sighed and asked, “Well then, how long have you had feelings for her?”

“What?! I don’t have feelings for anyone! Especially not her! We’re just friends!”

“Crispin, you were literally making out with your hand talking about this girl.”

“It was platonically!”

“I don’t think fantasizing about making out with someone is a platonic thing.”

“You just don’t understand the deepness of our bond, Thomas.”

“You must be a sentimental drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“You’re wasted.”

“Fine then, Mr. Sober, tell me something about some girl in your life.”

“Well… um… there isn’t one.”

“I call bullshit. You hesitated.”

“Um…” Thomas couldn’t think of an answer to please Crispin, so, since the latter was intoxicated and would likely forget the entire conversation by morning, Thomas spat out the first name that came to mind. “Caterina.”

“Oh my gods, there really is someone! Tell me about her so I know she isn’t fake.”

Shit. “Well,” he said ad sat down on the couch next to Crispin who sat alert as can be, “her hair reminds me of midnight skies and every time I see the sunset and the sky goes dark it makes me think of her. And the way the moon glows against the sky reminds me of her skin. Her eyes are so dark and I just want them to consume me entirely when I look into them. And she’s so tall and regal and just-.” It scared him how easily this all came off his tongue.

“Thomas Arthur Dubroin. Holy fucking shit. Why isn’t everyone in Novak dropping their panties for you?! If someone said something like that about me, I’d marry them that second.”

“Thank you…?”

There was a pause before Crispin said, “I’m gonna hibernate  so your overly romantic ass better get off the couch unless you want me to use your lap as a pillow.”

Thomas chuckled and said, “No thank you,” before getting off the seat and heading up to his bedroom. But before he left entirely, he set a bucket beside Crispin for when the hangover would surely set in.

Chapter 43

It had been two weeks and Thomas hadn’t come back. Caterina had grown too used to his bi-weekly visits that not seeing him in that amount of time made her anxious. She’d sit by the door all day the days he was supposed to come, waiting. Some days she’d bring her sketchbook, others she’d just stare at the wall. “Dammit Dubroin,” she muffled under her breath, “where are you?”

She wondered if maybe he decided never to come back. He got her all the files she needed, why did she need him to come back? Why did she want him to come back? Why had her mind, for the past two weeks, been entirely clouded by thoughts of Thomas Arthur Dubroin? Is he ever coming back? Is he just going to abandon me without telling me why? Does he secretly hate me? Why do I miss him so much? Oh gods. Her stomach felt sick at any of the possible ideas that came to her mind.

Then, all of a sudden, the door come swinging open. Caterina half expected it to be the Crows, but got a pleasant surprise when she looked up into golden brown eyes. Before she even realized what she was doing, she jumped off the ground and wrapped her arms around Thomas’s neck. “Well hello to you, too, Caterina.”

She immediately pushed herself away from him, realizing what she had done. “Where the hell have you been for the past few weeks?”

“Back west. The king’s tightening our schedules a bunch and-.”

“Why didn’t you at least give me a heads up?”

“I regretted it the moment I realized what I did. Look, I’m sorry. I thought, at first, you’d be fine since you had all the files. Then I remembered… what happened to you and,” he reached out and grabbed her hand, his thumb drawing swirls on the top of her hand, “I’m sorry, Caterina.”

This time when she wrapped her arms around his neck, she was fully aware of what she was doing. When she pulled away from the embrace, it was much more gentle and only a way for her to be able to walk into her room. She turned around when she realized he wasn’t following her. “You coming?”

“Oh! Yeah.”

Thomas sat down onto his usual chair, awkwardly picking at his fingernails. “So,” Caterina said from across the room, on her bed, “do you care if I ask you something… personal?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you have any… unnatural-.”

“Physical attributes? No Caterina, I don’t think I’m your soul partner.”

“You’re the only explanation.”

“But I’m not. If it’s not me then I’m not the only explanation.”

“Do you think there’s a possible loophole?”

“No. I don’t think you would’ve fainted when you overused on magic a few weeks ago had I been your soul partner.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!”

Thomas chuckled from across the room. “Why are you laughing, Thomas?”

“Nothing, you just make me laugh.”

Caterina tried to hide it when her face flushed red. “Thank you.”

“Thank you? That’s very polite. Who is this new, more polite Caterina?”

“Friend Caterina. Before, that was acquaintance Caterina.”

“Friend? You consider us friends? I’m so honored.”

“As you should be?”

He laughed again. “And who might top tier Caterina be?”

“Crow Caterina, but you’ll never get to meet her.”

“That’s okay, I just want to meet Thomas Caterina.”

Caterina froze. She couldn’t hide her now ripe red face anymore. What made it worse was somewhere deep down inside her she hoped he’d have his own personal level one day, too. Next thing she knew, her mouth was moving without her thinking about it. “I know you got me all the files I wanted, but like… can you keep coming back?”

“Do you have a crush on me or something?”

“No!”

“There’s no need to get defensive, I’m just kidding. But yeah, I’ll come back.”

“I understand if you don’t want to- wait, you’ll come back?”

“Yeah. I mean I could say I’ll keep coming so the king thinks I haven’t found you, but in reality I just like you.”

“You like me?”

“I like you.”

“That’ll change soon.”

Three times. He’d laughed three times now. She hadn’t even meant to make him laugh, but he still did. The sound was what she wished her dreams consisted of. “Gods Caterina, you’re hilarious, I hope you know that.”

“So now you’re just gonna sit there and compliment me.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Please, go on.”

“Alright.”

Whenever he’d say something about her, she’d snark back with a reason why it wasn’t special. “If my grandmother weren’t such a petty bitch, my hair would’ve just been brown. It’s nothing special.”

“How do you know that?”

“How do you think I know that?”

His brown face went as red as it could for its complexion. “Well…”

A cackle fell out of her mouth. “Thomas Dubroin! Oh my god! Get your mind out of the gutter! I know because had brown hair. Sweet little Thomas has a dirty mind now doesn’t?”

“Shut up.”

Caterina began to mock him, sitting like he was and imitating his voice. “Shut up, Caterina. You’re calling me out for my dirty ass mind.”

A vulgar gesture came at her from Thomas. She returned the favor. “You’re what Novak needs, Caterina,” he said between chuckles.

“Ah yes, Novak needs the most wanted person in the whole country.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean someone who doesn’t just sit around and mope around all day.”

The tone in her voice went serious. “But that is me. I do sit and mope. I cry myself to sleep at night and I hold grudges that’ll stick with me until the day I die. I am that person. I am weak.”

“No you’re not and quit telling yourself you are. A weak person doesn’t fight like you do. You wake up everyday and you fight through the day, trying to win. And some days you lose, but you tried. A weak person doesn’t try like you do.”

Her black eyes watered up, but she refused to let the tears fall, so they stayed in her eyes, blurring her vision. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you just turn me in, get the throne? Why are you like this? Why are you nice to me? I’m practically blackmailing you so why are you nice to me?”

“A lot of reasons, Caterina. But the main one is I see myself in you, and when I was like you, I would’ve wanted a me.”

She didn’t hold back the tears anymore. When the flood ran down her cheeks, Thomas ran from the chair to the edge of the bed next to Caterina. As she cried into his shoulder, he petted the top of her head, letting out comforting hushes as he gently rocked her. “I don’t deserve you,” she mumbled through cries. “I really don’t.”

[alucywarner]

~♥ PRIVACY PLEASE ♥~

[So, that dealing got done. Woo-hoo. No one was caught, no parents walked in. Nope, these darn kids got away with it. And afterwards, an edging-on-hangry Carmen got herself some pizza. It’d all be very rom-com, if Carmen felt any romance at all, but alas.

Pizza was eaten, and separate rooms were probably taken again, and that’s when the parents got home who were none-the-wiser as to what took place on the couch while they were away. Hm. Don’t worry, Mr. Rivera. Your daughter is still the innocent angel you believe her to be. Everything is fine here. Nothing to see. 

No sign of Julian and Sophie before everyone else had turn into their own rooms, though, much to Carmen’s disappoint, because, really, the couple had been gone all day, and there was just little for Carmen to be excited about if she could underhandedly, or not-so-underhandedly flirt with Julian Harper. Nope, not even couch sex is gonna keep her excited enough to not be upset about the lack of flirtation with her future husband, because she truly felt like maybe he was flirting back, if even a little bit. (And why wouldn’t he? She was Carmen. She got who she wanted, my dude. iF SHE WANTED SOMEONE TO FLIRT, BY GOSH, THEY’D DO IT BACK.)

But again, no sign of the couple before everyone went on their own way for the night. And am I gonna deny that there is a strong chance that Jordan sneaked into Carmen’s room again? Because I don’t think I am. The boy is insatiable, okay? He can’t help it. Carmen Rivera was a siren sent for his destruction, but boy he loved every minute of it, and probably her i mean what. So, uh, yeah. There was probably a great big round-two. 

And just like before, he was dang kicked out as soon as all of that was over. Like, there will be no afterglow cuddles here, my boy. Go back to your own room, and don’t let me see your face until morning, got it? So, of course, he would never argue with her post-sex because he still had that fog flying around his brain, so that meant he left as instructed.

Try as Carmen may to fall asleep after he was gone, she undoubtedly had too high a heart-rate to be able to go to sleep quickly, and she sat there for what felt like ages, but was probably only about half-an-hour or so, just staring at the ceiling before she decided that she would just get up, stand on the balcony, and hope the sounds of the ocean could be lullaby enough to help her drift off into a niCE PEACFUL SLEEP.

So, off she went to the balcony, padding quietly as to not wake anyone up. (She figured everyone in the condo would be asleep by now, given that it was like, two in the morning.) But, hark, what’s this??? The balcony is already occupied by someone else??? Leaning against the railing and watching the stars and moon and prettiness???? Who ever could that be?]

You’re up late.

[He turns ever-so-not-gracefully around.] ‘Could say the same thing about you. [And it is clear that he’s cracked open a few cold ones with the boys tonight.]

Aha. You’re also drunk, aren’t you~?

Maybe jus’ a little.

I take it you had a fun night with your school friends then.

S’always fun to hang out with guys. 

I bet Sophie enjoyed herself a ton.

I take it she did since I carried her passed out self in earlier. Then again, she always has been a lightweight, so maybe not as much fun as I had.

Well, it’s nice that you had a good time. [So, she’s gonna go stand beside him and lean against the railing like he is, ya know.]

Did you have fun tonight? Alone with Magikarp, and everything? [Since I believe his fam would have told him they would be going out.]

[A quiet, breathy laugh at the drunken Julian still referring to Jordan as ‘Magikarp’.] It was fine.

Just fine?

I mean, he and I didn’t talk much. [Not a lie.]

Yeah. I figured that, actually, given the... not-talking sounds happening when Sophie and I got back.

... You came back during that, did you?

I seem to have impeccable timing. 

I figured you be... out for the rest of the night. Sorry. [Is that actually a bashful Carmen? Because it may just be.]

[There is a pause now, and all that can be heard is the sound of the crashing waves, because nah, nobody’s on the beach at 2 AM. Not on this part of the beach, anyway. But, if you listened really closely, you could hear the sounds of gears turning in a drunk man’s brain. From thinking too hard about something. 

But then we don’t have to worry about listening to gears turning, because, he’s back to talking, and interrupting the sound of the crashing waves, and all that.]

Can I ask you a question?

Uh, sure.

This may be a bit out of turn, but... just tell me if I’m overstepping.

Okay. [Confused, but like, curious.]

Jordan. Do you actually... I mean, I guess I just don’t... get it. Because... well, it just doesn’t... make sense?

What doesn’t make sense?

You and... him, and not-talking sounds. It’s not... I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying.

Yeah, same, actually. [Because, he’s like, super confusing her.]

It’s just... Do you... Do you actually like him, Carmen? Like, do you like Jordan?

[And then at least a little bit of something appears to dawn on her. Because this drunken tone does not read as concern for a little brother. Nope.] Depends on what you mean by ‘like’, Julian.

I mean, do you like him? Because it doesn’t make any sense to me. It really doesn’t. Jordan’s just... he’s... he’s fucking Magikarp, that’s all. And you dont’ seem like the type to go for Jordan.

Having sex with him doesn’t mean I like him, you know.

So, you’re saying you don’t?

If I do say that? What would you say?

Good. I’d say good. I think you’re way too good for him.

I actually aim my sights a bit higher than high school boys, usually~. 

Except in this case, right?

It occupies my time~.

Well... he’s lucky to be given that opportunity.

... Yeah?

‘Course. You’re... intelligent, witty, ambitious, kind... 

Oh, stop.

And... you’re beautiful.

[A mind screech, but a good one. So, she tilts her head like all the teen girls do when they’re trying too hard to be cute, ya know. There is a smile sliding across that evil face of hers.] I’m all of that~?

Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

[So, she’s bashful again, because, lbr, she’s got the feelings for Julian, so it’s not like when any other person has said that to her before. Because, by gosh, I’m sure she’s heard that one a few times in her life, but J u l i a n saying it. Oh, boy. It’s too much for her girly heart to take. Flutters abound here.

There is a bashful look at the ground, and she’s probably red, and her heart’s just goin nuts, my dude, and, again there’s only the crashing of the waves behind them, but she can’t hear it because her heart’s pounding in her ears. You know how it is. But then, she’s not looking at the ground anymore, because there is a finger lifting her chin, and oh geez, are we ready for more bad decision-making today?? Because someone’s about to make one. And it goes a lil something like this.]

[And, come on, even Carmen Rivera herself couldn’t have expected her schEME to come to a head so quickly. Yeah, sure, the alCOHOL helped along the way, but boy heckie, she had to put in the work to make the alcohol even be able to help. So, no, while she honestly hadn’t been expecting this in the least, oh dear, is she ever flying with purE JOY? 

That’s what it felt like. SOarinG, FLyiNGG. Because had she ever kissed someone that she actually had real romantic feelings for? And not just sEX FEELINGS? The answer to that one is a strong no. Definitely she had never been in this situation before. So, yes, this is totally a bad idea says Parrish, buT, that means nothing here in the land of a drunk Julian and a soaring, flying Carmen. BECAUSE. She’s definitely not stopping it. It’s not stopping on her watch.]

[So, it’s deepened, it’s more passion than Carmen’s ever thrown into any kiss in her whole life, and she’s had a lot of them. She’s making sure that that drunk brain of Julian’s knows that she’s in this one too. He ain’t alone in this kiss, boy. She wanTS IT. She’d go further if that’s what the dude wanted. JUST NAME IT, JULIAN HARPER, AND YOU CAN HAVE IT. 

And Mr. Fuzzy Brain is all-too-accepting of this. He’s all-too-immersed in this siren we call Carmen Rivera. Most of all, it’s dream-fulfillment, because without a doubt, even despite trying not to, you better believe the guy had somE kind of dream about kissing her after the morning after debacle. YoU BETTER BELIEVE IT. So, while the lady there is pushing ever-so-harder into this kiss, well, Mr. Married is allowing it. And not only is he allowing it, he’s contributing.]

[Oh, dear. The balcony is spinning, and Carmen isn’t even the drunk one. Nope, he’s just kissing her that silly right now. Not good, not good. 

Better believe there’s some attempts at progression here, because maybe there’s a Julian hand drifting somewhere that it probably shouldn’t, and bet Carmen’s (veRY DANGEROUSLY) pressed up against the railing right now, and beT HARDER that there’s some Julian LIPS drifting down to a neCK, freeing up Carmen’s mouth to do something like, I don’t know, let out a noise of satisfaction, or what-have-you.

And it is thaT noise that brings Julian back to reality. So, he pulls back, and there is a look of ‘SHIT’ on his face. He backs off, and he looks dazed af through that ‘shIT’.]

Carmen... I am so sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing. I--... I--... I’m just... gonna go inside now. Good night. 

[He starts in with the unrivaled speed of a guy that just drunkenly made out with someone that wasn’t his wife.] Julian, it’s [He’s already inside.] ... fine.

[And here we have poor Carmen, the homewrecker who just rly rly adores that Harper boy, left alone on that balcony hoping to gOD that maybe Julian won’t remember this tomorrow because, hoW EMBARRASSING WOULD THAT BE, RIGHT? Okay, the end. yay.]

[adiseaselikeyouspreads]

They start meeting just about every day after school, at Regan’s house. The first few times, it’s a lot of demonstrations and a lot of Jason getting knocked on his back. He’s sorer than he’s been since he finished his physical education requirements.

It’s still worth it, though. Both for knowing he’ll have a better chance of defending himself, and for when he successfully gets out of Regan’s grip and feels a swell of pride, earns a big grin.

“You’re a quick learner,” Regan compliments, when Jason manages to successfully counter a grapple. Jason’s top is drenched with sweat and Regan barely looks tired, so that’s still a problem, but Jason can already feel himself getting stronger.

“Or you’re a good teacher,” Jason counters, using his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead.

“Let’s go with both, then we can both feel good.”

Jason laughs a little. Over the course of the last week, he’s gotten increasingly comfortable with Regan. It’d been awkward to be around him without his binder on at first, but Regan hadn’t even seemed to note it. And it’s easy to get comfortable with someone who unquestioningly backs off when you call uncle in a sparring match.

“How long did it take you to get good at this?” Jason asks, going to get a sip of water.

“Well, I’ve been in sports on and off since I was pretty young.”

“So I’m as good as you were when you were eight?” He guesses.

“Pff. More like eleven.”

“That’s sooo much better.”

“Hey, if you keep up the good work, you’ll close the gap eventually.”

“Eventually,” Jason sighs. “Guess we should get back to work, then.”

The next day, he feels a bit like his arms are about to fall off. Lugging his backpack around all day is hellish. At least it’s a satisfying sort of burn. The kind he knows means he worked hard.

Still, he can’t help but be relieved that there’s no film club today. He gets picked up and dropped off at home and gets to flop down on the couch and just breathe. It’s a recovery day, so he’s going to do approximately nothing but watch T.V. Maybe study a little, if the news doesn’t stop popping on talking about the Camera Killer’s most recent video.

At least, that’d been the plan. His dad starts to fumble around in the kitchen, walks into the living room, back into the kitchen, then back out, juggling a number of files, floorplans, a thermos, his wallet, and his cellphone.  

“You alright there?” Jason asks, watching his dad struggle to sort through a couple papers.

“Yeah, just-” He checks his phone, quickly, then pulls some money out of his wallet and holds it out to Jason. “Some problem came up at the house I’m working on and I need to go check it out. Ask my contractor how it is going to affect the budget. I didn’t get to go grocery shopping, so just run down to the 7/11 and grab something. I’ll bring you late dinner when I get this worked out.”

“I…” Jason stares at the money, then looks up at his dad nervously.

His dad is confused for a second, and then the gears start turning. “Hey,” he says, sympathetically, “it’s only a fifteen minute walk there and back. I’ve got my phone on me, you’ve been doing your self defense stuff. Just make sure to go while it’s still light out.”

“Right…” Even though he takes the money, he doesn’t look too pleased about it.

“I’ll probably be home around eight,” his dad informs him before rushing out.

Jason puts it off for as long as he can, before he actually has to start worrying about the sun going down. Before he steps out the door, he messages Regan.

Jason: walking down to 7/11. let’s hope I don’t have to use my new skillset. :^/

Regan: you got this jj

Jason smiles a little at the nickname, wondering if he could make an equivalent for Regan. R.A.? No. That’s what you call the dorm advisor in college.

Regan: remember if a big guy comes at you, use his weight against him

Jason: what do I do if a small guy comes at me?

Regan: tell him you know dmitri and he’ll have to stop. short guy code

Regan: fr tho momentum is ur friend

Regan: hmm. maybe i should draft dmitri for short guy sparring practice

Jason: I feel like he would bite me.

Regan: he would definitely bite you

Jason: how would I explain that to my parents?

Regan: tell them ur new gf is kinky

Jason: I’m pretty sure that’s how you get grounded.

Talking with him is making this walk a lot less nerve-wracking. Constant communication, focusing on anything but his paranoia.

Regan: wat are you buying?

Jason: chips, probably. or ice cream.

Regan: bro

Jason: what?

Regan: bro youre trashing ur body

Jason: omfg. what healthy thing could i buy from 7/11!!

Regan: multigrain bar or some nuts

Jason: what swamp did your tastebuds crawl out of?

Jason: creature from the black legume.

Regan: dont diss legumes dude

Jason: I’m buying a slushie out of spite.

He walks into the store, hearing the jingle of the bell overhead. He’s got just enough to buy himself a slushie, a bag of chips, and a candy bar.

Jason: mission success- bought junk food without dying.

Regan: 🎉

Jason: now for the encore.

Jason steps out of the 7/11 and starts the short journey home. Drinking from his slushie makes texting a little harder, but he’s so got this.

Jason: so what’re you up to?

Regan: just got home from riley’s

Regan: gonna make myself a salad like a responsible teen

Jason: meanwhile I’ve got chocolate.

Regan: i should make a chocolate vinaigrette

Jason: you cook?

Regan: hell yeah dude

Regan: i dont know how to make a chocolate vinaigrette tho

Regan: that was a joke  

Regan: i guess i could look it up

Regan: i make a mean half moon pie i should make some for you sometime

Jason: I don’t know what that is but it has pie in it so I’m in.

He takes another big slurp of his drink and grins around his straw when Regan starts to ramble about how to make this dessert.

Then something is wrapped around his throat. A presence suddenly behind him, a taut rope wrapped around his neck, strong arms pulling back. Everything falls out of his hands when he yelps in surprise.

He wasn’t paying attention.

His mind races. Choking. How to- he tries to tuck his chin, but the rope is under it, that doesn’t help, this isn’t a choke hold.

The rope is digging in and up, any time he tries to get solid footing, another yank almost makes his feet almost leave the ground. He flails, elbows, grabs at the unknown assailant’s face. The more effort he exerts, the more his lungs scream in protest.

Unfortunately, he can’t do the same; his voice coming out rasped and restricted.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. None of Regan’s lessons prepared him for this.

He tries to dig his fingers under the rope, shift his weight to ease the pressure, throw off the attacker’s center of balance, but none of it works. His vision slowly gets dark around the edges. His brain is still on full panic, heart hammering rapidly. But his consciousness goes soft and for the second time in very few days, he blacks out.

Waking up this time isn’t like last time. It isn’t a slow climb out of a muddled state. It’s sharp, disorienting; he was in one place but now he’s in another.

And this place is very dark and this time there’s no Sidney kicking walls or silly harmless clocks.

There’s just frigid cold. Pale light coming in through high windows, casting long shadows. He can barely look around. He’s strapped to a chair. With mild horror, he realises it’s a dentist’s chair. Modified, his legs and arms bound. The bindings are tight. No silly amatuer stuff, no pulling at the right angle to get out. Fear seizes him. His stomach is doing flips.

He’s alone, for quite some time. He doesn’t know how long. The light outside is fading fast. He dropped his cellphone. What if the killer has it? What if he texts his friends, parents? No one will even know he’s missing. Not until tomorrow.

A door creaks from somewhere and he tries to twist and look, but his mobility is a little limited right now. There’s a sound of rolling wheels, along with heavy, booted footsteps.

“Hey,” Jason croaks, before he can even consider if it’s a good idea to speak.

“Mr. Joon-ho, you’re awake,” comes a low southern drawl from somewhere behind him. “I hope you had a nice nap, because we are going to be very busy.” The voice slowly rounds round until Jason can see its owner. It’s deep and rich, the kind of voice that would be soothing, if not for the fact that it is coming from behind what is clearly a mask of cured human skin.

The rest of his clothes look too normal. Jean jacket, plaid shirt...hunting gloves. He’s pushing a cart with what can only be described as an array of sharp tools on it.

That comes to a stop a good five feet away, but the man paces closer.

Jason can see his chapped lips and dark eyes through the rough cuts in the mask, hear his heavy, unfiltered breathing, imagining the humidity inside the mask; he feels nauseous, wants to cry.

“Let me out of here,” he demands, tries to sound insistent, but he knows how scared he sounds. He gets a laugh in return. A short one, a facsimile of politeness, like he’s chuckling at a dear friend’s witty joke.

“Bless your heart,” the killer says, and Jason’s skin itches. “Can’t do that, little buddy. You see, you’re a delicacy.” He plants a hand on Jason’s arm. “Surviving five murder attempts? That’s some kinda record. I’d love to let you marinate for a bit longer. Seen how you’ve been strengthening up. Would taste a lot better with some meat on you.”

His other gloved hand pats Jason’s face and Jason’s brain goes haywire as he realizes who this is. He jerks and tries to curl in on himself, but he can’t. He can’t protect his squishy middle bits from what this fucker is no doubt about to do to them.

“But let’s face it. You’re just a pit stop on my cross country tour. Can’t wait around any longer.” The Cannibal withdraws both his hands and taps his chin. “In fact-” And he’s moving back to that cart.

“Help!” Jason shouts, as loud as he can, jerking against his restraints. The sounds bounce uselessly off the walls.  

“Hey now,” the Cannibal says, turning around, walking back towards him with some nondescript item in his hand. Jason can only see the handle. “None of that. There’s no one out here, anyways. And you should save your voice. There will be plenty of time for screaming later.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, throat tight. Before he knows what happens, he feels a burst of pain. The Cannibal just punched him in the face with a meaty fist. His head is spinning.

“Watch your language,” the Cannibal comments, even voice turning acidic for just a second. Jason laughs as he feels the blood flow from his nose, tastes it on his lips. This guy’s about to carve him up like a Christmas ham and he doesn’t want to hear him swear. Incredible.

The object shifts from one of the Cannibal’s hands to the other and Jason can see, now, through skewed glasses, that it’s a potato peeler. Just a run of the mill potato peeler. His stomach sinks.

“Any gourmet worth his salt is always going to sample his ingredients,” the Cannibal jokes as he seems to test the sturdiness of the peeler against his glove.

“Why do you do this?” Jason asks.

The peeler halts. “I already told you you’re a delicacy. A rare treat.”

“No, why do you do this?! This sh- stuff, why do you-”

“Well aren’t you precious?” The Cannibal asks. “You still believe in motives.” He presses the peeler to the side of Jason’s face. When Jason tries to turn his head, the other hand comes to hold him still. “I do it because I want to, and because no one can stop me.”

The peeler doesn’t rake down fast. It digs in, and carves, slicing off a strip on his right cheek in a slow, agonizing pull. It hurts, sears, like the world’s worst rugburn.

He can’t help that it pulls chokes and sobs from him even when he grits his teeth.

The Cannibal releases his face and takes the strip of skin between two fingers. Jason can feel his pulse pounding in his cheek, can feel the fresh blood.

Without preamble, the Cannibal lifts the sliver to the hole in his mask and pops it in his mouth, like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just tear it off of someone. Jason gags.

“Sorry to say, squirt, but I’ve had better,” he jokes, wiping the peeler off on a handkerchief he draws out of his pocket. “I can work with you, though.”

The Cannibal returns to his cart.

“Please don’t do this,” Jason begs.

“I worked up quite an appetite bringing you all the way here,” he answers nonchalantly, while examining knives, like he’s trying to decide which one will do the best job.

There’s a very loud sound from outside the room.

Like the sound of a door being kicked in.

The Cannibal tilts his head, like one would when confused. His hand slides to a particularly large knife and he takes it up, walking towards the door.

“Stay right there, peaches,” he hisses, sounding less like his fake-polite persona and more like an angry serial killer.

He opens the door and peeks his head out. Almost immediately, there’s a gunshot. He hears the Cannibal grunt and stumble back, but not fall.

Another slamming sound, probably someone kicking the door the rest of the way open, then a second gunshot. This time, there is a solid thump as the Cannibal hits the floor. A third gunshot comes anyways, and then there’s quiet. If Jason strains his ears, he can hear the mechanical rasp of the Plague Doctor, breathing heavily.

Jason closes his eyes, tears welling up. He doesn’t want to be relieved. He doesn’t want to be relieved that they’re here, but he is.

“Are you in here?” They ask, after a moment.

“What took you so long?” Jason responds, voice shaking.

“This is a big place.” They walk over, footsteps more hurried than usual. It’s the tall one. When they see him, they stop. Jason wonders if it’s really that bad, or if all the blood is misleading. Instead of commenting, they use their free hand to undo Jason’s bindings. He can’t help but note that they’re holding Christian’s gun. He doesn’t want to think about it.

When he’s free, he rubs his wrists and sits up, slinging his legs off the side of the chair.

“Do you need me to call 911?” Funny. It’s the first time they’ve asked.

“Do I need stitches?” Jason returns.

“Probably.”

He sighs, and pushes himself to his feet, despite the tremors in his legs. “Alright.”

The Plague Doctor returns to the body of the Cannibal, crumpled in the corner, and searches him. He doesn’t have a phone of his own on him, but he does have Jason’s. So they hand the phone to him and he gets to dial the number himself.

“911 operator, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s Jason Joon-ho. I was kidnapped by the Cannibal. The Plague Doctor saved me, but I’m hurt. I’m currently in…”

“In Warehouse number fifteen,” the Plague Doctor informs him.

“Warehouse fifteen,” he repeats.

The Plague Doctor turns to go.

“That’s not your gun,” Jason finds himself saying, before he can stop himself. The Plague Doctor looks at Jason, then at their hand.

“Better in my hands than in one of theirs,” they state.

“Better in no one’s. Better if you leave it here.” Jason stays firm.

They test the weight of the gun, like they’re still unfamiliar with it.

“Hopefully we’ll reach the point where I can give it up, soon,” they say, lowering their arm. That gives Jason pause.

“How do you sleep at night, after doing shit like this?” He asks.

“With all my windows locked.” They leave.

The police and paramedics come and his brain sets on autopilot. He barely thinks. Even when his dad gathers him up in a tight hug and apologizes.

Getting home feels weirder than after the previous attacks. He goes to bed without eating. No appetite. And as he lies there, he thinks about how every other time, there’d been some sliver of a chance, some way he could’ve hoped to have gotten out. But this time, he really would’ve died without the Plague Doctor.