#I really need someone to rant about my AUs to so uh if any mutuals want to hear my rambling and shitty ideas then just let me know /nf

[vexedmilky]

My danganronpa V3 AUs have three moods:

Sweet and wholesome fluff

Just random shit idk

Psychological torture

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x Mindhunter AU

Spencer Reid x Peggy Carr (OC) Part 2: The Case

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn! flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr and Jason Gideon's biological daughter. mentions of rape and murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 2.2K

ao3

P1

He’s not expecting her to roll out a full map after the waitress clears the food from their table. They’ve been in the booth for barely 20 minutes. Having mindless conversations about their day and small get to know each other questions while they ate.

“So, I brought all this to my dad,” she explained, dropping 33 files on the table as well as 2 spiral notebooks and a handful of pens. “He thinks I have a case, but he’s refusing to look at the evidence because he’s still triggered by it, which I get, but he said you’d be the best at helping me because I really just need a geo-profile consult.”

“How is he doing?”

She’s been waiting for him to ask but she still didn’t know how to answer, no matter how much time she had to prep, “uh, he’s good. He talks about you every time I see him, how often do you talk?”

“We haven’t talked since he almost died, 6 years ago now… yes, it was in 2015,” Spencer says it like it’s nothing serious.

“Oh,” she’s confused about it all. Her father talks about him more than anyone else, always remembering a case or a conversation that he just had to tell her about.

Spencer was his buddy in her eyes. “Here I was thinking he liked you more than me like you’re his favourite kid.”

“I’m not his kid,” his eyes widen at the insinuation that they’re somehow siblings in any sense.

It makes her laugh, she knows he’s interested in her a small amount. She was hoping he would, she’s heard so many wonderful things about him and she remembers just how cute he was back in 2005. Now he’s a man and a mighty fine one at that…

“I take it you’re an only child?” He changes the subject, “you can’t handle the idea of your father having relationships with people your age when you hardly know him?”

“How about you tell me who you think I am and I’ll tell you where you went wrong?” She challenges him rather than answering, she knows he’s good but she wants to see it in action.

Spencer raised his brow, “if I get it right, you’re paying for lunch.”

“Deal.”

He opens her notebook and takes a look at her notes, flipping through the pages reading the words just as fast as her father said he could. It was incomprehensible, but he didn’t read far… he keeps going back to her drawings, studying the pressure and how her mind worked.

“Your mom travelled a lot when you were a kid, and you always went with her. I’m thinking you have a few degrees, at least 3…” he pauses to watch her microexpressions, trailing her skin with his eyes as he looks for anything out of the ordinary. “There’s a doctorate in there but you hate being called Dr. Carr because that’s your mother’s name and it reminds you too much of people asking about her instead of how you’re doing.”

It cuts deep, but he hits the nail on the head and she just blinks. The simplest microexpression that shows him he got it right, his smile is awkward and he’s sorry for it.

“You were homeschooled so you don’t trust people very easily. You have issues with your father that you can’t place because you still don’t think you know him well enough to really have an opinion, and you’re jealous of me because you wish you knew how he brags about you when you’re not around, but he doesn’t talk about you because you told him not to.”

“I specifically told him I wanted to be left out of his life to stay safe, so it’s really my fault that he can’t brag about me. But I still wish someone would,” she admits with a soft smile. “And I think it’s not really jealousy. I’m not jealous of how he brags about his time with you. If anything, I really admire you now.”

He blushes a little, “alright, your turn.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend before have you?” She calls him out right away. “You can’t take a compliment seriously because no one has loved you deep enough yet for you to believe them. I already know about your parents, I know that you’re scared of forgetting and that’s why you won't stop learning. I think you probably have a bucket list, you’re desperate for something exciting to happen and that’s why you like me already.”

He blinks right back, “touché.”

“I’ll still buy your lunch,” she smiled, and he smiled right back. “And I do have 3 degrees.”

“I do too.”

“I know,” she reminded him. “You’ve been working on that 4th one for the last 16 years.”

“I haven’t had the time.”

She shakes her head as she laughs, teasing him as if she’s better than him because she knows he finds her interesting already, “I had my Ph.D. by 17, as well 2 masters by the time I was 21.”

“3 Ph.D.’s by 22,” he bragged right back.

It had suddenly become a staring contest, “when exactly did your dad walk out on you?”

“I was 10.” Spencer answers. “When was the last time your mom said she was proud of you?”

“Oh, we're going that far, I see,” she laughed, hurt just a little that he dug that deep, “what happened to yours recently?”

“Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m really sorry, I knew about the schizophrenia already because of the fisher king case, that one is the one that still has my dad all fucked up,” she can’t help but rant as she apologizes, placing her hands on his in the centre of the table and he interlocks their fingers like they’ve known each other for years.

“Boston?” He asks her, changing the topic back to getting to know each other without letting go of her hands.

She nods, “Vegas?”

“You knew that already,” he catches her.

“Maybe so,” she blushes at the embarrassment of him picking up on her crush.

“How’d he describe me at chess?” There’s a cockiness behind it that she admires, smiling in response she just shakes her head.

“I don’t play chess, but he says that other than Agent Prentiss, you’re the only person who has come close to beating him.”

“Prentiss?” He looks almost offended at the fact he didn’t know that story.

“You were asleep on the jet, it was right after the trip to Azkaban,” she reminds him.

“Azkaban?” He repeats. “You mean Guantanamo?”

She’s only slightly embarrassed by the slip-up, blushing a deep red as she presses her lips together and squeezes his hand. “My mom calls it Azkaban, she hates it. If it wasn’t for the BAU, she would have never joined the bureau or the government in any way, she’s against the criminal justice system too, so…”

“She’s a woman of science and empathy, I’ve never met her, but I’ve read all her work.”

“So have I,” she’s full of butterflies for some reason as she thinks about him knowing everything that she does, she’s suddenly excited at the prospect of future conversations with him like this isn’t a one-time thing.

He’s still holding her hands over the map, both of them leaning in slightly as they kept talking, it felt overly intimate for a discussion of a case— and they haven’t even started yet.

She takes her hands out of his grip and flattens them over the map, “so I found a pattern, I was asked to look into the rape and murder of a friends sister, and now I’ve found 32 matching cases all over America going in alphabetical order by state, 2 a year since 2005.”

“Are you serious?”

She nods softly, “I’m a private investigator. I hated the academy and simply being in the BAU almost killed both of my parents so I’m not really fond of it, but I need help.”

“How did VICAP not pick this up?” Spencer’s still caught up on the fact this has been happening during his entire career and he had no way of helping. It was very clear by the look on his face.

“Because they’re college-age women getting raped in their dorms, 1 in each state, and men don’t care enough to dig a little deeper when it’s just a little girl who was probably asking for it anyway, right?”

He looks furious, but with her… not at her.

Not like most men, that’s actually exactly what any other guy would have said to her. ‘Not most men,’ they only said that if they were offended; when they knew that they were the exact type of man she was referring to.

He started opening case files then, flipping through everything as she watched carefully, “he always does it the exact same way. It’s every March and November between the 6th and 12th, he’s gotten to the O’s, which means the next hit should be in Oklahoma in exactly 2 months' time.”

“Has there been evidence?” Spencer asks, avoiding eye contact as he both listens and absorbs.

“1 footprint and some random fingerprints at the first few, other than that it’s like he was never there,” she sighs. “This is where I need your help; I’m unsure if he’s attacking randomly or if it’s planned ahead of time, so I brought the map to see if you can make any connection.”

“Alright,” he closes the folder and hands them to her so he can get a better look at everything. “I’m going to need the exact address of each one.”

“I have 32 mini maps,” she says, opening her book bag and handing him yet another folder.

“I’ve noticed they’re in every capital, and it’s always on the east side of the city,” she adds as he spreads them out on the table.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns on the flash, turning it face down and holding the sheets of paper over it, “If you look at them over each other, there might be a pattern. We should call my friend Penelope, she’ll be able to digitally do this and find something.”

“Okay,” Peggy nods along, “I really need to know within the week because I’m moving to Oklahoma.”

“What?” He looks overly worried.

“He’s interested in college-age brunettes,” she points at herself. “I’m going to rent an apartment with a sliding door in the kill zone, and I’m going to wait it out. I’ll make sure everyone knows I live alone, I won't make friends, I’ll keep the windows open when I go to the store, I’ll make myself a victim.”

“No, we can get the bureau to send in a team, you don’t need to be in harm's way,” he protests, “I won’t help if I know you’re throwing yourself in the middle of all this. I refuse.”

There’s an underlying panic that she doesn’t quite understand. He’s almost shaking as he thinks about her playing the victim, they stare back and forth at each other softly, eyes flickering over the other’s expression as he also reads her.

“Fine,” she agrees, finally. “But if you’re getting the team involved, I want to be able to have some say in the investigation. I don’t want to be kicked out for just being a PI.”

“On one condition,” Spencer smirks. “You have to teach the BTK seminar with me.”

“Deal,” she smiled. “But I have some conditions too.”

“Anything?”

He was going to regret that.

“We can’t sleep together until we catch the guy— don’t look at me like that!” she catches the way his jaw drops and his eyes glisten.

He’s in complete shock, trying to say words and failing miserably as she stares at him knowingly. “I only said that because I need rules for myself too. We can’t care more about each other than the victims. Solve the case with me and then I’ll have a crush on you, okay?”

“Okay,” he finally finds the words to agree. “Was it that obvious?”

“We held hands for 5 minutes, I’ve thought you were cute since you were 23 and that seminar was a; 'my horse is bigger than your horse' flirting match,” she calls it all out, “I’m just as into you as you are into me already, if not more so because I know way too much about you thanks to my dad and uncle Rossi.”

“Dave knew about you too?” He’s more upset than she expected.

She nods, “yeah, so that I’d be taken care of if anything happened to my dad.”

He is a little upset and she can’t figure out why from what she knows already, “why?”

“You’re so interesting, you and I could have been friends for the last 15 years and things could have been so interesting but you were a secret,” he whispers.

“I was right wasn’t I?”

He nods again, “Gideon doesn’t know about Maeve, but I had a girlfriend who died in front of me before I could tell her I loved her and it broke me.”

Everything makes sense now. The stares, the stuttering, the defensiveness at the idea of her being in harm's way after only knowing her for a few hours. He was desperately looking for someone like himself to prove that he wasn’t going to be alone forever, and he wanted that to be found in her.

“Solve the case with me, then you can learn what it’s like to love someone who loves you back.”

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[hoebii]

Birthday Bash

Pairing : Squirrel hybrid!Kim Seokjin x Fox hybrid!Kim Taehyung (MXM)

Genre : Fluff, hybrid!au, established relationship

Rating : PG13

Warnings : Swearing

Wc : 1.6k

A/N : Okay before all, thank you @taegularities​ and @kassrole​ for being my beta, you guys are the best <3 Second- HAPPY BIRTHDAY @aroseforyoongi​ HOPE YOU HAVE A BLAST AND THIS YEAR TREATS YOU LIKE THE QUEEN YOU ARE <333 I hope you like my present for you~ Thank you for being so nice and welcoming all the time, you’re the best <3 OH I COMPLETELY FORGOT - I got the ‘We were supposed to bring the cake for our mutual friend’s birthday party but we got in a fight over who should carry it to the car and now the cake is on the floor and HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!’ prompt from @creativepromtsforwriting !!

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

Taehyung was in the middle of a meeting when his phone buzzed. His ears twitched at the low buzzing- he had initially decided to ignore it till after the meeting was over. But with how much it was vibrating, he sighed in mild annoyance before taking his phone out as discreetly as he could to not alert anyone else. 

His annoyance got replaced with curiosity when he saw it was a new group chat named ‘SURPRISE BITCHES’. Clicking open the chat box, Taehyung almost snorted at what was on his screen, alerting the others but he paid no mind to the questioning gazes.

           ~Jinnie created group~

          ~Jinnie named the group ‘SURPRISE BITCHES’~

 Jinnie : THIS IS A GROUP CHAT FOR ALL YOU BRATS TO PLAN A SURPRISE PARTY FOR MY BIRTHDAY

 Jinnie : Make sure it’s AMAJIN *laughing sticker*

       ~Jinnie has left the chat~

  Kook : ...what just happened 

  Park Brat : We have to plan a party for hyung now, I guess?

  Kook : Yeah, no shit shorty but wth was that o.O

The rest of the chat had transformed into the two arguing with each other. Taehyung put his phone down and leaned back into his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. He was surrounded by children. Absolute children.

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

After the meeting had ended, Taehyung was walking back to his office when his phone rang, playing a sound akin to... Spongebob’s laugh? Taehyung’s ears stood straight on alert as he checked his screen, eyebrows raised in surprise at the odd tone - someone had changed his ringtone again. 

Seeing it was a call from none other than the soon-to-be 29 years old, Kim Seokjin, he picked up the phone with a sigh, “What’s up, hyung?”

“Did you see the group?”

“Hello to you, too, I haven’t had lunch yet, have you? My day has been pretty busy, thanks for asking,” Taehyung started, completely ignoring what the older man had asked, snickering when he started scolding Taehyung on the other side.

“Stop being a brat! Did you see the group I made?” Jin whined. Taehyung could almost imagine Jin’s furrowed brows as he paced around wherever he was. 

“Yes hyung, I saw the group you made,” Taehyung finally answered, smiling softly when he heard a happy gasp come from the excitable squirrel hybrid. 

“So?”

“So what?” he asked, trying to keep a neutral face while passing by employees when he heard a grunt on the other line.

“So, what did you plan? What are you getting me?”

“I thought it was supposed to be a surprise?”

“Yeah but I want to know!”

“Oh well, if you really want to know,” Taehyung started, humming as if in deep thought, “we haven’t planned a single thing.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“When have I ever joked around? I am the most serious person you can ever meet,” he announced dramatically, stepping into his office and closing the door behind.

“You’re no fun, I’m calling Namjoon.” Jin huffed before hanging up, giving the other man no time to reply.

Taehyung laughed to himself, deciding to call the group to check on the plan, given they had made any rather than arguing like before. Taehyung would have their head if they didn’t make this the best birthday for Jin.

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

It was the day of the party. Everyone had arrived at the venue, Taehyung noted as he scanned the place - except two people. The two who were in charge of the cake.

He was about to call one of them when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Taking out the device, he instantly picked up the call when he saw the caller ID being displayed as ‘Kook’.

“Where are you two?! Hoseok and Yoongi hyung are gonna bring Jin here any minute! Even Namjoon hyung has arrived!”

“Okay, don’t get mad…” Jungkook started after Taehyung finished his rant, “we sort of have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“Well, you see. Uh. Well. Listen, don’t be mad,” the bunny hybrid stuttered, causing Taehyung’s concern to rise tenfold. 

“Oh give me that,” he heard Jimin say on the line before his voice chimed in, “yeah, hi. I know we were supposed to bring the cake for Jin, but we kinda got in a fight over who should carry it from the car and now the cake is on the floor and HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!”  

Hearing no reply for a moment, Jimin asked, “Tae? You there?”

“You… dropped the cake?”

“Accidentally, yes,” the cat hybrid answered, getting nervous the longer he got no answer. He had thought Taehyung would blow a fuse, but there was no screaming… yet.

“Fix. This.”

“What?”

“Fix the mess you made. Don’t show your face unless you do.”

Jimin raised his brow at his words, “Do you want us to go get another cake? Cause this was a custom one and I don’t think it’s possible to get that so fast.”

“I don’t care, fix it or don’t show up.”

“You serious?”

Taehyung hung up without answering.

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

The party was coming to an end. Jimin and Jungkook had somehow managed to get another cake - albeit not the one Taehyung had wanted, but it was good enough - and he had made up with the two, apologising for his behaviour earlier. 

“It’s fine, dude. I’d be worse if I was in your place,” Jungkook had said, patting him on the head while saying so.

“Exactly what Kook said, don’t worry too much, man. Enjoy the party, and do not get cold feet,” Jimin had chimed in after the maknae. Taehyung was grateful to have such amazing friends.

He had been standing at the balcony, sipping on champagne when Jin found him.

“What’s up, babe?” he asked, words laced with concern. 

Taehyung sighed, looking down at the drink, “Don’t worry about it. Did you enjoy the party?”

“Don’t change the subject, Tae.”

When Jin got no reply, he sighed, grabbing Taehyung’s face and forcing him to meet his eyes, “The party was amazing. I didn’t expect you people to actually do something when I made the group as a joke. Thank you.”

Staring into Jin’s eyes, Taehyung gulped, nervousness consuming him. He had to do it now or he would cower away again, he decided. 

Stepping away, he placed the glass down on the ledge, “I haven’t given you your gift yet.”

“Gift? This party was enough, honey. You didn’t need to- what are you doing?” Jin started, getting interrupted mid-way when the younger man got down on one knee in front of him.

“I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore,” Taehyung started, pulling out a velvet box. 

“Is your gift for me to break up? You didn’t have to get down on your knees for that, you know?” Jin asked, trying to act calm, but Taehyung knew him better.

Snorting at his words, Taehyung squinted his eyes at Jin in warning, “Shut up and let me finish before I back down again.”

“Sorry.”

“When I met you, I never thought we would be together, much less me wanting to spend the rest of my life with you,” Taehyung began his speech, smiling when he saw Jin playfully glare at him, “but you came into my life and made it so much better. I would be a mess without you. I’ve had this ring for months now, never finding the right moment to do it, but now feels as good as any. You always told me to not wait for the right moment and make the moment right, so here I am. Kim Seokjin, will you make me the happiest man alive and-” He was about to finally ask when a clearly drunk Namjoon stumbled onto the balcony.

“There you guys are! Everyone is looking for you two!” he exclaimed, grinning happily at finding his friends, the two barely able to understand what he said.

The smile slipped off of his face when he got no reply, and scanning the scene in front of him, he quickly connected the dots before he was back to smiling happily, his tail wagging furiously and exclaimed, “Oooh Taehyung-ah! Did you propose yet?”

Taehyung stared at him, lips parted in shock, not knowing how to react. His heart sank as the drunk man blubbered on about god knows what. What did he do to deserve this? He wasn’t sure whether he was angry or disappointed at the situation, but what he did know without a doubt, was that he'd teach Namjoon a lesson after this.

Seeing Taehyung deflating each second, Jin pushed Namjoon out of the balcony with a ‘Fuck off, you dumb dog’ - to which he got a very drunk reply of ‘I’m a wolf!’ - before returning to him. Crouching down to be face-to-face with him, Jin smiled reassuringly, taking Taehyung’s hands in his, “Ignore him, baby. Finish what you were saying.” 

“The moment’s ruined.”

“I will smack you if you say that again. The moment is not ruined and if you don’t finish what you were saying right now, I will hunt Namjoon down and push you both off of this balcony.”

“Will you say yes if I do?” Taehyung asked, looking like a kicked puppy as he did so.

“You’re gonna have to say it to find out, won’t you?”

Taking a deep breath, he resumed, “Kim Seokjin, will you marry me?”

“No.”

“W-what?” Taehyung sputtered, looking at Jin with wide eyes, heart shattering the longer he got no reply.

Jin laughed, “I’m kidding. Of course I’ll marry you.”

“Yah! You’re so mean, why would you ever do that?!” Taehyung whined, “You can’t just joke around li-”

Jin grabbed Taehyung’s face, cutting him off by pulling him into a sweet kiss. He smiled when he felt the other one kiss back instantly, one hand sliding down to intertwine it with the others’.

Pulling away from the kiss, the two smiled at each other, Taehyung slipping the ring on Jin’s finger.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

[sockpansy]

Just kiss already

Hey there @organizeddiscord ! I got you for the fic writing event hosted (started) by @the-prince-and-the-emo and so, without further ado....

Ships: logince and moxiety, both romantic.

Word count: 1796

Prompt: student au: main ship are trying to set up their mutual friends, while falling in love in the process.

Summary: patton is the pastel boy who everyone is friends with, except Virgil, the moody emo who avoids everyone. Logan and Roman notice this, and want to help Patton, who really wants to be friends with Virgil. Along the way of setting up new friends, logan and Roman realize that Patton and Virgil would be a cute couple. Now they just need to make it happen.

______

Patton was the pastel popular kid that eveeyone liked. He was kind and helpful, clumsy but always willing to listen. Everyone loved him.

Except Virgil.

Honestly, Virgil found patton funny with his puns, and he seemed sweet, but he perfered to be alone, and patton was always surrounded by people, lots of people.

So Virgil tried to keep his distance.

Patton refused to take the hint.

Prancing over to the emo edge lord, Patton gave a cheerful greeting.

"Good morning Virgil! I like the eyeshadow." Said person looked up through his bangs.

"...uh yeah, sure, thanks." He tried to walk past. Virgil may not want to be friends with him, but he just can't be mean to Patton, it is physically impossible.

Patton walked beside Virgil."that math test was really hard. But you turned yours in so quick! You must be really smart."

"Nah, i just gave up and accepted defeat, plus then i get to nap quicker"

From down the hall, two friends watch in thought.

Logan, student concil president, and Roman, theatre star, stood side by side.

"Ya know Logan, patton really wants to befriend Virgil..." Roman sighed dramatically.

Logsn gave a curt nod."yes he does..yet Virgil does not want too...and you cant force someone to be friends"

Roman blinked and looked at logan silently, a grin overtaking his face. Logan soon turned to face him. Eyebrow raised, before the gears clicked.

"Roman we are not-"

"Just let me explain! Look, virgil doesn't have any friends, and patton wants to be friends, if we get them to be away from lots of other people and make them hang out, maybe virgil will come around and agree to be friends with Patton."

"Roman we can't just-"

"Ill by you a week supply of crofters."

"Im in."

______

With some quick planning, and a few practiced lines, the next day Logan and Roman went to put their plan into action.

Patton always greeted Virgil in the mornings, so when patton started to talk to Virgil, Logan and roman walked over.

"Patton, Virgil."Logan greeted.

Roman was grinning as he announced."Patton listen! I just found the coolest roller rink and they are having a special!"

Logan looked at Roman a bit, a practiced."ah yes, you told me it had a group special? A group of four gets a free pizza and a handful of arcade tokens each for free with a purchase?"

Roman nods excited."yeah, but the skates are super cute, of course ill bring my rainbow ones! But how about it Patton, wanna go?" Roman asked. Logan was keeping an eye on Virgil, who hadnt moved but was looking for a way out of the tiny crowd.

Patton beamed excitement."oh that sounds great! But who could be the fourth person?"

Logan piped up, facing virgil he said."Virgil? Would you like to join us on a skating trip this Friday afternoon?"

Virgil, caught off gaurd by suddenly being asked to go somewhere, just stared at them all. "Uhh..."

Patton had jumped at the idea." Oh please Virgil! It will be so much fun, plus it will be a group thing so you wont have to pay!".

Virgil bit his lips a bit."I..i guess?"

____

The roller rink was a place that was dimly lit, but you could still see everything. It had an arcade and booth for eating along with, of course, a rink.

Roman paid for the group while logan got them roller skates.

Virgil said."uh I..brought my own so...yeah."

Logan nodded as he and patton went to get skates.

Roman sat beside Virgil as they changed shoes. "So emo nightmare...you have skated before?"

Virgil glanced st him as he slid on purple and black roller blades. "Yep, I like blading better."

Patton and logan came back over. Patton was grinning. "This place looks so cool!"

Logan gave a smile and nods. "Yes it is...quite interesting."

Roman stood in his rainbiw skates."come on Logan! To the rink!" And he pulled a stightly wobbily logan after him.

Patton was bittting his tongue as he tried to figure out if he was putting the roller skates on right.

Virgil glanced at him."I can help you..." And he made sure Patton had his skates tied tight enough. "You fall in shoes, so we have to make sure you don't break an ankle here."

Patton giggled."thanks Virgil! So...you've been skating before?"

Virgil glanced up at him."yeah a few times..."

Patton nods."so then...could you teach me? Ive never been skating."

Virgil stopped and looked at Patton.

"If you have never skated,why did you want to come?"

Patton grinned."cause it means more time with my friends."

Virfil bit back a smile, patton's smiles were contagious.

"So..you want me to teach you?"

______

Roman had stayed near Logan most of the time the nerd was in the rink, using his free time to do tricks. Logan didnt skate much, but had enough balance to stay on his feet. The duo watch as Virgil and Patton were laughing as Patton learned to skate. Patton had fell, but when Virgil went to help him up, his skates decided to trip him, and they were on the floor laughing together.

Roman was the first to speak."Logan, they can't just be friends."

Logan hummed."I...do see what you mean..."

Roamn nods,"they have to be soul mates Logan! And we have to be the ones to set them up."

Logan sighed but gave the tiniest of smiled."there is no way I'm talking you out of it..."

Right at that moment, logan stumbled and grabbed onto roman's sleeve, making the other struggling to keep them both up.

"Sorry Roman." Logan apologize, Roman gave him a charming smile, moving his hand to hold it instesd.

"Its easier to keep you balanced like this." Roman smiled at Logan, who simply nodded and gave him a smile.

"I suppose it is."

______

After the roller rink, Virgil would smile back at Patton and greet him in the mornings, so...friends.

Logan watched then as Roman was ranting.

"Maybe an amusement park date? They could go through the haunted house and when Patton gets scared virgil can comfort him!"

Logan turned to face Roman."why not just a simple food date?"

But before either could continue, patton and virgil walked over.

Virgil took a breath."ok so..this weekend is a renisance fair and you guys took us skating so...i thought it might be...fun. To take you two too."

Roman and logan shared a quick glance, before returning to the two in front if them.

"I believe it would be quite...fun." Logan said. Roman nods in agreement.

"Yes! I do so love the renaissance fair!"

"So cool...see you guys then."

_____

Roman was dressed like a prince before the renisance fair.

Logan walked beside him."really Roman?"

Roman rolled his eyes."oh what, cant handle prince charming?"

Logan glanced at him."maybe if he was actually charming."

Offended princey noises came from Roman.

"Guys! Over here!" Patton was waving with Virgil beside him in a dark purple cloak.

Walking over, roman said."appears i wasnt the only one to dress up."

Virgil shrugged."I just like purple."

Roman rolled his eyes but smiled. "Hey hey hey! Emo nightmare, how about you take Patton to get a costume, while i help logan get one! Im thinking a bard."

Logan gave a sigh but nods."perhaps, but lets see what all there is."

Patton gasped and grabbed virgil's arm."oh what if I dress up as a belly dancer with the cute skirts?"

Virgil gave Patton a soft smile."why not? Come on." And took Patton to dress up.

Roman lead logan to a different costume shop.

_____

"Why do i have to dress up? The plan was to get Patton and virgil alone while being here to make sure things go well..."

Roman tightened his vest."oh shush, you look good anyways."

"I feel ridiculous."

"I could make you wear the poofy pants too..."

"Althought i love costume accuracy, i also have dignity."

"You do?"

Logan smacked roman on the head, not enough to hurt, but enough to make him get the point.

If Roman ever got a point that is.

"Awe come on lo, it was funny." Roman laughed a bit as he put a dark blue hat with a feather on top of his head. Logan looked at himself in the mirror.

"Ok its....not bad."

Roman grinned."trust me specs, i know how to make any guy slay, and besides, a prince always has a bard..." He wiggled hia eyebrows.

Logan didnt look away from the mirror. "Im not singing about you...or at all."

"Awe come on...please?"

"Nope."

Roman made offended prince nosies again, and logan let out a small laugh.

"Coen on, lets go check up on patton and Virgil." Logan Stated, holding his hand out to Roman, you took it smiling.

"Lets."

____

Virgil was laughing. Full on laughing. Patton was in a crop top and a skirt and so much of him jingled as he walked, but virgil was laughing at one of the puns Patton said.

Logan resisted the urge to groan as he heard patton tell another, making virgil laugh more.

Roman was still holding Logan's hand."well they seem to be getting on along fine without us."

Logan nods."they are quite cute together."

Roman nods and shook his head a bit."not cuter than us, i mean, these outfits are awesome."

Logan stared at roman for a bit, before giving him a smile and nods."yeah...not cuter than you."

Roman blinked."cuter than me? What do you-?"

"May i kiss you?"Logan asked with a straight (gay) face, but his ears were turning red from blushing.

Roman was blushing as well. "Oh uh, kiss me?"

Logan nods."yes I..."he took a breath." Perhaps...patton and virgil are not the..only ones with possible romantic feelings that could lead to a relationship."

Roman smiled and took logan's other hand. "Hmm...maybe you are right...but no, you cannot kiss me."

Logan blinked."oh I..im sorry i won't ask agian.."

Roman laughed a bit and put a hand on his cheek."you cant kiss me because I want to kiss you." And the prince proceeded to do so.

_____

From across the way, Patton giggled."awe virge, look at them, they finally got together."

Virgil smirks and held parent's hand. "Yeah, they did, good idea to invite them along." Viegil gave patton's cheek a kiss.

Patton giggled and leaned on virgil's shoulder a bit,"i love you."

Virgil smiled at him." I love you too."

________

Aaaaaaaaand done! Sorry it took so long, but i hope you like it and thst it wss what you were kooking for.

[haljathefangirlcat]

still thinking about that “we Have To Talk about how quips are ruining fandom by destroying meta and turning all fic into shitposts” post @ms-demeanor wrote a great rebuttal to, and about the other posts she wrote about it and about the You’re Doing Fandom Wrong attitude in it, and about the notes on those posts. not gonna reblog or reply to any of those because my thoughts are admittedly kind of random and jumping from place to place and probably OT to the point of the discussion, but you know. still thinking.

so, uh. not trying to start wank or anything but enjoy the ranting that got way out of hand under the cut.

so, like... that one “we can’t just block everyone who quips and shitposts because some of these people also write actual meta but then they unfortunately go back to Not Engaging With Canon by writing quippy shitpost-y stuff” line, or however it was actually phrased? besides the blatant entitlement with the “you have to fandom ONLY in ways I like, I can’t just engage with the part of the content you create that I’m interested in and scroll past the rest” thing (which kinda reminds me of the whole “you can’t CNTW on some of your fics, I should be able to read ALL of your fics” thing, in a way) and the ”I refuse to curate my fandom experience and I’ll make it some stranger’s problem” thing (which... reminds me of a few other things, but tbf it has probably been around since the very first days of fandom), what if someone doesn’t even see meta and quips/shitposts as fundamentally different and mutually exclusive approaches to fandom? what if they see them as just two ways to be interested in a specific fandom and interact with it, and maybe even closely linked together, so going from one to another is actually very, very easy for them? hell, what if they (gasp!) even mix quips and meta together sometimes?

I have a few posts about what I think Baran bo Odar and Jantje Friese might have been doing with mythological references and themes in Dark, and about what I got from the series finale. some are meme-like, phrased in a joking tone, probably even shitpost-y? another one is literally just a gifset plus me having intense Feels in the tags, and the last one is an edit of the kind I’ve seen people complain about as “those cringey unoriginal tumblr aesthetics that all look the same” in at least a couple of occasions. does that automatically mean I only wanted to “win” at fandom (with my hard-earned prize being... a handful of notes in a fandom that’s not even that big compared to others) and that I haven’t actually spent probably way too much time thinking about the significance of Martha’s Ariadne play as a commentary on character interactions/plot/narrative themes (and honestly still do from time to time), or that I don’t occasionally read the captions under other people’s gifsets and suddenly feel very much enlightened about why the Ariadne play mentions the myth of the Flood of all things? that I didn’t start reading posts and comments and reviews and theories about the series finale as soon as I finished watching it? that, just because I didn’t write 10K+ words of Perfectly Serious Seriousness about all that stuff, I simply refused to Engage With The Text? 

... and if I said that I feel a little irrationally self-conscious at the idea of writing down all of my (often rambling, sometimes jumbled) thoughts about a series that to me actually does feel very deep and complex, so adding memes and humor to that or finding different means to put my ideas out there makes me feel more comfortable expressing myself while also taking off the (admittedly made-up) pressure of having to write a whole coherent essay where I have to find a clear and explicit way to explain where every single thought comes from and how it leads to the next like I’m gonna get graded on it? or that a lot of those thoughts stem from memories of spending five years of high school translating and analysing ancient Greek poetry and reading and watching and discussing every available interpretation and reinterpretation of it from Nietzsche to Vernant to Dürrenmatt to Christa Wolf to Pasolini to a lot of others and from certain things in Dark violently hurtling me back to those times without even asking for permission, so a part of my self-consciousness is actually “I probably don’t actually know/remember enough about this to base a whole in-depth analysis on it even though I do think there’s something there” and another part is “shit I’m too lazy to dig through all of my old textbooks and homework and additional readings to hunt for the thing I feel the desperate need to reference or figure out who might have said it, so no extended explanation here either”? I guess in the end it would all boil down to “there’s an amount of effort and physical and mental energy I’m willing to put into fandom but I also have limits to stop something that makes me feel happy from becoming a chore”, which. considering the whole “you have to put all your resources into constantly pouring out 100% serious meta and nothing else because that’s what I like, no deviations allowed” thing? yeah, I can see saying stuff like that would still make me a blight upon fandom. and/or Not Engaging.

which, I realize, it’s a thing I keep coming back to. but that’s because I really, really, really hate it? seriously, what even counts as Engaging With The Text correctly? not shitposts, and not quips either, apparently. Regardless of the fact that humor and crack have existed in fandom since forever and that it’s actually not uncommon AT ALL for them to be born out of looking at canon from different angles, pointing out whatever the fan in question finds surreal/strange/implausible/convoluted/awkward/just kinda funny about it. 

also, not canon divergence/what if fics motivated not by a desire to “fix” something that made us feel bad when it happened in canon but by a desire to actually fix what we felt was objectively a poor writing choice from the author, because we shouldn’t Engage by analysing the text to criticize it or to think over how and why certain aspects of it don’t work for us or how we think the structure of the text itself could be modified or even improved, we should Engage by... writing meta and/or writing canon-compliant fics with perhaps a little allowance for slightly-to-the-left-of-canon-compliant missing moments fics, I guess? 

from what I’ve gathered from reading other fandom discussion some time ago, AUs are also out, especially Modern/No Powers AUs, because those are always just an excuse to slap your fave’s name on your OC/disguise your original fiction as fanfic to get comments/ignore all that’s interesting about canon to write yet another dumb syrupy high school or coffee shop AU, even if I’m honestly not sure what kind of AUs people are even reading to never get to the “there’s no supernatural threat so let’s focus entirely on the fucked-up family dynamics and blatant mental issues in a world where you can’t just ignore them by marrying off your daughter or sending your son to be someone’s squire” AUs or the “this is pretty much what happens in canon but adding new dimensions and different outlooks on the themes by moving everything to a new context” AUs. seriously, I could rec you a pretty great “this guy would be a horrible father and treat his children horribly in any world, it’s not just the feudal society around him, it’s him as a person” AU and that’s literally just the first thing that came to my mind. but, hey, maybe Engaging is only engaging with the canon plot and setting and nothing else, what do I know.

... fuck, thinking about it, I’m not even sure if by “not shitpost and not quips” I should even mean humor/crack? because it’s not like the OP was clear about it in any way? maybe it’s just all that’s weird and tropey and not-canon-compliant? I can see the “everybody gathers in the main character’s stuff to smoke weed and weird shit happens” fic I got a chuckle out of some time ago being one of the dreaded tumblr-born shitpost fics that are supposedly ruining fandom by ensuring that fans stop thinking (?), but what about the “everything is the same but this one character is a catboy, not for any particular reason but just because” fic I’m currently following and loving? people have been joking and shitposting about catboys a lot on tumblr lately (I distinctly remember that the last catboy joke to pop up on my dash was the “I’m your catboy gf and I’m stuck in a wall” one...) and finding an always-a-catboy!AU initially got an amused smile out of me, so is the mere premise enough to make the fic just a joke/just taking a trope and running off with it/just part of a shallow trend? even when the author literally goes “oh shit just realized this is all a metaphor for neuodivergence and masking” in the story notes? unless writing a character who’s never explicitly stated to be neurodivergent in canon as a being literally or metaphorically neurodivergent in your fic is always shallow projecting or posturing issuefic... instead of, y’know, looking closely at the text and Engaging with it by interpreting it that way....

I feel all this ranting/venting might end up plunging into Why We Slash discussion territory now, so I better stop here.

anyway, in short, good to know I’ve been in fandom for years yet I’ve always been just a Fake Fan who Can’t Think and is constantly Doing It Wrong (by Not Being Transformative Enough, possibly). gonna do my best to stay exactly like that in the future <3

[olicitysecretsanta]

Mystery Solved

To: @felicityollies

From: @ginervamariechaseeverdeen (Lauren)

Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this hopefully fun high school AU about a mystery, hacktivism, the Arrow, a game of Secret Santa, and the start of Oliver and Felicity’s relationship!

>>––––––––>

“Frack! Of course, I would get stuck with Oliver fracking Queen, Mr. Perfect Billionaire who has everything and anything he could ever want. What in the world am I supposed to get for someone like that?” Felicity ranted to her friend Alena while they sat in her car during lunch.

The two girls first met when Felicity was freshman and Alena was in 8th grade, when Alena’s parents moved her family to Starling City. They had hit it off rather quickly, which was unusual for the two girls who were usually loners, but they bonded over their shared love of tech and eventually discovered another mutual interest—hacktivism. And that was the beginning of Helix, their hacktivism club in which they gave themselves projects ranging from breaking through the school’s pathetic firewall and into the system to fix an unjust grade—there was absolutely no justification for getting a failing grade in PE just because you couldn’t do a perfect pushup— to their current project, finding the identity of the Arrow, a vigilante who had been actively working to take down many of the city’s rich and powerful for the last few months. As well as discovering his identity, they were also trying to determine whether he should be stopped or helped. So far, however, they hadn’t made a lot of headway.

“I don’t know,” Alena replied, “but you should at least be glad your AP Bio teacher is letting you have a Holiday party and do Secret Santa on the last day of class since you’ll have already taken your AP test. Advanced Physics is just studying for the final which will be oh so much fun,” she sighed.

Felicity just laughed. “You take apart a computer and put it back together blindfolded, but physics just might defeat the mighty Alena. On another note, any leads on the Arrow?”

“I think he’s working out of the Glades. See?” she turned her laptop to face Felicity, and on the screen, were several videos taken from CCTV showing the Arrow riding his motor cycle down the same few streets in the Glades.

“He’s smart. He isn’t taking the same route every time, but he’s not that smart, because he’s just switching between four different routes. Now if we look at these streets on an overhead map, we should be able to triangulate his point of origin.”

“I completely agree, but that might have to wait until after school because the lunch bell should be ringing in three, two, one.”

A shrill ringing sounded from the school and all the students who had been eating outdoors despite the chilly December weather began to head back inside.

“It’s a little eerie how good you are at that,” Felicity laughed as she turned off her car and climbed out.

“It’s a gift,” Alena responded a bit sarcastically. “See you after seventh period?”

“Yep! And then we can get back to work on our project. Mom’s working the late shift again tonight, so my house is open.”

“Sounds good!”

The two girls separated to go to their respective classes, Felicity heading to AP Biology. The AP test was tomorrow, so she probably should have been paying better attention, but her thoughts kept coming back to Oliver Queen and what she should get him for Secret Santa. Despite the fact that they hardly spoke, Felicity liked to think she knew him pretty well. He was a year ahead of her, and his first three years of high school, Oliver was a notorious party boy, skating by in his classes and dating every pretty girl in school, but mostly Laurel Lance, his on again off again girlfriend since middle school. After his father had died in a boating accident last summer however, something had changed. He stopped partying so much, started actually trying in his classes, was currently off again with Laurel, and maybe for good this time, and apparently got into weight lifting. Because he had gotten really buff, not that Felicity paid much attention or anything.

Oh, who was she kidding. Oliver Queen was really cute and every girl in the school knew it. Not that it mattered what she thought of him. Oliver Queen had a very specific type: tall, blonde, and beautiful. So, a short goth chick with black hair and purple highlights didn’t exactly fit the bill.

“Maybe I can get him some workout clothes,” Felicity muttered unintentionally to herself, staring at the muscles in Oliver’s arms. Her brain to mouth filter was a bit faulty from time to time.

“What was that Miss Smoak?” Mr. Raymond, the teacher, asked and all eyes were immediately on Felicity.

“Nothing,” she said softly and began blushing, staring down at her desk.

“I know this material may not be challenging to some of you,” Mr. Raymond said looking at her pointedly, “but that does not mean that other students do not need this review session. So please refrain from speaking in class.” Then he began to carry on with the review.

When the bell rang at the end of class, Felicity gathered her things and began to walk towards her last class of the day. Before she could make it out of the Biology room however, someone called her name.

“Felicity Smoak?”

She turned around to see that it was Oliver Queen talking to her. Well this was an interesting turn of events.

“Yes, that’s me,” she replied.

“I’m Oliver Queen.”

“I knew that. I mean I think everyone in this school or maybe even the whole city knows that. But you were probably just trying to be polite and introduce yourself and I’m babbling like an idiot which will stop in three, two, one. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes actually, I’m having a bit of trouble with my computer, and I hear that you’re really good with them. I was wondering if you could maybe take a look at it.”

“Uh sure. What seems to be the problem?”

“Can I bring it to you tomorrow? It won’t even turn on right now, so I didn’t bother bringing it today.”

“Any ideas why it won’t turn on?”

“Um, I spilled a latte on it,” Oliver responded like he wasn’t completely sure that was the reason.

“Okay then. I’ll look at it and see what I can do. Just bring it to me tomorrow morning. I’ve got to head to class now. Don’t want to be late! Bye Oliver!” she called as she sped out the door and into the hallway.

“Thanks Felicity,” Oliver said, grinning a little as she hurried away.

>>––––––––>

            That afternoon, Felicity and Alena took up residence in what was formerly the spare bedroom and had, over the years they lived in Starling City, turned into Felicity’s office and computer workshop as well as Helix’s unofficial base of operations.

            “Any luck discovering his base?” Alena asked.

            “If my calculations are correct—” Felicity began.

            “And they always are!” Alena interrupted her before smiling sheepishly and motioning for Felicity to continue her thought.

            “If they’re correct, then the Arrow Cave is somewhere on this block,” Felicity said as she pointed at a street with practically nothing on it.

            “Well that makes no sense,” Alena said. “All that’s there is the Queen’s old steel foundry and that shut down years ago. Why would his base be in an abandoned part of town?”

            “I know right! It would make so much more sense to work from a populated area so that he could come and go without attracting so much notice on CCTV as the only person who ever went there.”

            “Exactly. Also, I’ve cross referenced the list of all his victims so far, and I think you’re right. It’s not just the rich and powerful he’s after. It’s the corrupt rich who abuse their power. With a little more digging, I found lots of dirt on all the victims that could have potentially landed them in jail if the SCPD was actually competent and active in the Glades,” Alena told her friend.

          �� “Have you figured out who he’ll go after next?”

            “Well, I have a list, and it keeps growing. There doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern to the order he’s going after these guys, so it could be any of these people or even someone we haven’t thought of.”

            “Well I guess our best course of action would be to hack the CCTV near the old Queen steel foundry and see if anything turns up in the next few days. Speaking of the Queens, you’ll never guess what happened to me today.”

            “You figured out what to get Oliver for Secret Santa?”

            “Nope. But it does have to do with Oliver. He asked me to fix his computer because he apparently spilled a latte on it.”

            “Well he came to the best. I’m just surprised his parents won’t just buy him a new one. It’s not like they can’t afford it.”

            “Well, the whole thing was a bit suspicious. I mean, Oliver Queen has never spoken to me that I can recall, and then he didn’t seem super sure about his latte story. He’s bringing it tomorrow, so we can take a look at it and see if anything is up.”

>>––––––––>

            The next morning, Oliver Queen approached Felicity as soon as she got out of her car holding a laptop riddled with what appeared to be bullet holes.

            “Uh, that doesn’t look like you spilled a latte on it,” Felicity blurted out.

            “Well, good morning to you too, and my coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood,” Oliver replied with a grin and shrug before handing her the laptop.

            “So, I’ll take a look at it and see what I can do. I’ll let you know by the end of the day tomorrow if I’ve salvaged anything.”

            “Thank you, Felicity! I really appreciate it!”

            “You’re welcome, see you later Oliver,” Felicity said quickly as she put the laptop into her backpack and dashed inside to find Alena before their first class of the day.

            “Alena,” Felicity furiously whispered as she found her friend at her locker. “You have to see this!”

            “What? Why are you being weird?” Alena asked, very confused.

            “Oliver gave me his laptop in the parking lot and you’ll never believe what it looks like. Here look,” Felicity told her as she shoved her open backpack into Alena’s face.

            “Uh dang, his coffee shop must be in a bad neighborhood or something…”

            “Yeah that’s what he said,” Felicity muttered, frustrated with all the secrecy. “How in the world did Oliver Queen get a laptop riddled with bullet holes?”

            “No idea. I think we need to investigate this at lunch.”

            “Most definitely. There’s definitely some funny business going on here.”

            “Do you think it has something to do with our secret project?” Alena whispered as the girls headed to first period.

            “But why would Oliver Queen be involved with the Arrow?”

            “Well he is rich…”

            “Yeah but I don’t think it’s necessarily on par with the previous victims.”

            “Maybe he has a deep dark secret!” Alena whispered with a chuckle.

            “Oh yes,” Felicity responded with biting sarcasm as they walked into their classroom, “he’s secretly using his wealth to force the citizens of the Glades to do his bidding. Honestly though, this is weird.”

>>––––––––>

            “Okay,” Felicity said as she sat in her car with Alena at lunch that day, “hook me up!”

            Alena plugged the cord coming out of Felicity’s computer into Oliver’s very dead laptop so that Felicity could attempt to extract any surviving data off the hard drive.

            “Well, well, what do we have here?” Felicity asked as she looked through the data she was pulling from the destroyed computer. “It seems that Mr. Queen is taking things that don’t belong to him. This computer says it belongs to a Mr. Warren Patel.”

            “And a quick search on him tells us that our dear Mr. Patel is rich and is competing with Oliver’s new stepdad to buy Unidac Industries. Oh, and surprise, surprise, he’s on my list of potential future Green Arrow victims,” Alena informed Felicity.

            “Why would Oliver have his laptop? Do you think it’s some sort of corporate espionage? I mean, couldn’t they have had someone at Queen Consolidated attempt to salvage the laptop if it was? And I still can’t figure out how the laptop got shot up in the first place,” Felicity babbled.

            Alena gasped, putting pieces together as Felicity babbled. “What if…” she trailed off.

            “He couldn’t be. There’s no way!”

            “But our footage from last night shows the Arrow definitely going to the old Queen foundry, so that’s got to be his base. And Oliver has gotten suspiciously buff this year which matches the Arrow’s description. Think about it. And now he’s got this laptop. It just adds up,” Alena argued.

            “I mean, I guess you could be right. Now that I think about it, based on the SCPD’s witness descriptions of the Arrow, he seems to have the build of a teenager or someone in their early 20s rather than an older guy. And I’m almost positive I remember something about Oliver taking archery lessons in middle school. And it would make sense that he wouldn’t be going to parties anymore if he’s out all night as the Arrow…”

            “I think we might have finally found him. Hey, what’s that?” Alena asked, pointing at Felicity’s laptop which was now displaying a blueprint of the exchange building.

            “If Oliver really is the Arrow, he must be after someone at Unidac Industries auction. But why would Warren Patel have had blueprints of this building. Unless of course he’s planning to try something at the auction this weekend which would make him a valid target for the Arrow.”

            “Felicity, I think we’ve got to get this to Oliver. If he really is the Arrow, which despite the evidence, I still think is insane, then he’ll need this information.”

            “Yes, but what if Oliver’s not the Arrow? I still think we need to get this info to the right guy…”

            “True. But how can we tell for sure. We can’t just go up to the guy and ask him point blank without seeming like we’ve gone nuts.”

            “And it could be dangerous. What if he doesn’t want anyone to know his secret? But Alena, just imagine if he is the Arrow! You would never be able to make fun of me for my tiny crush on Oliver ever again. I mean he would basically have the total package: handsome, mysterious, strong, fighting for justice…” Felicity began to babble again sharing more than she initially intended.

            “Felicity, you can stop with the many virtues of the new and improved Oliver Queen. He’ll probably get back with Laurel again before you know it. Arrow or not, you should probably move on. You know Cooper has been hinting that he wants to take you to the Christmas dance.”

            “No way Alena. Coop may be pretty cute and smart, but can you honestly tell me he doesn’t seem just a bit devious.”

            “Felicity, that’s a load of crap and you know it,” Alena laughed. “But let’s get back to the subject. How do we figure out for sure if Oliver’s the Arrow without asking him outright?”

“Hey! I’ve got an idea!”

            “What?”

            “So, Secret Santa is tomorrow, and I have the perfect idea for a gift for Oliver.” Felicity told Alena with a smile.

            “Which is…” Alena urged her friend to continue.

>>––––––––>

            “Thank you everyone for bringing your Secret Santa gifts. Please come up to my desk to find the package with your name on it. You may then open them and try to determine who your Secret Santa is. After that, we will enjoy some of the wonderful looking snacks you all bought while we watch a Christmas movie. Now let’s begin this holiday party,” said Mr. Raymond.

            Everyone grabbed their gifts, returned to their seat, and opened them, eager to see what they had received. Felicity was too busy watching Oliver open his gift from her to pay attention to the bag with her gift. As soon as he opened the box to see a Nerf bow and arrow, a brief look of worry appeared on Oliver’s face before he schooled his expression into a more neutral look.

            That look was all the confirmation Felicity needed.  Oliver definitely had the look of a guilty man on his face when he saw the bow. He looked worried that someone knew his secret, so Felicity planned to confront him with the laptop after school. Turning her attention to the movie, Felicity forgot about her unopened gift that sat on her desk.

>>––––––––>

            At the end of the day, Felicity and Oliver both approached each other in the parking lot.

            “Can we talk somewhere more private?” Oliver asked tensely.

            “We can sit in my car if you want,” Felicity offered.

            “Let’s go then.”

            “Okay, this one’s mine. It might be a tight fit…”

            “I’ll manage,” was Oliver’s only reply.

            After the two squeezed into Felicity’s tiny car, she pulled out the laptop and handed it to Oliver as well as a flash drive with all the information she extracted from it.

            “So, this laptop isn’t yours—” she started to say before Oliver interrupted her.

            “How did you find out I’m the Arrow? I know you were my Secret Santa Felicity, but how did you figure it out?” he asked gruffly.

            “Well it wasn’t that hard after my partner and I put the pieces together. You have the right build, you used to take archery lessons, you’re never at parties anymore, and you gave me this sketchy most definitely bullet ridden laptop. And it’s most definitely not yours. Mysteries bug me. They need to be solved. By the way, that flash drive contains blueprints of the exchange building where the auction for Unidac Industries is occurring tomorrow. One in which both your stepdad and Mr. Warren Patel, the owner of this laptop, are participating in. And it seems like Patel is up to something suspicious.”

            “Are you going to tell anyone?” Oliver asked point blank.

            “No. I think you’re doing a good thing. I don’t exactly agree with your methods, especially the killing, I really wish you wouldn’t do that, but if I were going to turn you in for being a vigilante, I’d have to turn myself in for being a hacktivist, and I have no plans to do that anytime soon.”

            A small smile appeared on Oliver’s face. “Felicity Smoak, you are remarkable.”

            “Thanks for remarking on it,” she replied with a shrug and grin.

            “You know it’s funny,” Oliver told her.

            “What?” Felicity asked very confused.

            “Did you even open your Secret Santa gift?”

            “Uh no, I actually was more concerned with being sure if you were the Arrow based on your reactions to your gift. I think it’s in my backpack though.”

            “Why don’t you open it?”

            “Uh okay then…” Felicity trailed off as she pulled the bag out of her backpack, pulled out the tissue paper, and found a sprig of mistletoe inside as well as a Bill Gates biography.

            She made eye contact with Oliver, and he smiled back.

            “I was your Secret Santa. It’s kind of funny that we both got each other. I wanted to get you something you might enjoy and something symbolic. Felicity, ever since you and your mom moved to Starling City, I’ve been fascinated with you. You’re smart and kind and you don’t care what anyone thinks of you. And most of all, you stand up for what’s right. I never realized before this year that I kind of liked you. I think I have all along, but I was too caught up in my old lifestyle and in Laurel that I never really looked at you like that.

            “I’ve been trying to come up with a way to talk to you all year, but then I decided that I didn’t want to put you in danger by associating myself with you. If my enemies ever find out who I am, my friends and family will all become targets. But, this computer stumped me, and I hoped you might be able to help. So, anyways, Merry Christmas Felicity,” Oliver told her stunning Felicity into silence. He slowly started to lean towards her when Felicity interrupted him.

            “I’m Jewish,” she blurted out.

            “Well then, Happy Hanukah,” Oliver chuckled and then leaned back in.

            Felicity met him half way and their lips met in a soft kiss.

            “I’ve had dreams about this,” Felicity mumbled.

            “You have?” Oliver asked, smiling.

            “I said that out loud didn’t I?” Felicity panicked.

            “Yes, but I like that you speak your mind.”

            “At least someone does. By the way, do you happen to have any openings for tech support in this whole Arrow venture? My partner and I have decided that you need the help, and if this laptop is any indication, you do not treat technology with the care it deserves.”

            “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into? You know the risks?”

            “As a matter of fact, I do. The members of Helix already break the law to fight for justice. We just want to join forces with you so that we can all be more effective,” Felicity explained.

            “And Alena is trustworthy too?”

            “What? How did you know she’s my partner?” Felicity asked, thrown for a loop.

            “You’re not the only one good at solving mysteries,” he said simply.

            “Well, okay then. Yes, she’s trustworthy. You have to be good at keeping secrets to do what we do.”

            “Then I’ll see you both at— “

            “At the old Queen Steel Foundry in the Glades tonight at 7. We’ll be there.”

            “I think I need to stop underestimating you Felicity Smoak.”

            “Like I said, mysteries need to be solved.”

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

For Halloween sterek, could you maybe do an au with Derek making homemade cider and it's his mom's recipe or something so he makes it every year and Stiles lives in the same building as him and he comes home from a college costume party and he's drunk so he just walks into Derek's apartment because the cider smells so good and Derek turns around and suddenly there's just a guy dressed up as Batman or something and idk maybe drunk cuddles end up happening?

I fucking love apple cider, so I really loved writing this, even though it took months (on ao3!)

When Derek turned twenty six his mother finally gave him the recipe for her famous apple cider.

It had been a tradition in the Hale household since long before he'd even been born, one every member of the family eagerly looked forward to each year. On the first day of fall in mid-September, without fail, after they offered Mabon prayers and shared blessings around a bonfire in the middle of the preserve, his mother would head straight to the kitchen to start making apple cider, her way of ushering in the new season.

When he was old enough, around six years old, she let him help, his siblings never having any interest whatsoever in helping out in the kitchen, too busy rough-housing with each other or watching football with their father and uncle Peter. But Derek was always eager to help, dubbed a mama's boy at a young age by both family and friends.

His mother would always smile indulgently, happy to have a little helper, and pull over a footstool for him when he politely asked if he could help in the kitchen, peering up over the edge of the countertop at whatever she was doing at the moment. So every year on the first day of fall she'd help him up onto the footstool or lift him onto the counter and let him measure out the sugar and cloves, count out the sticks of cinnamon to add to the slow cooker.

Once he was older, and no longer needed a footstool, his mother would have him slice and core the apples while she peeled the oranges, both of them talking about their week and upcoming activities, classic rock on the radio. Throughout middle school and high school, Derek would rant and rave about the basketball tryouts in late November and his mother would nod and hum in acknowledgement, offering a few kind words about how well he'd do and occasionally asking about his classes or how his friends were.

And every year she'd have him turn around, rolling his eyes like a typical teenager, when she added the secret ingredient, only giving him the okay to look again when she'd placed the lid back on the slow cooker. She'd smile brightly at him as she set the slow cooker on low to simmer for several hours, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and leading him into the living room to sit with the rest of the family.

The entire house had smelt of cinnamon and apples for weeks after just one batch of her cider, welcoming fall with the scents of the season. It was the scent of his childhood, hours spent lounging around basking in the aroma while his siblings tried to sniff out the secret ingredient.

He'd never actually tried to seriously figure out what the secret ingredient was himself, save for the times when he was younger and always tried to steal a peek from between his fingers. He'd simply chalked it up to his mother's many quirks and carried on, shrugging and figuring he'd find out eventually when she felt it right to finally reveal the secret ingredient.

It happened to be on his twenty sixth birthday, when he'd been back in California to visit his family, taking a few vacation days to fly back to Beacon Hills and spend his birthday with all his loved ones. Early on the morning of his birthday, just as the sun was rising up over the horizon, he'd walked downstairs into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee before going for a run through the preserve, only to find his mother sitting on the counter with a book in her lap.

She'd pulled him into a tight hug with watery eyes, whispering happy birthday and telling him how proud she was of him. He'd had to hold back tears of his own as she handed him the leather bound book which, upon further inspection, he found was a handwritten copy of all mother's most safeguarded recipes.

The rest of their family had found them like that a few hours later, holding each other tight and crying into each other's shoulders, any thoughts of coffee and running completely forgotten. Laura had teased him for the rest of his visit about him being a giant sap, only stopping when Derek threatened to withhold apple cider from her the next time she stopped by his loft in New York, their mother rolling her eyes fondly as they bickered like the children they'd always be to her.

He boarded his flight back to the Big Apple a week later feeling more like an adult than since he'd gotten his driver's license, since he'd gotten his PhD early, since he'd bought his loft in Brooklyn and started teaching at Columbia.

So, there he was at ten p.m. on Halloween night finishing his third batch of apple cider since he'd been given the recipe, singing along off-key to the Queen song he had playing on his phone, a batch of white chocolate caramel cookies baking in the oven. He was straining the cider through a fine mesh sieve, his cat, a calico aptly named Autumn, watching him from her spot on the kitchen floor, stretching lazily as she swished her tail.

Tossing the drained apple mash into the trashcan, Derek moved to strain the cider again to make sure there weren't any solids left behind. He paused when he heard Autumn meow, the lilting trill she used by way of greeting, turning on his heel to see what had elicited her loud mewl, the words of Somebody To Love dying in his throat when he saw someone standing in his living room.

He tightened his grip on the metal handle of the sieve, ready to bash the intruder over the head. But it wasn't just anybody standing in his living room—it was Batman. Well, someone dressed as Batman, anyway. It was Halloween, after all.

The mystery man's identity didn't remain a mystery for long as he yanked off his cowl and asked in a slurred whisper, "S'at apple cider?"

Derek nodded silently, completely flabbergasted, eyebrows furrowing as he took in the sight of the intruder, immediately recognizing him without the obstructive mask. It was his neighbor Stiles, an undergraduate at Columbia who lived across the hall and always said hi in the hallway and hummed loudly in the elevator every morning and had an overabundance of male guests that Derek's jealousy couldn't handle.

They'd talked a few times in the year Stiles had been living in the same apartment building, at the mailboxes and in the elevator, occasionally running into each other on campus, even hanging out with mutual friends to watch baseball a couple times. But they were nowhere near close enough to just come barging into each other's apartments uninvited and unannounced, let alone barging in dressed like DC characters.

Not that Derek would ever kick Stiles out of his apartment, Batman costume or not. He'd been harboring a crush on Stiles for an embarrassingly long time, falling head over heels for him the moment he'd overheard him ranting to his friend about how rampant bisexual erasure in history was, citing a disclaimer in his history textbook which essentially no homo'd Chopin's letters to Titus before switching to fluent Polish and reciting a snippet of one of said letters.

That had been almost a year ago and he still got butterflies whenever he saw Stiles in the hallway or shared an elevator with him, blushing like a little schoolboy whenever Stiles waved at him or asked him how his day was going. He'd actually run into a wall once, distracted by the way Stiles' entire face lit up when he smiled, not paying attention to where he was walking and smacking face first into the wall, his nearby students dissolving into hysterical laughter.

Derek had nearly had a heart attack when Stiles first met Autumn, sinking down to his knees in a move that made Derek's gut twist with arousal. He'd scratched under her chin and raved about how gorgeous she was, claiming he adored cats, always greeting Autumn with a smile and a coo about her adorableness whenever he saw her after that.

Every morning, Derek looked forward to passing Stiles on the stairwell or seeing a glimpse of him at school, feeling like a lovesick puppy. And now Stiles was standing there in his living room dressed like Batman.

Derek had a dream like this once — it had quickly become R-rated. He swallowed thickly at the memory, reflexively licking his lips.

"Uh, yeah," he managed to croak out, glancing back at the slow cooker, wondering what about apple cider was so intriguing. His eyes widened when he turned back to Stiles to find him crying softly, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Derek tossed the sieve into the sink with a clatter as he rushed over to Stiles, stepping over Autumn who let out a plaintive cry as he did. He gently held Stiles by his upper arms, frantically looking him over for any injuries, for anything that could have elicited his tears, urgently asking, "Are you okay? Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry,” Stiles sniffled quietly, his soft voice a far cry from his typical loud, endearingly brash, confident demeanor, the sound breaking Derek's heart. Stiles raised a hand to wipe his wet eyes, bottom lip wobbling as he tried to hold back more tears. "It's just... My mom used to make homemade apple cider and I smelled it, and it smells so good, and it just reminded me of her so much and I really miss her and your door was unlocked... And I'm really drunk and...I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey," Derek soothed softly, rubbing his hands up and down Stiles' arms, squeezing his shoulders reassuringly. "It's okay, it's alright. I know. Here--" he turned Stiles by his shoulders and led him towards the couch, gesturing for him to sit "--just sit down and relax. I'll finish the cider and pour you a glass, okay?"

Stiles sniffed as he sunk back into Derek's couch, relaxing into the comfortable cushions. He lifted his head to look up at Derek. "R-Really?"

"Yeah, really," Derek confirmed, grinning warmly as he ran a hand through Stiles' sweaty, disheveled hair, stroking his thumb over his cheek. "Just sit here and relax. I'll be right back."

"Okay," Stiles mumbled, voice thick and gravelly as he hastily wiped his eyes, looking up at Derek with wide, trusting doe eyes. He licked his lips, sniffling miserably, "Okay."

Derek grabbed the blanket he kept draped over the back of the couch and laid it over Stiles' lap in case he got cold, tucking it around his hips before jogging the short distance back to the kitchen, weaving around Autumn. He picked the sieve up out of the sink, quickly rinsing it off before he strained the cider again. He stretched to grab a ladle from the drawer on the other side of the sink before fetching two mugs from the cabinet above the sink.

He spooned some of the hot cider into the mugs, adding a half stick of cinnamon to each the way his mother always did, and ventured into the medicine to grab a bottle of aspirin, remembering of some of his own more horrendous hangovers. He carefully carried the mugs back out to the living room where Autumn was curled up at Stiles' hip, front paws in his lap, purring loudly as he scratched behind her ear, green eyes closed in pure bliss.

Smiling at the sight, Derek rounded the coffee table where Stiles had tossed his mask and took a seat beside him on the couch, Autumn mewing at him in greeting. He set the bottle of aspirin down on the table and handed Stiles a steaming mug of apple cider with a warm smile.

"Thank you," Stiles murmured, uncharacteristically demure as he looked down at the mug in his hands. He carefully raised it to his lips, closing his eyes and breathing in the heady scent of cinnamon as he took a small sip.

His eyes popped open, wide and shocked, the moment the cider touched his tongue, moaning emphatically as he took another, bigger sip and then another. Derek smirked into his own cup at Stiles' reaction, savoring both the amusing expression on Stiles' face and the familiar taste of his mother's cider.

"Oh my god," Stiles moaned, blotting his upper lip with the back of his hand, gloves beside his mask on the coffee table. He pointed at his mug excitedly, licking his lips before he spoke, voice much less slurred, "This is amazing!"

"Thanks. It's—" Derek paused, not wanting to upset Stiles any further by being insensitive "—it's my mother's recipe."

"S'really good," Stiles reiterated, nodding gravely to himself. He raised the mug to his lips again, taking another deep swig, eyes falling closed at the taste.

Derek was about to ask him if everything was alright, but he stopped himself. He would let Stiles sober up, offer him the use of his shower, maybe give him a change of clothes. But for now, they would just sit there and enjoy each other’s company and his first batch of apple cider.

[rabbitwrite]

Dodging Death (pt. 4) ー Lee Minhyuk

「 ｌｅｅ ｍｉｎｈｙｕｋ x ｒｅａｄｅｒ」

au: modern grim reaper

characters: reader (gender neutral), minhyuk, i.m (+ another mx member as the grim reader, their identity is introduced in this part)

genre: adventure, comedy, fantasy

word count: 2420

warning: implied death, someone dies in the beginning but they’re not really a character

Death’s got a new intern, and apparently he’s not doing his job right. The death rate has risen drastically, and the grim reaper allows lee minhyuk to assist him with collecting the souls of the departed. You happen to be one of the most recent deaths, but the rookie decides to spare you. The grim reaper himself, however, strongly disagrees with his decision. Death’s intern doesn’t seem so bad if you didn’t evaluate him career wise, but it’s hard to to get to know him when the grim reaper himself is out to get you.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | + masterlist

Bang!

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot commanded the attention of the Grim Reaper from afar, leading him towards his latest target much more reliably than his scroll in disguise did.

Swiftly, he proceeded down a narrow alleyway in which the sound came from. The loud noise subsided, only to be replaced by silent pitter patter as a gang of men fled the scene.

A pity, thought the Grim Reaper as he locked eyes with the victim who had been shot. This person's figure was slumped against a trashcan, and they clutched their chest desperately, but it barely managed to prevent blood from spilling out of their wound. The victim stared at the Grim Reaper with terror riddled in their eyes.

At this particular moment, Death was disguised in an outfit consisting of ripped jeans, a pair of Nikes, and a sukajan jacket. The only part of his attire that was not colored black were the tigers embroidered on the back and sleeves of his jacket, the heavy gold chains that hung around his neck, and the jade ring he wore on his left hand.

The mortal used their last bit of strength to scramble backwards, hitting their back against the wall. The Grim Reaper proceeded forward, bending down once he was less than a meter away.

"Death comes for us all eventually, though sometimes sooner than others. It's a shame, it truly is, but there can be no exceptions." He shook his head solemnly as if to offer his condolences.

There had been an uprising in the amount of murders these days, and there was little pity to spare. The only thing Death could truly offer was his services.

Extending his arm to reach for the wound, the Grim Reaper cautiously placed his palm against the bleeding flesh. The victim looked as if they wanted to retaliate, but too much of them had already been drained away by the bullet. The two locked eyes, and the sensation of fear dissolved into nothingness.

The target has passed away.

Faint wisps emitted from the hollow corpse of the victim, the last of their essence as their time within the Mortal Zone came to an end. Their soul.

Before it could cluster or materialize, it was absorbed by the jade embedded into the Grim Reaper's ring. The more it seeped into the stone, the more the scarlet liquid that had stained his hand subsided.

Once their soul was fully contained, the Grim Reaper retracted his hand without a trace of blood upon his skin. From the pocket of his jacket he took out his cell phone, the scroll in disguise, and held his finger against the name of the latest target.

"Cause of death... bullet to the heart," he whispered close to the mic. "Target deceased."

A prolonged ring emitted from the device the moment Death completed his last syllable.

Startled by the sudden noise, the Grim Reaper jumped up while clenching his fingers tighter around the phone.

Displayed on the screen was a header, 'Incoming Call' with the name of one of his subordinates below it.

"Yes, I.M? What is it now?" the Grim Reaper questioned as soon as he picked up the call.

From the other side of the line back in the Eternal Zone, I.M stiffened. The tone in his boss' voice obviously indicated that he was irritated by the interference, especially considering that it was interrupting his duties.

"Sorry sir, I know you're busy. I didn't want to interrupt you or anything but uh, I just thought you might like to know something about your intern..."

The Grim Reaper narrowed his eyes. "Minhyuk? What about him? On second thought, I don't want to know."

"No, no, no! You do want to know I swear, just please listen to me for a moment," I.M pleaded. "Minhyuk, he... made a little mistake with his first target,"

"Let me guess, did the runt fail to follow the set time of death? Or did he have some sort of trouble with getting a hold of the soul?"

There was a brief pause on I.M's behalf as he hastily tried to form some sort of response in his mind before speaking. In the risky waters he was treading in, he needed to take just the right measures to prevent himself from drowning. "Er, neither of those guesses are correct... or possible."

"Why not? Get to the point, I.M. I have things to do," the Grim Reaper huffed as the last of his patience slipped away at a rapid pace.

"Neither of those guesses are possible because... his target never, uh, died."

Death's jaw dropped, hanging low as he froze in utter shock. "They're still alive?"

"Yeah... boss, I know what you're thinking, it's a minor setback but I'm sure he won't-"

The Grim Reaper scowled into the mic, successfully cutting I.M's sentence off in the process. "Minor set back?! I told that kid to do his job right!"

He continued to rant through the call, but I.M was scarcely able to process the Grim Reaper's fury as he was too occupied with shivering in fear. He had never heard his boss so furious.

The only snippet he managed to understand was something about Minhyuk "having to prepare himself for what's about to come," but the boss hung up before I.M could question the notion.

Needless to say, there was a possibility that an additional name would be added to the list of those destined to depart.

"Where are you taking me?" Minhyuk questioned with a bit of a whiny tone. You pulled him by the wrist as you led him into your work building, only releasing when you reached the entrance to grab hold of your ID card instead. Pressing the flat plastic against the sensor, it unlocked the doorway and allowed the two of you to proceed inside. Scanning the area in search for any other co-workers, you sighed inwardly once you concluded that the interior was void of any other person. You folded your arms across your chest in an almost hostile manner, turning to face Minhyuk. "I was supposed to go on a little business trip for the day, I was hoping my boss was joking about leaving anyone who came late." "Sorry," Minhyuk held his hands up in surrender. "Though you probably would've missed the trip anyways," "Yeah, I definitely would've if I actually died back there!" you scowled, narrowing your eyes at the way he said such a comment so innocently and nonchalant. "Care to tell me your 'long story' now?" The redhead widened his eyes as his lips formed a tiny 'o' shape. "Oh, er, right. Like I said, it's kind of a hard concept for mortals to grasp, I've never really had to explain it because I'm really just an amateur, butー" "It's fine, Minhyuk. I missed my trip, I have time to listen to whatever you have to say." You interrupted, though it was clear that your patience was decreasing. "Okay, well you know about the whole 'Grim Reaper' thing, right?" "The skeleton guy in rags who chases people around with a giant scythe when it's time for them to die? Sure," you snorted without any idea as to where he was taking this. Minhyuk's eyebrows furrowed. "He's... not really a skeleton, and he definitely doesn't wear rags. The Grim Reaper does have a pretty impressive scythe, though.” "Why are you talking about the Grim Reaper like you know him personally?" you mimicked his expression. "Well, I work for him, so I kind of do..." he trailed off a bit awkwardly, bracing himself for your next reaction. It was almost like you had lost your voice. "You... you..." "I know it's a bit hard to take in, but yeah, this guy is Death's intern," Minhyuk gestured to himself with a newfound cheeky grin. "You... are just messing with me, aren't you? Minhyuk, you don’t have to make up such a far-fetched excuse. Just admit it, you accidentally almost got me killed but managed to save me in time.” You completed the stutters you left off from, catching the man you were speaking to off guard.

He didn’t expect you to be in that much of denial.

"Whaー but I'm not lying! The Grim Reaper really is my boss, and I was supposed to help him collect souls of the departed because the death rate is so high. You really were one of the people scheduled to die, it's a really complicated process, that's why I'm having so much trouble explaining!"

"Yeah right, and my business trip was going to be in Narnia! No wonder they left without me!" you responded sarcastically.

Minhyuk's head tilted sideways ever so slightly, and he sent you a look of confusion. It took you a moment to realize that the man didn't understand sarcasm, but at least the lack of understanding was mutual. You didn't understand what sort of fantasy he was trying to explain to you.

"Look Minhyuk, if you're not going to be serious about this, the exit is where we came from. I won't report you or whatever, you can just... go," you sighed in defeat.

"No, no, no!" he shook his head frantically. "That's not a good idea. I still can't let you wander about when I should be taking you to the Eternal Zone!"

You were just about to ask him about the so called "Eternal Zone", but a ringtone emitting in the pocket of Minhyuk's hoodie prevented you from doing so.

Pulling out the cellular device from his clothing, death’s intern tilted the screen towards him. A message from I.M was displayed on the screen, outlined in a prominent red that caused him to grimace upon reading.

I.M

bad news. the boss is fuming and he basically said you’d have to prepare yourself for whats to come. there wasnt much i could do so good luck pal youre gonna need it!!

“What’s wrong?” you leaned forward and peered at his screen, taken aback by the sudden change in Minhyuk’s behaviour.

“I don’t know who’s more endangered between the two of us,” he responded sheepishly.

You gulped. Something in the tone of his voice made you feel like he was being genuine. Like he wasn’t lying. After being caught up in a near death situation, however, you hoped your new suspicions were wrong.

But no, you were proven right by a crash that bellowed from a distance. Somewhere upstairs, perhaps? You were too startled by the sudden noise to pinpoint the area or source exactly.

As much as you wanted to oppose the notion, you couldn’t just ignore it. You were the only worker in the building at the moment after all. “I’m going upstairs to check what that sound was,” you declared.

“Wait!” Minhyuk grabbed your wrist desperately, tugging you back towards him. You lingered a bit, cheeks flushing upon the contact. His hands were cold, much colder than you initially remembered them to be. Were they always that cold?

Casting those thoughts aside, you pulled yourself free from his grasp and dashed towards the stairs. The redhead trailed after you, following you as if he were a lost puppy. The upset look on his face added onto the effect, though you didn’t want to focus on that.

Reaching the top of the steps, you were greeted by the setting of desks and computers sprawled about in discord, papers and other office supplies scattered and astray. A man stood not too far from the two of you, most likely the root cause of the chaos that was now the second floor.

Initially, his back was turned against you. But once he sensed your presence, the man turned around. Clad in a suit of pitch black with various buttons and badges pinned against the luxurious fabric, his appearance clearly made him look like he meant business, literally. If you didn’t work here, you would have mistaken him for the CEO of some sort. His hair was a bit out of place, yet the brilliant scarlet shade seemed so fitting. You could have sworn there was a glint in his eyes a similar shade.

He smiled graciously, revealing his deep dimples in the process. Half of you wanted to smile back, and the other half of you wanted to cower in fear. Who was this stranger, and what were they doing here?

You cleared your throat before speaking, taking the opportunity to conjure up the right words. “Excuse me sir, but only authorized personnel are permitted within this building. Therefore you should not be here, and you certainly shouldn’t be creating such a mess.”

Minhyuk hid behind you, clutching your shoulders while peeking over your left side. His touch was frigid, sending shivers down your spine, but as much as you wanted to shrug him off you needed a reminder that you weren’t alone.

“Oh. Forgive me then,” the man responded, a bit too nonchalant for you to get comfortable. “I guess I did get a bit carried away, hm? I’m just here to… collect something. Since someone was unable to do their job right,” his expression darkened, and his eyes darted to your side. It took a moment for you to realize he was now focusing on Minhyuk. 

“L-listen boss, I’m really, really, sorry!” the redhead stammered, pulling you backwards which caused you to stumble a bit.

Turning around to face him, you asked, “You know this man?”

“Of course he does. He’s my intern after all,” the man had taken steps closer to you by the time you turned around. “Don’t you know who I am, too?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you thought back to what Minhyuk had explained prior. “Let me guess, you’re the ‘Grim Reaper’?” you couldn’t help but muse. This had to be a joke. Maybe even some sort of dream.

Right?

“Is it too hard for a mortal like you to comprehend?” he retorted, smirking in amusement. “That’s fine. If the title of ‘Grim Reaper’ isn’t to your liking, I do have another name you can call me by,”

At this point, Minhyuk was shaking your arm while whispering your name frantically. He seemed terrified, and that made you feel even more uneasy.

Taking one more step forward, the so called ‘Grim Reaper’ met your gaze. With the lack of distance, you had a better view of his crimson irises.

“You can call me Jooheon, if you’d prefer.”

[kyberled]

☀ ♦ ♥ ☢ ✖

the salty af munday meme

☀ What’s your rp pet peeve? –> Ship forcing. This is literally the best way to get me to unfollow or even block another mun. I’ll explain what ship-forcing is below, but yeah, that’s one of them.

♦ What was a mildly annoying thing that has happened to you rp wise? –> See above. It happened once on my Warren blog, and once very recently on here. Now, a bit of a definition, here - I don’t see ship-forcing as asking me if I want to ship, or saying your muse has a crush on Braig - heck, that can be flattering (though I prefer if we know each other, first - it can get a bit uncomfy for me, kind of like virtual catcalling, I guess, when complete strangers tell me how attractive they think Braig is). I don’t see it as someone’s muse having feelings for Braig, one-sided or otherwise. All of these things are A-Okay, and can be quite fun, too! What I do see ship forcing is when someone asks if they can ship with Braig, and instantly, as soon as I say ‘we can give it a try’, deciding that our muses are suddenly soulmates, even if they’ve hardly said four sentences to each other, before. I see it as asking to ship, then immediately dropping the thread where they were actually in the process of meeting each other to have them now in the middle of a date, which, given the context of where, when, and how said date was taking place would likely have gotten them both killed. I see it as pestering Braig to do something ‘romantic’, having both Braig and I say no, he doesn’t want to, and the other person keeps pushing, regardless, or getting upset when Braig decides to respond with something not romantic and replying to that with some rude, snarky comment. ‘Uh, I think [muse] wanted Braig to do [X], actually’ - Yes, that has happened, before. I’ve been vagueblogged about, spammed on and off anon, been told I’ve made peoples’ depression/anxiety worse, had on-blog events ruined and muses killed and simply been harassed at all hours of the day because of ship-forcing and my trying to deal with it gently and politely, instead of just flat-out saying ‘no’ or ‘I’m not comfortable with this’. So, if it ever seems like I’m coming down too hard on someone in regards to shipping, I swear I don’t mean to come off as abrasive or rude - I just learned the hard way that you’ve gotta be blunt about your comfort zones or else things go south faster than a flock of geese on an adrenaline high. Basically, to sum this novel up: As long as you respect my boundaries, we’re good; if I haven’t told you you’re skeeving me out, we’re good. If I have told you you are, and you keep doing whatever it was, we’re not so good. 

☢ What fads/trends are you so over? –> I don’t really keep up with trends enough to know lmao. I mean I guess I’ve seen a few, but they don’t really bother me. You do you, and all… Though, I guess I never entirely understood the whole ‘personified objects’ thing? I mean, you do you, and all, but it just never  made sense to me.

✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started? –> It hasn’t, not really. I think the only real changes have been purely aesthetic, like small text,  contained themes, etc. I really don’t care what other people do, as long as they’re happy and not hurting anyone.

♥ What’s the WORST thing that has happened to you rp wise?

[Under a cut for length]

Okay, so, I told two of my rp horror stories over on Xig, so I’ll tell my third one here. Since I gave the other two pseudonyms, we’ll call this one ‘Cheeper’. Cheeper was someone I had met when a mutual friend we’ll call Battery allegedly recommended my blog to them. Now, Battery was someone I had approximately zero problems with. Really friendly, sweet guy, talented writer, great sense of humour, one of my favourite people to write with. So, I figured, if Cheeper was a friend of Battery’s, they must be cool, too, right? … Wrong. So, things start out okay-ish, as they always do, but things get downhill pretty fast. Starts off with small things, like ignoring asks or dropping literally all of our threads without letting me know. And I understand wanting to drop threads or not being able to get to everything in your ask box, but when that happens consistently, it gets a little disheartening.

The next little thing was when they started making AUs of my muse, and expecting me to write them. Lemme say here that I am totally fine with people suggesting AUs for my muses. That’s where this blog came from, Rodi suggesting a Star Wars AU where another one of my muses was Obi’s padawan, so, again, I’m fine with AU prompts. What I’m not fine with is when someone writing a really detailed version of my muse without consulting me at all, and then expecting me to write that AU they made with no warning and no problems. Cheeper comes into my IMs listing this novel-length AU detailing not only how their muse changed, but how mine did, as well. Basically, the entire idea was that their muse, who in canon was a big tank-type character who had been straight-up abusive to multiple characters, and turned them into a small, fluffy little mage who was actually a good guy and hadn’t done any bad things, and was being forced to do the bad guys’ dirty work, whereas my muse… Was suddenly the abusive one. For absolutely no reason. In a way that not only completely contradicted all of my personal headcanons - all of which were posted and easily viewable on my blog - but also went against all of what canon had showed us about my muse, and quite frankly made me really uncomfortable. I mean, you’ve seen some of the stuff I’ve written, you know I’m down to write some pretty messed up stuff, but to straight up turn my muse into a child abuser, WITHOUT CONSULTING ME AT ALL, just so your muse can be the good guy? That doesn’t fly so well. On top of that, writing such a detailed version of my muse and expecting me to play it for you? Why not write it yourself? I mean like I said, I am thrilled with AU suggestions, but, hell, keep it to a sentence or two, tops. Let me experiment and develop my muse to fit the AU myself, thanks. … And, while these things were pretty irritating, especially when a few of them happened over and over again, it got worse.

A lot of the time, when I’m having OOC conversations to get to know another mun before we start writing together, I look for a sort of ‘spark’ or ‘click’ - something that shows this person and I are gonna get along. For a lot of people, including my favourite partners, this click is basically immediate - just this instant ‘wow, we’re gonna be good friends, this is great!’, and, for others, it takes a bit longer, and that’s totally okay! Some people take a while to open up, or maybe it wasn’t a good day for one of us, I totally get it, happens to me, too. How quickly the click happens has absolutely NO BEARING ON MY OPINION OF A PERSON WHATSOEVER. There have been I think only three or four times I haven’t clicked with someone - twice on Warren, once on Xig, and once here. If I message you first, send asks, tag you in things, like your posts, etc, we’ve clicked, don’t worry. Anyway, Cheeper was one of these rare occurrences where there was not only no click, there was the opposite of a click. At first I thought it was just ‘cause our first convo was a bit awkward - from what I remember, it was basically just ‘hi, My name is [Cheeper], I’m [Battery]’s friend and he recommended your blog so I thought I’d give you a follow’, you know, typical ‘hi, nice to meet you’ type thing, I didn’t think much of it. Unfortunately, that was the only pleasant conversation we had.

You see, Cheeper had the habit of starting conversations with some variation of ‘how are you?’. Doesn’t sound too bad, right? Well, in typical Canadian fashion, I always did my best to follow social protocol and be polite, and say ‘I’m good/fine/great, thanks, how are you?’, and, much like Han Solo, I learned that there are some situations you shouldn’t ask that question. Every time, without fail, Cheeper would say some variation of ‘bad’ or ‘horrible’, and proceed to dump literally all their life’s problems on me, and I mean all of them. I’m perfectly fine with letting my friends vent/rant to me as much as they need, and offering advice is a pass-time of mine. But, I had only known this person for- Less than a week, when this started (I hardly even knew their NAME I had to look it up on their blog), and they kept going on and on about some really personal shit, like hours of how they hated their job and school was stressful, and their family was aphobic and never used the right pronouns, literally everything about their personal life, no matter how private it was, just- Constant negativity, all the time. It was literally all they spoke about, ever. I don’t know anything else about them, just that their life was terrible and they decided to use me as some sort of verbal stress ball. Even if I tried to divert the conversation to a different topic, or just ignore them entirely, I’d still get floods of negativity and complaints. And what makes it even better? They had a frickin therapist! This person, who had a professional, trained therapist, would spend hours unloading all of their mental/emotional burdens on me, an untrained stranger who had only said ‘hi’ to them once. And, after they had dumped all their baggage on me, they’d say, ‘oh, gotta go, it’s time to go to my therapist’. And, honestly? That was the only time I felt safe to post on my blog. Yes, you read that right - it was the only time I felt safe to post on my own blog. I honestly could not make a post on my blog without Cheeper spamming my IMs with boatloads of stress-inducing negativity. And, call me selfish, call me insensitive, call me whatever you want, but, fuck, I had my own problems! I was in university, trying to get law school level grades, while working a part time job to try and help my family out when we were struggling financially, doing what I could to make sure there was enough food in the fridge for my younger brothers, trying to help my grandma take care of my grandpa, trying to keep up with my martial arts - which I have to do in order to keep my job - and trying to write multiple essays for both my younger brother and myself, as we were prepping for our black sash tests, but he was also trying to get into film school, so I’d volunteered to write the sash essays for him, and, let me tell you, I did not need to play counsellor to someone I didn’t even know on top of that. And, like I said, this happened constantly, and I’d get a new flood of messages every time I so much as hinted at being online.

And believe it or not, it got worse, Sakrine.

I remember there was one conversation we had (’conversation’ being used loosely, of course) towards the end of our interactions where Cheeper was complaining at me, as per usual, and mentioned how all of their friends were blocking them without saying why. Funnily enough, I was planning on blocking them soon, myself (probably should have done it a long time ago). But, lo and behold, right after saying how they were always getting blocked, Cheeper goes and says ‘but you’d never block me, so at least I have you. You’re my best friend, Jay’. And I’m sitting here really uncomfortable because, uh, no, we’re not best friends, and I have no idea what gave them that idea, since I never told them anything of the sort, and in fact barely spoke to to them at all, both because I didn’t much care for their company, and because I could hardly get a word in edgewise - and, even if I could, how does one respond to a total stranger badgering you for advice on how to deal with their family not handling their being out well? I’m not out to my family, and I don’t think I ever will be, so, again, how can I give that sort of advice to someone I don’t know?

About the time this was happening was when I met and was chatting with Rodi, who’s actually one of my best friends and the light of my life. Like I mentioned above, it was at her suggestion that I decided to make this li’l OC mess that we know and love here. He was originally gonna be a verse on my other blog, until I realised that I’d have tags for a Jedi verse, a padawan verse, a Sith verse, etc., and that was too many for one AU, so I made a sideblog. Then, after only a day of having that, and a bit of encouragement from both Rodi and Milla (my main Talon), I made this stand-alone blog for my son, and I was having a great time.

Cheeper, however, was not, and made sure I knew it.

Now, my muse for that blog had been steadily dying, mostly because of this, but also for a few other, more minor reasons, and I felt way more comfortable here, was having more fun, and generally just enjoying myself way more on this blog than the other, so, naturally, this is where I spent most of my time. Within a day or two of my neglecting Xig, Cheeper pops into the IMs to complain about me, to me. Yes, I am dead serious, this is an actual thing that happened. They start badgering me to go back to my other blog, and, I dunno if this has ever happened to you, but, it’s really disheartening. I explained to Cheeper that I felt more comfortable on this blog (though I didn’t tell them why I felt that way on Xig; Perhaps I should’ve), that I had more drafts and asks on this blog, and that I had more muse for this character at the moment, so I’d be spending my time over here, at least for a little bit. Their oh-so-eloquent response was, and this is a verbatim quote, ‘boo, you suck.’ And I had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, so I didn’t. I just sat there, staring, feeling an interesting concoction of shocked, annoyed, and offended. About a minute later, they added a ‘lol, just kidding’, and proceeded to… Continue… To complain about me, as well as about their life and still expected me to give them advice and solutions I didn’t have. I’ve never had someone act more entitled to my time and energy as this person did. 

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking - ‘they were probably just some kid, Jay, young people can be like that at times, you’re taking it too hard’, and, hey, I thought so, too. I was nineteen years old when this was happening; Cheeper was around 24 or 25. Yup, this person was about five or six years older than me, and a grown-ass adult the entire time. And like I said, they were constantly acting entitled to everything I did, like I owed them something. There was another time where I’d actually gotten a bit of muse for my other blog back, so I went on, answered a bunch of asks, slammed out some drafts, sent some memes, answered some IMs… It was a really productive evening for me. Once I was finished, I came back here and got a bit more done. Next morning rolls around, and Cheeper messages me with ‘I miss you, dude. You’re never on Xig, any more.’ I tell them that, actually I’d been on last night, for a few hours, at least. Their response? ‘Well, I wasn’t on.’, after which they kept complaining about how much they missed my muse and my writing. I get this was probably supposed to be flattering, but it really wasn’t? Especially considering that, while they were going on and on about how much they missed me and wanted to write with me, they were completely ignoring the THREE STARTERS I had written for them in the weeks leading up to this point. Hadn’t even given them a like, which I like to do to let someone know that, even if I’m slow as all Hell - which I tend to be - I have seen it, and it’s in my drafts. So, I mentioned this to Cheeper, said ‘you know, I have a couple starters for you on the other blog, why don’t you check those out?’ ‘Oh, I didn’t see them, I’ll give them a look.’ And then, blissfully, they stopped messaging. Little while later, a few days, I got another message from them (keep in mind I never contacted them or interacted with them first, since, rude as it may sound, I was kind of hoping they’d get the message), and once again they were whining about how I was never on Xig again, so I went to check the starters again, and… Still no notes. So I ask them about the starters, and they say ‘I couldn’t find them’. You know how I looked them up? [my blog’s url]/tagged/[cheeper’s url], and, bam. There they were. I told Cheeper this and even sent them the link to their tag. They said okay, that they’d check it out later, and started complaining about their life again. I was serious when I said this was the only thing they talked about, outside of basically harassing me to write with them. Few days later, they get on my case AGAIN for not being on Xig/not rping with them. I check the THREE FUCKING STARTERS again,  STILL NO NOTES. I ask, and ‘oh I just don’t have muse for them right now lol’. And I’m left sitting here like, okay, do you really want to write with me, or are you just mad I’m not dedicating all of my attention to you and your godawful AU muses? I mean, I have NOTHING against AU muses - that’s where this kiddo came from, after all - but AUS WHERE THEY PUSHED MY CHARACTER TO BE A FUCKING CHILD ABUSER WERE APPARENTLY ALL THEY HAD MUSE FOR. And my character was a moral fuckhead I admit but he WASN’T OVERTLY ABUSIVE THAT WAS ONE OF THE REASONS I WAS COOL PLAYING HIM AS THE ANTAGONIST HE WAS AND JUST. And as well, when I have no muse, it’s apparently a major fuckin’ disaster and they complain to the ends of the earth about it and go on and on about how I should still be writing that character and how much they miss me, but when THEY have no muse I have to accommodate it and make allowances and write with them anyway???? Like???

So anyway yeah they proceeded to ignore those starters for months, and every time I posted a new starter call,they’d like that, I’d post a starter, they’d completely ignore it, then come crying and complaining to me, berating me and all but sobbing about how much they missed me.

BUT IT GETS WORSE STILL, SAKRINE.

After a while, Cheeper starts asking me about Star Wars. And I’m torn between ‘fuck no, this is my new safe place, and I’m TRYING TO BE SAFE FROM YOU’ and ‘well maybe if they get into this series they’ll stop getting upset with me for not writing on a blog I have no muse for and am not comfortable on’. So they ask me what they need to watch to understand Star Wars. I tell them to watch the movies, since those are the unchanging canon, no matter what Disney did to the Legends material. Apparently they don’t even have the attention span for their favourite show, so they can’t watch the movies. They complain to me about that for a while, because apparently I care. I did not. I tell them that everything Star Wars - or at least, in the era I write in - revolves around those movies. I tell them they can just watch the PT (and explain what the different trilogies are) and that will get them caught up with where I write. Nope, can’t do that. So I tell them there are book versions of the movies they can read, instead, and there are also comics and stuff they can look into if that would be better.

Nope, don’t have the attention span for books.

Complain about that to me for a while, then ask what they absolutely HAVE to watch to understand. 

I tell them about the Clone Wars show, give them a link to the relevant KissCartoon page. They ask how long the show is - I tell them the number of seasons (mention that 6 is unfinished), and the average length of an episode.

Nope, don’t have the attention span for that, either.

They reiterate that they hardly have the attention span for their favourite show, and once again complain to me before asking me what the /HAVE TO WATCH/ to understand.

I tell them that they’re free to try interacting with my muse on their KH blogs, since I’m open to crossovers and still, for some ungodly reason, trying to be civil.

They keep asking about star wars.

I mention the video games.

Don’t have the attention span for video games.

So this person, who apparently can’t watch movies or TV shows, or read books or comics, or play video games, is asking me what source material they need to know to roleplay a Star Wars verse. 

I, as a last-ditch and mostly sarcastic effort, give them a link to Wookieepedia. I’m a terrible person, I know.

…

They don’t have the patience to look through the wiki pages.

I’m all but smashing my face against the keyboard now, while this person is COMPLAINING TO ME ABOUT HOW LONG STAR WARS IS. 

I mean I get it’s a lot but I tried to break it down?? And last I checked I’m not George Lucas like I’m sorry but it’s not my fault, my problem, or in my power to change? And I tell them it’s 40 years worth of worldbuilding and try to help them break it down again and they just KEEP FUCKING COMPLAINING.

And after like. Two hours of me trying to reason with them and help them out they say ‘I’m not even interested in star Wars, I just want to write with you’. 

And now, maybe I’m reading into it too much. Maybe I listen to too many narrated Let’s Not Meet videos too late at night. But holy shit, I have never felt like I had a legitimate stalker until that moment. It was one of the most uncomfortable things that has ever happened to me. I had zero idea how to respond, and so again I don’t think I did. Or, if I did, it was to again try to explain to them that there was a lot of material, and they should [leavemethefuckalone] focus on things they were interested in, especially if they didn’t think they could handle just the show. So they complain to me about that for a bit, before moving on to other topics to whine about. Always comes back to how I’m not writing with them any more (meanwhile, the countless starters I’ve written them are still being ignored, as are any and all threads we had on the go at the time. Everything’s either been ignored, abandoned, or both, all without letting me know.).I honestly don’t remember how that conversation ended. Just thinking about it makes me blank out and get a sort of mild pins-and-needles feeling. I mean, I get it was probably supposed to be flattering, and if we had been friends it might have been, but coming from this person? Alarm bells were ringing like a retro emergency evac PSE. 

AND IT GETS WORSE STILL, BECAUSE FOR SOME REASON I STILL PUT UP WITH THIS PERSON. 

So, enter me, just going back to uni for the spring/early summer semester. Our stage sets itself in my campus’ bookstore, at about noon or one o’clock in the afternoon. The line from the bookstore stretches from the counter, at one end of the store, wraps around the perimeter of that very large, very spacious room that was at one point a lecture hall, goes through the hall to the next room which also used to be a massive classroom, wraps around that and goes out the back door. I had to get up for an 8:30 that was across the field that day. I had non-stop class until this point, I had had no breakfast (though I think I had a sip of orange juice to keep from conking out), I had been waiting in line for close to an hour, my arms were full of heavy textbooks I dreaded having to pay for, and I only had one hand free for typing, and there was a chance I’d be late to my next class if this line didn’t get moving. As you can imagine, I wasn’t much in the mood for talking (though I think I made the effort for Rodi and Maddie (my best friend from public school who I still talk to) since I enjoy talking to them and it made me feel a bit better). Anyway, I’m in line, tired, irate, and scrolling through tumblr, and Cheeper messages me with a ‘hey’. Oh fuck, I think, this isn’t good. I greet them anyway - just a ‘hi’. I’m only giving one word answers at this point, since I’m not in a chatty mood, and, as I mentioned, I’m typing with just my thumb and that fucking sucks and takes forever, and I’m also trying to keep my place in line. Cheeper starts asking me about school, and I’m very confused, because never once in the months I’d known them had they ever taken an interest in me or my life. ‘so you’re in university right’ they ask. I remember most of this conversation word for word, and you’ll see why. ‘yeah’, I reply. ‘What year?’ they ask; ‘Second \o/’ I say, adding an emoji b/c I love that one. ‘Cool, what’s your major?’ they ask, and I’m getting hopeful that maybe they’ve turned a new leaf and my patience with them has been rewarded. So I tell them ‘Classics \O/’ with a slightly more excited emoji, and they tell me that’s cool, mention their major is in foreign languages - I think Chinese? Maybe Spanish? This is the one message I can never remember in its entirety, because the next one almost knocked me over. I replied with ‘cool’, and a half second later, Cheeper asks, 

“Are you out to your family yet?”

This complete fucking stranger, this grown-ass adult I barely knew, straight up asked me if I was out to my family, yet. I have never been asked that question before or since. I am out only to people on tumblr, and a small group of my most trusted friends from high school. And this person had the fucking audacity to ask me right out if I was. 

I was shocked.

I will not lie to you, I almost dropped my phone. I think I stopped breathing for a second, and I nearly lost my place in line. I was torn between just being frozen and being fucking livid. After a moment when I didn’t respond, they added, ‘Can I ask that?’ And I swear those two messages are tattooed into my mind.

“Are you out to your family yet?”

Holy fuck.

So I manage to collect myself enough to type out ‘no, I’m not’. 

‘Damn,’ they say. ‘Because my mom keeps messing up my pronouns and I wanted to know if you have any advice.’ 

Because why the fuck else would they care about me, right?

And then they proceeded to complain about their life and their aphobic family to me AGAIN, for HOURS, but at that point I’d been ignoring their messages and was instead talking to Maddie for advice on how to handle the situation. I had no idea what to do. I was lost. Like. I wanted to block them so bad but they’d been subtly guilt-tripping me about it for so long (’you’d never block me, you’re my best friend’ was just the start of that, tbh) that I felt bad for it? And Maddie was just like ‘jay no that’s fucked up get rid of them’ and I did.

I have never once regretted it and holy fuck it feels amazing to get this shit off my chest.

And yeah, so.

That was one of my worst RP experiences.

Are you out to your family yet.

I’d sell them to Satan for half a stale corn chip I swear to Christ.