#Man! I lost one of my dearest friends because of a video game

[rahabs]

Tears falling into eczema patches burns like a motherfucker.

[hwajin]

✞ 「 .✶۪ .° ✞ : 𝐇 𝐈 — 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐄 !! : a series

☆ — chapter one; Soda Pop :

✞ 「 .✶۪ : see series masterlist and warnings here

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter word count: 12.1k

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter warnings: fluff and angst, y/n's kind of an asshole, first mentions of cheating!!, stupidity and immaturity

✞ 「 .✶۪ : heavily inspired by: 'nana' by ai yazawa!

author's note: it's finally here!!!! i've been crafting on this series for a good year now, and while i know it's nowhere near good because serieses aren't my strength at all, i hope you'll still enjoy it!! pleaseee please please let me know what you think of it, every bit of feedback is highly appreciated <3333 enjoy <3

The sound of console buttons and video game soundtrack filled the stuffy studio, particles of dust dancing in the burning summer sun. Han bit against his lip piercing while he plugged his guitar into the old AMP the bunch of you had found on a flea market two years ago – it’s been roughly thirty dollars, and you had sworn to have found heaven back then; admittedly, though the old box was working to its’ best abilities, it was high time to hunt for a new one. Han’s heavy silver rings scratched against the yet untuned strings of his instrument, and the sound was almost uncomfortable; though never quite, for it was music after all.

You would never grow tired of it, you thought. Of music, of everything revolving it – it was your everything, your earliest memories, your dearest experiences; your closest friendships, even. Ever since your parents had bought you your first electric piano – one for kids only, and not of best quality altogether though you had loved it all the same – notes and tunes had been all around you, always. With seven years old you’d been signed up for your first piano lesson, which no other kid in your course had been as excited to visit as you had been; with ten years, mere three years later, when Han had moved into your neighbourhood with his parents, you’d convinced your own to let you visit guitar lessons with him. They hadn’t needed much persuasion; they’d noticed early on just how much you enjoyed the hobby, and they’d never been ones to forbid you passion. There had been fights when your parents had realised you’ve been far more serious about music than they had imagined, or hoped, even; at fifteen years old you had planned to drop out of school with your best friend, and both your and his parents had lost hours of sleep and nerves convincing you of the opposite. Two years later, at seventeen, both you and Han were sure not to apply to college, initially – that, too, had caused tears and frustration over both of you and your parents. You and Han, having felt pressured to take action, had decided to apply to a college, somewhat pretentiously, where you would start an amateur band – it would keep both you and your families happy.

You set up your microphone, guitar long in hand, the worn-out leather band cutting into your neck, pulling at loose strands of hair, the weight of your instrument laying heavily on your shoulders. You were used to it; enjoyed the feeling like nothing else.

“Guys, wrap it up, some of us have classes soon.”

Just then Changbin’s groan sounded against Jeongin’s shout of victory – in three years of knowing the pair there has been only one occasion on which Changbin has won a game of Mario against Jeongin; that the younger had been knocked out drunk back then, Changbin never wanted to admit. The older man threw his console onto the carpeted floor in frustration, emitting a cloud of dust where it hit – his determination to win was admirable, if you were honest, though his pouting and sulking was amusing every time anew.

“Bro, I swear you’re dead next time.”

Jeongin snickered as they both made their way to their positions behind you, and the rest of you erupted in a fit of protests and laughter. “You should accept defeat to be honest, I’d be embarrassed by now if I was you – there’s bad game play, and then there’s you.”, Han’s voice thinned out towards the end of his sentence when Changbin shot him a deadly look – the younger momentarily busied himself with his guitar again, merely smirking to himself at his friends’ sensitivity.

“Guys, c’mon now, we don’t have all day.”

The two friends both mockingly imitated you, though got behind their instruments – Jeongin stood behind the long-ready piano, Changbin picking up his long-tuned bass. The small college studio momentarily filled with vibrations and resonances of instruments – Jeongin playing warm-up chords, Changbin letting chime a long tone, Minho, who all of you – after you’d seen a commercial on the TV you had now long forgotten – had started calling Lino over your years of friendship besides his very active protest against it, gave a couple experimental sounds against the snare of his drums behind the thin plexiglass he was seated. It was heaven to your ears. There was nothing, you’d argue, that you loved more than the sound of the small room filling up entirely with the harmonies of your instruments, every single one coming together to play the songs Han wrote so diligently for your little amateur band besides his college assignments. Not that he was taking them too seriously, anyways – he planned to be a musician, no matter the cost.

“Alright, everyone in position, everyone ready?”, you waited for the lot to groan softly in agreement, looking back at them all to give you a nod, “I’ll count in…”, the tension in the studio thickened now, all bickering forgotten; and everyone waited for your commando, “five…”, a beat, your voice sounding through the room, “six…”, another beat, your voice louder now, your fingers ready on your instrument, everyone else watching you intently, adjusting in their position, “five, six, seven, eight!”

The room erupted in deafening volume, Jeongin’s synthetic piano sounding softly against Lino’s loud kick drums, Changbin’s bass harmonising with Han’s guitar; your voice sounding above it all.

It hadn’t been until you were out of school four years ago when you had started singing, so, naturally, you weren’t the strongest vocalist; it was Han who had convinced you to give it a try, arguing the tone in your voice to be unique, and diminishing, simultaneously, the necessity of looking for a vocalist for the band you had started planning back then, already. Your skills had gotten better over the years – your bandmates had made it fashion to remind you of it, no less because you yet needed to learn to acquire confidence in your skill. Four years later – you liked your voice, and the five of you had found the sound that fitted it best, despite your remaining weaknesses.

‘Hope’ – the name of the band, the name of Han’s and Jeongin’s favourite cigarette brand. You had been nineteen and not very creative, had all, except Lino, met on the first day of college which only half of you took seriously – you were one those after your initial rebelling against it, wanting something stable and secure in case practical music wouldn’t work out in the long run; so, you’d decided to study theoretical and historical music, hoping to find yourself in the same field after all. You enjoyed your studies – as much as one could enjoy talking of chords and cadences and harmonies instead of playing them, or discussing composers of genius minds who have died centuries ago –it was no comparison to the time you spent in the studio, the passion it brought, the utter joy that coursed your veins whenever you held your guitar in hands, stood before your microphone stand. Mozart and Bach could only spark your interest so much, if the small, dusty college studio and your bandmates in it were right around the corner.  

Changbin and Jeongin were both English students; both figured that taking a universally, to quote them, ‘easy major’ would allow them to focus on their music, and to spend as little time in a classroom as it was humanly possible to still pass – you wondered if they’ve ever seen one from the inside, altogether.

Lino on the other hand, a business major and taking his studies with diligence, though never seeming to be actually doing his assignments, only ever having finished them with perfect grades, seemingly magically, didn’t put too much hope into an amateur band, and simply enjoyed his hobby while working towards his future career. It was a shame, though – he was a genius drummer, his loudest when he carried two sticks in his hands; you didn’t remember if you’ve ever truly heard his voice over the past years, though he was compensating his usual silence the moment he sat behind his instrument; and if it wasn’t his instrument, he preferred spending his time with cats rather than with humans.

And lastly there’s been Han and you. Best friends since you were little, though you’ve never visited the same school, so all the more excited when you had decided to apply to the same college together – despite not for the same majors, you would still be together. The band was his idea, initially.

“LOOKING FOR: DRUMMER, BASSIST, PIANIST, SECOND VOCAL FOR AMATEUR BAND. CONTACT HERE.”

had been written on the hundreds of flyers Han had taken with him for the first day of college you had anticipated giddily, and he had hung up the pieces of paper on every free space of wall and pillar he could find around campus – back then you hadn’t been aware of needing a written permission of the colleges’ office to hang up advertisements, and Han was forced to take down his flyers within the same week –, you had laughed at him and called it silly; though Changbin and Jeongin, friends since a little before college, had sat next to you both at the first-semester-students ceremony, and had caught eye of the papers in Han’s lap.

“Wait, it’s your flyers we’ve seen around? We’d be so down!”

You had eyed them sceptical back then – they had looked far too typical for an amateur-college-band, almost, heavy silver chains hanging around both their necks, their nails coloured pitch black, Jeongin looking at you with a nose piercing and blond streaks in his hair, their outfits raven and dark; though you had looked at Han, unevenly self-bleached hair, an eyebrow piercing adorning his face, his own scratched down black nail polish begging to be reapplied, boots on his feet two numbers too big, and you’d noticed, almost shamefully, that all four of you had looked like the prime example of people to form an amateur-college-band on the very first day of classes. It hadn’t needed much more conversation after that; the two friends had been welcomed into the band that had previously consisted of only you and Han, and Lino had contacted you three days later – right before Han had bashfully taken off his flyers.

It had needed some time until the five of you had started to click and work together; though yours and Jeongin’s voice had mixed well from the get-go, and everyone’s skill had been to a far higher standard than either you or Han would have anticipated. Lino had surprised you the most; while Changbin had been cocky from the first day you met him and Jeongin had been confident about his skills, Lino hadn’t talked much, nor had he looked, even, like a typical drummer. Not that there was a certain look to them, you simply wouldn’t have expected that under the quiet nature there was so much vigour and emotion, so much volume the moment he had given you a first idea of his level and skill, to see if he was a fit for your band at all; it had been fascinating, was to this day.

The song ended, the cups of your fingers aching, your neck strained, your voice in need of water; it was a successful practice. Jeongin and Changbin both expressed sounds of satisfaction, Han joining them while the echo of your instruments vibrated in the room for a couple moments, before they died out eventually.

“That was so good! The best we did so far, I think!”

Voices sounding through the room, and you turned around to look at your friends. Everyone joined into exclamations of praise, turning off and unplugging their instruments, stretching, cracking their knuckles. Conversation of pride filled the room; the praise never lasted long, though.

“Bin, stay in my rhythm a bit more next time, especially in the second half – don’t get too excited.”, Lino’s voice from behind the glass while he made room to get up from behind his seat. When you had first started practising with him, the tone in his voice during words of critique almost scared you, though with time you acquired to him, and learned to love his honesty – he was never condescending about mistakes, and always accepting of bettering his own errors.

“Yeah, I noticed too, my bad. I lose my count after the chorus. And I was distracted by you two,” Changbin gave a quick look between you and Jeongin, “you need to harmonise better. There was some dissonance after the first part, you need to sit down and figure out the second half better.”

You nodded at Jeongin, he returned it, knowingly. There were never hard feelings after critique, not anymore – initially, when you had started out, all of you had wanted to prove your rights, all far too proud to accept defeat, though now you loved your bandmates for being able to speak what’s on their mind, for it would only improve you as a whole.

“Well, and you two lovebirds were perfect, as always.”, Jeongin commented nonchalantly while unplugging his piano and mic. He meant you and Han, though neither of you were bothered by the comment. It was a running joke; you bore the longest friendship in the group, harmonised near perfectly every practice – how could you not, if practising and playing the guitar together had been everything you’ve busied yourselves with when you’d been younger? Despite having tried to convince the rest of the band that neither you nor Han bore any feelings for the other, nor would fuck to ‘get it out of the system’, as Changbin had so lovingly commented once, the jokes never ended; you had simply grown indifferent to them. You snickered, shooting your best friend a quick look; he winked at you approvingly, turning off the AMP and packing away his fire-red guitar – you followed him, unplugging and turning off everything that needed to be unplugged and turned off, before putting your own black instrument on the designated stand in between Han’s and Changbin’s ones. Lino already waited by the entrance door, bag thrown lazily over his shoulder, a pack of ‘Hi-Lite’s in his hands, one cigarette between his lips. He offered Changbin one when said male reached him by the door, and didn’t bother offering the rest of you any – you didn’t smoke not to damage your voice, Han and Jeongin couldn’t stand the brand the other two men smoked. Han got hold of his bag lying on the old leather sofa and his scattered belongings – headphones, notebook and a pen, a snack he had bought earlier, a pack of his beloved ‘Hope’s – and gave Jeongin a cigarette while catching one between his teeth himself. The bunch of you made it out of the studio – Lino, as the oldest, bore privileges over the key to the studio, locked the room and scurried over to the rest of you as you already made your way to the main building of the University. You weren’t a college band, not officially, though your location of practice was on campus – you had asked Mr. Hwang, your music teacher and head of the music department, if there, by any chance, was a forgotten room the five of you could use. To your surprise he had been most enthusiastic about both your question, and your band in general; allegedly he’d been in one as well when he was younger which had never lead to success, so he took pleasure in encouraging you with your own; his visiting during your practices weren’t a rarity, and the five of you were quite fond – and amused, slightly – of his support.  

“Ji, you have fire?”

The guitarist searched for a lighter in his jeans’ back pocket, handed it to everyone after lighting his own cigarette.

“God, I need this before class.”, Changbin expressed in exaggerated exhaustion, blowing out blue smoke into the hot summer air. His black hair fell over his darker eyes, and you giggled at his comment.

“Do you, now? As if you and Innie will go to class today.”

Han laughed softly at your words, blew out his own puff of smoke while Changbin and Jeongin started to get defensive – a habit they acquired lately, because both of them were on the verge of failing their semesters. You knew they’d skip their lessons anyways.

Lino was the first to bid goodbye, having to walk opposite of the rest of you for his classes. He left saying he’d be back after his hours for another session of practice; the five of you had acquired to practice twice a day, more if the time gave chance. You all saw him off, continuing your journey further down campus. The heaviness of your boots crunched against the pavement beneath your feet, the black of your clothes attracting the burning sun and making you sweat more than it was comfortable; though you were used to it. Changbin and Jeongin separated at last, despite making their way to their classroom they surely wouldn’t have enough self-control to truly sit there for a whole two hours. You teased them about it one last time before they saw you off with curses and middle fingers, and you and Han made your way to your favourite spot on campus; the vending machine right behind the music building.

Ever since you had started college you had come here with Han to get a drink before most of your classes – it surely wasn’t a healthy habit, it was your favourite one, though. You had deemed it a necessity to find a spot which throughout your college years would work as a safe haven against teachers and possible annoying co-students, a spot where you could talk music and gossip and, inherently, everything and nothing, entirely undisturbed. The vending machine didn’t stand far from a huge weeping willow, working perfectly against the summer sun, and it was being refilled only about once a week – it was an old and shabby machine, and you’ve never seen anyone but you two in the proximity of it.

“God, I’m so unmotivated for class today. Wish I could spend your free window with you.”, you expressed in anguish as you and Han reached the dispenser and the shadow of the tree with sweat-laced faces. Han chuckled while plopping down on the bench by the tree trunk, leaning back, eyes closed and played malicious joy writing his features.

“I told you, we should both drop out and focus on the band. I don’t even know if I’ll go to my one class for today.”

Your loose coins clinked soundly in your palm before you threw them into the vending machine, pressing the number two for a classic can of Coca Cola. You huffed out in amusement at Han’s proposal, snickered at his laziness.

“It’s like you wanna fail. You know your mom’s gonna kill you if you change your major again.”, you bickered while taking the cool bottle out from behind the plastic hatch; the cold condensation felt nice against your hot skin, and your mouth watered in anticipation for a freezing drink. “What are you doing with all your free time skipping class, anyway.” Your tone wasn’t condescending, nor was it much lecturing; you’d lie pretending you didn’t care for your best friends’ education and future, though, and his nonchalance towards it was concerning more often than not – you weren’t even sure what his major was at this point, and it worried you that he might not know, either. He did have the talent to become a successful musician, yet the industry had never simply relied on skills; it was luck and appeal and timing as much as all else.

“Well, first of all; duh, I wanna fail. At least I won’t have to study anymore, and my mom won’t be able to tell me I didn’t try.”, he returned with pride you didn’t quite deem appropriate given the context, and you tsked while he made his way from the old bench to the older vending machine, playing with the loose change in his pocket.

“And second, I use all the free time to write songs for the band you’re in, by the way, so you’re welco-”, he traced off, something external catching his attention mid-sentence, something yet unknown to you, and the man went from cocky demeanour to absolute and utter frustration in mere seconds, “No!! No, this is so unfair, they haven’t refilled my fucking root beer yet!!!” His sorrow echoed through the open, and you needed a moment to register his words, the true mundanity and vanity of them before you started laughing at him whole-heartedly. He went to lean against the glass of the vending machine dramatically, a puffed cheek against dirty glass and it mushed his face, driving to humour you further. One hand of his slid down the glass where the empty spot of his favourite drink stood in all its’ pride; it was almost Oscar worthy, and, to take matters further – and to make you laugh some more, you were sure – he topped it off with fake-crying; you almost choked on the Coke you had started drinking already. You had always adored his humour, his ability to bring light-heartedness into all and every situation – you knew he prided himself in the sounds of your laughter, often took jokes far beyond limit, until your stomach pained, and tears smudged your mascara.

“You know, I don’t even feel bad for you. Root beer is fucking disgusting; it’s a sign that you should change your go-to drink.”, the cold, bubbling liquid felt nice against your lips when you took a gulp after your snarky comment, which earned you a snarkier look. You shut up with a last giggle, and watched your friend carefully eyeing the available options for a drink, brows furrowed as though a far tougher decision than it was, lips caught between his teeth in utter – yet playful – seriousness.  

You loved him. Not romantically, never romantically – you cringed at the thought alone as you sat and lay your eyes on him, huffing out in amusement about his seemingly real frustration; yet you loved him. There was no other person dearer to you than him; you’d had your ups and downs as young teens, when hormones had been the only thing ruling your bodies and brains, though you had survived that time, and had been closer than ever afterwards. He was fun; there had never been a boring day if it was him by your side. He didn’t take himself nor others too seriously, viewed the world carelessly, which you had always admired – there’d been days you needed a listening ear, and days where you needed someone to get you out of the static of your own thoughts. Han had always been able to provide both, never not taking you seriously, besides his immaturity, for the lack of a better expression; he had always been the shoulder you cried on after heartbreaks, or fights with your parents, or ulterior and general hopelessness; and he had always been the happiness you craved for right after, his talent to distract you with music or video games or his own banal miseries far more admirable than he’d ever admit. Around him, you bore no filter, and you knew he didn’t either; with him you were human, had always been.

“Guess I have to be basic and take a Coke too, then.”, he tsked as you watched him dial the same number you had after throwing in his share of coins, and you laughed at his comment. His lip piercing was caught between his teeth as he made his way over to you onto the picnic bench, swinging one of his legs over the seat – his large boots always looked too big against his slim body, almost comical; yet it suited him, strangely. His dry, bleached hair fell over his eyes in bangs as he settled in comfortably, sipping his drink with another exaggerated sigh and faked disgust on his features at the loss of his beloved beverage; you scoffed in amusement, taking another big gulp of your soda. While Han enjoyed a free window after practice – and had both the courage and enough lacking willpower to not visit the class he had scheduled right after –, you had to rot away in music class until the five of you were able to meet up again, for afternoon practice; the hours during classes you always spent counting the minutes to be back in the studio, and sometimes the temptation of dropping out and embracing the band full time with Han by your side was so calling, that mid-lesson texts of it, and hopeless, juvenile plans of a music career weren’t a rarity between your best friend and yourself – the guilt of giving up with no solidity beneath your feet yet always took the upper hand, so big plans of bigger stadiums stayed texts, and you continued spending your daily classes in excruciating boredom.

During the couple minutes you had together, right after practice and before your next set of lessons, Han and you talked of everything and nothing. More often than not, it was involving music, his ideas and plans for new songs, possible schedules to practise, mistakes you and he had noticed in the rundown before and needed to correct for the rundown after. Rarely, though not never, both you and him would express doubts or feelings of hopelessness regarding the band and its’ future; another point you were ever comfortable speaking of in the presence of only him. Not because the others wouldn’t understand, or care; they surely would, and you thought they could even be decent listeners and advisers, much to your surprise had you first met them. Yet you preferred to save insecurities for later, when you and Han were in lonesome, could talk undisturbed; neither did you know of the importance the other three bore for the band, nor did you think it a good idea to talk of pointless negativity – ‘Where do we go after college?’, ‘What if the band never really breaks through?’, ‘Do we want it to break through, or are we simply  five friends enjoying music and each other’s presence?’ –; you deemed those thoughts to lead to discouragement to practise and play altogether, let alone keep the motivation should you ever decide to take the professional route. Yet, you could always talk of such fears with Han, for he always shared your worries; though currently, he was rambling about a new song he was planning – one he was allegedly writing specifically for you, and for your voice.

“I’ll show you the song when I’m done, I still have to edit a ton and it’s basically completely unfinished, and…”, a sip from his Coke and he looked at you, curiously, “I know you’re not the most confident in your voice, and the song might be out of our skill range…”, Han watched you listen to him carefully, piercing eyes following his every word, “but I’m writing this song to fit your range and tone perfectly, like- I’m writing it for your voice.”, his hands fiddled with the tin of the can under your gaze, almost nervously, as if confessing something he shouldn’t. His cheeks painted pink, only a shade or two yet you noticed, and he seemed to suddenly blink more than usual; strange. You emptied your Coke in a last gulp and Han’s eyes caught yours before you scoffed, softly.

“It’s unlike you to be so nervous about it. I’m sure it’s gonna be a good song, and I bet we will like it – I know I will; it’s written for me, basically.”, you snickered, and Han merely replied with a choked chuckle.

“I’m not… nervous about the song. I actually think it’s the best I’ve made so far, and, like- I think it’s gonna sound insane live, just… I don’t know. Whatever.”, another chuckle, forced, almost, and he avoided eye contact; very strange, truly.

You watched him carefully, wondered where the sudden insecurities stemmed from. Music, and songwriting in particular were his passions as much as they were yours, yet admittedly, he bore far more talent than you did; you had always admired it rather than growing envious of his skill, so far more confused now at his sudden humbleness.

“Show me the song when you’ve finished writing it, I bet it’s nice. Don’t be weird about it.” You nipped at the can of Coke one last time before throwing your worn-out bag over your shoulder, sighing exasperatedly. “Anyways, I have to hurry now. Don’t want Hwang to scold me in front of everyone for being late again.”

Han mumbled a reply, and you cocked your head at him in curiosity one last time – he wouldn’t leave a nagging thought uncommented, not if it was truly bothering him, though maybe he wouldn’t want to distract you before class. He would surely, you thought, mention whatever was making him nibble at his pierced lip and light another cigarette before you were even out of sight later before practice, and you took a mental note to ask him when you’d see him again. You left your empty can of Coke by the bench – you always allowed Han the pleasure of the deposit money for both his and your drink; he never not returned it by standing you a soda every once in a while – and made your way apart from him, from the cooling shadow, from the freezing drinks inside the dirty vending machine, from the comfort of your best friend – you bid goodbye with a last “See you later!” and disappeared behind the corner towards the music building, not without questioning Han’s last seemingly troubled expression.

☆.☆.☆

You sat behind your shabby, wooden desk in the hot, sweat-scented classroom, dimming out the chattering and gossip all around you with your earphones, scribbling doodles and lyrics into your notebook. Your blue pen materialised hearts and clouds and words into your yellowish piece of paper as you waited for Mr. Hwang to enter the classroom, as you waited for the two hours of boredom to pass as quickly as it was possible – or for your teacher to talk of a subject which could interest you, for that matter.

You furrowed your brows at the verses you were trying to make sense of; you weren’t much a songwriter, and despite Han’s patient teaching for the past couple months and your urge to improve your skill you were far from happy with any recent results. Your texts didn’t seem to carry a red line, context was hard to make sense of; you wondered if you had any talent for songwriting at all, or if you should leave said work to your best friend. You’ve acquired a habit of writing down anything you could think of for the sake of practice, to gather any spark of inspiration in written form, and going over it with Han on later occasion – only few verses and sentences of yours found themselves in a couple of his songs, and though you wished it could be more, he made it fashion to remind you it was already something to be proud of.

The heavy creak of the door and the following footsteps were the reason you stopped the music which blasted in your eardrums before taking out your earphones, the silhouette of your teacher strutting through the now murmuring classroom, whispers which sounded like questions, and a general confusion spread between the students; unbeknownst to you, yet, as you packed away your phone and opened your notebook on last weeks’ notes, before you finally converted your eyes to the front, finally caught a peak of you teacher; though it wasn’t the teacher you’ve expected to walk into the classroom, not Mr. Hwang, and your jaw would have hit the rough wood of your table if you’d had been any slower at gathering yourself. The man – not a stranger, though unseen and unthought of by you for the past five years – made his way into the spacy classroom, brown briefcase in hand, white dress shirt hugging the lines of his muscles, the ones on his arms exposed as he’d rolled up his sleeves. His attire was missing the tie you remembered him in, and, different to five years ago, the two top buttons of his shirt lay open around his chest – not showing inappropriate skin, though enough to tease, almost, to make you drool in your seat. His black dress pants moved with him as he settled behind his desk, briefcase on the table, one watch-adorned wrist making its way into his pants’ pocket leisurely as he looked around the class. He was visibly older, now that you had a good view of him – smile lines deeper, skin more textured, a certain calmness writing his pleasant features –he was just as attractive as you remembered him to be; more so, you’d dare to argue.

“Hi, my name is Mr. Bahng. Professor Hwang suddenly fell ill, unfortunately, and I’ll be his substitute teacher for the time being. I normally don’t teach college classes, but other professors sadly didn’t have the time – I’m well acquainted with Professor Hwang, though, so I agreed to take over his class for a few weeks.”

He was friendly. A charming smile adorned his face, a slight blush played around his nose as he looked around the room, looking at each student for a second or two before locking eyes with the next. For closure, for trust. Then he locked eyes with you, and it felt just like five years ago, when you were fresh eighteen years old, and a bored high school student in your last year before graduation.

.☆.

“I’ve never been so excited for class, oh my god.”

You had sat giddily in your seat, anticipating the arrival of your new music teacher. You had only seen him once so far, last week, when he had freshly relocated to the high school you’d gone to, and had been, quite literally and much to Felix’s misery and irritation, head over heels for the man – not because your friend had borne a crush for you; simply because you’d been utterly annoying with your high school love for your teacher. You’d known your yearning had been futile even back then, had known that Mr. Bahng wasn’t possibly interested in a mere girl who had just turned eighteen, yet you’d been young and in need for fun distraction, for amusement. And if that meant drooling over a young, hot teacher who had been just your type, it seemed, then you couldn’t complain.

Next to you, Felix had huffed in amusement as you kept eyeing the entrance door of the classroom, then the clock on the wall in front of you, then the door again. He had prepped his material for class already, in much contrast to your own entirely empty desk; saved for a piece of paper and a pen borrowed from your dearest high school friend.

“Your crush is getting unhealthy… he’s not gonna fuck you, you know.”

Felix hadn’t been judging, yet his voice had been teasing. You’d shot him a glance, had tsked at him which your friend returned with a mocking impression of you – fluttering eye-lids, airy lashes, a dumb-ish smile adorning his face.

“I know he’s not gonna fuck me… that’s not the point, though. Class is boring, and you take your academics way too serious to distract me from it.”, you’d retorted sarcastically, which Felix had accepted with a light-hearted scoff, going back to his notes from last week. You hadn’t been wrong; he wanted to get into college, and with good grades preferably. He’d known you had other priorities; he’d respected, enjoyed, even, your passion for music, and you'd always have the talent for it. The two of you had always been inherently different, though it had never bothered your friendship in the slightest.

Just as Felix had been about to retort with a snarky comment – or another far too accurate impression of your behaviour whenever Mr. Bahng was around – the door to the classroom had opened, and your music teacher had walked in – dress shirt buttoned up all the way, sleeves rolled down even in the hot weather, a careful tie adorning his fit. There’d been fewer lines of muscle back then, though they had been prominent enough to drive your teenage mind utterly insane. Your eyes had been glued onto him as he had welcomed the class, and Felix had struggled containing his laughter; you had been bashing your eyes at him, and you had been wearing a stupid smile around your lips at a mere look at him, just like your friend had mocked about earlier – and you had been either unaware of it, or you hadn’t been bothered enough to care.

You had eyed your teacher the entire lesson, and as much as Felix had wanted to stay focused, he had giggled and laughed at you, amused at your heart-eyes for someone so entirely unattainable. More often than once you had been in need to copy Felix’s notes because your thoughts – and eyes – had been elsewhere than the board, and more often than not Felix had pretended to stop helping you out in class any further, until you’d gotten over your crush; only in light hearted manner, though, because he couldn’t truly deny you of his help, would have felt far too bad to. Though, Felix had always admired your self-reflection in the matter of Mr. Bahng – there hadn’t been one incident in which you’d been unaware of the hopelessness and the unattainability your one-sided love presented – much to his dismay, because during free windows you would complain about it to no end –; and altogether, you had never spoken of love, in the first place. It had been butterflies, distraction from lessons, stupidity and immaturity – and you had always been aware of it; had always been aware of the impossibility.

.☆.

“Oh! And…Y/N, right? It’s nice to see some familiar faces!”

While you had been deep in thought, eyes wide and mouth agape – looking but a deer caught in the headlights, and upon the realisation of your expression you grew bashful – Mr. Bahng had named few students he remembered teaching back in school, happy some chose to follow the musical path before he started with the class, not lingering on you for a second longer after you nodded and smiled in approval; it almost frustrated you, his lack of attention to you – though anything else would have been strange, admittedly.

He had changed almost tangibly, though not by a lot, and into a direction far more pleasant than you'd had dared to expect. There was a change to his behaviour; when you had first seen him teach, he had been nervous, clammy; despite never in loss of control over the class he had clearly not borne much faith for his skills as a teacher yet. Now, standing before you in all his glory, black hair carefully slicked back in purposefully messy waves, constant lazy smile painting his features, he was more confident, far more secure in himself. It made sense; he’d been a fresh teacher five years ago, when he had walked into your classroom in uncertainty, so the gained experience surely did his practice advantage. He spoke with ease – about what, you weren’t quite sure –, each of his word dancing past his lips in serious and clear, yet laid-back manner, his writing on the board as messy as you remembered it, and more cursive now, his eyes finding home on every student sitting in class for a few moments before he moved on; he wasn’t pushing, yet he lured you into trusting him, into listening to his lesson – if you hadn’t been far more interested in his alternative qualities.

Mr. Bahng had always been a good teacher – though it had barely been the quality you liked about him most. You weren’t realising the pain your teeth caused your lips while you were looking at him, melting at the sight you had entirely forgotten over the past years. It was embarrassing, the way your eyes scanned the outline of his shoulders straining against his white shirt when he stretched to write on the board, how they followed the lines of his arm, the tensing of the muscles there when he applied pressure to the charcoal. You watched his hands – veinier than you remembered – as he erased older writings with a wet sponge; the water dripping down his skin felt far more erotic than it should, and, as though teasing on purpose, he got rid of the fantasy far too quick with a simple tap of a towel, leaving his hands dry, and you hot and bothered.

It was embarrassing, the way you couldn’t get your eyes off the curve of his back, and how the tucked-in button-down hugged around his torso, the slimness of his waist in contrast to his shoulders. He presented himself so very matter-of-factly before a class not his own, and it didn’t leave you cold – the subtle dominance, the care he radiated got you squirming in your seat, fiddling with your pen. The two hours you usually spent listening and taking notes were spent in utter awe at the man, in fantasising – you suddenly wished to be kissing down his chiselled jaw which tensed with every of his word, dreamt of licking down the vein on his neck which appeared whenever he turned his head to his right. His hands danced upon your body in your imagination, pressing you against his table, hovering over you and engulfing you whole, sending shivers down your spine with every kiss he granted upon your neck, with every bite he teased against your skin –

You coughed, without much purpose but it tore you out of your thoughts, and you straightened your back to sit up-right in your chair. You grew bashful at yourself, your imagination and the wet patch between your legs; you wouldn’t have expected the man to have the same effect on you as five years ago, and if you truly thought about it, it was quite embarrassing. You hadn’t even thought about your high school music teacher the moment you had graduated, had forgotten him entirely; now you were sitting in his class again years later, as though freshly eighteen anew, a dumb student yearning after a far older man; only now, you noticed as you watched him talk, the circumstances were far different – far more to your advantage. Technically, Mr. Bahng wasn’t your teacher anymore; he was teaching you, though you doubted it to count. He’d be gone again in a few weeks, when Professor Hwang felt better – so, you convinced yourself, he wasn’t your teacher, not technically. The age difference had stayed the same, quite obviously; though now it didn’t seem to quite bother you, not anymore – you’ve been with guys his age, and not rarely. Now you were older, and your crush of far better solidity, realer, almost; you could have him, could manage to wrap him around your fingers. The chances were far better. You weren’t, in fact, freshly eighteen anymore, nor were you a dumb student; and you bagged experience. It wasn’t of advantage to you that he remembered you from school – there was a risk you had stayed a student in his memory, young and immature and far too involved into a music teacher, though you didn’t think that would stand in your way; Mr. Bahng would be easy prey, surely. He wasn’t an impossibility anymore, he was there and real, easy to seduce.

“Let’s see… Y/N, you know the answer? You look sort of distracted.”

You hadn’t much realised the shameful path of your thoughts until the very man you had been sinfully thinking about had started speaking to you himself; you had, in fact, been distracted, and, much to your embarrassment, did neither know the answer nor were you aware of the question he had asked, altogether. You blushed, apologised bashfully – he simply continued with an understanding hum and a quick, kind gaze your direction, before picking another student to answer his question; you needed him, as soon as you could have him.

You’d be ashamed of your fantasising and longing, if it had been under different circumstances; though expectantly, you weren’t at all surprised about the tension flooding in the pit of your stomach at the sight of Mr. Bahng, or the way your thighs rubbed together when his eyes scanned yours for mere seconds; it had been ages since you’ve last been intimate with anyone, and your body was urging for closure, for contact and touch – it wasn’t an absurdity that the man who had caused many sleepless nights prior was now the culprit of a similar outcome.

You picked up where you had last stopped your train of thought; you could seduce him. Surely, if you craved intimacy and closure there were far easier men to aim for – but where would be the fun in that, truly? You had always liked a challenge; you had always liked him. And though your skills hadn’t been of much use lately, you believed yourself to have the charm – there wasn’t anything speaking against your plan, if you thought about it. If you disregarded the morality of the situation, that was.

The two hours of boredom flew past you today. Your notebook was entirely empty; you already dreaded having to find someone ready to lend you their notes of the lesson, though you cared only little while you watched student by student disappearing into their next lessons after Mr. Bahng had dismissed the class, each student opening the opportunity of talking to your teacher further and further. You took your time with your own belongings, dragging out the process of packing away your paper and pen, searching around in your bag for your headphones though it wasn’t at all necessary as they lay right atop your other stuff, only standing up when the last student left the hot classroom; and you found yourself alone with Mr. Bahng. He smiled up at you kind and unknowing as you made your way up to his desk, eyes not much lingering on you as he continued collecting his own materials and leaving the desk ready for the next professor; only when your smiling figure hovered over his own across the desk he looked up at you from beneath his lashes, his seating position painting the illusion of curious puppy eyes – he was far more attractive in the close up, and excitement, a sense of anticipation filled the entirety of your chest.

“Y/N, hello! Do you… need help with anything?”

You stood and stared; you hadn’t even thought of things to talk about with him, hadn’t prepared a pretentious question that could work as a possible opener – suddenly you grew embarrassed, bashful. You felt stupid under his gaze; what the hell were you doing?

“Oh, no… I just wanted to say hi! I haven’t seen you in ages… are you doing alright? Are you still teaching in *insert name of school*?”

Not bad, you thought, though you cringed at yourself; you wondered where all the previous confidence went the moment you stood before the man. The effect he had on you was far too embarrassing. You were far too old to feel like a teenager in love.

The teacher cocked his head at you, brows raised; he hadn’t expected the question, hadn’t anticipated small talk, seemingly. Yet he huffed out in amusement after blinking at you for a few seconds, and your heartbeat against the bones in your chest was deafening. You hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Uh, yeah, it has been a while… I didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.”, he snickered, stood and continued packing his stuff. “You were… never really good in my class. I never knew you had an interest in music.” Seemingly harsh words though it was a light-hearted comment as he ended it in a laugh, and you joined his amusement. You were sure you were blushing, though you decided to ignore it.

“Yeah… I never had an interest in school, you know. I always liked music, though. I just prefer listening to and making it, instead of… just learning about it.” Your voice sounded smoother now; he was easy to talk to, kind, funny. He gave you a quick look before continuing collecting his variation of pens and a last notebook, a smirk dancing around his lips – god, you needed him.

Mr. Bahng hummed approvingly at your words, locking eyes with you after snapping in the locks of his briefcase. A smile and a cocked head, and you bashed your lashes at him; just like Felix had mocked five years ago. What were you doing, truly?

“Making it? You’re a songwriter?”

The genuine interest in his voice made you light-headed, stole every thought from you. His dark eyes pierced through your own, unmoving and sure, and you almost trembled under his gaze; if you wanted to get anywhere with him, you needed to channel the charm you thought you acquired, and grow resistance against the giddiness he caused in the pit of your stomach. Your current attempts were all but miserable.

“Uhh, not really. Not yet, that is. I’m... my friends and I are in a band, though. We’re practising here on campus.”

You tried to sound as laid-back as possible, watched his reaction carefully; you enjoyed being able to look at him to your desires, eyes travelling his features up and down, growing weaker any time you passed his plush lips he couldn’t seem to stop wetting with his tongue, or his jaw which tensed with every word he spoke. He was as irresistible as you remembered him to be, and you needed to learn to have the same effect on him. You had a time limit after all; Professor Hwang wouldn’t be sick forever.

His brows raised the moment he heard the word ‘band’ – his mouth formed a silent ‘ah’, and your body heated up at the anticipation of his next words; he was interested in you now, and you deemed that to be of advantage to you.

“In a band, huh?”, he huffed in reminiscent amusement, eyes growing softer, “I love that. I’m jealous, actually. My friends and I had always been so busy in college, but making music together has kinda always been… a dream, you could say. If I can be so honest.”, his cheeks blushed at the sudden confession, the tips of his ears reddening; he looked even more insatiable when flustered.

The man swung his briefcase over his shoulder; the conversation was obviously coming to an end, yet you felt as though you couldn’t let it. You didn’t expect to fuck him right then and there, today, to succeed with your plan in the short span of ten minutes – yet you needed more of a lead than you currently had.

“Well, you’re never too old to start. Except, you know, you’re busy with… a wife and kids, or whatever.”, you laughed at your own joke, eyeing him curiously; and the man didn’t join your amusement. His smile drooped, the creases between his brows deepened; and only now you noticed the shimmering gold band around his left ring finger. Undeniably, he did have a wife, and kids possibly; his reaction and the ring spoke for themselves. Yet, undeniably also, and much to your contentment – he didn’t seem to be on good foot with the subject. As the pair of you continued making your way to the door of the classroom you apologised upon having noticed his silence and sudden clamminess, yet, internally, didn’t regret your joke in the slightest; any form of closure and trust you could tickle out of him would work best for you in the long run. You flinched at your own sadism and the utter lack of remorse you felt at your planning. Though, there wasn’t any reason yet to feel guilty; as of now, and as far as everyone could be concerned, you were a student talking to a substitute teacher you’d known from high school. Whatever developed would be as much in your hands as it would be in his own; after all, no matter what your ultimate plan would be, Mr. Bahng would need to be the one accepting or dismissing your approaches. So really, no matter how you viewed the situation, you couldn’t be the villain in the picture. Not really.

“No, no, don’t worry. We’re just… my wife and I had been hitting rough patches lately, for some time. Nothing crazy, just- typical marriage stuff. Not that it is of any interest to you.” Flustered again, his face changing into a light tone of pink, and he hid behind the classroom door he held open for you. 'Rough patches. Some time now.' – his words shouldn’t fill you with the excitement they did, and for only a second you wondered if your plan – dumb, now that you truly thought about it – was futile, immature altogether. You’d be a homewrecker, you’d be moving in morally grey area, you’d get yourself into a messy situation which would distract you from music and the band if you let it get to you; though then you watched the teacher exit the classroom behind you, a hand in his pocket to fish out his keys, warm and curious eyes on you as he locked the door – any doubt ceased to exist that very moment and having the man fall for you over the next couple weeks materialised as a plan in your path of thoughts again after you bid goodbye, the pit of your stomach ripe with giddiness as you hurried to the studio; Han would die hearing the news.

☆.☆.☆

When you opened the door to the studio the soft vibrato of an electric guitar filled your senses; right before Lino’s classes start, he hands the key over to Han, to let him use the studio in his free windows while waiting for the rest of you. You knew the stuffy room was Han’s favourite place to be creative in, to use for writing songs and practice whenever the five of you couldn’t get together. You would always be the first to meet him right after your music classes, the others arriving about half an hour later – though today you took longer, so you didn’t have much time to gush about your news.

“Hi! You’re late today. Did Hwang keep you?”

As soon as Han had heard the door open his eyes had searched for your figure, and the sounds of his guitar died into nothingness. He took his instrument off – the worn-out fabric having left a visible red mark on the soft skin of his neck – and plopped down on the sofa positioned in a corner of the room, right beside the set-up of instruments. He chewed on a piece of gum, lounging onto the old brown leather after placing his guitar on its’ standee; he hadn’t yet noticed the buzz you radiated as you closed the door behind you and made home in the dusty studio, throwing your rucksack against the sofa carelessly. Without awaiting an answer from you, Han started talking mindlessly, scrolling through his phone in the process.

“I actually thought we could practise this new song I finished earlier. I could play it for you when everyone’s here and go over it all. It’s not the one I was telling you about befo-“

“Wait, wait, wait, I need to tell you something. Urgent. Don’t need the others to know.”

Your voice cut off his, and Han’s eyes lost the screen of his phone now. He converted them to you, perplexed; finally, he noticed the blush around your cheeks and neck, the mischievous sparkle in your eyes, the smirk on your lips – you had been up to no good. You stood against the backrest of the sofa, watched him sit up a bit to look at you properly. His eyes were curious, his phone gone in his jeans’ pocket again, his brows slightly furrowed; the look in your eyes was almost scary, your hovering body over his own near bone-chilling.

“Do you remember Mr. Bahng.”, your voice was almost trembling, and he thought to see stars in your eyes at the sound of the name, whereas his heart stumbled in its rhythmical beating at it and calmed only seconds later. The tempo had increased though, and he felt the heavy muscle pump against the bones of his rib cage in silent fear of your next words. He looked at you wordlessly, speechless.

“My high school music teacher.” Your face emitted the same excitement and giddiness as it did when you talked of your many celebrity crushes, in anticipation of something Han wasn’t even sure of, nor wanted to know. You must have taken Han’s silence for memory loss, though he surely didn’t need the explanation.

Mr. Bahng; the name couldn’t not ring a bell. Though the both of you had never gone to the same school, there hadn’t been a single Wednesday in which Han hadn’t been victim to your gushing and thirsting over a man almost double your age, and the whining about the unfairness of the situation – if you’d been born just a little later, or Mr. Bahng just a little earlier you would have had a chance to get into his pants, yet you’d been left to only yearn for him from behind your desk, every week anew, a hopeless teen in a bad romance movie. Han did remember your high school music teacher; though he couldn’t make sense of the importance of him now. And he was scared to find out about it.

After his further silence you continued, Han’s face unchanged.

“Hwang is ill, and Mr. Bahng is gonna be my substitute teacher for a couple weeks. He’s so hot actually... I forgot how hot he was.”, excitement in your voice, and suddenly words gushed out of you in a waterfall, “He like- I didn’t expect him to walk in at all and then he suddenly stood there at the desk and he remembered me and he got so much hotter and like- I sat there and I felt like I was in school again but I realised I’m not in school anymore and am way older now so the age difference isn’t that weird anymore, you know?” Han almost hadn’t caught the question, realised too late that you expected him to say something, anything. Wrongly so, because he was still processing your words. You were excited, far too much for his taste, though he wasn’t sure why he despised the anticipation in your voice when you talked about your teacher. And, besides; ‘age difference’? ‘Not weird anymore’? He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to, because he couldn’t find any correlation in your words. When Han didn’t make a sound after a whole twenty seconds, when he kept looking at you with big, questioning eyes and a mouth agape you sucked in your breath, stepped closer to the backrest of the sofa. “Do you know what that means!?”

That sparkle in your eyes again, and Han did, in fact, not know what any of your words meant – still his heart sank, his gut felt as though having taken a punch. He wasn’t expecting anything he’d be excited to hear.

“I can fuck him now.”

The boy choked on his piece of gum, coughing in reaction to your words – his eyes watered, his palm beat against his chest in order to get rid of the sting in his throat, to fill his lungs with proper oxygen again. He hadn’t expected your words; and yet internally, he must have. His body had reacted before you had declared your news; when you had first mentioned your teacher. The name itself sent a set of shivers down Han’s entire body. The absurd confession of wanting – and planning, apparently – to fuck said teacher was even worse. A feeling he couldn’t quite explain found home in his chest, in the pit of his stomach, in the veins pumping right beneath his skin. His hands felt clammy, far too sweaty. What was that reaction? It’s not like he was jealous, he couldn’t be; your words couldn’t make sense to him, though, sounded utterly wrong. Fucking? Your teacher? It wasn’t like you.

“That’s insane. He’s your teacher.”, Han retorted after far too many moments of silence in which you had nothing but stared at him, expectantly. Han reciprocated your gaze with an emotion in his eyes that caused you to furrow your brows; it wasn’t agony, per se, but it was more than worry. It confused you.

“Well, he’s not really. He’s only here for a couple weeks, it doesn’t count.” You made your way over to take a seat next to Han, shoving his legs to the side to make room. He let you, feet flapping off it without resistance, the heaviness of his boots against the wooden floor echoing through the room; the strange expression in his eyes deepened, and it was too intense for you to keep looking.

“That’s still… he’s still a teacher. Like, he’s in a power position, you can’t- you can’t just fuck him. That’s insane.”, Han’s voice was far too agitated for your liking. “And besides, I doubt he’d fuck you. You’re just, like- a student. What’s in there for him except the loss of his job.” He didn’t look you in the eyes while talking – a rip in the old leather sofa was far more interesting to him suddenly, and his teeth nibbled on the silver metal of his piercing. The fingers in his lap fiddled; he was too nervous, too upset and it angered you.

Your head snapped at him; you wouldn’t have expected him to be so against the idea. Maybe you had been dumb, after all. Could Mr. Bahng lose his job? Have you been delusional, too enamoured by his looks you had forgotten over the past five years and influenced by the lack, the drought of any recent intimacy? But then again; Han’s reaction enraged you. It felt like jealousy, far less like the worry you would have understood. And you couldn’t make sense why it did.

“First of all, don’t act all high and mighty when I know you’d happily sleep with like half your current professors if you’d be given the chance – the only thing you ever tell me about class is how good Mrs. Yoo's ass looks in the skirts she’s wearing.”, your voice sounded loud through the room; not truly angry, but defending, maybe. You were too stubborn to admit the stupid plan was all but immature; and you despised that Han wasn’t as excited as you had been. His behaviour ticked you off; it didn’t occur often that the both of you weren’t on the same page about something.

“And besides, maybe Mr. Bahng is horny for me, too. His marriage is shit, as much as I know, so he might- “

“Marriage?! Y/N, don’t tell me you’re serious?” Han’s voice vibrating through the studio made you flinch in your seat, and you looked at him, eyes wide and brows scrunched into one thin line. You knew where he was coming from; but he acted differently altogether. You knew he wouldn’t be in one boat with you about the marriage bit, but you hadn’t imagined him to react this way, throughout the entire conversation; he was jealous, and you had never seen him this way. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, and the irritation over it caused your head to ache.

“Well, I am serious. Just because you can’t get laid doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with someone I’ve had a crush on since forever, now that the opportunity is there. Besides, I haven’t even fucked him yet, so get your head out of your ass.”

Your words were harsh, and you regretted them the moment they had materialised in the stuffy room. The studio tensed, your bodies did; and you stayed silent. You didn’t apologise; your stubbornness wouldn’t let you. Additionally, you didn’t even believe to be in the wrong, not entirely. Sure, you were moving in morally grey areas, and you had hit a sensitive spot within your friend; but you hadn’t lied, and he knew it as much as you did. Yet he only kept looking at you, for two seconds, for six, for ten; with every second you grew more and more bashful under his gaze, with every passing second the words you’d said sunk into his brain, embedded there. Until he truly grasped them a whole of twenty seconds later; the fact you were ready to screw your teacher, the fact you’d thought Han would have been excited about the news, the fact you wouldn’t apologise now or rethink your plan in the several moments he was granting you stabbed a wound into his fastening heart. A wound the motive of which he wasn’t all too sure about, yet it felt deeper than he’d anticipated it to. You stayed silent and he stayed looking at you; until he couldn’t bear holding your gaze anymore.

“I need to go out for a smoke.”

The guitarist got up, almost tripped over the dirty carpet under the sofa as he made his way out of the studio. You were fuming, felt guilty, felt bad; you were 22 years old; how could you still fight with Han as though you were both mere teenagers? How could you continue being so very stubborn, believe with so much conviction to still be in the right?

Han didn’t get the chance to open the door to the studio; before his hand could reach for the door handle Lino walked in with the rest of your bandmates, all chatting and quarrelling about something unknown – and, in your current state, uninteresting – to you, before they all fell silent at the sight of the both of you; Han’s head hung low, the usual excitement when everyone arrived absent, you sitting in the corner on the sofa with crossed arms and a look in your face which nothing but scared the rest. Changbin looked from Han to you and back to Han again while Lino and Jeongin made their way inside – slowly and quietly – to set up their instruments; not without questioning looks in their faces. The tension in the room was tangible, and the silence between the two of you was unusual, so you didn’t blame them for their sudden bashfulness.

“Yo, did you two fight? You look beaten up man.”, Changbin expressed with a palm to Han’s shoulder. You ignored his question, got up from the sofa to set up your guitar. You would get it over with practice, and see Han again tomorrow; everything would be settled by then, as always. You would talk again as though nothing happened, if you only survived today.

“It’s nothing, just need to get out for a smoke.” Han’s voice not convincing and to make matters worse, he shoved Changbin’s hand off, and the elder looked at the others with confusion-written eyes when Han left the studio without another word. All three of them looked at you then, wordlessly; though you continued setting up your instrument, throwing the leather band over your neck, plugging the cable into the AMP before turning it on, and soft vibratos halled through the room as you started tuning your guitar. None of them said a word, neither did you; you didn’t as much as look at them. Maybe you weren’t all that grown-up, far more immature than you believed yourself to be. Maybe the idea with Mr. Bahng was stupid, and Han had been right entirely; and the fight for nothing, inherently. It wouldn’t be the first time your ego was too big for your wrongdoings to be visible to yourself – though, in the heat of the moment and in your anger, you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, so you continued sulking, until Jeongin declared to go out for a smoke as well, and the others agreed to join him; leaving you in the studio by yourself, alone with your thoughts – you were thankful for it, if they’ve left on purpose or not.

Han was in the wrong, you thought. Not that you were entirely in the right, either; but he had overreacted, surely. Mr. Bahng wasn’t really your teacher – he wouldn’t lose his job if he fucked you, not if no one caught you until he was gone again. And that was only a matter of weeks; you weren’t sure how long it would take to persuade him – if it would work at all –, so, for all you cared he could be gone before you caught the chance of getting into his pants. You remembered your previous train of thought, and Han’s words; if there was nothing in there for Mr. Bahng, the situation would dissolve, anyways. Eventually, it was up to him if he’d accept your seducing or not – you would simply open the opportunity, everything else wasn’t in your hands anymore. The marriage was the only thing you felt worse about after having talked to Han. You felt guiltier now, were aware that you shouldn’t pursue a married man; and yet, again, you remembered your thoughts you had brewed on when you’d sat in the classroom. If Mr. Bahng’s relationship was so great and worth working on, he would shut out your attempts. He would pretend not to notice your flirting – however you would you didn’t know yet – or he would shut you off clearly, verbally. You would only offer yourself; the rest would be up to him.

It was your stubbornness, surely, and maybe you should simply sleep over your thoughts for a night, but no matter from which perspective you looked at the situation, you couldn’t truly feel guilty. Or maybe you didn’t want to – whatever the reason was, though, giddiness filled your insides again at the thought of next weeks’ class and the possible start of your attempts; until then Han and you would laugh about your fight, and he’d be as excited as you were.

Outside, Han was puffing blue smoke into the scorching air. Changbin and Jeongin talked of something he didn’t pay attention to, Lino eyed him occasionally, which he didn’t notice; neither of them talked to him after he had shut off the question if he was fine with a voice that led them to understand he wasn’t really, but wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, either. He was thankful they didn’t push him, that they acted indifferent.

It’s not like he was jealous – he was simply being a good friend to you. Who knew what kind of trouble you would find yourself in if you fucked your teacher; surely, he was only being caring, prioritizing your well-being. The stinging pain in his heart when he remembered your excitement he chose to ignore, and the insides of his stomach flipping and squeezing together in agony at your carelessness about his reaction, about the entire situation he couldn’t quite interpret, so he chose to ignore that, too. Because if he thought about it too much, confusion and perplexity formed his entire being; confusion about his own reaction, perplexity about the fact he had expected to be excited with you but couldn’t be, physically. As though something was holding him back from feeling happiness about your own, when it involved another. He was angry, he was irritated with himself; atop all, he hated fighting with you, deeply. You were the one person he shouldn’t fight with, ever, the one anchor in his life. If things were bumpy with you, everything else felt out of balance.

“C’mon, let’s practice.”

Han hadn’t noticed how the others had grinded their cigarettes with the soles of their shoes, and with a pat to his shoulder Changbin entered the studio first, followed by Jeongin, then by Lino; who didn’t go in without a last concerned look at his younger friend who was eyeing the asphalt beneath his feet. Han almost didn’t want to go in, didn’t want to face you – he feared his bodily reactions if he happened to see you, he feared to feel the sting in his heart again, the one he found so hard to understand, to name. He threw his cigarette on the ground, tapped out the burning, orange blaze with the pad of his boot. He would get over with practice; tomorrow you and him would be back to the old same again.

taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh @chrizzztopherbang @qtieskz @rylea08 @miss-fallon @sikebishes @h0n3yj4y @lashaemorow

[r3b00tp03try]

7 Love Letters I’ll Never Send

An Original Poem about my best friends throughout time, how intensely I love people, and how it kind of hurts.

1. The One From Long Ago

A fuzzy memory in the back of my mind,

A ray of sunshine with a name,

Kindergarten with a playground that towered above us,

A big world for small hearts.

I don’t remember you,

Not really,

But there’s a tiny piece of my heart,

Branded with your name.

A friend that meant the world,

Who joked about love,

When we didn’t know what it meant.

2. The One That Changed

American girl dolls and kiddy science kits,

A dollhouse that I thought was the coolest in the world,

Jokes about Girl Meets World,

And staying up watching it together.

Third grade in a new situation,

A best friend who felt like the brightest light,

We’d take on the world together.

Tragedy struck,

And I lost contact with you,

But I can’t bring myself to judge or hate you,

Whenever I hear what you’ve become.

3. The One I’m Still Being Asked About

Sometimes your memory tastes like bitter ash in my brain,

Because I know it’s neither, and both, of our faults.

Pokémon and Magic: The Gathering,

Card games and video games,

A fluffy dog who I thought was the cutest in the world,

But a storm cloud over both of us.

I was bullied and I got mean,

We started to learn we weren’t compatible,

Your new friends weren’t comfortable to be around,

And my new friends weren’t new.

The nail in the coffin,

Will always be the blatant rejection,

Of a core part of my identity,

A final proof of not caring.

I wish you the best, though.

4. The One That Hurt

My memory of you used to burn,

A bitter anger from an infected wound,

But as wounds do,

It’s started to heal.

There are times I think it’s my fault,

I gave you my everything, all my time,

And you lashed out,

When I started giving other people pieces of my patchwork heart.

You flipped my world upside down,

I know in a sense you’re the reason I am who I am,

But I was so afraid for so long,

To think of myself in any positive way.

An insult that burned a hole in my self esteem,

And I still don’t forgive you,

But I’m way past hating you.

Thank you for what I learned,

And I’ll forget you for how I hurt.

5. The One I Definitely Thought Was Love

Memory of the back seat of a bus,

Wearing each other’s jackets,

Because we were too stubborn to let the other be cold,

As we drove away from that news studio.

Constant affection that I loved,

But never really able to type more than ‘ily’,

A certain happiness, a certain anxiety,

An understanding now that some people just aren’t meant to be.

I hold no negative feelings for you,

In fact you’re one of my dearest friends,

And I love you in a better way.

6. The One That Definitely Is (Platonic) Love

My biggest supporter when I was figuring myself out,

One of my best and brightest friends,

One who carved such a place in my heart,

And didn’t leave it behind.

Plans for the future that we kept,

Now abandoned but the love still there,

A platonic soulmate and a best friend.

You are the brightest person I know,

And I admire your ambition,

I know you’ll take the world by storm,

And be the brilliant man you’re destined to be.

You stitched together my patchwork heart,

Time and time again.

I do my best to place bandaids on wounds,

Made by a moron who never deserved you,

And I’ll steal things away from his memory,

Because I love you and you deserve the world.

7. The One Who I Love Like A Sibling

Video games,

Late night talks,

Heart to hearts,

Someone who I love like a brother,

Even when you drive me insane.

Even with the assumptions we have to endure,

Repeatedly despite our denial,

I wouldn’t trade you for the world,

I wouldn’t trade you for anything.

Anxiety plagues both of us,

A myriad of issues we have to work through,

A couple lessons about pride we have to learn,

A bunch of choices we’ll have to make.

You’re crazy and I adore you,

A platonic love that feels forged in a metal tested by fire,

Only time can put it to the real test.

I can only hope it survives.

This was bittersweet to write, because the first four are still kind of bitter subjects. It was nice though, reflecting.

[yostresswritinggirl]

@butterfly-mochi​ Rewrote this freaking thing thrice because it keeps getting deleted wth tumblr agjvahkfajkvk- I enjoyed writing it a lot tho and since I’m too weak to the characters I ended up writing for all of them (except for Sucrose, im sorry bb huhu, I ran out of brain power). This is my first time writing for so many of them in one go so please excuse me for any mistakes or blandness ywy thank you for letting me write for my baby Ganyu too hhhhh

Universe Reversal 2

Genshin Impact Character Reader and Modern Players with Zhongli, Childe & Ganyu (how they simp for you) (event masterlist / Part 1 / Part 3)

Zhongli the F2P

The most relatable out of the bunch because this man is still broke and can only rely on the primogems he can farm. And he had a LOT. The one thing he doesn’t have a lot on, however, is his luck.

So how did he manage to pull you?: Well after exhausting all his primogem on your banner with nothing but weapons and other characters, he has lost his resolve. But by some weird luck, there was a character bug that was fixed and in his email was the almighty consolation primogem. Enough for ONE pull. And by the Gods he FINALLY got you.

He’d nonchalantly post his screenshot of pulling you using a single acquaint fate in his friend group without any words and everyone else just loses their shit. “You got them in one pull?!” “Yeah” A riot.

This was partnered with the fact that not only is Zhongli an F2P player, but also barely has any five star characters.

He looks calm and apathetic over the news, but behind the screen he’s exhausted and relieved, silently livid.

He has no primogems left to squeeze for a constellation so you’re instead pampered with the best weapon suitable for you (because that’s all he keeps getting).

Zhongles spends most of his time farming for materials to quickly level you up, unlocking all your stories and voiceline, but he fucked up on your build (his artifacts are messy).

He follows communities, forums and videos regarding your character to know all the things he needs to perfect your build. You can barely make a dent against normal mobs, so he knew he was doing something VERY wrong.

Is the type of person to keep refreshing the page for new content, very updated.

Ask him a question about your character and he’s gonna bring you the word vomit that is his research. He’s not gonna stop- probably accidentally developed a copypasta for you.

Also follows your VA in both Tiktok and Twitter to indulge in every bit of content. He also has that screenshot of his pull saved and locked.

On his birthday, a friend of his gifted him a chibi plushie of you and he has treasured it ever since, treating and handling it like its a figurine.

“It is merely pure luck and grace from the gacha gods that I got this character, and I will make sure that they know I am very grateful for this fortune.”

Favorite Voiceline: Birthday Message

Childe The Whaler

This lucky wealthy bastard with no remorse for his money whales for EVERY character. He’s making a collection, which is to get all the characters, especially the five stars. So when your banner finally popped up, he’s gonna square up and trigger a whole ass meteor shower.

How he pulled you: Money. His luck with this games are actually not the best so he always compensates with money, he got you halfway through the first failed pity, almost giving him a heart attack that he might actually break the bank just to get you.

And then he pulls more to raise your constellation lol.

The first thing he does is look over your character info and read through it all; constellation infos, your base stats, artifact compatibility.

At the end when he’s maximized everything, he would then focus on playing around with your character *coughs climbing noises coughs*

He thought you’d just be another part of his collection but playing with your character was very enjoyable and in-line with his playstyle- oops 100 screenshots with the Kamera-

Any and all merchandise that he fancies would be his, and he’s definitely flexing it to the other sweetie nerds who call themselves simps. He’s fighting for the simping title, and he’s currently neck and neck with this fanartist in Pixiv.

Speaking of that fanartist, he definitely commissioned an expensive and detailed portrait of you, full rights and everything. No one else was allowed to use it but him.

Was also the first one with the audacity to call out your VA to create an account on Tiktok to create more content with your voice. He was successful.

His obssession also comes in the form of self-indulgent contents, and had been keeping track of the ship wars happening. During conventions, he cosplays as the character shipped with you the most (or the character he thinks should end up with you).

Silently scrutinizing those who cosplay you, only ever taking pictures with/of the best looking one, sorry haha

Definitely flaunts that you are his waifu/husbando and will fight for best girl/best boy during debates or polls. Has mobilized the community to vote for you once. He’s very persuasive.

“Hm? Why I’m just the best collector in the game, and I am more than happy to let everyone know that I am their number one fan haha, everyone who claims otherwise is definitely wrong!”

Favorite Voiceline: More About (Y/N) I-IV, (Y/N)’s Hobbies...

Ganyu the Employed

Ganyu, our dearest overworker, is one of the players in the older stage who actually has a job but still plays Genshin for their past times. The gorgeous sceneries and the music is her main focus in playing the game, not much of a try-hard but still decent in the combat mechanics.

How she pulled you: You came home within 50 pulls! And you appeared again after another 10 pull! Ganyu was so SHOOKT and so distressed because oh goodness, what does she do? She doesn’t know anything much about you!

Will rewatch your three trailers to try and understand your skills better, ended up saving the soundtracks from them because that was such a nice trailer music! Tnbee gains a new follower!

Ganyu will take a while before she can properly play or build you up because she’s so busy with work, she only ever plays when she feels fully done with her work.

During her break she plays with your character while multi-tasking on eating, earphones plugged in and sight on the phone as she farms materials and artifacts for you.

The moment she gets more help from her player friends tho, holy shit, you just ended up being so OP. She had so many good artifacts and weapons for you because she didn’t know what they were for before.

She loves how you’re so easy to use and can easily solo the enemies and even the boss fights. A huge breather, because now Ganyu can cheese the battles that takes a while, to give her more time to focus on the storyline and lores.

Since Ganyu plays for the story and aesthetic, she’ll find you almost always in her team. Still very proud of her pull, she makes the best screenshots of your fights or in the best angle through exploration.

Treasures you so much she starts talking to her phone- “Ah, no, please don’t fall.” “There’s violetgrass up there, let’s try and get it”

Blushes everytime you produce a sound when climbing, doesn’t change you anyways tho

Hums to your trailer music while working, and if permitted, would have the song on repeat while she buries herself in work. She finds it really refreshing and the time she spends in work miraculously flies by fast when she gets lost in the sound.

At one point, when she was given a day-off or if the convention was on her free time, she attends to look for cosplayers of you and take a picture. No one rejects her because she’s so adorable and cute when asking shyly.

Had brought a decent amount of merchandise, preferably the functional/practical ones like a phone cover, mug or keychain. Also has an earphones clamp with your little chibi self as the holder.

When asked, she would shyly announce that she likes your character the most.

“Their character theme and music really soothes me during work, it feels nice to have them, and I have not once regretted ever pulling for them. They are the best.”

Favorite Voicelines: Good Night/Afternoon..., About Us, Something To Share..., Interesting Things...

so enjoyable...

@moaa @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

[marlborothots]

It's that time when I log back into tumblr for my stranger things fluff-fics-fix and while I love ST4 Vol 1, it has been tugging on my heart strings a lot. The first episodes featuring Eleven struggling with having a deceased father has brought a lot of past emotions up for me and I had it under control until today... it wasn't a good day.

To start, if you don't know I've been a member of the dead dad club since I was 8 and I am 23 now. I never thought I would have to help any friend struggle through losing a parent so early in life--I thought they would all have normal timely passings. I prayed they would. Sadly, one of my dearest friends that I'm starting a new chapter of adulthood with lost her dad today and wow what a man he was the times I got to meet him. He did so many things not only for her but all of her friends even when we were 3+ hours away. My heart is aching knowing the pain and knowing I can't do anything for her right now. It aches more knowing how her life will change, how her mother and sisters' lives will be altered for this new narrative. Her childhood friends I've befriended over the years called me for advice on how to respond, reach out, what should they send--do people like flowers or food more or is there something different, what was I like when it happened to me, etc. and I know they don't fully understand the trauma of that one day of my life. They're learning young adults that haven't had to attend 10 funerals in their lifetime like me for immediate family, they've all experienced different forms of trauma compared to me and my friend. They don't know yet that grief comes in different ways for everyone but I'm happy to share my experiences so they can feel prepared. I heard from two friends today: "I don't think there's a better person than you for her to live with for the next year." I can't describe how that made me feel. Happy and sad at the same time in the weirdest way.

I must confess I have a guilty feeling, and I have this for all of my older cousins that got their fathers for more than 40 years of their lives... I can't help but be jealous and happy my friend had the time she had with her dad. I wish mine could've seen my high school graduation, my college graduation, meet the man I would marry, meet his grandchild, etc. Instead, he got my first ballet recitals, soccer games, my first trip to Disney, introducing me to the music of Elvis and Johnny Cash, listening to me scream Jesse McCartney lyrics at the top of my lungs, and he recorded every. thing. Christmas? Recorded. Birthday party? Recorded. A lazy Sunday? Recorded. But that was the early 2000s, long before the age of smart phones... so of course so many floppy discs and CDs have been lost in that time... so many memories gone. And this is where my other happiness and jealousy come from most. For years, I thought "I remember everything about my dad, I remember his voice, the way his polos felt, the way his stubble felt when I poked his face to tell him he needed a shave". Then I cleaned out my grandparents house after their passing and found home videos. My heart broke watching the Christmas morning videos because I couldn't recognize the voice of my own dad. I had went so long without hearing it that I made up a new tone. I just feel sad I don't have this blessing of archived Snapchats, videos, Photos, and voicemails on my phone like she does but I am so happy she will not forget his voice ever. I'm so happy she will not have to feel the exact same pain I've had brewing since 2007. I'm so grateful for her and our friendship. We already had a lot in common and are a good balance, but this is not something I wanted to share because it hurts so much.

There's so much more I could say, but I won't bore you guys. It just got me thinking while I love being helpful and taking care of people when they need it, I'm exhausted. Slowly switching gears, all the fanfics and one shots that are flying off the presses right now are lovely and you are all so talented!! With that being said, I think some people can relate to this feeling I have: taking care of others while neglecting yourself emotionally and not wanting to burden anyone with your emotions since you have made yourself believe they're less valid because they're the same silly problems over and over again. I would really appreciate if anyone would like to write a sweet Eddie Munson or Steve Harrington (honestly any of age male will do romantically speaking) fluff relating to that feeling, or the entire window to my soul I typed up. I know there has to be more people than just me feeling this way, even if it's not a dead dad. I think another great prompt would be a discussion with Eleven similar to the day I had. If you feel inspired, please write for any character; platonic or romantic it's your art!

I'm not the most amazing at communicating feelings but this is the fandom I come to for comfort. I don't want anything I shared to be misconstrued, I'm heartbroken for my friend and I will help her every step of the way for as long as she needs me (even when she doesn't know it because I used to be the same). And I know reliving my trauma right now does not outweigh what she's going through in any way. I just thought this could be a deeper look into a rough season of life and inspire something in all of you wonderful writers.

Even if you don't write, thanks for reading. I had to get that off of my chest. 🤍

-T

[captainchocolatesstuff]

I'm sorry, but i really love your writing, and i was wondering if i could maybe request Kirishima, Eraserhead, Present Mic, Shigaraki and Hawks with a reader / so who is grieving because their pet died? Pretty personal i guess, it's fine if you don't want to. Just wanted to ask.

I honestly felt this personally, I lost my pittie recently and it was one of the reasons why i didn't update for a while, i hope this brings you comfort as it did me. I got rather teary eyed while writing this too but it helped.

Loss of a Pet/Companion

I wanna bet that you introduced your pet sometime around entering a relationship with Eijiro, he got to know the little fella and probably even got the “approval” of your companion

As much as we love our dear fourleged (or otherwise) friends, it’s unfortunate that they can’t stay with us forever, so when Eijiro finds you sad because of the loss of your friend he will be there for you if you want him there

He’s willing to give you the space you need if you need it, but if he knows you really need him he will be there to hold you and lend his shoulder for you to cry on, he is hurt too because he knows he’ll miss them,  but not as hurt as you because you knew them longer than he did, still the lingering pain can sting  

As much as he would like to get you a new companion he wants to be sure that you are in the right headspace, he’ll talk about it with you too, if you are ready to have another companion he will be with you every step of the way and will reassure you that you are NOT replacing your friend with another, you are in the process of healing and that is fine, he wants you to take your time he won’t rush you or talk about getting a pet anytime soon when you are hurting

As i said, he is there for you every step of the way, he’ll comfort you and be there for you in your time of need but he’ll respect any boundaries you have when it comes down to it, he knows that this kind of pain will stick with you for a while, you’ll go down memory lane as wave of emotions come and go, and you’ll have lingering phantom occurrences of your long gone friend but he’ll let you know that you don’t have to go through this alone

Shouta can understand, he has pet of his own and as much as he loves them he knows there will be a time when they eventually leave him behind, he doesn’t like to think about it too often but will be reminded of these thoughts, especially when it was you who relieved to him as to why you were in the state that he found you in 

He stayed with you for as long as you needed him, as stoic as he can look it doesn’t mean that he’s emotionally unavailable, he is there for you and he is gentle when handling you whether he is using words or tenderly holding you as you cry on him

He is willing to take you out on a night stroll and miss a day at work if it means that your headspace will be stable, he understands the pain of loss especially if you lost someone special to you, your companion is someone who is special to you just as his are to him, he knows that the pain is lasting and will leave lingering aches once it all passes eventually but even then he’ll stay for as long as he can

He doesn’t see the point in bringing up the subject of getting a new pet, to him you’ll eventually come across that road once everything is cleared up and it will ultimately be your decision and on your terms, he can make those decisions for you but he will be there to support you and give you brief suggestions if you are still thinking about it

If you happen to come across his cat he wouldn’t mind them being around you if they are bringing you a sense of comfort, he doesn’t try hiding them either and is likely to only invite you to his home if he senses you need at least a little more comfort than what he can provide, he knows animals can be therapeutic on several occasions, but for the most part he wants you to be okay with it

Like Eijiro, I get the feeling that you’d likely introduce your friend to your rather loud boyfriend, but to take things a little further I want to say that he is right there with you the whole time when the news hit that your companion passed away, he knows this is likely to affect you more than him but still be can’t help but share that pain with you 

I wanna say that he spend just as much time with your pet whenever he went to see you at your home, that was how he was able to get so attached your companion, he does his best to comfort you while you’re at your most vulnerable he sympathizes with you on this because while he doesn’t think about it too often he does know the following pain that comes along with loving something, someone, too much  

On his radio show, he will put on a playlist dedicated to your companion ones that you listened to when they were still around, honestly this would be the most bittersweet thing he’s done for anyone, and if you listen o is radio I imagine that it will take you down memory lane, there is a lingering hurt but an eventual healing

Hizashi, similarly to Shouta, wouldn’t bring up the topic of getting another pet, at least for a while until he sees that you are back on your feet and that you had completely healed from losing your dear pet, he’s slow to bring the discussion into a conversation and when he gets the green light he’ll go out to find your new friend that you both will live on with

I see him as the type to spoil his pets and lovers, always giving unconditional love and smoothing you and your pets with hugs and kisses, he’s a good man that will stand with you through thick and thin when it comes to the hardships of losing your pet/companion, and I don’t think he’ll be leaving anytime soon

I want to think that Keigo eventually warmed up to your pet, since he wasn’t used to having animals around (due to his upbringing), and he found them really endearing as he got to know them through you, so when news gets to him about your pet passing away he is quick to go to your first

He does his best to comfort you, weather it’s staying by your side for hours or just laying on the bed doing nothing but talk he is attentive when it comes down to what you need in that moment, he knows your hurting and he is trying to put himself in your shoes, he knows that they were dear to you and that your hurting from the loss and once he understands he can see why you loved your pet so dearly when he reflects his time with them 

He won’t make lightheaded comments, but he will listen to all the stories you have as you go down memory lane, he’ll add in his own stories once he feels that you are okay and comfortable talking about your pet

Keigo doesn’t see the need to bring up the topic of getting another pet, when you are ready you are ready, but a hidden part of him wants to surprise you with something he knows you’ll love and treasure, if he sees that you improved and moved on with a healthy and balanced mindset he will gift you a new friend that probably grew on him at some point during their adoption

While Keigo was uneasy in the beginning of getting along with your dear companion he does grow to appreciate the four-legged/winged/scaly/wet friend and grows an understanding of what it is like to have one so loved and cherished that when they leave they leave a lasting impact, and he learns it all through you and your dearest friend, it’s a lesson he learns to appreciate

He understands, he knows what it is like to lose a companion you could consider family (he just had the unfortunate time to develop his quirk), he also understands the pain behind that but he won’t go about comforting you so openly, at least not when the others are around

If he senses that you are in a stable headspace, he’ll bring you video games or place you on his lap if you just feel like watching, he’s more prone to showing comfort through action rather than words, though he will speak when it it most needed of him to do so, and if you don’t feel like speaking at all he won’t mind holding you close as you watch him play, an in a way it is it’s own form of comfort

He will listen to whatever story you have about your dear little friend, and he likely meet them several times to grow a reluctant affection for them, but he wouldn’t be as affected as you are since you had them for a longer time than he knew them, he’ll listen to all the memories you have of your pet and maybe ask a few questions here and there, he doesn’t mind listening to what stories and tales you have about them, from their funny little habits that made them unique from their species to how goofy they were when you were around 

Honestly he just happens to bring in a stray or injured animal by the time you’ve healed and moved on, something in the back of his mind pestered him to not leave the animal behind so he just scooped them up and took them along, though he is rather quick to remember that you might not want an animal around for a while and openly tells you that he doesn’t mind putting them in an adoption center if you’re not open to taing in an animal, thankfully you are and he might of released a breath he didn’t know he was holding in (the man likely got a bit attached to the little thing, not that he’ll admit to that)

He understands the love and pain that comes with raising and caring for animals, he had unfortunate circumstances that lead to him becoming the man he is now, so while he would be rather reluctant to have another one around he can understand the tranquility that can come with it and he knows that it is the same for you, it can bring you a sense of peace and healing, he doesn’t show it often but he is rather content with raising an animal alongside you that both of you can love and care for

[chubbyreaderwriter]

Diet?

Chubby Thor x Plus Size/Chubby Reader

Imagine: Thor thinks he should go on a diet and it brings up some of your old insecurities. 

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Despite what people would assume about you, you loved your body and had a lot of confidence. Of course, you hadn't always felt this way but through the years, as you grew older and wiser and had lots of supportive people around you, you slowly begun to see yourself differently. You weren't the same insecure teenager you once were and you were much happier. The main reason being a certain thunder god in your life. 

You and Thor first got together soon after the events of the battle against Thanos in Wakanda and you understood his pain of losing everyone you loved to someone else’s actions while feeling like it was your fault. Thor originally accompanied you everywhere because you brought him a little comfort and being around you was a distraction that he very eagerly welcomed. After time, it became more than that and the two of you developed feelings for each other. 

During the five years, You and Thor had moved to New Asgard with the people of the ‘old Asgard’. Somehow, Korg and Miek were invited to live with the two of you but you didn't mind all that much, they were both as friendly as can be. Over time, you watched as Thor lost himself in his video games, beer and junk food. He barely left the house, leaving you to go out and get groceries every few days when Thor complained about a lack of something. There was still a lot of love for one another but he showed it in different ways. Before, Thor was more than happy to shout his affection towards you for anyone to hear, but now the most you’d get out of him was a “Thank you, dearest.” without him even looking away from the tv screen. 

When Bruce and Rocket suddenly turned up on your doorstep after five years, you were surprised to say the least but you were very grateful to hear of their improvement and unlike Thor, you were willing to listen to their ideas on how they could bring back everyone who disappeared. When they left, you were the one to convince Thor to join the team once again. You came along with him, not quite trusting him to go on his own. 

Thor was grateful for your presence as he walked along the others once again. He didn't tell you he was nervous, but he didn't have to. You could see it and you did your best to help him with his worries even though you were scared yourself. If you Thor through them trying to bring everyone back, you weren't sure what you would do. 

It all seemed to go by so quick and before you knew it, the war was over and Thanos was defeated for good, the others returning safely back to Earth. Sadly, there was always a consequence and you were sad to see Tony and Natasha gone. You hadn’t known Tony well but Thor had spoken highly of him and that was good enough for you to know he was a good man. You had been close with Natasha, on the other hand, and her death effected you greatly. 

After Tony’s funeral and Thor had crowned Valkyrie as the new Queen of New Asgard, Thor moved the two of you into the new Avengers tower. Everyone was getting closer, trying to heal themselves of the deaths of their close friends, practically family. Thor and you often spent most of the day in your room, until one day you noticed Thor seemed uneased about something. When the two of you lay down for bed, you put your head on his chest, “What’s troubling you?” You felt Thor hold you closer to him, “It's nothing, my love.” 

You shifted to lean on your right arm, half sitting up and giving him a look that told him you weren't going to drop it. After all you had been through, you figured it would be something about Tony, his mother, his brother or someone else he lost but it wasn't. “I want to go on one of those diets and work out to get back into shape. I feel ashamed to look like this.” There was a flicker of sadness in your eyes but it was so quick that Thor missed it. 

You laid back down and while you listened to Thor’s soft snoring, you stayed awake and thought about what Thor said. You knew it shouldn't effect you this much but it did. You had always loved Thor because of his personality, his looks had never been the most important thing to you. You hadn't minded when he gained weight, thinking he suited both body types. Though you had prided yourself on being able to keep yourself at the same weight over the five years, you were starting to feel some familiar doubts creeping back in. If he was so ashamed to look like he did now, what did that mean for how he looked at you? You had never been the skinniest of girls but you were told that was a good thing. 

Slowly, you escaped Thor’s clutches on the bed and walked out onto the balcony. You were just dressed in your panties and one of Thor’s baggy shirts that went to your mid thighs. It did little to protect you from the cold night air but you didn't mind, it felt oddly pleasing to be numb for once. With your arms around your waist, you cringed from the feeling of your stomach against the shirt. Did Thor think it was too big? Did he think your thighs were too soft? Was he ashamed to be seen with you? 

Even now, he could get anyone he wanted, being the god of thunder and one of the strongest Avengers. Did he think he could do much better than you? You though so but did he? These questions were slowly eroding all of your self love you'd struggled to build up over the past few years. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't realise that it was now in the early hours of morning and Thor would be waking up about now. 

By now, your body was physically numb from the cold air and you couldn't really feel just how cold it was getting. It wasn't until Thor went looking for you and found you sat outside, wrapping his arms around you from behind, did you realise just how long you had been outside. 

“My love, you’re cold to the touch. Come inside.” You let yourself be carried inside and sat down on the couch next to Thor. You smiled at him but it didn't reach your eyes and this time, Thor noticed. “What upsets you, my love?” Coming to terms with your insecurities after all this time was a little overwhelming for you and you could quickly feel the tears building up in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks any second now. Seeing this, Thor panicked a little and pulled you close to him, holding you to his chest, “Please let me in on your troubles, I want to help you.” 

“Are you ashamed of me?” Thor pulled back to look at you, “What gave you that impression, my love. Has someone been putting these evil thoughts in your head?” You looked down at your hands in your lap, “What you said last night, you said you were ashamed of your body and I assumed that meant you were ashamed of me, because I know I’m not the thinnest of women.” 

Thor tilted your head up to look at him, “My love, I could never be ashamed of you. You are my Queen and I love you and your beautiful body. I am sorry I made you feel otherwise but I meant I wanted to improve myself to be someone that you would be happy to have by your side.” You felt your heart close to bursting from Thor’s confession. You cupped his face and pulled him down for a gentle kiss, “I couldn't be happier with you, Thor. I don't care what you look like, I love you for who you are, not your looks. Although, if it helps, not a day goes by when I don't think about how attractive my King is.” 

Thor smirked and his hands moved to grip yours hips, “Is that so?” You nodded and bit your bottom lip, your hands running through his long, blonde hair. Thor chuckled and stood, holding you in his arms, “Well then, perhaps I should show you just how much you affect your King.” Your giggles echoed through the hallways as Thor carried you back to your shared bedroom. 

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Mihael Keehl

You can check tosikowrites tag for more! Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

The most straightforward among main three of Wammy’s boys. His interpretation of own feelings is excellent and he makes sure everybody around knows about them. If he hates you, you’ll feel a burning hole in your back whether it is because of intense staring or literal bullet. If he loves you, you’ll be surrounded by abundance of affection.

When it comes to person he loves, Mello is very vocal. Words do matter, they oblige you and put responsibility on your shoulders. That’s why he loves to brag about his dearest to the closest friends, and even acquaintances know about this one special person. Another important thing is nickname, which Mello chooses based on the brightest features of character/appearance. Baby, honey, dearest are common too but he feels that  they deserve exceptional treatment and exceptional nickname.

He absolutely loves physical affection. Skin to skin contact gives him weird sensation right in the head as if he can physically feel neurons releasing dopamine. It also helps with keeping his anxiety under control.

By the way, sometimes inferiority complex gets the best of him, and in these moments he is extremely capricious. For the same reason Mello may act like his loved one deserves everything, while he can go with bare minimum.

He is great at reassurances. The second he realizes his loved one is insecure, upset, lost, the gears in his head start zealously turning. The words he uttered are always spoken in the right tone and able to touch the necessary strings of the soul. At the same time Mello always has doubts in the efforts made.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Friendship with Mello carries spirit of 80s-90s. It’s a wild ride he once invited you to and then you couldn’t get off. Stuff gets messy, stuff gets hot, but it doesn’t matter until you both have fun.

He will roast you so much and will never get offended if you roast him in response. Mello aims for a good laugh only. His favorite entertainment is to go shopping together just to critic each other’s outfits.

You better move that body when he drags you on the dance-floor. Blasting music and colorful lights make him feel like a fish in the water so Mello will try to teach you dance. Yes, from the easiest ones to Michael Jackson’s moonwalk.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddles are essential for relationship with Mello. He enjoys snuggle up to his loved one on calm evenings, when there’s nothing to disturb the peace. Warmness of loved one’s head on his chest and smell of their skin calm him down better than chamomile-mint tea. He loves to listen to the sound of another person’s heartbeat as well.

Mello has one pet peeve tho: frequent head pats and hair stroking lead to greasy hair and this is exactly what he hates. If they put hand on his beautiful blond locks, he will take them by the finger and place their palm on his lips. This is a small but very loud gesture.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The thought of settling down     never popped up in his head. Mello is way too young, he wants to live his     life to the maximum without thinking about another dirty plate in the sink     or how long it takes to make boiled eggs. Based on this you can say he     doesn’t like to do any housework. His cooking skills are decent but he     prefers creative mess to boring order. Mello likes to help someone in     kitchen when he is in the good mood.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Nervous type he is, Mello doesn’t want to end this relationship. But he has to. But he can’t. He is indecisive and hesitates on the way to them. Hell, if they are in good mood or overly excited, Mello won't say a word about break up. In his mind it has to be like pulling a tooth – painful but necessary, - but real life doesn’t work that way. When the moment finally comes he cannot keep his voice steady. Mello tries to end it as fast as possible and hold back a scream because yelling at his loved one is something he promised he’ll never do. Actually, I can see him doing something impulsive to blow off steam. Breaking random stuff, for example, or shooting bottles.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

No. Getting married is too much. He can’t see wedding bells ring no matter how hard he tries. Every day he becomes more confident in thought that strong sincere relationship do not need bureaucracy in the form of marriage. The only time you need a marriage certificate is during the divorce process. Mello isn’t 100% sure but pretty close to this percentage. If his loved one insists on marriage he will immerse in conflicting feelings. Then his next actions will depend on many factors but Mello definitely will try to explain his  position and convince them in its     validity.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Mello is on the rougher side when it comes to both physical and emotional affection. Childhood in the orphanage, involvement with the mafia, psychological issues, and responsibility placed on his shoulders taught it is necessity to be tough to survive in this world. When he lets his guard down nasty inner voice keeps reminding Mello about situations in which it could be a critical mistake. This leads us to the next point.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Here he comes, another  touched-starved male with trust issues. Mello needs time to get used to soft touch of other’s person hands. Sometimes he puts too much strength in his hugs and it may come across a little rough. Likes them anyway, takes initiative 90% of the time.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It completely and entirely depends on his gut feeling. Something elusive tells him whether to trust a person or not, it’s not a rational decision. As soon as this strange sensation appears, he will immediately calmly utter three treasured words, and it’s not even so important for him to hear them in return. Mello just wants another person to know that they have become an integral part of his life.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

In addition to being easily jealous, Mello is scary as hell when someone is hitting on his loved one. If he witness such insolence, he will be extremely vocal and, well, unexpectedly rude. He is not afraid to get physical too.

If it’s his loved one who is acting flirtatious, Mello will be pissed off as well. His feelings are explosive mix of disappointment, anger, malcontent. It’s better to get off his way and let him cool a little before trying to explain anything or make excuses. In a fit of jealous rage he may say some terrible things which he’ll regret later.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The most passionate kisser imaginable. He loves to kiss and he knows how to do it properly so why would you complain. He tends to forget about personal boundaries in process so make out sessions can get really… touchy. Anyway, loves to shower his loved one with kisses all over them, but lip smooches are his favorite. At the same time Mello doesn’t care where they kiss him because of solid fact he is being kissed.  

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He is so awkward. Calm/gentle/kind children are ok, but if he has to deal with angry little shit who throws tantrum whenever possible, he will flip out. Being around his own children is more or less bearable but don’t expect much when it’s someone else's kids annoying poor man. Mello definitely will teach his favorite one all of the swear words as a joke.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

On a free day no matter who wakes up first you will spend another hour in the bed cuddling. Then life will pour cold water on you when Mello gets frustrated with making breakfast. This may grow into small quarrel but most of the time he pulls himself together and you two find a satisfying compromise. During breakfast on work week you rarely hear any plans for the day from him but he stays curious about your schedule just to see if he can catch you for a lunch or a short call. Nothing special, really.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Night is his favorite time of the day. Neon signs, coolness, slight buzz of a big city work as a charm on Mello, he feels free from people’s staring, empty chatter, and daily duties. If he could show the world as he sees it to his loved one, at least approximate image, dim reflections of pale moon in the high-rises’ glass, he would. So to do it he takes them on late night walks and rides, new places every time.  

Cafes and restaurants are another of his weaknesses, not only pastry shops, but also small diners with food that would seem boring to many. Take-outs are frequent too because chilling under the lilac sky and stargazing with Mello are 10 out of 10.

Don't let yourself be fooled, he likes to stay inside as much. Thanks to Matt, you’ll spend most of the time playing video-games and drinking pop until one of you starts yawning.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Mello is straightforward within adequate limits. You wouldn’t expect person to blur out “I hunt a Kira with my genius rival that works with FBI and Japanese Police” at any point of your movie night anyway, right? He does not pretend and does not resort to excessive secrecy but prefers to reveal facts about himself one by one.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Quickly gets angry, quickly cools down. Sadly, he his emotions are too strong and he does not know how to handle them and it often ends in heated argument. Even during a quarrel he feels his actions are hurting you but it’s not something he can stop at the click of a finger. After everything has settled down he is extremely remorseful and tried to make amends but Mello never ever promises to change. Why you make ask? In that case actions speak louder than words.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Remembers the stupidest things. He can’t remember any important dates like the day you started dating but will remind you about the most embarrassing thing you did in high school. Hell, he forgets your number sometimes but can describe the exact clothes you wore on that rainy day when car splashed you.

Unknown forces help Mello in choosing a birthday present. He has no clue what you wanted and if you wanted anything at all. Surprisingly, it always hits the mark.

Tried to write down “important” stuff about you once. Failed miserably. Decided to never do it again.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time when they confessed their love to him since Mello rewound this moment in his head like a hundred times. He remembers what color sky was and what song was playing on the background and those little details made this moment more beautiful than the masterpieces of the Louvre. Joy overwhelmed him and he couldn’t get this picture off his head for a few days too.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Not that paranoid protective and obviously doesn’t need to be protected However, he will be fluttered if person showed that they care. He will freak put if they don’t answer his calls or messages for hours and in the case of real danger he will take that gun and shoot someone as a warning.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts more effort in the beginning of relationship and its amount slowly declines with time. The closer he gets, the less he needs to try to cover up his sharp edges and imperfections or try to distract person with some kind of mask, mannerism, maneuver. Playing nice in early stages of dating gives him chance to throw the bait, to show he is able to be that datable material. A completely different question is whether a person wants to stay with him in spite of his inner demons.

Mello likes to surprise them with something special on anniversaries. Expect romantic late night motorcycle ride, car dates with take-out, and, of course, gifts. He likes to make/buy a presents person will like, something they wanted for a long time but couldn’t afford.

Acts extra-extra after anger tantrums. He knows he fucked up, okay, he just can’t control himself. Yes, it’s a lot easier to cover up consequences with huge bouquet and box of chocolates than to correct behavior learned over the years.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

If you ever had to deal with person stubborn as a donkey, you’ve seen demo-version of Mello’s behavior. Making compromises is not his strategy, so get ready for “this is the only right option”, “I said what I said”, “Yeah, go ahead, I’ll do it my way”. He immediately begins to sulk and spill his sassiness all over the place if things don’t go his way.

Doubtful impulsive decisions are most likely the cause of constant arguing and problem mentioned above. At first he does something (to say the least) stupid with impressive confidence. Then, after hours or days, his brains finally comes up with reasonable arguments but now it’s too late to back out.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

It’s obvious Mello likes to take care of himself. His sense of style is indisputable, he sticks to it and never fails to embellish the picture with shiny jewelry or other accessories. There may be dirt on his leather boots and soot on fur hood but they only complete his conceived image.

Probably has one company from which he buys all the hair care products. Feeling of easy combing through smooth silky hair before bed is another of his a little happiness.

How does he have such perfect face despite eating chocolate everyday? Mello is fond of beauty creams, masks, serums, and he doesn’t allow a single pimple ruin his day. Also, he uses different healing creams to soften the scars.

He would love to mess around with loved one trying new beauty products. There’s nothing better than taking care of each other.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, yes, yes. It doesn’t matter why they are not in his life anymore, he feels devastated. All attempts to distract himself fail as he goes back to thinking about them every five-ten minutes, and not only thinking but overthinking. Sometimes his thoughts throw him back to the past, first meeting, first kiss, and it gnaws Mello even more.

If they left for some reason, he will try to get them back. A chance meeting in the evening is completely planned, he also rehearsed his lines in the head more than a thousand times just to stay calm and avoid going off on tangent.  

If they died, he will attend their grave for a few months. It doesn’t help much. He becomes incredulous and gloomy, scaring everyone around with frequent mood swings and defiant behavior. I can see him growing more actively aggressive and acting like he doesn’t have anything to lose too.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Because of his chocolate addiction, Mello has to visit dentist’s office quite frequently. The problem is he hates dentists and everything about them. The sound of a dental drill makes his skin crawl.

Mello can pull off any style, rock any outfit. He can dress up in trash bag and be fabulous as always. You can splash that man with the dirtiest water and he will still shine bright like a diamond. Unholy beauty.

He was that kid that got the highest score on Facebook picky sheet. He hates broccoli, never eats mushrooms, avoids pickles. Name any controversial food – he doesn’t eat it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Mello can deal with pushy people but manipulators drive him nuts. As soon as he notice the smallest attempt to manipulate him, he will lash out. So you have to be the master manipulator to twist him around your finger or the batshit crazy person to pull an obvious manipulation on him.

Absence of communication. He won’t play mind games and try to guess your thoughts, so you better speak out your mind.

Oh, Mello doesn’t want a person who nods to everything he says. Sharing personal opinions plays a big role in relationships and he won’t agree to lose such way to connect.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Mello sticks to adequate sleeping schedule. His lifestyle forces him to break it from time to time but he quickly makes up for sleepless nights. He doesn’t even get moody or irritated. On the contrary, his reactions slow down, and the only thing he is interested in is comfortable bed.

Speaking of comfort, Mello likes to wrap himself in fluffy blankets. The more pillows there are around him, the better his mood will be in the morning.

Dark chocolate rich in magnesium can help you sleep better so Mello prefers switch from milk chocolate to dark in the evening. It is not uncommon to find a wrapper foil on the nightstand in his bedroom.

[crimsonredemption]

Can I have a Red Dead matchup? I’m a straight girl with long brown hair and brown eyes. I’m 5’5”-5’6.” My friends describe me as dramatic, funny, and kind, and I’m always willing to assist or talk with them if they need help. My favorite things to do are read, write, play video games, watch movies, and play with my pets. I want to write books in the future. The ideal way for me to start a relationship is to become friends, then have it slowly lead up to less platonic and more romantic feelings.

Hello, yes you sure can have one! 

I ship you with Josiah Trelawny! 

Josiah had left the camp for almost 6 months and when he returned he was pleasantly surprised to see a few new faces. He always made a grand entry one or the other way but when his eyes landed on you he knew instantly that he HAD to leave a good impression. 

He doesn’t take things too far too quickly though, he’s a gentleman through and through! He’ll make polite conversation, ask you about that book you were reading earlier. If it’s something he knows, he’ll tell you his opinions and if he didn’t know it, he’ll listen to every word you have to say. 

While he makes no secret of his feelings and his desire to get closer to you he would never overstep his boundaries. He keeps a polite distance and waits for you to come to him. Josiah is an experienced man, he knows how to enchant and woo a woman. But he’s not only interested in you because he finds you beautiful! Whenever you’re out of camp, he talks to the other members about you. Trying to get as much information as he can and what he hears warms his heart. 

You are loved and admired by almost all the people there, not many had bad things to say about you. They mentioned how you are only of the most trustworthy persons around, never spilling any secrets. Tilly and Mary-Beth gush about your kindness, something that just seems to come naturally to you. Others tell Josiah how funny you are and how much you brighten everyone’s day just by telling a few jokes or funny stories. 

While he appreciates all that they told him it wasn’t anything new. 

He watches you around camp, sitting by yourself and writing in your notebook. You’re so focused on your task that you barely even register people coming up to you, but when they start talking to you, asking for a favor or for your help you will always get up in a heartbeat. Abandoning your writing in a second and with a smile on your lips.

His heart always skipped a beat when you smiled, it didn’t even have to be directed at him. Of course, he enjoyed it, even more, when the smile was gifted to him. 

The two of you spend more and more time together, whenever he was at camp, your friendship growing deeper day by day. He sometimes left for a few days, sometimes even weeks but he always made sure to bring you something. Mostly books that he had read on the way and thought that you would enjoy as well. He leaves a commentary at the end of every book, sharing his thoughts on the topic and some sort of review. He always starts them with “My dearest friend Y/N,...” 

Until one day when he was about to start writing his commentary, it hit him that you weren’t just friends anymore. He loved you. The notion surprised him even though he always knew that he was sweet on you, but he never dared thinking the emotion would evolve so drastically. He scratched through the words he wrote and corrected himself. 

The next time he was in camp he searched for you to present his gifts and the book with the commentary turned love letter to you, but he couldn’t find you anywhere! After leaving the book and some flowers on your cot he made his way out of camp again. His heart was pounding as if he was a boy of 18 again, about to confess to a girl for the first time. Quite ridiculous! 

That night he was invited to a theatre opening, which originally he planned on bringing you along. After about an hour of mingling and shallow conversation, he saw a familiar silhouette approaching him in the corner of his eyes. It was you, marching in his direction with a stern expression your face, followed by three servants calling out to her “Miss please, you don’t have an invitation” “I told you I’m here with Mr. Trelawny!” “MISS PLEASE” 

The whole situation was hilarious to Josiah and he couldn’t help chuckling when you finally reached him. He could see why they wouldn’t believe you, you certainly didn’t look like you were about to attend a dinner party in your dirty working clothes. 

“Well well well this little cowgirl here seems to be lost?” he said while taking your hand to place a kiss on the palm of it. Your face softened when you looked up at him. “Not at all. I’m exactly where I want to be” you whispered as you closed the distance between your bodies, kissing him in front of the eyes of all the guests. 

“Oh my Y/N...We’re going to be the talk of the town I’m afraid” 

“You know I like the drama, and don’t worry I brought a dress,” you said with a wink. 

He watched as the servants led you away to change clothes as the words of the house owner reached his ears. “What a beauty Josiah, you are a lucky man.” 

“Indeed”  

[sambart93]

Final 31 [2018 Edition] Day 17: New Journey to The West MC Ranking!

So I got completely obsessed with this TV the past 2 - 3 weeks and I’ve managed to watch all the seasons that are out so far completely! So now I think it’s time I give my MC rankings and what I think about everyone because why the fuck not (and I don’t think I planned enough things for the 31 days if I’m being honest, so making shit up as I go along xD). Here we go!

So over the past 6 seasons we started with 4 (Kang Ho Dong, Lee Soo-Geun, Eun Ji-Won and Lee Seung-Gi), then Seung-Gi got changed out (for Ahn Jae-Hyun) after one season (due to going into the Army), and then two newbies joined (Kyuhyun and Minho), then when Kyuhyun went to the army, someone else came in (P.O.). So technically we only have 6 active members right now, but they could easily get the whole cast back and be a group of 8 if they wanted once Kyuhyun finishes his service in May 2019. But anyway, onto the rankings but to be honest, I love (almost) all of them in this seriously! They’re all angels and funny and ridiculous!

8. Kang Ho Dong - I know I’m harsh on him. I know how beloved he is. I know he’s a great guy who helps motivate people, and he can be really hilarious and he says some great things sometimes but... he is just too loud for me. I got about 3 seasons into this when I realised ‘he talks way too much’ and he’s often yelling rather than speaking, and just personally, if I had to work with him on a tv show, I would completely lose it after spending like 3 days with him. I have sensitive hearing, even just watching him from my screen at home, I’m like ‘my poor ears! They bleed!’, because he’s just too loud. He’s more than a charming, great, kind guy but just the thought of being around him with that natural volume he has... I couldn’t do it. And he talks for such an unnecessarily long amount of time and he repeats himself a lot. Even the TV show got to a point where they show the sign saying ‘Ten Minutes Later’, and he still going on about something that could’ve easily been said in about 3 words or 2 sentences. Or people like Eun Ji Won on the show now state ‘Great! He’s gunna complain about this for the next 15 minutes now! Thanks!’ which shows that even his coworkers must get pissed off by it sometimes and the only way they can cope is by joking through it. I just also can’t deal with people who repeat themselves and their stories. I get the hype around him but he’s just too loud and speaks for longer than necessary.

7. Lee Seung-Gi - He was only on the show for one season (which was about 2 or 3 hours long or so) so I didn’t really get to know him. But he was fun, he was intelligent, he always helped the rest of the cast out when speaking Chinese or trying to figure things out. He seemed super nice, it’s a shame we only had him for a season and it’s a shame he hasn’t returned to the show yet. I’m super hoping that when Kyuhyun finishes his military service, they’re introduce both of them back in at the same time -- the shows cast has to stay on even numbers (for reasons) so I hope we have a double come back in the next season! I’d like to get to know him more.

6. P.O (from Block B) - He is also down here just because, like Seung-Gi, he’s only been in it for one season so far. But he’s very funny and unintentionally funny which is the best kind! Let me show you the ridiculousness of one of the challenges, and everyone (staff, cast and audience) just died laughing: here and here. I also love seeing his relationship and friendship with MinHo and how they support and disown each other at different points of the show. I hope he continues into the next season too!

5. MinHo (from Winner) - He was definitely the underdog in the beginning of the show, but very quickly through his stupidity and stupid ego, he got into some ridiculous and hilarious shenanigans. He is just a joy to watch! I love how much the older cast treat him like and son, and how much they look out for him in certain challenges. But I also love how he encourages the older ones to try something ‘hip’ or ‘young’ or something they don’t usually do. So getting them to listen and dance to his music, and letting them get comfortable. He always give encouragement to the other members in the challenges too. Also when he does a 160; the older cast think he’s up to no good but then ends up doing the most selfless thing instead and dumbfounding them every time is just... so precious and great to see! He is a complete sweetie and he’s so precious and so kind hearted.

4. Kyuhyun (from Super Junior) - I feel like he wasn’t in the show long enough before he had to leave. I enjoyed him so much! He was the soundtrack and movie wizard! But whenever they lost or he got something wrong the frustration he had and his forever ‘sad’ face was just hilarious! Also kudos to the production staff who played his song EVERYTIME he got or looked sad xD it was perfect! I really really love how quickly he and Jae-Hyun became friends too! Their quick, blossoming friendship (that still continues today) is just so pure and wonderful! I cannot wait for him to come back and join this group. I want to see where he goes with this crazy lot!

3. Lee Soo-Geun - We all know how I much I love this man (see here) and his witty banter and comedic timing does not stop just at Knowing Bros, he also uses it here and he’s so god damn funny! He has the right amount of balance between joking around, keeping people from being down, knowing when it’s serious and knowing when it’s not appropriate to crack a joke. He’s just such a well rounded guy and I enjoy seeing him so much on screen! I’ll probably try and hunt down the rest of his tv shows because I enjoy his personality and tv presence so much!

First and Second was so Hard to Choose!!!! But here we go...

2. Ahn Jae-Hyun - this man has stolen my heart. I think he’s just the sweetest, dearest person and he’s so intentionally and unintentionally the funniest person on this show! And he’s so good at stirring shit up! I love him! I love how he was introduced as ‘the actor’ who was very awkward and quiet with everyone, but within less than a season of the show, he showed us how nice and sweet he is, he showed us how bad at sport he is (which is hilarious) and even is he can’t do it, he’s going to bloody try and usually that leds to comedy GOLD from him! I also love how very quickly he proved how sly and manipulating he can be during the challenges which shocked everyone because they never expected him to do such things because he is just a genuinely nice guy. But very soon he got the tag line of ‘New Crazy’ and he earned it rightly! xD I can relate to him so much on many topics and some things that he says, does and feels, and some parts of his personality I can relate to, and then the other part of him is just so purely good that you can’t not fall for him or like him! He’s such a great guy that has this crazy side. It’s beautiful to witness! I hope he continues for a long time with this cast! Also, I know I already said but, his relationship with Kyuhyun is just so GOOD!

1. Eun Ji Won - While Jae-Hyun is the ‘New Crazy’, Ji-Won is the ‘Original/Old Crazy’ and he deserves that title so much. He is INSANE. He cracks me up so much! He does the craziest and funniest things! I also love how angry he can get over the smallest things and argues with cast or staff so well -- but his temper is very quick so he gets over it soon xD And his obsessive with video games and things like Lego just speak to my heart so much! Also can we talk about his fucking weird but fucking hilarious sleeping habits?! Every season they show him sleeping and it’s the funniest thing ever! I would literally watch an entire episode of just clips of him sleeping throughout the show because it’s FUNNY. He also has positives too such as supporting the younger cast, and being considerate to everyone too. He’s great and he’s quickly become a favourite person of mine. Also his natural eye bags are HILARIOUS and they also speak to me on a personal and spiritual level. My eye bags are pretty much as bad as his xD

Some extra funny clips from the show here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

*

Seriously this show is amazing and everyone should watch it! All the cast are amazing and funny and stupid and witty and charismatic! Love this show so much and I deeply, deeply pray for a season 7!! Next year please!

[elfmeme]

Khonjin House Starters

*WARNING: Some starters have sensitive topics

"I think it's time to order a pep-pep-pep-pep-PEPerroni pizza!"

"GODDAMMIT. Alright let's try this again."

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING, _, YOU HANGED UP ON ME!"

"I can't use my fucking dick anymore because of you."

"I'M JUST TRYING TO GET A PIZZA!"

"I want you dead, you little prick. DEAD. You hear me?!"

"Well, if I'm going I'm taking my spaghetti with me."

"It's in the coooontraaaaact~!"

"Well, it doesn't matter anyways because this questions a real butt breaker."

"I think I swallowed a bottle cap."

"I've never burned down a house before."

"AND YOU NEVER WILL!"

"God, don't these people know that I'm busy trying to look for crab crab?"

"You didn't tell me that the crab crab was a crab!"

"It's like the saying: Life's a beach, and I'm the dune who can't sand to watch our crustacean comrades go unprotected by the long beach island arm of the claw."

"Wait. I can smell it...Crab."

"I'm going to die."

"I'm going to need to examine that bag, if you don't mind."

"Well, just don't, uh, mind me while I TENDERIZE the BAG! A LITTLE BIT!"

"Uh, sir, it's not what it looks like. I just have a really loud butt."

"Well, I just dropped it so I don't have a product anymore."

"Well, uh, well don't just stand there, like are you gonna take it or not?"

"Wow. Well, now that you mention that, I totally want- SYKE! WHOOOO!"

"WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

"Do you want this?? It's my most prized posession."

"I don't know, I found this cat in the garbage."

"Well, I'll just get down to it."

"It's okay, you can come in."

"Didn't you hear what I fucking said?!"

"I got to save the spaghetti!"

"The time. It has finally come. God, have mercy on all of us."

"What the fuck is the matter with you??"

"Well, s/he doesn't have to know that."

"I don't wanna break his/her heart, they're a cool chick."

"But that's a different plate of cookies for a different glass of milk."

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT 9/11 IS? I WAS THERE!!! On those planes."

"CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE, SCUMHOLE!"

"WHOOOO are you?"

"WAIT! DON'T TELL ME!"

"heheh...what a dick.."

"WHAAAAAT is this?"

"Eh, it's just a little scooty."

"Its just a little scooty. Don't fuck with it!"

"Well, yeah, but, the thing about that is that I....Am going to touch it."

"Alright, I won't touch it on one condition: You have to answer me one question."

"I KNEW IT!"

"Ladies and gentlemen......FFFUCK!"

"You're not as big as you think, broseph."

"The only rock you're gonna feel is the pavement!"

"Who the FUCK is talking about a rock?! Are you insane?!"

"S/he couldn't cheat on a math test, let alone cheat on me."

"The only C I can explain are the C four explosives planted under the floorboards."

"This whole place is going to hell."

"You're right, because it's C. Four. And planted the bombs, as previously stated, the ones you are standing on, with your feet, where they are, right there."

"You'll kill us both!"

"Both?! Oh, god NO!"

"Oh great. Of course. Always leave it to _ to fuck something up."

"Get the fuck out, RIGHT NOW!"

"But unfortunately for _ s/he will never find the chiwowow."

"What you don't understand is that I'm gonna fucking stick you like the pig you are if you don't."

"Shut the hell up at forever'o clock."

"How about you get me a PSPiece of pizza or you can Nintendo sixty-forget about ever surviving!"

"Heheh! A whole pep-pepperoni pizza all to myself-"

"Confirmed!"

"Die in your wildest of dreams!"

"You are a fool to stand against me, you idiot!"

"Personally, I prefer your ass."

"And the winner's me."

"If it isn't  __, my beeest friend!"

"That's a lot of people s/he's gotta fight."

"NO, S/HE'S A FRAUD! S/HE'S A FUCKING FRAUD! NO!"

"I am going to put a fucking bullet through my head."

"Listen, I got more degrees than a thermometer. You call me doc."

"Why are these names so goddamn long?!"

"I dunno, I've never been guilty before."

"I want every __ on my desk by the sixty-nineth hour, four-hundred-twenty days by now."

"Rob the place of every fuckboy."

"I want every desk on my desk."

"For the last fucking time, the rope isn't haunted!"

"Fuck it, just go!"

"It was across the street! Why do we need a map?!"

"What a wonderful day to be the king."

"I remember it like it was yesterday, it wasn't yesterday but that's how it felt."

"I DID IT!"

"I DIDN'T LIVE IN SACRAMENTO!"

"I'M NOT LOOKING FOR WOMAN! I'M LOOKING FOR PIZZA!"

"How about I give you a pair of scissors and cut out your favorite picture of _. And while you're at it, tape that picture to your face, so I can feel like I'm beating the shit out of him when I'm beating the shit out of you."

"I'M NOT IN THE MOOD FOR THAT FUCKING BULLSHIT!!"

"It's kind of mesmerizing, really."

"I despise every fiber of your being."

"I'm not involving myself with you. At all."

"It looks like a magic."

"I respect that. And by respect that I mean touch it."

"Have you guys seen my chia pet?"

"I feel like liquid."

"Do I look like someone who knows what the hell that is? Because I am, what was your question?"

"I wanna know how to get the hell out of here!"

"I will staple your face to a beehive."

"Ah, what a wonderful day to take a single step."

"The footage was doctored, you idiots!"

"You can't trust anyone, except for the one man I who can trust with my very life."

"Could you just let me speak for, like, one second?"

"Then what are you doing here, hotshot?"

"You ever heard about the joke with the kid who dissipated into the tides of time? Well, you never will."

"And I was an undercover cop the whole time, they were the criminal, I caught them....Which is what I would've said if I was a cop. I'm a murderer."

"Ah, what a wonderful day to not have Christmas money."

"Alright, I get it. I was looking to play cards but, uh, you can go fish."

"Wait a second, did you say cards as in, like..poker? As in, like, money?"

"But I ain't gonna play cards with some bitchy fishy who's trying to swim with the sharks. So how about you grab yourself a towel, and get out of the pool?"

"I'm gettin' my decks shuffled tonight, if you know what I'm saying!"

"Go back to the shallow end, __, this yaht doesn't have room for two. And I just sunked your career."

"Christmas ain't about making money! It's about making a shitton of money."

"Homie, are you trying to get a lambchop or a lamborghini? Come on, my boy, let's ride, let's talk the dirty."

"Don't. Trust. The streets."

"It was only a matter of time, probably for the rattle of a dime." 

"But money was not gonna buy their way out of this situation station."

"'EY! Could you PLEASE SHUT UP?!"

"Crisis averted."

"Sometimes in order to find the spider, you have to walk right into their web. Their spiderweb."

"Basically, I have no idea how to solve the case."

"Early to pep, early to shoot the shit."

"Don't pretend you're not here, I know you're here!"

"So, how far away is Six Flags?"

"Oh..That's, strange? I could've sworn we were going to Six Flags, considering I'm already IN THE CAR. AND WE'RE GOING TO SIX FLAGS!"

"Alright we made it, now lets find our guy."

"If I were a target, where would I be?"

"You got it! Just, uh, give me a second here, I'll be right back."

"I'veeee got the net!"

"So you're telling me, that if I scream once, I'm dead?"

"Wow, that's a nice cigar, I didn't know you vape."

"Look at this buffet, how could you pass this up?"

"Oh, great, just clone them. Call off the whole fucking funeral, who cares?"

"Can you actually do that?"

"Some people want to make it their own way, but I like to make it the gay way."

"Okay! I get it! it sucks, whatever!"

"EXCUSE ME?! Do I owe you something?!"

"Look, I had a rough day. I'm not looking for trouble."

"Okay, __, I get it. Laugh it up, alright?!"

"I can't die now! Not before I've played Dweebus: the Video Game."

"Today, I've decided to stop wasting my time with habits that just are fucking dumb."

"Oh, dearest __, your voice is like a porcelain gulder against the tides of white noise."

"Would you not cleanse my ears with one bout of conversation?"

"It's so quiet." 

"....S/He's gonna come in here any second now. And when s/he does, the loudest music you have ever heard in your life is gonna play."

"The sheer volume will destroy any speaker, any set of headphones will rupture and explode."

"And this horrible reality is approaching us, and I will be right here at ground zero."

"Could've been good if it were fire ants."

"Sorry to have wasted your time."

"I want to kill you on the principle of that stupid-ass question alone."

"I don't even know who you are!"

"You said you weren't him! I thought I recognized you!"

"Give me one good reason not to."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but there's an irony to be appreciated here."

"I know it'll be lost on you, but would you believe that you're not the only illusion that wants me dead?"

"You wanted him dead since the beginning."

"Kinda sleepy."

"And I'm kinda pissed. Probably don't have to tell you why either."

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna go to bed."

"I'm just gonna lie down here, I'm comfortable."

"You know what, you've had a hard day. You take a nap, and recharged, and all that."

"Wake up, you dumbass!"

"I was having this dream about this girl with really big thighs."

"In other words, a nightmare."

"What? Do you not find big thighs attractive?"

"Well, I guess everyone has their own personal opin- YOU ARE SO FULL OF SHIT!"

"What a wonderful day to experience an unabashedly horrfying piece of ribbon."

"It's a bow that makes bows, we could sell them for four dollars apiece! Cold hard cash, or credit."

"I'm gonna take a bunch of tampons and SHOVE THEM UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!"

"Don't worry, I can fix this. Which is what I would've said if I knew how."

"Nah, I don't remember that at all."

"I know what I want, and I know what I deserve."

"Good, I'm glad you know. But I don't."

"That sounds like a load of shit, I don't believe you."

"My greatest wish is for you to be castrated by a scorpion."

"You take five steps near this thing I'll do a tap-dance on your ribcage!"

"And I'm running out of patience."

"Yes I know, you're a special snowflake, come on we're running out of time!"

"It seems like you thought I was asking for second opinion."

"I would rather die at the hands of a frisbee than chase whatever crazy taxi it is you want me to go get."

"In fact, I'm calling your bluff, asshole!"

"Kill me with that frisbee. Do it."

"Could we really just do that?"

"Has technology really come this far?"

"I wanted to be a surprise."

"Sooo, what do you like best about me?"

"You're not ruining the surprise for me."

"Surpriiiiiiiiiise~."

"We're gonna fucking kill ourselves, go to heaven, and steal Jesus' shoes."

"You should not have done this."

"Well I did, so it looks like you'll just have to kill me."

"The power that was once upon you, is no longer yours."

"This existence doesn't need you anymore."

"People will DIE! Just because you lost someone doesn't mean everybody has to!"

"You think I'm playing you? How do you think you got here."

"GET THIS SHIT OFF ME!"

"And, as it turns out, uhh, limited time was actually unlimited time, and so it's gonna be there forever."

"I got a signed poster of Flute from Spy Kids, I know you wanna see this!"

"Yawn, YAWWWN!"

"I've heard mention of _ and obviously I'm here for this reason."

"Not to belabor the point, but this has never worked."

"Is this the fake gamer girl equivalent to _, you fuckin’ snob?"

"I've learned all the racial slurs in existence, and I will recite them now."

"Uh, did you try shooting it?"

"WOAH, HEY NOW, flag on the plane! You can't just say that!"

"This is literally the worst possible time to be doing any of this."

"Wow, by some miracle of probability, your complete and utterly hairbrained scheme managed to garner one modicum of success and with this juncture I could not possibly see how this could go wrong."

"You thought you've got me, but jokes on you I have narcolepsy."

"Ah, well, alright. I don't really understand the implications of that but much better than the proposed outcome."

"If there's anything I've learned, it's that if it abides by the laws of physics, it simply cannot exist in this twisted, fucked up world."

"So, uh, yeah, I'm going to go home and asphyxiate on every stray cat I see on the way there."

"I don’t feel bad, I've just had enough, man. I have needs for pizza."

[exquisitley-obsessed]

The Three Women Of Durin - Stream Talks (20)

MASTERLIST FOR THS STORY

(not my gif)

They spent their second night at Beorn’s house, planning to leave in two days for Mirkwood, that would give them time to plan and prepare for everything which followed.

The girls woke the following morn and spent most of it sparring with their partners before they finished and chose to cool off near the stream which Rosie and Frankie had found the previous day.

“Kili is going fucking James Bond on my ass,” Frankie huffed as she joined Cece and Rosie chucking her bow on the grass next to her.

“But you like it don’t you,” Cece smirked with a wink.

“Oh, trust me honey, out of the three of us I am not the one who’s getting on a first name basis with a dwarf prince, if you know what I mean,” Frankie smirked at her friend, stretching out like a cat on the warm grass. Cece snapped her head to Rosie thinking that’s who Frankie was talking about.

“Don't look at me!” Rosie cried as she slapped Cece lightly up the head, Cece sported a confused expression.

“Well then who…?” Cece trailed off before glancing at the looks her two friends were sending her. “Me? What have I done?” Cece cried, defending herself, the others simply smirked.

“Nothing…” Frankie trailed of smirking,” Cuddles.” Rosie snorted with glee when she heard this.

“What?” Cece asked, desperate for answers.

“Nothing! Snuggles,” Rosie added, grinning.

“WHAT!” Cece suddenly cried standing up and turning to her friends who simply laughed at her frustration.

“Come here dearest friend,” Frankie smirked as she pulled out her phone to show her a photo. Cece leaned down and squinted her eyes coming face to face with what looked like a pile of clothes lying on a dark floor.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Cece questioned, trying to pick out some features.

“Anything, or anyone, look familiar to you?” Rosie smiled smugly. Cece leaned in more until her nose was inches away from the screen.

“Is…Is that me?” She asked seeing a familiar spout of blonde hair.

“Why yes Cece, yes it is,” Frankie drawled out. “And…” She trailed off. Cece looked back into the photo looking for something else but now all she could see was blonde hair and clothes…wait.

“FILI!” Cece cried, gleefully getting the answer, then realization dawned on her. “OH MY GOD!” She cried her two best friends erupting into laughter whilst she stood staring at the photo shocked. “When was this?” Cece asked taking the phone out of Cece’s hands and sitting down next to her so-called friends, her eyes never leaving the photo.

“Last night,” Frankie wiggled her eyebrows.

“It’s adorable,” Rosie added giving Cece a confident smile.

“No,” Cece simply responded with, the laughter soon died from the girls.

“No?” Rosie questioned, confused.

“No. This can’t…” Cece trailed off, stricken.

“Why? Do you not like him?” Frankie asked her friend.

“It’s not that,” Cece sighed.

“Then what is it?” Frankie pushed further.

“You and I both know how this story ends,” Cece suddenly snapped.

“That doesn’t matter,” Rosie said, a serious manner taking over her.

“Why? That’s what’s supposed to happen, do you really think we can stop death?” Cece asked incredulously.

“I think we can damn well try,” Frankie said confidently.

“I will not allow this,” Cece continued.

“Why? Because something bad might happen? Are you scared that one of you may get hurt? Well, you’re already dead sweetie,” Rosie reasoned.

“Don’t say that,”

“Why not? Because it’s true...because we’re never going to go home, because we’re never going to have that life again. This what we have now, this is our world,” Frankie exclaimed.

“And the world is our oyster,” Rosie added.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to fall in love Cece, love is the best thing, and if you have a chance at it, then why the hell not,” Frankie reassured her friend. They were quiet for a while, lost in their own thoughts.

“Fili is the heir of Durin,” Cece suddenly spoke up.

“I mean…to be honest that’s even more of a reason to go for it,” Rosie smiled.

“Nothing has...happened,” Cece reasoned, wincing.

“Then make it,” Frankie smiled warmly. Cece smiled for the first time and lightly shook her head before looking back down at the phone, she stayed like that for a while, simply staring at the photo, then she frowned.

“Hey, Frankie,” she said.

“What?” Frankie asked raising an eyebrow from where she was trying to nap on the soft grass.

“Why is your phone still on 97%?” She asked. And no wonder. Frankie and Rosie had used their phones nonstop, playing music and games, taking photos and videos. To be honest their phones should have died weeks ago.

“No way…” Frankie trailed off, snatching the phone out of Cece’s hands.

“Wait, I’ll get mine,” Rosie said, jumping up and heading indoors to retrieve her phone. Rosie came back and showed her already on phone to her friends. “Look, 100%, it hasn’t even gone down one,” Rosie declared.

“Why aren’t our phone batteries going down?” The girls thought for a moment each trying to come up with an answer or even a theory as to why then Cece turned to Frankie.

“Your hair hasn’t grown,” Cece gasped pointing at Frankie’s hair, her eyes wide. See the thing about Frankie’s hair is that it grows awfully quickly, and to keep it the length that Frankie likes it you have to get it cut every few months, well it had been a few months since they came here, and Frankie’s hair hadn’t grown an inch.

“I still have my paper cut,” Rosie said looking down at her fourth finger on her right hand where (in their old world) she had cut it on a study book.

“It’s like we’ve been preserved in time…” Cece pondered and the girls spoke no more words, haunted by what they had just discovered.

It was the evening of that day, the girls had kept to themselves again, talking about Thranduil and what was best to do but that only lasted for an hour. Cece had made her way back to the stream, finding the gush of water soothing to her throbbing head. She sighed happily as a warm breeze blew her hair out of her face, content.

“Hello,” She heard a voice from behind her, she snapped open her eyes and saw Fili’s figure emerge from the darkness and sit next to her.

“Hi,” She smiled back, the image of the two curled together popping up in her mind as she tried very hard to push it back down.

“We haven’t seen much of you today and were wondering if you were okay?” Fili questioned as he half twisted his body to face her, Cece pulled her lips upwards and tried her best to fake smile. She wasn’t sure Fili believed her but he must have understood that she didn’t want to be questioned about it. They sat in silence for a while, neither of them finding the right thing to say.

“Tell me about your world,” Fili suddenly popped up, “I mean if that’s okay of course,” He spurted, realizing how it could be a touchy subject, Cece found this adorably cute.

“It’s fine,” She smiled warmly, a true smile, “But I already told you most of I think,” She trailed off.

“No, tell me about your life,” He said again, his eyes alive with interest, Cece paused for a moment and felt herself smile again. It was a small thing he asked of Cece, but it seemed to be a warm blanket on her heart.

“Well I just finished school and I was looking to go to a good university, I was actually wanting to go over to the UK and try and get into one of the main schools there,” Cece said before realizing Fili probably didn’t know what that meant, “I’m from America so…you know what? One day I’m going to draw you a map of our world and this will probably make a lot more sense,” She smiled.

“I was still living with my parents and I had a younger sister, she’s called Juliet and she’s 13. I wanted to become a teacher, I wanted to teach people…anything, really. English, maths, science, history, the list goes on...I wanted that so badly, that’s all I wanted since I can remember, and now that opportunity is just gone? I mean, I probably shouldn’t be that sad about it, but it’s just…I had it all planned out, you know? Everything. And now…”

“And now you’ve been thrown into a completely new world,” Fili finished off.

“Exactly,” Cece apologetically smiled, Fili was quiet for a while.

“Want to know something?” He said at last.

“Yes please,” Cece turned fully to him, interested in what he would say.

“My whole life, I’ve been told I was going to be king. Nothing else. I grew up with my mother telling me how proud I was going to make my family and with people who I didn’t even know, come up to me on the street and wish me good luck with my future endeavours. That's been my whole life. When I was young, and I mean young…I wanted to be everything but a king, a blacksmith, a warrior, even a shoemaker, but a king? Never even crossed my mind.

“And soon Kili came along, I stopped dreaming of what I wanted to be when I was older and started to be a big brother right then. Kili was and is my baby brother and if anything were to happen to him I burn the four corners of this map. Because his death would not only destroy me, it would destroy my mother, and you must understand that strong willed she may be, the man who she loved with all her heart…my father, died long ago... and she hasn't been the same since.

“Being king has just simply been something I’ve grown up with, like being a teacher with you. Except, you chose your future, you dreamed it, I was given it whether I like it or not…”

“And do you? Like it?” Cece asked after a moment.

“It would be an honour to be king of Durin’s folk. But you can’t help but wonder, what if this blood didn’t run through my veins?” Fili said as he appeared lost in his own thoughts. Cece was touched by his words and felt honoured herself that Fili had chosen to open up to her on this very personal matter.

“You would still be the strong hearted dwarf you are today,” Cece said warmly, smiling at Fili who returned a smile.

“I’m not just heir to the throne. I’m an older brother, a son, a nephew. And blood is thicker than water,” Fili smiled again. Cece looked at Fili, really looked at him. And no longer saw the dwarf prince who was used in the movies for his death, no longer saw the less important of the two, no longer saw the heir to the throne or even the older brother of Kili.

No, she saw a someone who had just opened up to a girl he had met merely months ago, a girl who was not born or bred on these lands but was thrown here in the middle of a mess and yet was still standing strong. She saw someone who was ready, so ready, to make his family and his people proud, but also a man who feared that he would not be worthy enough for he wanted to be the best king they could ever have. Someone who was kind to her from the start, who protected her not because she was a girl, but because she was his friend, his fighting partner, his student and his teacher. Someone who last night had wrapped their arms around her and held her close.

And something in her heart sparked into life.

[imaginebeatles]

Poetry Nights | Chapter 4: In which Paul is not on a date

Pairing: John/Paul

Rating: PG-13 

Set in: Modern AU

Summary: 21-year-old Paul McCartney, who has recovered from a breakdown due to stress and his mother’s unexpected death, has recently moved to London where he now rents a cheap flat with his friend George. Having needed to give up his medicine studies, he has decided to start over and go to art college instead where he meets the rude and troublesome John Lennon, a young poet, who, much to Paul’s dismay, also happens to be his neighbour.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles and this is fictional. I do not make money off this.

Author’s note: Yeah, extremely long chapter! Enjoy ;) Also, the song Paul and John listen to in the park is Dearest by Buddy Holly, in case you were curious. 

For the following week, Paul made sure to stay away from John as much as possible. He constantly kept an eye out for him, not wanting to run into him in the hallways on his way to class or in more public spaces such as the university cafeteria or the library, even though he doubted he’d be running into him there a second time. John didn’t seem like the type who would willingly spend his time there, unless he had an ulterior motive.

Even when leaving his flat, he made sure to check first to see if John wasn’t in the hallway before stepping outside, and when he got back, he’d glance around the corner as he walked up the stairs before heading to his flat. George, having caught him doing this twice, thought he was being ridiculous, but Paul didn’t care. He’d rather flunk one of his courses if that meant he would never run into John ever again after what had happened, and would gladly go through the rest of his life without ever seeing him again, no matter what it took.

So what if George thought he was acting silly? He hadn’t been the one who had drunkenly kissed the most handsome man he had seen in years before throwing up on him twice and needing to be carried home by him because he had passed out. Not to mention that John had most likely been the one who had stripped him of his clothes before laying him down on the bed and pulling the covers up over him. The thought alone was enough to make him want to go back in time and stop himself from ever going to that damn poetry evening.

Besides, it wasn’t like his strategy wasn’t working. There had been a few times when he had caught glimpses of the other man, either walking down the street or after a lecture in the hallway with a group of friends, and every time he had managed to avoid him. Once he had even forgotten to look before leaving his flat, and Paul could still vividly remember the moment and the fear he had felt when he had thought John had seen him.

He had been about to take out the trash - it being his turn this week - and, having been too deep in thought about Dot to realise what he had been doing, had opened the front door without looking first like he normally did. Taking a single step outside, he had caught sight of John from the corner of his eye, standing by his door and talking to a friend who Paul didn’t recognise. Paul had nearly dropped the trash at the sight of him.

He had been as handsome as Paul had remembered him, if not more. He had once again been bare-footed, and had worn a simple pair of tight-fitting blue jeans that made his thighs look great and a slightly wrinkled white shirt. His thick-rimmed glasses had been on his nose again as well, and his hair had looked ruffled and unkempt as if he had just stumbled out of bed despite it being 2.30 in the afternoon, which Paul thought was just unfair.

As soon as he had regained control over his body - having momentarily lost it as he had stared at the other man - Paul had swiftly slipped back inside and thrown the door shut again with the softest thud possible, before he had slid down unto the floor, hoping John hadn’t spotted him. His heart had been thumping in his chest and for a moment he had been certain John had seen or at least heard him and was going to knock on his door at any moment. But nothing happened.

He had sat there, on the floor, back resting against the door, bag of garbage between his spread legs, for about fifteen minutes before he had dared to have another quick glance outside. Taking a deep breath, he had put the garbage bag aside and crawled onto his hands and knees to have a sneaky look outside, pulling the door open just enough for him to look around the corner. To his luck, John hadn’t been there this time and Paul had slacked a sigh of relief as he had scrambled up and hurried past his flat and down the stairs, cursing himself for being so stupid, as well as forcing the sight of John out of his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He had a girlfriend. Not to mention that John was a smug bastard, and he wasn’t going to waste his time on those again. It didn’t matter how handsome he was, or how soft his lips had been, or how witty he was, or how caring and sweet when he had looked after him, or that he listened to Elvis, or wore horrendous and suggestive shirts that Paul was still thinking about- it didn’t bloody matter!

“Of course it bloody matters! You can’t shut up about him!” Jane cried, and Paul let out an exasperated groan as his head came down on the table with a painful thud. Jane smirked and took a sip from her bottle of water as she reached over to give him a couple of encouraging pats on the shoulder. They were in the library again, and had managed to procure themselves a study room to work in, seeing as they were going to be here for a while - George and Ringo were having another video game tournament as a rematch for the last one and Paul did not want to be there while that was going on, fearing he might witness a murder if he was. The privacy of the room allowed them to speak at a normal volume, and although Paul had been glad he had been able to talk about this with someone other than George, he now kinda wished he hadn’t said anything.

“Paulie… is that what you were doing when we came in? You were checking to see if he was around somewhere? Because Christ, Paul, you really are hopeless,” Jane said, and although her voice sounded emphatic, there was an amused glint in her eyes that gave her away. Paul shot her a look.

“I’m not hopeless, it’s called taking precautions,” he said matter-of-factly, but the grin on his friend’s face didn’t go away.

“Why? Because you may not be able to control yourself around him if you see him? Afraid you might kiss him again if he looks at you a certain way? Granted the guy is good-looking, but I had thought your taste in men would be slightly more refined.” Paul rolled his eyes in response and cursed himself for ever having brought the subject up. He should have known better than to share these thing with Jane; she was far too concerned with his love-life.

“I do not have a crush on John and my self-control is as impeccable as always, thank you, Jane. I just don’t want to deal with the embarrassment again. Throwing up on handsome guys wasn’t really part of the plan when I decided to come to London to study art history, you know. Handsome guys in general weren’t part of the plan. And they still aren’t.”

“Paul, dear… You kissed him. You kissed him. Which, combined with the fact that we are still talking about him a week after, makes it safe to say you do have a crush on him, don’t you think?”

“Oh, piss off…” Paul shot back and pouted down at his library book at his failure to come up with a better retort. “How do you know John anyway? He doesn’t seem like the type you’d usually hang out with.”

“Yeah, because we don’t. But Astrid and I are on the swim team together, which means Stuart is at the pool a lot during practise to support his girlfriend, which in turn means John is there because he gets bored and needs Stuart to entertain him.”

“And you don’t like him because…?”

Jane raised an eyebrow at his question and scoffed. “You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

“I meant why specifically,” Paul clarified with a smirk, glad to have moved the focus away from himself and to Jane, who took another sip of water before she started to explain.

“He was a prick to me the first time we met, as he is to everybody,” she said, shrugging. “He asked me how girls masturbated and then went on to make up some inappropriate poem about me being a beautiful water nymph who lures guys in and murders them.”

“You’ve got to admit that sounds pretty badass. And at least he said you were beautiful,” Paul said, chuckling, but Jane shook her head in return.

“Not if you heard what kind of language he used. It was humiliating, Paul. Not to mention he went on to suggest I was a lesbian too, and he gave some very colourful descriptions about that. At least Stuart thought it was funny.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you’d make a great man-murdering, lesbian water nymph,” Paul said with a wink and Jane laughed as she took another sip of water.

“Maybe I already am one,” she said mysteriously, “that’s why I have my water bottle with me. Need to stay hydrated while I’m on land.”

“I hope not. Because if you were, you’d be doing a piss-poor job at killing men, seeing I’m still very much alive and it’s been weeks since you met me.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I wouldn’t kill you. You’re part of my great plan. Every lesbian water nymph needs her hot bisexual male eye-candy besides her to assist her.”

“That’s all I am then, eh?” Paul said with a dramatic sigh, pressing the back of his left hand to his forehead as he pretended to swoon, “Nothing more than a fine piece of ass to be gawked at. Barely more than pretty face. A sexually-ambiguous sex object.”

“As if you’d mind.”

“I can’t say, can I? My body is all that matters now! When you’re hot, no one cares about what comes out of your mouth anymore. It’s a curse! All they care about is what goes into it,” Paul said and winked at Jane, who recoiled in disgust. Nonetheless she was laughing, and for a moment Paul had completely forgotten about John. That is, until Jane had caught her breath again and turned to him with an even wider smirk.

“I’m not sure John would mind either, you know,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes, but Paul waved away her remark.

“There is nothing going on between me and John and there never will be. Besides, I doubt he’s still into me after what happened, which I guess is the only good thing to come out of this.”

“Did you tell Dot what happened?”

Paul shook his head.

“No… And I wasn’t really planning on it either,” he said truthfully. “There’s not even much to say, is there? It was just a stupid drunken mistake. It didn’t mean anything. Telling her will only unnecessarily hurt her.”

“Paul, you did kiss another person…”

“So?”

“So, you ought to tell her!” Jane’s voice was forceful, as if she could not believe what Paul was saying. “It doesn’t matter if it didn’t mean anything or not! She will appreciate your honesty. Besides, you’ve been dating for over three years! You’re in a serious, long-term relationship, Paul. You can’t just keep these things from her. Not anymore.”

Paul was quiet for a while, letting her words sink in. He knew Dot wasn’t going to react positively if he were to tell her about what happened between him and John, and she had every right to. And if she wasn’t, then she would at the very least feel betrayed. They had been dating for over three years! And if that didn’t count for anything, the occurrences of the last two years certainly did. Things like kissing men while high or drunk just wasn’t supposed to happen anymore, especially seeing as Paul had known John had had an interest in him. He had broken her trust, intoxicated or not. But if he told her, he would hurt her, and she didn’t deserve that.

“What if she finds out from someone else, eh? You’ve already told me and George, and if George knows, then you can bet Ringo and Pattie know as well.”

“George swore on his Bob Dylan records he wouldn’t tell anyone. You know how much that man worships Dylan! He isn’t going to let me get anywhere near his records.”

“Yeah, but for George, Ringo doesn’t count. And he and Pattie are dating now, so he will have told her too, especially since she was there the night it happened and Dot kept interrupting them with her phone calls to ask about you. She would want to know what was going on and I’m certain George wouldn’t think twice about telling her. Not to mention that there is one other person who knows about what has happened between you and John, and who will definitely be talking about it with other people.”

Paul glanced up at her questioningly and waited for her to continue, having not a clue who else he could have told, which drew an annoyed groan from Jane.

“I’m talking about John, Paul! You can bet all of his friends have heard the story at least twice now! What if somehow Dot hears it from one of his friends, or friends of his friends? You know John’s from Liverpool too, right? Dot will be pissed if she hears about it from anyone but you.”

“Wait… John’s from Liverpool?”

“Paul!”

“Okay! Fine... I’ll call her this evening,” Paul said, holding up his hands in defeat before he reached for his phone and typed out a quick message to Dot, making sure to hit “send” before showing it to Jane.  She smiled and nodded as her eyes skimmed the text, which essentially asked Dot if she had the evening off so they could talk and that he missed her. Already Paul felt he had made a mistake, but he knew Jane was right. He couldn’t risk it.

“Thanks, Paul,” she said, and he nodded in response, his throat too tight to talk at the prospect of actually having to speak to Dot. At least he had a little while to prepare, though he couldn’t help but hope she had something planned this evening and wouldn’t be able to make it.

Without another word, he went back to work, taking notes as he did his reading for later that week, while occasionally sharing a few words with Jane about unimportant things, as she revised the notes she had taken that day. At least one positive thing about getting kicked out of your own flat - albeit willingly - was the amount of work he could get done for university, being stuck in the library for a large part of his day. In the end it saved him a lot of time.

Or at least… it would have done if he had been able to keep his mind focused.

Instead, he found himself thinking about John again, although he blamed Jane for it this time, seeing as she had been the one to bring up John was from Liverpool as well. Had they ever met before? Or even just seen each other? Had they gone to the same school? John was older than him, so it could be a possibility… Maybe they had sat on the bus together once, neither of them knowing one day one of them would get sick all over the other and would need to be carried home. His life was a mess.

Once their allotted time for the study room was over, Paul and Jane began to gather their stuff and Paul decided he would skim the library a while longer for a particular book he needed for his upcoming essay, seeing as he doubted George and Ringo would have finished their gaming tournament yet, it being barely four o’clock. Jane, however, had other plans for the day, so they walked back downstairs together, talking to each other in hushed whispers as not to be of any nuisance. They had only just reached the second floor and turned a corner when they suddenly heard a familiar voice calling out for them, far louder than either of them were comfortable with in a library.

“Would you look who it is! Our very own good little student Paul, back here again!” the voice called and Paul tensed up as he swiftly looked around himself, judging whether he could still make a run for it for not. The stairs weren’t that far away - seeing as they had just come from there - and with all the running he had been doing in the mornings, he could easily make it, assuming John was as lazy and hateful of any kind of exercise as Paul had him pinned for. Jane, however, had a strong hold on his arm, keeping him from going anywhere and urging him to turn around. “And Miss Asher… it’s always a pleasure to see you again as well.”

Turning around, Paul swallowed thickly as his eyes landed on John, feeling how his chest tightened under the other man’s gaze as he looked him up and down, taking in every part of him. When John’s eyes landed on Jane’s hand which was still holding his arm, he quickly tugged himself free. He didn’t miss the way the corners of John’s mouth twitched at the sight.

“Is it not curious I only ever see you in the library? I’d almost begin to think you lived here,” the older man said, and although Paul now knew there was no cruel intent in his words, he still felt his cheeks heat up.

“Well, some of us need to study. And besides, you know where I live.” He said that last quietly, almost shyly, and mentally kicked himself for letting John get to him so easily. After all, they had had fun last week before he had started to feel sick. He had been able to keep up with him. He could do so again.

“Aye, that I do,” John replied with a wink and moved a little closer to them, taking a step into Paul’s personal space, eyes twinkling as Paul refused to step away. “What are you studying for then, eh?”

“Just working on an essay for art history.”

“Boring,” John replied with a smirk, and Paul rolled his eyes at him. He felt the urge to take a step back, but doing so would feel like John had the upper hand on him, which wasn’t the case, so he remained where he was, unmoving. At least he was half an inch taller than John, which he felt counted for something.

“Actually,” he said, eyes looking directly into John’s, “I find it rather interesting, so I’d better get back to work. Jane has other plans as well, so...”

“Oh well, in that case I won’t keep you, Jane,” John said, shooting Jane a sideways glance which couldn’t be mistaken as meaning anything other than “leave” - although a ruder variant would be more apt - before he turned his focus back onto Paul. Jane was more than happy to comply to that order, clearly uncomfortable baring witness to whatever it was that was going on. Paul hardly knew himself, so he couldn’t  blame her. Still, he hated her for what she did next.

“Yeah… see you around, guys. I’ll er… I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Paul,” she said and before Paul could protest, she had turned on her heels and walked off with quick, long steps. Paul cursed her in his head for leaving him like that, before turning back to John, who, as he now saw, had stepped even closer to him, but had also pulled a very familiar-looking leather-bound notebook from his bag.

“As for you, doctor McCartney…” he said, his voice low and sultry, clearly trying to make Paul feel uncomfortable, “I just wanted to hand this back to you. You must’ve been missing it.” Paul stared at the notebook as he held out it out for him, and recognised it easily as his own. He had been searching for it, thinking he had misplaced it, but now he saw it in John's hand, he felt stupid for not having suspected him sooner. He tried grabbing it, but John was swift to pull it out of his reach, causing Paul to stumble forward slightly as he lost his balance, bringing the two men even closer, so that they were barely a two feet apart and Paul could feel John’s breath on his face.

“Ah-ah! Not so quick, darling,” John said, smirking as Paul made another unsuccessful reach for it.

“Don’t call me ‘darling’. And how did you get my notebook, anyway?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re implying. You just left it at the cafe last week. Thought it’d be proper of me to hand it back to you is all.”

“Good. You can give it back now then,” Paul said, making another grab at the notebook, but John swiftly moved it behind his back and out of Paul’s reach.

“Patience, doll eyes,” he playfully scolded and Paul huffed in annoyance but kept silent, knowing John would just continue being a pain if he didn’t do what he said. Still, that didn’t stop him from hissing “asshole” under his breath, which, judging by the smirk on John’s lips, the other man had heard. Good, Paul thought.

“You know, there is no reason to be embarrassed. People do all sorts stupid things when they’re high and drunk. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“For some reason I’m not surprised…” Paul muttered in reply, causing John to let out a little laugh. “And I’m not embarrassed. I just want my notebook back and get back to work.”

“Are you free now?” John asked, and Paul stared at him wide eyed.

“I-I just… I just told you-” Paul stammered but John easily silenced him.

“Look here, gorgeous,” he said, cocking his head at him in a manner Paul knew to be seductive, as he raised his free hand to motion him to be quiet, “I know there’s no way that essay is due any time soon, and truthfully I’m rather hungry and in a dire need for a good cup of coffee, so all I’m asking is whether you want to come with me or not.”

“Why would you possibly think I’d say ‘yes’? I don’t even like you!”

“Last time you told me that you ended up kissing me, so I’m taking my chances here. What do you say?” Paul felt his cheeks heat up again as the memory of John’s lips pressing against his own filled his mind, and by the way John was grinning at him, he assumed his blushing was very apparent. Still, Paul pulled himself together and narrowed his eyes at the other man as he folded his arms before his chest.

“I’m guessing you’re not going to give me my notebook back unless I say yes, are you?” he said. Much to his genuine surprise, however, John merely laughed  and offered him his notebook back right away.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not going to blackmail you into having coffee with me. I just knew if I had given you this right away, you’d have ran away before I had the chance to ask.”

“I- I wouldn’t have ran away…” Paul said, flustered as he took his notebook from the other man and slipped it into his bag, pretending not to see the knowing look John gave him in response.

“So… what to do you say?” the man asked again and Paul looked him up and down for a moment, before he gave in with a sigh.

“Fine… but only because I could really go for some coffee right now. And this not a date, if that’s what you’re thinking!”

“Whatever you say, darling,” John said, and with that, he took Paul by his arm and started dragging him with him towards the exit.

          The cafe John took him to was remarkably nice. Paul had suspected they would go somewhere simple, like a Costa or a Caffè Nero or even the university cafe, and had raised an eyebrow in surprise as they passed a number of them on their way. Instead, they had walked for about ten minutes before John had finally directed him into a small, but cosy cafe, to which Paul had been once before a few years ago. He had been visiting London for a holiday with his father and brother, and they had stumbled upon it by accident. Paul was more than happy to find himself back here again.

He welcomed the smell of freshly ground coffee as John opened the door for him and let him in first. Adele’s Crazy For You was playing, and like the time before, it was quiet, there being only a few people of around, most likely other students, sitting at small round wooden tables with their laptops or phones, either alone or with another person with whom they would occasionally converse. The place was bright, with large windows at the front, white tiled walls, and light wooden flooring with geometric patterned rugs for a more cosy atmosphere. The bar was large and square and took a prominent spot in the room, but if anything it made it more personal. He and John took a seat at a table by the window and they offered each other a small smile as they sat opposite each other. Paul took off his coat and hung it over the back of his chair, while John simply put his with his bag on the floor between the window and table.

“Any idea what you’d like, yet?” John asked as he had a quick glance over the menu that was placed on every table, twirling it around a few times in his hands, before handing it to Paul. It was obvious he already knew what it said, and Paul wondered if he came here often.

“Hmm… I might just get a simple black coffee. Although… if I remember well they have the best chocolate cake here. But I probably shouldn’t,” Paul said, frowning, as he took the menu from John and had a quick look at it his well, his eyes lingering on the cakes and pies section.

“What do you mean, you probably shouldn’t?” John asked, pulling the menu down so he could look Paul in the eye.

“Well,” Paul said, nervously shrugging his shoulders, “it’s not exactly good for you, is it?”

“So? It’s just one slice. You’re skinny enough, if that’s what you’re worried about,” John said, his tone firmer than what might have been expected in a situation like this. “And even if you weren’t, fuck the others, right?”

Paul smiled at the flattering words, but remained unsure, remembering how hard it had been to lose weight when he had been younger. He hadn’t liked the nicknames people had used for him, calling him chubby or baby or fatty, be it in jest or with the actual intention to hurt. He hadn’t liked the teasing, or the general unhappiness he had felt about his body, making him oddly aware of it all the time - he hadn’t liked any of it, and when he had decided to lose weight, he had struggled with it for a long time. It hadn’t been easy, and when his mum died… Well, it hadn’t helped.

The last thing he wanted was to return to that, to be fat again. But unfortunately he had always had a sweet tooth, and once he started eating, it was difficult for him to stop. It was easier to just never indulge himself. He allowed himself one bar of chocolate a week, which he mostly had on the weekends, because he simply could not survive without it, and Jane already got him plenty of cookies when they would meet up after class, and if it hadn’t been for his strict running schedule he would never have allowed for any of that. If he started having cake now with John as well… He wouldn’t stop at simply having that single slice of chocolate cake. He would be coming back again, telling himself it would be fine, and then it’d get worse and worse until he’d sit by George’s cupboard full of sweets and treats and other good stuff in the middle of the night, stuffing himself in secrecy.

He knew it probably wasn’t healthy to be this concerned with his eating habits, especially since one slice of chocolate cake wasn’t going to ruin his life, and he knew that, but Paul really wanted to stay in the shape he was in. It wasn’t that he wanted to lose weight or anything, or that he thought he was fat now - in fact he had never felt better about himself in that regard - but… he didn’t want to hear people call him “fatty” again, or look into the mirror and call himself that.

He shook his head.

“No, I shouldn’t… I’ll just have a cup of coffee and that’s it,” he said, but John wouldn’t have any of it and promptly took the menu away from him.

“Don’t be silly! You want chocolate cake, you’ll get that chocolate cake!” he said, looking at the menu himself to make sure the chocolate cake was still on there, and grabbed his wallet from his bag. Before Paul could object, he had got up and had hurried to the bar to order, not giving him a chance.

“John! No, I don’t-” Paul tried, but it was in vain. John had already gone. Groaning, he let his head fall onto the table, regretting his decision to accept the other man’s offer for coffee, knowing he should have expected things to not go according to plan when he was with him. Things never seemed to when John was around. What had gotten into him, saying yes?

He opened one of his eyes to glance at the counter to see John talking to a young female barista and watched in horror as the girl got him a slice of that deliciously sinful chocolate cake, home-made from organic and fair-trade ingredients, which made it only better in Paul’s opinion. His mouth watered at the mere sight of it, memories of the taste coming back to him, the way the chocolate had melted on his tongue and the taste had lingered in his mouth for hours after. Shaking his head in a poor attempt to rid himself of these thoughts, he hurriedly looked away and got out his phone, hoping it would take his mind of that chocolate cake, or rather that it would somehow magically disappear.

Unlocking his phone, he noticed Dot had send him a message back, telling him she was going out with a couple of friends that evening but could talk beforehand that if that was okay. Paul, knowing he did not have a good excuse to back out now, texted her back, saying it was fine before asking her what time would suit her best. Within ten seconds he got a reply back suggesting seven o’clock, to which Paul half-heartedly agreed, his heart thumping in his throat. As he looked back up and out of the window, silently freaking out about his coming talk with his girlfriend, he noticed the music had changed to Sam Cooke’s Bring It On Home To Me - the music the coffee shop played was even better than how Paul remembered it being, and he softly hummed along, feeling how the music calmed him, if only a little.

“Here you go, Princess,” Paul suddenly heard John say, and he turned his head to see John put down a large plate of chocolate cake in front of him along with both their coffees. He frowned when he saw John was holding two forks, but had no other piece of cake or pie or any other food with him. “I thought,” the man continued as he took his seat again, noticing Paul’s look of confusion, “we could share it, instead. That way you can feel a little better about not upholding your usual diet.”

Paul smiled at that, and chuckled as he gave in, just the sight of it and John’s strange way of compromising rendering him unable to refuse. It did look delicious, and when John smiled in that charming way of his as he handed Paul one of the forks, he knew he was going to regret it. His self-control only went so far.

“Fine,” he said, “but this isn’t a date thing.”

John grinned at him and rolled his eyes as Paul dug in and took his first bite of the chocolate cake, which just seemed to melt on his tongue. He didn’t even need to close his mouth and he moaned in pleasure as the bitter, yet sweet taste of chocolate invaded all corners of his mouth and began to drizzle down his throat - it really was the best cake he had ever had in his life. Opening his eyes - he hadn’t realised he had closed them - he saw John watching him, a smile on his lips that could not be interpreted as anything other than love-sick, and Paul smiled apologetically at him as he looked away, embarrassed. He frowned as his gaze landed on John’s drink.

“Huh,” he said, gesturing at it, “I didn’t pin you for a latte kind of guy.”

“There are multiple layers to all of us, Paul. Besides I like the little art they do with the milk,” John explained as he turned his cup around so Paul could see the little cat face the barista had managed to create, and for a moment Paul was taken aback by his answer, which was so unlike the rest of his rough exterior. It was really… kind of cute? He was only taken away from his thoughts as he phone began to buzz again.

“That your girlfriend?” John asked, and Paul nodded as he checked it swiftly.

“Something like that,” he said and texted Dot back with a kissing emoji, before turning it over so it was lying face-down on the table, hoping it wouldn’t disturb them again for at least a little while.

“Something like that?” John asked with a curious chuckle.

“It’s not important,” Paul said, sighing, and picked up his cup of coffee to take a careful sip, blowing into it first to cool it a little, not wanting to burn his tongue. John, however only sat up in interest at those words and leant forward on his elbows, as if afraid he were to miss anything if he didn’t.

“You sure? Come on, Paulie. Satisfy a guy’s burning curiosity,” he said with a wink, and Paul glanced at him doubtfully, but gave in anyway and put his (still too hot) coffee back down. He stared into it as he answered, preferring not to look at the other man.

“She erm… We were engaged, actually. Or for a while we were, anyway. But then… well, we had our issues and now we are here and I’m not sure either of us knows where that ‘here’ is right now. ‘Girlfriend’ just seems the most fitting label right now, though I don’t know what Dot calls me, her fiance or boyfriend. We never really talked about it.”

“Wow, engaged, eh?” John said and whistled lowly, “what did you do, Paul? You didn’t knock her up, did you? You know they have invented stuff for that now, right?” Paul started at that, but didn’t say anything and merely had another bite of his chocolate cake, preferring that to talking about him and Dot. Especially with John. While they were sitting in a cafe. He knew John didn’t mean bad, but it was exhausting thinking about her, about what had happened, to both of them at that. Thankfully, John didn’t press it and followed Paul’s example as he too took a bite out of the chocolate cake.

“So,” he continued after a moment of silence, catching Paul’s eyes again, “you studied medicine. What was that like?”

Hell, was the first word that came to mind, but he swallowed it down in favour of a shrug.

“As if you really care,” he said, taking a sip from his coffee, which was now finally the right temperature. He hummed contently as the warm liquid rushed from his mouth to his throat to his stomach, mixing with the chocolate and warming him throughout from the inside out. God, he had needed that.

John was looking at him again, enjoying the noises he was making, but unlike last time, Paul didn’t look away from him as their eyes met and bit his tongue to tell himself to not be this loud, which appeared harder than one might expect. John licked some cake crumbles from his lips before he spoke.

“Contrary to what some might think,” he said, smiling, “I like learning more about the people I kiss, and even if I didn’t, I still enjoy hearing them talk. You especially.” John shot him a flirtatious wink, and Paul lightly choked on his coffee at his forwardness, making him almost feel betrayed by one of the few good things he had in his life as it burned in his throat. He suppressed the tug at his lips at John’s remark and looked down at his mug as he placed in the saucer in front of him, wiping his mouth.

“Is that because you just like my voice or because you think I’m actually saying something interesting?” he asked and John smirked at him.

“Both,” he said without so much as a thought, and Paul chuckled despite himself, his chest feeling strange at John’s words, strange in a way he knew he shouldn’t feel, but he allowed himself to be indulged for a moment and enjoyed the flattery.

“In case you had forgotten, this is not a date, so you can stop flirting with me. It’s not gonna get you anywhere this time. And… well, there’s not much to say. It had good and bad moments. And if I had liked it, I wouldn’t be here right now, so… Make your own deductions,” he said, swallowing thickly and felt relieved when John didn’t go into it.

“Oh, but I think you rather like my flirting, even if you won’t admit it,” he said instead, and when Paul didn’t respond, he added, “you studied in Liverpool, you said?”

Paul nodded. “I’ve lived there all my life, and once I finished secondary school, it just made sense for me to stay, though I got me a student flat to live in. Jane told me you’re from there as well.”

“You two been talking about me?” John asked, smug grin on his lips, and Paul rolled his eyes at that. Putting on a thick scouse accent that would have been more fitting in the 60s than now, John said, “I’m a Liverpudlian through and through, darling. Think you can handle a tough old scouser like me?”

“I think I’ll do fine, thanks, John,” Paul replied in similar fashion, though his accent wasn’t as over-done, sounding instead more modern and genuine as opposed to John’s dramatic take on it.

“You don’t sound that scouse normally,” John remarked, and Paul laughed as he shrugged.

“Mum taught us to speak proper, you know. She hoped it would open up more chances for me and Mike. She always got upset about me g’s and would go on about me vowels being lazy. Dad never really cared, though. How ‘bout you?” Paul asked, keeping his pronunciation scouse, which seemed to amuse John.

“Learned it from the sailors down the docks. I grew up with me aunt,  in the proper middle class way, so I would use it to piss her off when I was angry. I can do it pretty well, but it’s not natural like yours, I guess.” Paul nodded at that, wondering why John had grown up with his aunt, rather than his parents, but he didn’t dare ask, knowing how annoying it could be when you constantly needed to explain why your mother wasn’t at your first solo performance in the church choir, or why she wasn’t there for your graduation or why you were sad and depressed on mother’s day and didn’t stress about getting your mother a present like all the other kids. It was horrible to constantly be reminded of it, to constantly have to explain and to have to deal with the condolences and words and looks of pity afterwards. Paul was certain it hadn’t helped with his mental health to have to deal with that constantly all the time, and although he knew Dr Collins said it wasn’t good for him to keep those things hidden and to bottle all that pain up, he mostly found himself jumping around the subject, preferring not to talk about it, and he didn’t doubt John felt the same way. That is, assuming he had gone through something similar, which of course didn’t need to be the case, but just to be certain, he didn’t ask about it.

“I think you can do the accent better than I can,” he said instead.

“Well, yeah, but I’m not proper scouse now, am I? Not like you lot.”

“Think you can handle a tough old scouser like me, then, eh?” Paul repeated, joking, and he knew he had made a mistake when John’s eyes glazed over dark and the corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk.

“If you’re offering,” he said, and Paul casually flipped him the finger as he drank from his coffee again, though he could not deny the strange churn in his stomach.

They spoke for a while, their conversation getting easier and easier, and it was almost as if their minds had synced up by the end of it. They barely even finished their sentences anymore and would often come up with the same joke, which they would tell at the same time, after which they giggled into their cups like school boys talking about naughty stuff they had seen on the internet or on those magazines you could buy at gas stations. The atmosphere was relaxed and although John remained overtly flirtatious, it wasn’t anything Paul couldn’t handle, and by the end he had even grown to like it, that is, as long as John knew this wasn’t a date, of which Paul reminded him plenty.

The chocolate cake was easily shared between them, and when Paul had finished his coffee, John readily got him another one, for which Paul was grateful. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, talking about Liverpool, university, friends, family, poetry and music, but the more Paul spoke with John the more likeable he became.

John, Paul learned, had gone to art school right next to where Paul had attended grammar school, and had lived only a short walk away from him, meaning they would have needed to take the same bus for the last leg of the way and that they had possibly seen each other before but just never got to meet. It was strange they would meet here now, so far away from Liverpool where they had lived their lives so near to each other.

“Do you think you’ve seen me before?” Paul asked, unsure which answer he would prefer, and John thought for a while before shaking his head.

“I would have remembered you, I think. You’re far too pretty to forget about,” he said and Paul slapped him on the arm in response as he told him off. John, however, reacted fast as caught Paul’s hand in his own for a brief moment, causing Paul to freeze as he stared at him, his fingers trembling where they touched John’s skin, which was surprisingly soft except for the callouses on his fingertips. When John pulled his hand away again, he sighed, though not necessarily from relief.

“Sorry,” John said, his voice soft and Paul blinked up at him in surprise, not having expected those words to drop from the man’s lips. Before he could say something in return, however, a bell sounded behind Paul, signalling the arrival of another customer, and immediately John pulled even further away from him. He called out to the man and Paul realised he could hear sound again that wasn’t John’s nasal yet attractive voice. It all came back to him suddenly and all at once: the music - it had changed to You’ve Really Got a Hold On Me by Smokey Robinson and The Miracles - the chatter of other people, and the sound of the coffee machine as more coffee beans were ground.

“Stu! What are you doing here, mate?” John called out as he looked up at the newly arrived customer. Turning his head, Paul saw the familiar small-bodied man standing by the door, sunglasses on his nose and a smile on his face as he looked from John to Paul and back again.

“Just grabbing a cup of coffee before heading out to my last lecture. How about you? On a date, I see?” he asked, smirking, and Paul flushed red.

“We are not on a date.”

“Right…”

“We’re not!”

“Which is why you are having coffee with the guy you made out with a week ago,” Stuart said with a grin and Paul groaned, resting his head in his hand as he suddenly remembered exactly why this had been a bad idea in the first place. Of course, John had told his friends all about it too. He hated it when Jane was right.

“Come on, Stu. Let the poor boy be,” John said, giggling and Paul mouthed a thank you back at him, causing John to smile at him warmly, as he reached out and gently touched Paul’s hand with his fingertips in a soothing manner, and Paul actually felt himself relax.

“Yeah… You two are totally on a date,” Stuart remarked at that and before either of the two men could object, he said, “Anyway, I shouldn’t stick around. Mr Cornell will have my head if I am late. God knows why. It’s not like he says anything interesting during his lectures.”

“It’s not on a date!” Paul muttered again, but now both men ignored him.

“Shit, Stu… You may want to hurry up then. It’s already past 5.30 and Mr Cornell is the absolute worst. I do not envy you at all. I don’t know what possessed you to take that course.”

“Tell me about it,” Stuart said and shot one more glance at Paul, who had shrunken into his chair like a little ball of embarrassment, silently hoping the other man would leave soon. “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your date. I have to go. John, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah! See ya tomorrow, Stu,” John said and Paul muttered a soft, grumbling goodbye himself as Stuart began to make his way to the counter to get his coffee. Once he was out of earshot, John turned back to Paul, who was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, pouting, and John chuckled at the sight of him. .

“We are not dating!” he hissed and John rolled his eyes.

“You know he is just teasing you, right?”

“I know…”

John studied him for a moment before he picked up Paul’s coffee cup to see he hadn’t finished it yet, and handed it to him as he told him to finish it.

“Let’s go for a walk together. I can bring you home.”

“If you want me gone, you can just say so. You don’t have to chaperone me. I’ll be fine this time, seeing as I neither drank nor smoked any pot,” Paul said as he did what John had asked and took a sip from his coffee. John smiled at his joke, but shook his head nonetheless.

“Don’t be silly. It’s a nice day out. And besides, I need to get home too. Now finish that coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it,” Paul said, laughing and hastily complied, swallowing the rest down in one go as he reached into his bag for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked once he had finished his coffee and put his cup back down. John, however, refused to let him pay. “You know, you don’t have to keep paying for me all the time. I can pay for myself no problem.”

“I know. See it as a gentlemanly gesture. Besides, I forced you to share that chocolate cake with me. It would be unfair to have you pay for it. And you can also see it as my way of making it up to you for that,” John said and Paul could not help but feel flattered, so he accepted.

“Fine, but I pay next time,” he said, causing John to grin at him.

“So, there’s going to be a next time?” he asked, as smug as ever, and Paul shot him another stern look as he got up and pulled on his coat again, not saying another word about it.

          Back at home, the gaming tournament appeared to be over and the living room was in surprisingly good condition. A handwritten note lay on the coffee table, scribbled in the same style as the one he had found on his bedroom door a week ago,  explaining that George and Ringo had gone out to get some fish and chips for dinner to celebrate George’s victory (which probably meant Ringo had won) and that they’d be at the usual place in their usual spot if he may wish to join them, which was a mere five minutes away. Paul, however, was glad to have the flat to himself for once. It was already a quarter past six, which meant he was going to have to call Dot soon, something which he really was not looking forward to. He hoped George and Ringo would be out till then at least, preferring not to have anyone around to hear the inevitable fight.  

The walk back home with John had been quiet, neither of them having spoken much as John had urged them to take a small detour so they could walk quietly through the park where Paul would run every morning. It had been quiet there as well, and they had spoken in hushed voices about their favourite artists and songs as they walked, finding they had a very similar taste in music, while they took in the chilly autumn air as they still enjoyed the warmth the sun provided. Once they had gotten home, Paul had mumbled a quick goodbye and  had thanked John once more for the coffee and his notebook before he had hurried into the flat.

It hadn’t been anything special, but still Paul found himself smiling as he remembered the way John had offered him his earphones to let him listen to a song he had recently discovered and was crazy about. Paul couldn’t remember the song now, though he knew he had liked it. He guessed it had been a Buddy Holly song, but he couldn’t be sure. Still, it had been nice to be able to talk to someone who had the same taste in music as him.

Throwing his things into his bedroom, Paul headed to the kitchen to heat up some canned soup for dinner and make some toast as he poured himself a large glass of water, feeling thirsty after all that coffee, and drank it all in one go while he waited for the soup to warm up. Once it was ready, he poured it into a bowl and got himself another glass of water, before he carried everything with him into his bedroom, sitting down at his desk by his laptop to eat. He put on a record - Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys, his favourite - and softly starting singing along to the music as he ate his dinner and checked his university email, scrolled through Instagram for a bit and checked his favourite twitter profiles. There didn’t seem to be much going on today that interested Paul, so, out of sheer boredom, he decided to google John instead for no reason at all.

He found his Facebook account immediately, but it was mostly empty, the last thing that had been posted being birthday greetings from… almost a year ago! October 9th. Glancing at the Elvis Presley wall calendar that hung on the wall above his desk, Paul noticed it was only two weeks away. John’s profile picture was nice though. It looked like it was an old one, perhaps taken about a year ago, maybe longer, and it was John, dressed up in 50s rocker style clothes, sunglasses on his nose, his hair slick and styled into a quiff, as he stood leaning against an old vintage car. He looked good and Paul felt to urge to press like, but decided not to, thinking that would be weird.

There was however a post a little further down of John’s telling people to check out his twitter, so that was what Paul did next, hoping to find more there. His jaw dropped and his spoon nearly fell from his fingers onto the floor as he saw the incredible amount of tweets on John’s twitter account, and to his horror saw a mention of himself a few tweets down where John warned people about kissing guys who had just thrown up on you, ‘cause they tasted disgusting, no matter how sweet they looked. Thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned any names, and Paul felt relieved, if not slightly surprised, not having thought John would care about that. The man however, appeared less and less horrible with every new thing he learned about him.

The rest of his twitter account was filled with rants about various topics, such as politics, social issues, news articles, celebrity gossip, books, music, television series and movies, most of which were long and at least eight tweets long - making Paul doubt just how much John meant the tweet about tweets were meant to be short for a reason and how annoying it was when people would use multiple to express one idea and write an entire essay, though he supposed it could have been meant ironically too. There were also tweets about more mundane things about his daily life, such as losing your keys, or people taking too long to make a choice when ordering food, or about the intense irritation of dropping your guitar pick between the strings and having it fall into your guitar, about which John had managed to rant for 28 tweets… At least it explained the callouses he had felt on John’s finger tips.

There were also a few pictures posted, some of which linked to what John claimed to be an horrendously inactive Instagram account, and Paul smiled as he saw a picture of a gorgeous, expensive Rickenbacker guitar with the caption “my true love” under it, remembering his own similar tweets.

He looked through John’s twitter for a while, reading various rants of his and being surprised at how well-thought out some of them were, whereas others seemed to have been typed drunk. Or high. Considering what Paul knew of the other man, he figured they probably were.

As the number of his digital clock came closer to 19.00, however, he found it becoming harder and harder to focus on the man’s tweets, and when it was four minutes to seven, he decided to just go for it and get it over with. It was best to keep it short, anyway, seeing as Jane would probably be waiting by the phone to hear about how it went.

Taking a deep breath, he dialled his girlfriend’s number and sat fumbling with the hem of his shirt as he waited for the tender sound of her voice. He only needed to wait a few seconds before someone answered, but instead of the sweet voice he was used to hearing, he was met with huffing and puffing and light curses as Paul could hear what sounded like stumbling and various things clattering onto the floor on the other end of the line.

“Dot?” he asked, and for a second all he got was a huff in return, after which more stumbling followed and finally she let out a curse loud enough for him to hear properly.

“Shit, sorry… Ow! Yeah… yeah, I’m here.”

“What is going on there?” Paul asked, laughing, and Dot huffed again, before she finally sat down on what was presumably her bed with a sigh and the noises stopped.

“Just… just getting dressed. I er… I tripped over the leg of my tights. I’m a little late, so it’s a bit chaotic here right now.”

“You want me to call back later? Cause that wouldn’t be an issue-”

“No! No, that’s fine. I still got plenty of time. The girls won’t get here for another forty minutes or so. It’s just… a mess, basically,” Dot said, chuckling and she led out a sigh as Paul heard her fall back on her bed. He pulled his legs up and hugged them close to his chest, picturing what she would look like now and smiling at the pretty sight she would make, a lock of short blond hair falling before her eyes like it always used to do, and which Paul always used to push away and behind her ear.

“What are you doing then? This evening?” he asked, reaching down between his legs to play with his toes.

“Oh, it’s Sandra’s birthday today, so we all decided to have a girl’s night out to celebrate. We’re going out for drinks first and then we’re going dancing. No boys allowed.”

“Can’t say I’m not relieved to hear that. Anything special you’re going to wear?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Dot remarked with a giggle and Paul smiled.

“You know I like my girl to look pretty,” he said and Dot hummed.

“Any special requests? I was planning on just wearing an army green skirt with an off the shoulder top… perhaps with that special set of underwear you gave me. If you’d like.”

Paul swallowed thickly as he remembered that particular present and could only hum in response as a tiny smirk pulled at his lips. She had looked wonderful in that, and the first time he had seen her in it, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her for the entirety of the evening and long into the night. They had only fallen asleep from exhaustion at about four in the morning and hadn’t left the bed until late afternoon. Paul missed those days and for the first time in a while he wished she was here with him, or he was over there, back in Liverpool, and that they could have nights like that again. More guilt for his actions of the previous week gnawed at him, and he felt his throat dry out as he remembered why he had called her in the first place.

“You know how much I would like that,” he said, trying his best to sound casual. “I wish I could see you in it.”

For a moment it remained quiet on the other end of the line, and for a second Paul thought he had said something wrong or that she had noticed something was off, but then his phone began to buzz and he groaned as he realised what she had done.

“Don’t look at it now,” Dot said, a giggle in her voice, and Paul swallowed thickly, wishing she hadn’t done that, knowing how upset she was going to be when he would tell her he had kissed another guy, especially after having foolishly accused her of having done the same thing the next day. God, he was a crap boyfriend. Fiance. Whatever.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Dot asked and Paul shrugged as he began to spin circles in his chair.

“Just wanted to hear your voice again,” he lied, though he figured it was alright, seeing as there was some aspect of truth in there. “You’re not still mad at me for last week, are you?” Paul bit his lip and crossed his fingers as he hoped for the best, and sighed in relief as Dot chuckled.

“Don’t be silly. I was just worried. Is that why you called? You were afraid I despise you now?” she asked and Paul ran a hand through his hair as he gathered up courage, figuring he might as well do it now. When he tried to speak, however, the words got lost halfway, and in the end it was Dot who spoke again, asking him about university and George and his life in general, and Paul answered accordingly, occasionally trying to guide the conversation to John, but found it hard to say anything about him.

In the end, they just spoke for a while, and Paul made sure to ask about her as well, but with every good thing she told him about what was going on in her life, the more difficult it became for Paul to tell her the truth. It had been a while since he had last heard Dot this happy and carefree, and he didn’t want to ruin that with his stupid mistake, seeing it had already been his fault she hadn’t felt that way for so long in the first place. His kiss with John hadn’t meant anything, and Dot deserved the happiness she felt right now, seeing how hard the last two years had been on them. But at the same time, he knew Jane was right. He needed to tell her. She had to know… even if it would hurt her.

All too soon, though, Paul could hear the sound of a doorbell ringing on the other end of the line, signalling Dot’s friends had arrived and Paul groaned, knowing that if he was going to tell Dot today, he was going to do it now, possibly with them around. But he really didn’t want to hurt her. Not now… She was about to go out after all, he couldn’t just ruin her entire evening with his own stupid mistake, could he?

“Oh sorry, love. The girls are here. I have to go,” Dot said, and her voice turned suddenly serious and full of concern. “You are alright, right?”

Paul smiled weakly at that, wishing she wouldn’t ask, wishing they could just pretend the last two years hadn’t happened, but he knew she had every reason to. Dr Collins had told her to do so in the first place, and she had been doing it dutifully for months now. He hadn’t deserved Dot, and he still didn’t deserve her. She shouldn’t have to deal with this. With him. With his stupid issues.

“Dot,” he said and he knew he ought to say it now. Dot, I kissed someone. I am sorry. I was drunk and it was a mistake. He could say it now and have it over with, but the concern in Dot’s voice made it impossible to do so. She deserved to have fun this evening, to not have to worry, to not have to fight with him again, to not have him ruin her night for once, like he had done countless of times before.  He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty about that, that it wasn’t his fault, but he could not agree to that. So he didn’t and forced himself to smile. “Have fun, yeah? Don’t worry about me. I’m more than alright.”

“Is George there if you need someone?”

“Yeah… Yeah, he is.”

“Okay good. Cause if you’re not, if you need to talk, and George isn’t there, you can always call me, okay? No matter what,” Dot said and Paul could hear her walk from room the room, doors shutting behind her, and he sighed.

“I know. But I’m fine. No need to worry. Just have fun and… I’ll talk to you again later, yeah?” he asked and he could hear Dot smile as she agreed.

“Yeah. Talk to you later, Paul! And don’t forget the picture I sent you. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” she said and with that they quickly said goodbye before she hung up on him, making Paul feel suddenly incredibly alone.

He simply sat there for a while, chin resting on his knees as he stared at his Elvis calendar, wondering if he had done the right thing. His phone went off twice, and both times Paul declined it as he saw it was Jane, probably wondering how the talk had gone. A talk they hadn’t had, even though Paul knew they should’ve. He just felt so guilty… not necessarily about what had happened with John, but about everything having to do with Dot. She didn’t deserve him. She deserved more, she deserved to be happy and to be with a guy she wouldn’t constantly have to worry about, and who was still eager to talk to her every day and missed her and wanted to see her. Not someone who kissed other guys and was afraid of even just calling her.

He glanced at the picture Dot had sent him, and it was exactly what he had expected and he felt a tingle in his crotch at the sight. Yet, he deleted it. It didn’t feel right, seeing her like that while she remained unaware of what he had done.

Sighing, he put his phone aside and got up from his desk to collapse on the bed instead, feeling emotionally and physically drained. He landed half on top of his school bag and kicked it aside to make room for himself. It fell off his bed with a loud thud and glancing down at it, he noticed a couple of books, a pen, and his notebook had fallen out. Sitting up, he picked up the latter and opened it on a random page and began to leaf through it as he picked up said pen with his toes, thinking that maybe writing something would help him. Dr Collins had always encouraged him to write whenever he was feeling down or simply strange, and Paul had to admit it worked. As he skimmed through it, however, he saw some scribbles here and there in another person’s hand. At first he barely noticed them, but then his eye caught one of them. It was a little note, written next to one of his better songs with a tiny arrow pointing towards it. The handwriting, messy but small, was unfamiliar to Paul, but as he read what it said, there was no doubt in his mind who had written in it.

“Not Bad, Mr Melody Man…”, the text read and Paul stared at it in disbelief, before he silently grumbled John’s name to himself. That fucker, he thought and with that he slammed his notebook shut and shot up from his bed, energy levels suddenly restored. Without so much as a thought, he stormed out of their flat and knocked onto John’s door, ready to confront him. John, however, didn’t answer, not even when Paul shouted at him to come out, and eventually he had to admit to himself that John simply wasn’t home.

Grumbling some more curses, he tore a piece of paper from his notebook and hastily wrote John a warning note, telling him to never read or write in his journal ever again as he called him a twat and couple more inventive insults, before he folded it up and shoved it under his door for him to find.

“Asshole,” he muttered, and kicked the offensive door in revenge before returning to his own flat, throwing the door shut behind him in frustration. He was going to get him back for this. Somehow. He threw himself onto his bed and cried until he heard George and Ringo come home.

Previous Chapter

[bertann]

The Mother Dearest Theory

I almost named this theory “Return of the Mother of all Theories” but I thought “The Mother Dearest Theory” would probably be more fitting considering what this is going to be about. If you haven't caught on by now with the name, let me fill you in… This theory is going to outline why I think Mary Drake is possibly the new A.D. 

I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW “But Rachel, what about Melissa/Twin/Any other possible character?” Simply because… There are too many things that point to Mary that I just can't ignore anymore, and in true PLL fashion there is possibly Hitchcock involved. From the very beginning when Mary was introduced, she rubbed me the wrong way, something about the way she talks and carries herself screams psychopath to me (and trust me… I've spent most of my life researching them.) What she says doesn't necessarily coincide with what she does, and things have been gradually building up to the point I can't ignore the signs anymore.

 So, let's start at the beginning so to speak… I’m going to talk about the twins from the Halloween story. We all know how it goes, one twin gets jealous of what the other twin had and then one twin stabs the other. Mary stabbed Jessica, Mary went to Radley, Mary met Pastor Ted and had Charlotte, Mary pretended to be Jessica, Mary got pregnant with Spencer by pretending to be Jessica with Peter (which is the huge secret Jessica and Peter had that they had a deal with), and Mary is batshit fucking crazy.

 Also let me ask this question, did we all just up and fucking forget this happened? 

How the hell did we forget that Mary dressed up as her dead sister to scare Alison (AND PUT HER IN THE HOSPITAL) and for that matter… How in the bloody hell did Mary know what Jessica was buried in if she wasn't there burying herself. And for that matter, it would mean she ways the one who not only buried her- but she was there when Alison was buried as well. If you remember in season 5 when Alison came back to rosewood and Jessica’s body was found, Alison got a video of her mother being buried with a text attached saying “I buried her the same way I watched her bury you.”

 To be fairly truthful whether Mary stabbed Jessica doesn't matter, the facts are that Mary spent a lot of time in Radley where (like I've outlined multiple times in other theories and it actually comes into play later…) Mary assumes Jessica’s identity which confirms not only that she was the mother Bethany was talking about and the “is it like mother like daughter?” Was referring to Mary and Charlotte and not Jessica and Alison, which is confirmed by the flashback of Jessica screaming at Alison that Cece was at Radley calling herself Alison. 

 Now to my favorite part… The Hitchcock aspect. Does everyone remember that scene where Hanna was being tortured in the barn and she hallucinates that's Spencer is there stroking her hair and singing a song? (The same song and scene that they recreated with Mary and Spencer in the 7x10) 

Yeah that's not a coincidence, look at Mary’s history… She assumes Jessica’s identity, she assumes Charlottes identity as A.D., she’s now assuming Spencer’s identity. Yes, my friends… PLL is pulling a reverse Psycho where Mother assumes the role of Norman instead of the other way around. Think about it, what’s the FIRST thing she does? Buy the lost woods, just as Norman Bates did with his mother and the bates motel. And just as Norman Bates assumed the identity of his mother, Mary seems to take the personality of her daughters on- becoming A.D. As Charlotte was A, and now becoming more caring, calm, and subdued like Spencer… Also people have been passing around this photo:

 I’d like you to notice something, look at the make-up and body language of both the scene where Spencer’s with Hanna and this scene compared to Mary’s tea cup scene… That ISN’T Spencer in there… That’s Mary. Confirmed by the fact Andrea was wearing the EXACT dress she was wearing.

Also, since we know for sure Mary and Archer we're working together (and that she was helping torture Alison) guess who the only other person was who knew about the barn? Yep. Mary. And what just happened last episode? Hanna getting locked in like she was back in the barn, considering Archer is dead… There's really only one other person who knew. Mary. 

Mary seems to have a pattern of assuming the identities of people she’s close with, so naturally that next step would be Spencer. Mary showed up before Charlotte died and A.D. Was introduced just as Charlotte appeared once Mona lost the game as A after season 2. 

Mary bought the Lost Woods where Hanna was kidnapped and tortured. And for that very matter how in the living fresh hell did she get that money in the first place? Mary was known to be working with Archer and we know for a fact whoever A.D. Is not only worked with Archer but knows the girls killed him. 

 We know for a fact that Mary was involved with everything because she LITERALLY SAYS TORTURING ALISON IS WHAT CHARLOTTE WOULD HAVE WANTED. Just like some antagonist I know of who seems to be targeting the girls because they think they had something to do with Charlotte’s death. 

We also know Jessica had some sore of heart condition and trouble getting to sleep (as per her prescriptions) that I don't know… Would probably coincide with a devastating childhood trauma involving her twin sister? Which would only make Mary hate Jessica even MORE causing her to assume Jessica’s identity. “But she was in Radley!” Doesn't it seem odd to anyone how the twin story was put in chronological order to where oddly a Radley sanitarium car shows up at the house the exact DAY the twin story is told? 

 This would also mean Charlotte, Mary, and Bethany were all in Radley at the same time and if that doesn't scream trouble incoming I don't know what does. This also brings me to the obvious blatant lie that Mary and Charlotte didn't know each other. She literally called herself Cece Drake. The same last name. And Mary says with quite confidence “You’re the only man my daughter truly ever loved” 

Side-note, whoever is revealed as Jessica’s killer could've possibly made the mistake of thinking they were killing Mary instead of Jessica, in which case you’d think it would throw the theory off course- but it actually doesn't. It could've been Charlotte and she lied about it, it could've been someone who thought Jessica was Mary by mistake, it could've been Mary herself. But the signs point to Mary as being her killer, or at least being there as Jessica was being buried per her clothes a la zombie Jessica in 6x20. 

Now as per why… Simple answer, Mary wants everything that she feels was taken from her. She wants the life that she feels was taken from her. She wants revenge for the daughter she lost. She wants revenge on the families who had what she always wanted. 

 As for Charlotte’s killer (If she’s dead at all...) I will tell you that you’d do well to watch Mona. Or even possibly someone who appears to be Mona. They’re going to bring in Melissa and Wren to make it appear as though they have something to do with it, revealing things that we’ve wondered about them for a long time… 

And Melissa’s luggage bag handle may have been missing but I would like to remind you… Who paid off the mechanic and drove the huge truck that nearly ran over Emily to get it back?

 I hope the theory was well worth the wait, it was good to get back in the theory game again. 

Don't worry, we all go a little mad sometimes.

[sintama]

Stardew Valley Fable of the Six Farmers(Chapter 1!)

(This is a long one, brace yourselves! Our sextuplets finally have enough with modern reality and decide to open Grandpa’s letter.) It had been 20 years since grandpa passed away. The sextuplets had grown, passing their classes, making friends, getting into and leaving relationships, causing trouble, graduating… Now, they were each separated, as 24-year-old adults with their own homes, jobs and lives… And it was terrible. Nina had succeeded with average grades, her worst class being English. Her high school years weren’t too exciting- she simply wanted to graduate. But once she did… she had no clue what was next! Being the normal one had its flaws, as she could only get part-time jobs and night shifts for lousy pay… Until Joja Mart was set up and seeking new workers. She jumped at the opportunity, seeing as Joja Mart was practically a superstore! It included employee discounts and everything! HUGE. MISTAKE. Rather than getting the usual supermarket job, Nina was stuck as an office girl, gluing herself to a seat and typing reply letters from happy or unhappy customers for… honestly, she forgot how long. The days wore her out, the nights were miserable, her sleep schedule was never the same, her eating habits out of control. Everything had gone downhill so quickly… On the other side of the coin, Marien had passed high school as a model student. Student council president for three years in a row and a usual volunteer for whatever the school needed. Too bad all that work had gone to waste. Marien had graduate, with the goal to go into college… But without a degree in mind! Rater than waste money on courses, she decided to save up… Which meant working in a run-down grocery store, having to force a smile to even the whiniest customer. Her boss was no help either- insisting she do all the work while co-workers got off slacking. It was a living nightmare. Maybelle ended up no where better. The quiet kid at the back of class who was a B student, was now a delivery girl for the newspaper… The very boring, no-one-buys-this-but-your-aunt newspaper. Her pay was terrible- so poor she had to resort to staying in a crappy apartment with noisy neighbours. She had to pay rent quickly, and worry about food later… She’d sometimes go days on a single meal. Oh, why was the world so unfair? Amelia had tried to stay optimistic- she really did! After all, it was her dream to work with jewellery… But not like this. She didn’t want this… Standing for hours on end, watching patrons in the mall pass by, giving no second thought to the jewellery store on the corner, right across from a family restaurant… She’d be bored out of her mind before her shift was ever over. The jewellery they had wasn’t even well done! It looked cheap, and breakable to even the most average person imaginable. Amelia could do better in her sleep! If one thought Ciel was depressed before adulthood, wait until they see her now! The formerly adventurous and rebellious child was now a lazy, do-nothing adult who lived in the basement of their parents’ home. All she would do is wake up, eat a meal or two, then hide back into the dark basement as she scrolled through posts on her phone until her shift at the arcade. Correction; it wasn’t an arcade- it was more like a video arcade junkyard. The place was a mess, the pay was garbage and the carpet was stinky from… something. Soda? She hoped so… Half the games there were broken, the glass cases smashed by teenagers who had broken in, or simply did it while the workers were on break… And who’s paycheck was cut because of it? Ciel’s. It didn’t help that the arcade was on the pier, Ciel having a fear of the ocean since a bunch of drunk teens thought it’d be funny to take the employee of the arcade and throw her out into the ocean on a stormy night… It… wasn’t pleasant. Cynthia was the last to embrace the empty feeling that had consumed each sister one by one, like grapes picked off the vine. She was the worst academically, so she only got a job at a fast food joint down the street. Not only were the hours long and every day, but she had to deal with the DUMBEST people! If the menu doesn’t say it’s 10 dollars, then it isn’t 10 dollars!! Understand this, please! And then there’d be times she would be blamed for another worker’s error. Like, no, she didn’t do your order- yell at Steve, not her. It began to weight her down, her smile having to turn more and more forced by the day… Suddenly, as if on instinct, one night, each sister remembered the letter their grandfather gave them on his death bed… One by one, they searched for the letter, eventually finding it in drawers or a dirty cabinet or their pocket. Taking a deep breath, they peeled back the covering and took out the letter. As if by fate, each had their names on it… ‘My dearest Nina,’ The letter began, the handwriting slightly shaken, though it was obviously their grandfather’s writing. ‘I understand you are a very sociable girl, even at your age! In the future, you will find your outgoing nature to be your greatest strength, and it will guide you on the path of success. Rather than give you and your sisters a random object that could easily be lost or forgotten, I am giving you one of my six farms. Yes, that’s right, your old man had six farms. Though, some got more use than others. One of them, which I am bestowing onto you, dear Nina, is Magnolia Farm, named after the wonderful magnolia flowers your great grandmother gave me. This land is just outside of town, only a short trip away. I figured it would be perfect for you, seeing as you adore meeting new people so much! Where is Magnolia Farm? It is in Stardew Valley, a country-side town I lived in for years. I have told the residents to prepare for your arrival- don’t be surprised if the Mayor visits you first, Lewis was always such a funny fellow! Much love, Grandpa.’ ‘My dearest Marien,’ Marien read on, having to grab her reading glasses for this. ‘Do you remember the time you shared a story with me? The one about the water princess? And how you were convinced the river outside my home would take you to her kingdom? And you kept saying you would be the next heir to the water throne? You were so captivated by the water, I sometimes thought I’d have to drag you back indoors! I hope this love for nature continues into your adolescence. Because, rather than give you and your sisters an object or heirloom to share, I’ve decided to give you each one of my old farms. You, dear Marien, will earn the deed to Stardew Farm, a farm surrounded by rivers. It’s quiet a way away from town, but I’m sure you will enjoy the solitude it brings. Stardew Farm is in Stardew Valley, a country-side town that small and quaint- just your taste. Don’t worry, your sisters will be joining you there. Become your own water princess, my dear Marien. Grandpa believes in you!’ ‘My dearest Maybell,’ Maybelle sighed. “Even after four years, he can’t spell my name.” She scoffed, laying back before glancing at the ceiling, as if her grandfather could hear her. “There’s an ‘e’ at the end…” Nonetheless, she read on. ‘I understand you are not the most sociable person out of your sisters. I also understand your hidden love for nature.’ “…Shit, he caught on.” Maybelle chuckled to herself. ‘From the walks in the woods, to the grass bracelets, your love of the forest was apparent from the start. As such, rather than give you or your sisters an heirloom to share, I’ve decided to give you each one of my farms. You, dear Maybel,’ “My name isn’t that hard!” Maybelle whined, groaning into a pillow in anger before continuing. ‘Will be the new proud owner of Pine Farm, a lot of lush land that lays deep within the forest of Stardew Valley. The path may be overgrown by now, but with your hard work, you’ll clear it in no time. Do you remember Stardew Valley? I showed it to you and your sisters a while back. It’s in the country; it’s a small town with a low population. The locals will be very friendly, I should know. Hopefully, one of them remembers where Pine Farm is, and can guide you there. Enjoy yourself. -Grandpa. P.S:’ Wait, there’s more? ‘I know how to spell your name, Maybelle. I just enjoy messing with you.’ “…Of course.” Maybelle shook her head, chuckling. ‘My dearest Amelia,’ “Oh! That’s me!” Amelia smiled, relieved to hear, or rather read, her grandpa’s voice again. ‘Do you still have that ring you ‘borrowed’ from grandma’s jewellery box?’ “…Uh oh, he knew about that?” ‘Or the ruby necklace that you swore you’d only put on for a second?’ “…And that?” ‘Or what about the diamond bracelet that you got muddy?’ Amelia gulped. Grandpa was far too observant for her liking… ‘Nonetheless, I trust you have kept every piece of grandma’s jewellery safe from further harm, yes?’ This letter just made Amelia feel worse… She had to sell most of it to pay for housing, food and what have you… Though she did keep quite a bit of it. ‘Either way, your love of jewels must mean you like digging for them, right? I remember how many times I’d have your father bury a small stone for you to dig up in your sandbox or in the backyard. I hope your love is still strong- because, instead of giving you and your sisters money or more objects, I’ve decided to give you each one of my farms in Stardew Valley. You, my dear Amelia, will get Crystal Farm. Don’t get too excited now! The farm is atop a large hill, where mining is a major source of income and you can mine all the gems you desire!’ Amelia jumped to her feet, her eyes beaming at the thought. Her own gems? It sounded too good to be true! ‘Remember to visit town when you can, and be mindful of the weather- wind is terrible up there! Love, Grandpa.’ ‘My dearest Ciel,’ Ciel blankly looked at the paper. Great, after 20 years of nothing, she was getting something stupid- a watch, maybe? ‘I know you don’t like reading,’ No. ‘or listening to rules,’ Nope. ‘or doing anything by the book.’ Got that right. ‘So, I will be blunt with you. You are without a doubt the bravest of your sisters. You always face danger head on, and it is both admirable, and a very dangerous habit… So, rather than give you or your sisters special prizes, I decided to each give you the deed to one of my farms in Stardew Valley. You, dear Ciel, have Ebony Farm, a farm found deep in the mountains, where monsters lurk at night. I was hesitant to give this to one of you, but I know you can do it. Stardew Valley is a country-side village I fled to when I was in your situation, and I hope it’s a refuge for you and your sisters in your times of need. I wish you all the best luck. -Grandpa.’ Ciel put the letter away, deciding to sleep on it. Would she just abandon everything to go to the country…? ‘My dearest Cynthia,’ Cynthia’s eyes threatened to close already from exhaustion, but… She had to keep reading. ‘I remember you telling me of those summer days, when your family would take you to the beach and you would be the first in the sand, building sandcastles and molding forts while your sisters did their best to stay cool in the water. You said you were stronger, because the heat never bothered you. Well, what would you say if I got you a beach farm? Because, I’ve decided to give each of you girls one of my farms in Stardew Valley. Yours, dear Cynthia, is Dusk Farm, situated right on the beach. True, the rising tide may cause some issues, but you are sure to love it!’ A beach farm? That sounded… like an interesting challenge! ‘Do your best. And remember your sunscreen! Love, Grandpa.’ Almost simultaneously, each sister rose to their feet, began packing their bags, gathering what money they could and scrambled to the bus station for a ticket. They were each leaving the next day, wasting no time to escape this dreadful reality to embrace what their loving grandfather had left them. Their gratitude towards him were limitless now; their hearts soaring at the thought of a brand-new life… The next morning, each of them said farewell to their parents, exchanging hugs and kisses and promises to write while tears of happiness were shed. At around 8 A.M, they headed for the bus station to take the bus to Stardew Valley, sitting one behind the other as discussion rose over what was to come of them. What were their first plans? Who would they meet? Were any of them going to back out? No. They couldn’t. This was their new start. But, it was a long bus ride there… Only time would tell of their future in Stardew Valley.

[actutrends]

Former NBA commissioner David Stern passes away at 77

New York City, NY – AUGUST 30: Previous commissioner of the NBA, David Stern participates in the NYCFC pop-up experience shop VIP launch party on August 30, 2017 in New York City City. (Image by Noam Galai/Getty Images)

Former NBA Commissioner David Stern has actually died. He was 77.

David Stern, former NBA Commissioner who managed rapid growth of the NBA throughout his 30- year tenure, has actually passed away. Stern was77 He was hospitalized for the previous few weeks after suffering a brain hemorrhage.

NBA Commissioner Adam Silver released the following declaration:

For 22 years, I had a courtside seat to view David in action. He was a mentor and one of my dearest good friends. We spent numerous hours in the office, at arenas and on aircrafts, anywhere the game would take us. Like every NBA legend, David had extraordinary skills, however with him, it was constantly about the principles– preparation, attention to information, and effort.

David took control of the league in 1984 with a league at a crossroads. But throughout 30 years as Commissioner, he introduced the contemporary international NBA > He launched groundbreaking media and marketing collaborations, digital possessions and social obligation programs that have actually brought the video game to billions of individuals around the globe.

Since of David, the NBA is a genuinely international brand– making him not only one of the best sports commissioners of all time however also one of the most prominent business leaders of his generation.

Every member of the NBA household is the recipient of David’s vision, kindness and motivation. Our inmost condolences head out to David’s partner, Dianne, their kids Andrew and Eric, and their extended family, and we share our grief with everybody whose life was touched by him.

Tributes from the NBA community began to pour in as the news flowed.

Dwyane Wade, Richard Jefferson and Isaiah Thomas were among the very first NBA gamers to share their thoughts and sensations about Stern on Twitter. Expense Russell, Pau Gasol, Scottie Pippen, Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Shaquille O’Neal, Kobe Bryant and more followed.

The 2 crucial people in the history of the game of basketball are Dr James Naismith and DAVID STERN. One man developed the video game and the other made it what it is today. RIP David, numerous owe you a lot!

— Richard Jefferson (@Rjeff24) January 1, 2020

Prayers up for David Stern and his household!!

— Isaiah Thomas (@isaiahthomas) January 1, 2020

I can not take into words what the friendship of David Stern has actually indicated to me however lots of others. He changed a lot of lives. David was a terrific innovator and made the game we enjoy what it is today. This is an awful loss. Our hearts are with Dianne & their household. RIP my good friend. @NBA pic.twitter.com/mbnneqm18 s

— TheBillRussell (@RealBillRussell) January 1, 2020

Very unfortunate day for basketball. We saw David Stern a lot in the 90 s and I found him to be kind, thoughtful and generally the smartest individual in the space. He was an innovator who assisted grow our sport into an international game and his effect will never be forgotten. RIP, Commissioner. pic.twitter.com/FzlJwnJmrK

— Scottie Pippen (@ScottiePippen) January 1, 2020

David Stern was such a history maker. When I revealed in 1991 I had HIV, individuals believed they could get the infection from shaking my hand. When David allowed me to play in the 1992 All Star Game in Orlando and then bet the Olympic All-star Team, we had the ability to change the world.

— Earvin Magic Johnson (@MagicJohnson) January 1, 2020

The video game altered in a lot of methods under David Stern’s management and vision. He required the very best of everyone because he provided it himself. #Respect Thank you Commissioner. RIP pic.twitter.com/veT9GQfrdC

— Kobe Bryant (@kobebryant) January 1, 2020

Thank you David Stern! You altered everything and we’re permanently grateful. Rest In Peace. Great deals of love to the Stern household.

— Steve Nash (@SteveNash) January 1, 2020

Sad news. We lost a legend! RIP David Stern

— Dirk Nowitzki (@swish41) January 1, 2020

RIP David Stern, a path blazer in making the NBA truly a global sport. We can’t thank you enough. Condolences to the Stern Household

— Ben Simmons (@BenSimmons25) January 1, 2020

When I was a kid I would view the NBA drafts all the time. I used to dream about getting prepared, putting on my hat, and shaking his hand, and achieving a dream. He helped take the game to brand-new heights. RIP to the TERRIFIC David Stern.

— Jamal Crawford (@JCrossover) January 1, 2020

Th NBA and my family would not be in our position if wasn’t for among the best Commissioners in expert sports. RIP David Stern. The video game thanks you and will miss you.

— Karl-Anthony Towns (@KarlTowns) January 1, 2020

NBA media from Rachel Nichols, Bob Ryan, Zach Lowe, Kevin O’Connor, Chris Broussard, Bill Simmons, Mike Greenberg, Colin Cowherd and Jay Bilas were amongst those who shared their compassions for the Stern household while expressing the effect Stern had on the league.

Such unfortunate news from the NBA– previous commissioner David Stern, 77, has actually passed away after suffering brain hemorrhage 3 weeks back. Everybody owe Stern such a debt– he made American pro sports a more thrilling, more inclusive, more enjoyable location to be. He will be missed out on. pic.twitter.com/u8uAvJotIH

— Rachel Nichols (@Rachel__Nichols) January 1, 2020

I am really saddened to hear that David Stern has passed away. He helped transform a sleeping giant of a sport into an international force. Even better, he was an anti-stuffed t-shirt commissioner, a man you might joke and have a good time with.

— Bob Ryan (@GlobeBobRyan) January 1, 2020

There is no method to encapsulate David Stern’s effect on sports– and issues beyond sports– into a tweet. Rest in peace to the once and permanently commissioner.

— Zach Lowe (@ZachLowe_NBA) January 1, 2020

Rest in peace, David Stern. Stern conserved the NBA. The league and the sports world as a whole would not be what it is today without him– his impact is countless. History will remember him as one of the greats.

— Kevin O’Connor (@KevinOConnorNBA) January 1, 2020

Prayers going out to family & friends of former NBA Commissioner David Stern. May he RIP.

— Chris Broussard (@Chris_Broussard) January 1, 2020

David Stern was the most crucial non-player/non-coach who ever passed through the NBA and it’s not truly close. Out of everybody he probably enjoyed the league the a lot of. It’s an unfortunate day. RiP.

— Bill Simmons (@BillSimmons) January 1, 2020

Gutted to hear the news about David Stern. One of the most crucial people in the history of American sports. And among the most dazzling and interesting people I’ve ever had the advantage to satisfy.

— Mike Greenberg (@Espngreeny) January 1, 2020

David Stern was always among my favorite interviews. A couple times a year he would tolerate my latest NBA theory and shoot holes thru it. Constantly willing to take on any subject. Nearly appeared to relish the argument. A perfect, lively guest and a force of nature intellectually. #RIP

— Colin Cowherd (@ColinCowherd) January 1, 2020

RIP to former NBA Commissioner David Stern, who commanded unmatched international development of the NBA and basketball for 30 years. Precious couple of have actually had comparable effect upon the game. Sad news for the world basketball community. pic.twitter.com/8OF1UybTA0

— Jay Bilas (@JayBilas) January 1, 2020

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell shared his thoughts on the “dean of commissioners” by means of Adam Schefter.

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