#I can barely follow a plot anyway (I know I’m an English teacher but this is low-key true slskskkdkd)

[itspileofgoodthings]

people love to be like “plot hole plot hole” and I’m just like “emotionally airtight to ME”

[writingabouteverything]

The Perfect White Flower--and Other Nonexistent Things

a/n YALL THIS IS PROBABLY DUMB BUT I HAD THIS IDEA ABOUT A HARRY STYLES X READER FIC THATS BASED ON THE PLOT OF JANE THE VIRGIN AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT SO BADLY I MADE THIS ACCOUNT

disclaimer--wont follow the show exactly 

Pairing: Harry Styles x latina! reader (a key factor of the show revolves around the lead being latina, and im latina and honestly love writing for us but anyone can still read and understand/hopefully enjoy and the fic doesn’t involve any physical descriptions:)) 

Series Summary: Y/n l/n has had the world figured out since she was a child. She won’t be a writer because it’s risky, she’ll just focus on school and becoming a teacher. She’s never been a child, because her mother had her at sixteen and hasn’t aged a single year since. That’s part of the reason the promise she made to her grandmother means so much to her--if she doesn’t have sex before marriage, her child will never have to grow up as quickly as she did. And Harry Styles is at the top of the world--his music has never been more successful, he has a lovely girlfriend, and he’s never been more in demand. He has everything in the world...except a child, and through a series of unbelievable events--y/n might be his only chance to have one. Ever. 

Chapter One Summary: Who knew getting a pap smear on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee was as bad as having unprotected sex? 

There’s something dangerous about taking public transportation in LA. And no, I don’t mean it in the ‘there are bad people in the world’ type of way. I mean it in the ‘I live in one of the casual influencer, celebrity, tourist hubs of the world and each time I step onto the bus I find myself mesmerized by all the stories I see in them’ way. Kind of pathetic, I know, but sometimes a child with blonde pig tails or a woman streaming on instagram live will catch my eye and the urge to pull out my lap top and start something I’ll never finish. 

I know that writing isn’t some kind of disease. But I can’t let myself fall in love with it the way I want to. There’s nothing wrong with writing a short story or two, but trying to write a novel? That’s impractical. It will distract me from school, from the four year plan I’m almost done with.

Sighing, I brave taking at my surroundings. I deserve this today, after the anonymous, rude costumer at the hotel today, I need positivity. No one is particularly inspiring. The bus stops and I watch out the window. At first the crowd is ordinary, and then i see them...paparazzi. Flashing cameras from all angles, grown men violating all rules of personal space. It never sits right with me, but I guess it’s just part of living in LA. The bus starts moving again. When it stops again, I see even more paparazzis, but their cameras aren’t flashing. Good for whoever escaped that. 

The bus door opens and I snap my attention back to my computer screen. I rub my eyes as I stare at my word document. How is there more that needs to be edited? This professor is the harshest grader I’ve ever had, and my friend, Gisa, is kind for giving me even more notes. But I’m exhausted. Two tests and an essay due before 12:00. And it’s...11:38. Great--I have to upload it the second I’m at my doctor’s office and have WiFi again. 

I spend some time highlighting and rewording sentences, and once I’m done I reward myself with more people watching because I deserve it and I can’t fall asleep here. I’m kind of invested in the girl live streaming her bus ride...maybe she’ll say her instagram handle. 

But when I look up, she’s not on the bus anymore. Almost no one is. An elderly couple is sitting towards the back. A woman with a toddler sit two rows in front of me...and there’s now a man directly across from me. I blink for a moment, imagining a story for someone who’s face I can’t quite see beneath such dark sun glasses. His dark waves and strong jaw do most of the imagining for me--he deserves a mystery, a dramatic one with a happy ending and just enough romance to keep the people interested. A good romance, too--not too sappy. Enemies to lovers, maybe. A mysterious stranger that’s not really a stranger because something about him is just...familiar. 

He turns his head and I drop my gaze immediately. There’s no doubt he caught that, but I still pretend to edit the title of my essay. “You’ve been typing stubbornly since I first got on the bus.” There’s an accent--of course he’s english. But it’s more than that, I’ve heard that voice before. I’ve been...soothed by it. And--oh my god, I’m sitting across from Harry Styles.

Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t freak him out. He’s probably on here to escape the the whole ‘oh my god, you’re Harry Styles!’ thing.  

“What are you writing?” Harry Styles just spoke to me. I greeted my one direction poster every single day in middle school, and Harry Styles just spoke to me. Okay--relax, breathe--it’s only weird if you make it weird. 

There’s a kind of curt curiosity to his question. He could have been ruder, considering how blatantly I was staring at him. “I um...an essay.” I’m temped to turn the screen so that he can see I’m telling the truth. Though he wasn’t hostile, a part of me is paranoid that he thinks I am writing about him. It’s a fair assumption, for all he knows I’m drafting a tweet about who I saw on the bus this morning or preparing to send something in to some gossip girl-esque blog. “It’s due today at noon and normally I’m way more on top of things, but I had this last minute doctor’s appointment rescheduling because my usual doctor is out of town and--” I cut myself off before I can tell Harry Styles that I’m ovulating and that if I don’t go to my OBGYN now, I have to wait an entire month and I’ve already been off birth control longer than I’d like. I might not have actual sex in my near future, but my cramps have been extra terrible. “An essay, I just finished an essay.”

He nods once. Maybe he feels bad for so thoroughly startling me into such a rambling, because the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. A soft smile adds even more grace to his features, I focus on the dimple that appears in his cheek. “An aggravating essay, I take it, considering the death glares you’ve been giving your laptop screen.”

I smile at his polite humor. “It’s for the harshest grader on campus. She took three points off of my first essay freshman year because I spaced my bibliography wrong.” 

He cringes in sympathy. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” I hum, proud of myself for not letting him know that I know who he is. The bus stops, I can see my doctor’s office behind a few paparazzi. “This is my stop.” 

Harry nods once, ducking his head slightly. A tiny part of me feels sympathy for him; from what I’ve gathered, he genuinely loves his fans and the relationship they have, but it must be draining to never have a moment of privacy. Especially when it’s people who care more about selling your picture than your mental health. 

I linger on the bus’s step, watching the men with large cameras look around. “Excuse me, are you guys looking for Harry Styles?” Most of the men disregard me, but one looks at me. “I know he’s near here because I’m a really big fan and my friend just texted that she saw him.” This gets me the attention I wanted. “He’s at Northfield--a cafe like three blocks down. I just know that if she got a picture with Harry in like a magazine or something she’d totally lose it--in a good way, and she’s been having a bad time so if you see her can you try to make it happen? Knowing her she’ll be at his side, she’s blonde, shortish hair.” 

The men seem skeptical, but I guess they realize that this is the best lead they have. I think the fact that I gave a reason to justify selling Harry out for no reason helped. They disperse together, heading at least three blocks away from Harry. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped him, but I hope I have. 

“Essay girl.” I freeze, half cringing. Did he hear that? That’s embarrassing. I consider darting away, but decide that would just make me cringe more. So I turn on my heels. “You...you forgot your phone.” 

He just saved my life. “Thank you.” I take my phone from his outstretched hand, ignoring the slight thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush. “You’re my hero--the last thing I needed today was to run all over the city searching for my phone.” I finish the awkward admission with a partial laugh. 

“Least I could do,” he mumbles, “especially considering what you just did.” 

...He did see that. “Oh um--it was nothing, I just kind of made a connection and assumed the only reason you’d be on a public bus is because you were trying to avoid some things, and you make really great music and a lot of people happy, so you deserve that break.” Why does it feel like I’ve been talking forever? “Anyways, thanks for the whole phone thing, and I hope I got them off your tail.” 

My joke seems to somewhat land. His lips part, like he’s planning on saying something else. A timer on my phone interrupts him. I instinctually look down--great, the alarm on my phone warning me that I’m only ten minutes away from being late. “I’m late.” I turn towards the bus’s exit. “I gotta go, but thanks again, and I hope you have a good day.” 

I disappear after that, still not sure that that whole thing wasn’t some kind of hallucination. Did I just meet Harry Styles? He...he gave me my phone. Harry Styles has touched my phone. I can’t wait to tell Gisa, she’ll lose it.

I’m still thinking about Harry Styles when I finally reach my OBGYN’s office. When I get there, things are a lot more hectic than I thought they’d be. Many people crowd the waiting area and the receptionist’s desk is clearly understaffed. Two young girls are trying to address multiple upset pregnant women and take phone calls at the same time, all while practically buried in a sea pf paperwork. Wow, I didn’t realize that transferring was such chaos. One of the girls waves me over and barely checks my name before shoving a form towards me. I fill out as quickly as possible. 

 I upload my essay quickly after checking in. Who knows, maybe Harry Styles’s blessing will get me an A? A third person in scrubs emerges from the back after a moment and ushers me into a room. I tell myself to focus on going over the facts I need for the test I have to take in a little over an hour. Or to focus on the fact that I just met Harry Styles. But instead, I feel my heavy eyelids fall shut. 

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know that I wake up during the middle of a doctor’s sentence, “...I know I’m not your usual, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” 

“Hm...Yeah, yeah I’m comfortable.” She nods once, her wide eyes slightly red. “But I do have a class today in like an hour, so I was wondering if this was going to take longer because of the office’s move?” 

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Just because Dr. Rodriguez gave us no notice before deciding that she no longer wanted to work here...or in the country. Or even live in the US, despite the fact that we just signed a lease on a place together...” Tears well in the stranger’s eyes, pity settles in my stomach. 

“That sounds incredibly complicated, I didn’t mean to rush you.” 

She blinks twice, her expression blanking as she fights against the pain of what’s clearly a terrible break up. “No, no--you have every right. Today is your day and if..honestly, if you’re strong enough to go to a class after this, and do what you’re about to do by yourself, then I’m strong enough to get through today.” 

Um...didn’t realize a pap smear counted as something that needs moral support, but I’ll chalk it up to her heightened emotions. “Thanks.” 

She snaps on her medical gloves. “No, thank you for your patience. Now lay down.” 

I do as told, preparing for a sensation I haven’t often experienced. A moment passes and I know she’s started. She’s moving away from me much faster than expected. Oh--I guess pap smears are a lot shorter than I expected. 

“That’s it?” 

“Yep,” she hums, pulling her gloves off. “Now just take it easy, and hydrate.”

Weird...but that’s like general doctor advice. “Thanks!” 

--

I’ve never wanted to keep a secret from Gisa, but sometimes I really regret telling her I met Harry Styles. It’s been almost a month and I find my mind wandering back to the moment in which our fingers brushed more than I should. Sometimes I let myself wonder what he might have said if my phone hadn’t rang. I was probably just imagining the way his lips parted, but my ind refuses to let it go. 

“...You know it’s kind of sad, I read an interview in which he spoke about the fact that he has some genetic condition that makes it hard to have kids. He has so many godchildren, and I feel like he’d make such a great father.” 

I try to keep up with Gisa’s words, but the dull ache in my head makes it feel so far away. “Yeah...he seemed really patient.” 

Gisa nods, turning to face me. “You alright, you’re looking kinda green?” 

“Yeah...” I reach for my canvas bag. “I think I just...I probably just need some water.” 

My hand grazes the metal of my water bottle and then the corners of my vision blur into blackness. I sway, Gisa’s hand is on my shoulder...and then it all goes black. 

--

I sit uncomfortably on the hospital’s cot. Gisa is a traitor for telling my mom that I fainted. I knew she’d just drag me here--hispanic mothers, they either believe they can cure you with vic’s vapor rub or they want you in the ER. No in between. 

“I know you didn’t want another test, but you’ve been throwing up in the morning for days and now you’re fainting.” 

“Fainted,” I correct, “it happened once.” 

“C’mon, mija, it’s just one doctor’s appointment.” 

Speaking of, an ER nurse returns. “Fainting and nausea spells explained,” he says, glancing at his clipboard, “you’re pregnant.” 

My mom and I can’t help but exchange a look before bursting into laughter. Pregnant. If I’m pregnant then the second coming is here. “That’s impossible, I’m a virgin.” 

He glances at my mom, “maybe we should have this conversation in private.” 

“No, what you say in front of me you can say in front of my mom.” 

My mom raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, did you and that guy from your english class--” 

“No! No, we did not. I am a virgin and there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I glare at the nurse. 

He then ushers me to a bathroom so that I can provide a urine sample. After I’m finished, he shows me a pregnancy test strip. “Pink means pregnant.” I bite my tongue as he tests the strip in my sample. He pulls it out and it’s...it’s bright pink.

“I’m calling my doctor, because this has to be a mistake. It has to be like a hormonal thing.” 

“Exactly, pregnancy hormones.” 

I glare even harder, calling the doctor that I saw last week. “Hello, Dr. Ash? I was wondering if I could get a consultation because I’m in the ER and some crazy doctor is trying to tell me I’m pregnant.” 

Silence on the line for a long second. “...I actually cleared my calendar for you.” 

[beomglocks]

unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: zero, ,,,next chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you're forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 3.3K

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵

"yeonjun you're late...again," your history teacher sighs. you watch as choi yeonjun strolls into class like normal. "sorry teach, i didn't really wanna come."

yeonjun is the school's heartthrob. everyone likes him, at least you think everyone likes him. you wouldn't say you like him but you can see why people would. he's an asshole but a cute asshole. he really doesn't care for his studies and treats people like they owe him something.

you roll your eyes at his answer and decide to focus on the roll call for when your name is called. "choi soobin?" you see a boy with purple hair raise his hand silently. you hear yeonjun snicker from the back of the class. you watch soobin turn around to glare at the other.

"something funny choi?" he seethes. yeonjun raises an eyebrow at soobin, leaning forward in his seat, "yeah something sure is funny."

soobin gets out of his seat and strides up to yeonjun's seat, easily towering over the boy. he grabs the collar of yeonjun's hoodie and lifts him up so that he's standing face to face.

"why don't you laugh in my face then?" soobin challenges. yeonjun looks bored, not even the slightest intimidated by the taller boy.

"ha. ha .ha." he annunciates each word mockingly, smiling in soobin's face.

the next thing you know the two boys are the floor fighting one another. "hey hey hey!" your teacher runs from the front of the class to the back to break up the fight. there's already a small crowd around them and no one seems adamant on helping break the fight up.

the thing is, choi soobin and choi yeonjun are known to fight a lot. you're not sure why they hate each other so much but every time they're near each other fists start flying. who thought putting these two in a class together was a good idea.

soobin was a quiet boy, everyone knew that. somedays he'd come dressed like the fluffiest cat you'd ever seen and sometimes he'd dress like a total greaser. he could just switch up like that; just like his attitude. he was nice, from what you knew he would always participate in extracurricular activities and charity events around the school. however, because people thought he was soft they would always mess with him. he was always able to hold his own though.

"hey break it up!" you hear your teacher shout. the two boys were in their own minds continuously throwing punches at each other. you were still sat at your desk, not really caring for fights between two stupid alpha males.

your teacher somehow manages to pull soobin from yeonjun and hold him back while a friend of yeonjun's holds him back as well. both boys have a good amount of blood on their faces so you can't really tell who won.

"you're fucking weak soobs! that shit barely hurt," yeonjun teases. he has blood trailing down his hairline from when soobin pushed him to the ground and blood on his nose and around his pouty lips. "bold talk for someone who just got their ass beat," soobin spits. he too has blood on his nose and lips but he's also sporting a cut on his cheekbone, yeonjun must've scratched his face.

"enough! yeonjun go to the nurse's room to get fixed up and soobin straight to the principal's office, you'll go to nurse after he's done, you hear me!" your history teacher orders. you watch her look around the room for someone suitable enough to escort yeonjun to the nurse's office.

you silently pray that she doesn't pick on you but seeing as you were the only one not interested in the drama, her eyes fall on you. "y/n please escort yeonjun to the nurse's office, i frankly don't trust him to actually go there on his own."

you curse at her in your mind but stand up anyways. "no problem," you force a light smile.

you and yeonjun leave the class ahead of soobin. as you're walking down the hallway, you glance at yeonjun. he doesn't look angry, if anything he looks calm. "i know i'm hot but stop staring at me," he looks down at you.

you roll your eyes at him. "do you not talk? come to think of it... i didn't even know you were in my class," yeonjun looks at you quizically but with curiosity in his eyes. you know that if you don't answer him he'll keep pestering you. "we've been in the same class for the past four years," you mutter.

you can feel his eyes on you but thankfully he doesn't say anything. while you two are walking through the halls you see a boy on the floor playing with something. "what's that kid doing over there?" yeonjun asks. he's already starting to walk away from you but you grab his sweater.

"sorry yeonjun but our only destination is the nurse's office," you say to him. he looks at you with his eyes narrowed down at where you're grabbing him. you stumble back as he yanks his arm away from your grasp, striding towards the boy. you huff following him.

"hey loser, what you got there?" yeonjun looks down at the boy. the boy turns around with confusion laced on his features. he sighs, "what do you want?" he pouts.

when you reach the boy you recognize him as choi beomgyu. the kid is smart but only when he wants to be. he's in your science class and is always messing around and not actually ever doing the work. either that or he skips class to run off and experiment with random things. he's a nice guy and you sometimes ask him for help during labs since he's probably the smartest kid in your class.

"hey beomgyu, what's up?" you greet him. he turns towards you and smiles warmly. "hey y/n," yeonjun looks between the both of you and rolls his eyes. "what the hell are you doing with one of the baseball teams bats?"

beomgyu moves the bat behind him and glares at yeonjun, "i was just curious as to what makes it so hard-hitting. i've been craving my way into it but can't seem to get too far."

you crouch next to him, "maybe you should've picked up one of the metal ones. i'm pretty sure the wood ones only have wood in them. though i heard they're made with bamboo so," you shrug. beomgyu stares at you silently.

"y-yeah you're probably right...thanks y/n," beomgyu snaps out of his daze and pockets the butterfly knife he was previously using. yeonjun tsks, "cmon y/n, let's go i already lost interest." yeonjun pulls you along as you watch beomgyu wave and head to the auditorium.

"god why did we have to take the long route this is fucking boring," yeonjun complains. you sigh, hoping he'll shut up already. "do you ever not talk?" you ask him. you both are too busy glaring at each other that you don't see when someone bumps into you.

the person drops the pile of books they were holding in their hands. "ah shit," they mumble. you snap out of glaring at yeonjun to see a boy on the floor with books scattered around him. "shit im sorry! i should've been looking at where i was going," you apologize kneeling down to help the boy pick up his books.

"oh don't worry i shouldn't have taken up carrying so many books to the point where i couldn't see!" the boy's voice is so cheerful it makes you smile. you're glad he's not mad at you.

the boy is really cute too. his boyish features suit his face well and his hair is messy but looks like he stylized it that way. he's dressed comfortably in a huge sweater and baggy jeans with a molang keychain attached to one of the belt loops.

"where are you even going with all these books?" you ask. "i offered to take these back to the library for my english teacher, in hindsight i really should've just taken two or three not the whole stack." he chuckles sheepishly. he gets up, picking up as many as he can.

you pick up the rest and set them on top of the already tall stack lightly. "well good luck," you pat the stack in encouragement and it makes him lean forward a bit. he thanks you and makes his way down the hall once again.

you turn to yeonjun who was leaning against the wall watching you. "seeing you being nice to everyone is making me want to choke," he grimaces. "take notes choi."

it felt like forever since you arrived at the nurse's office. walking with yeonjun was really torture to you since he wouldn't shut up about how amazing he thinks he is.

once you walk in you both notice that the nurse isn't at her usual place at the front desk. "she went out to get more ice from the cafeteria," you hear someone speak. you both turn around and see a boy sat on one of the cots the nurse sets up for people who injure themselves.

the boy is kang taehyun, member of the baseball team. "hey tae!" yeonjun greets. taehyun raises his brow and moves the now melted ice bag from his wrist. "what's got you in here?" yeonjun asks sitting on the cot across from taehyun.

"i'd rather you not act like we're friends," taehyun states calmly. "but if you must know, i was practicing my swings and got a little too caught up. i barely noticed that i sprained my wrist." he looks down at his wrist which is slightly swollen.

kang taehyun was the baseball team's most prized possession. they really did cherish him because he was the ace of the team. he always scored home runs and when he was pitching, he always managed to get the batter to strike out. he was really talented no one could deny that. despite his hard work on the field, he was dedicated to his studies and was always at the top of all his classes. you wondered how he felt about spraining possibly the most important part of his body.

"damn, that must suck," yeonjun states, he doesn't sound apologetic at all and you wonder how that guy could have any friends. "im just here to get patched and cleaned up because that dickhead soobin decided this was fight club," he tsks. taehyun chuckles, "hope he knocked some sense into you." yeonjun rolls his eyes.

taehyun finally notices your presence by the front desk and motions you over to them by the cots. he's friendly but not someone you'd normally hang out with. "you don't look hurt?" he chides. you point to yeonjun, "i was asked to bring him here since our teacher didn't trust him to come here and well, actually arrive. since the nurse isn't here im guessing I'll have to stick around in case he tries to escape."

taehyun chuckles, "makes sense."

the room is quiet for a couple of moments, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. you feel awkward being around two of the biggest names at your school. yeonjun is sprawled out on the cot and taehyun is still cradling his wrist. "uh...when do you think the nurse will be here?" you ask quietly.

taehyun looks up at you, "well when you got here it had been about 15 minutes since she left. she probably took a detour or something?" you nod looking at his wrist once again. "you should probably wrap that in a gauze, it'll help with the swelling," you suggest. he smiles at you, "thanks...uh?"

"y/n"

"right thanks y/n," he stands up and walks over to the cabinet to find the gauze wrap. in the meantime, you turn to yeonjun. it looks like he's sleeping but being in a class with him for 4 years has taught you better. "yeonjun."

he doesn't move. "yeonjun get up, i know you're not sleeping," you try. he sits up with a groan, "what do you want? i barely know you." for some reason you feel rage bubble up inside of you. you're not sure why either. usually, you were fine with not being noticed by the "so-called" popular kids but because of yeonjun, you were stuck in the nurse's office watching over him like a babysitter.

"why the hell did you fight soobin? if it wasn't for you i wouldn't be here talking to you right now," you say through gritted teeth. yeonjun raises an accusing brow at you, "were you not watching the fight? he threw the first punch for fucks sake." "you provoked him," you retort.

"it's not my fault he's dumb, god do i have to take responsibility for that too?" he groans laying back down on the cot. you eye him but decide to leave the conversation at that.

after your mini argument with yeonjun, you see taehyun return with the gauzes already wrapped around his wrist. "this is much better," he smiles down at his wrist. "glad i could help," you smile at him.

silence falls upon you three again until you hear a groan from outside. it doesn't really sound like a groan a human could possibly make, it sounds way to pained and low. "what was that?" taehyun asks. you shrug, "it might be the nurse." you walk over to the door and take a look outside.

the hallways on both sides are dimly lit and desolate. you can't really see down the hall because it just fades to black. you walk back inside the nurse's office. "there's no one out there and honestly, it looks way too cree-," you're cut off as a shrill scream rips through your conversation.

yeonjun sits straight up this time, "what the hell was that?" taehyun's eyes are wide with alarm, "that scream did not sound like a happy scream."

your eyes dart back and forth from yeonjun to taehyun. "i swear when i looked outside there was nothing," you say hurriedly. you're not sure why you feel panicked but you do. "check again," yeonjun tells you. you want to tell him 'no' or 'do it yourself' but you were the one to check first so you figure a second check done by you is only fair.

sighing, you walk to the door once again and look into the halls. for the second time, you don't see anything except for the darkness of the long hallways but you peer further and notice something.

all the way near the end of the hallway you see the nurse running towards her office. "hey i see the nurse," you call out to the boys. they make noises of acknowledgment and you hear yeonjun mumble a 'finally'. you keep watching her but you notice that she's running quite frantically to be considered normal. you don't say anything watching her run towards the office with confusion laced on your face.

that's when you see it. you see a figure running almost at the same speed as her but with more of a limp in their step. that's when you can hear the groaning more clearly but it's not coming from the nurse, its coming from the figure behind her.

the nurse makes the fatal mistake of tripping over her heels because she's running so wildly. her body slides a couple of feet from the door but she struggles to stand. she looks up at you and you can see that she has sweat and blood all over her face and her hair is unruly and matted.

"h-help me please!" she calls out to you. your heart is beating intensely. you don't know why she looks like this but you want to help. "y/n?" you hear taehyun call out to you. "what's going on out there?"

you bite your lip and decide to help her but as soon as you step out of the office the limping figure lurches forward and pounces on the nurse's idle body on the floor. you let out a horrified scream and step back. you can see the 'limping figure' clearer now and it seems to be one of the lunch ladies.

the only thing was that she didn't look the way she did when she served you breakfast this morning. her skin was pale and her veins were strangely very visible throughout her face and arms. her uniform was tattered and ripped as if a struggle of some sort had taken place. her face had deep scratches that had drying blood pouring out of them. her eyes were not warm, they seemed to be greyed out and she seemed very rabid.

you stood there, horrified, as the lunch lady tore through the nurse's clothes and body. you wanted to throw up as a bit of the nurse's blood was unintentionally launched at you. the lunch lady dipped her head down to use her teeth to devour the nurse's flesh in cold blood. you couldn't even rack up a sob.

it was like something out of a horror movie. except this was real life.

before the lunch lady could even finish eating the nurse, you watched as the nurse's body convulsed and thrashed violently before standing up on her own. her head was hung low and she seriously smelled disgusting.

you felt stuck as you watched both women stumble towards you before breaking out in full sprints. you flinched and shut your eyes tightly as you waited for your life to flash before them. it really felt like at any moment you would find yourself being eaten alive and convulsing into whatever monster that was.

but the feeling never came. instead, you felt your body crash against taehyun's on the floor. the only thing you could hear was the door slam shut and the screeching and groaning of whatever the hell those people were outside as they tried to get through the door.

you opened your eyes slowly and noticed that yeonjun was to one to slam the door shut, it seems like taehyun had pulled you inside.

taehyun groaned, moving to stand, "what the hell was that?" you shook your head, now having time to process what you saw. "she ate her...s-she- her body," you couldn't even finish explaining as you broke out in tears. taehyun ran a soothing hand up and down your back.

yeonjun moved away from the door. there was a tiny window on the door so you guys could see that the monsters were still trying to get in. "what the hell are we gonna do! if we go outside they'll tear us to shreds!" yeonjun too had tears streaming down his face. you have to admit you'd never seen him so vulnerable.

taehyun was the only one not crying. you could see tears in his wide eyes but they never fell. you figured he was trying to be the strong stable one in the group right now. "ok guys lets calm down. we don't know if we're the only people alive so we need to be careful." taehyun explains.

you do really feel bad for him right now. you know he's a year younger than you and yeonjun and him having to be the 'leader' at this moment must be tough.

he sighs looking at the both of you. "if we wanna make it out of here alive...we're gonna have to fight."

[heckyeahponyscans]

Yeloli Watch Party!

Episode 4: Am I a Super Hero?

English translation

Previously, Mary lost her math notebook and her horrible teacher was about to shame her.  We pick up right where we left off, with Mary, tears welling, shuffling towards the front of the class.

Last week I noticed Mary had a jellybean in her backpack and didn’t think much of it other than “oh, nice background detail.” Little did I know that the jellybean . . . was a plot point!

The jellybean glows and . . . turns into Mary’s math notebook!  After a moment Shelly glances over and notices it.  “Isn’t this your notebook, Mary?”  

Mean Teacher says “Next time find it sooner” but accepts the notebook, and Mary returns to her seat, thrilled and relieved.

The next day the teacher hands back the corrected assignments. Only three students got perfect scores: Sean, Shelly, and . . . Mary!

Sidenote: Sean is wearing an electronic earpiece, maybe a hearing aid?

Okay, back to this earth-shattering surprise!  Mary is floored by her perfect score was unsure about several of the answers on this assignment and, as we’ve previously learned, is bad at academics in general.  She gets rare praise from Horrible Teacher Man, which buoys her mood even more.

But when she gets her notebook back, she’s surprised to find some of her answers have been CHANGED.  Who did it?  Is someone helping her?

She puzzles about it for a bit before putting her notebook in her bag--where, unbeknownst to her, it turns into a jellybean again!

After math class is P.E. (physical education), where the class has to run laps.

Mary and the kid behind her, who I feel bad about calling “the fat kid” but they haven’t said his name even once and I have to differentiate him from the other kids SOMEhow, agree to run together, because they’re both slow.  

Let’s call him Peter until we get an official name.

As I’ve mentioned before, the running looks funny / odd.

But anyway, Mary and Peter stumble along the course. After getting lapped by the fastest kid (Bandaid Boy), Peter decides he’s sick of running.  He’s going to hide behind a statue, wait until just before the end of class, and then complete the last lap. The teacher will never notice!

Now personally I think this is a brilliant plan, but Mary disagrees.  Her mother told her winning wasn’t the important thing, the important thing is to try your best.  So while Peter hides, Mary keeps running.

She gets lapped by the rest of the class, including Mean Girl, who of course takes the time to razz Mary. “Are you a turtle? Mary, you're not very pretty, you're not very smart, you're bad at sports, and your family is poor. If I were you, I would be ashamed to leave the house.”

WOW.  Even Gary Oak wasn’t quite this bad.

Mary stops in her tracks to glare after Mean Girl as she pulls ahead.

“Even though I'm not very smart, I always do my best! Sooner or later, I'll be good at something. I am sure!” she thinks.

And back in the classroom, the jellybean glows . . .

And Mary’s plain, worn white shoes turn into rad pink running shoes!

The shoes let her run ridiculously fast, and soon she has not only caught up with the rest of the class, but is neck-in-neck with Bandaid Boy, the athletic kid. Bandaid Boy summons one final effort and comes in first, barely.

Soon he and the rest of the class are congratulating Mary, except Mean Girl who asks if she’s been “taking” something, like she thinks there’s a middle school doping ring going on.  Mary is happy but confused and says she doesn’t know how she ran so fast.  When she looks down, she is wearing her old, scuffed white shoes again.

With the school day at an end, Mary sits down and reflects on the weird events of the day.  “It’s like someone was using magic to help me.”

Now here’s where the episode surprised me.  I thought the evil woman in black had been using magic to spy on Mary and grant her wishes so she could swoop in and tempt her again.  After all, these were wishes her magic gems could grant--making Mary smart and good at sports.

Instead the jellybean floats out of the bag and turns into Loli, who’s like, “It was MEEEE!”

Flashback to Mary saying Loli couldn’t go to school with her and Loli turning herself into a . . . gem? (okay, it wasn’t a jellybean, it was a gem) and sneaking into Mary’s backpack.  She made Mary’s math notebook appear and corrected the answers, then enchanted Mary’s sneakers to make her super fast.

Loli fails to notice Mary looking increasingly betrayed and upset as she says all this and is like “Yeah! I did a great job, right?”

Upset, Mary tells her never to do that again.  Loli is confused.  Didn’t it make Mary happy, getting her wishes granted?

Mary replies that she was happy . . . when she thought she was succeeding through her own efforts, not doll-generated superpowers.  (And if it seems kind of obvious that something was up, well, Mary is canonically kinda dense . . . Shelly was side-eyeing the hell out of the desk after the notebook magically appeared in a pile of papers Mary had already looked through ten times. And meanwhile Mary was just like “I guess I didn’t look hard enough :) :) :)”.)

Loli finally Gets It and agrees to respect Mary’s wishes.  She recounts how the doll shop is full of fairies-turned-lifeless-dolls who can only regain life if a child loves them--essentially hinting that she was trying to impress Mary.

She also reveals that she’d seen Mary before she came to the shop (through magic fairy powers, I guess) and been impressed by her kindness and gentleness.  Loli was the one who caused the magic petals to lead Mary to the doll shop.

With the two seeing eye to eye again, Mary says she wants to keep improving and someday be as good as Shelly.  Shelly is a top student and top athlete, and Mary greatly admires her.

“But for some reason,” Mary says, “she always seems very lonely.”

We cut to Shelly, who is making her way out of the school as all her schoolmates invite each other over to play and make plans.  She’s envious them; they have time to play and socialize, while her after-school routine involves more studying.

The driver is waiting outside, but as Mary walks towards it, Peter--who is hanging with Mean Girl and her lackey--calls out, inviting her to join them for ice cream.

I am FLOORED to learn that Mean Girl hangs out with Peter after school.  (My theory is she either solely torments Mary or else she just likes to have other people around to pick on.)

Shelly is instantly like “OMG, ice cream sounds so good!!”, but the driver is all, “Miss Shelly, don’t forget you have piano lessons, followed by five other extracurriculars”, and she reluctantly declines the invitation.

Mean Girl, being just The Worst, says, “She thinks that because she's pretty, she can look down on us.Am I right or am I right?” and her lackey agrees, noting, “she has her own driver, and is so privileged.  Meanwhile Peter is just like :( .  You’re a nice kid, Peter.

Meanwhile Mary is in the car, watching her happy classmates through the window and feeling depressed.  She asks the driver not to pick her up or bring her to school anymore.

But he’s like, “So you want your parents to FIRE me?”

No, Shelly says, she just wants to socialize with her peers after school.

The driver reminds her that she’s on “a very tight schedule” with her billion extracurriculars, because her parents are clearly That Kind, and says she would never get to them in time without being rushed to and fro in the car.

Shelly acquiesces, resigning herself to a lonely childhood, when suddenly . . . petals!  Petals in the car, despite the closed windows!

Shelly calls to the driver to stop the car and she jumps out.  She’s got to see where the petals are coming from!  And she heads down a familiar, narrow alley . . .  

[lxveshotaro]

Focus - Na Jaemin (Long Version)

Warnings: Sub! Jaemin, Dom! Reader, Orgasm Denial

Plot: Its hard to focus on your work when all you want is pleasure.

A/N: This plot was too good to pass up on tbh. Here's the shorter version of this. I also have a short version of this which I wrote first.

"Nice of you to actually show up." You had been waiting a while for your close friend Jaemin to come over. He had an oral examination coming up for his English class. You being fluent in English decided to help him out. "I'm not even that late Y/N." You smiled at him and took in a deep breath, "Yes you are. We scheduled for 1, it's 4." He shrugged his shoulders, he knew you wouldn't be busy and he honestly doesn't care about your timing.

"Okay so what kinds of things will be on the exam?" He walked over to the table and put his bag down before shuffling through it. "My teacher gave me these flash cards to learn off of, can you just go over these with me?" You nodded, this would be easier than you thought, hint hint, thought. You grabbed the flash cards out of his hand and sat down on the couch. He just stood there and watched you go through the cards.

Jaemin always thought you looked so beautiful while you were focused on something. You interrupted his thoughts by talking, "Come on Jaemin. You've wasted enough time." He was slightly offended and he squinted his eyes at you but he came over anyways. You sat with one leg under you and you leaned against the arm rest of the couch. Jaemin sat right next to you. "Okay I'll show you the word and you pronounce it and tell me the meaning." He hated how thorough you were being with everything.

After a while of going along with what you were saying he got restless. "Jaemin. Pay attention." He was playing on his phone and ignoring you. "Jaemin seriously." He sighed, "It's an oral exam, why do I have to explain the definition?" You rolled your eyes, "You're smart and your English is really good, I know you can tell me the definitions so I think you should practice this. You'll be prepared for the next test because I'm making you do this. "Come on, what is this word?" He still didn't want to respond. He flopped over onto the arm rest, "Stop being so dramatic and answer the damn question. You asked me for help and now you don't even want to cooperate."

He loved how frustrated you got with him, it was amusing to him. "I can't learn this way anymore. Teach me differently. I can't focus like this." He scooted over to you and put a hand on your thigh. He smirked at you but you shook your head. "You need to learn this." Jaemin never listens so it's not a surprise that he started kissing your legs.

You and Jaemin are in sort of a friends with benefits type of situation. Its not that you guys can't date because you can and kind of are. You guys just don't call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. When you started this whole thing with him it was because you liked each other and were both horny one day, it just happened that way. Since then you've committed to fucking each other. You literally are his girlfriend without the title. Neither of you go out with other people. It doesn't make sense why you guys do that but it's just the way it is.

"Stop being a little slut and pay attention." He loved being degraded, especially by you. "But I'm tired of doing my work. Let's have fun." He was always so shameless. He started to grind against the couch as he licked and kissed your thigh. You grabbed him by his hair, "Why are you so bad at listening?" You tugged on his hair and pulled him up onto his knees. "I'm going to teach you like you asked me to." You removed your bottoms, "Take yours off too." Jaemin looked so excited about this but you weren't going to let his excitement last for long.

You pushed him back onto the couch and you climbed over his lap. You didn't sit down though, you just hovered there and picked up the flash cards again. You showed him the flash card again, "What does it say?" He looked at the card and then looked at you, "Come on Y/N don't be like this." You ignored him, "What does the card say Jaemin?" Your voice was firm. He sighed heavily, "In.. tro.. duct-tion?" He was able to sound out words very easily. "Good job."

You finally lowered yourself onto his lap but you didn't let him inside of you yet. Instead you sat on his dick and starting to grind down on it slowly. He was obviously not satisfied with the way you were going about this, "Ah, Y/N don't tease me." You ignored him once again. "Okay, now, what does-" Jaemin pushed his hips up against you slightly. You grinded against him as he pushed up, you bit your lip and moaned quietly. "What does it mean?" He explained in Korean what he thought the word meant. He was correct.

"See if you just do the work then you'd get something for it." You lifted your self and positioned Jaemin's cock with your entrance. You slightly pushed down on it but you didn't go down all the way. Jaemin held onto your waist, "Y/N come on." You wanted to just slam down onto him but you still had to teach him. "Okay next word."

This continued on for a while. Jaemin is stubborn and needy all at the same time. He answered another question so you actually lowered yourself onto his erection this time. It was warm as you lowered yourself onto Jaemin, he's always loved that feeling. He was starting to get frustrated though. But of course he loved to make things difficult for himself. He thrusted into you slightly which caught you off guard. You almost dropped the cards as you moaned at the sudden feeling. "Jaemin, don't." He did it a few more times and you moaned each time. "You did this to yourself."

You stood up completely and didn't lower yourself again. "Now. Read the card." Of course you wanted to cum too but you're enjoying this way too much. Jaemin sighed out of frustration and threw a small tantrum. "Okay Y/N I'm sorry. Please let me fuck you." You shook your head. "You aren't fucking anything until you get through these flash cards." He looked at the big stack of cards in your hand and whined impatiently.

Instead of sitting on his dick you sat right next to him. Your leg was still over his legs but you read the next word. "Okay, what's this one?" It was an easy one, Jaemin quickly said it, "It says hello, it's what you say when you meet with someone." You nodded and moved your leg against his hard on. He sucked in sharply at your movements. You moved your leg back and forth, Jaemin was getting needy but he didn't want you to stop so he had to hold himself still. He whimpered needily under his breath. "You did really good on that question."

You moved back onto his lap but you still didn't sit on him. Instead you grabbed his cock and started to pump it quickly. He let out a string of needy moans as he got closer and closer. "Y/N I'm gonna-" You haulted all movements. Jaemin whined really loudly, "I said sorry Y/N please don't do this!" You looked at him, "I already said you have to get through the whole stack didn't I?" He had a love hate relationship with how cruel you were.

You simply just showed him the card this time, you've asked the same question a bunch of times already. Jaemin has gone on strike now, he was being stubborn once again. "You don't want to answer?" You lowered yourself onto Jaemin's cock. He hissed from the feeling. You didn't move and you watched his reaction to you grinding down on him. "Are you gonna answer the question baby boy?" You ran the side of the cards up and down his body. "There's not that many left." Of course you were lying, he was being so stubborn that you'd barely moved through the stack.

He bit his lip and held it in his mouth. "Come on, you can do it Jaemin." He tensed up as he got close again from you moving your hips. His held fell back and he started to moan quietly. He was trying to hold it in but he couldn't. "Don't cum yet, you're not finished with the cards." He let out a frustrated moan, "Then stop moving." You thought his frustration was really cute so you didn't stop moving. "Y/N-" You bounced a little which caused Jaemin to let out a strangled moan. "Read the word baby."

He tried so hard to concentrate but he couldn't so he placed his hands on your waist. You could still move which you were. For the first time since you started he actually wanted You to stop so he held your hips down with all his strength. You finally stopped, you were amused by him. "Do you finally want to cum?" His eyes lit up and he nodded his head, "Drop the attitude then. Oh yeah and answer a few more."

He knows you aren't gonna give him anything if he keeps acting like a brat but he has no intention of dropping the act. "You done acting up?" He nodded slowly even though he was lying, "Please just let me cum.." You put the card up to his face, "Answer." He concentrated on the word and read it out quickly and followed with a definition of the word. He's so good when he wants to be, but he'll always have his bratty nature.

You grinded on him once again. He threw his head back and his dick twitched inside of you as it hardened again. "One more baby, I'll let you cum if you answer one more okay?" He nodded quickly but lost his train of thought. His eyes were tightly shut as he tried not to cum.

"Focus baby." You grinded your hips down on Jaemin's dick causing him to groan. "How do you say this word?" He struggled to focus as his eyes weren't previously open. "Ah I don't know Y/N please just move." You shook your head, "You do know, be patient. I won't move until you answer."

He whined out as if he was going to cry. You were teaching him how to say different fruits in english. "Okay, a- ah-!" He was cut off by a moan as you started to bounce yourself on his length. "Ah?" You giggled at the way his attention was pulled further away from the word you were teaching him.

"Try again baby." You moaned quietly as you felt yourself getting closer. "A-pple?" He ran his hands up and down your waist. His accent was so cute, it was one of the reasons you loved teaching him. "Good boy." He loved your praise, you could tell by the way he gasped, "I- I'm close." You threw the flashcards down and moaned again, "Cum for me baby." You both came almost at the same time.

He shot his warmth into you as he moaned in a high pitched tone. You also moaned as you felt yourself getting weaker. Your bouncing became more inconsistent as you held onto Jaemin's shoulders for support. Jaemin looked fucked out as he tried to catch his breath again. You got off of him and laid yourself on the couch next to him.

"You know, you're such a brat Jaemin." You shook your head. He smiled angelicly, "You always say you won't act up but you do anyways." He knew you loved his brattiness so he didn't even slightly feel bad. He leaned over and laid his head on your stomach. As you ran your hands through his hair you spoke, "You still have to finish the rest of those cards you know that right?" Jaemin just groaned at the thought, "At least don't make me define the words." You laughed because you had already planned on continuing that way of teaching.

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Thoughts on Karin’s Magical Girl Story

Another collection of thoughts and reactions, plus analyzing some small changes the NA translation made (similar to the translation comparison I did for Alina’s MGS a while back).

Starting off with not a change, but an interesting note: Karin and Alina’s club situation is rather strange.  Alina is the “outsider” from the Art Club, while Karin is part of the Manga Club.  The classroom they share, though, doesn’t appear to be the main space for either club.  I’d initially assumed that it was the room originally used for the Manga Club, but once Arc 2 updates these backgrounds...

It turns out this actually is an art classroom!  I guess the school just has two?

First major change: Just like in Alina’s MGS, they removed direct references to Karin and Alina’s ages.  The reference to Karin’s age at the start of the Magical Halloween Theater event was also changed.

(In JP here, Alina was said to have won a lot of different awards “for a 16 year old,” while Karin stated her age as 14 in the MHT event.)

Again, unsure of why the change, but it could be in order to fix the continuity issues. Because good lord, that continuity is snarled...

I think the order that makes the most sense is Karin MGS > Alina MGS > Magius forms > one year passes > MHT > Main Story Ch5 > Holy Alina’s MGS.  In theory, then Karin should be 13 and Alina should be 15 in their Magical Girl Stories and then 14 and 16 in the present, but as mentioned that’s contradicted by the start of Karin’s MGS in the original Japanese.

There’s also the weirdness around when/how Karin learned Alina was a magical girl, since Karin seems aware of it in MHT, yet it’s unclear if she knows in Holy Alina’s MGS.

… Anyway, stuff like this is why I gave up on constructing a coherent timeline for Magia Record.  There’s just too many continuity tangles.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

References to Karin being in her second year in middle school and the third years leaving – also changed.  Probably because it’s both an uncommon way to refer to grades in English, and also, once again, another continuity issue.  (If the third years left, why is Alina still there in one years’ time if she’s at least one grade ahead of Karin?)

Another change: some specifics in why Karin and Alina are in the same classroom together.  In JP, it’s not specified who made the deal to let Alina use the room.  If anything it seems like Karin is the one making a deal directly with Alina.

Which actually makes far more sense all around – why does “the school” care that Alina is giving informal lessons to some random kid?

And it makes more sense from Alina’s perspective too, in that it explains why she tolerates Karin constantly bothering her – putting up with Karin is explicitly the price she’s paying to Karin for using the space.

Oh boy, this.  Karin having this mindset is why it took me so long to really ship AliKari.  Because the dark undertone to “if only I improve, then surely Alina will treat me better” is that Karin is blaming herself when Alina is cruel to her.  And that can very easily slide into an abusive relationship - if you don’t consider it one already.

Alina treating Karin decently should not be dependent on Karin’s art skill.  Or anything else, for that matter.  Full stop.

(Tangent time, including some Arc 2 spoilers)

What ultimately made me come around to AliKari is some of the early Arc 2 stuff, where Karin starts thinking the reason Alina disappeared is because Alina is mad at Karin for not improving.  Karin’s explanation is spectacularly wrong, so I’m now more trusting that the game is implying that Karin’s mindset is going to change. That she’ll stop believing she’s at fault for Alina’s actions - and hopefully stand up to Alina too while she’s at it.

The other half of the equation is Alina, who as far as I can tell, is genuinely not interested in bullying Karin.  She certainly has every opportunity to do so – especially given how her teacher punishes Karin for Alina’s behavior – but Alina never takes advantage of it.  So while she is overly harsh and blunt about expressing her opinions to Karin, I don’t get the sense there is any manipulation underlying it.  Indeed, very unusually for Alina, we also never see her enjoying or fantasizing about Karin’s pain or distress.  She really, truly, just wants Karin to get better at art already!

Obviously, for any kind of relationship between the two to work, they would both need to undergo significant character development.  But that’s the draw of AliKari – while other characters have stagnated (sigh, RikaRen), Alina and Karin are still some of the most dynamic characters in the game. And in general, the direction has been that despite starting out in a bad place (like Karin’s mindset above), they’re growing to become very positive influences on each other.

(End tangent)

Enjoying the extra cliches thrown in here and there, and in general how they translated Karin’s dramatics by adding additional cheesy and on-theme descriptions.  Stuff like “dark and dreary night” or “cauldron of trouble” aren’t in the original Japanese, but they’re wonderfully in-character – honestly probably an improvement over the original!

Not a change, but more reminding myself that I really need to read Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne.  I’m like 97% sure that’s what’s being referenced here – the plot description and even the comments Karin makes about “Phantom Thief Kirin” In her later Magic unlock quotes are all a very close match.

Interestingly enough, I’ve heard KKJ mentioned as an earlier dark magical girl series that Madoka Magica rips off.  So it’s quite interesting to see it referenced again back in a PMMM property – I wonder which part of the creative team was responsible for this detail?

Hm, so, the subject and detail of Karin and Alina’s conversation in the middle differs between translations.  In JP, the subject is vague, so the fan translation has Alina going off on an extended metaphor comparing the history of art to the protagonist of Karin’s manga.  Meanwhile, in NA she just makes vague comments comparing her own growth as an artist.  

I think I prefer the former - Alina usually doesn’t like talking about herself, but she sure loves to ramble about art history.

The translation I can find for the metaphor Karin’s grandmother uses here in JP renders it “barely able to keep a business going” - so did Karin’s grandmother possibly own a business herself?  That’s a bit more interesting than just “struggled to make ends meet.”

Speaking of Karin’s grandmother, I really like her as a character.  Her relationship with Karin is really sweet - I mean, how often do you see a teenage girl and an older woman being fans of something together?  It happens in real life plenty of times, but it’s so rare to see this kind of interaction represented in fiction.

And it’s nice to see an example of mental illness being treated as just that – an illness.  I especially like that there’s consent to the cure – Grandma outright says she wishes to be cured, rather than Karin deciding as such on her own.  (As Karin is often wont to do…)

This is a fun illustration of how Alina has a very strong internal logic to her, but she’s really terrible at communicating it to other people.

Karin, naturally, takes Alina’s comment here as an exceptionally mean thing to say – it sounds like Alina is callously implying the thing Karin worked so hard on was so bad it wasn’t even worth Alina’s time to destroy, so she’s making Karin suffer even more in having to destroy it herself.

And the way Alina elaborates makes it quite clear that yes, she did mean to call Karin’s work garbage.  This isn’t Alina having difficulty with Japanese or English.

But while Alina’s sense of taste can be quite sadistic, I don’t think that’s what she was aiming for here.  Remember that Alina believes that “only the artist themselves has the right to destroy their work.”  So this is actually Alina acknowledging Karin’s work as art, and therefore only Karin has the right to rip it up.

And why rip it up?  Because whenever Alina finds her own work unsatisfactory, she destroys it.  Hence Alina’s question at the end of this little back-and-forth:

If Karin doesn’t want to rip up her manga, then according to Alina’s logic, that means she must be happy and satisfied with it.  But even Alina can tell that Karin is still unsatisfied and lying to herself, hence Alina’s frustration and confusion at Karin not destroying her work.

Another timeline note: Alina doesn’t lie, and even if she did, she doesn’t have a ring here.  So I think it’s pretty settled that Karin’s MGS takes place before Alina learned about magical girls.

Oh huh. In NA, Alina thinks she’ll be the one in trouble if Karin isn’t ready.  In the fan translation I’m used to, it seems like Alina is saying she’d just be mad herself… but I think NA has it right here.  (In the original JP, Alina is using the passive form of “get angry” without a subject.)

Both work, but the impression NA gives with both this change and the earlier one is that someone at the school is basically putting Alina in charge of supervising Karin.  Which… what the hell, Sakae Academy?

Going back a bit, Alina’s advice and its effect on Karin is interesting.  One of Karin’s flaws really is that she makes excuses for herself and only half-commits, so Alina pushing her to think about what she truly wants and work hard to get it was genuinely what Karin needed to hear at the time.

However, Alina is also an obsessive perfectionist that tends to push herself to very clearly unhealthy levels…

So it’s rather fitting that on following Alina’s advice, Karin ends up pushing herself into doing something very dangerous: insisting on fighting a witch alone even though Kaede tries to get her to retreat.  Karin is so determined she’s risking her life to fulfill her goal – something Alina would no doubt approve of.  But also a great illustration of why Alina and her advice is flawed too.

Which, come to think of it, is part of why Karin and Alina’s MGS actually form a nice pair of complementary short stories.  If you read them in chronological(?) / original JP release order, you first get to see how Alina helps Karin to grow as a person, and if you think hard about it, you can kind of see foreshadowing for Alina’s own issues.  Then in Alina’s MGS, you get confirmation of that foreshadowing about Alina, and furthermore, the payoff to Karin’s development with her now being the one to give Alina some hard-hitting advice.

[hippychick006]

Paleyfest 2006: Supernatural Panel

So I’ve watched about half the panel so far and am taking a break because my airpods have ran out of charge as I keep pausing to make notes. It was a natural break anyway as the first part of the panel was a hosted session and the next part is a questions from the audience.

So many memories and a couple of things I’d forgotten but been smiling for the last couple of hours as I watch, pause and pull the notes together.  Definitely worth a revisit to remember falling in love with this show and these guys.

Here’s my notes so far which I’ll tidy up and reissue all in a single post when I’ve finished watching tomorrow (timings are based on the video link) 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6YHq20XmNE

Placing under a cut as longish post:

Supernatural was named in the Top 5 of new series by Entertainment Weekly

Aww. Kim Manners ☹  Miss his influence so much on the later seasons

2:20:  Jensen followed by Jared are announced to the panel. Jared arrives and doesn’t quite know where he’s supposed to go. Oh Jared.

Robert Singer looks so young! Wworking with J2 for so long has definitely aged him. 😊

3:35: Erik says as far as he’s aware, this panel is the first gathering of Supernatural fans

3:40: Erik tells the story of them filming in Stanley Park the night before the panel and they get a call about a man near their filming with a handgun, set gets shut down, J2 held away, police etc. called in and 2 hours later they find out it’s one of their own guys from Special Effects team.

They showed Scarecrow episode at the panel – great choice!

7:15: Jensen is reintroduced to the panel. The host can barely get through Jensen’s previous roles because of the fans. Jensen says something at 8.10 “Over to you, Jared.” I think, not 100% sure, but he definitely shouts something to Jared (who has still to be introduced).

8:11: Jared is reintroduced to the panel. The host is still having the same trouble getting through Jared’s roles as he did with Jensens. A guy shouts, “I love you.” Same random audience member, same

8:55: J2 slap hands as Jared sits down beside Jensen at the panel.

13:40: Erik’s been talking about the concept of the show and the care the brothers have for each other. Cut to Jared who is currently pouring Jensen some water.  Aww

15:00: They auditioned “everyone in town” so J2 did really, really well getting these roles.  They flew Jensen down from Vancouver and Jared’s complaining he had to drive. They thought they had found their Sam in Jensen.

15:45: Jensen and Jared trying to dodge the question by passing it to each other, Jared: What’s the exact question?

Immediately following this Jared’s talking about getting the role from his perspective and his little baby!Jared Texan accent is just…

17:05: Jared, talking about his mom being an English teacher who teaches mythology and legends:  “…the taught teachings of Joseph Campbell”  Jensen: “Didn’t rub off that she was an English teacher” Oh boys! Stop bullying Jared, he worked till 4.30am before flying down to the panel!

17:45: Jared’s still talking, Jensen starts snoring. I can’t… Jared shakes him to wake him up.

18:20: Jared and Kripke are trying to clarify something (who was in the room when Jared auditioned) but Singer is in the way and they keep going front and back trying to make eye contact

19:24: we get to what Jensen’s experience of the audition process was. Jensen: Pretty much the same. Jared (immediately): zzzzzzz (resting his head on Jensen’s shoulder).  Jensen goes on to talk about liaising with Nutter who wanted to bring him in and reading the script (for Sam). Jensen reading the script: “What about Dean? I like Dean.  He’s funny” He studied for Sam (and Dean a little bit just in case) and went into the audition, said he felt good about it and got a call later from Erik: “There’s this guy, Jared Pada, Pada Something… that they’re really liking for one of the brothers” So Jensen looks him up on line and he’s like…

Jared: He thought I was hot.

Jensen: This guy’s smoking hot, I can’t play his brother!

Jared throws his head back and does that clapping thing he does.  

21:10: host is asking by the time they performed together, they actually had the parts? Jensen: No, we didn’t have it officially. Jared (a bit surprised): Didn’t we? (looks at Erik). Erik says they were the only actors they brought into the Network audition (as you have to have the formality of the network signing off).

Jared says auditioning for the network is usually a terrifying process in front of around 5 people with a few others auditioning but when they turned up, it was only the two of them. Jensen: Just you and me pal. And it was the first time they’d met.

22:00: Jensen: “...And we’ve hated each other ever since.” He reaches for his water, Jared: “I poisoned your water so…” Jensen looks at water and drinks anyway

22:15: Kim Manners gets asked how he became involved. Kim: “I read for Sam…” Miss this man so much!

23:00: Erik says he doesn’t know what they would do without Kim up there [Vancouver] Kim: I know what you’d do, you’d get another guy! Panel: There is no other guy. Not true...  Jared: “There is no other guy… named Kim.”  Kim looks like he’s scheduling Jared in for a 4am pick up on his next episode.

23:40: Jared and Jensen talk about Kim and when he directed for the first time – Dead In the Water – they’d asked who he was and all David Nutter told them was they would love Kim, which they did and they contacted everyone from Day 1 saying he was incredible. Jared’s memory during this is pretty amazing in terms of episodes and directors etc.  All the love for Kim and completely deserved!

24:20: Jared gets so expressive he sends his mic flying. Is this the very first Jared v microphones?! I think it might just be. Jared: 0, Microphones: 1

Jensen offers his own mic then Jared asks Singer for his also then finishes speaking by just holding his own mic, saying they begged and pleaded them to give Kim a job. Jared: because he was hungry… and he kept trying to bite my arm… and I was really worried.”

24:45: They were asked what is so incredible about Kim. Jensen: “Jared and I…” Wait, I need a moment here. Jared and I… sobs.  He says they just responded well to him and his style of directing.

25:15: Bugs is mentioned by Jensen, Kim puts imaginary gun to his mouth. He really hated that episode and pleaded with Kripke not to do it.   Jensen goes on to tell the bees story, 65,000 bees in a room, crew with full gear on. “Okay Jensen and Jared, hop on in…” Jared: “And don’t swat them because it makes them angry!”  Jensen credits Kim saying that if J2 didn’t have bee suits on then he wasn’t going to either.

I should point out that J2 are mirroring throughout this segment in terms of their body language.

26:45: John (Shiban I think) is talking about how he got involved and what drew him in, and he said 2 things: the premise, he can see 5 years of suffering for these guys. Jensen throws his head back dramatically. The second thing is casting and chemistry and chemistry is something you can’t manufacture and these guys have it… 27:20 Jared and Jensen look at each other hearing this and Jared leans in for a kiss.  Jensen shakes his head and points to the audience.  Jared: worth a try.  Oh boys. Jared will go on to try (and fail) to get a public kiss several times and will eventually give up and admit he doesn’t kiss Jensen... in public.

27:35: Bob [Singer] is asked what about you? Bob: Can I just watch them? (indicating Jensen and Jared). Same Bob tbh

27:55: Bob has to stop talking because J2 are doing something and we can’t see what they are doing but everyone is laughing. Bob throws his hands up and says “This is what it’s like to direct them!” I think from memory, Jared might be pouring water for Jensen and he keeps pouring and overspills and Jensen stops him.  I might need to check my DVD as I think it’s got a different angle than this youtube video that I’m using or possibly this point comes later in the video.   

Bob’s is a very interesting segment where he talks about how he and Kripke complement one another and I think this helps understand why Drabbernatural has gone off the rails as Singer (character focused) needs someone like Kripke (plot focused) to balance him out (and vice versa tbh) whereas Drabb is too much like Singer and can’t keep a handle on the plot. Anyway, interesting to watch from perspective of 14 years later and the mess that Drabbernatural is in terms of plot. This segment ends at 31:00 where Bob and Erik hug – after complimenting each other.

33:09: Kripke and John are talking about mythology v MOTW and at this point Erik is saying they have a mythology plan for season 2 and season 3 (if they are picked up). Jared looks confused at Jensen and they both turn to John. Jensen: When do we get to see this?

34:35: Erik Kripke (when asked if he knows where the story ends): He does, but you don’t know if you’re going to get cancelled or go 37 years like Gunsmoke.   Kim: The boys are in Walkers. Jensen (I think, old man voice): Sam!

 Oh, how they would be shocked to learn they went for 15 seasons in total

It was a good watch, highly recommend, particularly if you’ve been flagging with Drabbernatural and all the negativity over the summer.  

I’ll be back tomorrow with the rest of it.

[charityfaithfull]

—— isn’t that CHARITY BURBAGE? yeah that is them, sitting there at the RAVENCLAW table with those other SEVENTH years. when sybill looks into that crystal ball of hers, she sees (stacks of vinyl records, torn pages from a book, waves crashing on jagged rocks, long winding roads, peace signs painted on buildings) which seems about right for that NINETEEN year old. anyway i’ve heard they’re pretty RAW, UNREPENTANT, and EDGY. apparently they’re FOR THE LIGHT and HALFBLOOD but i’m sure that’s not related…

A fire was burning….

Somewhere in London near the Old Spitalfields marketplace, Charity Burbage grew up with her wizard father and muggle mother. She was much closer to her mother. The woman indulged her daughter’s natural curiosity and recognized her brilliance from a young age…but even she couldn’t keep the child indoors.

Surely, Charity was intelligent and well-read, but the loud bustle of the city called to her. And soon, she found herself fully emerged in the different cultures and styles surrounding the city in the 60s and 70s. She loved the earthiness of hippies, the grit of the punks, the devil-may-care of the new wave.

But she was excited for Hogwarts and found herself immersing into the wizarding world in the fall, but diving headfirst into the excitement summers brought her in the muggle world.

It was those dynamics that drew her to muggle studies, that drew her to speak loudly of her beliefs. Charity Burbage did not give a shit what you thought of her.

So follow her through the streets of London-town or through the halls of Hogwarts as she will literally make her mark where she sees fit. She’ll ask you questions until the answer satisfies her and expect the same from you.

She was all about critique and being critical of the world around her. Surely, sometimes that made her a little quick to judge, especially for someone considered to be so open minded. But reading people quickly was really the only option she had. So that applied everywhere, to friends, to teachers, to leaders, to politicians. 

In some ways, behaving that way felt safer. She kept a few close to her, but never really indulged in why. That would take much more to get out of her. Parts of it are fear of course, for her friends, and her mother especially.

Now in seventh year, Charity knows she is not a ‘fighter’. Not physically. She can provide intellect, and questions. But it’s place in this magical society feels less valued. Charity is a girl with just as many answers as questions, if only people would listen.

She’s considering ‘putting together’ some test scores to apply to universities. Cambridge or Oxford may be her style. But goodness, she’s in love with magic just as much. These two worlds she split herself between are so similar if people were to only....only...stop being so stupid all of the time.  

For as likely as she is to engage in deep meaningful conversation with you, she will not hesitate to outsmart and outwit you if her battle calls for it.

--

Patronus: Friesian Horse Wand: Cherry Wood with Unicorn Hair, Nine Inches

--

Smells Like:

Citrus, oranges, and sea spray

--

Looks Like: 

Long cardigans, loose curls falling in every direction, handmade jewelry, leather jackets, freckles known only to those close enough to see, corduroy trousers, vinyl records and band posters scattered on walls, snapped guitar strings, torn book pages shoved into a diary,  a bedside table that looks more like a library, hopping subway turnstiles when the situation calls for it, setting up her own tutoring station in the library, clearing away glass mugs in an East London bar, silly photographs lining her bedroom, a book of spells specifically for charming permanent marks into walls

--

Sounds Like:

As Tears Go By; Marianne Faithfull, Cruel to be Kind; Nick Lowe, Big Yellow Taxi; Joni Mitchell, Warrior in Woolworths; X-Ray Spex, Monster; Paramore.....

--

Life and Relationships at a Glance:

Her circle was small, but good. Those who knew her, knew her well.

--

Family

Charles Burbage, Metal Charmer; Harriet Burbage, Nurse

--

Speaks

A little cockney, but learned received pronunciation when it comes to English, 

Some Ukrainian, 

Barely French nowadays

--

Facts:

Her favorite musical artists are Marianne Faithfull (as hinted in her blog name) and Blondie (she would rather be talking to Debbie Harry and Chris Stein than to you)

She can play most instruments, but its a jack-of-all trades, master-of-none situation

She paints Pro-Muggle and Muggleborn signs around campus, usually right on the stone walls and quidditch pitch.

She likes to take photographs of her friends lives. The style I imagine is very similar to that of Nan Goldin in the 80s.

The Ravenclaw girl’s dorm is one of her least favorite places. It seems that all together the roommates clash, even when individually things aren’t that bad all of the time

There is a group of muggle friends she sees regularly in the summers. Her relationship to them can be a little strained as there’s so much she isn’t allowed to tell them. They are a wild mix of universtiy students, artists, punks, hippies, etc.

--

New Plots/Wanted Connections Link Coming Soon

[decoydeku]

Smartass

pairing: badboy!izuku midoriya x reader

au: highschool!au

prompt: Tunnel Of Love (remix) – haroinfather, Savage Ga$p

wc: 1.7K

warnings: a bit of cliché stuff here n there, badboy!izuku with babie!izuku seeping through, swearing, e-boy hate o.O

synopsis: Izuku, cinnamon roll? Pfft, who said that!? With his jet-black shades, leather jacket and curly green undercut you’d say he’s the definition of a wattpad bad boy. Stupid how he always swivels up to your locker to annoy you though.

a/n: I heard a tiktok song and imagined Izuku singing it to me. This is the result. Haha this has no plot lmao 

 You’d just finished your excruciatingly long, double period English class, piling the mixed books ranging from novels and textbooks into your locker. Your arms were sore, silently cursing your teacher for wanting to go over so much material today. Turning to the timetable plastered on your locker door, you noted your next class before you saw a figure approaching you from the corner of your vision.

Your head snapped up in eagerness as your locked eyes with your best friend, Ocacho. “Y/N!” Her face broke into a smile as she made her way toward her locker that was the consecutive one to yours. “How was your last class?” The brunette asks, shifting the weight of her textbooks to one hand as she fumbles with her lock with the other. “English, right?”

You roll your eyes at the memory, letting out a disgusted sigh. “Same old, same old,” You replied, grabbing your own lock to shut your locker door. “How was…chemistry?” Chemistry? Or was it math…?

Ocacho suppressed a giggle, helping her books to lie neatly in her locker. “I had biology,” She emphasised, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “And yeah, it was pretty good.”

You offered her a weak, apologetic smile. You were in the third quarter of the school year, yet you still hadn’t memorised what classes she was taking…oops. “Uh, anyway,” You leaned against the cerulean paint of the lockers. “Cafeteria for lunch? I can’t be bothered to go out to the town today.”

Your best friend nods with a shrug, “Any-” She trails off mid answer, vision surpassing you and glued to a figure in the distance behind where you leaned. “Oh no…” The words barely come out as more than a breathy mumble but her expression gave you all the confirmation you needed. Of course.

The familiar squeak of those midnight Vans you detested echoed against the polished floor of the hallway. Murmurs and eccentric giggles shortly followed the shriek sound, and you licked over your teeth in annoyance. Here we go again.

“Y/N!” The husk yet annoyingly loveable voice confirmed all your suspicions at once. His musky cologne fanned your senses, as you heard the leaning thud of his arm by your locker. “What’s up, babygirl?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. Jaw clenched tightly; you turn to meet the familiar green eyes of Izuku Midoriya – resident ‘bad boy’. His hair was freshly cut, styled in a slighter shorter version of his classic undercut, curls of green dangling over his forehead.

“Midoriya, hey,” You were fed up with asking him to stop fucking calling you babygirl, and at this point you were just going to have to accept it. “Come to annoy me again, have you?” As much as you tried to deny it, you sort of liked the little banter he brought over to you every lunch break. Your lips curled into a slight smile; evidently.

Your best friend was well acquainted with the leather-jacket wearing boy’s visits, and knew there wasn’t a point trying to get a word in. “I’ll meet you at our table,” She spoke, seemingly supressing some sort of grin. “Don’t forget again, okay?”

Just as she was slipping away, you reached vainly for her. “Hey, wait Ocacho! I’m coming now, I swear if I can just-” But, alas, by the time that half-a-sentence left your lips, she was out of earshot. “Fuck,” You mumbled, mouth twisting in annoyance before letting out another defeated sigh. “Why do you have to do this every time?”

Izuku arched an eyebrow in (what could be mock) surprise. “Do what everytime?” He teased, grinning down at you with a devilish smirk. “All I did was say hello.”

You socked him in his hard-rock chest, grazing your skin lightly on the metal zipper of his ebony leather jacket. Ow ow ow. In attempt to hide your wince, you faced away from him, starting to walk away. “Shut up.”

He hissed at the hit, pushing off the lockers to walk in step with you to the cafeteria. “Hey, wait up!” Once again, you were met with those captivating green irises – wait when did they become captivating.

Rolling your eyes, you gave him an apathetic shrug. “You really need to get a life, Midoriya,” Though your words didn’t match your light and playful tone. God, why are you enjoying this? “Hey, how come you always come up to me and annoy me anyway.” You’d tutored him in English what, several months ago? How did he still find you interesting after so long ago?

Denki, who happened to catch just enough of the conversation to comment, piped up as you crossed paths. “Hah, easy!” He butted in his unnecessary comment, “Because Midoriya’s got the fattest, biggest c-”

“CHOCOLATE BAR TO GIVE YOU!” Izuku spontaneously blurted out, shoving a hand into his back pocket to pull out a slim, purple-wrapped chocolate bar. He pushed it into your hands, face burning with a dark tint before shooting the death glare at his blonde friend. “I…was saving it because I know how much you like chocolate!” The mumble tumbled out of his lips – out of his control – and his gaze flicked away from yours.

Your brows furrowed in wary, holding up the sweet in a strange manner. “This isn’t poisoned is it? Denki said it was the fattest and this feels like a tiny little-”

“Ahahah, you know Kaminari!” Weirdly enough, the usual low-tone of the bad boy’s had jumped a few pitches and had now had a cute nervous laugh in the mix. Is he okay??? “Always over exaggerating…!”

Cautiously, you peeled off the wrapping, just as you arrived at the cafeteria. “…Alright, but if I die or some shit guess who I’m blaming.” You declare, taking a delicious chomp out of the milky textured goodness. In bliss, you groaned at the melt-in-your mouth, letting it coat your tongue. “Okay, this is good!”

Meanwhile, Izuku was having trouble stringing the words together to ask you the burning question on the tip of his tongue – the whole reason he had that irritatingly expensive chocolate bar in his back pocket. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat as you both grabbed a tray and joined the line.

“So uh, the whole reason why I bought you that thing is…” Were his cheeks burning? Fuck what the hell’s wrong with him!? He reached to smooth a hand through his curly locks, trying to craft the right sentence to approach with. With a hint of anxiety, his eyes darted around the room. “Is because I’m failing math.”

You spun to face him, still munching away on your gifted chocolate bar. “What?” Your shoulders slumped – too cute – he thought. “Oh, I’m sor-” You stopped mid-sentence, letting the words replay in your mind. Right. “You want me to tutor you, don’t you?”

The freckle-faced boy gives you an uncharacteristically, sheepish smile. “If I don’t do well on the next test my score’s gonna go down…” So that’s a yes? His thumbs fiddled with the corners of the lunch-tray, pressing and fidgeting against the plastic. “I’d…really appreciate it, baby- I mean Y/N!”

Your smile picked up more prominently, not being able to help how cute the usual idiot seemed in this moment. You held your tray out for your helping. “…Okay I’ll do it.”

His whole face lit up – a beam looking oh so good on the usual smirk ridden face. He should wear it more often. “Wait, seriously?! You’d do that for me?” He held his own tray out for a helping. “I…I don’t- I mean, uh thank you Y-”

“On one condition,” Your wet your lips in thought, picking up a spoon from the utensils cup. “You have to get an A.”

He stopped, holding up the line for a few seconds. A few hangry yells brought him back to his senses. “An ‘A’!?” Izuku echoed, trying to keep up with your swift route to the table Uraraka was waiting for you at. “But why? What happens if I don’t?”

You turned slyly, giving him a look of intent. “You have to wear whatever I tell you to for a week.”

He scoffed in return. “What is this? A cliché? What’s the worst you can do, babygirl?”

“Oh?” Your lips curled into a smirk, guiding him along the cafeteria tables. “Alright, how about you let me give you a makeover?” You suggested. “I’ll make you not only the average ‘bad boy’ but I’ll add some eye-liner, chains…make you an e-boy!”

Izuku could’ve sworn he’d just vomited in his mouth. “An e-boy!?” He spluttered in return, fake-belching. “That’s…that’s…” He kinda called this upon himself. “Sure, fine, if I don’t get an A you turn me into an e-boy and if I do get an A I get to take you out.”

You grinned, “Sounds like a-” Your jaw fell, almost letting the lunch tray slip between your fingers. “Wait what!? I didn’t agree to that!”

The boy before you only shrugged, a playful glint shining bright in those eyes. “Only seems fair though, right?” You sat down next to Uraraka, giving her a soft greeting. He continued. “I get a reward for getting an A, you get a reward if I don’t impress you!”

Your face heated. “Who said getting a date with me was-” For what felt like the a-thousandth time, you stopped your sentence, training your eyes to meet his again. “Oh, what the heck, why not.”

His eyebrows jumped at you, grin spreading with ease across his freckle face. “Awesome!”

“Hey Midoriya!” Bakugo called from the table which sat Izuku’s usual friend group. “Why’re you hanging around with those nerds, hurry up before stupid dunce face steals your seat.”

Izuku glanced from his blonde friend to you, still smiling from ear-to-ear. His eyes sparkled with eccentricity, “Your place tonight?” Why does he remind me of a puppy? A cute, adorable, hot, puppy-

You gave him a slight nod, “I’ll check with my Mom but, it should be fine.”

He gave you a finger-salute, walking-backward to his table. “See you tonight babygirl!”

You wet your lips, shaking your head at the idiotic boy you’d landed a lesson with. “See you tonight, ‘Zuku.”

[kisskissbanggang]

Au Pair

[WayV Mystery Member 👀 x Female Reader -- 6.1K Words/20Min. Read -- Fluffy Plot, Fluffy Smut -- NSFW, Living Abroad, Will-They-Won’t-They, Horrible Bosses, Impreg Kink, Tense Situations]

Masterlist | Feedback

When you first entered college, you never quite predicted you would end up on the other side of the world during your senior year, but here you were on a balmy summer day, grabbing your bags out of your ride from the airport. Your Uber had taken you down a driveway long enough to make you think you were miles away from the city, and now you were faced with the most laughably luxurious home you'd ever seen in person.

From what you understood, your interview with the Copelands had gone well for two big reasons: 1) they appreciated all the credentials and materials you'd masterfully prepared, and 2) you were American, which apparently reminded them of home. They were almost cheating the whole concept of having an au pair, because you certainly weren't going to be exchanging much culture in a home like theirs, aside from maybe class culture. They certainly had enough money to do whatever they wanted, which was baffling considering they could've just hired a professional nanny for their son rather than an au pair for the year.

Melissa Copeland stood at the threshold of this near-palace, angular and terrifying in her smart suit. You could practically feel a cool breeze emanating from her as you approached. She finally looked up from her phone, her purse hooked on the crook of her arm like she was about to leave.

"You're finally here. I was about to leave."

You quickly dropped your bags to offer a handshake. A firm, friendly, American handshake. She may as well have been handing off her keys to the valet for how much she even touched your extended hand.

"Mrs. Copeland, I'm so sor--"

"Melissa."

"Er, Melissa, I'm so sorry, my flight was delayed."

"I can see that. I'll make time for a quick tour. Come inside." She gestured to her personal assistant -- a mouse of a girl -- to notice your bags on the ground. She wordlessly lunged forward and grabbed them, then sprinted inside the house with them as gracefully as possible. You followed Melissa into the foyer.

"As I said, I'll make this quick," your new boss droned, "this is the foyer. You'll obviously be staying in the guest room closest to Carson's, which is up the grand staircase, at the end of the west hallway, ergo, yours is the second to last room down said hallway. The Master Suite is at the end of the east hallway. The kitchen is in the back, pool is outside, you can take one of the cars or request a driver from Brent's company if you need a ride anywhere. Not sure when Brent will be home; his business trip has been extended. Carson is at dance lessons right now, and will be back at 3 o'clock. If you need anything else explained, you can ask our head of household, Ai. She's somewhere doing something; she shouldn't be hard to find."

You hadn't left the room. You hadn't walked around the room. Really, Melissa had hardly moved at all while she'd spoken. You were on edge, suddenly wondering if you were in way over your head, only shaken out of your stress as a car rolled up outside the open front door behind you. Melissa casually strolled to the door, her "tour" apparently over as she stopped to regard you one last time. "I'm glad you're here --"

"I am, too, Melissa, you--"

"-- It'll be much easier to reinforce Carson's English with an American au pair. Not to mention all our friends didn't think to get an au pair for their kids. Just nannies. Now we're the only ones." She gave a shrugging smirk as she slipped out the door and into the waiting car. Her assistant scampered back through the foyer, hot on the trail as she quickly followed Melissa.

Then she was gone. You gazed, bewildered, around the giant foyer before making your way up the grand staircase. You peeked into Carson's room, noting how oddly sterile it all looked for a little boy. It looked as though it had been plucked out of an Ikea catalogue... Only not the children’s section. Rather, the room had the sensibility and furnishings of a shrunken design major.

"Lost?"

You whirled around, gasping in surprise as you were faced with a woman who was a good head or more shorter than you and easily your mother's age.

"Er, no," you stammered, "I was just taking a look. Are you Ai?"

The woman smiled warmly. "Come on, then," she nodded her head down the hallway, "I've brought some fresh towels for your en suite."

Ai had led you back down the hall and into the guest room -- easily three or four times the size of your last shoebox of a dorm, not even including the giant bathroom. She gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as you met Carson once he was dropped back off from dance lessons. A perfectly sweet little boy, Carson couldn't be older than five. He followed the two of you around as Ai showed you the rest of the house in greater detail. She, as well as the Copelands' personal chef, groundskeeper, and Melissa's personal assistant stayed in the staff quarters just off of the kitchen, but you had been deemed necessary to stay closer to Carson. You would be invited to family meals if it was ruled to be best for Carson, but otherwise you weren't needed after dinner time, except to occasionally put him to bed. Tonight you had decided to take dinner with Ai in the common area of the staff quarters.

You sat on the comfy couch in this infinitely cozier part of the house, watching as Ai made you both some dinner. "So," you smirked, "no personal chef for us, then?"

"Don't need one," Ai laughed, shrugging, "besides, it's what, Saturday? He usually gets dinner prepared and runs out of here for the night." She brought the food to the small dinner table as you walked over to join her.

She laid out some ground rules, or "unwritten rules" as she was cryptically saying. "I know it'll be tempting to ask Mrs. Copeland for her opinion on things,” she explained, “but don't. Get ahold of me or one of the others instead. Believe me, you're better off making a guess if you can't. Don't accept a drink from Mr. Copeland. You're young, and you're pretty, and you have a young body walking under that young brain of yours, so he'll try to be tricky eventually. You'll be tempted to get involved with their personal business, but don't. You will anyway, but try not to. We've all been there, we've all learned, but it still happens to everyone."

It only took you a few days of being restless in the giant home for you to begin feeling more confident in your new role. You accompanied Carson to see his various teachers and tutors, but you also began enriching his day-to-day life. First was a couple trips to different museums you wanted to visit, and then a zoo the next week. Carson began joining you as you explored the city, either holding your hand or sitting on your shoulders as you went shopping and eating together. Melissa and Brent were "homesick", so they insisted on mostly American food in the house. Well, that had to change. Carson particularly enjoyed hot pot or anything involving cheese. He helped you feel more curious, but also more alert. You'd only ever babysat a few times as a younger teenager, so you weren't used to the intense protective instincts you occasionally felt, even going so far as to scold an old woman who pinched his cheek one day while in a cafe.

Carson was more than excited to continue your adventures together, barely able to contain himself as you helped him shimmy into his swim trunks one day. The Copelands had a ludicrously beautiful pool, and it was a shame that its only use seemed to be as a tanning bed for Melissa. You walked through the dining room together to the open glass doors leading out to the backyard. You dramatically smacked yourself in the forehead. "Of course," you told Carson, "we did all this work to get ready and I forgot your floaties upstairs. Wait here, okay? I'll go get them."

You could've sworn you only got halfway up the stairs when you heard a soft splash from outside. The hair on the back of your neck rose as your heart firmly sank in your chest. Carson may be a smart kid, but a kid nonetheless. You sprinted downstairs, kicking off your sandals and your cover-up as you were suddenly overtaken, another person whipping past you and diving straight into the pool. You looked behind you, regarding the door to the kitchen still hanging open as a gasp quickly brought your attention back to the pool. Lunging forward, you helped this stranger pull Carson out of the pool when you realized you were crying. You heard yourself choke out a sob as you noticed Carson wasn't breathing, until the man grabbed him under the armpits, hoisted him down over one knee, and gave him a firm thump on the back. Carson spit up a cough of water, gasping into a cry and reaching for you. You pulled the little boy close, clutching him tight as you hurriedly walked him upstairs.

Only after he was calmed down, and you called his pediatrician to see if you needed to take any precautions, and you called Melissa for the sake of transparency, did you finally put Carson down for a well-needed nap. Melissa was frustratingly flippant despite her concern, curtly noting that they should put Carson into swim lessons as soon as possible before quickly having to hang up. You flipped on the baby monitor, grabbing the receiver and heading downstairs to retrieve your sandals and cover-up when you noticed the door to the kitchen was still open. You peered inside, following the wet footprints into the door leading to the staff quarters. The trail of drips led down the hall to one of the bedrooms, and you peeked inside. The bed was neatly made, the desk was well organized, and you let yourself gravitate towards the photos pinned on the opposite wall. Sure enough, the stranger from the pool was in nearly all the pictures, smiling and laughing with friends and family members. You were jolted out of your snooping as a hand landed on your shoulder. You whirled around, faced with the handsome guy in the photos.

"Are you lost?" He laughed, patting his hair dry with a fluffy towel. He had apparently changed into his comfy clothes, wearing a thin t-shirt and some track pants.

"Oh, holy crap," you wheezed, "I am so sorry. This looks so weird of me. It is weird of me! I just wanted to thank you so much for what you did."

"It was no problem," he modestly dismissed, "and it had to be done. Is Carson alright?"

"Yes! He'll be fine. And yourself?"

"I'll also be fine," he smiled warmly, his hand returning to your shoulder, "and you? You'll be fine?"

You nodded, earnestly at first and suddenly crumbling back into tears. You were still a bit shaken up, honestly, enough so that you found yourself leaning into the chest of a man whose name you didn't even know.

"Hey," he soothed, "hey, hey, you did great. You did better than great." He slid a gentle knuckle under your chin to tip your gaze up at him. You realized, now, just what you were doing: crying onto -- and hugging -- a stranger in his bedroom while wearing only a bikini.  You found yourself entirely overcome with embarrassment. Your cheeks burning bright red, you turned and scampered out of the room. 

A couple nights had passed before you could bear to venture back down to the kitchen. This had become a bit of a ritual lately, where you would sneak downstairs when you couldn't fall asleep and have a small snack, or maybe a glass or two of wine while you read. It was a stunning kitchen, just like the rest of the house. You hopped up onto the counter with your glass of Pinot, munching on a couple small slices of gouda while you looked over an article on your phone. The door creaked and you steeled yourself, ready to apologize to Melissa for sitting on the counter and drinking her wine (though you knew you didn't have to and you were already sure she drank enough that she'd never notice.) Instead, in through the door popped the cute guy you'd already made a fool of yourself in front of. You both carefully regarded each other from across the room.

"Is that the Pinot?" He asked. 

"Yes?"

"A Merlot would pair better with that." He strolled over, opening the miniature wine fridge on the counter reserved specifically for opened bottles. He slid out a handsome Merlot and poured you a new glass. "I'm not one for letting it breathe when I'm just snacking, but it's worth trying sometime."

You took another nibble of the cheese in your hand, catching yourself keeping eye contact with the man as you tried the wine. You nodded contentedly. "I'm sorry for the other day,” you offered, “That must've been awkward for you."

"No, not at all. Well, no more than needed, which was only a tiny bit. You were stressed out; I get it." He took the half full glass of Pinot out of your hands and sipped from it. "I'd hate to let this go to waste," he explained.

"Do I get to know your name?"

"Only if you promise not to cry on me tonight," he teased, looking regretful as he saw your reaction. "Too mean? Too mean. My name is Kun."

You introduced yourself and you talked.

In fact, you talked late every night in the kitchen that week. Kun was refreshing, smart, thoughtful. Sometimes you just snacked and joked around, other times he cooked you something and you both enjoyed it while you stayed up talking. Kun’s cooking was always effortlessly delicious, whether it was a grilled cheese or an entire tiramisu he secretly made for you to share. It wasn’t long before he suggested you see each other during the daytime, maybe when Carson was at one of his lessons. It was exciting to think that Kun wanted to spend so much time with you. 

“Are you going to watch me?” Carson asked you while he slipped on his ballet shoes. 

“Not today, bud,” you admitted, apologetic but firm.

“Awh, why? I like when you watch,” he pouted.

“I’m hanging out with Kun while you dance. Is that okay?”

Carson thought about it before nodding. “Yeah. I like Kun. He’s nice. Do you like Kun?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “I like Kun. Have fun, and I'll be right here when you're done.” 

Carson waved out the window of the dance studio as you left, waving back at him when Kun pulled up to the curb on his scooter. He handed you a spare helmet before whisking you away. 

Kun had brought you to a tiny cafe deep in the city, winding you down side streets and eventually ending up in a quiet corner of a quiet coffee shop, nonchalantly tittering with the quiet small talk that surrounded you as you sipped your coffee. He explained what made a good cup of coffee, and was pleasantly stunned when you matched him beat for beat with your knowledge from your stint  as a coffee snob. He liked how driven you were, even as you insisted you had no idea what you were doing half the time. Having his personal attention was quickly becoming a luxury, something you treasured more and more. Kun was curious if you considered staying past your contract with the Copelands, but it was hard to tell at this point. What all was there to stay for?

His hand gently held yours as you talked, something you hadn’t expected but readily accepted, his casual forwardness making this easy when it would normally make you wary. You didn’t always fall for guys, but it was so effortless with Kun. He was practically beckoning you with open arms and you were practically leaping into them for how carefree this felt. Every touch was gentle and innocent, like he was scared of chasing you away. He didn’t try to kiss you, he didn’t even try to hold you, but he was perfectly content holding your hand. This was easy. 

What wasn’t as easy was work. Carson wasn’t always cooperative, especially with how little he saw his parents. With so many authority figures in his life but no stable rally point, he would act out. It wasn’t constant, but it was regular enough. The silent treatment one moment, or perhaps a whine, or maybe a full-blown tantrum. You were becoming a pro at ignoring onlookers when Carson would spontaneously decide to have a meltdown. 

On a particularly moody night, Carson begged and begged you to come to dinner with him, and suddenly figured in the middle of the meal that he had no desire to eat his vegetables (which was a shame, considering how impeccable Kun got the roast on them.) His whines became tears as you attempted to reason with him. Melissa watched, carefully observing. Brent momentarily caught your attention, an odd look in his eye making you quickly avert your gaze. Once negotiations were finally settled, Brent smiled a small smile, quietly impressed. Melissa, however, had a look of contempt. Had you done something wrong?

Thankfully, Kun was always there at the end of the night to help you vent, just let off some steam as you sat and hung out in the kitchen. In a rare moment of pure spite, you let him know that even though you had no kids of your own, that you were confident that you’d be a better mother than Melissa. To your utter surprise, Kun agreed.

“The way you handle Carson? Perfect,” Kun praised as he poured you another glass of wine, “Melissa’s just being a jerk because it doesn’t come naturally to her.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Of course not. She was all business before Carson from the sound of it, and she doesn’t seem much different. She was Brent’s assistant before she was his wife, you know.”

You pondered that as you sipped your wine. “That actually makes a lot of sense,” you concluded. Kun nodded in return. 

“If it makes you feel any better, it sounds like Brent sees a lot of Melissa in you. I heard him mention it on one of his phone calls he takes in the gazebo out back. I take it that he likes how professional you are and everything.”

It didn’t make you feel better. In all honesty, it hung on you and nagged at you for days. The first time you had really met Brent, weeks ago now, you had literally run into him after bringing some laundry downstairs. Ai would normally grab it, but the brevity still felt odd and you were headed down there anyhow. You had bumped into Brent as you turned a corner, dropping your laundry basket and letting out an uncharacteristic squeal of surprise. Brent was so tall. It was a little intimidating as he had stooped down to help you pick up your clothes, that same sideways smile you saw at dinner tonight on his face as he had handed you a couple of shirts he grabbed for you. His thumb had been right on top of the bundle he passed back to you, dipped into a stray pair of panties that you had dropped with the basket. You had blushed and gathered your clothes before running off. 

You never thought you compared to Melissa, but now you were scrutinizing her as well as yourself. You compared the ways you dressed, the ways you walked, but couldn't see any similarities. What did Brent mean? One day, you sat with Carson in his room as he put makeup on you. He was so interested in coloring and painting, that he got so intensely curious when he noticed you touching up your lips one afternoon. So, you figured, why not let him go crazy? 

“I like your eyes,” Carson observed as he carefully colored your eyebrows. They were currently jet black and very angry. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Uh huh,” he nodded. “I like your face and your hair but I like your eyes the most.”

“What about Mommy?” You asked curiously. 

“I don’t like Mommy’s eyes,” Carson shook his head. 

“You don’t? What else is different about Mommy and me?”

“Everything,” Carson concluded, “what a weird question.”

It was a weird question, but now you felt better knowing that even Carson thought so. 

Finally, the next day, you’d had it. You went to look for Brent when you were sure he was home. It would just be a curious -- but blunt -- question. He'd been nice enough to you before that you figured he would understand. And you’d laugh about it. You’d heard the door to the patio open and close when you’d been studying up in your room signaling you that he was taking one of his business calls in the backyard again.

You quietly padded down the stairs, through the foyer and into the dining room. A gasp forced itself from your chest before you even really registered what you saw outside in the yard beyond the giant sliding glass doors. Melissa turned from where she straddled Kun’s lap by the poolside, her momentary confusion turning into the most spiteful smile you'd ever witnessed. Kun was frozen under her, his eyes locked on you in an expression you couldn't make out before you quickly turned away, reeling as you rushed back to your room. 

It was an odd feeling, being so betrayed by someone you didn’t feel even belonged to you. Of course you were friendly, of course you flirted a little, but now you just felt stupid for ever thinking that Kun wanted you. Of course he would want Melissa instead, Melissa who stood tall and lithe and was pretty and sexy and well-spoken and so, so commanding. You never knew a person who dominated a room like she did. It hurt seeing her on top of him, and you just felt like a petulant girl for it. You waited for him in the kitchen every night for days, but he never showed. Your heartbreak only multiplied. 

Fine, you figured. If Kun liked sexy then you could do that. You felt a little immature the next evening as you unfolded the new dress you bought from its shopping bag, but it felt proactive. The dress was simple, honestly, but it hugged your body and it wasn't like anything you owned already. You did already own exactly one pair of stilettos, something you only brought for appearances in case you had been asked to accompany the family to a party or other function. Your plan was simple: you'd head down to the kitchen to let Ai know you were heading out for the night and just happen to run into Kun. Your heels clicked on the tile and echoed off the walls as you headed downstairs. Was this petty? Sure, but would it get results? You were confident it would. 

The kitchen was apparently empty at first, but you were surprised to see Brent pop up from behind the open refrigerator door as he snapped open a beer. 

“Hey,” he smiled, “would you like one?”

“Oh,” you fumbled, your fingers playing with the chain of your clutch purse, “no, thank you. I was just telling Ai that I was going out, maybe ask Kun for a ride.”

“Well I saw Kun leave a few hours ago,” he shrugged, “but can we talk? I don't usually have time like this.”

“Sure,” you nodded with a small smile as you set your purse down on the kitchen island, “is it about Carson?”

“No no,” Brent shook his head as he pushed an open beer into your hand anyhow. You absently sipped at it, drawing a grin from him. “It's about you. You watch my son almost all hours of the day and I hardly know you.” He pulled a bar stool out from under the island and invited you to sit. However, he still stood as you talked. You explained school and work and life back home, things you realized you'd talked with Kun about not too long ago. 

“Sorry if I'm rambling,” you winced, setting your beer down. Brent flashed you a dashing smile. 

“Not at all. You're great. It's nice to get to know you.” You blushed deep at the words as Brent brushed his fingers back through his hair. “Admittedly, I picked you. I think I did pretty well.”

“You did? You do?”

Brent nodded solemnly. “You think Melissa wanted an au pair around? Someone to be a better mother than she is? If I weren't so busy, I'd have Carson to myself. That's why I'm so glad I picked you. I liked your resume. That presenter picture you included from that convention was cute.”

Your blush heated your face even more. Maybe Brent was just really forward and blunt like his wife? You shifted awkwardly in your seat when he took a step closer to you. “I'm glad I'm doing a good job,” you offered, tempted to slide off your chair before Brent took another step closer. 

“You're doing a fine job,” he spoke softly, “you remind me a lot of Melissa when I first met her. She always looked so eager to please.” At this he stepped between your knees. Your breath hitched in your throat as Brent stroked your hair behind your ear. Even as you clenched your legs, trying to shut him out, he leaned in even closer. “What about you? Are you eager to please?”

Shameful tears were already welling at the corners of your eyes as you thrashed against him, putting your fists up to fight him off. Brent grabbed your wrists in one hand, holding them tight with a disgustingly playful grin as his other hand trailed down to his belt. 

“Think about it,” he chided, “you're in a house in a city in a country on the other side of the planet. Can you really afford losing this job? Getting thrown out on the street?”

“Brent, please—“

“Call me Mr. Copeland,” he insisted. Brent neared despite your tearful grimace, his lips barely brushing yours before he was yanked off of you. You helplessly watched, relieved and terrified as Kun pulled him back and got in between you. 

“Jesus, Brent--” Kun spat, “what the fuck do you think you're doing?!”

Brent immediately squared up against him. He towered over you, but he was still half a head taller than Kun. “Why is it your business, boy? We were just having a nice chat.”

“Didn’t look too nice to me,” Kun shook his head firmly, “I think you should go.”

“I don’t think you should talk to me like that in my own fucking home,” Brent glowered. 

“And I don’t think I should tell Melissa that you hired an au pair just to fuck, but maybe we should both re-think things.” Kun stood his ground as Brent fumed, ultimately throwing a fist right for Kun that he managed to dodge. He tried again, this time Kun ducking and delivering his own punch to Brent’s stomach. Brent crumpled, the air knocked out of him as Kun grabbed your hand and your purse and pulled you into the door to the staff quarters. He flipped a lock on the inside of the door and marched you down the hall into his room as Brent knocked manically on the door. 

Kun closed his bedroom door behind him and instantly caught you as you fell into him, all your frightful tears catching up to you and spilling onto his chest. 

“Shh,” Kun soothed as he wrapped an arm back around your shoulders, careful not to overstep while you were in this state. He still held you close, stroking your hair. 

“What’re you doing back already?” You asked into his shoulder. 

“Been feeling off all week. Going out wasn’t helping, so I came back.”

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke into his shirt, dipping your head down into his chest. 

“Sorry? Why the hell are you sorry?” Kun grabbed your shoulders, pushing you back just enough to look into your eyes. His jaw was set firm, his eyes still wild with adrenaline and anger. 

“The other day when I saw you with Melissa by the pool,” you babbled, “I dunno, I just felt so jealous, and I just wanted you to pay attention to me like that, too, and it’s so stupid, Kun, I was so stupid--”

“No.” Kun said firmly. “That’s not stupid. You're not stupid. I should've talked to you instead of hiding away.” He let you go, taking a seat on the bed and exasperatedly pushing his face into his hands for a second. You took the opportunity to seat yourself at his desk, thankful that he chose the bed instead. “Melissa and I… It’s complicated. She’s lonely but she’s awful, and I need this job now that I have it. My name will be smeared all over town if I leave on bad terms, especially since I've never let her get everything she wants. But she still comes onto me, and even more since you came here.”

“So the other day?”

“I thought she was out at a meeting and I went for a swim. When I came up for air she was sitting there and got me to come out to talk and, well, you saw.” Kun’s eyes were downcast with his admission. “I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for what happened out there.”

“Is it true?” You asked. Kun perked his head back up to look at you. “Did Melissa not want me here?”

Kun sighed. “No.”

“Brent said she didn't want someone to come and be a better mother than her.”

“I know we've joked about it, but she's tried. It just hasn't come to her yet.”

“That's no excuse,” you shook your head, “she can only be so unaccepting. She can't hire me and hate me.”

“Sure she can. She’s stubborn.”

“That’s not fair, though.”

“No, it’s not.” Kun commiserated. 

The silence settled in the room as Brent finally finished knocking down the hall. 

“You look amazing, by the way.” Kun admitted quietly. 

“Only in this?”

Kun shook his head. “All the time, but especially in this.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“The whole… Melissa of it all. If I told you how beautiful are and how good talking to you feels, and how I adore how you taste my food and you don’t just eat it, and you talk to me and you don’t just listen… It would make everything difficult.”

Your patience hit the tipping point, and you were done waiting for something to happen for you. Kun watched curiously as you stood, crossing the couple short steps stand between his knees. His eyes closed as your fingertips pushed back through his hair, but they opened right back up as you gently lowered yourself onto his lap, your thighs on either side of his. Kun waited, wary of moving too fast for you. Only when you wrapped your arms around him did he return the gesture. You stroked his hair back again, and Kun took the hint to look into your eyes again. 

“So we could've done this a long time ago?”

“We should’ve,” Kun replied. His hands gently pulled you closer where they rested on the small of your back. That was all the confirmation you needed. Your fingers threading back through his hair, you gently, finally, lovingly pressed your lips to his. This loosened him up even more, instantly matching and accelerating your growing passion. 

“How much do--” he began asking against your neck as he placed a kiss below your ear. 

“--Everything,” you answered promptly, “I want to make up for missed time.”

“Everything?” He clarified. 

“Everything.”

Kun nodded with an eager grin, quickly sliding off his jacket and getting his fingers into the collar of his t-shirt. He pulled the shirt off and you were confronted with the heat coming off him. It was so inviting that you instantly reached for the zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it all the way down. You shrugged the sleeves off your shoulders, revealing the lacy bra you had on underneath. Kun nuzzled close, his hands gently on your breasts and trailing around back to the clasp as he drew your lips into another hungry kiss. 

“What if we’d been doing this all along?” You smirked as he tossed your bra onto the desk chair. You grabbed his shirt off the bed and did the same.

“Well, I don’t think I could leave you alone,” he laughed as he kissed and groped your breasts.  “It’d be pretty obvious that you're mine.”

“Think we could've prevented that out there?” You asked. Kun grimaced. 

“Don't talk about it, but for what it's worth, sure. Instead of being here you would be out with me at dinner.”

“Tell me I'm yours again,” you smiled sweetly as you kissed his neck, a giggle escaping you when he shivered in return. Kun grabbed you around the waist and laid you down on the bed. The hem of your slinky dress was already raised on your hips. He made quick work of pulling off your panties, tossing these onto the desk chair as well. 

“You’re all mine,” Kun said seriously as he laid against you, pressing up between your spread legs, “just like I'm all yours. And you only have to say so and I would leave with you.”

“You would?” You gasped as you reached between you to get his jeans open. His length warm in your hands drove you wild, all the emotions you were feeling only amplifying. 

“Absolutely,” Kun assured you as he ground into your hand, “you think working here will be the same?”

“What about Carson?” You breathlessly asked as Kun’s own fingers began exploring your entrance. 

“He’ll be fine as long as Ai’s here until she helps hire a new caretaker. And you’ll be fine. You’re going to be a perfect mother some day.” Those words made you throb in a way you never had before. Even Kun took notice of your interesting reaction as his firm cock probed into your dripping pussy. The wheels in his head visibly turned. “Are…” He carefully began, “are you on birth control?”

You nodded, catching up to his train of thought. A faint idea of what he meant was forming in your head, and you wanted to try. “Kun,” you breathed, “fuck me. Put a baby in me.”

Kun’s eyes lit up, the fire behind them practically burning you. “Say it again,” he ordered.

“Put a baby in me, Kun,” you begged sweetly. 

Kun’s cock throbbed hard in you as began to fuck you in earnest. “Alright, now never say it again if you don’t want me to cum instantly,” he laughed breathlessly as he thrust against you. 

“You sure? What if I ask you to cum in me and knock me up?” You smiled evilly and Kun groaned deep. He kissed you hard as you whined against him. 

“Or,” you teased, your high heels tangling behind his back, “What if I say I want to make you a daddy?”

Kun let out another loud groan, his hips faltering against you. “And definitely never say that again,” he laughed desperately. 

“Kun, Kun,” you pleaded, “it’s so good, you’re getting me there.”

“Yeah?” He gave you a naughty smile, “And you want me to cum, too, right? I'll fill you up and make you mine and put a baby in you?”

Your nails raked into Kun’s back, your feverish moans escaping you faster and more desperate as you neared your peak. 

“Cum for me,” Kun ordered, his lips trailing over your shoulder, “cum for me and I promise I'll fill you up.”

You cried out with your orgasm, your tensed thighs clamping around Kun’s hips and he followed right after. He fell against you, your moans and sighs echoing against each other as your throbbing heat milked his cock dry. The two of you curled up into a sweating heap, breathing each other in in the afterglow. 

“You meant it? About leaving together?” You finally asked. Kun panted his affirmation. 

“I do. I'll strike a deal with Brent. No blacklisting and I won’t rat him out.”

“What about Melissa, though?”

“I’ll tell her once I find a new job. It just won't be obvious it's me.”

“Alright,” you nodded, still catching your breath in Kun’s arms, “so why should I?”

“Because I love you,” he whispered in return, and your heart was fit to burst.

[valkerymillenia]

Hi, I asked about jason’s memory in my last ask in cbds. Thanks for answering. It made me wonder would jason gets flashes about his time with dick and the twins?I really admire your patience in writing your story. This is why i’ll fail as a writer, because i have absolutely no patience. I mean I would probably rush my story and that would make it turn bad.

Ok, so, no. At first Jason has no memory between his death and the Pit. Eventually though some things start to trigger pieces of memories that he doesn't really understand, his full memory takes quite a while to return and by then he's dug himself into too deep a hole.

Also, you sound EXACTLY like me when I started writing.

So I'mma ramble now. Feel free to ignore the boring story time beneath the cut but I promise it has a point, it's just bound to be long because I don't know what brevity is and when I'm sleep deprived I talk to much.

Before I started writing I always wanted to put stories down into words but I never ever considered writing books, I used to make elaborate fantasy worlds, characters and lives in my head that dragged on for weeks on end, slowly becoming more and more complex, it was pure escapism, but I never thought about writing those stories down precisely because I though "I'll never have the patience to develop this, I'll just rush it or quit halfway".

Then when I was in 10th grade there was a writing contest in my school and two of my cousins were teachers there and writers themselves and encouraged me to enter (there were 3 categories actually- teachers, 7th to 9th grade and 10th to 12th grade). I figured, why not?

The story had to be handwritten under a pseudonym with a 5 page limit (no word limit because it was handwritten, you just had to use standard test paper for 5 pages, and yes, this was normal because not everyone had access to a computer to type their work), it was fiction under the theme "stories of our people" and the judges were a panel of teachers and one famous writer (he had a very popular YA adventure series and some great mythology based novels, unfortunately he passed away a few years later).

Now, bear in mind 2 things. This was a school surrounded by forest in the hills of a small rural city but it was the biggest rural city around and all the other towns and villages sent their kids to high school there, the second thing to remember is that high school is mandatory education in my country so dropping out isn't really an option. Therefore we had hundreds of kids in the high school grades (somewhere between 600 and 800 kids, I think, there's less nowadays because the next town over grew immensely and has its own high school now).

You'd think kids wouldn't be interested in a writing competition but the author that was coming to judge was very popular at the time and, well, it was a high school in the middle of the woods in a small countryside town. Things were boring, ok? We didn't have a mall or a movie theater or anything, so when something popped up to break the boredom (or someone even remotely famous showed up) everyone jumped at it.

So a lot of people participated and me? I was just dragging my feet because "I didn't have the patience", I waited until the last two days before the deadline and poured out a story last minute with a shitty penname based on my mythology obsession (Valkery Thot, you can laugh about it nowadays but Thot was the Egyptian good of scribes and I was NERD).

The story was about two kids that never liked each other growing up even though they lived close to each other, they end up crossing paths on the same adventure to a local inaccessible waterfall we have here in the mountain, they were looking for treasure based on stories and maps from each of their grandfathers and find a cave together where they discover etchings left by said grandfathers and, long story short, the treasure was friendship.

(Sappy as hell, I know, but I was thinking the whole YA adventure mindframe, ok? Plus, it wasn't my preferred writing language, which is English, and I was 15 and literally improvised the whole thing last minute, didn't even draft anything, I just wrote it directly and barely proofread for typos.)

So I entered the contest last minute with no real hopes, it was just an experiment but it proceed to be way more entertaining than I though, without the pressure of actually wanting to win it was easier than I thought.

Award day came and we all gathered in this fancy huge auditorium we had, it was the fanciest part of the whole school but it still couldn't fit everyone in there, then again most students that came just wanted an excuse not to go to class that morning. Anyway...

One of my cousins won in the teacher category and I was all proud. I watched the 3 winners of the 7th to 9th grade category being awarded and started getting distracted (because unless I was drawing or stimming I had the attention span of a goldfish). Then the 10th to 12th grade category came and I was so distracted that they had to call me twice before I realized I'd won second place!

First place went to 12th grade boy that wrote a story called "The Message", very purple prose and perfect grammar, lovely story, but I digress.

Anyway, the famous author was the one to give me my prize and told me my story was very vivid, there were some typos but he was impressed by the creativity and the amount of action I packed into 5 pages while still giving it a satisfying ending. I barely grasped what the heck he was saying at the time because I still had this certainty that I bullshitted the whole thing last minute and couldn't even remember half of what I wrote but I asked him if he thought I "could be real writer someday" and he just said I already was a "real writer" because all it took to be a real writer was putting it it words, that and actually enjoying the world I made up.

It stuck with me. I didn't realize right away that that was my dream, that I wanted to be a novelist, I still wanted to be an artist and was stuck under all those expectations to choose a proper college path and career (I thought I could do law, AH! what was I thinking?!) but it really stuck with me and shortly after I started getting really deep into a side of fandom that I hadn't experienced before (because I never had much access to internet before that) and started to want to put my stories into words even if I never finished them, I still didn't think I had the patience or the originally.

A few years later I realized that when it comes to something I'm passionate about I do indeed have the patience, by age 12 I had already been writing long comprehensive character bios, story details, transcribed quotes, meta theories, summaries and collecting tons of info of all my favorite fandoms and not to share, just for fun (and probably OCD) this went on for years before I even found out that the internet had whole websites and encyclopedias for such things (not like today though but yeah), and it had never occurred to me the patience that that in itself required.

My first fics were atrocious! Mostly because I made A LOT of typos due to not being used to writing in English full time but my thoughts came more naturally in English and I didn't enjoy writing fiction in Portuguese anyway (poetry though? Absolutely), I also used extremely exaggerated plot points, be it drama, angst or romance. But people liked the stories for the content and not the accurate spelling so I kept at it. I never used to finish my fics back then, not due to lack of patience but mostly because I put too much pressure on myself to make a story perfect and would stop having fun.

When I started writing purely for fun and passion (and realized that not every story needed to be a novel length epic) that's when I started churning out my best (and ironically longest) stories and getting better and better.

I won't lie, having readers encouraging me was key, it's half of the fuel I need to keep going, outside interest is an incredible motivator, but mostly I just realized that the key to good writing is:

Less pressure + more passion = all the patience you need

This doesn't just apply to original work though, it's also about fanfic.

Holy crap, that was a lot of words just to sum everything up on that one bold sentence... See, I could never have written this much when I was in high school, that's also a matter of practicing until letting your thoughts out into writing becomes second nature but that's a whole other story.

Anyway... Thanks for the lovely message. It's the story of thing that means the world to me ❤️

(and PS- no, I haven't won any other contests since that one but I have published articles on magazines, no published novels yet though because I don't think my original ideas are ever good enough to follow through).

[keqingcatears]

Wolf Moon (Part 1)

Summary: Beacon Hills looked like a normal town on textbook, but creatures from fairy tales lurk in the dark unbeknownst to everyone. Serena Masters is one of these people. Former best friends to Scott and Stiles, Serena reunites with them after a frightful event that’s going to change the town forever and secrets will begin to unfold. This story will follow the plot line of TW with occasional changes to accommodate Serena’s backstory.

Characters/Pairings: Serena/OC, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Jackson Whittemore, Serena x Stiles!platonic 

Word Count: 1486 

A/N: no one asked for this but I’m so bored in quarantine rn and I’m rewatching TW and I was in a big writing mood. this is a project that was just for me to read and write but I decided to try and share my work for once so I don’t feel as lonely as I do writing. if anyone reads this and wants more i’ll be surprised ngl, but i hope you enjoy it!

________________________________________________________________

Serena walked quietly through the woods carefully so as to not disturb the tranquil night before the first day of second semester. She was supposed to be inside of her house sleeping but a friend had called her saying he was having some troubles. He didn’t say much but only that he was having family issues.  

She stopped walking and looked around. It was so dark she could barely see the branches except only when they appeared in front of the moon that lit them up. She was sure he was supposed to meet here but as far as she knew there was nothing. 

She took out her phone and typed a quick message to him. The sound of soft rustling caught her ears. Suddenly, a dark figure jumped out, his hands outstretched to catch her off guard. She predicted his movements just in time and grappled his arm to throw him to the ground. 

“You should be less noisy next time.” Serena dusted off her hands on her jeans. Little dark strands of her hair were tickling her face. She brushed them away to stop them from sticking to her. 

Her friend let out a grunt and pushed himself up. “And you haven’t changed much. Except for the fact that you grew and got stronger it seems.” He popped out his muscles to release the pain and tension. 

A soft smile appeared on her lips. “Well, Derek, I am maturing. It’s only natural I get stronger.” She noticed his dark eyebrows were furrowing over and over. “Is everything okay though? You called at an alarming time.”

Derek let out a deep sigh almost like he was gasping for his last breath. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Serena patiently waited for him to speak up knowing it was best that she shouldn’t push him to talk. 

“It’s Laura. She’s dead.”

Serena’s heart rate picked up but she willed herself to calm down. “Like natural causes?” She knew that was a stupid question but she didn’t want to believe that an Alpha could die so easily. A small part of her somehow knew it was anything but sickness. 

“Murder. Another werewolf.” Derek’s jaws tensed up. She could tell this was already hitting him like a truck. He lost another family member, his sister at that. Excluding Derek and his uncle, she wondered if there were even more of his family alive. At this point, it seems like his lineage might come to an end. 

Then it struck her. His last comment. “Another werewolf? But who would be targeting Laura?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said. His eyes were cast down onto the ground. “I just need you to be careful and keep an eye out. You’re the only one I can trust right now.”

“Of course. And you as well.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” 

“You almost got beaten by a fifteen year old girl.”

He rolled his eyes. “That was just luck.”

“And you’re just not admitting defeat.” Serena walked to his side and patted his chest. “Be safe and have a good night!” With that, she strolled back towards the entrance of Beacon Hills Reserves. 

#

“Thanks for the ride, Lydia,” Serena said slinging her backpack over her shoulders. 

Lydia checked herself out in her side mirrors before flipping a strand of her strawberry-blonde curls behind her. “No problem. We didn’t want you coming in one of those dingy school buses on the first day back.”

“But I don’t ride the bus?”

“Oh still, we don’t want to ruin our image.”

“You mean your image.” 

“Exactly. Now, come on.” Lydia stuck out her arm for Serena to loop her own arm through and the two of them walked to the front of the school.

While passing by Serena noticed two old faces standing by and talking. One with a buzz cut and the other with shaggy hair. Scott and Stiles. She would already hear Stiles’ voice excitedly go off about something while Scott stood with the same lop-sided smile on his face. As they were passing by, she barely heard Stiles make a comment about Lydia not even paying much attention to her. If only she could punched that stupid smile off of his face. 

Serena loves Lydia like her own sister but my god she despises Stiles for being head over heels for her. She never forgave him for what he did to her. 

First period was English, and of course she had to have the same class with them. She sat right of Scott while Stiles sat behind and diagonally from his own best friend. Before class started, Scott had shot her a smile earning him one back. 

“As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night,” the teacher began. 

Serena's eyes shot wide open. A body? Laura’s body? 

“And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester.”

The groan of students was evident that nobody wanted to read the syllabus but the teacher chose to ignore it anyways. Before class could continue, the door opened and the vice principal walked in with a pretty young girl in tow. She shyly looked around.

“Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

A crease appeared between Serena’s brow. She wasn’t sure what caused the confused reaction but she was sure she heard the name before, but where? The vice principal left the room as Allison made her way to the empty seat behind Scott. 

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s Metamorphosis, on page one thirty-three,” the teacher said. Serena did what was told and began to zone out. 

#

“There’s a new girl in school. Her name is Allison Argent, quite pretty too.” Serena met up with Lydia by her locker after the day ended. 

“And you’re telling me because?”

Serena playfully rolled her eyes. “Because I think she’s nice and she could use a few friends. You’re the most popular girl in the school, why not say hi?” Just then, dark curly locks caught her eye at the end of the hallway. She nudged her friend. “Her. That’s Allison.” Lydia took a few seconds inspecting the girl like some juicy prey out in the wild. She could hear a slight hum coming out of her. 

“Let’s go,” Lydia announced, shutting her locker and clicking her boots away to the shy new girl. 

Serena followed suit behind the determined girl but halted when she noticed Scott and Stiles opposite of Allison’s locker. Usually, their presence didn’t faze her but the way Scott froze in place made her question what he was doing. He was already odd to begin with but not that odd to stare from afar. She told herself not to listen to their own conversation and turned back to Lydia and Allison.

“You know Serena, right?” Lydia nudged her forward. 

“Oh yeah, we have English together,” Allison said.

“Lucky you. You have one of the smartest kids in your classes.”

Serena scoffed. “I’m not that smart.”

“Says the one who’s dad is literally an English professor at UCLA.”

A small burst of air whizzed past and someone wrapped their arms around Lydia’s small waist. “Hey Jackson.” She turned around and gave the handsome lacrosse player a kiss. “So, this weekend, there’s a party.”

“A party?” Allison asked. 

“Yeah, Friday night,” Jackson confirmed.

“You should come! It’ll be fun,” Serena added. 

Allison shrugged. “Uh, I can’t. It’s family night this Friday. Thanks for asking.” 

Jackson furrowed his brows. “You sure? Everyone’s going after the scrimmage.”

“You mean like football?” 

Everyone chuckled except for Allison.

“Football’s a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We’ve won the state championship for the past three years.”

Lydia brushed at his gelled hair. “Because of a certain team captain.”

Serena didn’t want to be one to correct her saying Jackson was only a sophomore making it possible that he only had one state championship under his belt. Then again, she knew Lydia was smart enough to know and this whole thing was an act. 

“Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don’t have anywhere else--”

“Well, I was going to--”

Lydia gripped a cuff of Allison’s jacket. “Perfect, you’re coming!” Lydia gestured for Serena to follow behind and she was going to until she noticed Scott’s vacant stare in their direction. She politely waved but when Stiles made eye contact with her she immediately dropped her hand and glared right back. 

She turned her heel and marched with the group. The last thing she heard was Stiles’ saying “She’s still mad?”

[early-sxnsets]

Just Tell Me Why

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957728

Word Count: 3016

Summary: Simon's got a regular coming in looking a little worse for wear on a rainy afternoon. Despite their seemingly mutual distaste for one another, they come together over sweet treats and dried tears. (Coffee Shop AU)

Notes: thank you to @jessethejoyful for going over this super quick! i basically got the idea for this, wrote it, got it edited, then published it all within 6 hours so big thanks to her for help! also, there’s a spotify playlist to go with about half the fic’s background music. this is Simon’s Nightshift playlist!

The rain patters outside, a repetitive tapping against the long, paper-covered windows. Adverts, local band posters, cram-session times and business cards close off the shop from most of the outside world, leaving a multicolored, softened haze of light to filter in. Each lamp, each overhead light buzzes in this world, closing us off from the stampering around outside as students rush to one place or another.

I hear the chime of the doorbell and the soft shuffling of feet against the straw welcome mat before the steps approach the front. The soft mutter of “Shit” and the droplets of water from a flicked head land on me, turning my attention away from the case as I refill the cookie plates.

Oh. It’s him. “Basilton,” I hiss with my most forced smile, which only falters as I notice his eyes. Blood red. Oh. His cheeks aren’t wet from the rain, they’re red on their own terms. Great, this bloody prick somehow made me feel bad for him (even if it is in the slightest).

He sneers down at me, shaking another hand through his hair as he clearly tries to keep composure. “The usual, will you?”

“Yeah, fine. Anything else?”

He drags his eyes over the restocked case and I watch him fix his cuffed sleeves. The ends are damp in spots, as if they were moping something up rather than hit by drops. “Unless there’s toffee bars in the back.”

If he didn’t come in looking as depressing as he does, I would’ve just said no and left it at that, but I know for a fact that there’s some that are still cooling (even though they’re not set enough to really sell). I hesitate, looking up to meet his eyes. They tear away from mine. “Yeah, actually, there are. One or two?”

“Tw—one. One.”

“Riiigghhhttt… I’ll grab two.”

He sends a glare over my way, but straightens himself out again. “Fine.” His hand reaches into the inside breast of his jacket, digging in for his wallet as I raise a hand, grabbing my own out of my back pocket.

“I’ve got it,” I say sternly, not leaving wiggle room for him to protest.

He simply clears his throat, head turning away as his throat clears. I’m sure he won’t give me a thank you, but his off-turned nod is quite enough before he heads off to take a seat in the far corner, opening his messenger bag and pulling out a laptop.

The harsh blue of the screen illuminates his face. The only other light near him is a table-lamp on the other side of the sofa, and it’s the dimmest one in the whole shop.

Sometimes, whenever Penny comes in to sit at the bar and bother me, she comments on how he looks like this.

“He’s so angular,” she’d whisper, narrowing eyes as she stared blatantly. He didn’t seem to notice. “Looks like Dracula’s nephew.” This is, though, after I’d blabbered to her for at least an hour or two the night before about how I catch him staring at me. She thinks I’m being ridiculous about all this. “He stares at me, Penny, like without moving his head and just lifting his eyes oh dear god he’s plotting some shit, and I saw the way he watches Agatha whenever she’d come in and we’d steal a kiss on my break and Christ, Penny, he’s going to pull some shit have you seen how ridiculously handsome he is fuck him.”

Two things were decided that night. 1) How much wine is too much wine for me, and 2) We have a “Baz-cap”, or a cap to how much we talk about Mr. Coffee-Shop.

That was, of course, until we saw him off taking Agatha’s hand right before an exam, talking to her by a bathroom carve-out.

That cut it. Agatha broke it--the whole relationship thing--off with me, and I went from having a bitter spat with him each time he’d come in to barely dealing with him, if I can help it.

Except now, I suppose.

He looks down at his laptop screen, lips drawn to a tight line as he clacks away. I take notice that in pauses between words, his fingers hesitate and tremble in the slightest. He swallows sharply, blinking so much that he can’t not be crying.

Well, shit. I put together his frankly overly sweet order of some latte with six pumps of butterscotch, pushing through the swinging door to the back and getting a plate together of two toffee-bars (throwing on a vanilla bean cake-pop because, for some reason, I briefly care).

Swiftly, I take hold of his drink and bring it over to him with a slight yet genuine smile.

There’s a gentle clink of the plate hitting the plastic bowl on the table as I set it down, followed by the gentle swishing sound of his egregiously pre-diabetic drink as I rest it beside his food. He glances up at me, then down to the plate before dragging his eyes back to mine. “You seemed to have left something extra there.”

“I know I did. Seemed like you needed it.”

He scoffs quietly, the sound dragging through the back of his throat. “Is this why people gravitate towards you, Snow?” he grumbles half-heartedly, picking up one of the bars and a napkin. It dips a bit in the middle, still obviously a little too fresh. He doesn’t seem to mind. “Your hero complex?”

“I don’t have a hero complex. I just like being nice, you should try it.”

He makes the sound again, biting into the treat. I watch as he chews slowly, dragging his eyes up to mine. He swallows all showily. “Should I? I’ve gotten far enough without it.”

“Yeah, you should. It’ll get you your own girlfriend instead of havin’ to creep up on someone else’s,” I mumble back, leaning down to clean the discarded dishes beside him and giving it a good once over with my rag. He stares at me, and I swear I can hear him laughing.

Scratch that, he is laughing, somewhat a bitter twinge to his voice. I force my head up, eyebrows knit together in frustration. “Oh fuck yo—“

“You think I want your girlfriend, Snow?”

“You can already have her, tosser.”

“I don’t want her.”

I stare at him, and I catch him staring back. His laugh has far gone and disappeared into a slightly lowering brow and drawn in lips. His eyes scan around my face, the space between us all static-y. “Alright…” I draw, completely unconvinced. “Then what the hell happened last year?”

“She came onto me, Snow,” he says flatly. “It’s not my fault your girlfriend likes me better.”

Something inside stops me from spitting on him and calling him a prick. It’s the same part of me that actually cared that this arse came in crying. “Ex. She’s my ex, now.”

His brow arches, like it usually does when I tell him off, but it doesn’t have the energy of me about to be punched in the face. Instead, he’s inquisitive. “Oh. Ex?”

“Ex,” I sigh, pausing for a second. “Why don’t you want her? Everyone wants her.”

“Not my type,” he replies, a little too quickly.

I think he notices this too, because for the first time in minutes he drags his gaze back to his computer screen, finishing his thoughts as he types. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not after her, Snow. Don’t let me stop you from your… fantasy world, hero.”

The way he punctuates the end makes me bite my tongue again, holding the words trying to urge out as I clean the surrounding tables and take back the cups.

The clock ticks on as I fill the dishes into the sink. The café’s closed in four hours, and each time I peer out, it seems to still be dead silent. I stop, occasionally, to serve a customer.

The outside world darkens, drawing into a sunset before sinking back into a world only illuminated by yellowed streetlights. Most people leave, the rain having let up for about 15 minutes and setting a cue for the dining area to clear out.

Only a few stay, one of whom is Baz.

I chew on my bottom lip, hand floating over the Spotify playlist for the shop. It’s been on “Rainy Day” since before my shift started, so I just scroll down and pick “Simon’s Nightshift” and hit shuffle. It starts echoing out as I turn to keep cleaning and just standing for a time, taking out a book to try to read. It doesn’t last, and I clean around as mostly everyone trickles out of the shop slowly.

As the rain fully picks back up to a roll, it’s just Baz and I left inside.

After nearly 10 minutes on internal conflict, I grab the last few scones in the case (the other batch in the oven) and take a seat in the plush, leather armchair adjacent to him.

Slowly, his head rises and he gives me a bored look. The redness in his eyes has all but gone, but he still seems overall unsteady. It half stops me from even saying anything, but I push through the bubble and let it pop in my hands. “Do you have someone to talk to?”

He cocks his brow at me again, pursing his lips and clearly thinking over his words (or maybe mine). “Are you asking if I would wish to speak to you about my problems?” he draws, and the way he puts it makes me feel like I’m back as a toddler when the teachers would ask me if I understood English because I was so quiet.

The pit of my stomach churns as I forcefully stuff half the scone in my mouth. My stomach doesn’t want it to go down. I force it down anyway. “Yeah, I guess.”

He exhales exasperatedly. “What are you, a shrink?”

My shoulders shrug up, then sag. “I’m just someone who’s bored at work with nothing better to do. Least I could do is pester you.”

The clacking of his keys halts as Baz stares down at his knuckles. They wrap in, then extend once more. I watch as he drums against the surface of the keyboard before shutting the lid. “Okay. Fine. Do you truly want to know?”

I nod more encouragingly than I mean. Or, maybe I do mean it and I just don’t really want to admit it, even to myself. That’s what Penny thinks I do, at least; hide stuff from myself.

I listen to him sigh as my eyes flicker down to the rest of the scone I’m stuffing in my mouth.

Baz rubs his index finger and thumb against his temple as the exhale lengthens. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this of all people,” he mutters under his breath before straightening out and looking me in the eyes. I feel his next exhale. “My mother died years back and while looking through an old textbook of hers for a course, a picture of her and I fell out. It had a message from her on it, and it got to me. There. Happy?”

I blink a little, noticing that I still haven’t swallowed yet. I do that before continuing. “Baz…”

“Don’t start with the pitying shit, Snow. I don’t want to hear it,” he snaps, looking at his hands deliberately. “I’ve heard it quite enough before.”

“No, Baz, I—“

“I said to shut it,” he says, voice as hard as an edge as he shoves his backpack into the large pocket of his bag. “Just… forget it.”

“Baz?”

He sucks in a breath as I lay a hand on his knee, my plate setting on the table as he stares. His eyes transfix on each and every part of my hand, seeming to follow the veins and the scars scattering my weathered knuckles. It takes a moment before his eyes close and I’m nearly positive he’s on the brink of tears. It takes a moment of his mouth flying open before I cut him off this time.

“Why did you come here of all places?”

There’s a hesitation in his movements, but he keeps his knee in place as his waist shifts to face me more before opening his eyes. “What does it matter to you? This is very atypical of you, either way, not telling me to piss off.”

“Christ, Baz, I’m not heartless, especially when someone’s crying.” My voice lowers as I shift, the leather of my seat squeaking. “Plus, if you’re not swooping in to snag my girlfriend—or ex, but that doesn’t matter—fuck it, why did you go along with the fighting?”

He seems taken aback by my conversation shift, but his knee draws in and sends my hand back to my lap. “Does it matter?”

I shrug, hands laying together in my lap and playing a bit with twiddling thumbs and an anxious tug at my heart. Why does it matter so much? “Guess not. I just… I dunno, don’t like the fighting?”

“So you suggest we forgo the bitterness?”

“I mean, that’s what we’re doing right now, innit?”

He glances to meet my eyes and takes a second. “I suppose we are.”

I smile a little, sitting up straighter with a growing grin. “Good, glad that’s settled.” I pause before saying what else is on my mind, but the timer for the oven beeps and I launch myself up and run over to pull everything out.

By the way Baz was packing, I expect the couch to be empty by the time I return, but instead he’s sitting there with his phone by his face, thumbs in a pattern of scrolling. I bite my lip, hesitating before leaning over the counter and giving him a smile. “Oi,” I whisper, a twinkle in my eyes as he glances up to me, hair falling in soft waves against the sharp angles of his face. It makes my heart race a little more than I’d care to admit. “You want something absolutely amazing?”

“Is this a friendly offer?”

“This is a peace treaty, now, will you take it?”

“I suppose,” he mulls, the click of his iPhone sounding over the soft thump of the music. “What is it?”

“Fresh scones.”

He blinks. “What’s so amazing about them?”

I pout a little, taking one over and sitting directly next to him this time. “Just… taste it. It’s so much better like this; fresh from the oven.” I pry open his hand, pressing one onto his palm and watching him happily. I nearly swear I see him smile. “Well then? Go on, eat it.”

His hand slowly raises to his lips, taking a bite and chewing slowly. “I swear, you’re trying to fatten me up tonight,” he grumbles before swallowing, but I don’t see him complain as he goes for another bite.

A soft, pleased sigh lets out of my nose as I sit back against the armrest, grinning. I wait until he finishes before letting myself finish my thought from before I broke the moment. “Why the hell do you stare at me?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Because you’re a trainwreck, and I can never look away,” he quips, but any malicious intent slides right past him.

“Is that really it?” I dare, pressing him further. “Because I wouldn’t come right here if my I found my mum’s left note.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have a dead mum, do you?”

“I don’t know,” I say flatly, shrugging. “I don’t know my mum. I grew up in the system.”

He blinks, narrowing his eyebrows for a moment before letting it slip off. “Interesting.”

I stop myself from making any comment beyond that, chewing on my lip. “I want to know, though,” I say quieter than before, “why you’d come here. Why you came here so much even though we had a big tiff. Why you stare at me.”

Baz’s eyes don’t look up as he chews on his last bite of scone, staring right through the chairs across the room. “Move past that, Snow.”

“Why?”

“You don’t want the answer.”

“Maybe I do.”

He pauses mid chew, freezing for seconds before swallowing and turning his head to look at me, sitting all curled up to myself and pressed up against the arm. He looks so unsure; fuck, no, he looks scared. He starts shifting in his seat, glancing around like a cornered animal trying to find an exit. “Snow…”

Something about the tremble in his hand floors me and, honestly, I can’t give an explanation for what follows. It’s like my brain shuts off between then and now, with my lips pressed up against Baz’s.

My hand’s wrapped tightly around the previously shaking hand, trying to steady them as my lips press a tad forcefully against his and I can swear he’ll recoil and slam a fist into my nose, but something in him softens for a split second as I decide to pull back. His eyes, moments before open, are now shut, and mouth open in the slightest.

Oh, fuck it.

I lean my head back in, and this time, his hand flies up to brush against my cheek as he finally kisses back and my heart is pounding against my ribcage, telling me that this, this is the answer I was looking for.

He tastes like all the sweets he packs into himself; he tastes like the sour cherry scone I’d forced onto him. He tastes like everything I’ve wanted from him.

After every bit I take from his mouth, after minutes that feel like an eternity, he lets back and watches me through heavily lidded eyes and breathes through parted, shining lips. “How long ‘til closing?”

My eyes dart up to the clock, but something in my chest tugs. I bet Ebb wouldn’t mind if I closed a tad early because the weather… “Fuck it, right now,” I whisper back, going in for another kiss.

[shazzeaslightnovels]

Reading Log - April 2019

Volume Count: 8

My first month without Saekano and I finished off Iriya no Sora, UFO no Natsu and read all my volumes of Ankoku Kishi wo Nugasanaide. I also read Cafe de Blood, a one-shot by the author of Psycome and started Slime Taoshite 300-nen, Shiranai Uchi ni Level Max ni Nattemashita and Saijaku Muahi no Bahamut.

This post does contain spoilers for Iriya no Sora, UFO no Natsu vol. 4, but other than that are no spoilers. I put the mini-review for Iriya at the very bottom of the post so you can easily avoid spoilers.

(Finally figured out how to shrink image sizes so I can put the volume covers to make this post look more interesting. Yay! Let me know if they aren’t visible to you.)

Ankoku Kishi wo Nugasanaide 2 & 3 by Shinichi Kimura

Putting these under the same entry because my feelings on them didn’t differ much between them. After my lukewarm feelings on the first volume, I didn’t have much hope that the following volumes would be better and I was right. I was rewatching Kore wa Zombie desu ka? and I didn’t like it nearly as much as I used to so it’s possible that I’ve just grown out of this type of humour but I do think that KoreZom is better than this series as Ayumu really stands out as a protagonist while Kurama lacks anything that makes him interesting. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes but that’s it. The reader has no reason to care about him. The other major issue is that I found the scenes to be too long so I would start a scene being somewhat interested but would quickly get bored before it was over. Volume 2 was a little bit better than volume 1 but volume 3 introduced a perverted lesbian character who doesn’t understand the meaning of consent and my views of this series dropped to rock-bottom. I do think that it’s possible to enjoy this series if you’re into this kind of humour and found KoreZom to be hilarious but I won’t be buying any future volumes.

Slime Taoshite 300-nen, Shiranai Uchi ni Level Max ni Natteshimatta 1 by Kisetsu Morita

It took me 10 days to read this which is a lot longer than I usually take for a volume of this size. Amazon lists the volume as 281 pages while BookWalker says it’s around 320 pages. Either way, it felt like the page count was pushing it for a story where not a whole lot happens. It was relaxing at first but I quickly got bored of it. For most of the volume, each chapter introduces a character and you get to spend a little bit of time with them before moving on to the next character. And I don’t think it spent enough time getting me to care about the character it just introduced before moving on to the next one so I didn’t really care when the “climax” happened. Also, I don’t think the 300 years thing was really thought out - it’s just there to get Azusa at an OP level but we barely know what she did for those 300 years. We know that she read a lot, killed slimes, learned how to use herbs to make medicine and helped some villagers but I want to know what kind of books she read because you would think that after 300 years of reading books, she would be quite knowledgeable in just about every field but other characters still have to explain things to her for the sake of the reader. Another issue I had with this volume is that even though Azusa is a female protagonist, she’s not really written like one. The series still uses a male gaze. A really good example of this is when Halkara is introduced and the first thing Azusa notices about her is her large boobs and butt and not in a yuri way but more of in a breast envy way. You could change her into a male character and not much would change. I don’t think this will bother too many people but it sure did bother me. In general, I think this series will be a good relaxing series but it lacks any overall direction to be an entertaining series. I’d recommend if you want to take it easy and I’d especially recommend it if you’re learning Japanese and want to read a story set in a fantasy a world as it’s pretty easy to read though there are a couple of tricky parts. If you want a slice of life set in a fantasy world, this would probably do the trick.

I’m not sure if I will continue with this series. I can see that it has some nice elements to it and I do feel like the series will feature more yuri in future volumes if the covers are anything to go by but I’m not sure it’s the series for me so we’ll have to wait and see.

The manga version of this is pretty good. It has a cute art style (though I prefer Benio’s art in the original) and is a 1:1 adaptation but doesn’t improve the source material much so it’s probably not worth reading unless it’s the only version of the story you have access to or you really like the novels.

Yen-press is currently publishing this series in English under the title of I’ve Been Killing Slimes for 300 Years and Maxed Out My Level so please pick it up if the series interests you.

Cafe de Blood by Mizuki Mizushiro

This is a one-shot from the author of Psycome and it’s kind of what you’d expect from the title: it’s about a café that serves vampires blood and the human male who works there. It’s not terrible but it’s pretty plain and the heroine doesn’t stand out much. While I do think that people who like vampires would find this worth the read, it features one of the more plain versions of vampires that I’ve seen. There’s also some pretty annoying stuff in it like a paedophile/lolicon vampire who talks in a mangle of English and Japanese and is super annoying as well as a character who’s only function seems to be to have big boobs. It might have been a good first volume for a longer series but it’s not a memorable one-shot. If you liked PsyCome, I do think you would like this a lot but I just found it too plain to care much for it. I do love Namanie’s art style though so that was definitely the highlight of the book for me.

Saijaku Muhai no Bahamut 1 by Senri Akatsuki

Little known fact about me: I actually really like this kind of school battle fantasy. I know most of them follow the same template but I’ve always enjoyed reading them anyway and I enjoyed this volume a lot. I loved the characters and their interactions, I loved the battles and I loved the atmosphere that comes with these kinds of stories. Don’t get me wrong, Bahamut is far from being original but reading this volume was so much fun and I got really interested in the plot. I love that Lisha’s a geeky mechanic and I love that the story has the old empire being corrupt while most modern light novels would make this a story about Lux manipulating everyone into getting him back on the throne. I do think that the exposition was sometimes awkward and I don’t think this would be a fun read for people who place importance in originality but I certainly had fun with it. I was surprised by how much I liked this given that I remember reading this volume in English a few years back and not caring for it but I did and I can’t wait to read the second volume for my girl Krulcifer.

The anime adapts this volume into 2 episodes and cuts out a lot of good character moments but I think they probably made the right call as so many light novel adaptations have failed due to the staff’s unwillingness to do anything but a 1:1 adaptation (Seirei Tsukai no Blade Dane comes to mind; I don’t know anyone who really enjoyed this series prior to volume 4 but the anime only adapts the first 3 volumes). The anime has really clumsy exposition even more so than the light novel. I liked the novel more but I think the anime serves as a good advertisement for the series so, if the anime got you interested in the plot, I highly recommend checking out the light novels.

The manga is a closer adaptation and it’s fine but the novels are better. The manga does make some interesting character design choices though like making the teacher indistinguishable from the students. Probably wouldn’t recommend the manga unless you don’t have access to the light novels.

Juuou Mujin no Fafnir by Tsukasa

And here I thought Bahamut had clumsy exposition but at least it only provided the reader with information on a need-to-know basis and spread it out over the volume. Fafnir just gives it to you in the first couple of chapters and the battle mechanics are way to complicated to do that. In my opinion, the author should have made the battle mechanics more simple or spread it out more instead of dumping it at the start and hoping the reader paid attention when it becomes relevant later. Otherwise, I didn’t really like this volume but I didn’t hate it either. I think the story has potential and Iris is a charming main heroine and I enjoyed seeing her character and relationship with Yuu grow throughout the volume. But, aside from Iris and maybe Mitsuki, none of the characters really stand out. Yuu’s your typical protagonist with a bit of a snarky attitude and a dark past. I’ve seen worse protagonists but he doesn’t strike me as particularly interesting and characters like Lisa and Firill don’t really do much and are just kind of there. That has the potential to change in future volume but it’s an issue in this one. I will probably continue with this as I remember being fond of the later volumes when I read them in English but it might be take a while to get around to.

I won’t be covering the manga or anime on this blog as I don’t have easy access to them.

Dokuhaki Hime to Hoshi no Ishi by Izuki Kougyoku

Last month, I talked about Torikago Miko to Seiken no Kishi which is actually a spin-off to this novel which in turn is a sequel to Mimizuku to Yoru no Ou. I didn’t mention this then because I didn’t realize that characters from Torikago Miko would actually show up in this. I just thought they were in the same setting. And it’s been so many years since I read Mimizuku that, while I know that some of these characters are from Mimizuku, I wouldn’t be able to tell you exactly which ones. Regardless, this didn’t impede my enjoyment of this novel at all so I don’t think that reading Mimizuku is required to understand and enjoy this story.

Regarding the work itself, I really liked it. I think it was a perfect one-shot that was incredibly compelling. I loved Elsa. She’s very different from the usual female protagonist in that the best ways that I could describe her at the start of the story are “feral”, “angry” and “broken”. She’s experienced so much abuse in her life and I think this story is really about healing after so much trauma and finding a place that will accept you where you can be free to be whoever you want. I really enjoyed that theme of the story. I didn’t find Claudius to be that interesting of a character but he’s a nice guy and I’m glad that Elsa found someone to support her. I recommend this work if you want to read a fantasy story that’s really about healing, especially if you’re a fan of fairy-tale inspired stories.

I’d be interested in doing a closer re-read of this in the future and doing a proper essay-type post on the themes because I think there’s a lot going on underneath the surface of the story here and I think there’s a lot to say about how Elsa is the only character to express her anger and sadness in a straight-forward manner while everyone else tends to be more passive-agressive about it.

THE FOLLOWING REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR IRIYA NO SORA, UFO NO NATSU 4! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Iriya no Sora, UFO no Natsu 4 by Mizuhito Akiyama

Before I read this volume, I was panning on doing a full review of the series but, before the first 100 pages of the volume were over, someone tries to sexually assault Iriya. I do not know whether this attempt was successful or not because, as soon as I realized what was happening, I had to skip through the scene. This scene is incredibly poorly done. We never get to see Iriya’s POV of this event either during or after it happens. Instead, the story decides to continue to focus on Asaba and how stressed he is. Perhaps I’m thinking too hard about it but the fact that this scene is juxtaposed with a scene of Asaba acquiring a porn mag and masturbating and that adolescence is a primary theme of the series makes me think that this scene is meant to imply that “boys desire girls while girls get to be desired” as neccesary part of adolescence. Furthermore, at the end of the volume, Iriya dies and it feels like she got fridged for the sake of Asaba’s character. And, to be honest, Iriya has never really felt like a proper character to me. She’s always felt too perfect to be one. The only time she felt like one was during the eating battle with Akiho. We’ve never gotten the story from her POV and that prevents her from becoming a proper character like the others. She feels like an idealised Mysterious Girl who motivates the other characters but has no real motivation for herself. Part of this is undoubtably because of when it was written but I can’t overlook these flaws because of that, espcially since I was around the ages of 3 and 5 when this was written so I don’t feel that same nostalgia that this series is trying to make me feel. I never went to middle school either and Australia high schools are very different from Japanese ones so I feel none of the nostalgia that this series is praised for.

I think this series has it’s charming moments and it’s not as though this volume was boring but I just can’t overlook the things I’ve mentioned. I could only really recommend this series if you are interested in the history of light novels or you are interested in reading a coming-of-age story with a bit of sci-fi.

[b4kuch1n]

two ghosts in Morioh

another day of running around taking care of businesses with my mom. Got some down time in the afternoon and spent it on this. yes Im a fluff writer now. somebody take me out the back

warning for non-plot, terrible poetry (Im serious. Ive never written a poem in english before. its not too nice to the hand), a filler OC thrown in on the spot, lotsa outta-nowhere headcanons, and all else possibly applicable. 

Read on AO3 

Okuyasu finally picked up.

Which was a good thing, because Josuke didn't wanna seem fussy or overbearing. 'twas a lost cause anyway, his mom would tell him, given that he had been anxious ever since he came home from the supposed double date that afternoon, and had walked from one end of the hall to the other over forty time (yes, she counted up until forty), mumbling to himself, hands firmly in his pants' pockets because he knew the moment he stopped holding it tight he would ruin his pomp by running his hand through his hair in frustration. An emotion that he caused to himself, his mom would remind him, because he refused to just walk over to Okuyasu's house and knock.

When the boy in question finally picked up, Josuke was a bit stiff from the draft in the hallway as well as from the tension built up by being stubborn. Okuyasu's voice only just managed to break through.

“Josuke?”

He sounded a bit hoarse. “Yeah, dude, I'm here,” Josuke said. The tension didn't leave him immediately like he hoped. “You didn't come.”

“Fuck, sorry about that. I'm jus'... 'm not in the best mood right now. Didn't wanna ruin it for you guys.”

“Shit, what happened? You okay?” Josuke could hear something fell on the floor with a metallic clunk. “What's that?”

“Oh it's-- 's the paint can. I'm fixin' up big bro's room upstairs. Been meaning to for a while now so... It's.” Okuyasu trailed off.

Josuke felt his shoulders stiffen up a bit more.

“It's some'n to do.”

Josuke bit his lip. After a moment of consciously picking off all traces of anxiety from his manners, he said, calmly, “I'm gonna come over.”

“No, dude, y'don't have to!” Okuyasu immediately barked, with something like panic in his tone. “I'm a bummer right now,” he added, almost sheepishly. “It's dumb, it'll go away on its own. Jus' some'n from the class.”

“Don't even think of it as me coming over to comfort you if that's better.” Josuke had to actively try to stay nonchalant now. “I'm helping with the room fixin'. It's gonna take the rest of the night with just you. That cool?”

He just caught his free hand moving towards his head on its own when Okuyasu sighed and he could hear the paint can being picked up. “Fine. I'm gonna be upstairs, let yaself in when you're over.”

By August 1999, Okuyasu had been sleeping in the guest room downstairs for ten months.

Keicho was a private person, and nobody could blame him at that. No kid would want to leave their toys trailing about when their father was so quick to anger. Keicho had faced so much of that misdirected rage, had put himself between his father and his younger brother so many times, that anything he had that wasn't broken he held on with an almost death grip. His routines, his CD collection, his rules, his own anger. He never learned to let go, and Okuyasu, whom Morioh had given more chances than it ever did his brother, had been feeling something like pity for that, and then guilty for pitying his brother.

He didn't really want to use Keicho's room again, especially when he never got his brother's permission. When Keicho had left balancing the book in Okuyasu's hand, their life became a clash between Okuyasu's fussing about trying to take care of things and Keicho's own rhythm and order, the solution to which that they came up with being that Keicho got the entirety of the second floor to himself. Okuyasu didn't mind – everything was simple with him, really – but after Keicho's death he felt even more out of place in that part of the house.

“It's fine if you wanna seal it off, dude,” Josuke told him one evening when he stayed the night, “you're the one living here. It's not like people know or care about that stuff, either way.” Josuke was smart, but he also believed in courtesy and manners even though he had been subjected to so much of the opposite of that, and it made for a strange kind of trust in humanity. One that was different from Okuyasu's own.

So in the end he decided to only seal Keicho's room. He had been slowly packing everything his brother left behind in the house into small carboard boxes and stashing them in the hallway. He wanted to keep a whole afternoon and evening free just to fix up the room itself, but he didn't think today would be it.

“Yeah, Koichi actually steered me home the moment we were sure you wouldn't show,” Josuke said mid-sweep. “I don't think Yukako mind. Actually I'm pretty sure Yukako doesn't really want me there third wheeling them. Gotta say I was about the same.”

“Sorry for leaving you hangin',” Okuyasu repeated, just as apologetic as when he said it the first time.

“It's not your fault you aren't well, dude,” Josuke stood up straight, free hand in his pocket. “Though a word beforehand would be good. But you were home late from the class, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Goto-sensei holding you up again?”

“Nah, he's nice.” He would be, after Josuke and Okuyasu dragged him out of some serious troubles last month. He was also a nice man in general. Okuyasu thought his writing style really didn't reflect that.

Josuke raised an eyebrow at his answer. Well, Josuke would have a different impression of Mister Goto Azuma, moderately famous novelist, given that the one who had to take a pen in the arm to grab the man (then under a Stand's control) was him and not Okuyasu. That kind of viciousness must keep people wary for a long time. Not to mention the apology gift they got was a place in Goto's ten-hour creative writing course organized by the uni, which was of no use to Josuke, but which Okuyasu snatched right up.

Outside of that event though, Goto-sensei was a mild-mannered, if a bit emotional and wordy person. He had anguish in his heart, sure, but he told Okuyasu once in class, in the tone of someone who was citing their name and age, that he wanted to love everything and anything more than he wanted to wallow in his sadness, so he channeled all of it into his writing and left his personal life free for his other emotions. Okuyasu found that a good way to do things as any.

“I'm gonna trust you on that,” Josuke said after a stretch of silence. Okuyasu grinned. “Anyway, something happened during the writing class then?”

“Yeah-- well, nah, but yeah.” Okuyasu rubbed his hands nervously under Josuke's confused look. “I mean, kinda? Goto-sensei gave us a prompt, and then I wrote something sad, and it bummed me out. 's all.”

Josuke's eyes grew wide. “Oh,” he said, “huh.”

“Yeah, it's dumb. Tolja don't mind it.”

“It's not dumb if it bums you out, dude.” Josuke leaned the broom against the desk and stepped closer to Okuyasu. His pomp looked almost plastic-ish under the buzzing light of the room. Okuyasu blinked when he held his biceps with both his hands. “I like you happy, Okuyasu. We gotta go there somehow, and I'm not a waiting man.”

Okuyasu looked at Josuke, eyes somehow brighter than the light should've made them, hands holding him firm as if willing him to believe. As if that had ever been necessary. He took a deep breath, and broke out in a grin.

“Thought so. You're a musical man.”

“Hell yeah I am.” The grin crept up onto Josuke's face, and he dragged Okuyasu in for a quick hug. “So, what's that piece you wrote today about?”

“I mean, you can read it.”

It must be impossible for Josuke's eyes to grow wider than this. This was maximum wide eye for him. “Really?”

“'s not fine art or some'n, but if you're cool with that, why the hell not. Wait here.”

Josuke waited in Keicho's half-cleaned room while Okuyasu went downstairs to fetch his notebook. Goto-sensei didn't care what his students did with what they wrote after class (“It's yours,” he had said, with passion, “and me telling you what to do with what's inherently yours is against everything I live for. Any experience you have with your own writing is deeply personal and unique, and if that includes setting your drafts on fire and inhaling the smoke, who am I to keep that from you?” He seemed to actually got misty-eyed at that idea.), but Okuyasu liked the man, and he thought keeping the things he wrote in his class in order was a way to show respect to a good teacher. Or it could at least make up for his terrible handwriting.

He flipped through the notebook as he went back upstairs. Man, he wrote more than he thought he did.

“Here,” he handed the notebook – opened to the correct page – to Josuke, who had finished sweeping the room and was bouncing on the balls of his feet in a subdued excitement. Josuke seemed extra careful with his hold on the thing.

“It's a poem?” Okuyasu didn't think that was actually meant to be a question, but he faltered a bit nonetheless.

“It's-- yeah. You aren't into that?”

“Dude, I barely read actual literature no matter what kind, that's not the thing. I'm just... poems are supposed to be even more about emotions than, like, novels and shit, right? I, uh...”

Josuke bit his lip. Okuyasu tried to follow the thread of logic.

“Goto-sensei said our writing is whatever we will it to be. If ya worry this won't be manly and cool, I'm gonna. I'm gonna will it into being for ya.”

“It's not that, dummy.” Josuke smacked him over the head with the notebook. He was smiling again though, so Okuyasu didn't mind. “I just don't think I can get the whole experience without you, like, walking me through it. Since you're the one with the emotions in this poem and all. So can you...”

Okuyasu grabbed the notebook. He looked at Josuke, and then at the words on the page between them, and then tentatively finished that hanging thought. “...recite it for ya?”

“Forget it if it bums you out again, okay?” Josuke held his hands up. “I'm cool either way. I wanna read it properly, sure, but if it's gonna ruin the night for you then forget it.”

Okuyasu stood there with his own notebook in his hand, with his boyfriend, in his brother's room that they were cleaning. He looked at Josuke, and then up at the buzzing light, and then at Keicho's CD collection on the shelf, newly dusted.

Finally he took a deep breath and said, “I'm not gonna hold onto it like that, dude.” And then he took Josuke's hand and said, “Let's come up to the roof for a bit.”

They left Keicho's room behind and went up to the attic, from where they climbed their way awkwardly up onto the Nijimuras' newly re-tiled roof. August was too early to feel chilly at night in Morioh, but there were winds, and the sky was wide open. Okuyasu thought it was a good place as any to give the poem a reading.

They settled on the warm tiles, and then Okuyasu had to stand up to go get a flashlight, and when he came back to the roof Josuke was still there – as if he would go away the moment Okuyasu blinked – the notebook balanced on his thigh.

“Ready,” Josuke said once Okuyasu had sit back down snug next to him, partly as a question and partly as a confirmation of his own status, and Okuyasu nodded.

“Alright.”

Okuyasu had never recited a poem before. His mom was a storyteller when she was alive, but there was a long stretch of time during which her conditions worsened slowly and the occasions lessened until both her and the stories were gone. His dad wasn't a wordy man, not outside of anger and grief. Keicho really would rather have silence than a human voice outside of his own, and again Okuyasu couldn't blame him for that. Or even question it, really, not when Keicho had his CDs and treasured them so. Outside of all that, Okuyasu had also never been good at school. He had other things to do, and the few literature classes he actually sat in for never saw him chosen by a teacher to read anything out loud from the textbook.

So, Okuyasu didn't really know what he was doing, no. But he was also a simple man, and right now it was doing it or not doing it. And Josuke had casted his vote – the only one that counted here and now.

“It's called 1999,” he said, and found his voice a bit raspy. He didn't figure out to clear his throat.

Cigarette butt on the ground

he chose one to pick up

and hold like a torch

Hand over head

Whispers like smoke

flow

1999

numbers he carried

one

in his left pocket

on the pad

along the line

into the waves

it's important, that's what he said

Cigarette butt in the air

His hand red

His eyes red

through them, the sky orange

twilight is for a while,

if statues are the same

1999

replays dissolve

into statics

into waves

away

one

on his lips

I didn't mean it like that,

or was it

I never told him,

or even

I don't think he knows,

that's what he said

Cigarette butt against the sky

futile

1999

variables

one

dissolved into the waves

my name is doubt,

and his I never got

1999

I met two ghosts in Morioh.

They were quiet a long time after that. When Josuke spoke up, he sounded like he just cried a bit. “Dude, that's so fucking sad.”

Okuyasu tried to keep himself from shining the flashlight on Josuke to see if he really had been crying. “For real? I don' even know what it's exactly about anymore. Jus' a buncha, uh, concepts put together randomly.”

“It got emotions into me, alright? So it's good to me, deal with it.”

“It makes you sad!”

“It's good sad though. Like listening to a late artist's album sad.” Josuke threw an arm around Okuyasu's shoulders. “That's how art is.”

“Sure,” Okuyasu harrumphed, but then smiled to himself, just a bit.

The two sat there on the roof well into the night. At one point they found their hands intertwined; Okuyasu let himself lean into the contact, flashlight and notebook laid aside, essentially forgotten. Late night breeze felt like sleep.

���The point of that poem is that I love you,” he said, and let it be.

The hand in his own tightened, and Josuke replied, with all the conviction his being could store, “I know, dude. Love you too.”

[hippychick006]

Paleyfest 2006: Supernatural Panel

So many memories and a lot of things I’d forgotten but definitely worth a revisit to remember falling in love with this show and these guys, particularly with Drabbernatural and all the negativity recently.

I mentioned on another post, but want it stated here for completeness, that Supernatural Paleyfest 2006 is the panel that made me sit up and take notice of J2 as an entity, rather than just Jared and Jensen. Their natural chemistry in this panel just jumped out and you can see they were already becoming a bubble in how they interacted with each other. This is the panel that reeled me in, dammit!

In summary, this panel gave us the following J2 gold moments;

Jensen strip teasing for Jared (we think)

Boys acting like brothers

Protective Jensen

J2 dodging questions and trying to pass it to the other

J2 not listening to the actual question and having to ask again

J2 teasing each other and playing off each other so naturally

Flirty boys and gutter minds

Jared v microphones – microphones: 1, Jared: 0

Use of Jared and I…

Mirroring body language

Jared trying to get a kiss in public (it will become a running theme and if Jensen’s podcast with Michael Rosenbaum is correct then he’s getting his 15 year reward for being patient) Please don’t @ me, I’m aware Jensen is joking!

Shy, embarrassed, adorkable clapping and laughing Jared

J2 finishing each others’ sentences

J2 in sync

Placing under a cut as longish post

Note: Part 1 was posted recently. There are 3 edits so far between that post and this one: 7:15 and 17:45, 27:55, they are all clearly marked, otherwise the text is the same as before. Part 2 has been added since the initial post.

Timings are based on the video link and start at the answer point rather than the question:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6YHq20XmNE

Part 1: Questions from the host

Supernatural was named in the Top 5 of new series by Entertainment Weekly

Aww. Kim Manners ☹ Miss his influence so much on the later seasons

2:20:  Jensen followed by Jared are announced to the panel. Jared arrives and doesn’t quite know where he’s supposed to go. Oh Jared.

Robert Singer looks so young! Working with J2 for so long has definitely aged him. 😊

3:35: Erik says as far as he’s aware, this panel is the first gathering of Supernatural fans

3:40: Erik tells the story of them filming in Stanley Park the night before the panel and they get a call about a man near their filming with a handgun, set gets shut down, J2 held away, police etc. called in and 2 hours later they find out it’s one of their own guys from Special Effects team.

They showed Scarecrow episode at the panel – great choice!

7:15: Jensen is reintroduced to the panel. The host can barely get through Jensen’s previous roles because of the fans. Jensen says something at 8.10 “Over to you, Jared.” I think, not 100% sure, but he definitely shouts something to Jared (who has still to be introduced).  [Edit, thanks to @wordsfallapart we think this might be “This is for you, Jared” which Jensen says as he’s taking off his jacket].

8:11: Jared is reintroduced to the panel. The host is still having the same trouble getting through Jared’s roles as he did with Jensens. A guy shouts, “I love you.” Same random audience member, same.

8:55: J2 slap hands as Jared sits down beside Jensen at the panel.

13:40: Erik’s been talking about the concept of the show and the care the brothers have for each other. Cut to Jared who is currently pouring Jensen some water.  Aww

15:00: They auditioned “everyone in town” so J2 did really, really well getting these roles.  They flew Jensen down from Vancouver and Jared’s complaining he had to drive. They thought they had found their Sam in Jensen.

15:45: Jensen and Jared trying to dodge the question by passing it to each other, Jared: What’s the exact question?

Immediately following this Jared’s talking about getting the role from his perspective and his little baby!Jared Texan accent is just…

17:05: Jared, talking about his mom being an English teacher who teaches mythology and legends:  “…the taught teachings of Joseph Campbell”  Jensen: “Didn’t rub off that she was an English teacher” Oh boys! Stop bullying Jared, he worked till 4.30am before flying down to the panel!

17:45: Jared’s still talking, Jensen starts snoring. I can’t… Jared shakes him to wake him up.[Edit: thanks to @annianvi Jared wakes him up by saying: Dean!”]

18:20: Jared and Kripke are trying to clarify something (who was in the room when Jared auditioned) but Singer is in the way and they keep going front and back trying to make eye contact

19:24: we get to what Jensen’s experience of the audition process was. Jensen: Pretty much the same. Jared (immediately): zzzzzzz (resting his head on Jensen’s shoulder).  Jensen goes on to talk about liaising with Nutter who wanted to bring him in and reading the script (for Sam). Jensen reading the script: “What about Dean? I like Dean.  He’s funny” He studied for Sam (and Dean a little bit just in case) and went into the audition, said he felt good about it and got a call later from Erik: “There’s this guy, Jared Pada, Pada Something… that they’re really liking for one of the brothers” So Jensen looks him up on line and he’s like…

Jared: He thought I was hot. Jensen: This guy’s smoking hot, I can’t play his brother! Jared throws his head back and does that clapping thing he does.  

21:10: host is asking by the time they performed together, they actually had the parts? Jensen: No, we didn’t have it officially. Jared (a bit surprised): Didn’t we? (looks at Erik). Erik says they were the only actors they brought into the Network audition (as you have to have the formality of the network signing off).

Jared says auditioning for the network is usually a terrifying process in front of around 5 people with a few others auditioning but when they turned up, it was only the two of them. Jensen: Just you and me pal. And it was the first time they’d met.

22:00: Jensen: “...And we’ve hated each other ever since.” He reaches for his water, Jared: “I poisoned your water so…” Jensen looks at water and drinks anyway

22:15: Kim Manners gets asked how he became involved. Kim: “I read for Sam…” Miss this man so much!

23:00: Erik says he doesn’t know what they would do without Kim up there [Vancouver] Kim: I know what you’d do, you’d get another guy! Panel: There is no other guy. Not true...  Jared: “There is no other guy… named Kim.”  Kim looks like he’s scheduling Jared in for a 4am pick up on his next episode.

23:40: Jared and Jensen talk about Kim and when he directed for the first time – Dead In the Water – they’d asked who he was and all David Nutter told them was they would love Kim, which they did and they contacted everyone from Day 1 saying he was incredible. Jared’s memory during this is pretty amazing in terms of episodes and directors etc.  All the love for Kim and completely deserved!

24:20: Jared gets so expressive he sends his mic flying. Is this the very first Jared v microphones?! I think it might just be. Jared: 0, Microphones: 1

Jensen offers his own mic, then Jared asks Singer for his also then finishes speaking by just holding his own mic, saying they begged and pleaded them to give Kim a job. Jared: because he was hungry… and he kept trying to bite my arm… and I was really worried.”

24:45: They were asked what is so incredible about Kim. Jensen: “Jared and I…” Wait, I need a moment here. Jared and I… sobs.  He says they just responded well to him and his style of directing.

25:15: Bugs is mentioned by Jensen, Kim puts imaginary gun to his mouth. He really hated that episode and pleaded with Kripke not to do it.   Jensen goes on to tell the bees story, 65,000 bees in a room, crew with full gear on. “Okay Jensen and Jared, hop on in…” Jared: “And don’t swat them because it makes them angry!”  Jensen credits Kim saying that if J2 didn’t have bee suits on then he wasn’t going to either.

I should point out that J2 are mirroring throughout this segment in terms of their body language.

26:45: John (Shiban) is talking about how he got involved and what drew him in, and he said 2 things: the premise, he can see 5 years of suffering for these guys. Jensen throws his head back dramatically. The second thing is casting and chemistry and chemistry is something you can’t manufacture and these guys have it… 27:20 Jared and Jensen look at each other hearing this and Jared leans in for a kiss.  Jensen shakes his head and points to the audience.  Jared: worth a try.  Oh boys. Jared will go on to try (and fail) to get a public kiss several times and will eventually give up and admit he doesn’t kiss Jensen... in public.

27:35: Bob [Singer] is asked what about you? Bob: Can I just watch them? (indicating Jensen and Jared). Same Bob tbh

27:55: Bob has to stop talking because J2 are doing something and we can’t see what they are doing but everyone is laughing. Bob throws his hands up and says, “This is what it’s like to direct them!” I think from memory, Jared might be pouring water for Jensen and he keeps pouring and overspills and Jensen stops him.  I might need to check my DVD as I think it’s got a different angle than this youtube video that I’m using or possibly this point comes later in the video. [Edit, it doesn’t come later, so I definitely think this is where Jared overspills Jensen’s water and not sure why it isn’t in this edit]  

Bob’s is a very interesting segment where he talks about how he and Kripke complement one another and I think this helps understand why Drabbernatural has gone off the rails as Singer (character focused) needs someone like Kripke (plot focused) to balance him out (and vice versa tbh) whereas Drabb is too much like Singer and can’t keep a handle on the plot. Anyway, interesting to watch from perspective of 14 years later and the mess that Drabbernatural is in terms of plot. This segment ends at 31:00 where Bob and Erik hug – after complimenting each other.

33:09: Kripke and John are talking about mythology v MOTW and at this point Erik is saying they have a mythology plan for season 2 and season 3 (if they are picked up). Jared looks confused at Jensen and they both turn to John. Jensen: When do we get to see this?

34:35: Erik Kripke (when asked if he knows where the story ends): He does, but you don’t know if you’re going to get cancelled or go 37 years like Gunsmoke.   Kim: The boys are in Walkers. Jensen (I think, old man voice): Sam!   Oh, how they would be shocked to learn they went for 15 seasons in total

 Part 2 – Questions from the audience

note timings here again generally refer to the start time of the answer, not the question.

36:45: One of the questions was whether there was any significance to John being in Sacramento twice, was it random or spoilery? John (Shiban) answers mysteriously: I don’t want to give it away yet and says nothing else. Jensen: So yes, there is. John: I’m not going to tell you either. Jensen (throws his hands up): I want to know! John promises after. The host then asks if there is any significance to Lawrence, Kansas.  Erik answers that basically yes there is (but not what it is), host asks J2 if they know what it is. J2 (lying in sync): uh, yeah, gosh, of course... 

37:45: When asked what folklore or urban legend scares you, Jensen says he’s been dealing with them all season, someone shouts out “bees!” Jensen says “bees.” Jared tells a story of watching Shadowman as a kid, then realises “it’s probably not scary” and stops talking, gets embarrassed and tries to hide in his jacket. Audience (and me) awwws

39:15: Audience member has asked about the disconnect between Sam being at college for 4 years but only not having seen Dean for 2 years and is there an answer to what happened 2 years ago. J2 aren’t sure, Jensen: Erik? Long story short, “hehe, it was a mistake!”

40:50: Question about whether they have to trade off with the network for scenes that are too scary.  Bob: you get into strange discussions; the network might say “can we not see the decapitated head roll…” Bob: Can we do half a turn?

41:30: still talking about trade off, Jensen: There was also the uh, when… Jared: the gun rig. Jensen: yeah, the gun rig with me… Jared knowing exactly what Jensen was trying to say and finishing his sentence – and this was end of season 1!  I’m going to need another moment!  They go on to talking about Dean getting shot in the head in Nightmare and it was the only scene Standards and Practices wouldn’t allow. They wouldn’t show the entire shot, so we only see the splat on the wall when Dean’s shot and not the entire thing moment to end.  Singer says when he saw the dailies of the full shot, he called Phil (Scriggia) who was directing to ask what the hell he was doing and Phil answered “well if they see that, they’ll give me the rest of the stuff…”  Kim explained it was a game they play with standards and practice where they deliberately shoot extra frames violent, expecting them to come in and say they need to take stuff out and you act all disappointed – 4 frames, really?  But you always knew you didn’t need those frames and you get to keep the stuff you do want.

44:20: Question about whether anything on set – e.g. the scarecrow has creeped them out.  Jared talks about filming Skin when a clock randomly fell off the wall during filming, and they all decided to pretend it didn’t happen, rather than investigate “the way real brave people do it”.   Jensen immediately follows up with Asylum and that it was filmed in a real mental asylum.  The crew had said not to go up to the fourth floor. Jensen… obviously went up to the fourth floor “taking a shortcut”.  He came to a long, dark hallway that had no lights. Jensen (to himself): Well… it’s not that long… I can make it.”

46:20: Question about moving to a new network (WB to CW) and if they were going to get more NC17 stuff like Jensen’s recent episode.  Jensen and Jared look at each other. Jensen: I’m confused.  Audience members shout out: Teh sex episode! J2: oh, oh right. Jensen: How could I forget that. (looks at Erik): Thank you for that. Erik: Sure, Happy birthday Jensen

46:40: still on this, Erik: The CW is huge on full frontal male nudity. Jared laughs, claps and reaches for some water, then proceeds to choke on it. Jensen immediately slaps his back, making a gesture for a medic. This panel really does have it all!

48:40: Question about whether the show will explore the boys’ past. Erik says they’ve got an episode coming up where they do just that. Jared: Another positive is that if little Sam and little Dean are filming, big Sam and big Dean are sleeping.  Everyone: So keep pushing. Jensen: Flashbacks.  I’m so glad the boys finally got some more time off in later seasons!

49:15: Question about whether Dean’s necklace means anything. Jensen looks at Erik/Singer: Are you going to hang me out to dry on this one? Singer: Oh yeah. Jared laughs. They basically say it does, but they can’t talk about it.  John Shiban: It’s from Sacramento (referring to earlier question where he was being mysterious).  Jensen loses it.

50:15: Question about if working with green screen has got easier to do and also when the DVD comes out, is it going to have a lot of behind the scenes jokes because “this is funny”.  Uh, yeah it is lady and yes they will. Jensen answers that they’ve just had a film crew on set the last week doing behind the scenes stuff and that will be on the DVD. He then goes on to answer the green screen “we do do..” then stops, looks at Jared, “I said do do!” There follows a brief intermission for juvenile humour. Jensen (tries to regroup): We do… work a lot with… Kim (I think): doo doo.  Jensen and Jared are laughing. Jensen: Jared, you can take this one.  Jared: As Kim and Jensen were saying we do do… They do eventually get around to answering and also talk about not just green screen but when they’ve got to pretend on a normal set and special effects will add things in later.

53:45: Question about whether Jensen has trouble to do this type of show being a Christian and whether fans had called the number Dean gave out on screen. Fan gets very excited during her question.  Jared: If you want to actually call him its 800-Wet legs. I can’t... Jensen leans over to whisper in Jared’s ear. Jared: oh, you changed it?  They’re lost and have forgotten the question.  Jensen answers the Christian question very honestly, saying his family is very religious and does his grandmother cringe sometimes, yes, but he’s happy.  Kripke answers the phone question saying it was real and he listened to around 20-30 of the thousands received.  “Sam, Dean, you need to come quick, there’s a ghost in my attic!”

55:45: Question about what car they drive. Jensen (proudly): it’s a 67 chevy impala.  Audience shouts metallicar. And Jared repeats it to Jensen, so I think this is the first use of metallicar.  Someone on the panel says, “they’re going to sell well.” Jensen says they have about 5 of them. Jared: That’s why you can’t get them on e-bay. Jensen: We have them all.

When they ask for the next question, lots of people put their hand up and the boys are surprised at the number still wanting to ask questions.

56:15: Fan says, let’s talk about the music. Audience cheer, Jensen says “Yes”, Jared claps in agreement.  Fan asks for the inspiration for using 70s mullet rock. Kripke answers that he is a huge fan of that music and he was adamant it had that and not the usual music on the network that he wrote into the pilot script: Cue Music. And you can take your anemic alternative pop and shove it up your ass!   He goes on to say he wrote the scene where Sam’s going through the tapes in the pilot specifically so the network would have no choice but to use that music because it was already shot and part of the pilot.

58:50: Question from aspiring actor wondering how hard it was for J2 to get started. Jensen (to Jared): Go ahead.

Jared talks about winning Teen choice awards and giving trophies to winners like Freddie Prince Jr for “best hottie of the world”. Jensen: it’s been pretty much downhill from there.”  Jared talks about picking up his agent (Dan) and then going back to finish school, because his parents (and he says daddy which I love about him) said “He’s finishing high school!” He then went out for pilot season, picked up a pilot and used the money from that to go back out during the summer (after school ended and before college).  He’s very humble and hasn’t changed in that respect saying he has buddies that are much more talented and more committed than him that are still struggling to make it, it’s a tough industry but keep working hard.  

Jensen talks about being in theatre in Dallas, talent agent from LA was in the audience, he came up to Jensen afterwards and gave his pitch, Jensen told him to “bugger off” and the agent went to his parents who listened more than he did.  It still took him a few years to take up the offer (so he must have been a lot younger) and decided to go to LA and give it a couple of months. He started working straight away.

1:01:12: Question about what alcohol they like to drink (?!) Jared: What alcohol do you got?  Questioner clarifies: Are you hard guys, light guys. Jared laughs and claps: My mom would kill me.  Jared does go on to say the beer bottles in the show always have fake labels… [Something makes a noise in the ceiling, Jared gets distracted and looks up: God? then continues answering] …the labels usually have something do with the town/state they are supposed to be in, so if Texas, it will be Lonestar Lager.  Boys are mirroring again at this point.

Jared (looks at Jensen): You know we’re Texas boys. I think… Jensen: You know, we’d probably drink what you imagine a couple of Texas boys would drink Jared: Put in a cup Jensen (does that smirk thing he does): That’s right Jared gets embarrassed so no idea what any of this means but I’m putting it under flirty boys

1:02:38: Host asks their favourite scene they’ve written, directed or acted in since the show started and why

Kim: Shadow, where the boys first saw their father. He talks about the scenes and particularly the one where Dean asks Sam why does he think Dean came to get him from Stanford, because Dean wants them to be a family again. 1:03:00 Jensen pretends to wipe his eyes and audience awws. This prompts Kim to say that Jensen had a tough time with that and he and Kim had to arm wrestle over it - and Kim isn’t missed more than listening to him here, talking about Dean letting down his barriers for a fraction of a second. He got Dean and Sam and he got this show and the first few seasons are so good because they had his hands all over it. Kim says their [J2s] game of tennis improves 2000% when up against JDM and Nikki and I would agree, the casting decisions in the early seasons were phenomenal, later seasons, not so much though we still have amazing finds in Rowena and the witch twins. J2 nod pretty much throughout Kim’s answer.

1:03:55: Jared comments after Kim’s answer and says not just to say this but having a great director to tell you exactly what to do doesn’t make it hard. Jensen and I would tell you a thousand times every day that, you know, Kim got it out of us.

1:04:10: Host asks Jensen if he didn’t want to do that scene because you thought Dean wouldn’t say that? Jensen gives a really thoughtful answer. He talks about him being a little protective of Dean and him showing emotions. And he wasn’t sure how much of the layers to peel away in that scene so was putting up his own barriers and if there was anyone to get him through it, it was Kim and he’s glad he was there.

1:05:00: back to the original question about favourite scene and this time it’s John who answers with Skin. Again, he has some interesting things to say and in particular, they talk about how they want to do this monster (skinwalker), but how will Supernatural do it, how do we make it special for our show.  He talks about the scene of Dean in the sewer. He says his friends sent him some online posts of a fan’s reaction to that scene. “Oh my god, Dean’s taking his shirt off!” followed immediately by “Oh my god, he’s taking his skin off!!”  Jensen laughs, not sure he’s heard that before.

1:06:10: Jensen talks about filming the scene in Dead in the Water where he saves the little boy and the slow motion etc. was all really neat but the build up to that, shooting it was really (shakes head). He talks about trying to keep both him and the boy afloat with one arm while 2 divers were under water holding onto his feet ready to pull him down. He said that was overwhelming. Reading between the lines and from memory of other interviews I think he was concerned that the boy’s life was in his hands.

1:07:30: Jared talks about Wendigo and he had so many questions because of the time difference between filming the pilot and filming Wendigo about where they pick up and where they’re going and how they continue the momentum. He talks about being on the stage with Jensen and it’s the dad’s journal scene.  Dean’s got dad’s journal saying what it’s all about and Sam wants to find dad and that they had 9 pages of dialogue to do so they went to practice and Jared had an acting coach who pushed and prodded Jared a little bit “and I don’t know what he did to Jensen but uh…” [Jensen’s face! Rumour iirc is he did not like the acting coach and I know he didn’t last long on set].

Jensen: I don’t want to talk about it Jared: It was noisy Jensen: Never again Jared: That’s between y’all and the wall

They got the scene and it was the first time Jared thought he was doing what Kripke wanted.

Kripke adds he remembers seeing the dailies on that scene and they were just through the roof. It was incredible Such a supportive cast and crew with each other!

1:09:15: Bob, the scene at the end of Faith. The scene between Jensen and Julie Benz where Dean says, “I’m not much for praying, but I’ll pray for you.” And Julie’s character responds, “Well that’s a miracle right there.” Bob thought it was incredibly well acted by both.

1:10:20: Kripke, agrees with all of them, but will add the scene when Dean first calls his father in Home and tells him to come to Lawrence and the way Jensen was able to try to put up walls and the walls kept coming down but… remember this is Kripke… “when the dude stuck his hand in the disposal… [everyone laughs]  Kripke getting more excited: “and then the monkey starts clapping and we had that shot beneath the sink and you could actually see all the goo come out. They saw the shot in dailies and thought they would never let them use it. It’s probably the scene in the show where people watch behind their hands and that’s part of the fun of getting the reaction out of the audience.  Again, completely agree with Kripke here, the show first and foremost was about horror and it’s sadly forgotten that somewhere along the way. So Kripke’s answer at this point in time for favourite scene is “garbage disposal scene in home”

The panel ends with Kripke asking for a round of applause for the crew who are in the audience for an unbelievable season.  The host thanks the panel for being there and for the good work they are doing.

So a great panel, and answers some of the questions, for me at least, why the show hasn’t managed to retain some of the core magic that made the earlier seasons so special. 

Kripke as the creator was very clear in his vision - sometimes manic in the delivery of it - but he had people like Singer and Gamble to balance him out and bring him back down. 

The show knew why they were successful and focused on that (chemistry between J2) and they first and foremost were focussed on telling a scary story every week while weaving in the mytharc without being too heavy on mytharc, and I believe Kim helped enormously in keeping them grounded in the horror aspect with his previous work on x-files so again, he is severely missed in later episodes.  

All things which have either been lost or severely watered down the futher removed from Kripke at the helm the show has gotten.  

All jmho.  

Next up in terms of classic panels will be Chicon 2007 - which I think was the first fan convention iirc - and I’ll cover the J2 panels and the individual panels from that, but not any other actor.