#I’ll be working on heart button designs to sell since I can make those at home

[taintedmegane]

I feel awful asking this but. im a physically and mentally disabled trans man who is financially struggling recently. i am on SSDI and can only do so much with art as extra income every month

im paying off medical bills (major surgery and ER visit) still, and help out my family a lot with bills (my part of mortgage every month, as well as others as needed). i am unable to do work beyond art commissions and my etsy shop, which will both open back up soon

in the meantime, if you have Anything at all to spare, my ko-fi and Venmo are MeganeHaven (I am not currently in the red, but at this rate I will hit red within a couple months)

thank you so much!! and im genuinely sorry to have to ask this. I was avoiding this for as long as I could

[mahou-furbies]

I actually really liked those insight posts about Precure brooches, items, and fairies. I was wondering if you could do one about their weapons?

The Precure rankings take quite a lot of time to write so it’s nice that someone reads them!

But yes, the weapons. I haven’t made it a secret that I dislike the toy ad-like weapon designs so I don’t really care for many of these (common complaints: looks ugly and cheap, too much pink even for non-pink characters, rainbow buttons where they don’t belong, buttons or lights that don’t seem to serve any purpose, too much detail), but reading about me complaining about that for dozens of paragraphs probably wouldn’t be very fun. So I won’t put that everywhere and this will be more about judging the items in relation to each other than how they’d fare against all fantasy item designs I know.

Especially with the season I haven’t seen it was a bit bothersome to see if an item was weapon or not, so I just made some quick judgements. I’ll do the other items that aren’t in this or the other precure item posts later.

Futari wa Precure

Not a huge fan of these kind of items where the design philosophy seems to have been “it doesn’t have to resemble a weapon in any way, a pink plastic thing with buttons will do”. I’m not against all weapons looking incredibly impractical (like I love Mew Ichigo’s Strawberry Bell) but here these just look incredibly bland and cynical to me (I mean cynical in a different way than me). 

I was going to be more generous with this since I thought it was a bow and bows are always elegant weapons and I’m always happy to have those regardless of how dumb the design looks, but reading the wiki I guess this is a baton instead. Boo! Still I like how it can be both a heart and also be bent open. The design makes me think of a baby toy though with all the round corners.

Futari wa Precure Splash Star

I like how the girls wear their items differently and the way the heart is framed is nice. But apart from that I don’t find these particularly aesthetically appealing, and they also look a bit too busy compared to the rest of the costume. Busy item designs are less of a problem if its a handheld item that’s clearly not a part of the base design, but when the characters are supposed to wear the item it often looks very out of place, as if it was just tacked on because the marketing team demanded it. Okay I’ll stop with this now

Not pictured: the versions with a star instead of heart, but they look otherwise the same and I like the heart better.

Yes! Precure 5

We now reach weapons I actually like! They’re pleasantly simple without unnecessary buttons everywhere, but with the tulip-like design with the cute little swirl there’s actually some point to it and it’s not just haphazardly placed buttons and lights and jewels. And as a fan of customisation I really like how everyone has their own take on the item. The pink girl apparently doesn’t feel the need to fit the theme though and hers is a lot less interesting to me, but at least it can sort of look like a flower (more like a butterfly though) so it’s not completely out of place.

Laser swors? That is a good idea. The flower is pretty too but I’d prefer it if it was a bit smaller, now it looks a bit unbalanced, and also why does everyone have to have a pink one again? Meanwhile the powerup version looks a lot more cheap, busy and gaudy.

Not a fan of this one, it feels like a portable lottery wheel, which would be a fun idea if Milky Rose had to work around with an item that gives her random powers, but I’m guessing that’s not the case. Another option would be that she’d use this to cut pizza. The blue roses and purple handle would make for a pleasant colour scheme, but then there’s the rainbow mini roses which break that, I think this would look more appealing if the roses were detachable and she’d attach the one she wants to use, but I guess the spinning wheel is supposed to be the Thing here.

Fresh Precure!

Pretty standard magical girl wands, white with obligatory pink for everyone and rainbow lights. At least everyone gets a crystal thingy at the tip in their own colour and card suit and it’s nice that they use their items differently (though Berry this is not a sword no matter how you try to slice it) but otherwise I’m not really interested.

Nice colours and the wing is cute, and I actually like the bizarre idea here. Like you could add power to the harp with the heart while playing it, or attach different attacks or whatever. But this exemplifies my main issue with the Precure items: okay, you can’t sell an actual harp with actual strings to kids so you sell this instead, ok. But why does the item in the show have to be a 1:1 replica? Disney can sell Elsa’s castle legos or inaccurate cheap-looking dolls but the counterparts in the movies look perfectly serviceable, so why can’t Passion have actual strings in her harp instead of these huge led lights?

Heartcatch Precure!

I like the metallic or glassy sheen at least in this shot and the shape of the handle. What I don’t like is the middle heavy design, I’d rather have the rainbow thing in the middle (which I’d prefer not be rainbow) either be smaller and moved to the tip, or the end part being longer so it’d look a bit like a sword.

This one is rather basic, like it’s just a circle with hearts around it. But at least it doesn’t do anything stupid and the colour palette checks out.

Suite Precure

I like the idea of being able to split the item in two but especially Rhythm’s looks a bit silly when it’s not in two parts, like now it’s not a baton or staff or really anything I could describe. But somehow I still like Melody and Rhythm’s items, at least they have consistent colour schemes and despite initially looking very different actually use the same base so that’s nice customisation. But how come the pink girl didn’t get the more ornate one? The guitar looks more on the cheap side, this is a toy guitar, not a magic guitar. And are those multicoloured buttons I spy again? But thanks to the more calm colour palette it’s not the worst toy guitar ever at least.

Smile Precure!

My first impression on this was “wow this is so dumb”, but the horse’s sleeping eye with the glamorous eyelashes makes it loop back to awesome. This is girly fairy tale magical girl design cranked up to eleven and I can only marvel the boldness. However like with the Heartcatch wand this one feels a bit unbalanced, the bottom and middle are pretty big so I’d prefer if the “blade” part was a bit longer and again the rainbow hears feel unnecessary.

Based on design alone this is a contender for my least favourite battle item, but I’ll have to hold my full judgement until I see it in action. But this has it all, there’s obligatory pink and rainbow, overdesigned, looks very cheap and gaudy. 

Doki Doki! Precure

This is some seriously extreme lipstick. I guess this is a serviceable design if you want to make a lipstick based weapon, it’d probably not look very impressive if it was regular size. I like the twist-able red jewel, and the fact  that while she can use different lipstick colours, the item sticks to just red and yellow.

Here we have the collapsible bow I was hoping we’d get with Shiny Luminous. Apart from the obligatory pink palette for everyone I really like these, again bow makes for a great weapon, and I also like its collapsed form, that thing just invites you to press a button and have it open up. Though holding the bow looks kind of awkward. And is this the largest Precure weapon we have? Where are the huge staffs?

For starters, I find there’s something absolutely hilarious about the name “Magical Lovely Pad”. Story-wise it has the baggage of belonging to an attack where the other characters send their power to Mana (of course) so she can take all the spotlight, but as far as the design goes I guess it’s alright for a magical tablet. And I thought this was one of the items where it just floats in the air awkwardly but apparently the Cures do hold it in their hands, so points for that.

The harp is kind of silly looking but i have to commend it for at least having the strings not be thick as a straw.

Happiness Charge Precure!

A pretty straightforward item, nice colour palette and the heart ribbon things at the ends are the same as the bracelet and resemble the brooch too so it’s consistent with the reset of the items in the season. I also like how it can be split into maracas too.

I think the idea of a star-shaped tambourine is perfectly serviceable, but this one just looks kind of cheap, like we’re in the baby chew toy category again. But I feel this could be salvaged if you gave it a more harmonious colour palette, made the heart look more like a crystal and the jingles metal (i.e. not so plastic-y).

This one always felt hilarious in that you have a grown man character showing interest in this thing. But as a weapon it’s one of my least favourites. The makeup pens that come with this are fine I guess (though the makeup the girls put on themselves looks like the “this character doesn’t know how to use makeup” kind) but the main item is very unappealing to me. I guess it boils down to the fact that this kind of items feel more like that the Cures just push a button and then the item does its magic light blast of goodness and love on its own, while with the wands and musical instruments and such the Cures feel more like they’re actively using the weapon.

Go! Princess Precure!

An alright wand, even if the tip feels a bit too heavy. The mostly white-and-goldd design is a lot more preferable to the usual pink, the dress up keys get to take a part, and the tip looks a bit like a crown.

This is in the same category as Passion’s harp, nice colour palette and a musical instruments make for a great magical girl weapon in theory, but here the result is just too cheap and toylike. No way I can imagine a violin sound coming out of this, the only thing I hear is two pieces of plastic rubbing together.

This is it, the worst item. Magical girl weapons don’t all need to resemble actual weapons, but there are some limits to how far you should go. Out of all the Precure items this feels the most like the toy department just said “we want to sell a toy castle, so have the main characters play with one in every episode after its introduction”. Can’t they use a less awkward item to conjure this castle around them and sell a miniature version of that as a dollhouse or something?

As a toy this is fine, like I had a similar little castle (it was semi-transparent blue and you could turn on a pink light in it) and sure I could imagine placing some Pikachu toys on it and have them dance, but as a weapon in a story I hate it. 

Mahou Tsukai Precure!

These look pretty nondescript and forgettable. At least they don’t have multicoloured beads running down the staff, but there’s not much to talk about.

This one is cute but kind of basic too; the gold butterfly feels a bit unnecessary but if you remove it the whole thing would be pretty bland. Still, there’s nothing overly stupid and I like that the flower bud doesn’t miss the obvious that it should open in an attack.

Kira Kira Precure A La Mode

This one is a bit too bulky, but at least it makes it stand out a bit more. It also helps the item not look so unbalanced with the huge glass (?) ball in the middle. And it’s nice how you can see the Kira Kiraru in it; it makes the item feel more real when you get to see the resource it uses. The cream like decorations are cute and appropriate and the walking cane shape reminds me of the candy filled plastic canes I used to get from the summer market as a kid.

I got nothing on this, it’s another magical girl wand that doesn’t particularly stand out in any way. At least the rainbow buttons fit the theme this time?

Google tells me it’s an actual product, but to me ‘creamer’ still sounds like a Wrong kind of name to use in a kids’ show. That aside the idea of piping cream on the enemy is fun, but I don’t think they do that in the attack... But for the potential I like the design; unsurprisingly I’d remove the multicoloured decorations on the handle but otherwise it’s alright.

Hugtto! Precure

This one feels really generic, white staff with pink accents and rainbow jewel thingies. Not interested, next!

These look a bit too bulky for my taste, I think they’d look better if the neck was longer. The colours are also a bit too gaudy for my taste (and the guitar totally disappears in Macherie’s dress), though in their defense in better pictures you can see they have more white so the result isn’t quite so stuffy. But still magical guitars make for a good weapon for idol themed characters.

This feels really generic, like it’s just a bunch of hearts glued together. Next!

Star Twinkle Precure

The wand is pretty basic, but there’s something in its simpleness that I like. If you removed the pink and purple crown thingy it would be better, like only neutral white and gold, and everyone’s theme colours equally in the shooting star (or I guess the star is also yellow for Soleil but it still feels more neutral than the usual pink). With its many colours and short tail the shooting star feels like something from a baby nursery but I guess if the tail was longer it’d start feeling more like a sickle.

As for the prefume bottle, I don’t find the design particularly attractive, and it also feels like yet another case where pink has been shoehorned in. And the little ribbon feels very unnecessary.

Healin’ Good Precure

My criticism on Passion’s harp also applies here, and this time I also find the overall design less appealing with several of the details feeling a bit tacked on.

(the wands have already been bitched at in the henshin item post)

[joontier]

“One-Love”| CH. 3 - Wealth in Volumes

–> Summary: Love translates to zero in the tennis scoring system – the only thing keeping the scoreless player on the court is his love for the game.

–> Pairings: jung hoseok x female reader; kim seokjin x female reader

–> Rating: NC17

–> Genre/warnings:  FLUFF ASDFASJLDKF; a day in the life of a rich ass family basically; your cliché teenage crush feels; swearing; y/n forgetting her own period sksksk; Hobi being a slight perv; suggestive language; 

–> Words: 6.7k

–> A/N: good lord this hasnt been proofread bUT MY IMPATIENT ASS COULDNT WAIT; dunno how i managed to poop out 6.7k but here ya go i guess

“One-Love” Masterlist

Chapter 3: Wealth in Volumes

A sigh escapes your lips when there’s nearly no space left from the condensation that has formed on the container lid from all the patterns you’ve drawn for the past few minutes. Hoseok has never been this late before and neither did he miss a day at school. First period is starting soon and you’re starting to worry if something came up.

Hoseok arrives exactly two minutes before first period. The boy looks disheveled with unkempt hair and the top button of his uniform left open to complete the look. Hiro Yamada lets out a loud whistle the moment Hoseok steps in class. “Damn Hobi, never knew you were the kind to take quickies this early in the morning!” The boys snicker at Hiro’s comment while the girls vocally express their disgust towards the crudeness of it all.

“Seems like a tempting idea, whatcha think, _______?” Nadia whispers from behind, chortling louder when you miss at your attempt to smother her with your book. Hoseok seems disinterested by Hiro’s remark, but his lips curve into a small smile as he replies, “Jealous?” as Jimin and the others lose it at Hoseok’s response.

The daily classroom chaos continues, only ceasing when Ms. Chamber enters the room and greets the class a good morning. She’s a substitute teacher that will temporarily take over your Business & Management subject while your actual teacher, Mr. Santiago, is on his sick leave. It’s eerily quiet when she steps in, but your class is usually like this with relatively new teachers.

“Mock research paper.”

Three words is all it takes before a collective groan erupts from the class, complaints and protests, easily drowning out Ms. Chamber’s gentle voice. She taps a whiteboard marker against her desk. “Hey! I know, I know…” she sighs, resting against the table. “Try to think of it this way, you’d have additional reference for your papers next year, plus you have three months to accomplish this.”

The rest of the class continues to groan in objection. “On the bright side, I’ll let you work with partners. Go and take your pick.” Exhales of relief are heard throughout the room. Turning around to face Nadia, you wriggle your eyebrows suggestively. No spoken words are needed to express your intentions of choosing her as partner. She declines though, much to your surprise. You raise an eyebrow when Nadia nods her head toward Hoseok who’s sitting quietly beside you. Then she points to the Tupperware on your lap. You sigh. “Besides, I’m sick of your useless ass! I’m not flanking this subject because of you.” “Hey!” you cry indignantly at the accusation. She shrugs you off, giving you a double thumbs up before standing from her seat to approach someone else.

‘It’s now or never’, you think, contemplating on how to approach your seatmate. Without much thought put into planning, you place the container on his desk. He looks at you with wide eyes then onto the Tupperware in front of him. “Be my partner?” His eyes turn into small crescent moons at your proposal. Before he tries to look at what’s inside the container, your hand stops him.

“But before anything else, I didn’t get to say thank you for yesterday…”

“Yesterday?”

“Yeah, for your cheering and all… I don’t think I would’ve survived the game if it weren’t for your support. It really helped me. A lot.”

“______. Listen to me. You survived and won because you’re you, okay? You are a smart player. And besides, like I said, if it were easy, I would’ve done it instead.” He snorts, those tiny dimples above his mouth peeking out to say hi.

“Now what do we have here?” he asks, trying to look through the condensation on the lid. “It’s bibimbap. I’ve heard once that it was your favorite. So I made it for you this morning… It’s probably gone cold now and I know you don’t like eating food that’s gone cold so I can just take this back if…” your hands are slowly creeping up the container, and this time it’s he who stops you.

“______ it’s fine. You really didn’t have to but I truly appreciate this. Thanks.”

;

“Wow.”

No other word comes out of your mouth but the monosyllabic expression. You probably should’ve been used to it at this point, after staying long enough at Thames. The subtle normality of everything for them that is extreme to you is something that will most likely take some time to get used to. The expensive cars, the more extravagant hobbies…hell, the tuition fee alone was enough to make your knees turn to jelly.

You and Hoseok both agreed to start the paper as early as possible so here you were on a Saturday morning, trying to figure out the maze that is Hoseok’s residential village. To your luck, Hoseok suggested that you come over to his house to talk over your assignment, else he would’ve lost himself in the mess at your home.  

“Which street was it again? Your father asks, diverting your attention from the mansions lined up along the street. “Uh, it was Harrison I think…” you recall, grabbing your phone to check the address. “I’ve been here a few times before for Hobi’s training but the clubhouse was just a block away from the village’s entrance. Now, I’m not even sure if we’re still in the same country.” Your lips press into a firm line at your father’s lame attempt at a joke, but you also had a hunch that you had driven yourselves out of the village, or worse – straight to another one.

Your father rolls down his window to see the street signs clearer, also on the lookout for potential help. Driving over to the side, your dad puts the blinkers on as he tries to assess the directions that Hoseok had previously given you. “I’m pretty sure we followed it,” he mumbles, taking another glance outside the car’s window.

Before you offer to try calling Hoseok, a van behind you honks and stops beside your car. When they roll their window down, you instantly recognize the pair, Tita and Adit who both work for Hoseok’s family. “Sir Hoseok told us you were nearby. We figured we might see you on our way home.” Tita says, waving at you while Adit tells your dad to tail them.

A street and a relieved sigh from your father later, your dad finally drops you off in front of the house and a black steel gate slides open at your arrival, revealing a contemporary wonder of a mansion. “Remember to always be on your best behavior. I’m sure the Jungs are nice and all, but don’t take advantage of it. Please don’t touch anything, god knows what sort of eccentric antique they might’ve spent their money on. And no funny business!” He repeats your mother’s endless reminders that by the time he finishes, you’re already standing outside the car, fingers tapping against the car door impatiently. “Yes dad, I knowww-“ His eyes squint at you, “Fine, but don’t come home crying when you’ve accidentally broken something worth more than our lives combined. You’re selling your own kidneys, kid.”

With a curt wave, he rolls the window back up and drives away. Tita waits by the gate to walk you to the front door. Suspicions confirmed, this house spoke wealth in volumes. She chuckles at you as you take your time with every step, pebbles crunching underneath your weight while your eyes marvel the alluring abode. Waiting for you by the threshold, she beckons you over with a wave. “Sir Hobi has been waiting for you all morning.”

You quicken your steps, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She must’ve thought it strange to have you gawking all over the place. You’ve gone to Nadia’s place a few times, but there really wasn’t anything to compare since she lived at an apartment, albeit a luxurious one, it was still different having an actual house and property. Considerably, foreigners didn’t exactly have rights to own residential property in the country which is why it came as a surprise to you that Hoseok lives in this elite village, more so when you realize he resides in an actual estate.

The mansion is beautiful beyond description. With the interior looking like an actualization of a designer’s 3D floor plan, your eyes take a good sweeping look at the place while Tita asks you to take a seat as she calls for Hoseok. You wonder how lovely it is to come home to this every day. It’s spacious enough to practice a floor exercise yet somehow it feels homey with the serenity that comes with the place, despite being situated at the heart of the city. You notice a perfectly mowed courtyard outside the glass walls and the glistening water of the swimming pool at the far edge.

A lady carrying a glass of water and something else wrapped in a plastic bag. Placing the glass on the table, she kneels to where your feet are rested and unwraps the bag. She pulls out a pair of disposable slippers, slips them on your feet and takes your shoes away before you could get a word out.

“_______!” Hoseok calls from above before scurrying down, his own slippers flicking against the staircase noisily. His arms reach out for a hug but pulls them back just as fast, realizing it would’ve been too awkward this early in your friendship (that he secretly hopes will blossom into something more). You don’t put much thought into it, waving at him in greeting instead. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” You give him a nod in reply.

“Oh…you should eat breakfast again then!” You decline his offer, assuring him that you just had a heavy breakfast. Okay, you may or may not have grabbed a single sandwich off someone else’s plate on your way out, after spending too much time trying to look presentable. Hoseok won’t have any of your protests, so he drags you to the kitchen by the hand, “Hobi!” There’s a slight chill that runs through you when his skin touches yours, his slender fingers enveloping your short ones.

Hoseok leads you to the dining room where there’s enough food prepared for a family of ten. He checks each container then back at you, inspecting your features like he’s morphed into Gordon Ramsay. Hoseok is still holding your hand by the time he brings you to the kitchen and quite frankly you don’t want him to stop.

Another lady in the identical scrub suit greets him as you both enter, her lips forming a small smile when she sees your hands together. Her eyes meet yours when she asks Hoseok if he needed anything. “Just wanted to see what ______ wanted to eat.” Your head shakes to say ‘no’ but Hoseok sees this as the complete opposite. “She’s just shy.” You send her an apologetic smile when he drags you once more around the marble countertop to face a four-door fridge that towers the both of you easily.

This damn thing is a whole supermarket! The stored food could make up the whole color wheel. He points out five different cheeses, fruits cut into bits and stowed away in containers, multiple bottles of water, milk, and juice. Hoseok even lets you inside their pantry, where stacks of food and beverages make up at least seven full shelves inside. To Hoseok it seems like he’s just offering you food, but to you it feels like he’s taking you to the grocery.

The curious voice at the back of your head is telling you to give in to the temptation but your mother’s voice appears out of nowhere, her voice ringing in your ears – “They’re nice, but don’t abuse their generosity.” Your stomach grumbles, voicing its opinion so you settle on a compromise. “Um, there already seems to be plenty of food at the table and unless they’re for someone else…” “Are you sure? Mom felt homesick so she cooked all of those this morning. Although I doubt you’re familiar with Korean food – they can be a bit spicy. I know you don’t like spicy food.”

Your heart warms at the thought of him remembering the little things but then you recall how his mother made all those just because she felt homesick – your mom won’t even cook two dishes for dinner and Mrs. Jung is out here cooking a whole feast for no one in particular just because she wants to lift her spirits. “I don’t like spicy food but it doesn’t mean I can’t handle it,” you start “and I’m sure you mom’s cooking is lovely.”

“Breakfast it is then.”

You agree on Mrs. Jung’s specialty – her kimchi fried rice while Hoseok asks the lady for bibimbap. She nods curtly, returning to the kitchen to reheat the food. When the lady serves Hoseok the steaming bowl of his favorite dish, Hoseok consequently whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell them, but I like yours better.” He follows that with a roguish wink. You blink owlishly in return, unsure whether your cheeks are burning because of the steam from the bowl in front of you or because of Hoseok’s comment.

The lady serves Hoseok a steaming bowl of bibimbap, to which Hoseok consequently whispers in your ear, “Don’t worry I like yours better.”

;

Hoseok tiredly rubs at his eyes, deeming he’s done enough schoolwork for the day, taking a turn on his swivel chair. When you check the time displayed on the upper right corner of your laptop, it’s been three hours since breakfast with Hoseok. And, surprisingly, the amount of schoolwork you’ve done is twice as much as you achieve when you’re partnered with Nadia. You’ll have to rub this in her face on Monday.

Hoseok’s habits had prevailed over your cramming and you’re glad that time had passed in productivity. Then again, you had been too shy to open up about other topics when he’s right beside you, typing away furiously the whole time. When you take a glance on his screen, it seems like he’s already written a whole page while you’re stuck with a paragraph that screams disappointment.

“_______, you okay?” You hadn’t realized you’ve been staring at your paragraph of shame for so long.

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Closing your laptop quickly before he gets a peek, you move your own chair away from his desk, stretching out your limbs. Suddenly, you feel an all-too-familiar ache in your lower abdomen and you panic, checking the mini calendar on Hoseok’s desk. Damn, how could you not have realized it’s the last week of the month? And on top of all that, you had to be in another person’s house of all days, wearing a bloody dress! (pun may or may not have been intended)

“Um, can I use your toilet for a minute?”

He looks your way and nods. You panic a little bit when his eyes never leave yours, ensuing a staring contest between the both of you. A beat passes and he shrugs at you, returning his attention to his phone.

You don’t realize you’ve been holding in your breath when he door finally clicks behind you. Twirling in your dress, you search for any stain. There’s a small one, perhaps a few inches long, the red taint an obvious contrast against your yellow dress.

Grabbing a roll of tissue nearby, you place a few sheets under the water until it’s wet enough. Hastily, you rub it against the stain until the tissue tears into pieces. You repeat the process, jumping in victory when the stain starts discoloring. You even squeeze a dollop of liquid soap on your dress in the hopes of making the stain go away.

All your efforts prove to be in vain when the stain doesn’t lighten any further than the very visible brownish spot at the back of your dress.

Your hands are turning red from all the scrubbing and your chest is heaving with painful, ragged breaths that come forth. The tissue breaks apart for the nth time now and you try to grab more sheets but your eyes are already blurry, wet, fat tears coating your cheeks.

God, you’re so fucking stupid. How could you not have foreseen something that happens to you on a monthly basis?! All the tell-tale signs were there: abdominal pains, ache, sensitivity… you feel yourself sliding down the wall in embarrassment, an unwanted loud sob escaping your lips.

You hear footsteps padding along the wooden floor of Hoseok’s bedroom. No, please. “________?” You don’t answer. You don’t want to answer. Another sob escapes your lips. “_______, I’m coming in, okay?”

Hoseok instantly crouches down when he sees you sitting on the floor. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You still don’t answer; instead, you look away as you fiddle with your fingers. “You know you can tell me anything right?” He adjusts his legs, now fully seated on the floor. You both stay there in silence, before Hoseok pulls your head to rest on his shoulder, he can’t see your face like this, what could’ve possibly made you so upset, so he just holds you there, his other hand blindly reaching your face to wipe at your cheeks.

Figuring there’s no other way out of this, you gather up your courage. “I-I am on my period…” Your voice is small, yet it reaches Hoseok’s hearing perfectly clear. He still doesn’t get what’s possibly made you cry while on your period. Some girls tend to be more emotional than usual, perhaps, head tilted to the side as he recalls his lessons on human anatomy.

You can practically feel the clogs in Hoseok’s head so you give him a little more detail. “On my back, there’s…something. And I don’t have any extra clothes – gosh, this is beyond embarrassing. You must think I’m gross” Hoseok finally catches on, body stiff at the realization. It wasn’t like he was disgusted (because that would be totally immature) but it was more of lack of knowledge on how to approach situations like these.

He asks if it’s okay for him to call Tita so you can tell her what you need but not before reminding you that such natural process of life was nothing to be ashamed of. “Besides, better late than pregnant, right?” He scurries away afterwards, informing you that he’s going to be picking a nice outfit for you because you’re both going out to meet his mother for lunch at one of his favorite restaurants.

;

You both decide to sit on a nearby bench as you wait. There’s room for at least four people yet Hoseok decides to sit right beside you, your thighs touching, the proximity not lost on you. Surprisingly enough, you don’t feel any awkwardness lingering around, instead, you feel more secured with him beside you like this. Both basking in comfortable silence, save the buzz of the people walking around, Hoseok notices an elderly couple stand close by and he stands abruptly, offering the seat to them. The old lady gushes over him and praises how courteous the young man was. Hoseok stands by your side and looks around the area while the same lady closes the distance between you two. “He’s a keeper,” she whispers, sending a wink your way. Opening your mouth to clarify that you two are just friends, a loud ring from Hoseok’s pocket startles you.

“Hi mom! Yeah, we just arrived…she’s here beside me…what? Okay hang on…” He pulls the phone away from his ear as he presses on the speaker button on the screen. “You’re on speaker now, mom.”

“Oh, hi! _________, sweetie are you there?”

“Hello Mrs. Jung!”

“Great. Um, I’m really sorry about this darling but I really really need to finish this meeting. Hopefully it’ll end in less than an hour though, I hope you don’t mind. I really wanted to take you kids out to lunch today, but if you’re really hungry you can go ahead…I’ve already made reservations at Samwon under Hobi’s name…”

Your eyes widen at her proposal, head shaking vigorously to say no. Surely, it’d be rude to not wait for the person offering you a free meal right? “I really don’t mind waiting Mrs. Jung. Besides, we’ve had plenty of your lovely kimchi fried rice this morning so…”

“Ah, it’s really nothing love, well, at least, if you compare it to my brother’s restaurant. But anyways, I have to get back to the meeting now. How ‘bout I’ll have Hobi treat you to some ice cream or froyo or a something to snack on while you wait, alright?”

“You really don’t have to Mrs. Jung!” Your protests fall into deaf ears.

“Oh shush, darling. Don’t worry about it! And please, call me Auntie from now on, alright?”

“O-okay auntie.” You’re unable to control the slight tremble in your voice from the pet names she’s used and on making her call you auntie. You’re even surprised that she even apologized for not being able to make it on time. Hoseok ends the call soon afterwards. “Come on, I’ll treat you to my favorite frozen yogurt.”

There’s a sudden increase of mall-goers so Hoseok’s hand reaches out to grab yours, another wave of electricity shoots up your arm. Jesus. You’re pretty sure you’re old enough to not lose him in a crowd like this, so all this hand holding isn’t exactly necessary. Not that you were complaining though. You just hope, this time, you’re reading the signs right. The last time this happened, you ended up heartbroken and friendless, and you weren’t willing to go through the same pain again – not with Hoseok who’s genuinely nice and smart, and all the good things you can think of.

You cling onto his hand nonetheless, the crowd increasing because of lunch time. On the bright side, with your heartrate rapidly increasing, you get to miss out on cardio.

Arriving at a small outlet with ‘Sour Sally’ written on top of the shop, Hoseok pulls out a chair for you to sit on while he ponders on the menu plastered on the wall. What in god’s name have you done in your past life for him to torture your poor heart like this. You gaze at Hoseok, he seems unperturbed by his actions while you on the other hand… you internally applaud yourself for maintaining such calm demeanor but in reality, there’s a raging turmoil of emotions inside your head.

Following where his eyes are glued at on the wall, you try to distract yourself from the dangers of a brooding crush. God, you can’t possibly like like him because he opened the door for you, or pull out a chair for you, right? Were you really this…deprived? Just thinking about it gives you a headache. But then again, Hoseok is everything every woman could ever ask for. He’s polite, funny, courteous, smart, and he absolutely adores his family. Admittedly, he’s fucking wealthy too on top of all that but you don’t stick around him because of his money. Then again, it’s the 21st century and life isn’t getting any easier. In case you have a family in the future, it would be nice to know you’re children will be secured for quite some time. Wait, why are you thinking about families in the first place??

You barely notice Hoseok waving a hand in front of you. “Hello? Earth to ______?” he chuckles, his brackets shining under the lighting. “Oh yeah sorry!” you squeak. “You’ve been spacing out since morning, you sure you’re okay?” He bends forward a little, your faces merely inches away from each other. “You know you can talk to me right?” Searching for any doubt in your eyes, he tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

Fucking hell.

Does he even realize what he’s doing to you?! Your cheeks are practically on fire right now. You’re falling way too deep at an alarming pace. “You know you can talk to me right?” His words echo in your presently empty brain now, unable to think about anything rational. How are you supposed to talk to him when it’s him you want to talk about?

“Do you want anything from the menu? I’d personally recommend my own usual, but I’m really not sure about your froyo preferences…”

“Um don’t they have anything smaller than these?” you ask, pointing to the cups display for size references. “Nope, none really. I guess we can share if you don’t mind, I’ll just get one of the bigger sizes…”

“Good enough for me.”

“You have any particular flavor or topping in mind?”

“I really haven’t been to this place. So I guess I’ll have what you have.” You reach for your purse, grabbing cash amounting to half of the frozen yogurt. “What are you doing?” Hoseok points to the bills you’re holding. “Um, paying for my half?” The boy in front of you shakes his head in refusal, pushing the money towards you.

“It’s on me, _______. No more arguments. Consider this a da-“ Hoseok chokes on his own saliva purposefully, unableto finish his sentence. “A-a day in your cycle right? Don’t girls usually eat ice cream when its that time of the month? I mean this isn’t exactly ice cream, but it’s still frozen right? Ha ha ha. Okay, I’ll just place an order now.” He turns around abruptly, feet quickly moving towards the counter.

Rendered speechless, you just nod in reply. Seconds after he left, you’re still nodding thinking about what just transpired moments ago. He couldn’t have meant it as a date, did he? He did point out about Aunt Flo making a visit today. Perhaps, he meant dare? Who knows if he had been dared to treat someone out? You know you’re blindly grasping at straws here so you just try to divert your attention, and of course, you fail miserably at that as well.

Hoseok takes his wallet from his back pocket and hands a black card to the register. With a few nods, the staff swipes the card through the payment terminal and hands it back to Hoseok. ‘Sugar daddy Hoseok. What a fucking sight.’ Your shoulder devil whispers, drawling out every syllable like her final words. She has your shoulder angel in a headlock, arms flapping around attempting to remove the vice-like grip on her neck.

Thankfully, you manage to get ahold of yourself before Hoseok returns with a large cup with two spoons on either side. “This is the best froyo ever!!” He exclaims, buzzing with excitement. You oblige when he tells you to take the first scoop. You’ve only had the dessert once before this and after that incident, you were totally unwilling to have it for a second time. The first froyo you had was so bad which pretty much clouded over any positive review the dessert had.

Surprisingly enough, Sour Sally’s wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Sure, it looked unappealing at first with the amount of toppings Hoseok included but you reckon it wasn’t so bad after all, plus it looked like a healthier option than ice cream. Hoseok chuckles at your sudden interest and takes his phone out, pretending to respond to someone’s message but he quickly presses on the camera button, snapping a photo of you enjoying the frozen dessert.

He smiles when he goes over the photo, saving it as his home wallpaper.

;

Once you finish the final scoop of the yogurt, Hoseok asks if you can both visit a store he’s been meaning to drop by. There’s really nothing else you wanted to do anyways so you say ‘yes’, resulting to Hoseok excitedly clapping as you exit Sour Sally’s.

You both walk towards the opposite end of the mall, the area prominently less crowded than where you came from. You don’t wonder why. You just passed by Gucci, Versace, and Louis Vuitton on your way and now you’re greeted by Hermes, Alexander McQueen, and Balenciaga when you rounded the corner. You’re not even surprised at this point. In fact, when he told you that he wanted to shop for new shoes, you had already expected this was where you were heading when he made you wear a full Chanel two-piece ensemble that his sister “barely” wears.

Hoseok makes a beeline to Balenciaga. Of course - the boy was basically its brand ambassador. When you enter, some of the staff greet him by his name. “Mr. Hoseok, welcome back!” They astonishingly greet you with the same level of enthusiasm with Hoseok. You figure it’s probably courtesy of Hoseok’s fashion choices. He tells you to look around while he approaches someone who looks like the store manager.

The manager and Hoseok already seem to share the same brainwave and without talking, the former leads to Hoseok to a corner where the sneakers are displayed. Realizing you were probably looked awkward, standing stiffly by a display, you let your feet move you around, stopping to look at a few hung clothes.

While carding through the clothes, you discreetly check the price tags, your stomach dropping every time. 1,500 dollars for a bloody jacket?! They had gold sewn into the denim perhaps? Or diamond - encrusted collars? A girl’s voice startles you from your supposedly ‘discreet’ inspection. “Can I help you with anything, miss?”

“Oh, I’m just looking. It’s my friend who’s doing the shopping.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, I’m not sure if I should be doing this, but you seem so nice and approachable compared to the other girls that usually visit our shop… I really like your outfit and I think you and Mr. Hoseok look really cute together,” she squeaks before walking away to tidy a few displays. When she meets your eyes again, you send her a small smile and you see a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

You hear Hoseok call you over, colossal shoes occupying both his hands. “Which colorway should I pick?” You do a double take at the pairs he’s holding up. They honestly looked like a stack of pancakes that toppled over. Undoubtedly, they definitely looked striking, like a rebellious fashion statement. He holds up his left hands, clutching onto a brown pair with shades of blue and red and his other hand holding another with hues of green and white.

Choosing the one on his left hand, Hoseok nods in agreement mumbling something about how great minds think alike. He tells the manager to get him one in his size. The manager complies and, in the meantime, Hoseok brings you to a display near the one you were checking out earlier. He asks you to help him pick out an outfit to go with the shoes. It doesn’t take much for Hoseok to decide on choosing the clothes. You tell him your honest opinion that he would literally look good in anything, resulting in a rosy-cheeked Hoseok heading to the register to check out his items.

Soon after Hoseok collects his purchases, his phone dings, so he puts down the three bags before fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Mom says she’ll be there in five. Shall we?”

Three floors and a long walk back to another of the mall’s annexes later, you finally arrive at Samwon Garden. “Hi. We have a reservation under Hoseok Jung.” The maître d goes over the list, brows soon furrowing in confusion. “I’m really sorry Sir, but the table reserved for you had been given to another customer an hour ago. We only allow an extra of fifteen minutes when your name gets called. If you’d like, I can write your name on the list again, but that would probably take another thirty minutes before you get seated.”

“Oh, really? I guess…”

“Mr. Hoseok!” A man in a suit approaches you with hurried steps. “Mr. Hoseok,” he repeats with a breathy laugh. “I truly apologize for that. Please come with me, your private room is ready.” The man lets you take a few steps forward as he momentarily stays with the maître d. “That’s not how you treat the nephew of the owner of this restaurant, unless you want to lose your job today.” He whispers harshly, and your eyes widen. You’re unsure if Hoseok heard that but he seems too preoccupied with the other staff that welcome him to the restaurant.

The manager rushes forward after scolding the maître d. He offers to carry Hoseok’s shopping bags and leads you two to a secluded area. “Your food is already being prepared Sir,” he bows, setting the bags down and pulling out the chairs. “Is there anything I can get you miss?”

“A glass of water would be nice, please.” “Of course, Ma’am. Would you please excuse me.”

Hoseok’s mother arrive a few minutes later. Once again, she apologizes for making you wait. The three of you don’t waste any more time, going straight to eating. “I love your outfit, dearie,” Mrs. Jung compliments, flipping the searing meat on the grill. “Um Hobi actually made me wear this.” Confused, she looks at her son for an explanation. “She uhh…Her um…she had to change, lady problems…” Her mouth forms an ‘o’ in realization, thankfully picking up quickly. “Are you okay sweetheart? Do you take painkillers? They have great ice cream here; I’ll have it served for dessert later.”

She bombards you with questions that you don’t get the chance to answer all of them. You assure her though that you’re fine, that Hoseok has helped you plenty earlier this morning. She beams at her son, even teasing him that he’ll be the best boyfriend any girl could ever wish for. Hoseok turns crimson at his mom’s teasing, stealing the slice of meat she’s been cooking as revenge.

The three of you continue eating and sharing stories like that for almost an hour. For the most part, she’s mainly told you of Hoseok’s most embarrassing moments, sharing at least ten years’ worth of blackmail content. Hoseok, who’s sat beside you the whole time continues to crumble in his seat with every story. Your stomach was aching so much, both from laughing and eating. After the ice cream dessert Mrs. Jung promised you, she calls for the bill. Trying to stop your eyes from bulging out of their sockets, you look away from the receipt – 400 dollars staring back at you in big, bold numbers on the narrow sheet of paper. You wanted to cry.

Mrs. Jung says she doesn’t intend to stay any longer for she has another meeting to attend to today so she leaves you both with a kiss on the cheek and a reminder to drive back home safely. “Shit, I think I ate too much!” Hoseok sighs, rubbing at his tummy and letting out a loud burp in the process. Both of you stare at each other for a second before bursting into peals of laughter.

Yours seem to die down far longer than Hoseok’s and he takes the time to truly take youin today. He was nervous for the most part, that he had to admit. He tossed and turned in his bed last night, seemingly unable to sleep when the thought of you coming over has preoccupied his mind. He’s even tried drinking two glasses of warm milk, read a chapter from his history book, and in complete desperation, he’s even counted sheep, literally. It doesn’t help either that he woke up incredibly early today, only acquiring three hours of sleep the previous night.

He’s cleaned his room when he came home from practice yesterday and he’s cleaned it again this morning, not that his room needed cleaning anyways. He also asked his mom if she could help him cook breakfast this morning to which she happily agreed. So, the whole ‘homesick’ thing was only half a lie. Well, it was because she was homesick that she made way too much, but the idea was initially Hoseok’s.

He wasn’t supposed to drag you to breakfast that morning but the treacherous grumble of your stomach told him you were still hungry so he held your hand and showed you around the kitchen, asking you what kind of breakfast you’d prefer. Hoseok particularly enjoyed having your hand in his and he knew he was talking too much earlier that day but he had to divert his attention to prevent his hand from trembling.

When he heard you sniffle in the toilet earlier, he panicked; worried that something might have happened to you out of the blue. You wouldn’t take your eyes off the floor from embarrassment and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around yours. It wrenched his heart to see you sob like that, so he just kept you close until you finally told him your dilemma.  

He totally understood that it was a natural occurrence for girls and even reassured you that it was totally nothing to be embarrassed about. He didn’t ask you for any word after that, immediately sending one of their house helpers to help you out. He didn’t have the guts to go through his sister’s toiletries so he left that dilemma with someone who could handle the situation better aka Tita. He did pick out an outfit for you to wear though, going through endless hangers of Dawon’s clothes.

Picking something comfortable and warm, he pulls out this Chanel turquoise wool tweed two-piece and a white top to go under the blazer. ‘This’ll probably look cute on her,’ he thinks, carrying the set to Dawon’s beloved vanity mirror and spraying an adequate amount of her Estee Lauder perfume all over the clothes. When he grabbed the ensemble, he was thinking something along the lines of a fluffy-cute-girlfriend style going on but when you came out of the bathroom, he found it impossible to take his eyes off you.

Turns out, the white top he gave you was a crop top, the garment exposing a little bit of your midriff. And those shorts! Jesus! He’d taken a mental note to spoil you with Chanel if…when you become his. He’s already seen you in shorts during practice before but he really didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty of it all. Your skin contrasts beautifully against the bluish-green wool, and it’s hem is enough to display your toned thighs and calves in all its glory. Years of tennis had definitely done you well.

He turns away, internally scolding himself for his behavior. He feels sick for having perved on you like that, pushing away all the indecent thoughts before they consume him whole.

His heart was soaring the whole time you sat next to him inside the car, the whole scene making him giddy. You were quiet at first, Hoseok being able to steal glances during red lights. Moments later, when Celine Dion came in the radio you were belting out the lyrics to “My Heart Will Go On” with notes he’s never heard before. The boy even pulled over just to capture this iconic moment with his phone, not long before you goad him to join you as you both scream like lunatics inside the vehicle. His voice teacher will be disappointed, surely, but it all worth it just to see you this happy.

Hoseok knew he was falling in deep. Being with you just felt…right. Even with you doing the most mundane of tasks, he found you incredibly endearing. It was driving him close to madness. He wanted to ask you to be his, to make him the happiest guy on earth, for the rest of his life. Most times it felt like he was crazy for thinking about this while you both still had a life ahead of you - that it was too serious to think about for a teenager, but then he ponders on his cousin’s wise words. “What’s the point of being in a relationship if it’s not going to end in a wedding?”

“What are you thinking about Hobi?” you question, putting him out of his thoughts.

It was your turn to ask him this time as you can’t tell why been staring at you for the past minute. “Nothing,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “Ah! Which reminds me, wanna check out the new laser tag place they opened last week?” You’re unsure about this, after having eaten like a starved caveman, but with Hobi looking at you with a pout, you can’t say no.

“Come on,” you give in. “We gotta burn everything we ate for lunch!”

[fandom-necromancer]

Let’s write together: Heart Reset

Chapter 1 - Substitute Detectives

Featuring:

@aurea-b with “Don’t tell me you watched me sleep all night.” @thetruefor3stspirit with “Not gonna lie... I’d die for these soft tiddies.” @rufina72 and Spirit with “Gavin’s cat” & “Reed900 cats” A baguette with “Ralph” @sparklingrainbowdragon with “Ralph/Jerrys” An anon with “Connor/Chloe” (more of them in chapter 3) an anon with “Gavin accidentally puts salt into his coffee. Drinks full cup without flinching” an anon with “Maybe an old friend/ ex from Gavin or Nines appears and causes drama™️” (more of him throughout the story)

Thank you all  so much for participating!

[Chapter 2]

-

Gavin was awoken far too early by his alarm clock. He pulled a grimace and groaned: ‘Phhhck.’ Without looking he tried to slap the damn thing off, only succeeding in weakly flopping his arm on his bedside table, annoying the cat sleeping on his chest. Still, the alarm stopped right then. ‘I love to watch your praised Detective brain work’, came the chuckled comment to that from his side. ‘Hey, tin-can, if you can hack my clock, why don’t you wake me up instead?’ ‘Oh, that’s an easy one. I love the way you scrunch up your face being all grumpy.’ ‘Hmm, yeah, I know I’m pretty.’ Gavin smiled sleepily, still not wanting to open his eyes. ‘You do that a few times in your sleep too. It’s cute.’ ‘Hmm, yeah, I’m phcking cute- wait what?’ That made him sit up and actually look at the android next to him. The cat, finally irritated enough, ran off towards the kitchen ‘Don’t tell me you watched me sleep all night.’ ‘Am I not allowed to admire my perfect human?’, Nines asked faking his hurt. ‘Nah, you are allowed to. Just don’t be creepy.’ ‘Oh yes? Well, if I may remind you of the time I was in stasis and you woke me up hugging me and telling me-‘ ‘No, I don’t want to hear it!’, Gavin laughed, covering his face in embarrassment. But Nines knew no mercy. ‘Telling me, and I quote: Not gonna lie... I’d die for these soft tiddies ?’ ‘I was super drunk this evening coming home from the bar with Tina, okay? Alcohol does these things to you.’ Nines just shrugged and got up. ‘Come on, we have to go to work.’ ‘Don’t remind me…’ ‘I’ll make you something to eat.’ ‘Thanks.’

They got to work perfectly punctual, as always. Ever since Nines took over their schedule, they wouldn’t be a minute late unless something happened. He had argued with Gavin so many times, he was tired of it by now and just complied. The toaster had good intentions after all, and Gavin knew he just liked to complain. The downside of this was that people knew when they would arrive and especially those earlier than them seemed to love bothering them when they just got there. One of these people was Connor.

Gavin had just put his jacket over the back of his chair while Nines downloaded the latest progress, when he practically felt the RK800’s eyes fall on him. ‘I’m off to the breakroom, puppy is coming and I need my coffee before that.’ Nines looked up and saw Connor stand up. ‘I’m coming with you.’ They escaped the android for approximately one more minute by this manoeuvre. Gavin had started filling the machine with water and waited for it to cook, while Nines watched him. ‘Ah, good to see you! Good morning to you two! I actually searched for you.’ ‘You mean you waited for us to arrive and the moment we were at our desks you struck?’, Nines corrected him, making Gavin smile to himself. ‘Maybe? Anyways, I need your help. So, me and Hank got this case and…’ Gavin sighed as Connor rambled on, pushing the button of the machine that made it spit out his life elixir, only half-heartedly listening. It was still too early in the morning for such talks. ‘and we have reviewed all evidence, we know nearly everything already, we only need to arrest him when we have enough evidence. And both of that will be possible a days from now, at the theme park just outside Detroit. I planned talking to some contacts at New Jericho who worked there, then plan a trap, but…’ ‘But?’ ‘Well, me and Chloe have our anniversary on that day and… Well I promised her to be there. Why did Browns have to choose that night for it?’

That made both Gavin and Nines give him his full attention, as they both asked simultaneously: ‘You are with Chloe?’ ‘Browns? Jayden Browns?’ Connor looked at them a bit surprised. He answered Nines first: ‘Well yeah, we met at Kamski’s villa before the revolution but after that a few times more and it just worked.’ ‘Honestly I thought you would tend more to Hank…’ ‘Wha- No! I see him more of a dad, I think. And yes, Gavin his first name is Jayden, how did you know?’ ‘Oh, nothing’, he brushed it off, taking his cup and taking a sip just to nearly spit it out. His eyes darted to the two shakers. Were they… Yes. Who the hell had switched sugar and salt around? But damn it, Connor was here, looking at him. And Gavin would never admit and error to the android and pointedly drunk the whole cup without flinching. ‘Old friend of mine’, he choked out. ‘Really? Well, that’s even better then! Because I really need you to take this case over for me.’ ‘What?’, Nines asked. ‘Why?’ ‘My date with Chloe? Also, you are way better suited with Gavin knowing our suspect! Come on, I’ll owe you one. Please?’ Nines looked over to Gavin, who nodded. ‘Fine, we’ll help you out. But just so you know, we’ll take all the credit, too.’ ‘Yes! Thank you so much! I’ll transfer all data we have so far to you!’

And with that he was off, leaving both of them standing in the breakroom. ‘Why did you accept?’, Nines asked. ‘We don’t have an active case at the moment. Also, Connor owing us? Can’t let that chance pass.’ ‘Quick thinking. Did you know you poured salt in your coffee?’ ‘I know.’ ‘Did you know Connor saw it too and chugging it did nothing to mask the error as we are not human?’ ‘I know!’ ‘I admire your stubbornness.’ ‘I know. Come on, let’s go read up on our new case.’

-

New Jericho, the apartment complex given to Markus after the revolution, wasn’t that far from the precinct. The drive there still felt overly long with the lingering silence neither of them knew how to break. It was Nines in the end, who prodded: ‘Who is the suspect, your “old friend”, really? You know him well.’ Gavin ducked his head. ‘Urgh, he’s an ex of mine. Don’t ask. I had a bullshit taste before you came along. Just… I mean I knew he could easily turn to illegal stuff, but mostly with androids and I didn’t care about your kind back then and-‘ ‘It’s okay.’ ‘It really isn’t, I should have turned him in earlier, even if it was just for property damage. But I was more focussed on getting away from him I guess.’ Nines could tell his human was uncomfortable talking about it. ‘He really wasn’t a good pick when even I realised it back then…’ ‘Well, you get your chance to arrest him now’, Nines said, trying to be comforting. ‘Yeah, right. Still can’t believe the idiot made it that far.’

It was impressive really. Jayden had been many things, but not intelligent. According to Connor’s research though, he had gotten his hands on data that could threaten all of androidkind. They didn’t know what it was exactly yet, but every goon they had managed to catch and interrogate had made a point in bragging about what was coming. Apparently, it would change the world as they knew it. Knowing the man, Gavin was sure though that that was an exaggeration. Maybe Jayden was convinced of it, but if he got his hands on it it couldn’t be that much of a danger. Whatever it would turn out to be though, Jayden was trying to sell it to the highest bidder and from what Connor had found out, the sum that was offered could make a man rich easily. The data would be handed over at exactly seven pm in tomorrow over at ArcaneWorld, a closed amusement park. The website stated it was closed for renovations, but Nines had found out the site hadn’t been updated in three years and the park had lost all investors. The owner had vanished mysteriously, likely because of the amount of debt the park had collected. But that would be a case for another time, now they needed to find out where exactly their suspects would meet on the roughly twenty-thousand square metre big areal.

‘You know, on a completely other point, I have never been to New Jericho. Do they even accept humans?’ It was meant as a joke, but Nines answered seriously. ‘There are certain areas you won’t be allowed in, yes. Although the majority is, not all androids have deviated yet. Some will never need to, being given freedom simply by prohibiting people from ordering them around. Those that do naturally without being converted mostly break their chains by trauma. Most connected to humans. You understand you won’t be let in there?’ Gavin laughed nervously. ‘Yeah, I understand that alright. Damn it, with the amount of hate-crime receding to the, well, to the normal levels, I thought that wouldn’t be that much of a problem anymore.’ ‘It got better the last years’, the android answered. ‘I think nowadays it’s just one floor that’s prohibited for humans. When I was awoken, there was only one floor humans were allowed to enter.’ ‘Shit…’, Gavin hissed, looking up towards their destination. The building could already be seen, although it would take a few more minutes to get there. ‘Our contacts, are they-‘ ‘No. One of them spent a lot of time away from humans, but he got better with time. I actually met him in my time there. The others never had a scarring experience with your kind, although maybe that’s also due to their programming. They are designed to be patient, easily forgiving and caring. No matter how drastic deviancy can change us, a few traits stay.’ ‘They?’, Gavin asked. ‘Just one person or how many are we speaking with?’ ‘Two persons’, Nines answered and smiled. ‘Roughly a hundred units. No one really knows how many there are.’ ‘Excuse me?’ ‘They share a hivemind. It was an interesting thought of Cyberlife as that made sharing information in a theme park much easier.’ ‘You androids are weird.’ ‘Says the human that is partially controlled by his intestine’s flora.’ ‘Yeah okay, point taken.’

They parked the car and went inside. Nines connected to the apartment buildings android network and announced themselves to the other androids. Nearly instantly he got an invitation back he translated for Gavin. ‘They are waiting for us in the gardens. They ask if you need anything.’ A bit phased, the human shook his head. ‘No, I’m good, thanks. Kind of forgot you can simply do that…’ ‘Believe me, it feels strange even to me. I prefer talking, too.’ They moved through the hallways towards the back exit and Gavin was surprised to see how many androids there were. It was normal to see them on the streets now, but without any humans around it still felt weird to him. Some of them didn’t wear their skin, all of them were openly interfacing on a regular basis. Still throughout it all, they acknowledged Gavin’s presence, some even waved or threw him a polite smile before going on with their day. It was so different to what Gavin had experienced with the human-only neighbourhoods that had formed after the revolution and androids had needed police protection entering. Gavin remembered the people living there just too well and how they reacted to Nines as the only android with them.

He honestly had thought of this to be similar for him.

Nines opened the door for him to step into a huge atrium mostly filled by a huge park-like area. ‘Over here’, Nines said, leading Gavin to where and android sat, plucking weeds. As they approached, he stood up, clasping his hands. His face was heavily damaged, Gavin could see that even from a distance. But the other android’s eyes were fixed on Nines, before he awkwardly waddled over. ‘RK900! RK900 is here, Ralph is happy to see you!’ Gavin watched his partner as the damaged android ran at him just to hug him. ‘I’m happy to see you too! Although my name is Nines now.’ ‘You got a name now? That’s good! Ralph likes it, it is a good name.’ ‘My friend here gave it to me’, Nines chuckled and laid an arm on Gavin’s shoulder. ‘Oh, you found a human? The one from the file you told me about?’ Nines blushed a little, refusing to make eye contact. ‘Yes. It all worked out.’ Ralph held out a hand for Gavin to shake. ‘Hello, friend! Ralph knows Nines from when he first got here. We are good friends.’ ‘I’m Gavin’, he introduced himself, not quite sure what to make of the android. Nines had never mentioned him after all. ‘I’m also a… good friend of him, we met at the DPD.’ ‘Oh! Ralph knows! You came hear to ask questions about the case, yes, Connor told me! But Ralph doesn’t know much, he just met Jerry there. Jerry can tell more; Ralph will call him!’

He did not call him loudly, but immediately five androids perked up, all looking exactly the same. They looked at Ralph, then each other, before three of them dropped their tools and came over. One went over to Ralph to hug him, while the other two looked curiously at Nines and Gavin. ‘Hello! Our name is Jerry. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Connor said you needed help?’ Gavin nodded in the general direction, not quite sure which unit to address. But Nines turned to the one who had just spoken, so Gavin followed his example.

‘Do you know the theme park ArcaneWorld?’, Nines asked. ‘Connor told me you would be the best to ask this.’ The unit in front of him nodded. ‘Yes, we were property of the previous park. Pirate’s cove was abandoned but gained the attention after we were found after the revolution. We were happy to leave the place, but we keep it in good memory. We liked working there and making people happy.’ ‘I’m sorry, but how are you an expert on ArcaneWorld when you worked in the previous park?’, Gavin asked. ‘We used the unique android network there. It helped us keep ourselves and not be lonely, much like the one installed here. But we have never been disconnected. And the person who bought Pirate’s cove after the revolution demolished buildings and attractions but kept the network to run the new park. We received regular updates until it closed again, including a detailed blueprint of the entire park and surveillance. Just a moment, please.’ Multiple other Jerrys approached them, pushing their hands together. Gavin had seen the holographic screen Nines and Connor could produce, but never something like this. Every individual screen connected, forming a map of ArcaneWorld. ‘There. What do you need to know?’ ‘We have to intercept a criminal selling off valuable data. We know it happens at seven, but not where in the park.’ A few of the Jerrys nodded in unison. ‘Well, the park is partly still functioning. The whole area here…’ a huge part of the map was marked. ‘This whole area isn’t safe. A huge ride there had been closed due to safety reasons and had to be renovated. That never happened, so now the ride has long collapsed. The old area of Pirate’s cove is still functioning, as well as the main attraction of the new park, a large area of medieval themed rides. Maybe that narrows it down a bit. Oh, and another thing, the surveillance cameras in a large part of the medieval area were shut down lately. May only be a coincidence, but when there are still some working in the collapsed ride, we don’t think this simply happened because of decay. We would search there.’

‘Sounds good to me’, Gavin shrugged. ‘As good a place as any to start.’ Nines nodded. ‘Thank you, Jerry, you helped us a lot. Do keep an eye on the park though and call us if you see anything.’ ‘Of course. Best of luck!’

Nines and Gavin left New Jericho shortly after that. Nines had stayed a bit longer to download the map from Jerry and gain access to the network, but soon they had taken their leave. ‘An old friend, huh?’, Gavin smirked as they walked towards the car. ‘Anything I need to know?’ ‘They really are just friends I made, unlike our suspect’, Nines shot back though. ‘Ralph had been with Jerry from the start.’ ‘Err.. what? How is that even… nevermind, I don’t wanna know.’ Nines looked at him, clearly disappointed. ‘Gavin, please, don’t try to judge them with human terms. I keep one of my processor cores reserved just for you, always. Jerry does the same, but with interchangeable units. It’s not that difficult to understand.’ ‘I said I didn’t want to know that, Nines. If it works for them, fine with me.’ ‘Good. That being settled, let’s get back and find out everything about this park.’

[>next Chapter]

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Paintings

Sergey sank upside down in the murky pool water his deep voice singing.

Oh, my river. My fast-flowing stream. 

 Oh, my river. My fast-flowing one 

He tucked his hands behind his head, his legs propelling him down into the deep water.

 You flow small stream. You do not diverge

 On your high steep bank, You do not surge

 On your high steep bank, You do not surge 

Your sand is yellow  You will not submerge  

Oh, my river. My fast-flowing stream. 

 Oh, my river. My fast-flowing one 

He settled down, he claws extending into the muck. Rather than walk normally as he did two weeks ago, he used those sharp projections only, tiptoeing his way towards a door he knew was there, counting the steps until he arrived and walking in, humming all the way.

At this point, he had exactly memorized the route, which was one of the points of the training. Since he couldn’t see anything, he would have to rely on instruments and his other senses.

After that first day of training he had arrived in the dorm so exhausted he couldn’t eat. He’d always thought of himself as a strong person, but even life in Siberia couldn’t prepare him for the exertion dragonslaying required.

He was no longer fascinated by the writings on the way or the gears in the structure. Now he was learning how to find new routes in the maze of walls and doors. He felt a pull of a current to his left, indicating that something had opened up. He pulled out a flask of green liquid to confirm, and, sure enough, the ink streamed in that direction.

He shined his light there and swam towards it. A door frame led to an expansive corridor, lined with statues of men with serpent heads. He swam through, still leisurely humming to himself. At the end of the corridor was an altar flanked by two metal statues holding swords. 

The altar was actually a contraption designed to shift the walls and open up new spaces. He would have to open up the inner chamber of the dragon palace in three tries or less.

He’d practiced the riddle above ground on computers first, and now he had to practice it underwater on a metal facsimile of the device. It was a sliding lock puzzle designed to collapse with a single error. He had to unlock the puzzle in his mind first, before his hand made a move.

There was a time limit but his oxygen was good.

Once he was certain of the solution, he started to move the pieces around. He hesitated with his hand only once and then solved it.

The door in front of him opened and the simulation continued into a blank room.

Unfortunately, much of their knowledge of the dragon palace was incomplete. Little could be recovered from the expedition team. The training was just a series of potential tasks he would have to complete there.

One was setting a powerful bomb in the central room. He set down the dummy bomb and opened the panel. He secured it to the wall and pressed a red button, holding it down for ten seconds until a red light came on.

He darted away, fast as a fur seal, towards the exit.

Sometimes he stopped to wonder, why he was doing all this. After all, he didn’t have to. He could go back to class and sit and listen to lectures.

He came the conclusion that he was simply a hunting dog by birth. The hound could sit on your lap, chase the ball in the park, wrestle with toys. And yet, the hunting dog would be happier splashing through the swamp muck on the scent of a rabbit, circling and circling, until he ran his quarry to ground and then bay until his master came with the gun.

Even if he was in the cottage, well-fed and never facing a dangerous snake or a bear, he would close his eyes and dream, his legs kicking by the fire side.

This simulation was like a hound’s dream.

He popped out of the water, looking at the time on his screen. “Ah! A new record...”

“Yes, you passed the puzzle in a faster time by three seconds.” EVA confirmed.

Evelyn would not be coming with him down in the water. She and the rest of the crew was assigned to Caesar on an entirely separate set of tasks. Once the bomb was set, it would stir the massive beast within. It was Caesar’s duty to come with the gun.

The “Gun” was a massive missile designed to be a sword that could cut the beast in half. Evelyn was serving as the ship’s crew, her training was completely different.

He sat, pulling off his fins, a towel on his head. She peered around the corner, waving at him, holding a bag of baked sweets.  He removed his gloves. “Good job!” She said, in Russian, giving him a thumbs up.

He smiled back at her, but his heart felt uneasy. This mission was dangerous, he could die. He didn’t mean to bait her into a dance, win her heart, and then go diving into the dark corners of the world and face monsters. He could die. If he did, she’d be heart broken.

He knew that feeling.

He just couldn’t turn away those bright green eyes and that innocent smile, accompanied by terrible Russian. So he kept accepting the cookies.

She was no Katarina. She was shier, more nervous around him. But perhaps that was more because of his façade of mighty hero than anything else. Katarina knew who he really was: A Siberian nerd who took on tough tasks because he either had to for the good of the orphanage or was trying to please a man who cared nothing for him.

Evelyn’s hand waved in front of his face to get his attention.

He laughed in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry. Thank you for cookies...”

How could he possibly explain that only a few weeks ago he was an entirely different person? How could he possibly explain that he still dreamed he was back at the orphanage, his true home. Yes when he closed his eyes at night, his brain forgot to dream about Cassell College and surrounded him with what was automatic and familiar.

Then he would wake up and have to remember that everything was gone and everyone was dead. And he still had to get up and do this.

She didn’t understand any of it, but instead, weathered his bouts of moodiness with good humor. “I want... to invite you... to my house!”

He blinked. Her house?

Her cheeks turned pink.

His eyes shifted away. “Okay.”

Her house was a dorm like everyone else. She also had a roommate, a woman with long dark hair, heavy dark eyeshadow and maroon lipstick against pale skin. “Yo!” He raised his hand.

She smiled and imitated his hand raise. “Yo. Name’s Liz.”

“Sergey.”

“Cool.” She looked at him and grinned. “I can see why you like her. Gotta admire a woman that can reach the top shelf by herself.”

Evelyn moved to the kitchen and reached into the oven and pulled out a golden brown roast chicken.

As he scanned her living room, the easel caught his eye. The room was decorated with dozens of colorful canvasses depicting scenes around Cassell College. Her style was simple and conservative. A few lines would depict water, a few more would show reeds. A stair step pattern conveyed the idea of brick and mortar. A few strokes of a coarse hair paint brush and white paint became a beard.

One might make the mistake of thinking this sort of painting was childish. But in truth it was the work of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. The style reminded him a lot of Pirosmani, the famous Georgian painter. The only difference was Pirosmani painted on black oil cloth.

Evelyn appeared next to him and offered him some black coffee.

His eyebrows raised and he accepted it, he raised his phone to his face. “EVA how do you say? How long have you been painting?”

“Probably about 10 years.”

“You’re very talented.” He held the phone to her for EVA’s translation.

She shook her head. “No, these are just...”

“How much for this one?”

“What?” Her eyes widened. 

“How much?” He looked at her directly.

“I don’t know... I don’t sell any of it.”

Her roommate, sitting at the table and on her phone. “I tell her to sell it and she doesn’t listen!”

“I’ll give you ah... 150$ okay?”

“No... I can’t...” She held up her hands.

“$200.”

“Sergey this...”

“Every time I refuse, the price go up.” He said, using the wrong pronoun.

Her eyes lowered a moment and then she looked up at him. “Okay... 200.”

“Sold!” He beamed taking the painting from the wall.

He returned to his own dorm that evening, proudly displaying  his purchase. “Look!”

Zihang looked at him a moment and then gave him a thumbs up.

[evwuniverse]

Ellie’s Opinion on Today’s Mystery Packages (Summer Bands) on IMVU

If you have been on the browser version of IMVU today specifically on the classic website you probably ran into all of the marketing regarding their limited time Mystery Room Packages. If you haven’t feel free to check it out because let me tell you one thing IMVU does exceptionally well is market their products for their virtual world platform. You’ll probably see the banner that looks like this;

and switches to this;

When you click this banner it leads you to a page that looks like this;

Enticing isn’t it? well it was to me. I love the Mystery Packages and when I can I buy them often so I can review my experience with them and show you what you could get by participating. Basically its like a gacha (a japanese gumball machine chance item) these are popular in Second Life and the mobile application called Line chat if you’ve ever used it. Everything you get is given by chance. Don’t let the only $15 fool you though your basically paying $1 for each thousand credits which let’s be honest isn’t that bad. But you’re hoping for the mystery of getting a new room you probably wouldn’t expect yourself buying that you can USE. Well my exeperience this time around was both a negative and positive and let me tell you why. When I bought my first bundle I’ll be honest I was a little disappointed. Why? because I ended up with a nursey. Now for someone who participates in family RolePlay on IMVU this is a great thing to obtain. However, if you’re anything like me and you’re just the life of the party and enjoy chatting with others. You don’t really have a need for a room like this. I am still a little salty about it because yes I was disappointed to begin with. And this is where humanity is flawed. You shouldn’t be disappointed in what you recieve but grateful for everything you currently own and the new things you obtain. I was a little upset for a good 10 minutes but as a virtual world interior designer in both IMVU and Second Life I thought about it and I could possibly make the room work for my type of decor style so I can use it in the future. But because of my disappointment I ended up making an impulse buy and buying another Mystery Room for $15 I wanted to see if I would be upset with the options with a second go. I wasn’t disappointed. The way I see things everything happens for a reason even if the reason can’t be explained. The fact you get credits with these packages are helpful because even if the room isn’t something you love you can spend the credits on something you do. You also get to keep each individual piece of furniture that you can use to decorate other rooms you buy if you buy any. There’s always a positive to every negative.

First Mystery Package Revealed:

So this is going to be somewhat of a rant from my disappointment earlier. I didn’t want to change anything I typed before when I was on a roll with my ranting spree because I want to show RAW emotion. The truth of how humanity acts towards certain situations when disappointed or upset. Hopefully if you take away anything from this post it’s that we’re all sensitive to emotions and haunted by our own anger and disappointment in life. When we all should really be grateful for the things we have and the things we obtain no matter what it is. 

Technically I bought two for myself thinking it was just a dud try with my first luck of the draw ending up with a nursery. I mean don’t get me wrong for a family Roleplayer on IMVU that would be perfect. But what am I supposed to do with that? I don’t family RolePlay on IMVU I just could never get into it but am rather active with it in Second Life. Overall, it’s okay but it’s also a boys room... I’d rather it at least be gender neutral for a nursery so if I ever wanted to try my hand at it I could go the boy or girl route. No it’s just for boys. Okay that’s fine but this room will probably get zero use out of it for me. It was actually a bit disappointing for me. I guess the 15,000 credits in a sense make up for it though. But still I’d at least want to be provided a room that I could use at some point during my adventures in this virtual world platform. Sometimes I feel with these mystery packages there should either be a one time retry button for something you could use. Or a way to sell the room for a smaller price even so you can get credits for it to spend on an item or something. It would make sense for those who can’t use what they obtain. Everyone is into something different. I don’t want a kid in a virtual world. 

However, overall the design is nice don’t get me wrong for a boys room it’s definitely cute for what you get. In a way I’m at least happy you get the furniture the living set I could probably use in a different room I have. But things like baby blocks and a crib? It was almost a waste of $15 for me. Oh yes! by the way these mystery packages are a whole $15. For this price it would’ve been more worth while to buy VIP and credits when on sale for $5.50. I guess I’ll figure out something to do with this room but it’s a shame it will just basically sit and collect cobwebs in my inventory. Below are some photo’s of this nursery. Like I said theres nothing wrong with the nursey for what it is it’s gorgeous and adorable. The creator did an amazing job! I’ve nothing against the creator or how the overall look of the room is... but again what am I going to do with it in the way I use the IMVU platform? Wish me luck as an interior designer im going to see what I can do with what I have and see if I can find a use for it down the road. 

Nursery Photos:

Second Mystery Package Revealed:

The second Mstery Package I was a little more excited for. I’ll actually be able to use this at some point. It would make a nice possibly dark themed club for the future and came with a lot of nice furniture that I can use in general whether it be in a club or home aspect. I’m not as salty spending the second $15 that I did. The second try was a lot more exciting for me since I obtained things that I COULD use at some point in one way or another. So it didn’t feel like a waste of money for how I use IMVU. I enjoy partying and entertaining my friends with a nice chat and a few awesome dance moves. I honestly can’t complain too much about my second Mystery room from the package. Best part it’s from a creator I’ve never heard of. I always support creators on IMVU especially the new and upcoming ones. I love the scenery and everything this room has to offer. Other than it looking a little to shiny and latexy it’s something I enjoy. Below are some photos of the club. I’m quite happy with this room. The room is called the PVC Black Hearts Club if you want to find it. 

Conclusion:

Overall, though I was disappointed with the first room. The second Mystery Package I bought was anything but. There are certain rooms for different people and though I didn’t know what to do with the nursery I’ll find some way to use it I’m sure. The second room the PVC Black Hearts Club is filled with so many things that are interactive and there’s so much to it. Between the furniture and the atmosphere it’s something I enjoy. Just know that sometimes you’re going to obtain things in Mystery Packages you don’t like and that’s why IMVU does it. Because they know if what you get first isn’t something you like or can use the curiosity consumes you and you end up impulse buying another. Sometimes that’s a good thing because you could be like me and end up with something you like and can use for your second. It all has to do with the luck of the draw. I hope this was somewhat interesting to read. 

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 1)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

“Hello, hello, hello, hello!” I sing, trotting inside the office, waving at whoever wants to see it, too much in a rush to actually stop and greet everybody.

“Someone’s late for a meeting.” Ava, our receptionist and secretary throws at me from behind her desk , making fun of me, as always. I mean, I’m quite good at making a show out of myself, I can’t blame her.

“I forgot my bloody portfolio!” I shout in explanation, running the best I can in those heels.

“Morning Jade.. Elijah..Sam..Anthony.” I say, passing their working stations. I reach my office and circle my desk, trying to find my portfolio amongst the pile of rubbish on my desk.

For someone who makes a living out of organising spaces, I sure know how to orginize my stuff. But I’m working on It. Or at least, I plan on doing that. I find my portfolio under a pile of calendars I didn’t know I had.

When I look up and prepare to leave, Ava is standing in my doorway with her usual plate of warm pancakes that she brings every morning.

“Hi. Oh, sorry I don’t have time.” I tell her, exiting my office. She gives me a knowing smile and just stands there, knowing I’ll end up taking one.

I take a few steps back.

“Just one.” I mumble, rolling up a pancake. “Bye!”

“Maya, honey.” I hear my boss and idol, Frédérique Meunier- Fred, call me. I stop dead in my tracks with the pancake in my mouth, knowing he’s about to scold me for being late. And today is not a good day to be late. I’m late precisely for the meeting I can’t be late for.

“Yes?” I say, slowly turning around to face him. He’s narrowing one eye at me. I know I have to come back from this meeting with a contract. The client’s rich, the project’s big, and he requested me specifically.

“Are you late for the Violet Mansion meeting?” He asks, but I’m pretty sure he knows the answer to his question. Or does he? I narrow my eyes back at hm, gauging.

“Define “late”.” I try. He sighs deeply.

“You’re lucky you’re talented. Go.” He mutters, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. Fred always tells me I make him age quicker than he’s supposed to. Today I see that. I take my cue and turn around, trotting out of the office just like I came in.

“She’s something.” I hear Fred mumble to himself, and I’m pretty sure it’s a compliment.

-

The mansion is located outside London. It’s a 30 minute drive from the city center, where our office is. I usually work in the city, being specialized in modern luxury. This is a first for me, and I’m excited. I hope me being 45 minutes late isn’t going to be a big deal.

There is a long driveway that leads to the house, with old but huge metal gates before it. Through the bars, I can see the Violet Mansion, which is not violet at all. The building is named like that because the original owners were lavender dealers and their backyard was famous for its lavish parties in a purple see of flowers. It’s been centuries, but the name sticks.

I don’t know who the current owner is though. I just have his name. Jeon Jungkook.

I ring the intercom.

“Name, please.” A male voice slurs from the other side of the line. How about Hello? Rude.

“Maya Fair. I’m the interior designer.” I reply. I wait for an answer, but there’s just a loud buzz, and the gates open slowly. I squeeze through when there is enough space for my mini and park my car in the driveway, at the bottom of the steps that lead to the porch.

I take a moment to appreciate the monster. This mansion is old and Italian, almost immaculate with fair stones. No one would believe this jewel sits right outside London. What I love about the exterior are the two stairways that lead to the porch.

I walk up the stairs and prepare to knock on the door, when it opens on its own. I meet a tall- taller than me - asian man. He’s wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, the top buttons of it undone and letting appear a path of pearly white skin. His face is… a version of perfect. His sturdy brown eyes are pinned on me, his eyebrows furrowed and his whole being radiating with charisma.

The sight of him knocks the air out of my lungs. He is beautiful, in a dirty and disturbing way. He stares at me, clearly having no plans on greeting me first. I need to speak.

“Mr Jeon.” I try, though I could be wrong. He could be an employee, but my gut tells me he owns this place. He radiates with power. But it’s his eyes I’m mesmerized by.

“Hello, I’m Miss Fair. I’m terribly sorry for being late.” I manage to speak without my voice breaking, but I’m sure I’m betraying my mental state. I stretch my hand out, and I almost squeal when he takes it in his. He shakes my hand with his firm yet a bit clammy hand. They are warm. My heart starts to pound in my ears.

“I’m even sorrier Mrs Fair. I thought my PA had called you to tell you you didn’t need to come anymore.” He says, letting my hand go. He has an American accent.

“Oh. Are we postponing?”

“No, I gave the protect to someone else.” He counters, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers. That’s when I notice how well they fit him, and how they hang perfectly on his hips.

Wait what? My face falls, realisation sinking into my brain.

“Someone who was on time.” He adds when he sees my face. What?! He gave it to someone else just because I was late? He doesn’t even know what i could do with it! And he asked for me specifically. I have no way how he knows about me by the way.

For a second, I manage to forget his hypnotising looks and focus on my work and the situation at hand.

“But is he or she better than me?” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest. “Maybe you should find out before appointing anybody for such an ambitious-”

“Punctuality,” He cuts me off, taking a step closer to me and stepping out onto the porch. My heart jumps in my throat as he gets closer. His aura engulfing me.  “Mrs Fair, is something I demand from all my business partners. He lectures. I swallow, his words missing my brain. I can’t seem to look away from his face, and I start blushing when my eyes land on his mouth.

If I don’t stop right now, he’ll notice. I start remembering everything that happened this morning. I really thought this would be just like any other day, and here I am, shaking like a leaf in front of the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, who also happens to be an asshole and is about to get me fired.

“It’s professionalism, etiquette, politeness. I don’t work with people who waste my time.” He says, his tone icy. He speaks slowly but each of his words feel like a violent slap across the face.

“Even if they could do greater things than others?” I retort, because as hot as he is, I think it’s a stupid way of thinking. He narrows an eye at me, frowning. “Suddenly I’m quite curious as to how your business is doing, considering you like closing doors for petty reasons.”

“Petty.” He scoffs.

“Let me see this mansion and I’ll expose my ideas.” I propose. I’m in survival mode. His looks and the manliness he radiates with have made my head spin, but now I’m back in the game.

“With that attitude?” He scoffs at me again.

“It’s my ideas that I sell, not my attitude.” I retort. His head tips to the side and he takes a moment to study me, eyes searching on my face like lasers. They crack open my business armor, and as I try to hold his gaze, I suddenly see a point of something dangerous in his eyes. I’m the first one to look away.

“After you, miss Fair.” Mr Jeon grants me after what feels like an eternity, stepping aside to let me in the mansion. I take a few step in and wait for him to close the door, taking in the sight of this building.

If the exterior speaks in Italian, the interior screams…help. The interior is a mix of Rococo and Mediteranean designs, which looks… shocking.

The structure of the house is Italian, with white stones on the walls, wide arcs as openings, no doors, dark beige tiles on the floor, but the furniture is out of time. Everything is beautiful and pristine, bu it’s red, baroque and rococo. English rococo. English and Italy don’t go together very well. I’m hoping Mr Jeon is going to ask me to bring him to Italy with this one.

“My PA is giving a tour to the other designer.” I hear his loud voice way too close to me, enough to make me jump and snap me out of my reverie. I turn to look at him. “So you’re stuck with me for that part.”

“You called two designers for the same job?” I ask, quite shocked.

“I’ll compare your ideas, see which one I like the most.” He replies simply.

“You sure show little faith in me for someone who requested me by name.” I throw, hoping to get an explanation about that.

“My brother recommended you to me.” He declares, staring at me, then his eyes dip to my lips, and my chest, I think. “I see why, now.” He adds more quietly, before turning on his heels. My jaw drop as I stare at the back of his head. What a fucking boor!

“Excuse me?” I utter, prompting him to turn back around.

“I most certainly didn’t sleep with your brother, whoever that is.” I say categorically, glaring at him. He laughs at me, boyish and loud. His eyes get smaller and small wrinkles appear next to them, and he beams, his face radiating with light.

Now I know what a true beautiful smile is.

“Miss Fair will you please unravel your knickers,” He says to me “I was only talking about your attitude.” He explains. Oh.

“Since my brother loves to piss me off, I guess he recommended me someone just as infuriating as him.” He throws at me, and as negative as his words are, his tone, and the way his eyes twinkle, tell me it’s more of a compliment than an insult.

I dont’t dwell on it though, because I can’t think straight when he’s looking at me. I purse my lips.

“Great. Can we start discussing the project?” I prompt. His smile fades away.

“Would you like a drink?” He proposes. Actually, my mouth feels dry, because I have been internally dry-heaving ever since I laid my eyes on him.

“No, thank you.” I lie, just wanting to get on with the tour. Nodding quietly, Mr Jeon shows me upstairs and across the mansion.

“This, is where I might need you.” He says as we enter a totally different section of the building. As if another part had been attached to it like a piece of lego, the interior morphs from a patchwork of ancient style manor to a jewel of modern luxury and minimalism.

We step onto a mezzanine that gives onto a lounge area. I’m tempted to scream down the room, certain it’ll echo.

“I just bought this mansion, and it has this extension.” He explains. This place is immaculate.

Needing to keep a trace of that, I pull out my small camera from my bag and snap a quick picture. I lift my head to immortalize the diamond chandelier

“I want this,” I hear Mr Jeon say, and he puts his hand over my camera, lowering it. I look back at him, and he’s throwing daggers at me with his eyes.

”to become the whole mansion.” He finishes. I clear my throat.

“This?” I point towards the lounge area. He can’t be serious.

“Yes. I want more luminous rooms and pale colors. All that red really gets on my nerves.” He mutters, leaning against the guardrail of the mezzanine.

Why would he do that? White walls, really? Beige floor tiles? One leather sofa here and there? It looks beautiful, sure, but in its own genre. That’s not the spirit of the mansion. I thought he was going to ask me to bring back the mozzarella of this place, not turn it into a Dubai hotel.

“Why not just build another mansion?” I propose.

“Pardon?”

“You want to rob this building from its character, and that’s a shame.” I explain, and I’m too worried about that mozzarella spirit that I don’t realise I’m stepping a line.

“Why not build your own building and give it its own identity?” I propose. “And it’s not like the rest is ugly.”

“The colors and the furniture are-“

“I’m not talking about the paint, but the shape, the structure, the skeleton of this mansion.” I cut him off, needing him to understand. I love my job, but I hate that the clients have no vison, that they don’t feel what energy buildings and houses give off. This is going to be a murder.

“If that’s what you have planned for this project, I don’t want in on this.” I tell him, looking straight into his sturdy brown eyes. He frowns down at me.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I murmur. He lags for a second, is mouth hanging slightly open, his lips parted in a way that lets me see a bit of his tongue, and that’s enough to distract me again.

“You make all this fuss for me to let you in and you give up because you like the mouldings?” He says, threat in his voice.

“Yes.” I reply sternly.

“This,” I wave towards the extension. “Is absolutely beautiful. It’s divine.” I tell him. Turning on my heels, I walk back to the place where the old building is.

“But this is the mansion we’re in.” I place my hand on the rock arc that serves as a doorway. I look back at him, hoping he’s getting what I’m saying. His face is a knot of confusion, and he looks displeased. This is pointless.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I can’t murder this old guy.” I shrug, giving the arc an affectionate tap. I can’t believe I’m refusing such a project, but my heart won’t handle it. Shit, Fred won’t handle it if I come back empty-handed.

“But I can pass it to a colleague of mine. She’s phenomenal when it comes to minimalism, and Italian furniture. She’ll do fantastic.”  I add quickly, almost stumbling over my words. Mr Jeon opens his mouth to talk but he’s cut off by sounds of heels treading the floor. My eyes follow the sound and I see a man and woman walking up the mezzanine in our direction.

“No need.” Mr Jeon says to me.  “Miss Bingfield here is only too willing to be part of this.” He says, waving towards the middle-aged woman accompanied by another asian man. I freeze, feeling defeated.

“And she was on time.” He adds. Ouch. The woman flushes, clinging to her portfolio and battling her eyelashes at him. I look away, feeling nauseous.

“There are a few things we need to discuss, Mr Jeon.” She murmurs to him.

“Jimin, please show miss Bingfield back in my office.” Mr Jeon orders, and the guy- Jimin, as I know him now, strides past me, greeting me with a nod, followed by the other designer.

Mr Jeon strides over to me.

“I’ll walk you back to the door.” He says, his words feeling like stabs in my stomach. This is disastrous. I barged my way into this mansion by acting cocky and confidant, and know my confidence has been shattered to pieces, and I feel humiliated.

“I’ll show myself out, thank you.” I mutter, turning on my heels. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle any more time in his company.

“I insist.” I hear him say as he walks next to me. I shut him out, looking down at the floor as we walk back to the entrance of the mansion, but my head shoots up when I feel him casually put his hand on to small of my back.

A current of electricity travels through me, and I almost forget how to walk. Now It’s all I feel, the heat of his hand, through the  material of my dress and through my skin, through my flesh and inside my core. I take quicker steps, my breath caught up in my throat.

What is this? Why am I like this? I completely lost my composure the second I laid my eyes on him and I fucked things up. Not only did I miss a contract, a beautiful Italian architect work is going to be destroyed and I humiliated myself in front of a man who knew I’d do just that.

I’m such a failure. Tears of frustration rise up to my eyes, making them sting. And my throat tightens and my nose starts to feel heavy with snot.

“Could I yse the bathroom quickly?” I blurt out, feeling like I’m about to lose it. Jeon stops abruptly in his steps.

“There’s one right there.” He point at a door behind me. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.“

Avoiding his gaze, I dive into the bathroom and look the door just in time, bursting into tears right after. I slap my portfolio on the vanity, angry at myself and that piece of crap who doesn’t recognise beauty. Taking deep breaths, I wipe my tears away, wanting to calm down as fast as I can.

If you want to cry Maya, you can, but get out of here first.

Checking myself in the mirror, I’m relieved to see my eyes aren’t red yet. I smooth my hair down and gently slap my cheeks, giving myself a mental pep talk. Just one more minute with him.

You go down the stairs, out the mansion, into your car and byebye sexy douche bag. You can do this.

Taking one last, cleansing breath, I assess myself one last time in the mirror. I look just fine. I walk out the bathroom and retrace my steps until I’m back at the stairs. Mr douchy is waiting for me like he said, hands in the pockets of his fine trousers.

In dead silence, he escorts me to the door, opening it for me.

“Pleasure meeting you, Maya.” He murmurs, offering me his hand. The way my name rolls off his tongue makes the hairs on my nape rise in attention.

“Miss Fair.” I correct him, shaking his hand. He gives me a knowing smile. He knows.

“Miss Fair.” He repeats, letting my hand go. “Lovely meeting you. I mean it.” He murmurs, and I act as if his wors aren’t about to make me shake like a leaf. I muster up the last bit of confidence he left in me after thiose twenty minutes.

“I’d say the same thing, but I don’t lie.” I reply on the same honeyed tone as him. He makes a surpried but subtly pleased face. The guy is having his fun right now.

“Great day to you Mr Jeon.” I mutter, turning on my heels and doing my best not tosprint away. I walk down the stairs and don’t hear the door being closed. I understand he’s stilll watching me from the porch, so I try to march as confidently as possible without turning back.

I make it to my car, and I feel safer there. I sigh deeply, leaning my forehead against my steering wheel. I want to go home. I physically sag, all strength having being drained out of me during this… whatever this was.

i joldt up when I hear a loud buzz, and see the gates slowly opening in front of me. Pulling myself together, I start the engine and squeeze through when I have enough space, driving away without any intention of coming back.

I drive back to the office, and it’s almost empty, almost everyone being gone on their lunch break. Sighing deeply, I sag agaisnt the chair of my desk, dropping my head between my hands.

How the hell am I supposed to tell Fred I lost the contract? It was almost a done deal. He requested me by name.

Fred always complains that I refuse deals because I’m ’too’ passionate about what I do. And I try, really try to work on it, but it really makes me emotional to see people ruining houses and architect work because of trends.

I absolutely love my job, I love architecture, and that’s why I want to do it properly. But can I call it proper work when I keep losing money?

“So? How did it go?” I hear Jade, a colleague of mine ask me. When I look up she’s entering my office, closing the door behind her and leaning against the door. She looks at me with shiny eyes, her lips pursed in anticipation. Even she was excited about this.

I burst into tears, dropping my head again, feeling defeated for the second time.

“Hey.” Jade croons, walking over to me. She sits on my desk, one of her hand coming down to stroke my back comfortingly.

“I’m a monumental fuck-up.” I sob, wiping my eyes only to let more tears fall out of them.

“Honey, what happened?” She asks me. I look up at her through my damp lashes.

“He gave it to someone else.” I sniffle.

“The project? Why?” She breathes, her face a knot of confusion. I sniffle.

“Because I was late.” I confess,. “And because I refused when he gave me a second chance.” I test it on her, lifting shy eyes to her face to see her reaction so I can imagine Fred’s.

“Maya.”

Hugh. I drop my head in my hands again.

“Fred is going to kill me.” I groan.

“Well, he’s out of the office all afternoon, so calm down.” She says. not denying it. He is going to kill me. Tomorrow. I have 22 hours to live. I’ll take that.

“Than man, Jeon Jungkook, he’s quite something.” I mutter.

“He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“You know him?” I shoot my eyes up at her.

“My husband works with him sometimes. He’s tough in business.” She explains. Tough in business? He’s tough period.  “But hot, right?” She smirks.

I don’t reply and look away from her, not wanting to confess that just looking at him turns me into an anxious sappy puddle. My office phone rings.

Sighing, I quickly grab a tissue from the box on my desk and wipe my nose, picking up the combine,

“Hello?” I say as I take the call. Jade gives me a sympathetic tap on the back before leaving me to my business.

“Maya? Mr Jeon on line 2 for you.” Ava says from the other end of the line. What?

I thought I’d never have to deal with him again. I think secretly I was relieved he gave the project to someone else, now I’m getting nervous again just at the idea of being on the phone with him. This man is bad for my blood pressure.

I take a few seconds.

“Put him through.” I tell her before hanging up. I wait, staring at the phone on my desk until it starts ringing again. And I wait. It rings once, twice, three times, and I pick up at the fourth time.

“One second please.” I say quickly before putting him on hold. I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I want him to think I’m busy. I take his call after another twenty seconds.

“Union design and architecture, Maya on the phone, how can I help you?” I say, sounding as professional yet nonchalant as possible.

“Maya?” His voice sounds like buttery pancakes, my name in his mouth making me ball my fists as my blood rushes through my veins. I put my fist in my mouth, calming myself down.

“Who’s talking?” I pipe up.

“Well, the man whose name the receptionist told you.” He retorts. “But nice try.”

Ouch.

“What can I help you with, Mr Jeon?” I sigh. He even defeats me at my twisted mind games.

“You forgot your portfolio in my bathroom.” He informs me.

“Oh.” I say. “You can throw it away. I have multiple.” I lie. I don’t have multiple portfolios, I’ve lost them all, but I’m not meeting him again to get it back. He can have it.

“Noted. But that’s not the only reason I’m calling.” He retorts. God help me. “Do you do evenings?” He asks me.

“No, I don’t.” I lie.

“Something tells me you’re lying.”

HOW THE FUCK DOES HE KNOW?

“Mr Jeon, why don’t you just tell me what you want?” I ask, exasperated.

“I will. Let’s say tomorrow around seven?” He proposes. Oh sweet mother of jesus, I’m seeign this man again, aren’t I?

If it’s work related, I’ll have to go. It could be an occasion to get a contract and prevent Fred from firing me.

“Maya?” He calls when I don’t answer.

“Miss Fair.” I correct him.

“Miss Fair, can we meet at seven?” He sounds amused.

“-Ish.” I tell him.

“-ish.” He repeats. “Good. I’ll send you the address.”

“Perfect.”

“See you tomorrow, Maya.”

“Miss-“

He hangs up before I can correct him. Christ, what am I getting myself into?

Seconds later, I receive a text on my phone from an unknown number. It’s nothing but un address. How did he get my number? Oh, my portfolio.

-

I drive to the location Mr Jeon gave me. It’s outside london but closer than the mansion. When I actually make it to the adress, I  meet nothing but a dirt road, and my GPS indicates I’m at destination. But there’s nothing. Nothing expect another car, Mr Jeon’s Audi, which he’s leaning against, waiting for me. He’s wearing a suit today as well, but this time he has a jacket and a tie. The jacket fits him perfectly. I have a thing for well fitted suits, men in suits, him in a suit…

My heart starts to race again just at the thought of being close to him, talking to him and having him looking at me with his deep pools of brown.

I park right behind his vehicle and get out my car with shaky legs.

“Maya.” He greets with a soft yet dazzling smile, stretching his hand out to me.

“Miss Fair, please.” I correct him, making sure he doesn’t cross the line again. I fully intend on not letting him trample me. I shake his hand, and I think I make a good job hiding the tingles that run through me when our skins touch.

“Miss Fair.” He concedes, nodding softly, his fingers lingering against my palm as I slip my hand out of his. “You’re looking lovely today.” He says appreciatively, taking me by surprise.

Wait, what?

I’m suddenly self conscious, know that I know he notices the way I look. My cheeks heat up dangerously, and I’m a bit listless, my mouth going dry.

This god-like creature thinks I look lovely today.

My mouth hangs slightly open in shock, and I can’t seem to manage to form a decent answer- or a decent sound, for that matter. His eyes slide down my legs.

“Maybe I should’ve told you to bring flat shoes.” He muses, crinkling his nose. He crinkles his nose!

“We’re going for a hike.” He declares. I blink rapidly.

“Are we?” I manage. He nods silently.

“Follow me.” He invites.

My feet accepting to cooperate, I follow him down the lane, entering the forest. We walk in the nature for a good five minutes, the forest slowly morphing into darker woods. And That’s when I start to wonder just what I am doing, following an asian sex symbol in woods outside London.

I think I should run. No one knows where I am. Hell, I don’t even where I am. When I decide to stop and run, we make it out of the woods into a huge parcel of greenery, standing just at the bottom of a hill. There is a stairway that has been built to reach the top. It’s made of white stones, and from the bottom, it forms a mosaic with roman designs using perspective vison.

I’m fascinated and curious. There is actually something up here. The stairs are rundown though, broken in several places, pieces  missing, the overall structure looking unsteady. But it’s beautiful.

“The steps are broken. Be careful where you step.” Mr Jeon says to me as I start climbing. This is such a shame. These stairs must have looked amazing in the past.

“You still don’t want to tell me why I’m here?” I ask, detaching my gaze from the stones under my feet.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replies elusively.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again.” I murmur, and watch as his brow furrows. He looks at me quizzically.

“I never said that. I said I was pleased to meet you.” He reminds me. Well, that’s something you say to anyone when you’re polite enough. I didn’t think-

“And I said I meant it.” He adds. So, that man doesn’t know how to lie? He really was pleased to meet me? He, for sure, had a ver strange way of showing it.

“Ah!” I shriek when the stone under my foot wobbles and detaches itself from the step. I stumble forward, but Mr Jeon’s strong hand stops my fall. He grabs me by the upper arm and yanks me up, pulling me flush against him.

I look up at him, mortified by his proximity. His heat pours out onto me, from his chest onto my side, and from his hand onto my arm. The delicate smell of fresh yet musky cologne engulfs itself in my nostrils, and his brown pools stare at me intently, bordering on a slight glare.

My heart is in my ears, pounding hard and heating up my cheeks.

“I said be careful.” He murmurs, letting me go. When he steps back, the air gets thinner, and I can actually breathe. That’s when I realise I was holding my breath.

“Thank you.” I mumble, actually thanking god he stepped away, but then I feel his fingertips sliding across my palm. I look down at my hand as he slips his in it, clipping my fingers down with his thumb across my knuckles.

“We’re almost there.” He says, holding my hand up. My mouth dries out, all the moisture in it going straight to my hand and making it clammy. He’s holding my hand.

He slightly tugs me forward, prompting my feet to move. And while he thinks he’s helping my go up the stairs more steadily, he’s actually making it worse for me because my legs have turned into jelly.

He lets me go once we make it to the top, and I meet an abandoned horror house. It’s actually a windmill house, from old America, again, right outside London. But it’s broken down, rundown, old and scary. The windmill is placed on the left, a large column maybe ten meters high. It’s made of old white stone that went beige with time.

“What’s this?” I ask my client as we walk down the grave pathway.

“My old guy.” He declares, watching me. His old guy? He has some sentimental connection with this shell of a house? We stop under the porch.

“You’re giving me this…project?” I ask, incredulous. He really was pleased to meet me.

“It’s not a project.” He shakes his head softly, looking up at the mill. “It’s my whole life.”

I swallow. He sure does know how to put pressure on people.

“And I want you to work on it.” He adds, and deep down, in a small, unused part of my brain, I tell myself he’s not just talking about this house.

[artificialqueens]

A romance for the books, chapter 1: Easy as A, B, C (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: A holiday gift for Holtz, who is the best ever. I’m putting it up now cause I got a lot of other projects going–because it’s multichap, this one will likely go into the new year. LOVE U HOLTZ <3

Thank you so, so much to Athena for beta-ing and helping me brainstorm!!! You’re the best and without your inside scoop on being a librarian, this fic never would have come to be! <3

It takes about thirty seconds for Brooke to spot her next perfect target.

It’s usually about simple math, a quick judge of character. Who sticks out just enough that it’s apparent they don’t come often, but not so much that they know it and would call Brooke out. Someone who knows the rough norms, but doesn’t care enough to follow them. Someone who’ll be just in and out , or who goes to the library solely as a place to pass time, not because they want to be there.

And this girl, well, this girl fits the bill to a T.

The girl is in shorts and a tank top–given that it’s about thirty-five degrees outside, and this is a neighbourhood where most apartments don’t have AC, it means the girl is probably one of those people looking for a cool place to go in the summer. Second, she comes in popping her gum and with music blasting through her earphones, meaning she either doesn’t know or doesn’t care for library etiquette. And when she walks up to the counter, she plunks down about five thin books, which likely means she reads to kill time, and probably doesn’t care too much for returning individual books before their due dates, as opposed to piling them up for whenever it’s convenient.

“I’d like to return these, please.” the girl smiles and bats her eyelashes, and Brooke smiles back warmly.

“Of course. Can I get your library card?”

It’s a shame; the girl is pretty, really pretty. Dazzlingly white teeth, round, dimples, and wide, friendly eyes all look back at Brooke, their owner looking at her expectantly, trustingly, even. But sometimes, the sweetest patrons make the easiest marks.

She grabs her scanner, scans the girl’s card, and begins to check in the books, her routine underway.

Check, click, beep, no problem.

The trick to a good con is to be unnoticeable. That’s why she started in the library–she’d been working there five years already, had her own system, designated scanner, computer, and accounts. She was so integrated into it, there was no way she could stick out in it.

Check, click, beep, no problem.

Take only little bits at a time. That was how it started, and that was the hardest thing to turn into a system; how much to take, from whom. How not to get caught. Every librarian on staff pockets late fees from time to time; when you’re a couple dollars short for lunch or you’ve forgotten your phone at home and need change for the payphone, the cashbox at the back of the customer service area is a tempting reserve. But that didn’t mean you could get greedy–you had to be sneaky, had to be covert. A target who wouldn’t fight, who would believe the late fees were theirs, in an amount that the til wouldn’t miss. Not too often, or people would suspect something. No, it was all a balancing game, one that took keen practice and cautious judgement.

Check, click–alarm.

Be quick with your hand. Brooke likes to use her own scanner, one she had outfitted with a trick button to trigger the flagging noise. She’d claimed the computer at the end of the line as her preferred one, making sure no one could see her screen. She wears long sleeves to pocket the change in. When she flags someone’s book, she mashes buttons on her keyboard quickly, programs in a believable, yet still somewhat inflated amount for the fine. Two, three dollars maybe, and put a small portion of that in the cashbox just to ward off suspicion.

Check, click–alarm.

Same thing, over and over, and then she moves on. That’s the most important rule, after all.

Never stay on one target too long.

Check, click, beep, no problem.

“So it looks like you have two fines.” Brooke puts down her scanner in its place right next to her computer, always within her view, handle down so and back to her so that no one can see the trick alarm button on it. “Late fees.”

“Late fees?�� the woman’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, her voice pointed. “What you talkin’ ‘bout, Mary?”

“Two of your books are late. These two.” she turns her computer and points at the two books, looking back at the woman smugly, and that’s when she realizes her mistake.

“I took those out only a week ago. Your computer’s broke,” the woman crosses her arms stubbornly. “‘Cause I should have three weeks to return them.”

Oh, fuck. Brooke turns the monitor back towards herself and takes a sharp breath in, trying to swallow the panic that’s quickly bubbling up in her chest, making her heart beat faster. The woman–Vanessa, Brooke sees when she glances down at the woman’s library card to see who she’s dealing with–is right. The books were only taken out a week ago. Brooke had underestimated her and gotten cocky.

It’s alright; it’s alright. She’s been caught like this before. She’s been challenged like this before. That’s the advantage of her system; if things go south, she can always blame the computer.

“Okay, I’ll strike the fees.” she forces her voice to stay light despite herself, despite the adrenaline coursing through her that’s making her whole body buzz. “Sorry about that; the computer must be off.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa eyes Brooke up and down, but there’s no suspicion in her eyes, only amusement. “That’s alright.”

Vanessa swipes her card back, then turns around to leave, and Brooke breathes out, thinking it’s over, when suddenly, the smaller girl turns back around.

“Say, what’s your name, Mary?”

“Lynn.” Brooke lies.

“No it’s not.” Vanessa grins, the amusement in her eyes turning into a full-blown, mischievous sparkle.

“It’s not.” Brooke admits, chuckling a little despite herself. As terrifying as it is, God, this woman is good.

“I’m not askin’ ‘cause I’m gonna tell.” Vanessa shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper as she leans in conspiratorially. “I’m askin’ ‘cause I wanna know for personal reasons.” she winks, and that’s when Brooke understands. She’s not dealing with anyone right now. No, she’s dealing with a professional.  

Fuck.

“Brooke.” she admits, “My name is Brooke.”

“Alright, miss Brooke.” Vanessa nods, “I’m Vanessa, but you already knew that, ain’t you?”

Brooke doesn’t say anything else, only nods, feeling her mouth go dry.

It’s only after Vanessa flounces away that Brooke looks down on the counter and realizes that Vanessa’s left a scrap of paper behind.

A due date reminder slip for the two books Brooke had flagged, with a phone number scrawled on the back.

–

Vanessa has had her eye on Brooke for a while. She’s not the typical mark–she works in a library, for God’s sake, that’s not exactly big-bucks material. But she’s tall, and blonde, and there’s something about her that says she’s got more going on than Vanessa realizes.

Which means that at the very least, she’s someone that Vanessa can have fun with, if not draw in and use.

Vanessa’s by no means an amateur at this game. She’s been going in and out of it since she was in college, ever since she had bills to pay for the first time and job interviews she’d need fancy clothes for. After that, well, it was a bit of a habit–she’d acquired a taste for luxury, and a need for adrenaline, and her modus operandi suited both.

Find a girl who was just barely upper-class–not so rich she’d be suspicious, not so poor she’d be seriously impacted by Vanessa’s scam, and take her out for a few drinks. Get to know her. Play the bimbo. Forget her wallet a few times, just as a test to see how the girl would react. Then start asking for library late fees. A few dollars here and there, maybe once per month, just enough to pad her pockets for a few extra splurges at the mall when the mood struck. Then the bigger things–after enough late fees, enough time building up her image as a bookworm, the girls would usually start just buying her books, telling her this way she wouldn’t have to worry about fees. Not the most extravagant gifts, but ones that she could sell for a decent turnaround to college students looking to complete their class reading lists. That was the game, after all; never taking enough to raise suspicion, but just enough that she could walk into Pandora after each breakup and buy herself something nice for her troubles.

Besides, there was usually some decent sex to be had out of it, too.

So when she saunters up to Brooke after a week of watching unnoticed, ready to figure out the woman’s secret, find something she can exploit, she’s even more surprised than she thought she’d be.

Brooke’s skills are rough, that’s for sure. But she has potential. And Vanessa could use some potential on her team.

It’s only about two hours before she gets the text she’s been waiting for.

Hey, it’s Brooke.

She saves the number immediately, grinning to herself.

V: well hey miss Brooke

V: how u doin?

B: lol

B: I’m fine, thanks, you?

V: peachy.

There’s a pause, and Vanessa can’t help but wonder what Brooke is thinking, what her next move is going to be.

B: so why did you pick me?

Vanessa whistles, her grin widening further. Maybe she had underestimated Brooke after all; smarts aside, this chick is bold.

V: I like a girl who can stay on my level.

Another pause, and Vanessa holds her breath, her confidence dimming just a little.

B: I’ve seen Focus already. I know what you’re trying to do.  

B: I work alone and you’re not getting any cut.  

Vanessa’s grin fades completely, cockiness replaced with frustration and, she has to admit, just a tinge of anger. If it’s going to be like that, then it’s going to be like that–but she’ll be damned if she lets anyone call her out on shit, especially shit she had only half-planned to pull.

V: Fine.  

V: But if you’re gonna work alone, at least don’t try to judge a mark by the length of their shorts. It’s the middle of August, bitch. IQ don’t come with air conditioning.  

She tosses her phone onto her kitchen table and rockets up to grab herself a glass of water, still fuming once she settles down and grabs the book across from her, hoping an old favourite like Coraline will get Brooke out of her head.

It doesn’t, and so before she can even finish her chapter, she’s picked up her phone again, staring at the message on the screen in disbelief.

B: Fair point

B: Thanks for the tip.  

–

Brooke is three beers deep at a coworker’s birthday party about a week later when she sees Vanessa stalking towards her from across the bar.

“This coincidence, or are you some kind of mastermind?” she sneers as Vanessa sidles up next to her, but the shorter woman only rolls her eyes.

“Coincidence, bitch. You ain’t that special.” her voice has a drunken lilt to it, and Brooke can tell she’s tipsy, that she’s got a good amount of liquid courage under her belt. That’s fine; so does does she. “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi.” Brooke snorts, and Vanessa rolls her eyes.

“Oh, Christ.” Vanessa sighs exasperatedly. “Look, Brooke, I barely suggested anything to you. You ain’t want it. Whatever. I ain’t out here to try and steal your thunder, we still run in different circles and your gig don’t have to be mine.”

“So why did you come over here, then?” Brooke eyes the shorter woman up and down, unconvinced. Vanessa wouldn’t have stuck her neck out like that if she wasn’t serious, if there wasn’t something motivating, something absolutely irresistible in it for her.

“‘Cause you may not want to work together, but you still sexy, mami.” Vanessa cocks an eyebrow, and Brooke can’t help but laugh.

“So let me get this straight. You wanted to work with me, now you want to sleep with me?” for all Brooke’s incredulity, though, Vanessa doesn’t seem even remotely shaken.

“I told you, I like a girl who can stay on my level.”

“Well, level yourself.” Brooke rolls her eyes. She’s just about to get up, just about to walk away, when a hand on her wrist stops her.

“Look, mami, I know I fucked up. I know I look like some kinda ass. But I seen the way you look at me. I know we got chemistry, and I know we both lookin’ for somethin’ better to do tonight than sitting here drinking lukewarm beer.”

Vanessa’s right; Brooke had been thinking of leaving, and truth be told, the longer Vanessa sits in front of her, the more seriously she’s considering Vanessa’s offer. It can’t be helped, not really–Vanessa’s smart , and bold, the exact kind of challenge that Brooke likes in a woman. She can tell she’s going to be a fun time already, and that’s before Brooke gets a good look at her, before she trails her eyes over Vanessa’s body one more time and sees everything that she failed to pay proper attention to the first time she saw her in the library. High cheekbones; dazzling teeth. A waist that has to be cinched, there’s no other explanation for how nice it is. And a bemused, plump-lipped smile that says that Vanessa knows exactly what Brooke is thinking, exactly what she’s about to say, and can’t wait to hear it.

She says a quick goodbye to her coworkers and rushes out of the bar on Vanessa’s heels, her stomach doing flip-flops and her body pulsing with a new sort of adrenaline and urgency that rivals even the thrill of getting away with a particularly hefty con.

–

Vanessa takes Brooke back to her place, mostly because Brooke insists on it—even with her tongue down Vanessa’s throat, she makes a show of her mistrust, whispering against Vanessa’s jawline that she’d better not try to steal anything.

It’s not like you’d have anything to steal. Vanessa bites back the retort, forces herself not to break whatever fragile, frenzied game they’ve got going. It’s a task that proves easier than Vanessa thought it would; all it takes is a couple of soft, sucking kisses to the nape of Brooke’s neck and the blonde melts, unable to form any words beyond more, more, Vanessa, please, more.

That’s more like it. Vanessa moves her hands slowly up Brooke’s body, taking her time to feel out every spot that makes her gasp, shiver, or whine, or all of the above, in the case of when Vanessa moves a hand up to Brooke’s neck, positions her grip in a V shape and presses down just lightly, just enough to make Brooke feel Vanessa right against her carotid arteries. Not enough to choke; just enough to command, to show her who’s in charge.

By the time they reach Vanessa’s apartment, scrambling to the elevator and hitting the wall to continue kissing and stroking and rutting against each other, Brooke is incoherent, and Vanessa is almost disappointed; she had really expected Brooke to challenge her a little more, try to talk back or regain control. Instead, Brooke is putty in her hands, flushed and breathless by the time the elevator arrives on Vanessa’s floor and they’re stumbling towards her door.

It’s only after Vanessa’s led Brooke towards the bedroom, though, that she remembers that Brooke is full of surprises.

“Whoops!” Brooke flips them around right as they’re about to fall onto the bed, throwing her weight enough so that Vanessa doesn’t have time to correct their positions before she hits the mattress, Brooke following on top of her.

“That’s more like it.” Brooke grins. She kisses Vanessa quickly on the lips, then starts to work her way down over Vanessa’s neck, marking it up with her teeth in a way that almost makes Vanessa forget everything around her except the feeling of Brooke’s mouth on her skin, licking and sucking and moving towards her collarbone. She brings a hand up to Brooke’s back, rakes her nails over it hard enough that she knows the blonde will feel it through her shirt, and it’s only when Brooke lets out an almost pitiful gasp at the sensation that Vanessa remembers who she is, what she’s doing, what she really wants.

Really, it’s Brooke’s fault for forgetting to pin Vanessa down; or maybe she’s just so used to winning, it’s never occurred to her. Either way, when Brooke’s mouth lifts from Vanessa’s chest, the smaller woman takes her chance to push her off and over onto the bed, once again flipping their positions. She’s careful to pin down Brooke’s wrists and box her in with her legs, scanning the older woman’s face for any signs of displeasure or worse, distress, but Brooke only smiles, relaxing a little, and Vanessa realizes that that’s exactly the reaction Brooke was trying to get all along.

“Brat.” Vanessa laughs, nipping Brooke’s neck and smiling at Brooke’s surprised yelp. “Your parents ain’t teach you to just ask for things you want?”

“If they did, then we wouldn’t have met.” Brooke smirks, and Vanessa has to hand it to her; she has a point.

“Cheeky bitch.” she hums before capturing Brooke’s lips in a kiss, one that finally melts any remaining tension between them, becoming soft and slow and thorough, almost exploratory. Vanessa lets go of Brooke’s wrists in favour of cupping her face, and this time, Brooke doesn’t fight–only lets her hands roam up Vanessa’s legs, over her thighs, coming to cup and squeeze the flesh of her ass over her skirt.

“You should take this off.” she breathes into Vanessa’s lips, and she’s right, it’s too damn hot, too damn uncomfortable, too damn in the way. They separate only long enough for Vanessa to shimmy out of her skirt and take her shirt off before coming back together, Vanessa’s hands stopping Brooke from pulling off her own dress.

“Let me do it.” she whispers, tracing her fingers over the hem, and this time, Brooke doesn’t fight. She only nods, lifting her arms to allow Vanessa to take her dress off and then ease her back on the bed, their bodies warm and pressed together.

After one last kiss, soft and sweet against Brooke’s jaw, Vanessa leans back, traces her eyes over every inch of Brooke’s body in an attempt to decide where she should start. It’s a task that proves incredibly difficult; truth be told, there isn’t an inch of Brooke that Vanessa doesn’t want to worship, not a single detail about her that isn’t worth extra attention. So Vanessa starts with a hand in her hair, not pulling but holding, feeling, letting the soft strands tickle against her fingers as she traces her other hand over the soft, sweat-sheened skin of Brooke’s chest, grabbing and kneading her breast through her bra.

“I, um–I actually–Sorry, but–” Brooke starts, and Vanessa rockets up, hands away, heart pounding.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?”

“No.” Brooke shakes her head, and to Vanessa’s relief, she smiles, her eyes sparkling. “It’s just that this bra isn’t great for that, the underwire’s kinda stiff. Can you give me a sec to take it off?”

That’s it? Vanessa gives a relieved laugh, lifting herself off of Brooke long enough for the other woman to shimmy out of her bra. “Jesus, I was afraid I hurt you or something.”

“Hey, don’t laugh!” Brooke whines, swatting at Vanessa’s stomach playfully. It’s a gesture that earns her two hands on her wrists, pinning her down again as Vanessa grins.

“Listen, don’t worry about that, okay?” Vanessa kisses Brooke again, soft and reassuring. “I know plenty other ways to make you feel good.”

“Then show me.” Brooke’s eyes are hooded, her pupils wide with need. It’s tantalizing, but it doesn’t mean that Vanessa will just give things up–no, that would be to easy, not nearly enough fun.

“Only if you’re patient.” she smirks, and before Brooke can protest, she’s kissing her way down the blonde’s body again, stroking the inside of her thighs and smiling into Brooke’s skin when the older woman squirms.

“You want my hands or my mouth?” she asks, when she reaches the waistband of Brooke’s underwear, running a single finger down Brooke’s slit and shivering at how easily it glides, how slick and wet Brooke is even through the far-too-thick cotton fabric.

“Mouth, please…” she pants, and Vanessa doesn’t hold back any longer.

“Get up,” she instructs, licking her lips, “And take those off. I want you to sit on my face.”

Brooke doesn’t argue or make a show of stripping–only rushes to peel off her underwear before clambouring on top of Vanessa and eases down where Vanessa’s hands guide her to go, gasping with relief as Vanessa finally brings her mouth home, licking a stripe up Brooke’s slit all the way to her clit. It doesn’t take long–only a few minutes of licking, sucking, and grazing with her teeth, and soon, Brooke’s moans are becoming shorter, more high pitched, more desperate and frequent, and then she’s coming, barely keeping herself up as Vanessa continues to suck down on her clit through her orgasm. By the time she’s finally collapsing down next to Vanessa, still shaking, still breathless, Vanessa can tell she’s completely spent and sated, ready to sleep rather than go for a second round.

If it were anyone else, Vanessa would have been pissed, felt like it was unfair; but now, cradling Brooke in her arms, kissing her forehead like it’s familiar territory she’s kissed hundreds of times before, she finds herself completely satisfied.

[irwintry]

Garden Guru

Warnings: swearing

Author’s Note: i should rly work on some new stuff

Word Count: 6k

You didn't understand your mother's love for Gerber daisies. Personally, you were a petunia gal yourself. The yard had plenty of each, along with a million other flowers that had been purchased in spurts throughout the year. Ever since you could remember, the garage of your family home never housed cars, but pots and planters instead to contribute to your mother's love for gardening.

This "love" spread elsewhere by the time you were fourteen. She'd gathered enough money to buy out the old abandoned fresh food market on Locust Ave, and in under a year, the final renovations revealed a spectacular flower shop made with all kinds of love. The porch was filled with annuals and perennials, even succulents that you talked her into ordering. She asked you to paint the great big sign that would dangle from the entrance, and even though you've never been much of an artist, you complied. Betty Bloom Florals was now open.

While you were away at college, your mother ran the shop all by herself. She felt thankful for summers especially; sales were out the wazoo and you were there right by her side. When she wasn't managing Betty Bloom, she was offering herself off as a gardener for anyone willing to pay the fees. Her background in landscape landed her roles through the Parks and Recreation department of the town, which made it harder for her to "be the boss". Though she didn't necessarily sell Betty Bloom, it opened under new management. Now, she owned but never operated.

The yard of your childhood home was your favorite landscape design of all time. The patch of green by the back fence housed a willow with a tire swing younger Y/N used to love. To its left, a fairly large greenhouse (for a backyard, at least) sat, filled to the brim with flowers, fruits, and veggies. Just off of the porch, a stone path hugged by two ginormous flower gardens led back to the greenhouse.

The garden your mother created was the love of your life. When she couldn't tend to it, you took charge. She wasn't picky per se, but often, she'd tell you what she would have preferred. Nonetheless, she never complained. It wasn't just her garden; it was yours as well.

It was the summer before your senior year. Working was going to be the same as every year had been since you started high school, but those plans fell short when your mother asked you to help out with landscaping instead. You jumped at the opportunity; however, that meant more days cooped up at home in her office while the two of you tried to agree on many, many decisions.

You loved being the daughter of a florist/ gardener because most of the time, life felt so simple.

"Y/N?"

You hummed, stirring in your sleep as you dreamt about what you would be doing now if you had gone to Hogwarts. Would you be an Auror? Okay, maybe not. They're, like, the elite... You've got to be really good.

"Y/N!" That voice was no longer a whisper, and you were no longer thinking about wandering through the Ministry of Magic and glaring at the certain wizards you disliked.

"Hmm?" You blinked your eyes open, but they had nothing to adjust to. It was still pitch dark in your room. Maybe you were hearing things. You closed your eyes again.

"Y/N." It was your mother's voice. "I think there are kids in our backyard."

"Mmm kay."

"Y/N."

"What?"

"There are kids in our backyard," she repeated.

Your eyes shot back open, and you nearly sprung out of bed to take ahold of her arms. "The flowers!"

"Yeah, the flowers," she mocked, folding her arms meanwhile freeing herself from your tight grip. She glanced toward the window that faced the backyard and nodded towards it. "Maybe you can open your window and listen in."

"Won't they hear me?" you asked. Your stomach began to hurt; you had gotten up way too fast.

She shrugged. "Yeah, and? I think they're drunk. And, they're ruining our garden."

You liked that she said our garden, even though most of the gardening had been done by her before you came back from school. You huffed and stomped over to the window, kneeling down so you could get a good angle to open the window. You tried your best to keep quiet as you did so, but apparently, they hadn't heard a thing.

"Have you fucking found any?" one asked after a long moment of rustling.

"I can't see jack shit, Luke," another replied. "Get off my butt."

You looked back to your mother, even though she was barely a visible silhouette. The kids below had flashlights – off of their phones most likely, and they were shining all over the place. There looked to be about five or six separate people darting around the yard.

"I think I found so– Nah, sorry, it was an actual weed."

Behind you, your mother huffed. "I don't have weeds."

That was when it hit you. They didn't happen upon your yard randomly while trying to sneak out somewhere, they were trying to find pot. That was also something your mother didn't have (to the extent of your knowledge), so naturally, these drunk boys were trespassing for no real reason at all.

"That's what they want," you whispered.

"What?"

"They're looking for weed," you said. "Not weeds." You shut the window slowly and began in the direction of the stairs to the first floor. "You don't happen to grow pot, do you?"

Your mother gasped as she followed you. "Oh my gosh, you're kidding me! That's what they're looking for?"

"Yep."

You opened the sliding glass door with a loud bang, and immediately a bunch of distressed swears followed. A second later, you had switched on the light. Both you and your mom stood with your arms crossed, but when the light illuminated your backyard, only one perpetrator could be found. The tall blond boy was staring at the two of you, his eyes wide and watery, his mouth hung wide open. His hands were shaky as he held them up, meanwhile shining you right in the eye with his flashlight.

"I-I-I'm– I'm s-so– "

"What's your name, sweetie?" your mother questioned slowly, her tone sharp yet calm.

He swallowed, hardly moving anything but his mouth or head. "L-Luke."

"Ah," you chuckled. "You're Luke. Did you get off of that guy's butt?"

It would have been a better joke if Luke hadn't looked so damn terrified. A part of you wanted to shrug and tell him to get the hell out; he looked too scared to be guilty of anything. But then, you took a look at the garden. Your mother seemed to be on the same page, for she had to sit down on a patio chair to keep her heart from racing too hard.

"We're calling the police," you said, trying your best to sound stern. In reality, you wanted to go back to bed. You wanted to curl up under your sheets and go back to dreaming about live in the wizarding world, but now you were having to deal with a cute trespasser with drunk intentions just to find weed.

He began shaking his head, and even from far away, you could see his lip trembling. "Please, I'll– I'll do anything."

"I'm sorry, but– "

"Anything?" your mother asked. The question itself sounded as sketchy as it was written. She uncrossed her legs before standing up, her arms still folded while she stared this Luke guy down.

He nodded. He still hadn't moved otherwise.

"You've torn my garden to shreds for what– weed?" She had a way of scaring people without yelling, something you realized early on when you were a child. It was her discipline tactic. "Gardens don't take minutes to plant and grow, so my proposition for you is– "

"Anything," he said. "Promise." This poor Luke needed a break.

"I'll give you the tools, and you fix my garden back up just the way I had designed it." Your mom walked back to the sliding door. "Come back here tomorrow at nine in the morning. You're pulling everything."

"I-I... I don't know how to garden."

She shrugged. "Y/N will show you."

You had been nodding along, and the sentence almost escaped you. Your eyes widened as your head snapped in her direction. "What? No. This is all his fault." And his other friends' of course, but if you knew guys any better, you knew that there was no way he'd be able to get his other friends to help. They weren't in the kind of trouble he was. Surely, he was going to be pissed at them.

"You work for me, so I'm asking you to help him out," she whispered to you. "Look at those eyes. Maybe you'll fall for the felon."

You sighed and glanced back at Luke. His arms were starting to lower back to his sides, but his sad eyes were as large as Jupiter. You didn't want to admit that your mother made a convincing argument; now that you'd gotten a better look at him, he was as cute as a button. And, he was so freakin' tall. How on earth a normal human could look like the embodiment of Gumby, you had no idea.

You glanced around at the stirred-up hell he and his friends created, the anger bubbling in your stomach at the thought of the hard work you and your mom put into the garden. Now, you had to do it all over again, this time with a stranger that caused it all. But, your mom was right; you work for her.

"Fine," you said. "Nine tomorrow. Bring money. We've got a lot of shit to buy because of you."

He nodded, holding back a gulp as your mother prepared to head back inside. "Thank you." His voice had strained confidence in it, almost as if he was now trying to sound less-wimpy.

Truly, you didn't think he was a wimp. If you had been in his shoes, you would be terrified of getting arrested as well. The thing was, you liked the fact that he was scared. He deserved it for the mess he made.

You gave him a smile. "Don't thank us yet, Gumby."

-

You half-expected this kid to show up twenty minutes early (mostly because he looked so damn scared the night prior, so you figured he'd do anything to make it up to the both of you), but when he arrived at 9:30 in a flannel and jeans, you couldn't help but laugh. This was what you had to work with, someone who showed up late and in inappropriate clothing for the job.

"Are we going to like, Lowes or something?" Luke asked as he approached you on the front porch. He looked hungover and exhausted, but he was no longer in shock like he had been last night.

You slung your small backpack over your shoulder and brushed passed him without a second glance. "Sammi's Greenhouse. I hope you got a nice dandy playlist for the hour-long drive."

"Hour?" he questioned. He hadn't moved from his spot on the path to your house while you were now getting in the driver's seat of your car. "What the fu– "

You shut the door and turned on the ignition. When you looked back at him, he was rolling his eyes and finally making his way to the car. So, what? He was annoyed? You were dreading this now, and you were definitely going to text your mother a super long message once you arrived at Sammi's. By this rate, you were sure this garden would take the entire summer to manage. It would be too late by then.

"What are we going that far fo'?" he asked as he slid in the passenger seat. He made a face as he took in the interior of your car. Sure, it was somewhat messy, but Betsy had been through hell and back with you. "It's gonna take us all fuckin' day to get this dumb garden fixed."

"Listen, Gumby– " You took a breath as you began backing out of the driveway. "Clearly, you don't know shit about gardening, so how 'bout you start off by not speaking at all. Okay? You're damn lucky we're not reporting you. Suck it up and follow everything I do. You're already a pain in my ass and we haven't even left the neighborhood."

"Jesus... fine," he whispered as he began playing with the rings on his fingers.

"And, I hate to break it to you bud, but this dumb garden is going to take a little longer than one stupid day to fix," you continued. You were trying not to make your nerves known through your tone.

"What?"

Your eyes widened; his "what" had been so high and loud, you nearly slammed your foot on the brakes.

"How long's this gonna fuckin' take?" Meanwhile, as he spoke, he slipped on a pair of sunglasses that looked way too expensive to be worn in a car like Betsy. In fact, he looked way too expensive for Betsy. It made you wonder why he was scavenging around your garden for weed when he could most likely get as many grams as his dumbass wanted.

"Well," you said with a sigh, "to plant... maybe a week. Which, in all honesty, is the minimum approximate time I can give you. It's a big garden, and everything needs to be perfect to satisfy my mom. If one marigold is where a petunia should be, then I wouldn't be surprised if she threatened the police on you again. I mean, hell, Gumby, you all fucking dug up almost the entire garden."

"How do you know I didn't work alone?" he questioned, surprise lacing his tone. "Also, why do you keep calling me that?"

"What? Gumby?" you asked innocently. "You know Gumby, right?"

"That clay dude?"

"Yeah, you look like him," you said. You turned down Locust Ave.

"I do not."

"Hm, kinda do."

"No, fuck you, I– "

"Anyway, my mom and I heard you all from my bedroom." You didn't want to bicker with him at this early in the morning. "You guys weren't necessarily trying to be quiet."

"We were drunk." Luke had his entire body facing away from you as he watched the buildings go by outside. His fingers were drumming along the side while he spoke.

You chuckled. "Yeah, we know, dumbass." You took a short pause before continuing on with your previous thoughts. "But... not only are you going to help plant the garden, but I'm assuming my mom wants you to help tend to it too so you can count on being at my house a lot more than just a week, that's for sure."

"What the fuck," he muttered under his breath.

"Get some tunes ready, sweetie," you said. You certainly didn't like being around Luke, but you hoped to at least get along with him eventually. "It's gonna be a long road ahead."

Luke groaned but pulled out his phone nevertheless.

"So..."

"So?"

"You got a Pokey, Gumby?" You couldn't stop smiling.

He huffed. "Fuck off."

-

You knew the flowers your mother liked to plant off the top of your head, but apparently, it would have been helpful if you had written things down. On your own, shopping would have been fine; however, you were with Luke who had no idea how to tell the difference between hydrangeas and dahlias (which, quite honestly, you weren't that peeved about considering the fact that they were placed right next to each other in the greenhouse and the blooms were the same color).

"What do you think of these?" you asked as you glanced around at the pansies. It had already been about an hour since you arrived, and Luke was certainly having the time of his life as you took ten minutes picking out which flowers you deemed perfect. "My mom is kind of lenient sometimes when it comes to the flowers I prefer. Orange or blue?"

"Look, I literally don't– "

"Orange or blue?" you repeated, now agitated. He had been pissy ever since you arrived – well, he had been pissy all damn day technically.

"Blue," he replied. "How much is this all gonna be anyway? I don't need my bank callin' and askin' why I purchased a thousand dollars' worth of fucking flowers."

You shrugged. "Maybe they'll just assume you've actually found a passion for once in your life."

Luke clearly did not like your response. Not only had you avoided his question about the price, but you had also insulted his personality in a way. Granted, you knew nothing about him, so it was rude to assume he had no passions. Maybe he wanted to be an astronaut. He'd have to behave a bit better to get there.

"I'm in a band," he seethed. "I'd honestly rather be in jail right now than be here with you."

You laughed, but it stung. Laughter was your coping mechanism. Humor – in general – made you pretend to feel better about a lot of things. "'m sure bail is much more than this garden will ever cost, sweetie."

"Okay, don't call me that," he said. "Again, how much is this going to be?"

You tried to think back to previous years while you eyed the impatiens. According to your mother's garden plan, you needed a lot of those. You hadn't gone shopping with her since before college, and now you were nearly about to start your last year. Her garden designs had certainly changed since then, but you couldn't imagine the prices being too terribly different.

"A few hundred," you answered honestly. "Not more than five, I believe."

You couldn't tell if he believed you, but he stayed silent for the first time since the two of you met completely sober this morning. Luke rubbed his eyes and pushed the cart closer to you so you could begin loading a few plastic pots. Poor old Betsy would not be able to handle this load, so, like in years past, you would have to get Peter to transport a few as well.

Peter was a friend of your family's. He had been working at Sammi's for as long as you could remember, and ever since you and your mom became garden goddesses, he had been helping you out. Most often, he'd take the heavy load of flowers or bushes in his pick-up, and then you'd give him a generous tip at the end. Even though Luke was paying for the whole purchase, you were going to give Peter the tip for personal reasons.

"'m not sure this is even legal," Luke mumbled after a few quiet minutes.

You winced; you had been hoping for more silence. "What?"

"You should've taken me to court," he said, "and then you could've given the judge an alternative. According to the law, 'm not sure you and your mum can make the rules."

"You scratch our back, we'll scratch yours."

"Don't think that's the case, darlin'," he replied, and he even cracked a smile. That was the first time he had given you a genuine smile that wasn't a fake or mean laugh of some sorts.

You put one foot up onto the cart and began pushing with the other so you could ride with it. The weight of the many flowers kept the whole thing from tipping over with you. Behind you, Luke muttered a "Jesus" under his breath, but he laughed anyway.

"You do it, too, Gumby." You nodded towards his own cart – also full of flowers. It was most likely time to start loading the car before coming back for more. "Make fun of this escapade."

He simply shook his head as he unbuttoned his flannel one or two times. "There's nothing fun about this escapade. I wouldn't even call it an escapade. And, dunno if ridin' a damn cart like a four-year-old will make it any better."

You shrugged again. "Not with that attitude." You were kind of surprised with how well you and Luke got along, despite the fact that it appeared you two disliked each other strongly. Truthfully, you were starting to like bantering with him, and you could tell he was lying about not having fun. At least you were having fun. "Hey, can I ask ya somethin'?" You sped down an aisle, kicking the concrete as if you were riding a scooter.

Luke trailed slowly behind you as he said, "you just did."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, stupid. Whatever. Why were you and your friends in our yard anyway? Why did you think we had weed?"

"Someone pranked us, I think," he answered and pulled his cart up next to you. "Need geraniums?"

"Yes, thank you." You eyed the many colors and began picking the pots up one-by-one.

"Mhm."

"Pranked you?" you asked, picking up a pot of lavender-colored geraniums and putting them into your very full cart. "How so?"

Luke let out a cough. It sounded like he was clearing his throat, but it came out much louder than he probably suspected. "We were tryin' to find some at this party because my friend Cal's dealer didn't show, and this one dude gave us the address to your house because he said the owner's – you and your mum – grew some. Think he just knew you both loved gardening 'n shit. I do feel terrible."

"'s quite a story," you said. "Ya looked fucking guilty last night, so I get you're sorry. Sorry you have to endure all of this with me."

He chuckled softly. "You're all right, I guess. I just don't know shit about gardening."

You set one last geranium into your cart and turned to Luke with a great big grin. "I'm the garden guru, sweetie. Just wait, by the end of this summer, you'll know everything there is to know about gardening."

"Again, don't call me sweetie."

You sent him a wink. "Let's get ready for round two, sweetie. Time to buy some bulbs."

-

The first week went better than you had imagined it to. Luke finally knew how to dress appropriate for gardening and hot weather, and the two of you no longer sent each other glares when the other said something wrong. At least, by this point, you both knew what not to say.

You were glad a portion of the garden had been salvageable. Some of the perennials were still a-okay, so you didn't have to buy as many bulbs as you did with buying pots of annuals. However, you did have to buy a shit ton of soil because your mother insisted that the other was soiled. She joked about it, but you were somewhat annoyed because that was more work than needed.

So, the garden was looking... better.

Luke could only work in the mornings due to his actual job in the afternoon, which meant that not a lot would get done. On the days he was late, his presence felt pointless. It took over a week to actually get one thing planted. He and his friends had unrooted nearly everything (aside from that one portion), plus the greenhouse was a fucking disaster.

As a token of your mother's gratitude, she offered you up to make Luke lunch on the days he was working. While you weren't happy about it, you did it nevertheless. He hadn't put up a fight since the proposal was offered the night he trespassed. His attitude surely sucked sometimes, but he did want to make it up to the both of you. The least you could do was feed him.

He met your dog Bubbles on a Tuesday. Your dog was nervous around people, so it was a slow introduction that ended in Luke being attacked with kisses. It shocked you at first. In all of your years of owning Bubbles, he had never once been fond of any of your friends. You hoped he liked Luke solely because you weren't friends.

"Why do you have animal crackers?" he asked on a Friday morning. It had been two weeks since he began helping to fix the garden. A lot of things had been planted, and the next plan was to figure out where to get replica items for your mother's old fairy garden. "And, what are Whales?" Luke tossed you the box of Cheez-It's you had asked him to reach for you since he was standing, and the food was in the top cupboard. "Why do you need these many crackers?"

"Stop being mean," you whined with a pout. "Those are the frosted animal crackers, and they're good. And, you have to try Whales. They're like better Cheez-It's."

"Then why are you eating Cheez-It's?"

"Shut it, Gumby."

Luke mocked your tone with incoherent words but he still opened the box of Whales. You watched as he took a few in his mouth, and you waited for his reaction after he finished chewing.

He hummed. "Not bad. Not better than the white cheddar Cheez-It's though."

"Oh no," you gasped. "You like white cheddar? Have fun in jail."

"Ha-ha." Luke turned to the fridge, but before he opened it, he examined the magnets and pictures on the front. "Is this you?"

"Hm?"

He held up the picture of a little girl – you – holding up two lollipops with a cute grin on your face. You were always told that you wore your happiness well as a child. You had been so excited to win lollies in school that your mother actually kept the picture.

"I won a spelling bee," you said. "Got two lollipops as a reward."

"Huh, cool."

"The final word was knives," you chuckled. "I don't know why I remember that, but I also remember feeling confused as to why the other kid didn't know how to spell it."

Luke set the picture back under a magnet and opened the fridge. "You were cute," he said as he pulled out a yogurt. "Can I have this?"

You nodded. "Did you just compliment me, Gumby?" You pretended to be shocked, even faked a gasp, but you actually were kind of surprised he had said that.

"I said were, darlin'," he replied with a smirk. "Why would I compliment someone who calls me Gumby?"

"It's endearing."

"Not one bit, Pokey."

You let out another gasp, except this time, this one was as real as climate change (which is very, very real). "I'm your Pokey? I'm so honored."

Luke rolled his eyes as he peeled the film lid off of the yogurt. He didn't reply, but he smiled. To you, that said enough.

-

You started noticing your feelings right when the two of you were finishing up planting. The garden wasn't flourishing as of yet, but for the most part, the dirty work had been done. Now, all Luke had to do was visit in the mornings to water. You honestly believed that he enjoyed this work now. He no longer complained, nor did he whine or groan when he had to bend over. He even stayed longer into the afternoon even though you were positive he had another job.

He laughed at your jokes. Your dry, corny humor couldn't please a child, but he laughed, and it felt genuine. His eyes would crinkle, and the harder the laugh, the higher the pitch. It made your heart swell. It was because of his laughter that you were able to recognize the feelings it gave you. And, it sucked.

Most of all, it sucked because your mother was right.

You were falling for the stupid felon.

"Did you ever tell your friends off for leaving you that night?" you asked. You were nibbling on a granola bar while Luke was turning on the hose. "If my friends did that to me, I'd probably– "

"No," he said sharply. He began watering right away, his hand tight against the handle of the spray nozzle he had been forced to purchase. Somehow, someone had snapped the handle on the old one the night of the trespassing. "'m not very good at talking to people about stuff that upsets me."

"Does that upset you?"

"What, that I can't talk to people about what they did wrong?" he questioned.

You nodded.

Luke shrugged as he wandered over to the bushes by the fence. "I guess."

"Well, there ya go!" you exclaimed. You set down the granola bar wrapper on the table nearby, and afterward, you nearly tripped on his glorious stonework on your way over to him. "'s solved. Now you can address it."

He sent you a playful glare, and you could tell it was playful because of the small smirk that had adorned his face. He had a beautiful smile, you had to admit. It was accompanied by a damn good pair of lips as well. You especially liked making him smile.

"'m not good at anything, really," he mumbled. "Singing... I guess. Shit at gardening and shit at feelings."

"Okay, first of all," you started, "you were shit at gardening. You had me so you're pretty damn good now, I would say. I can officially give myself a pat on the back for that one." You were beaming. Talking to him made you happier than you wanted it to.

Luke pushed his curls back from his forehead, giving you a perfect glance at his ring-clad fingers. He even had his nails painted a dull red. The color had started to chip, but it suited him nonetheless. "You givin' me a compliment?"

"Oh, no," you said, shaking your head. "I'm giving myself a compliment."

Luke shook his own head as he started to cackle quietly. Suddenly, he had the hose turned on you, and you began to shriek as his laughter became the cute squealy laughter that made your insides burn.

"Fuck, fuck!" You started to run around, but Luke was hot on your tail as he changed the settings on the nozzle. What had been the shower setting was now the jet setting, and you were being pelted. "Ow, you dummy!"

His giggles only got louder as he hit you with the cone setting, and at least the water on that one hurt less than the fucking jet. "Slow down!" he shouted after you. "I've missed a spot on your ass." He cornered you by the greenhouse, and just as he thought he had gotten you good, you were able to grab the hose from his slippery grip. Luckily, the hose was long enough to reach this far back in the yard.

"Payback, bitch," you said with a grin as you sprayed him. You expected him to run away as you had done, but instead, he stepped closer to you.

His laughter died down only slightly, yet you hardly noticed the change before he closed the space between the two of you. The water hit him directly in the stomach as his hand found the back of your neck to pull you into him. Your lips met in a sloppy yet comforting kiss, the kind of first kiss that people talked about for years. It was like kissing in the rain, but also completely different at the same time.

He pulled away almost as fast as he had initiated the kiss. His hair was hanging in his eyes, the strands dripping wet as he wiped the water off of his nose. That only caused you to aim the water at his face as another fit of giggles erupted through your body.

"Gonna fuckin' get you for this," he muttered, taking you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder.

"No, no, no!" you shrieked, hitting his back and spraying his butt with the jet setting.

"Hey, that's inappropriate," he whispered into your ear.

You lifted the hose again, hitting him in the face once more. "Eat my butt, Gumby."

You did not mind falling for the felon one bit.

-

You saw Luke less after that. It was partially due to the fact that the garden had been finished, and all he needed to do was stop by and water them. But, he never stayed to talk. This not only crushed you but made you resent letting yourself open up in the first place. The steady banter had been comfortable, and you should have kept it that way. You let yourself fall for someone who wasn't ready for anything in the first place.

You wanted to believe that you spoke too soon the day he pecked your lips goodbye. He made sure to wink and wave on his way out, yet somehow, your heart fell deep into your chest. Someone who didn't want to give you everything wasn't worth your time. Luke said had a tendency to avoid talking about things that upset him, but you weren't going to let yourself do the same.

"Hey, Gumby," you said, your tone a little too harsh as you approached him one morning.

He had taken his shirt off due to the incredulous heat index of the day, and it was only ten in the morning. He turned as soon as he heard your voice. "Hm?"

"Do you have feelings for me?" you questioned. You weren't going to sugarcoat anything. You wanted the answers as straightforward as possible.

Luke released his grip on the handle of the nozzle. "What?" His eyes had widened slightly, and if he hadn't already been red due to the heat, you would have assumed the question made him blush.

"Do you like me? Are you into me? Would you fuck me? Just let me know."

He blinked rapidly. "Why are you asking all of this?"

You shrugged, but you knew why you were asking all of this. You let out a laugh before you continued. "Because you fucking kissed me, you dumbfuck. You kissed me twice, and that was it! You've hardly talked to me since. Were you just doing it because you knew I liked you? Or do you actually fucking like me back?"

Luke dropped the hose and ambled towards you, his long legs taking him to you in under a second. Both of his hands grabbed hold of your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss grew heated in a matter of milliseconds. His tongue slipped in between your lips before you could register what had even happened. You felt warm all over, and it wasn't because of the hot air.

His lips left yours a moment later, slipping away with a filthy pop before he began kissing along your cheeks and forehead.

"What does this mean?" you whispered lowly and gripped his wrists loosely.

Luke retracted, looking right into your eyes so he could say exactly what he wanted. "It means I like you back," he responded. He swallowed thickly and pressed another quick kiss to your lips. "And, I'm bad at feelings," he whispered, "so I'm sorry I did that to you. 'm really sorry."

His hands found your waist as he started kissing you again. You wound your fingers in his long blond curls, not even worrying about how sweaty they might be. You couldn't find it in yourself to worry about anything but how well you were kissing him. Your lips were numb as he pulled away again, and you found yourself glancing down at his exposed chest so you wouldn't have to look into his eyes.

You were too giddy, but looking at the hairs on his chest was not helping your case one bit.

Suddenly, Luke was bending over and reaching for the hose, quickly turning it back on and spraying you like had done a week or two prior. His loud giggles filled the air, and even though you were screaming for dear life, you had never felt happier.

[dlamp-dictator]

Allen Rambles about Dusk Diver

I finished playing Dusk Diver, a small beat-em-up by JFI Games. I originally played it because it was on sale, I’ve had my eye on it for a few months now, and I needed a break from DMC5 for a bit. And boy do I have some thoughts about it now that I’m done with the game. Namely a bunch of nitpicks, but... we’ll get there in time. 

But as always, let’s start with that Synopsis.

Dusk Diver takes place in the Ximending district of Taipei, Taiwan. The story focuses on Yumo Yang, a Taiwanese high school senior that got caught up in a spiritual adventure over her summer vacation. While out with her friend she was randomly pulled into the alternate dimension of phantoms and demons. Before she was about to get killed by one a local loin god protects Yumo by (accidentally) transferring his powers to her. After she fends off the phantoms she decides to help clean her city of phantoms over summer break with the god’s help, along with the help of his eccentric and frugal boss... Boss. 

The plot takes off from there as Yumo pummels phantoms, gains allies, brightens up her town, and learns more about why the phantom and human realms are colliding. I gotta’ say, it’s nice to actually write the synopsis without having to either look at wiki article or outright copy it. This game is very simple for both good and ill. 

So... what do I think of this game? 

Well, unlike Assassins Pride I’ll be going over the bad first and then try to end on a high note, since for all my issues and nitpicks I did enjoy this game very much.

With that said, let’s start with...

The Bad

The Localization

So the localization is very similar to Under Night In-Birth Late[st] in that it feels very unfinished. When I talked about Under Night’s localization I was a little too harsh on it for my current liking and I’ll use Dusk Diver to explain myself a bit better.

Dusk Diver’s localization isn’t bad. I played this game listening to the Taiwanese dub and nothing sounded too off, but the script, the actual words on the screen, were rife with spelling and grammar errors, inconsistent terminology, and even moments where you could read the actual code of the game in the text. This the translation was either rushed, or it didn’t have enough time to really finish it, which makes it feel really sloppy. The said thing is that this game does have a rather charming script despite this, but reading all those errors and trying to correct them in your head can be... annoying.

The RPG Elements

So... this game is a beat-em-up that revolves around doing large combos and keeping up a hit counter to get higher drops of health, SP, TP, and other resources. The main goal of combat is to get combos going, collect SP and TP, and use those to do more damage to the enemies. 

So why is there an RPG level up system in this game?

I still have a lot of DMC5′s mechanics ingrained in me, so forgive me if this sounds pushy, but in most hack-and-slash/beat-em-up style games tacking on an RPG-style upgrade system only slows down the overall gameplay. 

Let me explain. Every time you complete a level for the first time you gain skill points. You use those points to improve your HP, SP, attack, etc.. This doesn’t feel good to do for this style of gameplay. In most beat-em-ups/hack-and-slash games skill points and similar currency are typically used for new moves or special abilities. DMC5′s red orbs are for new moves, Nero’s devil arms, and a limited amount of health and devil trigger increases. Senran Kagura uses its currency for costumes, accessories, and music, with the mere act of leveling up giving you higher bases automatically and more moves when you reach a certain level that proves you’re familiar enough with your current moveset to expand it. Solely making the numbers of damage and health go up doesn’t make you feel more powerful, it makes you feel like you can just handle the enemies that have gotten a lot more health and do a lot more damage for no reason other than slowing down the gameplay. I’ll save my recommendations for later, but the quick version is that the skill points should be used for more moves, more SP, and Drive duration only, as health and attack feel really arbitrary points to tack on for this style of gameplay.

The Platform/Alternate Gameplay Modes

Not often and namely during side missions for the Boss, but sometimes you have to do platforming segments and reach a certain point on the map and defeat some enemies.

They’re terrible.

Much like Devil May Cry, movement, jumping, and generally getting around feels fine save for me wishing Yumo’s run speed a bit faster. However, precise jumping and general platforming just don’t work. I don’t believe there’s a drop shadow in this game, the jumping itself has much different momentum when trying to maneuver in the air, making some moving platforms a pain to reach, and while the platforms themselves are rather large, the moving platforms go too slow compared to a lot of the fast-paced combat, making it a painstaking wait to get to the next fight.

Again, like DMC, this most platform this game should have is fighting on rooftops. In fact, I believe in the second or third mission you did have to traverse rooftops and it was actually pretty fun. Like I said, the platforms are usually wide enough that even with the wonky jumping it’s not a pain and getting to a higher point on the map and seeing the overall scenery is... nice. 

It’s just when you want me to pull off jumps like this is a Mario game is when things get dicey.

But those are all the big issues down, or at least my top three so...

Smaller Issues that Bug Allen

Like I said, I have more nitpicks than actual problems with this game. The game itself is a fine 10-15 hour experience, but there are several smaller issues that just pile up as you play it. It shouldn’t take you out of the game, but they did frustrate me a little. With that said though:

The minimap needs an ability to mark sidequests, it’ll make for a lot less backtracking and random pausing to look at the map and see where I need to go. I understand that this game is a more or less faithful for recreation of the Ximending district, but for non-locals playing this game like me finding locations is rather difficult. 

Since this game has visual novel styled cutscenes it’d be nice to have a log button to backtrack conversations just in case you skim over some important dialogue.

On that note, an option to control the speed of the text would be great as well, as I didn’t see one in there initially.

Cutscene Skip Button. It’s annoying to do the hard mode of these stages and having replay cutscenes I’ve already seen. Especially when I’m just hunting for Dragon Vein Shards.

Dragon Vein Shards should be tied solely to upgrades, as using them for plot advancement only adds to the grind... or so I would say if not for me have twice as many of the shards needed for progression every time. Again, I’ll go more in depth when I talk about my desires in a sequel, but for now I’ll just say these items should either be for leveling up or as a sort of collectible.

I’d like the rank system to be more like DMC, tying clear time, damage taken, max combo, and things like all together so that the end goal isn’t just to speedrun a stage for the S-rank.

Can the menu option be mapped to the triangle button like every other game? It kept throwing me off when I tried to pull up the map.

There doesn’t need to be a small cinematic when you do certain guardian attacks. It locks Yumo in place and has a real high chance to miss its target save for bosses.

It’d be best to map items to the buttons instead of the d-pad, as it kept tripping me up when I was trying to heal. 

I think that’s it for the major nitpicks, so let’s move onto the the good stuff.

The Good

Story and Theme

The story of Dusk Diver is simple, but effective. You go around saving the district by fighting monsters, you see how those monsters effect the district in each arc, and you solve the problem, usually getting an ally along the way. The few people that are aware of your secret job as a magical martial arts girl, usually the elderly or spiritually attuned, are very supportive toward Yumo. 

The game has an overall light, encouraging tone. It wants you to love the city as much as Yumo and Leo do, and it works. All of your side missions have you help out the locals in some way and you gain increased power for the super mode. You work at a convenience store, you partner with the local gods and guardians. Everything you do reinforces the idea of protect, preserving, and understand the town you live in. Yumo gets bonus dragon shard veins by frequently eating at local restaurants and becoming a regular. You help tourists out finding places to visit. You help an elderly man by taking photos of his old stomping grounds and he reminisces on what those old buildings were originally for. You help a coffee shop for free drinks. The list goes on, but a lot of the game reinforces this theme of community and loving the town do so much in. This is a very comfy game despite all the action of bashing demons and phantoms.

Characters

While simple, Yumo as a character is a very cheery girl that just wants to help others. She’s a bit annoyed at being forced to help at first, but she is someone that’s helpful at heart. And seeing her want to protect her friends and town is genuinely heartwarming. 

Plus, I really like her design. I’ve always been a fan of simple street clothes, and black with yellow highlights will always sell me on a character. 

Your guardians are pretty fun too. Leo’s knowledge of the city and desire to help others really gives him a cool grandpa vibe. Bahet’s a quiet and encouraging guy with a noble background despite his punk fashion. Le Viada is a model with a complex around her age and big sister mentality, the list goes on. Again, these characters are simple, but effective.

Gameplay

While I did have my nitpicks, the gameplay is solid beat-em-up action. Light and heavy attacks with the occasional use of the the guardians. And each guardian has a special ability with their damage. Leo can do massive damage to enemy shields, getting rid of them in one or two shots with his more powerful moves. Bahet can slowly chip away at an enemy with his scythe’s poison effect. Le Viada’s guns can outright ignore enemy armor and punch through it, as well as lay down traps, and... there’s a fourth guardian for when you beat the game. I won’t spoil it, but they’re basically a turret that stays in one place while you summor your other guardians, making her unique as you can’t usually summon two guardians at a time. And like I said before, aiming and lining up certain attacks can be a bit unwieldy since some moves playcinematics that lock you in place, but it’s overall fun. Racking up combos, using big AoE moves, it all feels great.

And with all of that out of the way.

Wishes for the Future

Much like in my Fire Emblem rambling I don’t like the idea of correcting a story or game that’s already been finished, but I find no issue with discussing what I want for the future. And I really thing this game can have a sequel. The game states that Yumo isn’t the first person in recent time with latent spiritual powers, or that this is the first time that the phantom and human realms became loose. And hell, Yumo is still someone that wants to protect her town, so it’d be easy to make a game in another area of Taipei that’s gone out of whack, or even give the reins to someone else. And I do want a sequel. 

Like I said, my main issue with this game are some nitpicks that could honestly be fixed with a patch or a two-month delay. If this game sold well enough to get a sequel I’d buy it. 

That said, here are a few things I’d like to see in that hypothetical sequel. Such as...

Rankings

A lot of these are going to be taking a page from DMC since I was taking a break from DMC5 to play this, but the ranks shouldn’t be tied solely to clear time. That just makes people speedrun the stage and miss Dragon Veins. Having rank linked to time, combos, hits taken, and so on would give you some breathing room when you try and explore a stage, as you wouldn’t be punished for being curious. You’d still need to be quick, but you won’t be completely screwed either.

Leveling Up

Leveling up give you skill points that you can stick into your health, SP, attack, super mode duration, just dodge duration, luck, and moves. This game shouldn’t give attack or health for skill points. This is just my belief with design, but beat-em-ups shouldn’t just jack up the health of normal enemies as you get stronger, instead just giving us tougher enemies with different patterns of attack. The game already does this with some success, so those slots that increase health and attack seem pointless. You get skill points when you complete a stage for the first time, or find dragon vein shards. This... really puts a lot of pressure on the kinds of skills you upgrade, and while I’m not against that it does make this very light-hearted oddly restricting as you debate what to upgrade. I’d recommend using those dragon vein shards solely to level up instead of for story progression as well. With each upgrade costing more and more dragon veins as you increase your stats. In this first game you can collect over 150 dragon veins. You only need 50 to complete the story mode, and I had about 75 by the time I reached the final mission. 

I know some people struggled to grab them, but... I didn’t, so... maybe have the veins do something else than gate story progression.

Post Game Activities

If we are going to have a post game to finish up some side quests for 100%, then we might as well have some extra things to do too. 

Oh right, I never mentioned that yet.

Yeah, once you beat the game you’re essentially in a free-run mode to finish some leftover side quests and do a few extra things you might have missed, but... I finished all the side quests before the final story, so I was left with just finishing some hard-mode missions and finishing up my upgrade tree. That said, if there is going to be a post game here’s a few ideas:

Survival Mode where you fight waves of enemies. Some akin to a Bloody Palace Mode where you can compete for a high score among friends and online.

Post Game dungeons that are hard as hell, this could be DLC if you wanted as I wouldn’t mind paying for more content like this.

Extra moves/skills. Yumo’s moveset is rather small compared to DMC and Senran Kagura. If we’re going to have just one character to play as then I’d rather have a complex character that takes awhile to learn than an easy one where I’m spamming the same moves over and over... or give us more characters to play as with equally simple movesets.

That’s really it. The game overall is fun with it’s only real flaw being a rather short game for 35 bucks. Like I said, either some DLC or a sequel would make me feel better about recommend this one, but if you want a fun, short beat-em-up game then this is out on steam, PS4, and the Switch. Feel free to get... though I’d recommend waiting for a sale.

In any case, back to DMC5 for me.

[theswiftarmy]

#19 - 6000 Headphones, 12 Mobile Phones, SOO Many Shoes, And An Earworm Inside The Biebs’ Head

What better way to fight a war than with love?  And what better way to rule the world than with love?  Because how do you fight back against love?  How do you?  What’s that lawn sign?  Love trumps hate—Or, what did Taylor say?  Hater’s gonna hate (hate x3), is my math right on that?  How many times does Taylor say the word hate in Shake It Off?  Or, if you live in the south, Gators gonna gait….  Get it?  Because there are gators always walking around in the south and the word gait is another word for how a person walks, although, I don’t know if it can be applied to an alligator walking around because I’m pretty sure they crawl instead of walk.  Although, perhaps one might describe alligators as slithering around like snakes, then again, if you ask a snake, they’ll be like… WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?  Alligators don’t slither, don’t even try to steal my mode of mobility, they saunter, and maybe alligators do saunter about.  But, let’s just pretend alligators gait, because it rhymes with haters gonna hate.  There’s a lot of pretending going on in this story.  Just remember that, play pretend and you’ll follow along just fine.

           Stay with me here for a quick second and a hot minute before I get back to the story—suppose that this Elvis sound were real, obviously it’s not because it’s just a story and not real, remember we’re just playing pretend, unless… it IS real and I’m coincidentally writing fiction about something that DOES happens to be real, I just don’t happen to know that it is real, I suppose there’s always that highly unlikely scenario—but just for a moment, let your imagination run wild and really think about it.  Back in the day when Rock and Roll first came into existence it changed the world, or so I’ve been told, it changed everyone who encountered it, again, not from personal experience, just what I’ve been told, the groove made you move, brought people together in a new and different way.  It’s hard to know what that experience was like if you didn’t live through it, especially since it’s all part of our society and history nowadays.  But, there was a time before it existed when no one even knew something like it could exist, and then ears at the time were infected with infectious melodies that they couldn’t get enough of, they hungered for more of this new and incredible musical genre, of course it wouldn’t be the last time a new genre was created and ears hungered for more.

But an interesting side effect of it all was that it created cultural icons, as the new genres continue to do.  It created idols, you know, like those with the first name of Billy, it created nice days for white weddings, and to start again.  And of course, these days there’s a new Billie in idol town, but I’ll get to why I bring her up later on.

Early rock stars and pop icons became immortalized, living on long after death, they’re gods and goddesses, a new era of decorated war heros or royals, as Lorde so eloquently put it, the weapon of choice a microphone or a guitar, or maybe both, or sometimes a keyboard, or a plethora of other instruments, insert instrument of choice here, maybe even a ukulele!  Mostly, though, early on the rock and roll army was a guitarmy.

These rock gods and goddesses all image and no human being, especially true of those who are no longer with us, the human being may be gone, but the image lives on, and we still look up to those who can sing and dance and gel their hair back in slick new ways.  Fantastic fashion abound, and the preferred weapons around, like I said, musical instruments, maybe some guitars, and guitar solos the ammunition.  Some would argue, not me, but some would say that’s what has gone wrong in our modern society, we mourn the loss of great guitar solos from these songs at the top of the charts.  

Could one correlate a graph with a rise in violence directly inversely correlated with solos in rock music?  Maybe.  But anyone can correlate anything if you tried hard enough, which is the point here, like fictionally connecting modern day Billy Porter in Taylor Swift’s music video for You Need To Calm Down, to back in the day Bill Porter, the sound engineer with the golden ear that recorded with Elvis in The Sixties.  But it does seem as though the guitar solo has been quietly replaced, those wailing solos instead becoming a bank of samples on which most music is now based.  Samples upon samples spliced in and layered over top of loops and mashed together with other samples and loops, but where did the samples originate?  So many musicians use samples in music without knowing anything about their origin.  It’s the wild west of sampling.  Anything that sounds good can be put in a beat or a hook.  And of course top it off with “The Drop”.  Ah yes, The Drop—the silence before a storm of melody, and perhaps that silence is what does it, what makes you anticipate the hook, what makes you addicted to the noise.  It sucks you in, and holds your ears hostage, note after note after note.  Making it so hard to turn the song off, we simply can’t get enough of the stuff.

           Suppose the sound were real though, go all in with suspension of disbelief, and samples upon samples of it were layered into songs you listen to, some of your favorite songs of all time, the ones you can’t get enough of and press repeat again, and again, exposing your ears over and over to the sound… Changing your brainwaves and playing with your mind and emotions… each new track artists put out an even more potent version to pull fans in, the only choice the fans have is to follow, unable to break away from the influence of our favorite icons and idols as we hang on their every word.  I mean, is it so absurd?  We continue to break streaming records, sell out stadiums, and fans are willing to fight for the right for their favorite artist to part ways with a record label, if you were an artist or a band, and in the market for fans, wouldn’t you sign up for it too?  What’s the harm in a little bit of sugar and spice to make everything already nice… Well, even more so, maybe twice or thrice that spice?  

And is it really all that hard to believe?  How many times have you pushed the back button on a song and listened to it again, a third time, a fifth time in a row?  How many times have you done something you wouldn’t normally have done because of a song?  How many times have you turned yourself around because a song changed your mood or mind, or your heart, asked someone to dance, or texted someone you probably wouldn’t have texted because of a tune you heard playing out on the town, or while shopping, or a song playing in a movie or TV show—how many times was just hearing the slightest snippet of a certain song taken as a sign and changed the course of your entire life?  I’m willing to bet more than a few of you out there just raised your hand.

Oak Felder finished making another point, “…but all that is lost to history and now pop stars are using it to control their fans.”

“Lure them in with love.”  Ariana said smiling.  “I mean, it works!”

“This is like, really blowing my mind right now.”  Scooter said.  “This just keeps getting even crazier!  It’s like, be careful what music you listen to because you have no idea what might happen to your mind…”

Scott reminded Scooter.  “And especially in Justin’s case, yeah—because his mind could be wiped if he hears the wrong song while he’s earwormed.”

Oak looked over at Pop, “Well, hold on to your seat, Scooter, because I found something else noteworthy!  We took Ariana’s suggestion to Shazam the sound, and—though I didn’t exactly do that—while we were analyzing it last night I did extract the sonic footprint of it, and Pop here was able to cross reference the footprint against the Shazam database in its entirety.”

“Yeah?”  Scooter responded, bracing for something extremely mind numbing.

“It seems as though Scott’s mystery Porter Pyramid noise, AKA ‘The Elvis Egg’ sound, may be in a lot more music than we thought.  It seems to show up across the Shazam library as small bits and pieces, or as these small pieces of music are more commonly referred to as, samples.”

“Wait, you mean sampling?”  Justin said, sitting again beside Ariana Grande but this time in a small but fun looking and colorfully designed IKEA-esk chair right beside the oversized beanbag chair, since Ariana had already called perpetual fivesies on the bean chair Justin had to find a new seat from the last time the group was in the studio.  Fivesies, for those not in the loop mean you have a claim to your seat after getting up, but that claim lasts for no more and no less than five minutes.  Although some people don’t always adhere to the rule, I won’t name names, but you know who you are.  Was that ten years ago?  Yes.  Am I still bitter?  That was my seat and you know it—Whatever, I’m allowed to be upset, how could anyone reading this possibly know what it’s like to have something that used to be yours suddenly in the possession of someone else.  It was mine, and then all of a sudden someone else is sitting on it, and wouldn’t let me have what was rightfully mine—even after I called fivesies!  It’s frustrating when someone takes something that was yours.  I mean, Taylor gets it, she called Fivesies on her back catalog of recordings and someone else, I won’t name names, totally took it from her.  Sorry, I digress, I’ll get back to the story—I’m in one of those writer’s moods, if you couldn’t tell.

Oak responded very matter-of-factly.  “That’s right Justin, sampling.  You know it as beats, grooves, drum breaks, horn sounds, and guitar riffs, just to name a few examples.  Most listeners have no idea that the original source of the sounds isn’t a direct recording, but a mashed up copy of a copy of a copy, sometimes many times over.”

“So, does that mean there are bad samples in music?” Ariana said swooping in and stealing the response directed at Justin—maybe you should have called fivesies on the convo, Justin.

Scooter scooted into the conversation too, taking some response time as well, being that it was there for the taking, like how Taylor’s masters were, so why not?  Why buy a vowel when you can buy an entire sentence in the form of a question, “What, like, you’re telling me that music is infected?  How?  Is it all music?”

That was three questions Scooter; you were only supposed to have asked one, you only bought one question, not three.

“No, not all music.  Just certain samples—“ Pop Wansel replied very Goldblum-y.  It was his turn to be Jeff.  Everyone gets to be Jeff Goldblum at least once and you can’t call fivesies on being Jeff Goldblum, only Jeff himself can do that.

Oak leaned forward in his Spaceship command chair.  “What’s the most sampled song of all time?  Does anyone know?”

“Umm…”  They all unknowingly blinked their eyes in the same cadence of the Capitol Records light and shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders, Justin’s cats moved their tails back and forth as they sat sleepily on the laps of two humans in the room, I’m not at liberty to disclose which two laps the cats sat upon, but they sat on two laps.  No fivesies were called, cats don’t need fivesies, they just sit wherever they please.

“No one knows the answer?  Well, the year was 1969.  A funk soul band named The Winstons released a single called ‘Color Him Father’.  The B side of that record contained a funked up version of a gospel song named ‘Amen, Brother’.  Now, of course, Color Him Father would win a Grammy for best R and B song after hitting number seven on the Billboard hot 100 charts, but the B side to that record?  Well, no one really paid it much attention for years… Eventually it would become the most sampled drum break in all music, it’s called the ‘Amen Break’.  It was first added to a compilation named Ultimate Breaks and Beats, which was popular with Hip Hop producers and DJs during the early days of Hip Hop.  The breakthrough hit Straight Outta Compton by N.W.A. most likely propelled it into the mainstream, Straight Outta Compton contained a slowed down looped version of the Amen Break in its entirety, although it was used on other songs at the time as well.  I believe the first track to sample it was I Desire by Salt-N-Pepa.  Eventually it was broken apart, spliced up, and bits and piece of it were used in thousands of songs.”

“So, are you saying sampling is bad?”  The lawyer asked, his red pen poised and ready to make a new note on his notepad.

“No.  Oh, of course not.  There are a lot of great songs that contain samples, but as with any tool, or invention, it’s in the way that you use it, like Eric Clapton says.  Same is true with any sign, or symbol, or any product of a culture, or subculture, it’s the way you use it, or more importantly, what meaning becomes attached.  Musically speaking, it’s about what hooks on to those catchy hooks.  Brands are a whole other ballgame and a conversation for another time—Sometimes just by wearing a certain brand, or putting a sticker on the bumper of your car, you can say a lot about what you stand for, without using any words at all.  Without going really deep into the meaning of life, for whatever reason we humans have a way of creating things that represent the good in the world, the bad in the world, and additionally, the indifferent—or one point of view over another—like I said, conversation for another time.  But the meanings shift, something that had absolutely no real meaning can become a symbol of power, or a movement.  A heart symbol could say love, but it could be a declaration of war depending on the context and who sends it to you.  How many individuals took a knee before Colin Kaepernick did?  Did the gesture of taking a knee change in its meaning after Colin did it?  How about when Nike made a deal with Colin, how did that change the meaning of the Nike symbol?  I’m going to let you think about the answers to those questions.  Music, brands, gestures, bumper stickers are simply what they are, but in the context of society and culture in a specific place and time the meaning can be so much more.  Music isn’t just music, it’s so much more.  Every person will tell you his or her personal attachment to any song, and it can be a shared experience, or a singular one.  I’m sure we can all think of a song that takes us back in time, and maybe it’s a memory you share with millions, or an experience only you know about.  Humans have a tendency not to start out making anything to be a symbol of a moment, that usually happens later on, we make things, usually with the best of intentions, but sometimes just because it’s something that we are passionate about, what starts out as innocent, or cool, or just something to do, can become a beacon of hope, in the right hands, or a nightmare down the road should it fall into the wrong hands.  The future of anything can’t be predicted.  Rock and Roll had a start with a small group of musicians who probably didn’t even know it was Rock and Roll at the time, and that it would eventually spread through the entire world.  The Amen Break started with one single drummer Gregory C. Coleman, and later would be used in thousands of songs.”

“And that’s causing this war with the Swifities?  The war with Taylor?”  An Arianator asked.

“We aren’t at war with Taylor…” Oak replied, his tone of voice turning very serious, “We’re at war with an unfortunate scenario.  Taylor isn’t fighting a war because she wants to, she’s fighting it because she needs to.  It’s not her fault, she’s a victim of circumstance... as so many other innocent people on this planet have been and continue to be.”

Scott grabbed his share of the conversation as well, “Trouble’s gonna follow where she goes…”

Oak took it back, “Trouble follows us all, we are all victims of circumstance.  And we’re all fighting wars made of personal battles.  Just some of us more than others.”

“She’s a victim of her own music holding her hostage, like how I’m a victim of this earworm in my head.”  Justin said solemnly.

Ariana turned to Justin sitting beside her, “Since you don’t want to talk about what happened, I may be out of place by saying this, and I hate to have to say this Justin, but if you hadn’t broken up with Selena like twenty times, you might not have her earworm in your head right now.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”  Justin said back.

Ariana stifled a growl of frustration with her hands, turning her attention to Oak instead.  “So we’re fighting to free Taylor from her old masters?  Or specifically, from that egg sound—from samples used… We’re fighting for her, not against her?”  Ariana asked for clarification.  She reached for her phone in her pocket and gave it a squeeze.  With the masters tracks back in Taylor’s hands, she now held the only recording of the easter egg track should they need it.  She decided to keep its existence a secret.  If they found out they may take it from her.  For a minute she felt a rush of power wash over her, like some energy from the past or another dimension was trying to come to her and take over.  The power pulsed through her for a brief moment, chills down her spine, before she was able to push back against whatever it was creating the rush inside her.

“As long as I still get to own her.” Scooter said, “I mean, own her old masters, sorry, that’s what I meant.  A deal is a deal and I bought them fair and square.”

Everyone glowered at Scooter.

“What?  I mean, after this is all over of course.”

Everyone continued to glower.

“Why am I the bad guy in this?”

Flower power was big in the 60s, but in these modern times glower power is where it is at.

“Okay FINE, once this is over I’ll work with her to figure out a way for her to buy back her masters, or something.”

Glower power for the win.

Scooter uncrossed his fingers from behind his back.  You sly devil you.

“The Elvis egg sound isn’t good or bad in itself, just like The Amen Break isn’t good or bad, Rock and Roll and Hip Hop are music, but to paraphrase Clapton, it’s in the way that she’s using it.  See the egg sound in itself makes you feel trippy; Which makes sense, it’s from the 60s.  The Elvis egg sound is from the start of the decade, and the Amen Break is from the end of the decade.  The egg sound makes you feel good.  But, as we’ve come to learn, when it interacts with specific sound samples, such as The Amen Break—that’s when you get… Well, it seems you get side effects.  But those side effects used in a specific manner, like what was done to Justin here, can be used as a weapon—” Oak told them as much as they needed to know.  It’s a bit like when scientists first invented the atom bomb, too much knowledge about something with that much power can be dangerous.  Musical genres have more power and are more influential than anyone could possibly fathom.  “It’s a weapon of war.”  He said plainly.

“That’s where the earworm came from.  You combine specific samples together… and anything is possible.  It can be used to push viral content, or addict and hook fans, or you can disarm your opponents, make them unable to fight back.”  Pop clarified for the ears in the room.  “When you combine new and old samples, things get really tricky.  Take, umm… Old Town Road, for example, that song took off seemingly overnight, but why?”

“Well it obviously took off because of me when I shared it on social media for all my Beliebers.”  Justin said. He tried to sing the song and do the dance… “Gonna take my love to the love love road to love love, I needed to lose you to love me… “  He stopped trying and sat there lost inside his head again.

“That’s not quite how it goes, but I’m fascinated by the mashup of music going on in your head.  Does anyone else want to comment on the song, does anyone know the origin of the track used behind the vocals?”  Oak asked.

“Didn’t he just find it online, Soundcloud, or YouTube or something, and then… Lay down his vocals over it?”  One of the Arianators offered.

“No, I think he bought it from a beats site for 30 bucks.  Wait, let me Google it.  Okay, it says here ‘The hook was originally purchased for $30 on BeatStars, a rap-focused beats marketplace.’ That’s cool.”  The other Arianator replied back.

           Oak stepped in, his voice soothing and constructive, “Well, so the original sample in Old Town Road is actually a Nine Inch Nails song named 34 Ghosts IV.  And it was placed over a trap beat and posted online for sale by a Dutch teenager Kiowa Roukema, who also goes by ‘Young Kio’.  Now, when you consider the entire Old Town Road song together in final form you have various tracks recorded at various times and places using various microphones and instruments, and other recording equipment including effects processors and such.  Each individual sound recording and sample was layered on top of one another, even the original sound sample from Nine Inch Nails had already been mastered, yet it was mastered again when it was posted for sale as a beat, and then mastered another time when Lil Nas X posted his version online, then the remix was mastered yet again.  It’s like Scooter said, an omlette of eggs.  If any piece of it contains the egg sound, you have a very complex variation of the original sounds that has been manipulated and mangled many times over with every sub master, the same has happened over the years with The Amen Break.  For all we know the Amen Break could be in that song, as there isn’t a clear source of every sample used to make the trap beat.  It’s a potent mix that when played into someone’s ear can have some very strange effects—”

           “Love love… To love love… I needed to lose you to love me… Dammit Selena!  Get out of my head!”  Justin erupted cutting off the conversation.  “It’s GETTING WORSE!”  He shouted then kneeled down on the floor holding his head between his hands he hummed Selena Gomez’s song Lose You To Love Me, softly at first, then yelled out, “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”  He started to cry, just for a few tears, before wiping them away and sprawling out on the floor looking up at the ceiling fan.  His tears of anguish continued, flowing from his eyes and running down his cheeks.  “I give up.” He said quietly, his lower lip quivering.  “I can’t stop hearing it.  It’s just there on repeat—over and over again.  I just give up.  I want it to stop.  Make it stop.  I can’t take it anymore!  I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!  SELINA GOMEZ MAKE IT STOP!!!  I WANT OUT OF THIS!  I DON’T WANT YOU IN MY HEAD ANYMORE!!!”

“Oak you gotta help him.  Can’t you do anything?”  Ariana begged rushing to Justin’s side.

           Oak looked over at Pop.  They nodded to one another.  Justin couldn’t wait any longer.

           Pop got up and walked over to a Star Wars movie poster on the wall.  He turned around and held his hand out, Oak tossed the replica light saber at him, Pop caught it without flinching and then stood in front of the poster mimicking the stance of Skywalker.

           The poster began to roll up revealing a door.

           “No way!”  Scooter gasped.  “What the?”

           Oak smiled.  “Shall we?”

           Ariana helped Justin up and walked with him.  Her two Arianators rushed over to help carry him.

           Everyone walked over to the doorway previously hidden behind the poster and one by one they walked through it.

           The doorway led into a passageway that resembled the engine room of a spaceship—It was something out of every movie you’ve ever seen that takes place in space.  Hidden LED lights glowed spreading a soft even light, a blue hue that matched a humming sound, the engines of the spaceship.

           Oak Felder and Pop Wansel piloted the crew through the copious amount of twists and turns.  Several times forks in the tunnel shot off to the left or right of them.

           “How much money did it cost you to build this?”  The lawyer asked at one point.  Oak didn’t answer until they reached their final destination.

           “I didn’t build it for me, it was initially my wife’s extended shoe closet for shoe’s she refused to throw out, even though she knew she would never wear them again.”

           Scooter laughed.  “My wife would be jealous, her shoe collection is taking over the house!  I used to think ‘why would you keep shoes if you’re never going to wear them again?’  Ah, I was so young and naive.  I know better now.  But why?  Why so many shoes!”

Ariana responded “It’s just a thing.  It’s like keeping photos, memories of the past.  Also, you never know, there MIGHT be an occasion when you need that EXACT shoe!  And then if you had previously owned that pair and thrown them out you’d be kicking yourself.  Also, if you can afford that many shoes, why not spoil yourself? Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em, they say, ‘Which one?’ I say, ‘Nah, I want all of 'em’, happiness is the same price as red-bottoms.”

Oak stopped the group at a large door.  The door glowed amber around the edges outlining its silhouette.  He pulled out a key.  He inserted the key and turned the key clockwise.  While still holding the key in its turned position he pressed a large button, the first few seconds of a song began to play then it stopped.  He named the artist and the song.  Another song played, then stopped, again he named the artist and the song speaking out loud towards the door.  This continued for three more songs, after which a sixth and final song played for a little longer than the first five.  It played long enough for a few song lyrics to be heard before stopping, he continued singing the next line picking up where the song left off.

A small display beside the key and button read, “You win this round of trivia tunes!”

With that the door opened.

“SO that’s how you’re soo good at the audio round when we go to trivia night.”  Ariana said jokingly.

“You got me.”

With that Oak ushered everyone through the door.

“Whoa!” Scott shouted out after the motion sensor lights turned from a low amber glow to a bright and cheerful yellow, fully illuminating the room.

Half the room was filled with rows upon rows of headphones—All different kinds, vintage, modern, big clunky over ear headphones, sleek new sport Bluetooth ear buds that slipped inside the ear, every different type anyone could possibly imagine, there were thousands upon thousands of headphones, the collection seemed to go on forever, endlessly.  The other half of the room was filled with an equal amount of shoes, which also seemed to go on forever.

“Yeah, my wife really likes shoes.  What’s that phrase?  Happy wife, happy life.  All those songwriter royalty checks mostly go to two things, new toys for the studio, and my wife.”

“Oak, I was saying whoa about the headphone collection, but the shoe collection is equally as impressive as well.” Scott scanned the room with his eyes. “How many headphones are in here Oak?”  Scott asked out of curiosity.

“Hmm, I’d say at least six thousand.  I’ve lost count.”

“Six thousand headphones!”

“I had more, but my wife made me get rid of some to make space to move more shoes in.”  He shrugged as if to silently say, what are you gonna do about it?  Nothing.  “Okay, let’s see what we can do for Justin.”

Oak held his finger in the air and wiggled it towards him indicating for the group to follow.  They walked down a few rows of headphones as though they were walking through the aisles in a headphone only thrift shop.  Headphones clung neatly to hooks as low as a few inches off the floor all the way to the ceiling three stories up.  Ladders like one might find in an old bookstore ran along the shelves for access to the upper levels.

Oak picked up one pair and handed the headphones to Justin.  They were super vintage, 70s or 80s maybe? Well worn, large and clunky.  He plugged the audio cable into the same device he had used to diagnose the earworm playing a sound through the headphones.  “How about that?”

Justin stood for a minute with the headphones on his head then shook his head no indicating that the worm was stronger than ever.  Taking the headphones off he handed them back to Oak.  They walked a to the end of an aisle then down another, “AH HAH!”  He took another pair off a hook.  This time the pair was Bluetooth capable modern and flashy, customizable and comfortable with an over the ear fit.  He carefully placed the headphones over Justin’s ears and tapped on the digital touch screen of the earworm device after syncing the Bluetooth connection. He cycled through various settings.

“Anything yet?”

“No.  I don’t think so.”  Justin shook his head, and then shifted the headphones to fit better.  Oak continued to tap through various settings.

“Wait!”  Justin smiled slightly.  “Go back!”

Oak tapped the screen again.

“There!  I mean, I can still hear it slightly, but it’s barely even noticeable just soft background music.  I can deal with it like this.  Whatever these headphones do, keep doing it.”

Oak searched for the right response, “Umm, well it’s complicated science, let’s just say they’re emitting a phase cancelation noise that is close to what the earworm sound is.”

“Works for me!”  Justin said in an upbeat voice.

Ariana high fived Oak and then low fived Justin.

           Just then the lawyer’s phone rang.  He walked away for privacy.  “Uh huh… Oh, interesting…”

           “That’s not good.”  Scott said staring at the lawyer.

           “How do you know?”  Scooter asked.

           Scott shook his head.  “He only says ‘oh, interesting…’ when it’s something bad.  He’ll never say anything is bad, just ‘interesting’.”

           “How does he get cell service down here?”  Oak asked.  “Even I don’t get cell service!”

           “With him, it’s better not to question such things, just accepted it.”  Scott replied.

           “Okay then.”  Oak said, backing off the subject.

           After the call ended Carl, the lawyer walked back over to the group.

“What is it?” Scott asked.

“Just got off the phone with… Well, I’m not at liberty to disclose who the caller was… but let’s just say they had an interesting piece of information.”

“And that information is?”  Scott said in a coaxing voice.

“Taylor is going to place the porter egg sound behind her song Lover during her performance tonight at the American Music Awards, she’s using the string arrangement as a guise.”

“She can’t do that, we have to stop that!”  Scooter screamed out.  The room fell silent aside from the humming of a few air ventilation fans.

“There may be a way.” Oak finally said, breaking the silence.  “It would require getting two specific individuals to join with us—we’ll need someone on the inside who can get access to the equipment in order to swap the sound a second time with a placebo track, and we need someone to interrupt Taylor Swift right before her speech, long enough to swap out that backing track she’s going to play during Lover.”

“I can think of two people who might be perfect.” Justin’s spirits were picking back up, he seemed to be closer to his old self and less distant.

“Who?”  Scott asked.

“Well, the insider will already be there… Billie Eilish.  We’ve been chill ever since Coachella, you remember, Ariana,” Ariana nodded, how could she forget Coachella.  Justin continued, “and of course more recently she let me record a vocal track on another version of her ‘Bad Guy’ single.  I’m pretty sure she hasn’t made an alliance with Taylor yet.  I know, I KNOW, I was wrong about Ed Sheeran, but I think we can trust Billie.”

“Okay, that would work.  What about the other person?  We need someone to interrupt Taylor before the song, we need someone who has experience, who can get it right, we’ll only get one shot at this…”

They glanced at each other, not saying a word.

Scooter smiled, “Anyone else thinking what I’m thinking?  There’s only one person with the skill and experience to interrupt Taylor Swift at precisely the right moment.”

“KANYE WEST!”  Everyone yelled together.

The helicopter blades spun up as the group climbed through the open doors.  Scott told his ‘Where we’re going we don’t need roads, because we’re in a helicopter!’ joke again.  Oak laughed.

“See, Oak gets my humor.”  Scott said, satisfied that his joke was finally a hit.

Sushi and Tuna could be seen sitting in a window of the house looking out.  They were to stay at the spaceship studio in the care of the Defenders just in case Taylor tried to make any further kitty cat kidnapping attempts.

Pop was the last to climb on board, a Defender handed him a large black duffle bag after he was safely inside the helicopter.  He then handed the bag to Oak.  Oak unzipped the bag to make sure the contents were all there, enough gold headphone cases for each one of them.  He passed the cases out.  “Don’t lose these.”  Oak instructed them.  “There’s a set of over ear Beats by Dre headphones, special grade custom made Solo Pro with Active Noise Cancelling technology.  They’re linked with an integrated communication system so we can communicate with each other.  Works up to five miles away in a mesh network, so as long as each one of us is within at least five miles of another person, we can all talk.  Battery runs off kinetic energy, as long as you’re breathing, the headphones will work.  Unfold them to turn on, fold them to turn off.  There’s one mode for active cancelation with communication and another pre programed mode matching Justin’s frequency in case you get earwormed.  We don’t know if they have one strain of the Gomez earworm, or multiple, but right now, it’s the best we have.  This does mean Justin won’t have communication with us through the headphones, someone’s going to have to stay with him should the need arise for us to use these.”

“What are these little ones?” Scooter asked picking a smaller set of ear buds from perfectly cut-to-shape spaces within the foam.  They sat snuggly inside the case beside the Beats Solo Pro headphones.

“Lookalike AirPods—although, they aren’t Apple, Taylor’s been handing out some kind of custom set to her Swifties, they call them SwiftPods.  These will work in a pinch to protect you from both the Swift sound, and possible exposure to an earworm, but they contain no communication and it’s hard to hear anyone trying to talk to you, the noise cancelation is complete and contains no filters.  They basically work like earplugs, but they look like SwiftPods so you won’t blow your cover in close proximity to a Swiftie.”

“We won’t be needing these,” Ariana grabbed Scooter’s case out of his hands and handed it back along with her own case.  “Can you drop Scooter and I off at LAX before we stop at Kanye’s house?  My private jet is waiting—we’ve got a show to make…”  She looked over at Scooter disapprovingly.

“Better do as she asks.”  Scooter said to everyone.

“But that’s out of the way!”  Scott exclaimed.  Ariana stared at him, her eyes piercing through him.  He quickly backtracked,  “Yeah, we can do that.  Sure thing, not a problem Ms. Grande.”  Scott said to her after looking to the lawyer and getting a nod of approval from the lawyer.

           “Will you two be alright out there?”  Oak asked.

           Scooter shrugged.

           “We’ll be fine.”  Ariana said in a decisively powerful tone.  “My Arianators will protect us from any Swifties if they try anything tricky, it’s Justin that you need to look out for, they’ve already used him twice in this war game, first with the kittynapping and then the earworm weapon, they’re likely to strike again to get to Scooter.”

           The helicopter lifted into the air headed first for LAX and then to Kanye West’s house.

[corpuscaiiosum]

Outbreak Delayed Chapter 1 A Telltale’s TWD fanfic

Lee Everett couldn’t still couldn’t quite believe the turn his life had taken.  He’d spent the last seven years of his life locked up in the Meriweather County Correctional Facility, and now, now he wasn’t.  Nearly a decade of appeals, a re-trial, and three different legal teams his sentence of second-degree murder had been commutate to involuntary manslaughter, his time had already been served.  Every penny he’d had was gone, some to his ex-wife, the rest to his legal defense, but he was a free man.

Prospects had been slim from the beginning, not many schools would hire the “Senator Slaughterer” as some publications had called him at the time of his first trail, and not wanting to live with his brother for any longer than he had to he began searching for jobs outside of his home state.  Truth be told with his marriage over, and both of his parents gone there was little to tie him to Georgia anymore, and all the reasons in the world to leave.  Eventually something came through.

Lee was sweeping the floor of the pharmacy his brother now ran when his phone began to ring.  He groaned at the possibility of another solicitor trying to sell him something he didn’t need, or help with student debt he no longer had, but still he answered with a resigned  

“Hello?”  There was no long pause however, nor did the voice on the other end of the line seem pre-recorded.

“Yes I’m looking for Mr. Everett, Lee Everett”  

“That’s me” Lee responded, and motioned to his brother he would be taking his call in the office.  “Can I ask what this is regarding?”  Hope rising in his chest.

“I very much hope so Mr. Everett.  My name is Richard Miller, you applied for a post with us through the “Scared Straight” program and I think you would be a marvelous fit for us.  We just lost one of our teachers, and would like to offer you the position.”  Lee listened intently as Miller listed out the details of the position, and while the salary and benefits weren’t as good as those he had enjoyed as a University Professor, it was a good deal better than his brother could offer.  That is how Lee Everett came to pack the few worldly possessions he owned into his parent’s old station-wagon, and began the long drive north to West Virginia.

For the most part the trip went well, with a few stops at historic civil war battle sites.  Less than a week later he was pulling up to the wide sealed up gate of the School tucked away in some backwoods, fairly far from any sizeable town.  He supposed that was intentional, less to distract the students.  

“Ericson’s Boarding school for Troubled Youths” He said aloud, reading plaque by the little door.  Through the metal bars he could see kids playing in the little courtyard between the gate and admin building.  From where he was sitting, they didn’t look troubled, most were laughing with one another, playing games or flipping through books.  Then like a chill wind was rolling in their smiles faltered, suddenly on edge.  Then he saw why.  A heavy-set man in his early 60’s was making his way down the small stone pathway, a powerful looking pitbull strolling comfortably at his side.  As he got closer Lee understood exactly what was going on.  That saccharinely cheerful smile, that smug shine behind the eyes, it was the same mask the warden wore when he made the rounds with his guards, aloof, above everyone around him and infinitely confident of his own importance.  

Lee felt as if his heart would drop into his stomach, immediately knowing this is the man he’d agreed to come work for, he pushed that feeling down however, it was better than prison.  He studied the high walls and arrogant headmaster again.  Better than prison, if not entirely different he decided.

Mr Everett. . .” The heavyset man began, plastered on smile still splitting his face as he motioned for a guard –his uniform said security, but Lee recognized a guard when he saw one- To open the gate. “. . .It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”  Lee shook his hand when he extended it, trying his best to match the man’s enthusiasm.

“Thank you sir, I’m just happy to have the opportunity.”  The headmaster nodded benevolently and turned motioning for Lee to follow him.  “This is Rosie, she’s a real sweetheart. . .most of the time.”  A nasty little chuckle escaped his lips before whistling to her “Give Mr Wallace here your keys he’ll park your car in the faculty lot.”  He said pointing to the security officer, who didn’t bother with the smile the way Miller did, rather just nodded begrudgingly as he handed the keys over.  

Lee’s smile became more genuine as he passed by the kids who despite their obvious fear of man leading the way peaked out the corners of their eyes at him.  Surreptitiously he waved at them, winking at a particularly shy looking boy with heavy burn scars on one side of his face who in turn smiled weakly back at him.  

“I’ll have you sign some paperwork then one of our students will show you around the grounds.”  The headmaster moved like a king surveying his kingdom, as he pointed out features of the school grounds.  “Over there is are the student dorms, on the other side we have the main classrooms, and the greenhouse around back.  Now since there’s only ever between 45 and 50 students here at Ericson each classroom is usually only comprised of roughly 10 or so students of similar age.  Seeing as you’re more used to college age students you’ll be overseeing our oldest group.  It’s quite the coop for us really, a man with a university professor’s qualifications, and first-hand experience going through the criminal justice system.  I really do think you’ll be a great benefit.”  Lee couldn’t help but find himself agreeing even as the headmaster blustered on, it was nothing short of miraculous that he wouldn’t be spendign the rest of his life behind bars, and if he could help some of these kids keep from making mistakes like his than the pay cut and move would be well worth it.

“So, have you found a place to live yet?” The headmaster asked as they ascended the stairs to his office, Rosie taking her place in a bed beside his desk.  Lee shook his head as he took a seat he was offered.  “There’s a nice little motel in town you could stay at until you get settled properly.”  The portly man slid some papers across the desk.  “Alright so there’s your documents, your legal waiver as you know some of the students can be a bit. . .much.” He said seriously.  “Releases us and the parents from liability if you sustain any injuries in the course of your duties.”  He went through signing after giving each paper a quick skim through.  “Wonderful.”  The larger man depressed a button on the intercom on his desk, his voice projected from speakers throughout the school.  “Ms. Montrose, please report to the headmaster’s office immediately.”  Over the next few minutes Lee asked questions about his responsibilities, the school in general and the local area, until there was a firm knock at the still open door.

Lee turned to find a girl of maybe sixteen, who would come maybe up to his chest if they stood face to face.  She had dark curly hair that went past her neck, pulled into a loose braid that was tugged through the back of a purple baseball cap, a large capital D sewn onto the front.  She had intense hazel eyes that seemed to take in, measure and asses everything in the room at a glance.  She wore a torn paor of jeans, actually torn, well-worn jeans, not purposefully distressed designer things, and a black shirt beneath a burgundy leather jacket.

“Ah, Ms. Montrose so nice of you join us.  This is our new teacher Mr. Everett, he’s from Georgia just like you.”  The strange girl raised an eyebrow at that and asked.

“What part?”

“Macon.” Lee responded still unsure what to make of her.  Then she smiled, and he couldn’t help but return the expression, uncertainty vanishing; he liked this girl.

“You?”  He asked and she crossed her arms, smile tugging itself into a smirk.  “Atlanta.”  Something in her accent, or maybe the way she carried herself told him that wasn’t exactly true, so he crossed his own and waited, not breaking eye contact.  She laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Fine I’m from just outside Atlanta, little suburb you’ve never heard of.” He laughed as well.  

“Ms. Montrose here will show you around, she’s one of our most imporved students, we don’t expect to see her back here next year.”  The headmaster adopted an expression Lee expected he thought would look fatherly, but came across as self-satisfied, as if he’d been the primary factor in her rehabilitation.  Lee stood, waved to the headmaster who was already filing away his paperwork, and stepped out the door, following after the girl.  

“So, do they not believe in first names around here?”  The girl shook her head.

“No Mr. Miller just likes to keep things “very formal.” She said doing a fair impression of the blustery man.  “I’m Clementine.” She stopped and turned to him extending her hand.

“Now who’s being “Very Formal.” Lee teased with his own impression.  They both laughed as they shook hands.  “Lee.” He said finally.

“Lee, I like it.” Clementine said matter-of-factly, then motioned for him to follow.  “So down there is the library.”  She said leading him down one of the halls leading out of the large foyer, the sound of a Piano drifting out from it.  “That’s Louis, he gets special permission to use the piano after classes if he manages to behave himself. . .it is very unusual to find him playing.  They entered the high ceiling room, it’s walls lined with books.  “Sometimes we have dances, or parent’s night in here.”  A lanky looking boy with dreads sat at the piano, fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys, on one of the couches a blonde boy flipped lazily through the pages of an ancient looking book.  The moment the boy at the piano saw the two of them walk in the song changed and a mischievous grin slipped onto his face.

“Oh my Darlin, Oh my Darlin, Oh my Darlin clementine. . .” Clementine rolled her eyes once again.

“You gotta do that everytime I walk in here?” The grin turned to a look of mock sorrow.

“Dreadful sorry, Clementine.”  He laughed, swung his legs around on the piano stool, and stood with a little hop.  “Every single time.”  His eyes swung to meet Lee’s for a moment then back to Clementine.  “New boyfriend?” Clementine sighed but Lee could tell the frustration was feigned, the two of them playing the parts they’d grown comfortable playing with each other.  

“This is our new Teacher, Lee Everett.  Lee, this is Louis, our resident class clown and music lover.  Over there is Marlon.” She motioned towards the boy on the couch, who raised his hand in a lazy wave, not looking up from his book.  

“He’s my muscle.” That raised hand lifted it’s middle finger, the owner apparently not caring that the new comer had been introduced as a teacher.

“Nice to meet you both, guess you’re going to be in my class, the headmaster said I’d be teaching the older students.”  Louis nodded.

“Looks like it, it’s about time they found someone to replace Mr. Andrews, he was really getting up there, had to be almost 90.”  

“93” Marlon corrected, still not looking up from his book.  “I remember stealing a piece of cake from his 83rd birthday party my first year.”  Lee swung his head sharply to look at the still reclined young man.  

“You’ve been coming here for ten years?  Is that normal?” He asked looking between Clementine and Louis, who shook his head.   “Nah not really, only a couple of us have been here that long, I got here the year after Marlon.  Other than us it’s just Violet, Ruby, the twins, and Mitch, we’re the staples that hold this place together.”  Louis said making an expansive gesture at the room around them.

“What he means is we’re the ones whose parents already gave up on them.”  The boy on the couch finally set the book down and stood.  “Nice to meet you teach, see ya in class.” Tucking hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket Marlon walked past them and made his way down the hall to the entrance.  

“Well isn’t a ball of fucking sunshine.” Lee said as Marlon walked out, then realized what he’d said, and was about to tell the others to ignore that when they both burst out laughing.  

“Oh we’re gonna get along just fine Lee.” Louis said patting his shoulder as the laughter died down.

“Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the school.” Clementine said leading him back the way they came, Louis taking his place at the piano once again.  For the next hour or so Clementine lead him through the school, through the hallways with the classrooms, into the dining hall, the nurses office, and then finally to the greenhouse.  When they entered a stout redheaded girl was tending to some of the plants while a thin woman with dark hair around his own age, in a white lab coat was setting tools away in one of the storage closets.  

“What do you want?” The redhead snapped upon seeing Clementine enter, then shrank back a little when Lee followed her in.  

“Ruby, this is Lee Everett he’s taking over for Mr. Andrews, I’m showing him around.  Lee this is Ms. Martin and Ruby, miss martin is our nurse, and sort of a botany teacher as well.”  Ruby relaxed, grinned and nodded emphatically.  

“She knows everything about plants, and herbs and stuff, and she’ll teach anyone who asks.”  Ms. Martin blushed at the compliments but puffed her chest out a little as she walked over to shake Lee’s hand.  

“Nice to meet you.” They both said in unison as they shook hands, then laughed, Lee scratching at the back of his head.  

“Regina Martin.” She said finally, offering her first name as they broke their grasp.  “I know a little about plants, and I don’t mind sharing what I know with some of the kids if they’re interested, like Ruby here, she’s my best student.”  Ruby beamed and Miss Martin flashed her a proud smile.  “If there’s anything you need be sure to let me know, I’m either in here or my office.”  Lee nodded and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow.  

“So all the teachers live in town?” Lee asked as Clementine moved to help a slightly disgruntled looking Ruby lock up the fertilizer and the rest of the gardening supplies as they spoke.

“Near enough, the headmaster has his own room in the admin building, and Wallace has cot in the security office, damn near lives on the grounds.”  Lee nodded

“Must really care about the kids.” Miss Martin giggled a little behind one hand.  

“You’d think that would you? More like he’s worried what they’d do to school without his watchful eye.”  Clementine and Ruby scoffed at that as they came back over.  Lee looked out one of the high windows of the greenhouse roof at the setting sun.  

“I think I should get going, not sure I can find my way back to town in the dark.”  All three of them adopted an incredulous look.

“You don’t have GPS?” Clementine asked and Lee felt his face heat, he’d yet to acclimate to the advances in technology.  

“Uh no, money’s been a little tight lately.” Ruby punched Clementine’s arm.

“See now you went and made him feel bad, always asking the wrong questions.”  Miss Martin placed a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders.

“Girls it’s nearly lights out, how about you get yourselves to bed.”  They each nodded, and said their goodnights to the two teachers.  Lee watched them go.

“It’s funny, the more of these kids I meet, the less “Troubled” they seem.”  Regina moved to stand beside him, watching the two girls walking off.  

“You’ll see their rougher sides if you stay long enough, but it’s nice to have someone who can still see the softer side.”  He felt her hand on his shoulder, and a shiver ran down his spine, and he smiled.  

“Hopefully I can help them out a bit.”  They stepped from the greenhouse, the night feeling more chill than it had before.  “I really do need to get going, it really was nice meeting you Regina.” He turned to her and shook her hand again.  She returned his smile and waved as he took his leave of her.  

After retrieving his keys from the security officer he was back in his car and heading down the long road towards town.  All through the twenty-minute drive he went over what he would say to his class the next day, the headmaster had asked him to talk about his time in prison and afterall that was one of the reasons he had taken the job, but how do you tell kids about something like that.  After a while though his mind turned to more pleasantly mundane things, a lesson plan, interesting topics for lectures, what books to assign, they were nice thoughts from a life he thought was over.  By the time he was pulling into the parking lot of the motel the headmaster had recommended Lee Everett was feeling optimistic for the first time in a long time.

[hoeassproductions]

Break A Leg: Chapter 1

MasterList

A/N: Disclaimer, this is a work of fiction. I do not own, possess, or have any links to Chris Evans, nor do I profit off of this work. Any claims otherwise are grossly misleading. This work is not to be posted anywhere else without my explicit permission.

If you would like to be added to the tag list, reply here or send me an ask. I’d be happy to add you! Happy reading!

Word Count: ~1,500

A Chance Encounter

"Mom, how do I look?"

"I think you look alright. Maybe wear different underwear. I can see your panty lines."

"Who's going to be looking at my ass? It's an interview!" I say with a slight shake of my head.

"Exactly! Panty lines look unkempt. Wear a thong. You'll thank me later," as she holds out a nice, lacy black pair she pulled from my drawer. A pair whose matching bra I already had on under my cream blouse and blazer. Maybe a lacy bra is overkill for an interview but it's not like anyone will see it and it makes me feel confident. That's always good in the interview right?!

I grab the thong from my mom's hand and stuff it in my purse. "OK, mom. I have to go. I'll change on the train. I have to go! I'll see you after. Bye." I say as I kiss her on the cheek.

I run out of my house and get in my car. If traffic is light, I can still make my train into the city. I realize on the drive to the station, that I forgot to put my flats in my purse. 

At least I have this thong. Thanks, mom. My ass crack will be about as comfortable as my feet by the time this is over.

I get to the station with just enough time to catch my train. As I get situated in my seat, I go over my selling points as to why I should be the pick for this position. I am in the running to be the stage manager for a small but successful theater company outside of Boston. I've never been confident enough to go for this kind of position. I always wanted to since my days backstage in high school; those are some of my best memories. There's nothing like theater magic to drown out the woes of the world, but graduating and adult realities quickly took over my life. I took a short-term job at a local community college teaching sewing and different crafting projects as an assistant with my mentor, Sarah. That was seven years ago, but she's actually the one that encouraged me to apply and take this interview, despite my reservations.

I can't believe I'm even doing this. It's not like they're even going to hire me.

Wow, way to psych yourself out you in secure bitch.

As my thoughts begin to pester, I realize I'm letting my anxiety get the best of me. I try to refocus my breathing and think positive, affirming thoughts.

You can do this! It's already a good sign that you have an in person interview. The worst they can do is not pick you.

I close my eyes and lay my head against the window for a few seconds. I begin repeating this internal monologue to myself as the train comes to a sudden, halting stop. Everyone in the car begins looking around with questions reflecting in their panic as the conductor comes over the loudspeaker.

"Sorry about that folks. There is some construction on the tracks in front of us and currently all trains are single tracked through this area. There is another train waiting to get through on the other side. Looks like it'll be a few more minutes. If you would like to get out at this stop, the doors will open on your left side momentarily. I should have another update shortly. Thank you for your time."

I look at the map and my watch. I don't have time to sit here for the 20 or so minutes this will take. I'm only three more blocks away than I would be had I gotten off at the right stop. I go to the bathroom and quickly change the underwear. I know it's stupid, but my mom's probably right. And if I'm going for a partial costume designing position, I need to look good too, right?!

I leave the bathroom as the doors open in front of me and I hop off the train. I start walking and regret not grabbing those flats after two blocks. I begin digging in my purse to see if I have a band-aid or something that can help to keep the blister forming on my heel from getting worse for the next three blocks.

As I dig deeper looking down into my purse, I collide with someone as hard as a brick wall, causing their hot coffee to spill down the front of my shirt and the remnants of my purse to go flying everywhere across the sidewalk. I kneel down to begin picking everything up to get it all into my purse as I begin to feel panic settle over me. My heart starts pounding and I'm finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. I begin shaking, now frantically gathering all of my things, and only just begin processing the front of my shirt. A shirt meant for an interview I have in 15 minutes is now ruined, when a hand comes into the corner of my vision holding out the pair of underwear I was wearing a mere 10 minutes ago. I begin to feel very embarrassed now, on top of the anxious panic from this encounter. Only when I reach out to snatch the garment from his hand does he realize something is wrong.

He helps me up and is speaking to me, but I don't hear a word he says. He takes me to a nearby bench and leaves only to return with a brown paper bag. He hands it to me and I begin taking short, frantic gasps into it. After a few minutes, my breathing returns to even, resting breaths and he hands me a cup of water. "Thank you," I say. "You didn't have to do that." I down the cup of water and feel much better. "Listen I appreciate you doing this. It wasn't necessary of you, but..." And as I turn to face this stranger for the first time, I am met with the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. "...thank you" is all I am able to get out.

"It's no problem really. You seem to be in a rush and it was my fault I wasn't paying attention. Then you were having some sort of attack, so I thought to help. I'm usually on the other end of the attacks, but it helps to know what to do in a pinch." I barely catch what he's saying, except something about me being in a rush and that he has experience with this sort of thing.

Just then, it dawns on me why I'm here and I look at my watch. I have 7 minutes to get to my interview. I tell him that I'm really sorry but I have to go and take off running as best I can in these heels. It doesn't take much for him to catch up to me. I tell him I'm late for an interview in 5 minutes, to which he replies, "Aw, fuck. Now I'm an even bigger dick. I've ruined your blouse by spilling coffee all over it."

I look down for the first time as his words register and realize that you can see straight through my shirt to my black bra. I see out of the corner of my vision, he notices it too. Embarrassed, I quickly begin thinking about how to fix this, when he holds out a dark blue V neck. I make eye contact with him and ask, "Are you sure?"

"It's the least I can do," he says genuinely, as if he hadn't just saved me from my panic attack. I can see seriousness in his eyes and while I ponder the situation, we get to the building where the interview is.

As I go through the revolving door, I notice he follows me. I turn to him expectantly, as he holds out the shirt and offers to guard the door while I change. "You're a total lifesaver!" I say as I hug him and run to the restroom.

I quickly change my shirt and decide to leave a couple buttons undone so you can see the lace edging of the bra. Although not entirely classy, under my blazer it can be considered a little edgy and maybe even stylish. I do a quick once over in the mirror and fix a few strands of my hair.

You're as ready as you'll ever be.

I leave the restroom, only half surprised to see him waiting there. I do a little twirl and say,"What do you think?" As I look at him, he seems to be lost for a second, but then returns with, "Definitely an improvement. You wear that shirt better than I ever could." I blush slightly at this comment and then pull it together.

I give him a quick hug. "Thank you for everything, but I really need to go. Sorry!" I say as I walk to the lobby desk. "No problem!" he semi-shouts at me across the lobby as I give the receptionist my name. She directs me to the 3rd floor and as the doors open, I hear the man shout from behind me, "My name's Chris. What's yours?" "I'm Y/N!" I shout back with a smile as the doors close.

Next Chapter

A.N.: AHHHH! I’m really excited about this so I wanted to get it up quick. I will go through again, and try to fix any errors I may have missed. I actually enjoy writing this, and who knew fanfic author would be one of my titles?! I hope you guys enjoy, and as always, for myself and others, feedback is appreciated. Give me your thoughts about it! Any ideas for whats to come? Maybe I can somehow incorporate them. I have a fairly loose skeleton of a plot line right now, so this story can really go anywhere. I hope we take the ride together!

Tag List:  @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @beccaheartschrisevans @avenger-nerd-mom @mycapt-ohcapt-writes @mad-for-marvel @vanillabeanlattes @captain-ariel-barnes @emilyevanston @thewife101cevans @annvincible@loricameback @plussizeappreciationfics @a-tale-of-two-comics@melodramaticfanatic @writingcreatingstorytelling @kirstie-lotr@mywritingsblog @disney-fire-fox

[notimetoblog]

Not The Time (Pt.2)

Summary: After not seeing Bucky Barnes in what felt like forever you find yourself with him in the middle of a chaotic situation. Definitely not the time to reminisce about your past with him. 

A/N:  A bit of background on reader and Bucky’s weird dynamic lol. I am really enjoying writing! I really thought nobody would read the first part but thank you so very much for your likes and your reblogs! i am seriously over the moon! So I’m entering this fic to @violentlybarnes nes 3k challenge! The prompt I chose will appear soon!!

PART 1

You had lost track of the hours that had passed by. Had it been days? Hours? You couldn’t tell as the only thing racing through your mind was helping the maximum amount of people as possible. You had called many of the victims here to attend your health fair. At the time calling this fair had seemed like the right thing to do; to serve an underprivileged community and provided basic health services that they might not otherwise receive. You were so proud of the way your team had come together to organize the event to the very last detail. You were sure that you would be making a positive impact in their lives and yet now here you were treating victim after victim for wounds that would have not been inflicted on them if only you hadn’t called them to this hotel. If only you had just decided on another date or another place.

You had been under pressure before. You were a doctor, so of course you had dealt with pressure. You had never dealt with guilt as a doctor, though. How could you treat the very same people you had basically summoned to this damn explosion? It was hard not to focus on this. So hard to look into the eyes of those wearing those little buttons your team had prepared for them to wear during the fair. Those brightly colored buttons that Maya, good friend of yours and surprisingly talented graphic designer, had so proudly designed. How could you come up to them and treat them for wounds they wouldn’t have received had you simply not organized the fair?

You felt your body drain from all energy as these thoughts just kept going through your head. You had no energy left to hold them at bay.

“Doc? Maybe you should take a break. We can handle this while you rest. There’s plenty of us here,” you heard Josh, a member of your team, say. He looked at you with worry in his eyes that grew as the time passed by and he saw you running from one patient to the next without stopping. His brow furrowed as he tried to keep his voice low and almost calming, like he was actively trying to lull you to sleep.

You turned to him and smiled weakly, “No, I’m good. I can keep going.”

“Oh, trust me I know you can,” he chuckled, “but you shouldn’t force your body like that. Trust me. Go rest for a bit. It’ll be ok.”

“You sure?” you asked.

“Yes, come on! Have some faith in us,” he laughed.

“Ok, ok! I’ll go. I’ll be back in 15 minutes, though, so start your stopwatch because I won’t be gone for more than that!” You turned to walk away as you heard his quiet laugh. Hoping to find some place to sit down and close your eyes for a while you scanned the area you were in. There were rows of victims laying down or sitting down. As they waited to be taken to a proper hospital you and your team had been administering first aid on the wounds they had on their bodies.  You continued to scan the area and then you caught sight of a far away corner where an almost fort had been created as people had pushed away some unneeded medical supplies and machines to create room for more victims. You hopped onto what seemed like the comfiest chair you had ever sat down on, leaned back on the wall, and finally closed your eyes.

You HAD woken up 15 minutes later like you had promised Josh but he had formed an alliance with the rest of your team. They worked together basically blocking you from returning and instead sent you off to get some food. Annoyed, and secretly very grateful, you had left the triage and walked to whatever store you could find that was open.

You walked a bit until you found a little deli that seemed to sell very appetizing sandwiches. How long had it been since you’d eaten? Time was still fuzzy. As you went into the store you heard the little bell over the door and saw the cashier turn to you. He greeted you quickly with just a nod of his head and he turned back to look at a tv that hang on the wall beside him. The news was playing and they had images flashing on the screen of the explosion and what seemed to be interviews with witnesses and authorities. You froze as you realized what other images the news was displaying. The Avengers were here, you’d almost forgotten, so of course the news played images of them entering the hotel and helping victims out. You watched as Sam flew across the screen with Tony. Then you saw as Bucky appeared on screen, carrying wounded victims out and towards safer grounds.

I’ll come find you when this is all over.

He had promised and you let yourself think about him for the first time since he had uttered those words.

It seemed the Avengers were still figuring it all out. They were probably chasing down leads on the possible culprit. You walked up to the cashier and handed him the sandwich you had picked out, with a few others and some snacks for the people back at the triage. You handed him some money and he hurriedly handed you back the change wanting to get back to the news as fast as possible. You thanked him and walked out of the deli.

On your way back to the team you couldn’t help but have your thoughts wander off to Bucky. Was he ok? Had he rested? Had he eaten? He was a super soldier but that had never stopped you from worrying. Even after all this time you couldn’t stop worrying about him.

You kept walking and your mind wanted to make sure you couldn’t think of anything other than him. You hadn’t let yourself freely think of him in a while so when your mind noticed your wall had come down it flooded you with thoughts of Bucky.

Your mind flashed to the time you met him. He had come into a tiny restaurant back in New York with Steve and Sam in tow. You frequented the restaurant as it reminded you very much of the food your mother made. You had heard Sam’s loud laugh and had looked up from the book you were reading.  You couldn’t help at becoming starstruck at the trio that stood in front of you. Of course, you had immediately recognized them. Who hadn’t heard of Captain America, The Falcon, and the Winter Soldier? People under rocks, that’s who.

“Quiet down guys! Come on!” Steve chastised them. “People are trying to enjoy their food.”

You had secretly hoped they took the table next to yours because, who are we kidding, they were gorgeous and a delicious meal with a nice view wouldn’t hurt anybody. To your incredible luck, they did! They pulled out their chairs and a waitress, who obviously had the same reaction as you, handed them their menus.

You sat at the table beside them waiting on your food and subtly observed them by peeking over your book.

“My name is Sasha and I’ll be your server today,” the waitress introduced herself as she blushed, “Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

“Thank you,” all three of them replied.

They began scanning over the menu while quietly talking amongst themselves. You saw as they all looked over the menu bouncing options off each other.

“I think I’ll get the steak. Simple, easy, can’t go wrong with that,” Sam announced.

“Uhh, I’m leaning more towards the salad,” Steve said, “Look this one comes with apples!”

“Barnes, what about you? Any idea?” Sam looked over at Bucky who sat across from him.

Bucky shook his head, “No, I’m not sure yet. Nothing sounds good.”

“Well hurry up! Sasha will be back soon,” said Sam.

Just then your waiter arrived with that glorious bowl of soup you had ordered. A simple bowl of chicken noodle soup had sounded so delicious and you couldn’t deny yourself that small treat. The waiter placed your bowl down and the aroma quickly filled your senses. You put down your book and took a deep breath. It smelled amazing! This soup was never bad to you. It always hit just the right spot. You thanked your waiter as he began walking away.

“That looks good,” Bucky whispered to Steve as he subtly pointed to your bowl, “But where the hell is it on this menu?”

“Ask her, she ordered it she has to know where it is.”

“No, its fine. I’ll find it myself.”

“Dear Lord just ask the girl! Sasha is coming!” Sam butted in.

“Fine!” you heard Bucky’s loud reply.

You turned towards them at this loud response and Bucky cringed a bit. Sam could be overwhelming sometimes, and he couldn’t help but yell at him sometimes.

“Sorry, ma’am?” he shyly asked you as he leaned to close the distance between you a bit, “Sorry to bother you but your soup smells amazing and I can’t seem to find it on the menu.”

Steve looked like a proud dad. Bucky talking to strangers was a marvelous accomplishment and he looked at his friend with a smile on his face.

“Oh, yeah!” you laughed, partially out of nervousness because OH MY GOD SERGEANT BARNES WAS TALKING TO YOU. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t almost swoon at his voice. He was so handsome, and your heart ached for everything he had been put through. “Its actually not on the menu. You can just ask for it, though, and they’ll make it for you.”

“Why don’t they have soup on the menu?” Sam asked, “Its not like some super-secret food nobody knows about. Cool foods go on the secret menu, not soup!”

You laughed, “I don’t know, actually. I come here a lot and wanted soup one time and noticed it wasn’t on the menu. I just asked, and they made it for me.”

“Weird,” Sam added.

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you,” Bucky said.

Sasha arrived back at their table and you heard Bucky order for the soup you were eating. A little smile threatened to appear on your lips. The Winter Soldier had just asked for a bowl of soup after timidly asking you about it. The whole thing just seemed adorable for some reason to you. You picked up your book again and continued to read it. A few minutes had passed by when you heard whispers from the table next to you.

“My god, ask her!” You heard Sam say again. You turned back to them again and this time Steve cringed a bit.

“Sorry ma’am, I know we bothered you before and you probably just want to eat in peace but your book,” he pointed, “ I heard a bit about it,” Steve asked with a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“Yes, it’s called Homegoing, I think it was on the New York Times Best Sellers list a while ago. My name is Y/N, by the way” you replied with a smile hoping to keep him from calling you ma’am again. This could not be real! You could not be talking about an amazing book with Captain FREAKING AMERICA just after talking about soup with BUCKY BARNES AND SAM WILSON! What was this day?

You spent the rest of your time talking to all three about books. They all shared their favorites and you also recommended a few of your faves. Bucky spoke a bit, but he mostly observed. He noticed how kind you were and how fondly you spoke about books. He saw how your eyes seemed to light up when you shared your book recommendations and how they seemed to exude warmth as you looked at him and his friends. Their food arrived, and he felt the soup you had recommended pulled him towards you even more. It had been a while since he had felt a connection with another person that was not Steve or Sam. He couldn’t deny he thought you were beautiful and loved the sound of your voice. He had just met you and barely knew your name, and couldn’t understand why, but he knew he felt there was something there. Maybe, if he just hoped it enough, he could have you feel it too. He couldn’t get his hopes up, though. He was still overcoming his past and it was not the time to think about anything else. He wouldn’t think about it, but maybe he could hope for it. It wasn’t the same thing, right? He looked on to you as you laughed at something Sam had said. He replayed what you had said earlier, “I come here a lot” and stored it in in his hope chest.

Not the time, but maybe someday.

——

PART 3

My very first tag oh my god! Thanks for asking! 

@buckysmusculararm

[songofmysnark]

The Bullshit Industry That Is Women’s Clothing

We’re gonna have a little talk, friends.  We’re gonna have a talk about the state of women’s clothing and how much it sucks.

I’m talking off-the-rack clothing aimed at adult, working women.  Your Ann Taylors.  Your J.Crews.  Your Banana Fucking Republics. The Nordstroms of the world. You know, the companies that are trying to get us to buy their most recent monstrosity of polyblended horror and the subject of plenty of thinkpieces, this one included.  “Are millennials killing the clothing industry?”  Yes, because you deserve to die, but also now we’re naked so can we please strike a plea bargain?

Before any of you get your panties in a twist, I’m counting stay at home moms as working women, because domestic labor is work, childcare is work, and juggling logistics is work.  If you can outsource it and the person who is doing it would reasonably expect to get paid, it’s work -- so don’t tell me being a SAHM isn’t work just because nobody’s paying her to do the job of a nanny, line cook, housekeeper, administrative assistant, executive director, coach, motivational speaker, teacher, or community organizer.  And also, no SAHM should have to resort to the MLM hell that is LueLaRoe in order to clothe her body.  Put the valentine heart printed butter leggings down, Karen.

So, working women, clothing ourselves is hard.  It has gotten worse over the past two decades.  Let us break this shit down:

Declining quality.  Don’t gaslight women over 30 and tell us that the decline in quality is all in our heads and that our expectations have increased as we’ve gotten older and more critical or educated.  A lot of us still have our blazers from J.Crew that we bought in 2007 -- at least I do.  I saved them because they’re gorgeous and sentimental, and now I save them as a physical reminder that clothing currently available to me as a retail consumer has sharply decreased in quality.  

Fit issues.  Between the unreasonably sloppy, inconsistent sizing (sometimes between two of the exact same garments), bizarre proportions, limitations on size ranges, and a seemingly universal refusal to cut garments for women larger than a B cup, women’s clothing fits horribly.  The solution to this problem seems to be to sew everything in stretchy, cheap materials that are clingy, unflattering, and translucent, which translates to...

...Awful styles.  Since the solution to lazy fit is stretch, the industry makes a lot of clothing styles that are not suitable for most women’s daily lives because they’re too cheap to use decent fabric in making clothing to account for the fact that they’re too cheap to invest in fit and quality construction.  Oh, you can’t wear a cold-shoulder top and a pair of stretchy black leggings to your corporate job?  Too fucking bad, that’s what’s in stock right now.  If we call it “Athleisure,” it’s all good!  And if you look shitty in it, it’s because you’re not athletic enough to be wearing it.

It’s funny how when women abandoned the corset, it was liberating -- until style started demanding that women become their own corsets.  No lumps or bumps or bulges allowed, but unless you want to wear Spanx (read: a girdle), you better diet yourself down to a flawlessly smooth size 2 if you don’t want to look horrible in a simple tshirt.

Sure, good style is available to those who have enough social or economic capital to access it -- and by social capital, I am including people who are thin.

The state of plus-sized fashion has always been appalling, but as the country tumbles into greater income inequality, the concentration of jobs paying a living wage into traffic-jammed cities with a lack of reasonably affordable or accessibly housing, the masses are not going to be getting thinner.  The workday has been getting longer, either by extending hours or by making it very clear that people who leave before 6 are slackers, or by tethering us to email in the spirit of “leaning in.”  Sorry, when you spend 1-3 hours/day commuting to your soul-sucking job that doesn’t pay enough to afford help to outsource all of the shit you have to do on weekends in order to function as an adult, the “obesity epidemic” is not going to end.  How about we call a spade a spade: the “obesity epidemic” is a side-effect of the confluence of income inequality and late-stage capitalism.  “Calories in, calories out, it’s so simple!” say people who are able to prioritize and afford to be thin, and are rewarded in kind with clothing that at least isn’t punishingly ugly or uncomfortable.

Let’s talk about uncomfortable clothing: there’s a lot of it when you get out of the stretchy-spandex land masking the laziness of corporate clothing behemoths behind 2% spandex in an already forgiving knit.  Wovens, friends, let’s snark on wovens.  Wovens are the fabrics that are stiffer -- think jeans without spandex, chinos without spandex, button down shirts without spandex, your wool coat without spandex, etc.  

Believe it or not, young people, most of these items didn’t stretch 10-15 years ago, or if they did it was a tiny amount -- enough so that you could comfortably drive a car while still wearing a garment that was purposefully cut and constructed so that it would lay close to the body.  Instead of spandex, clothing was constructed with more ease -- more space, looser in areas where a normal human body needs space to move.  And nobody looked shitty, because the clothing was made so that the structure of the garment kept it from looking like a sack of potatoes; that structure comes from quality fit, construction, and materials.  

And of course, companies will retort that if they did anything the way they did 10-15 years ago, costs would skyrocket!  Materials are expensive and skilled labor isn’t cheap, especially if paid a living wage in a country with labor regulations to protect workers!  To which I say: bullshit.  Costs won’t skyrocket unless you expect customers to pad the pockets of your shareholders and executives to make up for increased production costs that narrow the profit margin.  Essentially, you want the same profit margin that was established and became the norm when you switched to shitty quality while raising prices.

The problem is really of your own doing, Mr. Mall Fashion Executive Dude; you trained your customers to expect good quality clothing for decades, rested on your laurels while increasing your profit margins by cutting production costs, got everyone on the corporate end used to booming profits based on this giant margin, and then got confused when shit went south.  You went for short-term profits, banking on the reputation of your brand to carry the company through a quality control nosedive.  And now we’re rubbing your face in it.

So here’s some advice to the corporate powers that be: 

Make some fucking decent clothing.

Make the entire line in a wide range of sizes, 00-24+ with no differentiation between “plus” and “misses.”  

Give women’s clothing the attention, quality, consistency, and detail of men’s items.

Stop putting random shit on your clothing.  I want a goddamn tshirt without a sequin, weird design, picture of a bird, a saying, etc.

Don’t “bring back a classic” and mark it up 200%.  Take a hint: we all still have that item from 2003, don’t think we won’t compare them and put the videos taking you down for both an outrageous markup and a comparatively mediocre product.  Looking at you, Lululemon’s “full on Luon” (i.e. regular luon from a few years prior with a new name and higher price).  Looking at you, J.Crew icon trench from 2003 (i.e. the old trench marked up higher than it was before but with a shittier fit and cheaper materials).  

If your wovens look like shit on the average American woman, that means you need to hire people who know how to design a decent garment, use better materials, and learn about ease, drape, and tailoring.  

If your pants don’t fit women with hourglass figures, the problem is your pants.

And finally:  Listen to the women screaming at you on Instagram every time you roll out a crappy collaboration.  What do they want?  Natural fibers, better fit, a size range that is inclusive and reflects the general public without arbitrary cutoffs, good design, cohesive collections, solid basics, durability, functional pockets that can hold a fucking iphone, classic lines, and comfort.  

If that is too much of an order, maybe get the fuck out of the industry that makes clothing for women, because there are actually companies that have demonstrated that it is possible to do it right:  MM LaFleur (pricey, but excellent), Boden, Land’s End, etc. are all examples of companies that manage not to completely screw the pooch on selling clothing to women.  Hell, I’ll even give you Eileen Fisher.  Give me some linen and a functional pocket, Ms. Fisher, I’ll gladly look like a sexless therapist who moonlights at an art gallery.

But seriously, fuck right off with this cold-shoulder, poly-blend, lazy bullshit.

[yoshi4sushi]

(purupurupuru) (purupurupuru) (gocha!) (coo!) (coo!)

 Hey! Hey! Hey nakama! How are you all doing? The heat is on! Literally! Be sure to wear plenty of sunscreen, drink loads of fresh water or fruit juice, and avoid heat stroke at all cost. Don’t be a fool of trying to get major sun tan just to look cool. Well, we did our duty to warn you so please take heed of it. With that said and done, let’s get done to business. We got loads and loads of stuff to share with you. You know the drill. First off, last week’s chapter started off with trouble. We first see Nekomamushi has finally found Marco who is now a doctor and guardian of a village that was home to Whitebeard. Yea, the idea was to find him and see if he can give a little hand to Luffy to take down Kaido. Well, Marco gave him an honest good reason why he can’t leave. He tells Nekomamushi that after he was defeated by Blackbeard, everyone went their wait to who knows where. Marco returned to Whitebeard’s homeland to protect it since throughout the years, he was keep it safe from invaders. Because of this, Marco felt a lot of sentiment to protect what was dear to WB. (sniff) (sniff) So touching qne very reasonable. We then finally move the place we all have been waiting for. The land of grace and honor: Wano Kingdom. Totally going back to the Edo period. We all see Zoro and the gang hiding among the crowd since Kinemon told them that they gotta stay low for now until they can gather enough sources and help to overthrow Kaido. For now, they all must take a new name and jobs. Franky is working as a carpenter, Ussop is working as a street salesman, and Robin is working as a geisha. She looked very, very beautiful in her geisha look. At the end, we see Zoro in court taking his punishment for having the shisui sword that was given by the late samurai Ryoma, the zombie he fought at Thriller Park. The court members were all behaving so selfish and greedy. They sentenced him to death by seppuku while one of the officials would strike him at the same to make sure he’s dead. But you know Zoro, too proud to accept cruel fate, he cut down the official along with the courthouse with only the seppuku knife. Off to a bad start! What’s gonna happen? Will Kaido respond to this trouble? Let’s see how it goes this week. Next, this past weekend’s episode was intense! The castle was coming down with all the rubble that would crush the village, but thanks to Streussen’s quick thinking, he was able to turn the whole place into soft cake and cream. Everyone was safe including our heroes. Ceasar finally got his heart back, and Luffy and Bege went their separate ways. At the end, as the family members are ready to go after the gang, death is chasing them. Big Mom is in her sugar mode demanding the wedding cake. YIKES! I steer clear if I were them. Next time, the gang escape to the forest and runs into some familiar homies while Germa are protecting their territory. Will they succeed? Don’t miss it! Now on with the goods. First off, we have a telegram from our tower friend, Tongari-san! With this hot weather, we told him it better off to send a telegram so he won’t risk his health from heat stroke. So he says loads and loads of fun stuff are heating up at the tower. First, more birthday goods of Nami. They’re selling her birthday acrylic key strap that’s good hang with the other key straps of Luffy and Perona. They’re also selling her birthday button as well. If you purchase more than 3000 yen of goods, you’ll get a free birthday poster of her or Corazon. You can only choose one. Be quick cuz they run out very fast. Next, new delish menu at the café. They have Law’s chicken wrap, Perona’s black burger with ghost French fries, Sabo’s tasty parfait, and Luffy’s colorful berry drink. YOWZA! Tasty summer meal! Also, if you order either of Nami or Corazon’s birthday menu, they’ll give you a free birthday card of them. You can order both to get the cards. Next, more birthday goods of Nami. They’ll sell a bromide card set, a tote bag, and a folder. They Straw Hat stores at other locations and Jump Shops will also have them. Finally, Omni 7, 7/11 store will be taking ticket reservations for the tower, and if you purchase a ticket from this website, you’ll be given a free limited Tokyo Tower mug of the Straw Hats. If you take this mug with you at Franky’s Cola Bar, you’ll be given a free drink of your choice. Reservation tickets start next Monday until Aug.30th. Next, FIGURINES! FIGURINES! This Tuesday, all arcades will be stocking this awesome WCF mini figurines of Mugiwara 56 of Luffy, Zoro, Robin, Chopper, and the logo wearing Germa suits from the colorspread page. TOTALLY RAD DUDES!! Get your coin ready…. & WIN!!! Next, POP Bikini will be taking reservations for figurines of Vivi and Rebecca together. Rebecca’s helmet will be included. It will be released in October. I’ll leave a link for those interested. Next, Figure Arts Zero will released this new figurine of Luffy in gear 4th doing his gum gum bazooka attack. Pre-order link will be announced later. It will be released in November. Next, more Nami’s birthday goods are in stock at Straw Hat stores. They’ll sell two stylish long towels, acrylic key chains, acrylic frames, stickers, and mirrors. If you purchase any of them over 1000 yen, you’ll get a free birthday bromide card of her. And we got some new YAKARA buttons! The new theme is MUSIC!!! ROCK N ROLL, DUDES!!!! They’ll have 30 characters including Apoo, Katakuri, Reiju, Ussop, Franky, Moria, and many more. Limited ed. button is the king of rock himself, Soul King Brook! YEAH! They will be released next Saturday. Next, stores will be selling three notebooks good for school. They have three differ covers: Luffy & Shanks, Marines, and Iva-chan with Bon-chan. Each has phrase. You can also find them at stationary stores such as Loft, Tokyu Hands, or any other local store. Next, Hikari Sports will be selling funky fun swim suits. They’ll sell this short speedos for men that has the Straw Hats in summer themed. They’ll also sell other kinds of swim suits for both men in women. Both will have jolly rogers decorated all over. For men, they’ll have in green, black, & blue designs. For women, they’ll have one-piece suits in hot pink, black, and blue designs. They’ll also sell swim caps (different colors), towels of Luffy & Chopper, & OP logo in different colors as well. I’ll leave a link for those interested. Rakuten & Yahoo shop will have them available for pre-order. If you need, please don’t hesitate to reach out to us. Next, new WCI t-shirts will be in stock soon such as these black t-shirts of Luffy and Katakuri with Big Mom. They’ll be released sometime this month or next month.  Next, here are the collaboration goods they’ll have the Yokohama baseball game. They’ll sell Chopper goods with different team brands. They’ll sell mugs, key chains, smart phone covers, fans, t-shirts, towels, sticker, small string purses, t-shirts and much more. Last, but not least, OP app game, Thousand Store, will have short campaign of Hancock so you can use her a playable character. Win enough levels and you’ll receive her along with a free image gift good for wallpaper on your phone. PHEW! All this talking is making and typing is making us sweat so much. PHEW! I think we covered everything. Well, that’s all we got for now. Tune in next week for more news and upcoming events. We will see Tongari-san at the tower for the anniversary event. Keep the telegram coming, my friend. Kikko! Momon! Excellent job as always, boys. Let’s stop for now. Heat is getting intense.

 Swimsuits: https://www.rakuten.ne.jp/gold/hikarisp/

Figurines: http://megatreshop.shop40.makeshop.jp/shopdetail/000000000600/

Free mug: http://7net.omni7.jp/general/005105/000000onepiecetower