#and if you miss four or more classes you lose all your participation points. but it's like. a lot of points.

[bluebayard]

i feel like to outside perspectives it is a miracle i am not fifty shades of deceased from the way i live

[ptergwen]

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

-

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money. 

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

-

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

-

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

-

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

[kikis-writing-world]

Pregnancy Announcement HCs

Drabbles under the cut for how Pedro boys would react to your pregnancy, and how you’d share the news. Trigger/content warnings: Pregnancy (both planned and surprise,) mention of abortions as an option, talk of contraception, smut (including cum play, cock warming,) mentions of PTSD and past drug addiction, mentions of dead former partners, blood, periods, doctors/obgyns, single parent/father not wanting to actively participate. If I missed anything, please let me know! Lack of editing as usual... 

Pics are for inspiration, not always an exact replica. All take place in a sort of modern AU where there might be a social media to post pictures to.

Dave York

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Dave already has a family and he made it very clear that he wasn’t leaving them for you. When you found out, you were terrified he would demand you terminate the pregnancy - heck, you considered it briefly yourself. You thought long and hard about your options even before telling Dave.

His first reaction was about as bad as it could get: he said nothing, got up and left. He returned a few hours later when you had already cried yourself hoarse. He held you in his arms as he spoke clearly and carefully. He asked if you wanted to keep the baby, and when he said yes he almost seemed torn. You don’t know if it was wishful thinking that he was excited to have another child, but you swore you saw a sparkle in his eye… of course, it wasn’t that simple.

He told you it wouldn’t be easy for you since he would never be with you like that - you were just the nanny he was fucking. If you wanted to go it alone, he would help financially and support you as much as he could, but he couldn’t claim the baby as his and risk losing his daughters.

You were going to have to go the single mother route, and if anyone asked you’d have to either say it was a fling or the father wasn’t interested in being in the picture.

Din Djarin

In all honesty, you were surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Din loved to cum inside of you. He’d lay with you, his softening cock still inside you to make sure nothing slipped out. When he finally did, he’d watch with amazement as your body twitched as it adjusted to emptiness. Gently, he’d push any dripping cum back into your fluttering hole. His deep, gruff voice was laced with exhaustion and lust as he would talk about filling your pretty pussy, not wasting a drop…

When you started getting ill, you at first thought it was just a passing bug. It was inevitable with all the travel that you would fall under the weather. Two weeks into the churning stomach, you realized you missed a period. 

When you brought it up to Din, he changed all travel plans - the bounties could wait, he had to get you to the nearest clinic ASAP. The test coming back positive had him glowing with pride. It was hard to convince him to wait until further along to announce the pregnancy, knowing anything could happen in these early stages. As soon as you gave him the all-clear, he did everything but shout it from the rooftops. By the time the picture was posted -your headgear, his helmet, and a tiny helmet between - everyone already knew anyway.

Ezra

It was a surprise, but not a shock. You and Ezra, although you tried to be safe, definitely had a habit of being caught up in the moment and forgetting certain precautions. A walk through the forest that led to a beautiful field of flowers, a picnic on a moonlit beach - there were times Ezra was so overwhelmed by your beauty and the beauty around him that he just got swept up. It was hard not to get swept up with him.

He was ecstatic when you told him you thought you might be pregnant. He could hardly wait for you to take a test. His knee bounced anxiously as you waited the 2 minutes, holding your hand tightly in his. The positive result brought tears to his eyes as he embraced you close but gently, already scared of hurting the baby. He saw it as nothing less than a blessing. He dropped to his knees as soon as he let you go, already talking to the bundle of cells, calling them his little shining star. The nickname sticks throughout the pregnancy, leading to a beautiful space-themed nursery and all events leading up to the birth, including the announcement.

Frankie Morales

You’re absolutely terrified to tell Frankie. You knew he wanted to be a father, but the two of you had talked so much about the fears you shared about being parents. Mental health, substance abuse, financial stability - it made the concept of “starting a family” overwhelming.

Your stomach rolled the whole time you waited for him to get home from work, little plastic test taunting you from the table. What if it set him off? He’d been sober for years, but you knew every day was a new battle. You were so consumed by your own thoughts, playing out how he might react in your head, that you didn’t even hear him come in.

“Are you…” He half-asked the question, eyes darting between you and the test. You couldn’t find your voice, only nod. The facial change in him was immediate: broad smile and wonder in his eyes as he laughed, scooping you into his arms. You clung to him just as tightly as he started laughing, too much joy coursing through him. As he started crying “holy shit, I’m going to be a papa,” how could you have possibly doubted he’d be anything but ecstatic?

You each tell your closest friends and your families, but you manage to keep it under wraps for the first months until posting your announcement and shocking everyone. Toes in the sand at the beach of your favorite camping spot, imagining the sandcastles and other games you’d be playing in the near future - it was everything you could ever want.

Jack Daniels

The two of you were religiously careful. You had talked about a family, but had agreed that until Jack was ready - which may or may not happen - you were going to prevent it. But life finds a way…

You find out much later than you would have liked - nearly 3 months in, you missed the whole first trimester. Looking back, there were obvious signs of pregnancy but you just didn’t think it was possible. You and Jack find out together at a doctor’s appointment. You leave the office shell shocked with a stack of pamphlets to consider your options and an appointment for next week. When you get home, Jack doesn’t even talk about it. You try to bring it up a few hours later, but he ignores you.

Finally, 3 days later, you can’t take it anymore. You feel like you’re in this completely alone at this point as you yell at him “ignoring it won’t make it go away!” Jack breaks down and tells you he’s so damn scared. He cries in a way you’ve never seen him cry, talking about how he wants a family with you but he can’t go through that kind of loss a second time. It nearly killed him the first time and he wouldn’t be able to handle it again. You talk long into the night about all of it - both of your fears, worries, dreams, thoughts - nothing is off limits as you talk about all the possibilities lying in front of you. Even through the fear and trauma, one thing is clear: you both want this.

It’s not easy, but your doctor helps relieve some worries. She speaks frankly to you about the development of the baby along the way and suggests a therapist that might be able to help, as well as classes you can take on parenting. It doesn’t take long for the worried “what ifs” to be paired with excited “whens.”

Javier Peña

When Javier Peña walked into your small town police station, you thought you were dreaming. Sent to help with a case that your rural forces didn’t have the experience to handle, he was only supposed to be in town as long as the case took. You never imagined you, just a lowly admin, would catch his eye.

It didn’t take long for you to tumble into the bed of his hotel room. And your bed at home. And your car. And his truck. And just about any possible surface in between. What you thought was a one night stand turned to three, then four, and soon into a full fledged fling. You knew the expiry date hanging above your heads, so you kept your feelings for the charming (if a little gruff around the edges) agent locked deep away. The case took about two months, and then he was gone just as suddenly as he arrived.

A month after his departure, when you found out you were pregnant, you didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t even left you his number, so you were sure he had no plans to see you ever again. Should you track him down and let him know, or just carry on with this on your own? You spent night after night talking to the growing baby, asking what you should do.

Javier ended up answering the question for you, when he unexpectedly walked into the station once more. He asked to speak with you privately before admitting he had missed you. He told you about trying to forget you, only to spend most of his evenings telling his father about you. Eventually you cut him off with a kiss, telling him you’re glad he came back. You take his hand, placing it on your stomach when you tell him you had been thinking about him too.

Javi helps you secure a transfer to Laredo and even though you technically have your own place, you’re spending practically every night with him anyway. If anyone wondered why the move, well the recognizable mustache on your announcement answered their questions.

Marcus Moreno

Marcus doesn’t believe you the first time you tell him “I think I’m pregnant.” He remembers his wife’s pregnancy with Missy, and you haven’t shown any of those signs. You roll your eyes and tell him that every woman and every pregnancy is different, but he still doesn't believe you. It isn’t until he’s staring down at three tests, all positive, that it clicks in his head he’s having a second child.

He’s excited, but he admits he’s scared. He’s older now, what if he can’t keep up with a baby? More than that, he’s worried about Missy.

You both know you don’t want Missy to feel left out or replaced by a new sibling. The two of you have a good relationship, but of course there were speed bumps to get there. She understood you weren’t trying to replace her mother. Would she be as understanding, knowing that you weren’t trying to replace her?

You and Marcus sit her down and tell her together. Before you can even start on your planned spiel about how the family is growing and no one is getting replaced, she is talking a mile a minute about having a little sister. You and Marcus share a relieved breath and lock eyes before you have to remind her that it might be a little brother. This seems to dampen her mood a little bit, but overall she’s still excited… even if she is adamant she isn’t touching any stinky diapers.

Another way you make sure to include her, is how you announce it to your friends and family. You’re sure, with Marcus’ status, it will get out to the public eventually, but you start by sending close friends and family a picture of Missy wearing a shirt calling her a “Big Sister.” She loves the photoshoot, making all kinds of faces as you snap away on your phone. Happy, sad, pouting, crazy… they all go in the baby book.

Marcus Pike

It was only a few months after your wedding that you and Marcus were ready to start a family. You didn’t “start trying” as much as you “stopped preventing.” There were a few false starts when your period would be late or the time you caught the stomach flu, but a few weeks short of your first wedding anniversary, you were pregnant.

Marcus spent many nights laying next to you in bed, hand on your stomach as he just stared at you - to the point where you actually started to get annoyed by it. He was amazed at your body changing, at the growing child inside of you, that he was finally getting the “happy ever after” he’d been looking for all his life.

The announcement was hilarious to shoot. Marcus and you were covered in paint splotches, laughing with love shining in your eyes. You held a palette Marcus knelt in front of you with a paintbrush, painting “Masterpiece coming soon” on your stomach where the bump had just started showing with the right angle.

Max Phillips

Max knew before you did, even if he didn’t put it all together. He started complaining that you tasted different, smelled different. Not just your blood, but as he spent hours trapped between your thighs. His keen senses had him identifying a change, but neither of you knew what change it was. After all, as far as you knew, a vampire couldn’t get a human pregnant.

Max whined when your period was late - he loved your time of the month. “Best of both worlds” he would say as he feasted on you for as long as you could stand it. It had happened before, your period being late due to stress or illness, but this time it wasn’t just a day or two. A few weeks later nothing had happened. A quick trip to your gynecologist confirmed it.

“I thought you said there was no way you could be pregnant,” she teased as she showed you the results.

Max was shocked, scared, and then proud as a pig in shit. He was terrified to be a father, but he hid that behind a swagger and a “yeah, I knocked her up. Not even death can stop these swimmers.”

Even if you did try to hide it for much longer, the vampires he worked with could smell the change in you too. Put together with Max’s protectiveness over you being ramped up even more than it had been… it was easy to figure out.

You took the picture as a joke - it was supposed to be a compromise that if you took this photo, he’d take the cheesy ones you wanted - but damn if it wasn’t your favorite of the bunch.

Maxwell Lord

You know that Maxwell had a bad history with family. First his parents weren’t as supportive as they could have been, and then his ex-wife had all but used Alistair against him anytime she could. You knew he may be nervous when you shared the news, but you didn’t expect him to turn into Maxwell Lord, television personality instead of your Max.

The first question out of his mouth was “is it mine?” Which broke your heart and set a fire in your gut. You threw anything you could get your hands on at him screaming at him for accusing you of cheating on him. You had just started to calm down when he mentioned lawyers and set you off again. You knew his past, but you truly thought he loved you and that you were his future.

You left, booking yourself in at a hotel. You didn’t leave the room - not only had you not packed anything and knew the paparazzi would devour a picture of you looking so disheveled, but you just couldn’t find it in you to go anywhere. You stayed in the room, ordering room service, watching TV, and crying. In a fit of rage, you had thrown the bottles from the mini bar across the room, needing to channel your anger and knowing you couldn’t drink your sorrows away anyway. 

He showed up a few days later, having followed the credit card charges to the hotel, looking remorseful. He apologized for the way he reacted, and you heard him out despite still being upset. There was a long talk in which you reminded him that you’re not his ex or his mother. You’re not trying to screw him over or get anything from him by having his child. It takes him a long time and a lot of groveling for you to truly forgive him, but you go back home that night.

A few months later, as the two of you take a picture on his yacht, both of your hands holding your growing bump, you can hardly tell the fight had happened at all.

Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand

Ellaria noticed before you did. A mother herself, she picked up on the glow in your skin, the change in your body, and the complaining about aches in your back or your breasts. When she pulled you aside and suggested you were pregnant, all you could do was blink. The three of you didn’t use protection with each other, only when others were invited into your bed. You’d never gone out of your way to prevent pregnancy, so while it shouldn’t have been shocking, it still caught you off guard. Ellaria brought you to her doctor, sitting with you while you found out for sure.

You were nothing but excited to share your news with Oberyn. You knew how he felt about you, about love and passion, about the children he already had. You had no doubt that he would love your child just as much as the rest of his daughters. The night you told him was spent making love while he waxed poetic about you, your body, your child... If you hadn’t already been pregnant, you’re sure you would have been at the end of the night.

With sand snakes spread across Dorne, you struggled for a way to tell them all. Sending letters didn’t seem to do the moment justice. This may be Oberyn’s 9th child, but it was your first and you wanted an extravagant way to share the news. 

Ellaria helped you to plan gathering all the children together. It wasn’t easy, but a month and a half after finding out, you had the whole, huge family together. You posed them all for a picture with you, Oberyn and Ellaria front and centre. You were handed a sign to hold for the picture - supposedly showing the family crest. However as soon as the picture was taken, you turned to show them.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ ​ @din-damn-djarin​​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @kesskirata​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @dihra-vesa​  @vonschweetz​ ​ @insideafictionaluniverse​​ @driedgreentomatoes​​ @computeringturtle​​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @thottiewinemom​ @mrschiltoncat​ @anaaaispunk​

[cosmiclatte28]

00′s Love (Sungchan x you)

a/n : I DID IT!! @starsfly01091711 this one’s for you! A second part to 90′S LOVE

SECOND PART OF 90′S LOVE (Thank you for the much love this story received)

warning : some mentions of forced dietary (not allowed to eat), slight angst, HAPPY ENDING!! I kinda liked the ending, so please if you’re okay with the theme go on read this and tell me what do you think about the ending!

here we goo

Moving on was hard, even when you have been hurt by the past and the present is waiting for you to reach for their hand and walk forward to the future with them.

Mark Lee was your first crush, and everything about a first crush makes it harder for you to realize he was not the one and that you should stop gawking over him and his boyfriend. They look cute, as much as you hate to admit it, Haechan brings a big smile to Mark. A smile you could never see when he is with you.

“(Y/n)!” your instructor yells one more time at you. You shake your head from the daydream and stutter “Yes?”

“Dozing off again? Are you sure you can follow today, you seem a little bit under the weather.” Your instructor skates to you and plants his palm over your temple.

You laugh dryly, “No, I’m okay. I am not sick,” you drop your tone, but deep inside your heart you want to add up “I am not okay, imagine learning your crush has a boyfriend, you have to prepare for the state championship, and you’re just not feeling well inside your heart.”

“Okay, we can take a break if you really need it, but buying more time is what we need. The championship is in three months and its been your dream to participate in one.” He tries to cheer you up.

You nod, “I got this, shall we repeat from the top?”

He nods and turns the music on. You begin dancing on ice, over the soft song of A Silent Voice (Koe no Katachi) and with the sad violin music you close your eyes as you feel the sad song and let your body do its magic on ice.

Your routine ends, all the jumps are perfect and all the spins are gracious. You have to thank yourself for pushing your younger self to the limit in order to reach this point. But something is hollow in your heart, something is missing.

You end the routine and open your eyes, only to let a teardrop fall.

“That was good, your techniques are wonderful but where is the emotion?” your instructor asks as he skates next to you. You wipe the tear and look to your feet.

“I am sorry,” you mutter

“You do know just a great technique won’t help you right?” Taeyong Lee, your best choreographer and instructor sighs.

“Clear your head, you really look … I don’t know… you’re not like you. I will say you take a break today and tomorrow come back only if your heart is okay.” He dismisses you like that and you have your head down while entering the locker room.

“Hey (y/n)~ why the long face?” Sungchan taps your shoulder and goes shocked when he sees your hollow eyes.

“Oh Sungchan-ie,” you force a smile to your face.

“I miss Ten hyung,” Sungchan calmly says while taking out his practice gears from the locker.

You froze in track, oh so someone did miss Ten too. Ten hyung left you to pursue a dream he was chasing. He was offered a scholarship to train and be one of the professional hockey athlete in NEO University. Your parents of course sent him away, with all the proud and happy faces sending their first son to a prestigious school while you, you’re staying here with them alone living through cold nights.

“Can you stop hogging the dinner table, you won’t be going to the championship with that eating behaviour.” Your mother looks at you with disgust as she takes away your plate.

You wanted to complain, how could one let her own child starve, but here you are. Forced to count your calories intake for your upcoming championship. Well, you had to thank her she just wanted the best for you, but what she was doing was a bit over the line.

“Oh my, I was a figure skater myself, and let me tell you we skip dinner.” Your mother said as she cuts you an apple.

Your father always come home late, he has to work extra hours to pay for Ten’s extra living costs, while also supporting your school and athletic life. Mom was a figure skater back then, a great one, until she reached the age of stopping skating. She opened courses for beginner skaters, but she doesn’t want to teach you herself. Mainly because she said a younger trainer will know more than her. Weird? No its also because you don’t want to be tortured by her.

“Now, finish up the fruit and go study or do some more stretches.” She stood away from the table and preoccupied herself into other things.

You missed your old family, where four of you would sit around the table, eating joyfully over luscious or even simple dish. But now, you rarely have anyone to sit with even worse forced to eat just fruits.

“Yeah I also miss Ten.” You finally speak about the truth today to Sungchan.

“When is he coming back?” Sungchan asks you and he has already put on his hockey costume, you didn’t notice that! Taeyong was right why are you so out of your head today.

“He is trying to come home on my competition day.” You fiddle with your hand, suddenly feeling how cold your hands are. You shrug it off as the skating rink’s fault

“Cool, by the way the boys and I are going to grab some tteokbokki after practice, want to join?” he nicely invites you.

You want to go so bad, but imagine the calories and no even worse what will mother say if she saw you eat? But Sungchan has been trying his best to always look after you, especially after he said Ten personally pleaded for Sungchan to look after you.

“I’ll see, if mom is not able to pick me up yet, I can wait and probably join.” You try to make the tall guy smile, he is the sweetest person you have right now. Might as well hold on to him and not let him go, right? Luck was in his side, your mom cannot pick you up that early so you waited for the boys. Your eyes most of the time are focused to Sungchan’s tall figure, but still a glance or two on seeing Mark won’t hurt right? Apparently it hurts. A lot, even more as you think of how silly you looked like to Mark.

“Thank you for waiting,” Sungchan pinches your cheek first thing first after the team laughs along their way to the locker.

You shrug your shoulder “What else can I do?”

Sungchan notices the way your cheek feels different, “Yak why are your cheeks gone?” he quirks an eyebrow

You raise your brow, bewildered that you actually loss weight to that point, “Uh is it? No. you’re just imagining things.” You push him to change with the others and he joins them, but when you take a glance to your reflection you cannot disagree him.

“(y/n) you should eat!” Mark notices how you were quiet when they were shouting of what to order.

You jolt in surprise, “Ah yeah, don’t mind me, I will just order later, not that hungry now.” You smile to him.

“No way a person can stay sane after a skating class. You eat, don’t refuse.” Haechan suddenly speaks ending all of your thoughts. He ordered one for each and you just lose it, “I am in a diet!”

“Just one portion won’t hurt!” Haechan desperately puts his puppy eyes on for you.

“She can share with me, if that makes her more comfortable.” Sungchan calmly glances at you and raises his brow.

“She will share with me,” Sungchan speaks for you when you do not let out any rebuttal.

He understands, Sungchan is magical, in a way that you don’t have to speak your mind out loud, but he can grasp what you want to say. Words you speak in silence, within one look of an eye he understands. Does he secretly have the ability to read mind?

When the hot meal was served, the boys all quickly savour the hot food in front of them. They look super happy and you gasp when Sungchan hands you a fork with tteok in front of your lips.

“Eat up!” he smiles and that makes you finally open your mouth and eat the first yummy food in two months.

“I can eat by myself” you blush when the other members throw both of you a cheesy smile.

“Mark me too! Feed me too” Haechan attempted aegyo and that only earned him a smack from Jeno.

“It’s cute when (y/n) and Sungchan did it, but not you.” Jeno teases the couple and that make the team laughs, you cannot hold your laughter too and somehow laughing makes your shoulder feels lighter.

“You just finish two bars, please at least eat four for me…” Sungchan pleads when he finishes his half or more like three of a quarter. Yang yang is already eyeing your side of the plate, still full of fishcakes and tteoks.

“I am full,” you put your fork down but before you can say anything Mark already poke a fork on one of the red bars and offer it to your mouth “If you do not want to eat for you nor Sungchan, eat for me.” His hand is still hovering, and you glance to Haechan, who just sends you a nod of approval, “You don’t have to do this,” you sigh but take the fork instead.

“You eat, or we will do that one by one.” Said WInwin.

Your eyes pop open “It’s embarrassing! Okay I’ve had three! It’s enough… really… I beg you all, thanks.” You smile when they give up

The team separate way and Sungchan walks with you back home.

“Have you always been like this?” Sungchan asks as two of you walk under the moonlight.

You smile and he answers himself “No, you like tteokbokki. Is it because you still cannot move on?”

You smack your lips “I’ve moved on. Just can’t eat much because of the upcoming competition.”

Sungchan stops in track and looks at you deep into your soul “Mother?”

You force a smile “Aiya no way, how could a mother starve their children?! What will the world say?” you laugh out loud but Sungchan stays serious. He shakes his head and holds your hand tightly “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.” He glances to your shaky hand in his bigger palm, “You were starved!”

You roll your eyes “Not starve. You exaggerated that one.” Though you secretly want to yell and ask him to just bring you foods everyday… but you know you’ll get embarrassed if people find out your mom did this to you.

“I just have to hold on for some months Sungchan, don’t worry.”

He gives up convincing you to eat more when you’re out with him, but he failed. And for once he wanted to turn back time and blamed himself for not forcing you to eat whenever he has the chance.

--

“You were too sick for practice” Sungchan worriedly sits on your side when you’re tying up your skates. His practice is always after yours, but for the last two months he had been coming to cheer you up on your practice and bring you small foods.

“I am not sick,” you chuckle and wipe a sweat that falls over your head.

“You’re having a cold sweat (y/n), this is not right.” He rummages his bag and takes out one piece of apple “Please,”  he pushes his hand out to you and you shake your head “I can’t. I have to warm up, see you prince.” You lean in to kiss his cheek and his eyes twinkle for a moment but its soon gone when he sees your fragile poorly fed body slides on the ice rink.

Yes he has brought the relationship up by a notch with you 2 months ago. he’s been a wonderful supportive boyfriend and you would not change him for anyone, not even mark!

Sungchan knows you like his own little sister, he knows your behaviour and he knows how you hide your emotions well. What he doesn’t like is how you can perfectly lie into his face and sometimes he bought it. Like now, you lied about being okay but he can clearly see you looking super tired in the rink.

Sungchan leaves the benchmark and runs when he sees you stopping in the middle of your routine.

“You should eat.” He forces you a bar of chocolate when you reach the chair and finishes a glass of water. “Please eat for me.” He unwraps the bar and pushes it into your lips.

He did not let you eat half, he didn’t want to regret more. He’s been frustrated about your health and he wants to change it. Now it looks like you’re already affected by your mom’s unhealthy diet and he doesn’t want his girl to fall sick or even ruin her body with this kind of lifestyle.

When the bar is done, he offers you a sweet tea and you shake your head refusing his drink. He sighs “Come on, do I have to force this into your mouth?” he twists the bottle open and almost gulps down the drink and you quickly shake your head “I DON’T WANT.”

He quirks his brow “What? You think I’ll force this mouth to mouth? Sexy but nahh I’m not doing it here, there’s minors.” He wiggles his brow and you punch his shoulder.

“Is that all you got? Gosh (y/n) that punch is so weak. Eat more.” He teases you when you angrily grab the drink and gulps half of it.

You feel better, your sugar level is back to normal and you no longer feel cranky. Well, earlier you were cranky to your trainer and that must be because of this.

“Better now?” he asks when you lean into his shoulder. You nod “I was mad earlier, coach kept on telling me I made mistakes.”

Sungchan rubs your hair “Did you though?” You blush and fiddle with your skirt “Well I did. I am just too tired to repeat everything.” You lean your whole body into him and straighten your legs.

Sungchan grabs your hand and kisses the palm “Come on, your sugar level should be better now. Go nail the practice and I’ll bring you for a good dinner. We can have one cheat day right?” he winks and you laugh. Tempted so much by the dinner and feel fluttery because Sungchan can never stop surprising you with small cute romantic actions.

“I know your mom won’t be mad for one meal. I’ll be the one responsible if she is mad!” he sounds so sincere and you can’t hold back your laughter.

“I found myself a great man, didn’t I?” you pinch his cheek and he only kiss your hand “And I found myself a cute princess to take care of.”

Your mood is boosted and you get up from the chair “Watch me prepare for top three! Or Gold as mom said” you roll your eyes and ump down into the rink.

Sungchan stands on the side of the rink and gives you a thumbs up “I am aiming to see you enjoy ad express yourself on ice!”

Your heart softens at that, that was new! Everyone always encourage you for Gold or silver, or perfect performance.. but Jung Sungchan, the star who waits for you when you’re too engaged with the moon. The star in your dark night, the star of your heart, love of your life? He comes up with a new motivation. Not gold, not silver, not even bronze. He did not ask for a perfect performance, but for you, the love of his life, to enjoy and express yourself on ice.  

You can’t wait to nail the rest of your practice and wait for his hockey lesson to finish. Well, you will have to kiss him for his encouraging words, thank him for a great dinner (though you did not know yet what you’ll be eating, but you know it’s gonna be great with him) and of course for reminding you the purpose of life. To enjoy and express yourself.

Your coach heard that too and he comes to whisper “So, I guess you did find the right one. Ready to start over and enjoy yourself?”

You nod and stare into Sungchan with stars in your eyes, “Ready.”

Epilogue

“WHEN I SAY ONE CHEAT DAY, I DON’T MEAN THIS.” You stare in horror at your boyfriend who brings you to an all you can eat restaurant.

He shrugs his shoulder “I am hungry, and you said I can choose.”

You shake your head “Not like this…”

He hugs your shoulder and drags you away from the restaurant “Even when I say dinner’s on me?” he brings you to watch the marbling meat a person is grilling next to the window.

You gulp “It’d be a waste.”

He giggles and ruffles your hair “Fine. We’ll keep this for your after performance. Now what do you want?”

You tighten your hug on his arm and smile “Tteokbokki sounds nice.”

Sungchan smirks “I knew it, you are weak for tteokbokki, that’s why I was super confused when you refuse to eat back then.”

You blush “Stop bringing that up.”

He giggles and bops your nose “Okay darling I’ll stop, anything to make you smile and be happy.”

“I love you Sungchan!”

“I love you most, (y/n)!”

 fin.

tell me what do you think?? it’s happy ending right ;D

[sugadaily]

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music. How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible. How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities. How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing? Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery. You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

What movies did you watch? SUGA: I watched ‘Samjin Company English Class’ as it happened to be on IPTV, and now I have ‘Tenet’ on my list. ‘Parasite’ was the last movie I saw at a cinema. As the social distancing measures became stricter, I haven’t been going outside, except going to the hospital. I even eat at home. I'm also watching a lot of TV nowadays. Watching music shows like ‘Sing Again’, ‘Folk Us’, and ‘Show Me The Money 9’ made me think of what I should do in the upcoming days. Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all. What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe. Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me. As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords. It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

This is actually before you started playing the guitar, but I found ‘Telepathy’ in BE very interesting. The varying melodic progressions between hooks for each member made me wonder if you wrote the melody intuitively for each part. SUGA: I tried a melody for the first time this year (2020), and as I started knowing the fun of music, it opened a lot of new doors for me. So it was kind of easy working on it. I just played a beat and wrote from the beginning until the end. Done. I wrote it in just 30 minutes. The song almost wrote itself. The trends of pop and hip-hop these days cross boundaries between vocals and rap. I like this trend. When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap. In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles. In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

It seems you achieved almost everything that you wanted in BE. SUGA: I think it took less than a week to make my part in the album. After having written one or two melodies for ‘Life Goes On’, I wrote a version complete with rap, and liked it that I even worked on a separate arrangement and lyrics. Rather than pondering over the ways that might work, I choose to simply play the music and write. Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects. What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things. In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky. ‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

In what aspect haven't you changed much? SUGA: Before the social distancing measures got stricter, I talked with the photographer for BE, whom I had met four years ago. The photographer was surprised that we hadn’t changed much after all the success, even though he had assumed we’d be very different. I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?” Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited. In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished. Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

What kind of music do you think you’ll be engaged in in the future? SUGA: I was greatly motivated when I saw the concert of Na Hoon-a last Chuseok . I wondered how many musicians would actually be able perform and write music for so long like he has. At that moment, it occurred to be that ‘I want to be like him’. He has passion and desire, and most of all, he is a superstar. A few years ago, I took my parents to a Na Hoon-a concert, and when they watched the performance last Chuseok, they said it was way less impressive to see him perform through the TV. (Laughs) That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come. The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 01

You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of baggage at 23.  Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy 

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence (stab wound), mentions of anxiety, swearing

Note: I was watching B99 and I was like ‘Woah, Jungkook would be a hot cop,’ and now we’re here. 

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

If someone had asked you to write a novel about the adventures of your life, it would be extremely thin. Not from your lack of experiences (although it is a pressing factor) but more so from your inability to think about yourself for longer than 3 minutes without feeling sick. You were not a particularly hateful person, especially not towards yourself, but you were an active and anxious thinker and your mind was often boggled with thoughts about what you could’ve or have done wrong and it was exasperating.

For example, occasionally, your professors would allow students to spectate professional research experiments and that month, you were selected (out of pity because Alex was selected and the Professor knew she was your only friend). You knew this was supposed to be an “interesting learning experience” but it was a complete and utter bore. At first you’d convinced yourself it was only boring because you were hungry, then you began to realise it was boring because your singular braincell could not comprehend such complex material on an empty stomach.

So, you left the room to go to McDonald’s, for educational purposes of course. That was where you went wrong because instead of peacefully enjoying your McChicken you were dealing with your phone which was blowing up with messages from Alex about how you were missing ever so much from the research lab. However, it seemed to you that perfectly cut fries were more interesting than watching microscopic cells bounce around in a microscope for an hour.

It turned out that watching microscopic cells bounce around in a microscope for an hour was worth a lot of credits and you wallowed in self-pity for the mere 24-hours that followed that realisation.

You had fucked up once again, only three days after witnessing all 3 minutes of the splendid research experiment. It was a Saturday and you were standing outside your dorm building watching a student yell at a stray cat. It was around 2 in the morning and you were sneaking back from your late shift at the convenience store. Usually, you would have been terrified and confused but you were so tired that you violently pinched your arm and blinked rapidly, hoping it was just an illusion. When the peculiar scene didn’t disappear, you realised this was real but it was too late since the man was now sprinting after you across your quiet and empty campus.

Four years ago, if someone had told your 16-year-old self to participate in your P.E classes because you would later be chased by a crazy man at 2am then you surely would’ve listened. But unfortunately, no one had done such a thing and you were beginning to realise just how regrettable that was. Your running performance was mediocre at best, definitely not fast enough to out run this man across an extremely large campus and you were beginning to lose your breath.

Your only option was to quit while you were ahead and either find somewhere to hide or use your very non-existent combat skills to karate kick the man into the other dimension. Naturally, you hid behind the giant administrator building. As you were finally behind the safe confines of the old brick wall you moved to reach for your phone when you heard an alarming scream. As much as your brain wanted to relish in the relief that the scream wasn’t coming from you, you couldn’t shake the instant guilt. You called the police and tried to sound as reliable as possible but your voice was dripping with fear and you stuttered over your words like a toddler.

Once you were able to clearly see the student, lying on the lawn in pain with what appeared to be a stab wound the guilt completely consumed you but part of you couldn’t even believe this was real. Students woke up from the deafening sounds of sirens and it wasn’t long before this would become a commotion so the officers made quick work of the scene, the ambulance moving him to their van and the police officers continuing their reports. You were asked to go to the station where you would be further questioned by another officer and you didn’t quite understand the need for that escalation but you compiled nonetheless. You didn’t need the police and your conscience to think you were guilty.

You were seated in the backseat of a police car, behind two male officers. Their conversation fell numbly to your ears, your mind already submerged deeply in thought. You didn’t snap out of your trance until the officers repeatedly called for you. “Did you know the boy? The one who was, uh, attacked?” The officer was trying to find the right terms and you commend him for that much, but the last part felt more like an unsure question than a statement and that didn’t sit well with you. “No.” Your answer deadpanned the chance of a conversation, the silence after being the proof. The drive continued for about 3 minutes before you stood at the information desk where you were asked to join the secretary on a walk to the interrogation room. “The officer will be with you shortly. Would you like anything to drink?” She spoke curtly, the annoyed look on her face told you she’d already done this too many times. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

You were confused and guilty and scared. None of this made any sense, you - who never, ever, experienced anything outside your boring routine - was now being questioned for an attack? You were convinced you were borderline insane and that this was just a horrible dream. But, with every tic of the annoying clock on the plain wall behind you, you grew less convinced that this was anything but reality.

“Hello.” The officer walked in, and suddenly you felt like you were in some sick, twisted rom-com because that man might have been the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You didn’t mean to become distracted but he looked like he’d just walked out of a magic mike production and you were frankly astonished because this had to be a dream. His eyes were dark but they shined in the light beautifully, however the furrow in his eyebrows scared you enough to stop staring at his eyes. His build was clearly very developed, he looked like you could bench press you 40 times over and not even break a sweat. Or maybe he was just really fucking hot.

“My name is Officer Jeon and I’m here to ask you a couple of questions, I don’t want you to feel afraid or pressured, just answer me honestly and you’ll be fine.” Although he’d meant to sound soft and reassuring his words sounded more like an indirect threat. A threat that you heard loud and clear. You gulped quietly, the dryness in your throat mocking you as you recalled rejected the offer for a drink. You nodded when you realised he was expecting an answer but it clearly wasn’t enough. “I need you to use your voice at all times in here, this could be used in court and we need you to be very clear so nothing is misinterpreted. Do you understand?” You wanted to cry. All you’d had in plan for the night was to get to your dorm, eat some 99 cent ramen and go to sleep yet here you were at 3 in the morning in an interrogation room for an attack you weren’t even sure you ‘witnessed’. “Yup.”

“Great, then let’s begin. Can you start by stating your name and age?” “Y/N, L/N. 20.” You nearly stuttered which would have been beyond embarrassing. You seriously couldn’t even manage your own name? “Alright, Miss L/N. Why were you out so late?” You paused for a moment to rehearse your answer but you couldn’t quite get it all out. “I work at a convenience store.” You gestured to your name tag for effect and he nodded, writing something down in his notepad.

“How often do you work there?” The question was irrelevant, unrelated and the first tell-tale sign that you were not a witness; you were a suspect. However, you were too tired to notice. “Twice a week. 4pm-2am.” “You live in the dormitories, correct?” You nodded but he gave you a pointed look that reminded you to use words. “Yes.” “2 shifts a week can’t possibly sustain you. How do you pay your dorm fees?” This was when your tired brain began picking up on the fact that you weren’t just a witness. “I tutor high school kids. It pays enough.” He didn’t reply, just wrote something down in his notepad again - an action which was beginning to make you anxious.

“When you were interrogated by the field officer you told him that you were hiding behind the administration building when you’d heard the victim scream, why were you hiding there?” “I was hiding from the uh, a-attacker.” “How did you encounter him before that?” “I already answered this…” You were visibly nervous which couldn’t have looked very promising. “Then you won’t mind answering again.” His tone was menacing and if you weren’t already very intimidated by his role and demeanour then his strikingly good looks would have done the job. You’ve always been very intimidated by attractive people which proved to an insane burden.

“I was returning to my dorm block when I saw him yelling at a cat, he saw me and began to lunge my way so I started to run but I’m not very good at running so I hid behind the building instead. I was in the process of calling the police when I heard the scream and I didn’t move until the police came.” He seemed unsatisfied with your answer but that was understandable. Your monologue wasn’t confidentially given, you stuttered and stumbled over your words consistently out of anxiety, but he didn’t know that and probably thought you were the very thing you had been running from.

“How did you know that the man chasing you was a student? You said he was in the initial questioning.” “I wasn’t sure. It was 2am and he was standing on a student campus, outside a student dormitory. So, I assumed he was a student.” Your tone was a little vindictive, possibly from the frustration of being labeled as a suspect for a crime you were positive you didn’t commit. “Did you know the student who was attacked?” “No. When can I leave?” The question came out rushed and on impulse but you didn’t care. You were far too tired to. “When I ask all my questions.” You nodded absentmindedly, focusing on the plain table instead.

“You think I did it, don’t you?” Tears were welling up in your eyes but you were too dehydrated to cry.  “Right now you’re only a minor suspect, these are routine questions we have to ask and I really don’t see the issue with them if you’re truly innocent.” That surely shut you up, and made you feel a little stupid. Normally a question like that would never come from you but your exhaustion was taking a toll on your patience, and it was a heavy toll at that. “I’m sorry.” His angry features softened at your shaky voice. “How about we continue this tomorrow. Is 2pm okay for you?” You spaced out again, which was probably why he wanted to continue the interrogation the next day. “Is that okay?” He repeated, this time more pressing, you nodded but were quick to once again correct yourself and mutter a quick “yes” before you grabbed your backpack and suppressed the urge to Naruto run out of the room.

You walked out of the double doors only to be met with the dark night sky and a creeping fear that there was someone following you. You walked home from your shift every Friday and Saturday night and until that day nothing extremely bad had happened. Yet here you were cowardly glancing over your shoulder with every chance you got. You hated walking at night because your paranoia constantly slowed you down and what should’ve been a 10- minute walk turned into a 23-minute walk. It didn’t help that your recent encounter kept replaying in your head, the image of the poor victim on the floor vividly appearing every time you blinked.

As you rolled yourself up in a blanket burrito to escape the dark amiss of the night (more or less your own thoughts), you began to lull yourself into a soft sleep before your roommate, Alex, rudely barged into your room with little concern for your sleep.. “What happened? Why did you leave with the officers? Everyone’s talking about it you know, you’re on everyone’s snapchat story and your clothes really aren’t that flattering.” “A student got attacked and I was the only kind-of witness. The officers wanted to do some further questioning and how many times must I tell you its the uniform.” She sighed in relief before crushing you with a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.” You suffocated under her grasp but you knew better than to try to fight Alex. She left the room to allow you to sleep but not before rambling about how she assumed you had turned into a rogue murderer.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

M&M’s

Summary: Need a tutor? Well, you’ve come to the right school, we have just the one for you. And he’s attractive too. 

Do or Not Series

Fluff 

Word Count: 2,346

Hongseok X Reader

Of all my time at school, I never thought I would need tutoring. I was an A+ student when I started failing my classes. My grades were in the trash, and I had no idea how to improve or even raise them. How do you even study? Why is college structured like this? UGH! So now here I am sitting in the Dean’s office listening to them preach about how I need to learn from this person to pass. That they won’t hold it against me if I pass because of this tutor. All I have to do is pass the exams, and if I pass. I will move up to the Sophomore year. How am I supposed to pass a class that I’m not participating? And who is this person they are setting me up with? As if to answer my question, they say, “He should be here any moment.” 

Like on queue, the door opens to reveal a rather attractive guy. They expect me to be able to study next to him? Oh god, I am so screwed, even worse than I was before. Okay, (Y/n), put your game face on and act like he does not affect you. “This is your tutor, Hongseok, and Hongseok this is (Y/n). I think you two will do well together.” We exchange a polite ‘hello’. Then the Dean tells him what the expectations are for the both of us. And I cannot help but feel my anxiety spike at each time he mentions ‘study’, ‘quiz’, and ‘pass’. What happened to cruising through school? Why is it no longer easy to pass? What did I miss when I was younger?

I was missing the old school structure. That I was memorizing what they said to forget it later. Because back then, as long as I knew the basics, I could pass. It wasn't like those classes were hard either. They repeated the same things over and over. So it was easy to remember, Hongseok had explained to me at our first meeting in the library. He wanted to know why I was failing and what made me remember best. I shrugged and said, 'probably repetition and listening' I wasn't sure, but that was the best guess I had. I never thought of ways to study because I never needed to beforehand. He grinned, “I know you wouldn’t believe it, but my first year here, I didn’t study. I didn’t know how or what worked for me or how I even learned. It took me to the last semester to realize what it was. Once it clicked, it was too late, and I barely passed my exams. To make up for me failing everything else, they asked me to tutor someone.” While I couldn’t believe my ears, something in my gut told me he wasn’t lying. Thus I decided that he was my best bet to make it into my sophomore year. 

The following Wednesday, we are stuck inside the library again. When we get settled in our seats, he pulls out two packages of m&m’s. “What are those for?” I ask, and he shrugs and says, “You’ll see.” I pull out my books, a pencil, and a notebook. I’m worried he will look down on me for not having any past homework or past tests. But I threw them all out in exhaustion and frustration. I couldn’t deal with that massive amount of failure. But rather than saying anything, he pulls out some flashcards and a calculator. “Let’s start with math.” 

Every time I got a question right, he gave me an m&m. My stomach growled at me every time I would get something wrong and lose out on an m&m. Not that I couldn’t reach in and get one, but the m&m's are rewards for whenever I get something right. Plus, he would give me his charming smile every time I got something correct, so I strived to get them correct. 

It wasn’t until we finished math and science and we were walking out together. That I noticed, he was catering to the way I learned. Repeating steps with me or asking me the questions out loud and going through the steps with me. Whether it be an example or how to fix my mistakes, my heart skips a beat as he asks to walk me home. 

"So, do you like university other than this?" I shrug, "It could be better, but generally I like it. Everyone I met is kind, like my roommates Changgu and Yanan. Like you're kind and sweet, I wanna thank you for helping me out." He grins, "You're helping me out too. I don't think either of us wishes to repeat Freshman year." I laugh and agree, "What about you? Do you like it here?" He shrugs, "It's okay. I don't have a roommate, but I have quite a few friends. So it helps, plus once you know how to study, it makes it so much easier." I laugh, "Yeah,... if I ever get to that point." When we reach my dormitory I tell him, "This is my stop." As I head inside, he yells, “I’ll see you this Sunday for History and [Subject].” I yell back my agreement and walk up the stairs to my room. I thought this would drag and not want to show up. But he makes me look forward to studying with him. Throwing my finished m&m bag away, I walk to my dorm with a proud smile on my face. 

Like clockwork every Wednesday and Sunday, I spend the whole afternoon studying. And he would ask me to study for little quizzes that he would give me on Thursdays. They are over everything we have ever been over together. With each test I passed, my confidence grew, and so did my feelings. 

Out of all the days that I spend with him, Thursdays have to be the hardest. With each test, I take the harder they become. I feel like my soul almost leaves my body every time he grades them. How his face turns up in cute ways, trying to figure out my process. Or when I get something right, he sends me a beautiful smile or his pout when I miss a question. His faces make my heart flutter while my stomach wants to throw up from fear of failure. Between the two, I can never seem to stomach Thursdays. 

While I have learned my study pattern, I still have to pass this course with him or I fail. While I’m taking a quiz, three Thursdays before my exam, he tells me. “I can already tell you that you are going to succeed with flying colors. So if you fail this quiz, take it with a grain of salt. You have to fail sometimes to succeed.” The first page was easy I knew all the answers without a problem. I rushed through them, and the next page was a little harder. When I got to the eighth page, I was starting to question whether I was studying. What does the eighth number of pi have anything to do with this course? I wish to cry as I take my best guess, which is all I can do when I reach the tenth page. I sigh in relief, it’s the last page it can’t be that hard, can it? Oh, yes, yes it can. “If you take the 4th number of the last answer. [Which I am positive I did not get right, considering that I only gave a two-digit answer to the last question]. Exponentially expand it by twenty-two. What is the number you get?” And that is the first part of the ten parted question. My brain craves a nap and a family-size bag of m&m’s. 

By the time I finish the last page, I am running on one brain cell. That is running around, throwing all the files in my brain into a shredder, and giving up. How did I not know a single answer after the third page? His face is in a pout after the second page, and my heart breaks. I don’t want him to disappoint him. I should study harder to make him proud of me. I groan internally, this is going worse than I expected. “Out of thirty questions, you got seven right!” He says in a cheery tone, and my heart falls out of my body, and my soul has ascended. 

“Remember what I said when you started taking the test?” I rack my brain for answers and find nothing. I shake my head 'no', and he pouts, “Aw,... Well, I said take it with a grain of salt. Maybe some quizzes are made impossible.” My jaw drops, “You did that on purpose--!” He shrugs, “Did I?” He makes me rethink what I said, and I pout and cross my arms over my chest. He hands me a pack of m&m’s, “Maybe study harder.” He winks, and I push him to the side when we get up to leave the building. “You know you passed the hardest question on the quiz, right?” My eyes nearly pop out of my head, “What?” He grins, “None of your work made sense, but in the end, you answered four on the last question, and that was the right answer.” I smile, “Sometimes taking your best guess works. Also, four happens to be the professor's favorite number, so if you aren’t sure, guess that.” My jaw drops open again as he ruffles my hair, “You did pretty well, (Y/n).” I brighten at his words and hug him. “I promise to study hard! Two more quizzes before the final test!” He laughs and hugs me back telling me, “You got this!” 

--

It wasn’t until the last study session that I realized how much I would miss Hongseok’s presence. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and when I got to my room, I was bawling. I wanted to see him more. I wanted to be around him and get to know him more. It took me a few moments, but I realized I fell for my tutor. How could I not? When I had a tutor like Hongseok,... Based on all calculations, I have a crush on him. I wonder if he likes me back, but there is only one way to know. Do I have enough courage for that? I’m not sure. I sigh and wipe my tears, saving them for a less important day. I need to study and pass these four exams. 

--

I spend hours studying for tomorrow, although I know my study method. It did not make studying any less boring. I missed Hongseok, who would crack a joke or grab us a snack. He made this so much easier studying five hours with him felt like two. Ugh, now five hours of studying feels like fifteen. At the sixth hour, I call it a day and pull the covers over my head, and dream of failing the exams. 

When my alarm clock finally rings, I’m happy to be up and away from those horrid dreams. With a brave face, I get ready for my exam day. I check my phone and see it’s Hongseok. He texted me, “Good luck on your exams! Fighting! You got this!” I smile and text him back, ‘thank you'. I got this, I keep reiterating to myself, but I can’t help but hear the doubtful voice in the back of my head. I am taking all my exams in one instance. So that means five hours of taking four different tests. While I know all the study sessions were preparing me for this moment, I want it to be over and done with already. 

--

Of course, none of the tests were easy they each pulled at my wit's end. I sit there for another thirty minutes waiting for them to grade my tests. Preparing myself for the worst news, I think about Hongseok’s encouragement. If he thinks I’ll pass, maybe he’s right. If it wasn’t just my grades on the line, I wouldn’t care as much. But when it comes to Hongseok, my heart is grasping at the hope that I made it above passing.

The professor looks up at me as I turn a page in my book. I set it down with a bookmark. They smile at me, “Your lowest is an 87,” I gulp, no way, “Your highest is a 99.” My brain is no longer processing words as I rush out of my seat to see my results. “Congratulations, (Y/n). You passed with flying colors.” I smile and shake their hand, thanking them, and skip out of the building. I passed. I really passed! Is this real? I'm not dreaming again, right? I pinch myself and let out a small ‘ouch’ definitely real. I skip out of the building and see someone wearing a blue sweatshirt sitting on the fountain. As I come up closer, I recognize them as Hongseok. I run up to him and hug him. He whispers, “Did you pass?” And I shake my head 'yes'. He runs his hands through my hair, “I knew you would! I’m so proud of you.” Hearing him say that my heart pounds, “Um, Hongseok,...” I pull away from him a bit, my arms still wrapped around him. He nods for me to continue, “Would you maybe,... possibly want to go on a date with me?” He smiles, “I was gonna ask you that!” We both laugh as he hands me a family-size pack of m&m's for us to share. We head over to my dorm, and that is the start of our new beginning. 

While we still study together, you can find us lying on the floor while watching the tv and throwing m&m's at each other. Making different kinds of foods together, making an even bigger mess in the kitchen. So yeah, if given the opportunity, I would fail my classes all over again. If it meant I got to meet Hongseok.

[fyeah-bangtan7]

SUGA “I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music”

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music.

How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible.

How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities.

How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing? Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery.

You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

What movies did you watch? SUGA: I watched ‘Samjin Company English Class’ as it happened to be on IPTV, and now I have ‘Tenet’ on my list. ‘Parasite’ was the last movie I saw at a cinema. As the social distancing measures became stricter, I haven’t been going outside, except going to the hospital. I even eat at home. I'm also watching a lot of TV nowadays. Watching music shows like ‘Sing Again’, ‘Folk Us’, and ‘Show Me The Money 9’ made me think of what I should do in the upcoming days. Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all. What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe. Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me. As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords. It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

This is actually before you started playing the guitar, but I found ‘Telepathy’ in BE very interesting. The varying melodic progressions between hooks for each member made me wonder if you wrote the melody intuitively for each part. SUGA: I tried a melody for the first time this year (2020), and as I started knowing the fun of music, it opened a lot of new doors for me. So it was kind of easy working on it. I just played a beat and wrote from the beginning until the end. Done. I wrote it in just 30 minutes. The song almost wrote itself. The trends of pop and hip-hop these days cross boundaries between vocals and rap. I like this trend. When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap. In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles. In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

It seems you achieved almost everything that you wanted in BE. SUGA: I think it took less than a week to make my part in the album. After having written one or two melodies for ‘Life Goes On’, I wrote a version complete with rap, and liked it that I even worked on a separate arrangement and lyrics. Rather than pondering over the ways that might work, I choose to simply play the music and write. Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects. What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things. In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky. ‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

In what aspect haven't you changed much? SUGA: Before the social distancing measures got stricter, I talked with the photographer for BE, whom I had met four years ago. The photographer was surprised that we hadn’t changed much after all the success, even though he had assumed we’d be very different. I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?” Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited. In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished. Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

What kind of music do you think you’ll be engaged in in the future? SUGA: I was greatly motivated when I saw the concert of Na Hoon-a last Chuseok . I wondered how many musicians would actually be able perform and write music for so long like he has. At that moment, it occurred to be that ‘I want to be like him’. He has passion and desire, and most of all, he is a superstar. A few years ago, I took my parents to a Na Hoon-a concert, and when they watched the performance last Chuseok, they said it was way less impressive to see him perform through the TV. (Laughs) That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come. The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

[archived-gtronpa-account]

you mind writing anything with shuichi and kokichi? i just love how you write them iejfjdkdij

Tysm bby 🥺🥺 I too love writing those losers pfpfpfpf

(sorry this took so long btw!! at this point ur prolly thinking your ask got eaten by tumblr bsbsbsbs writer's block just hit me HARD)

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Word count: 2800

Summary: The participants of the killing game stay away from Kokichi, and big villain Kokichi antagonizes himself. Meanwhile, Shuichi just wants to have a talk.

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After Monokuma's new motive, everyone agreed that Kokichi had to be the mastermind. It didn't help that even the boy himself pushed the idea on to his classmates. Shuichi didn't buy into the obvious lie.

The motive put Kokichi at a severe disadvantage; he couldn't access the main school building, the dorms— really, he couldn't get inside any building. Not only that, but he was much easier to spy on and sneak up to. Still, Shuichi could see why it was so easy for his peers to think of Kokichi as the villain hiding among them; on surface level, it would make sense for the mastermind to put himself in a position of power to strike fear and force the killing game to start, and somehow making himself grow taller than every building overnight seemed like a good way to do that.

Shuichi's footsteps were slow with reluctance as he walked through the courtyard. Kaito and Maki wouldn't let him go talk to Kokichi if they knew— at least not alone, but they didn't have to know nor find out. The three of them had already separated long ago after they were done with training, and come to think of it, he hadn't met anyone else wandering out on his way, besides Ryoma who hung around the dorms. He was glad no one would question him, but nervous at the idea of having little to no witness should something happen that night.

Kokichi was thankfully awake, sitting behind the main building and staring hard at his checkered scarf that had for some reason been laid out on the ground. Shuichi felt even more hesitant to break whatever odd thing was going on. All of a sudden, he remembered why he was so nervous; Kokichi looked much, much more intimidating when he could grab anyone in a fist and dangle them twenty feet above ground. Shuichi decided he could try to talk to him another time, and spun on his heels to retreat when a voice made him freeze on the spot.

"My beloved detective! I was just thinking about you~"

When said detective looked over his shoulder, he found a giant Kokichi peering down at him with a radiant smile, and he somehow found himself regretting both his decision to come and to leave.

"Kokichi, ah… Wh-what were you thinking?"His hand unconsciously reached for the hat on his head to pull it further down, and he didn't miss how Kokichi's eyes flickered to the hat and reflected something that vanished too fast for Shuichi to read into.

"Nothing, nothing! Just thinking that you're basically my best target to kill," almost too easily, his smile stretched into a familiar leer, "An investigation without our dearest, coolest detective just wouldn't go the same. Besides, no one could suspect me of killing my beloved, so you're my ticket to get out of this hell school! Ah, or maybe I could bury your dead body so that there would be no body discovery and no class trial, only the pain and despair of loosing yet another classmate. How's that sound?"

What the— that was harsh, and quick, almost instantaneous. Kokichi was definitely on edge, all the more reasons not to talk to him. Still…"Please don't joke about that," Shuichi pulled his hat further down, silently apologizing to Kaede for still being this weak after the death of so many of his friends. He didn't dare look up to the large face of the evil leader.

A beat passed, then another, and when nothing more happened and the boy thought nothing more would happen and he would better leave already, "… Sheesh, fine. I'm sorry you're so sensitive, Shuichi."

"A-ah," the sudden mood swing caught him off guard. Kokichi's voice had fallen much lower and quieter than its usual childish high pitch. "It's fine." He still didn't dare look up, instead focusing his gaze on the scarf that laid on the ground. "I… What were you doing?"

"Oh, this? Nothing, really, just lil' old me playing games with lil' old myself. Hey, maybe I won't kill Saihara if he beats me at a game of chess!" Without looking up, he could feel the giant boy shift and lean above him and saw his shadow stretch until it engulfed him.

"Wha- I didn't- I only wanted to talk a bit."

"Wha-? Ah? I did-didn't- I only want to play a game. So really, it's your choice."

There was really no arguing with him. Maybe Shuichi could get him to talk if he accepted to play with him for a bit. "Alright, but," he stepped closer up, inspecting the scarf. It had been folded into a sixty four squares chessboard, but, "How are we playing without pieces?"

"You just have to imagine real hard that they're there, and suddenly you can see them right in front of you! I also hope you know the algebraic notation, since we'll be needing it." Shuichi tried to ignore the unnerving feeling of the ground faintly shaking under his feet as Kokichi shifted and fidgeted on his spot like an overly excited child.

"I think I do, but doesn't this sounds a little too hard?"

"Geez, Shuichi, I didn't think you of all people would have trouble imagining what's not there. You look like the kid in middle school who only talked to his imaginary friends. Besides, games are always more fun on hard mode anyway." Shuichi sighed and resigned himself to the fact that he was about to waste precious sleep hours playing an impossible game of chess with a giant clown. He stepped closer still and positioned himself in front of the makeshift gameboard, then glanced up to Kokichi. Instead of the mocking smirk he'd expected, he was only met with a big, almost amused grin and eyes sparkling with excitement. Shuichi looked down again, some of the previous tension leaving his body. "Alright, I'll start, since black fits your aesthetic better. E-four."

And if the 'game' itself wasn't already hard enough, Shuichi couldn't, for the life of it, stay focused with how fidgety Kokichi was being. His fingers hammered down on the ground incessantly and his head rocked left and right the same way Angie's would, both motions sending faint vibrations in the ground under Shuichi's feet. He didn't get a break either when it was the others turn to play, since he'd state his next move without missing a beat— almost as if he'd already known what Shuichi would do. It was uncanny yet interesting to get an insight on how the supreme leader's brain worked, only it would have been better if it had happened before the weird growth motive, when Shuichi didn't have to fear he'd get snatched up in the air at any given moment.

Sometime in the next hour, he ended up taking his hat off to help him focus and get a clearer look at the gameboard; gameboard which he stood in the middle of, in an attempt to help him keep track of the pieces' placement. He frowned, spun around and looked left and right as he tried to remember where he'd left his rook. So focused and lost in the game, he failed to notice when his foot got caught in the fabric; on the next step he took, he fell back on his back. Startled and faces reddening, he fumbled to get back on his feet, when a large face came in his view and stopped him in his track.

"Nishishi~ Shuichi, you're really funny being like this." An encore of the insect incident; Kokichi's upside-down face loomed over him, so close he could faintly feel his warm breath ruffling his hair. Shuichi instinctively reached for a hat that wasn't there, before shuffling his hand back down in shame. He wished it had been there for reassurence, but ultimately decided it was for the best that he couldn't hide behind it. He couldn't be anything but intimidated by Kokichi when he towered over him like that and could so easily do so much, but he didn't want to be scared when he knew that Kokichi, despite all the awful things he was (and he was a lot of awful things) wouldn't go far with his games and wouldn't use his new stature to his advantage.

"It's…" he took a second to breath, regain his composure and look the giant supreme leader in the eyes, "It's hard to remember how the board is set after every move," he got up and brushed himself off. Why can you do it so easily? He wouldn't expect a serious answer to that, so he kept the question to himself.

"Oh hush, this is the only excuse you got to justify losing so badly?" He leaned away and smirked, "I could do you a favor and capture a couple more of your pieces, hmm? Or maybe, here," out of the corner of his eyes, Shuichi saw a large hand come his way, and all the courage he'd been building up for so long all but melted away as his eyes shut tight and stumbled several steps back, once again getting his foot caught in fabric and falling back on his butt. Atua help him, at that point, he only wished the fabric would swallow him whole so he wouldn't embarrass himself again.

He kept his eyes closed tight and waited, but when there was no pressure around himself he cracked an eye open and saw, to his relief, the hand hanging a few feet away from him. The relief was quickly replaced with shame, and he felt a little stupid for having gotten scared so easily after having put so much faith in Kokichi. From above, he heard the boy groan and say, "Relax Max, I said I wouldn't kill you until we're done with this game," with a tinge of annoyance. Fear lingered in Shuichi's mind when he saw the hand approaching him once again, but this time he managed to stand his ground when fingers slipped behind his back and easily scooped him up in an open palm.

In the next second, he was lifted and dropped off in one swift movement, leaving him dizzy and slightly sickened. He clutched on to whatever his hands found first, and took a moment to process his position on Kokichi's shoulder, and another moment to answer him when he said, "Better? Now you can't come whining that you can't see the board clearly."

"Yeah…" he muttered, still busy trying to find his balance. He found his hand balled up in a fist around a lone lock of purple hair, so he moved closer still until he was huddled against Kokichi's neck, and he hoped the other boy wouldn't hear his heart pounding with unease.

They were able to carry out the game for a while longer. At some point, Kokichi's hand ended up on his lap, and Shuichi, despite his anxiety spiking up at the gesture, stayed quiet about it, deciding to accept the extra bit of safety. He took it as a sign that Kokichi, too, was comfortable enough, so he decided to try to strike up the conversation he'd wanted to have.

"Are you sure you're not cheating ?" Maybe not the best way to start some small talk, but the first to come to mind when he was loosing more and more of his important imaginary pieces with every turn and he was sure Kokichi was somehow cheating.

"Who? M-Me?" Kokichi sniffled, and his shoulder jolted with a faked sob, leaving Shuichi to clutch onto the large hand on his lap like a lifeline. "I can't believe my beloved would accuse me of such- such a nefarious deed! Shuichi, you really broke my heart here."

Then all at once, his voice switched from 'heartbroken' back to nonchalant when he said, "Besides wouldn't you except the mastermind of this thrilling game of murder and betrayal to be good at some kids' strategy games? You know, I lied about my real talent, I'm actually the ultimate chess master…"

"You have poor taste in motives if you're really behind this killing game." Shuichi cut him off before he could drift away from the subject. A perfect opportunity not to waste. "I mean, this is more disadvantageous to you than anything. You can't access any building, nor can you hide anywhere if you need to be discreet for your secret evil plans. And if you were really the mastermind, you wouldn't want to single yourself out and leave our classmates feeling safe and secure…"

More and more inconsistencies came to his mind as he presented his deductions, and Kokichi listened, silent and unmoving. "I think… I think the reason behind this motive is for the mastermind to push our classmates away from you and to," he bit his lip and prepared himself to present yet another truth he didn't want to believe, "To force you to kill someone. The school can't accommodate for you for more than a few days at most, so unless the motive's effect is reversed soon…" he left the end unsaid.

Kokichi remained silent and still, so much so that Shuichi was almost tempted to reach out to his neck and check for a pulse, when he settled for, "Maan, Shuichi, you really are naive. You really thought this was all there was to this motive?" The hand on his lap slid off, and Kokichi leaned back against the wall behind him in an viciously abrupt movement that made Shuichi slip and almost fall, then he went on without a pause, "You know, your logic doesn't apply to every situation, mister detective. The only reason I care about is my own entertainment, simple as that. And if I get bored, I can reverse the motive whenever I want."

Shuichi couldn't see his face from his angle, but he could imagine the leer easily plastered on it, like a mask worn a hundred times. "Wouldn't you be breaking your own rules then? And admitting defeat to the participants of the game?"

The debate that ensued made Shuichi feel like he was back on trial grounds. Kokichi shot him arguments to prove he was mastermind. They were full of contradictions, half-hearted and shaky as a card castle in the middle of a storm, and too easily, his truth cut through the other's words like a bullet. Kokichi sounded bored, like he'd prefer keeping his lie true but wouldn't mind an outcome in which Shuichi busted him. And Shuichi wanted that, to see through Kokichi's lies, to get a chance to understand why he was so hellbent on making a villain out of himself when he so obviously worked to stop the killing game just like his classmates, he wanted to reach out to him and pull him out of his self-inflicted loneliness and work together with him to save their friends, if only he would take his hand.

Their debate came to a halt when a crash was heard from Miu's lab. Shuichi distinctly felt Kokichi stiffen and tense up at the sound. He brought a hand back up to his smaller classmate and wrapped it around him in a loose fist, before he got up and made his way to the inventor's lab in quiet, quick steps. There, Shuichi was lowered back on solid ground and rushed in the lab.

His knees almost gave out, his mouth hung open in a silent scream. Ryoma's body lay in the middle of the room in a pool of his own blood. Lifeless eyes stared at the detective, and the detective stared back. Shuichi felt his throat constrict, his vision swimming, he clutched his chest and tore his eyes away from the scene. He had let another one of his friends die, he would soon have to investigate the crime, to doom the killer among them by his own hands.

"Shit," he turned around, and there was Kokichi peering in the lab and their classmate's body with a frown. It vanished as quick as it had come and was replaced by a blank face with a click of his tongue. "Well then, Shuichi, I guess I'll leave you here to do your detective work while I go call the others, hmm?" And he got up without waiting for an answer. Before he left, Shuichi heard him mutter, "I hope the next motive doesn't make me really tiny or something."

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Gosh this took so long yet I still feel it's so bad. Hope I was at least able to quench some of your thirst for saiou bae

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: This is one of my favourite chapters uwu -Danny

Words: 4,172

Series’ Masterlist

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Listen to: ‘I Wanna Be OK’ -by Caleb James

Chapter Twenty-Five: Reaching Out.

She never would've thought that one of Pansy's friends was... decent. 

Yes, Erick had some pretty nasty friends, but he was lovely, however, he'd never considered them close. Daphne was different, she didn't have a problem with her friends, but she had a restless curiosity and a set of very good eyes, same eyes that helped her realize Erick was acting strange.

"She's been following me for months," Erick scowled at the girl. "I didn't know it was her, but I was careful not to do anything suspicious as soon as I felt it... I'm used to being alone, Daphne, which means I can tell when I'm not."

"Didn't hurt to try," Daphne shrugged, sitting down. "You can stop staring at me like that, I'm not here to kill you."

"What do you want?"

"I already asked her," Erick sat down next to the girl and gestured for Mel to sit in front of them. "I know you don't like her, but if you trust me then you'll listen to what she has to say."

Mel hesitated, if this would've happened a year ago she would've agreed right away, there was nothing to lose and one more friend to gain, but now it wasn't just some silly study sessions to learn about the muggle world, it was the Order, secrets plans to win a war that was yet to start...

"Erick has explained to me that you and Granger taught him a lot about the muggle world and that you've also done a few things off-record... I want to learn, I don't care whether if You-Know-Who's back or not, but I care about myself and my sister. I want to be prepared if it turns out you're not crazy."

"I don't understand," Mel sat down. "You believe us?"

"I don't know what to believe," Daphne made a face. "I know that if the Ministry sent Umbridge here they must see Dumbledore as a real threat, and that's something."

"Why asking me, though?"

"I would rather get my information from someone who's lived around muggles instead of that nonsense pureblood families say all the time. They heard it from their parents, and the parents heard it from their parents... I'm not excited about spending time with you and Granger," She sneered. "But I don't have a choice."

"How do I know you're not trying to trick us?"

Daphne raised a brow in amusement. 

"Why do you need to trust me to have a silly study session from time to time?"

"Answer the question, Daphne," Erick pressed.

The girl turned to look at him, she examined his and Mel's face and her interest increased.

"What are really doing here?"

"Listen, you either answer me, or we're done," Mel insisted. "I have things to—"

"Umbridge wants to make her own little team of rats," Daphne said. "Pansy was telling us about it yesterday, she said Umbridge was writing to the Minister the other day after class, and that she managed to read a bit — said it was something about recruiting students to be her eyes and ears."

"So?" 

"I could join along with Erick and we could help you. I know you and your friends are up to something, you've been too friendly with students from other houses and that didn't use to happen, we can trick Umbridge so she follows the wrong clues."

Mel couldn't help but think about Kingsley and Tonks helping the Order by lying about Sirius' whereabouts, it was tempting. Hadn't she promised to find a way to beat Umbridge in her own game? Maybe this was it. Umbridge would never suspect two of the best Slytherins being the ones passing information to Mel. 

"If that's true," She started carefully. "Then I'd consider teaching you, if you promise to keep your mouth shut."

"Okay," Daphne stood up. "We have a deal?"

Mel faced the girl in front of her, she still couldn't believe this was happening.

"Greengrass, if this is a trick... you'll regret it."

"I know."

She told Hermione about it because throwing Daphne into the mix was a dangerous move. She figured Harry would be okay since it really didn't have to do with him and what they were doing, he would get anxious no doubt, but he would understand. 

Since she had promised to help him with Occlumency, Mel decided to inform him about it during their first study session. Harry was just as confused as her.

"What is it about you," He asked in incredulity, "that attracts Slytherins so much?"

"Dunno," Mel smiled. "Maybe it's, you know, that I don't judge the book by its cover?"

"Shut up," Harry snorted. "I've never seen you pick a book with an ugly cover. Don't lie to me."

"Are you admitting that I was right, though? Slytherins and Gryffindors can get along."

"Have your first meeting with two Slytherins at once," He raised a brow. "Then we'll talk."

It was a known fact that Umbridge was starting to lose it, with every new decree she was stepping further into a higher position, making her even more dislikeable than before. It was also known, that there was a war going on between the woman and Mel Dumbledore.

She was, to say it simply, mayhem. Mel hung a target on those bullies that would openly talk against the muggle-borns, making their lives a living hell -with the twins' help, obviously- and the best part was that Umbridge was unable to catch her every single time.

Umbridge was a threat to the school, she could feel her breathing on her neck. The funny thing was that even though Umbridge considered her the biggest issue on her list, she was underestimating Mel at an abysmal level.

For instance, the woman couldn't phantom the plausibility of Mel doing wandless magic, even knowing she was a Dumbledore, a gifted one at that, Umbridge's blind trust in Fudge seemed to weigh more on her mind than anything else.

Being the student defending the muggle-borns honour regardless of their house gave her the protection she'd been lacking for years. The witnesses would blatantly deny her participation in any incidents, it didn't matter if Umbridge threatened them with detention, Mel had created such a strong community that it was now acting without her having to move a finger. 

While Harry was doing everything in his power to teach what the woman was censoring in her classes, Mel kept destroying every false fear Umbridge had been placing inside the students' heads; but the work wasn't done after the first week, it had to be constant and she had to be careful about the battles she'd pick. 

Her lessons with Dumbledore were a great help for that, learning how to clear her mind and compartmentalize her emotions turned out to be brilliant for her plans. She was unstoppable.

Unfortunately, there was a consequence to this: Mel was turning into a prepotent git. She'd started to publicly mess with the bullies, and in some cases, students that were younger than her. One afternoon, Erick caught her while hexing a thirteen-year-old.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He hissed at her. "You have no right to punish him — You can't allow this to get over your head!"

"Oh, it's way over my head by now," Mel snorted. "I spent four years trying to convince everyone that I was worthy — four bloody years where I got nothing in return. I'm done with that, I'll let it get over my head as much as I want. I deserve it. I deserve the attention and I deserve the bloody power. Umbridge is nothing compared to me."

"You forget you're not the ruler of the school — Even if others treat you like it," He warned her.

"Then stop me," She smiled innocently, though her tone was definitely mocking. "You'll have a hard time trying, Prince."

Erick straightened in his place and spoke out loud:

"Detention, Miss Dumbledore. You'll report to Professor McGonagall tonight — Oh! And thirty points from Gryffindor will be taken away."

Mel's eyes flashed dangerously. "You can't do that."

Erick leaned closer. 

"Then stop me," He looked around the hall and yelled. "What are you looking at? Go to class!"

Most of the students glared at the boy and mumbled about taking care of him later, but Erick didn't care, after all, he'd never been afraid of her, let alone of her admirers.

Neville had found his motivation in the shape of Bellatrix Lestrange. There was something dark but certain in the way he would practice, and there was something pleasant but worrying about the fact that he'd become the best student.

By the end of January, after a long talk with Erick, Harry, Hermione and Ron, Mel decided to mention the D.A. to Daphne. It wasn't surprising at all when she decided to join.

Mel was working at the speed of light: Quidditch practice, O.W.L.s lessons and Dumbledore's along with her little vigilante acts. She was missing meals several times a week, something that her friends were noticing, which caused the sudden appearance of snacks in her bag and pockets.

She was so enraptured on herself that she couldn't even feel Harry's discomfort. She knew he was having a hard time thanks to their weekly Occlumency sessions, he still couldn't clear his head, and although she would try her best she would stop at the slightest hint of an argument about to burst between them. She didn't have the time to fight.

The day finally arrived when Daphne would have her very first D.A. meeting. She was welcomed with open arms, and it wasn't because of Mel's warnings, the students were genuinely excited about having a Slytherin there, and Mel couldn't help but share their sentiment.

She woke up on the morning of Valentine's day having no clue that it was Valentine's day. She had fallen asleep right after a soothing warm bath, her hair turned all frizzy overnight and it hadn't dried completely, so she was sort of grumpy.

An owl landed in front of Hermione during breakfast, holding out a letter for her. Thinking it was maybe Krum's reply Mel didn't give much thought to it while she ate, Ron sat down beside her and nudge her side.

"You're okay?"

"Hmm?" Mel asked, shoving a spoonful of cereal in her mouth. 

"I thought you'd be bouncing off the walls today, aren't you excited?" 

Mel blinked, swallowing her food and frowning slightly. 

"About what?"

Ron stared at her. 

"Your date?"

The girl dropped her spoon.

"It's Valentine's day?!"

"Are you sure you're sleeping enough?" He asked worryingly. 

"Mum's birthday!" She said in horror. "I have to send her a present — I have to hurry —"

"About time!" Hermione said abruptly. "If it hadn't come today..." 

"What's that?" asked Mel anxiously. 

"Listen, guys," Hermione looked up at her and Harry. "This is really important... Do you think you could meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"

"Well... I dunno," Harry shrugged. "Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her. We never said what we were going to do." 

"Fred wouldn't mind about me leaving early," Mel responded. "Why?"

"Well, Harry, bring her along if you must," said Hermione with impatience. "But will you come?"

"Well... all right, but why?"

"I haven't got time to tell you now, I've got to answer this quickly —" Hermione left right away.

 "You know what? I reckon I hate it when she does that too," Mel groaned.

"Are you coming?" Harry asked Ron, he shook his head miserably.

"I can't come into Hogsmeade at all, Angelina wants a full day's training. Like it's going to help — we're the worst team I've ever seen." 

"How come you're not staying?" Harry asked her.

"I trained yesterday with Jack so I could go to Hogsmeade with Fred," Mel said, suddenly remembering why she was so tired. "I can't believe I woke up and didn't remember! I've been planning this for days..."

"Mel's alright," Ron sulked. "She's got a good broom and her aim is decent, but we're still struggling... I dunno why Angelina won't just let me resign..."

"It's because you're good when you're on form, that's why," said Harry with exasperation, then he turned to Mel. "And you should consider taking a time off, you can go a week without being Umbridge's nightmare."

"You're sounding like Hermione," Mel said, gathering her hair in a ponytail to get it out of the way. "I got this, okay?"

"Lady!" Fred happily approached. "Ready for the best day of your life?"

"You really need to be humbled," Mel replied, pushing her hair back and standing up, waving goodbye to the boys as she left the Great Hall with Fred. 

"You're one to talk, your majesty," Fred mocked.

"Can we go to the owlery first? I forgot to send Mum's present..."

"George and I sent it last Wednesday!" 

"Why are you sending presents to my mum?" She frowned

"Because we like her," Fred raised a brow, "And I should be nice to my mother-in-law, shouldn't I? — Oof!"

"You're coming, or not?" Mel said.   

"Yeah, sure — Merlin, you're getting stronger..." He rubbed his arm. "All that practice is paying off..."

"Hermione wants to meet in the three broomsticks later on the day," She ignored his comment. "You could come with me but you don't have to..."

Fred shrugged. 

"George, Lee and I were planning to buy stuff anyway," He smirked. "We've run out of almost everything. You really are taking this war against Umbridge quite seriously, aren't you?"

"Well, Sirius did ask me to have fun," She grinned.

"You think it's a good idea to visit Madam Puddifoot's shop?" He asked loudly as they ran away from the rain.

"Oh god, no," Mel grimaced. "That place reminds me of Umbridge's office, so cheesy..."

"You used to like cheesy!" He shook his head. "Just thought I should mention it, that's where the couples go..."

"We shouldn't go anywhere we don't like," Mel responded. "I mean, not that we're following rules anyway..."

"Not that we're a real couple either," Fred snorted.

The whole day had been like any other, the only difference being that it was just the two of them, and they were having fun. Although maybe there was one thing she'd been trying to ignore for a while.

Things were moving forward at an alarming speed in other aspects of her life: Harry and she still weren't the friends they used to be and she certainly didn't feel comfortable enough to talk about her love life in front of him, but it was time to talk about it with someone, it was driving her mad.

Fred was extrovert and funny, but he knew when Mel needed to have a serious conversation and how to support her. Mel could stop him from doing really wild things, she was still the only girl the twins listened to. They had lots of fun together... but they weren't in love.

She'd expected to fall for Fred, even if she was the first to claim it was out of the question. Part of her secretly hoped for the day when she would look into his eyes and realize she was head over heels, but that moment was yet to arrive. 

Maybe she could talk about it with Erick, though they had promised not to bring up the romantic side of their lives during their study sessions because it was making Erick rather grumpy lately, and she didn't want to fight with him. Either way, Mel needed to talk about her situation with Fred soon. She knew this whole thing didn't have a future, and she was done pretending.

"You're awfully quiet," Fred mentioned as they walked into the three broomsticks, emptying his pockets of the wrappers of sweets they had shared during the day. "Something on your mind?"

"No," She lied. "Just... I'm comfortable with my life right now, you know?"

If she could, she'd keep this situation going for the rest of her school years, but it wasn't fair to Fred and it wasn't fair to her either. Nevertheless, there would be better days to bring that up than on Valentine's day.

"Glad to hear you're the happiest girl on earth since you kissed me," He joked.

"That's debatable."

"Don't ruin our moment, Lady."

"Anyway..." She grinned. "Thank you for the date, I'll see you around..."

"No problem," Fred winked. "If you end your thing with Hermione before it's time to go back, feel free to join us."

"Alright," She nodded. 

When Fred left, she ran into the strangest scene she'd ever seen in her life: 

Hermione, Luna, Harry and Rita Skeeter, all seated at the same table. Mel wondered if maybe she was dreaming, but once she was standing right in front of the group, she realized not even her could come up with such a strange thing.

"This is by far the weirdest view of the day, and I walked past Madam Puddifoot's a few minutes ago," She said jokingly. 

"Where's Fred?" Hermione asked her. 

"Had plans with George and Lee, didn't want to hold him back since I didn't know how long this would take... And it looks like it's going to take a while."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, but he didn't sound sorry at all. 

"Doesn't matter," Mel shrugged, untying her hair and feeling it splash freezing cold water on her back. "Merlin, I need a haircut..."

She sat down between Harry and Hermione and smiled at the woman in front of her. 

"Rita," She greeted. "You look awful."

"Dumbledore girl," Skeeter said in the same tone. "Are those dark circles under your eyes meant to match your mental state?"

"Nah, I wear them for fun," Mel raised her eyebrows. "Whenever I feel like looking crazy I hex people, would you like to be my victim for the day?"

"That's enough," Hermione scolded them. "We're not here to have a go at each other."

"Why are we here, then?"

"Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived," said Rita. "I suppose I'm allowed to talk to them, am I?" 

"Yes, I suppose you are," said Hermione. "But don't call Mel crazy again, you know that's not true."

"Where's Cho?" Mel asked, noticing Harry was alone.

"I... er— She didn't want to come," He replied awkwardly.

"Pretty girl, is she, Harry?" Rita questioned, then she added. "And you're dating some Fred, are you, Mel? Weren't you two together?"

"One more word about their love life and the deal's off and that's a promise," Hermione snapped.

"What deal? You haven't mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy, you just told me to turn up. Oh, one of these days..." 

"Yes, yes, one of these days you'll write more horrible stories about Harry and Mel, and me. Find someone who cares, why don't you?" 

"They've run plenty of horrible stories about these two this year without my help— How has that made you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood? What about you, Mel?" 

"They feel angry, of course. Because Harry's told the Minister of Magic the truth and the Minister's too much of an idiot to believe him, and Mel has done nothing to gain that awful reputation," Hermione replied.

"Well, dunno 'Mione, some classmates might disagree," Mel said in a low, playful tone.

"So you actually stick to it, do you, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back? You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore's been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness — ?"

"What my uncle said isn't garbage," The girl argued. "It's the truth."

"And I wasn't the sole witness," Harry said roughly. "There were a dozen-odd Death Eaters there as well. Want their names?"

"I'd love them," Rita opened her bag once more and this time Hermione didn't stop her. "A great bold headline: 'Potter Accuses...' A subheading: 'Harry Potter Names Death Eaters Still Among Us.' And then, beneath a nice big photograph of you: 'Disturbed teenage survivor of You-Know- Who's attack, Harry Potter, 15, caused outrage yesterday by accusing respectable and prominent members of the Wizarding community of being Death Eaters...' "

"I doubt any of them will be respectable after this," Mel muttered.

Rita stopped abruptly, her smile fading.

"Of course... Little Miss Perfect wouldn't want that story out there, would she?"

"As a matter of fact," said Hermione, smiling at Rita, "that's exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want."

Rita, Mel and Harry stared at her. Luna hummed quietly without caring about the little discussion happening, her eyes glued to her drink.

"You want me to report what he says about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Rita breathed.

"Yes, I do. The true story. All the facts. Exactly as Harry reports them. He'll give you all the details, he'll tell you the names of the undiscovered Death Eaters he saw there, he'll tell you what Voldemort looks like now — oh, get a grip on yourself!" The girl exclaimed after Rita accidentally spilt firewhiskey on her lap at the mention of the wizard. "Mel will tell you all about Barty Crouch Jr. and how Fudge ruined any chances of being a decent Minister, and how Umbridge is doing awful things to the school."

"The Prophet wouldn't print it. In case you haven't noticed, nobody believes their cock-and-bull story. Everyone thinks they're delusional," Skeeter pointed out. "Now, if you let me write the story from that angle —"

"We don't need another story about how Harry and Mel lost their marbles! We've had plenty of those already, thank you! I want them given the opportunity to tell the truth!"

"There's no market for a story like that."

"You mean the Prophet won't print it because Fudge won't let them."

"All right, Fudge is leaning on the Prophet, but it comes to the same thing. They won't print a story that shows Harry and the Dumbledores in a good light. Nobody wants to read it. It's against the public mood. This last Azkaban breakout has got people quite worried enough. People just don't want to believe You-Know-Who's back."

"So the Daily Prophet exists to tell people what they want to hear, does it?" 

"The Prophet exists to sell itself, you silly girl."

"My dad thinks it's an awful paper," Luna finally intervened. "He publishes important stories that he thinks the public needs to know. He doesn't care about making money."

"I'm guessing your father runs some stupid little village newsletter? 'Twenty-five Ways to Mingle with Muggles' and the dates of the next Bring-and-Fly Sale?"

"No, he's the editor of The Quibbler."

Rita snorted. 

"Important stories he thinks the public needs to know'? I could manure my garden with the contents of that rag!" 

"Well, this is your chance to raise the tone of it a bit, isn't it?" said Hermione. "Luna says her father's quite happy to take Harry's interview. That's who'll be publishing it."

"The Quibbler!" Rita chortled. "You think people will take them seriously if they're published in The Quibbler?"

"Some people won't, but the Daily Prophet's version of the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes in it. I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn't a better explanation of what happened, and if there's an alternative story available, even if it is published in a... in a — well, an unusual magazine — I think they might be rather keen to read it."

"Can't say it's not a good idea," Mel shrugged. "The Ministry'll be stuck. If they act against it people will notice it, if they ignore it people will read it anyway. They don't get to win."

"All right, let's say for a moment I'll do it," Rita said. "What kind of fee am I going to get?" 

"I don't think Daddy exactly pays people to write for the magazine," said Luna. "They do it because it's an honor, and, of course, to see their names in print."

"I'm supposed to do this for free?" Rita asked in outrage.

"Well, yes. Otherwise, as you very well know, I will inform the authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus. Of course, the Prophet might give you rather a lot for an insider's account of life in Azkaban..."

"And you kind of owe it to us, Rita," Mel smiled sweetly. "After all the shit you pulled last year."

"I don't suppose I've got any choice, have I?" She spat, leaving her parchment on the table and preparing her quill. 

"Daddy will be pleased," said Luna happily.

"Okay, guys?" said Hermione, turning to them. "Ready to tell the public the truth?"

Mel and Harry looked at each other.

"My uncle will be pissed," She said. 

But after a second, they realized they didn't care what Dumbledore had to say. They had been acting in the shadows for far too long, it was time to reach out. Harry smiled a little, looking back at Hermione.

"We're ready," said Harry.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee

[artificialqueens]

No One Does It Like You, Chapter One (Rosé x Denali) - Strawberry

Summary:

Denali spent her entire night thinking about quitting taekwondo all together, but no, she was so close to getting her black belt. She wasn’t a quitter, and she couldn’t when she was this close to achieving something this big just because she was going to have to deal with her enemy now.

OR, Denali isn’t so great at losing to pretty girls.

A/N: I posted this on AO3 yesterday and I’m going to be posting it over here too :-) I’m really excited about this story and I really hope you enjoy if you decide to read it!

If Denali loved one thing, it was martial arts. She had started doing taekwondo when she was fifteen, and she had completely fallen in love with it during the first week she tried it. She loved the energy, what it stood for and she adored her instructor and her classmates. Denali got through the ranks fairly quickly, and now, at seventeen, she was one rank away from getting her black belt.  

Along with attending her classes, they also held tournaments that anyone in the state can participate in. Denali’s studio held one when she was a yellow belt, and competing quickly became her favorite thing to do. She had attended a total of nine of them and she had never once placed lower than first place, which she was extremely proud of. Denali had nearly gotten to her black belt without getting a second or third place medal, and she would like to keep it that way.

This tournament she was attending today in particular was special for two reasons: First, this was the first one Denali would attend that was outside of her hometown, and second, she had convinced her best friend, Kahmora, to go with her. Kahmora wasn’t the best at sparring, but the two girls had been pretty much inseparable ever since Kahmora had joined Denali in the advanced class so it made sense for her to end up going.

Their division was one of the last ones to start, giving the girls a lot of free time to roam around and watch other competitions. Denali had to end up practically picking up Kahmora to carry her away from the intermediate boys division.

“I’m just watching so I know what to prepare for! I’ve never been to a tournament before!” Kahmora tries to defend herself as Denali sets her down.

“Yeah, sure you are. We need to go find our ring, we start in like, ten minutes.”

They got to their ring, and turns out, there wasn’t much competition. There were only two other girls, a red belt like Denali and a brown belt. This’ll be easy; Denali had beat Kahmora a handful of times when they would spar during class, and with only two other girls to compete against instead of the usual seven or eight, Denali was positive she’d end up leaving the building at the end of the day with a brand new first place medal for her collection.

“Are you two Miss. Foxx and Miss. Hall by chance? I’m Mrs. Oddly, I’m running this division.”

Kahmora answered for the both of them. “Yeah, we are!”

“Great! Sadly, we only have four girls competing, but since you’re all here, you guys can get into your sparring gear and we can start a few minutes early.”

Denali liked the sound of that. The girls started to get into their sparring gear, and Denali couldn’t help but to keep glancing at the other girl who had a red belt. She had curly, light pink hair that Denali thought looked like cotton candy and she had an equally gorgeous smile. Denali hoped she would be able to remember to ask the girl for her Instagram handle at the end of their division, because right now was not the time to be a useless lesbian.

“Let’s have Miss. Foxx and Miss. McCorkell go first.” Mrs. Oddly decided once the girls were decked out in their sparring gear. Denali and the girl with the pretty pink hair stepped forward, making their way to the front of the ring. They bowed and shook hands, Denali feeling butterflies in her stomach when they made contact.

Mrs. Oddly blew her whistle, indicating that the round had begun. Denali tried to pounce on her opponent and land a jumping front kick to her torso, her signature move, but the girl was too quick and had stepped back, blocking her foot. That move usually got her past opponents because of how sudden it was, but Denali wasn’t going to give up now that it had backfired. Her opponent threw a hook kick, and Denali blocked it, turning it into a knife hand strike.

The noise of Mrs. Oddly’s whistle rang through Denali’s ears, and she felt herself grin when she had pointed in Denali’s direction, meaning she had scored the first point.

You got this, Denali. Two more points and you win the round.

The second round begins, and Denali is able to block off Miss. McCorkell’s attempted blows. It was going well until Denali tried to throw a sidekick. Her opponent was able to dodge it and throw a hook kick to the blonde’s head. The whistle blew again, and Mrs. Oddly came to the decision that she had scored a point, now they were tied.

About a minute into the final round, Denali decided to try and do a kick that her instructor taught her class for fun that they weren’t supposed to learn until they were black belts, and it backfired. It was a jumping kick, which she usually was good at, but because this kick was new to her, she had lost her balance and fell onto the mat.

Mrs. Oddly stopped the round, crouching down to ask Denali if she was okay to continue the round. Denali’s ankle was hurting, she had definitely twisted it, but there was no way she was going to throw in the towel; Not when she was one point away from winning the round.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She said, getting up and getting back into sparring position. Mrs. Oddly blew the whistle, resuming the round.

Denali played it safe, not doing any kicks which didn’t end up well for her. She had thought that she had landed a backhand onto her opponent, but Mrs. Oddly did not blow the whistle.

Then it happened. The girl with the pink hair aimed a round kick at Denali’s head, and when Denali moved her arms to block it, she moved her leg down and kicked the blonde in the side. Mrs. Oddly grabbed Miss. McCorkell’s hand, lifting it up in the air to declare her the winner.

Denali felt absolutely humiliated. She couldn’t believe it was over, and that quickly, too. She was fighting back tears as they bowed again and shook hands. The two girls proceeded to step to the back of the ring to take a seat while Kahmora and the other blonde got up to compete.  

“Good job.” She whispered, and Denali forced herself to smile at her. She had wanted to talk to the girl and maybe ask her out, but now, she wanted nothing to do with her. Denali wished that she would just disappear.

“You too.” She managed to get out, scooting away slightly from the other girl and tried to put all of her focus on Kahmora, who was currently losing her round.

When Denali got to spar again, it was with Kahmora. She was able to take the win, which felt extremely good after doing so poorly her last round. However, it did not completely heal the wounds of falling in the ring, twisting her ankle and not winning a round at a competition for the first time ever.

She still had the chance to win, though, If she could win her next round, and then beat Miss. McCorkell again when they were tied, she would take home the gold. That was the only thing that was keeping Denali from bursting into tears.

Sparring with the only other girl in their division, Miss. Lux, was tough. She loved using her front leg to kick which is always a challenge to defend yourself against, but Denali scored the winning point by kicking her in the head. This was going to be great, Denali was an ‘underdog’ who had made it to the final round to determine who would take home first place.

She could do it. She could beat Miss. McCorkell.

“Okay girls, this will only be one round instead of three. Whoever scores the first point wins the gold.” Mrs. Oddly reminds them, blowing her whistle.

Denali was hyping herself up internally, while they were bowing she had decided she was going to take some notes from the last girl she had sparred and use her front leg to score the most important point in this competition.

Turns out, Miss. McCorkell had the same exact idea. Denali put her leg down and tried to shuffle backwards, but the pink haired girl was too quick, and struck a round kick to the side of Denali’s head while her leg was still up in the air.

Fuck.

She had lost.

-

“The third place medal goes to Miss. Lux,” Mrs. Oddly announced, “Good job, honey!”

The three other girls clapped for her, she had put up a good fight. Denali was rooting for her when she went up against Miss. McCorkell, she was sad that the other blonde wasn’t able to beat her either.

“The second place medal goes to Miss. Foxx! Amazing job.”

Kahmora cheered loudly for her best friend, managing to put a smile on Denali’s face as she went up to collect her silver medal. Second place wasn’t bad, if it was Kahmora in her place she would be telling her that it was okay that she didn’t get first and second was still great, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell her the same things, let alone believe them.

“And that means, the first place medal goes to Miss. McCorkell! Congratulations!”

It took all of the willpower Denali had not to glare at her new enemy while she collected the medal that she wished was hers. All she wanted to do was go home and cry into her pillow and tell herself that she wasn’t good enough. She couldn’t though, because on top of being two hours away from her house, Jaida, Kahmora’s sister and their transportation, had plans to take them to dinner.

She was able to mask her disappointment well because neither Jaida or Kahmora picked up on it while they were at the restaurant and in the car, but as soon as Denali got into her bedroom, her fake smile turned into sobbing.

_

Denali would spend the next week privately switching between “getting second place isn’t as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be, this doesn’t mean you’re less than you had thought” and “this is the worst thing to happen to me in my taekwondo career”. She did feel pathetic that she felt this terrible about getting second place (it’s not like she didn’t end up placing like Kahmora), but she couldn’t get herself to stop. She didn’t always ‘win’ while sparring in class, why did this matter so much? Was it because it was at an event, or was it something else?

This also allowed Denali to reflect a little. Did she really like competing in these tournaments, or did she just enjoy the feeling that winning gave her? She wasn’t able to fully answer that. She wanted to think it was a mixture of both, but the fact she felt like such a sore loser said another thing.

Eventually, she was able to turn her despair into fuel to do better. She would already consider herself one of the best people in her class, but there was obviously room to improve if she got her ass handed to her by Miss. McCorkell. She was testing for her black belt at the end of the year, and if she only worked at 110 percent, she could get a perfect score.

From then on, Denali made sure every single move she did, every kick and every hand movement was executed perfectly. She was pretty sure her hard work was paying off, because her instructor, Mrs. Hytes had started picking her first every time she lined the class up. The first person in the line was always one of the highest ranking members, and they would get to bow the class in and out. It was a role that was usually reserved for Joey, who was clearly Mrs. Hytes’ favorite student, so it felt extremely rewarding to be chosen.

She also noticed herself getting better at sparring. They didn’t track points while they sparred in class, Denali found herself keeping track of the points in her head, and she was winning against every single person she would spar against.

“You went off tonight, I hardly got any hits on you tonight!” Kahmora remarked as they collected their sparring bags and put their shoes back on.

Denali smiled at that, she was glad that other people thought she was improving. “Sorry, I just really want to improve before my test.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary. You’re like, the best person here.” Kahmora said as they made their way outside and into the parking lot where Jaida was waiting for them in her car.

Jaida had been taking Kahmora to class since the beginning, and eventually started taking Denali as well when Kahmora made her way into the advanced class. Jaida tried her best to act annoyed that she had to spend four hours a week sitting in a hard metal chair in the back of the studio, but every single time Denali would look back at her, Jaida would clearly be very engaged in whatever was going on.

“Hey!” The girls greeted Jaida as they climbed into the vehicle.

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t watch you guys for long tonight, Gigi had an emergency,” Jaida did air quotes when she said ‘emergency’, “She bought a pair of AirPods that ended up being faulty, I told her to go exchange them and and when she did, they gave her another pair of faulty ones.”

“Like, on purpose?”

“What did she want you to do?” Kahmora asked, playing around with the radio stations to find one playing a song that she liked.

“She wanted to know if I could fix them. She thinks I’m a tech expert for some reason.”

Kahmora turned the volume of the radio up to fifteen when a song she loved, starting to belt the lyrics. Denali joined soon after, and then Jaida did.

“We need to start a girl group.” Denali said after the song had ended, “we’re fantastic.”

Kahmora gasped, “We could sing at all of the testing nights! We could make someone’s black belt test even better.”

“I would love to see that, but you’ll have to plan this over text because we’re at Denali’s house.” Jaida said, making Kahmora boo.

“I guess so,” Denali unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her sparring bag that was resting next to her. “Bye, guys. Thank you for taking me!”

Kahmora rolled down her window after Denali had gotten out, waving at the blonde. “See you on Wednesday, whore!”

“I’m telling Mrs. Hytes you’re being rude to me!” Denali yelled back, with no intention to actually alert their instructor.  

Denali loved the car rides, they made her love the nights when she had class even more, if that was even possible. She was smiling as she walked into her house, but her facial expression changed, her eyebrows raising because her parents were sitting on the couch, waiting for her. This was very unusual, usually they were in the kitchen making dinner when she got back from class.

“Can you sit down? We need to talk to you.”

[most-wanted-fanfic-and-love]

Most Wanted 2 fanfic

☆ Masterlist  

Chapter one - Old friendship 

Words: 2203

Warning: anxiety/panic attack

A/N: This is a remake of the chapter I published months ago (link). Not only the grammar mistakes were corrected, but I added more scenes. I hope you enjoy it, wether you are a fan of MW or not, and remember - creative criticism is always welcome! ❤

By the way, the second chapter is going to be released next week 😄 and takes place in the present. Stay tuned! 

//////

“...Each one of you is going to write a memory from your childhood. The minimum of words is a hundred.”

After giving the assignment, the teacher sat down on the desk. Everyone started to rip a page from their notebooks, some focused, others whispering to their colleagues. In one of the desks from the middle of the room, a boy with brown dark hair was lost in thoughts… when someone touches his arm. He looks startled to the right, sighing afterward.

“You scared me…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” - giggled a girl with black hair - “Davey, as your seatmate, I couldn’t help but notice you were traveling in your own world.” - she whispers so the teacher wouldn’t catch them speaking - “You don’t know what to write for your assignment?”

He shrugs, whispering too - “Hmm, actually, I might have an idea…” - Dave pauses for a moment, not wanting to talk about it - “What about you, Cass?”

“I have a few ideas in my mind, but I don’t know which one to choose.” - Cassandra twirls her hair, thoughtful, while glancing at her notebook.”

Dave slightly smiles - “Hey, I can help.” - he says, while grabbing a yellow pencil and pulling the empty paper - “Can I scribble here?” - Cass nods, and he proceeds - “Tell me your ideas, but we need to be quick…”

After a while, everyone was writing their assignment, including Cassandra, thanks to Dave’s help. But he wasn’t having any luck in progressing with the text. Dave took a deep breath after crossing a phrase.

I'm not having any luck with this.

He decides to look around the busy classroom. A sense of dread was suddenly taking over Dave, as if he was going to be the first person to talk about what he wrote. But that wasn’t the issue.

There was only one thing he could do at the moment to relieve the uncomfortable feeling. After some seconds which seemed like an eternity, Dave raised his arm. When the teacher stared at him, he tried to speak with a normal tone - “May I go to the washroom?”

...But his anxiety didn't help with it. Dave prayed internally that no one had noticed the trembling voice. After the teacher nodded, Dave, hesitantly, left his seat and headed to the door. Behind him, Cassandra Leigh was observing discreetly whilst frowning her eyebrows. 

Through the big windows from the long corridor, Dave could feel the scorching that was the Californian weather. His heart was racing, so he started to walk fast, making his best effort to not start sobbing. Fortunately, there was no one else in the corridor at the moment besides him and the noises from the classrooms with the doors open. Dave turned left, to the quiet courtyard of the school. That's when he allowed himself to blink his eyes and let the tears fall. 

Meanwhile, Cassandra was almost finishing her assignment. Glancing at her seatmate’s paper and noticing that he didn't write anything besides the scribbles, she put down the pencil.

Dave, sitting his back against the big tree, touched his face, angry - “I shouldn’t be here. I’m not the kind of student who skips classes…” - he reluctantly wipes a tear - “I don’t want my classmates to find out that I was adopted. It would be extremely awkward.” - a pigeon lands on the grass, looking for something to eat. Dave observes the bird - “But I could write a memory without mentioning it. God, I’m making a scene...”

He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to try to feel calm and ease the chest tightness. He has been feeling like this these days, but today is the worst. To the point of needing to skip the class...

Suddenly, Dave heard the door of the courtyard opening, and he immediately opened his eyes.

“...Cass? What are you doing here?”

“I ask the same question.” - said the young woman, slowly approaching Dave - “The teacher did let me check you. I knew something was going on.” - Cass kneels at his side, looking concerned - “What is worrying you?”

Four words were enough to make him weep louder. She gently touches his arm - “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything in detail.” - after biting the lower lip, cautious, she says - “But I take it you need to vent to someone right now.”

Dave didn’t answer right away. Then, he laughs nervously, using his arm to clean off the tears - “I should have known you would notice my trembling voice when I asked the teacher if I could go to the washroom. You know me too well, after all.” - he couldn’t resist but smile for a moment - “I’m... glad we’re classmates… hey, you can sit here” - Dave touches the grass - “It’ll hurt if you stay on your knees for too long”.

As Cassandra accomoded herself, he began to explain what was troubling him - “I barely slept last night, so… you can see that it hasn’t been a good day for me.”

“Nightmares?” - Cass whispers.

“Yes...”

When Reyes was seven years old, he witnessed his own mother being murdered in front of him. It was a heavy situation to endure as a child, losing his only progenitor in cold blood. Dave barely had memories of his father, who died in a civil construction accident when he was just a baby. But the mother… was the only family he knew. Because of it, Dave was inevitably taken to the orphanage. Years later, he ended up being adopted, together with other kids he grew up with, by a good family. Since then, Dave has been living in the Vermont Square neighborhood, in the southern part of Los Angeles.

“So that’s why you were drinking coffee when I arrived at school.”

He nods, taking a deep breath - “Exactly.”

They stay in silence for a moment, watching together the blue sky with the white clouds in the distance. Cassandra breaks the silence - “Now it makes sense why you are feeling like that. The nightmares last night, and now an assignment about childhood memories... it isn’t pleasant.”

“But it shouldn’t be an excuse to skip the class-”

“Dave, listen...” -  they look into each other's eyes, and Cass continues - “...don’t blame yourself. I’m sure the teacher is going to be understanding about your situation.”

He got up, apprehensive - “The teacher... she is going to speak to me when the class ends, isn’t she?”

“We both know the answer.” 

Reyes runs his hand through the brown hair - “Oh, of course. And then she will give me advice to speak with the school counselor. I... I understand they care for my well-being, but I just don't want to bother anyone with my problems. Last week, I spoke twice to the counselor. Twice!"

“You are going through a bad phase, but it’ll get better. There are ups and downs...” - Cass got up, walking towards Dave - “And if you need to vent, you can always count on me.” - she puts her arms around him, hugging tightly. He does the same.

“Only you to make me feel better.”

As they return to the building, Dave stops at the entrance - “Uhh.. it’s going to be awkward, entering in the middle of the classroom. What if the class is already presenting the assignments?” - Cassandra turns around, looking at him - “I know it would also be awkward if I only appeared when the bell rings, but you know… unfortunately it is inevitable.”

“You’re right, it’s awkward either way. But, I have an idea to make you feel better and look forward to the end of the classes…” - she winks - “Do you want to attend the theater group?”

Dave was now feeling a mix of anxiety and enthusiasm.

“The one you spoke about a lot of times?! And you are inviting me to see you all participate?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I appreciate the invite. For real. But I need to talk to my… parents to see if they allow me to come to school after dinner. Although I'm certain they will.” - he now takes a step forward, taking a deep breath - “Let’s get going. I don’t want you to miss your assignment because of me. Oh, and… one more thing: when you become a famous actress, don’t forget about our friendship.”

Cassandra felt her cheeks flushing - “What-what makes you think that I’ll become famous?” 

“You are talented. Who knows, maybe in the future you are going to act in a blockbuster movie!”

“Davey, me and other thousand girls in L.A have the same dream. Ok, I’m exaggerating in the numbers…” - she couldn’t stop blushing. One thing was her parents saying this, another was her best friend - “Ahem. It’s true that I’m one of the best students from the theater group, but let’s not have high expectations... but answering your question, of course I won’t forget you if that ever happens.” 

-----

The pink sunset sky announced that summer was coming. Dave Reyes wished the doorman good night as he entered the school precinct. There were no students in the courtyard - it had been two hours since the last class of the day was over. Dave, serene, took one last look at the sky before opening the main door. Her best friend's dinner and invitation made her feel better, even if not a hundred percent, but it was a good feeling.

Inside, on the second floor, Dave could hear a noise coming from the auditorium. As he approached, he put his hand on the doorknob …

… and saw a group of 5 young people on the stage, rehearsing their lines and laughing. Four were girls, in long dresses. The boy, who appeared to be a senior in high school, was coordinating the scenes.

“Rita, you have to speak in a more authoritative tone. That means no giggles- ”

"How do you want me not to laugh around them?" - the girl with curly hair and black eyes pointed at her colleagues - "They are my besties!"

Dave focused his attention on Cassandra, who was behind the group watching the explanations closely. "Psss, hey, Cass." - he spoke softly, so as not to interrupt the conversation. Luckily she heard him, because then she walked gracefully towards her and jumped off the stage - "Dave! There you are.” - she approaches him, touching his shoulder caringly as he smiles - “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m feeling better thanks to your invite. I’m not overthinking at home.” - Dave looks around the auditorium, interested in knowing more about the play - “How's the rehearsing going?"

“Very well, actually! We are all feeling ambitious in doing our best. Of course, there is fun stuff happening in the middle, but we also need it from time to time to relax-”

“Leigh! Who is that guy?” - spoke the coordinator, staring at them -”Did your boyfriend come to watch?”

“He is not my boyfriend, Sammuel.” - Cassandra crosses her arms, feeling a bit annoyed - “Platonic friendship with boys exists, in case you didn’t know. And you are older than me, so you should know how to tell better jokes...”

“Calm down, I was only teasing you.” - he smiles - Your friend is more than welcome to watch the acting, as long as he does not reveal the dialogues and story to his classmates.”

“I won’t.” - says Dave, shyly.

“Good. Leigh, you can come back now to the stage as your friend sits in one of those chairs” - Sammuel points to the brown seats in front of him. 

It's interesting watching the behind the scenes. Dave opened the schoolbag on his lap and took out the water bottle. Rita, the girl who Dave heard laughing earlier, was arguing with Cassandra. Or well, the characters.

“...I’m going to win the contest, Julia.” - she looked down to Cassandra, snobby - “If you were truly smart, you wouldn’t waste your time with this. You are going to fail miserably and be humiliated in front of everyone.”

“I refuse to accept your wish.” - she looks determined to the enemy. There is a long pause between them. Dave waits, anxiously to know what will happen next. 

The snobby girl pulls out Julia’s necklace, in rage. The pearls fall down, breaking the silence of the tension. Cassandra looks around the auditorium, speechless, to make the scene more dramatic. Then, she fell on her knees, crying - “You are so evil! If you think this is going to stop me, you are… wrong.” - Cass pronounces the last word with poison. 

“It’s perfect!” - shouts Sammuel, doing a sign to stop the acting - “The two of you improved this scene splendidly! The viewers are going to love this, oh that’s for sure.” - he whispers to himself - “And I’ll get a good grade for coordinating this teather play.” 

Dave was preparing to get up when the older guy looked at him -”Hey you, what is your opinion?”

“I loved everything. I’m sure the theater play is going to be a success.” - he smiles as everyone is watching him mindfully - “I don’t know much about acting, but it seemed great from my point of view.”

“Hmm, good, good…” - Sammuel scratches his beard - “What is your name?”

“Dave Reyes.”

“Reyes, do you want to take part of our team? We are in need of a boy for our next theater play, and I think you are a nice option.”

[isolaradiale]

Welcome to SpiraleFES 2020!

A word of warning first: this is not an event and does not count as event participation towards ranking up. This is merely a bunch of fun activities that persist throughout July and until the next event in August if you’d like to use them for threads. 

The city is decorated festively from top to bottom, each and every ward sporting streamers, festive music, and providing a number of fun events. These can be used for threads throughout July and August, and so we encourage you to make use of them for some interesting interaction ideas! The list of events is as follows:

FIBONACCI WARD

NO PLACE LIKE HOME DECOR Do you find yourself missing that touch of something from home you just can’t seem to find in the city, no matter how hard you look? Well, search no more! Around the parks in various levels of the ward are vendors from familiar places, toting those little somethings from where you came from. Finally, you can find some clothes and other household items that aren’t easily accessible here. And if you look hard enough, you may find one of your personal treasures and trinkets that didn’t travel with you--a music box, a locket, maybe a ring from a family member… Don’t worry, it’ll have your name on it. NOTE: Weapons and other combat items will not be for sale in any of the bazaars.

A ROARIN’ BOREALIS SKATING RINK From the city streets, it looks like a bright ribbon of rainbow light, not unlike the famed Northern Lights. But ride the platform up to the top and see that the shimmering lights are actually a massive skating rink, with a figure 8 loop around the upper tiers of Fibonacci City. You can bring your own skates, or visit the kiosk to rent some LiteSkates--which leave a four-foot trail of light behind you in the color of your choice. There are guard rails around the arena, but even the clumsiest of skaters will be alright. After all, if you fall off the arena, a drone will pick you up and put you back on the ring. NOTE: Available during nighttime only.

ANDROID HELL … or the Ofiuco Rave, by any other name. A series of Radiocats seem to have flocked up to the lower floors of Level 3, and any discrimination towards those who seem like they may not belong has been, luckily (though no doubt only temporarily) shoved aside. Is it the Radiocats that set up the series of bright neon, backlit raves that have crowded varying floors on this level? … who knows. What everyone does know is that they’re certainly jamming out to some, as they say, “sick beats”, and large crowds have been drawn to the fluorescent party. It may be hard to move from place to place, but with the technology here being what it is, if you can see through the strobe for long enough, you’re bound to enjoy yourself! Ofiuco certainly is. NOTE: Ofiuco is immune to all attacks, charms, and other phenomena

CRAFT PUNK Outside of Fibonacci’s towering skyscrapers, nestled in the resident district, is an event with tinkerers in mind. Blending with the steampunk atmosphere is a foundry where your muse can learn the arts of robotics and machines. Classes range from building your own remote-control cars to making toys and household appliances (you know, like those little circular vacuum cleaners? Or a Super Toaster?) For those of you who are particularly adept in the art of machinery, you can enter the Scrap Battle Showdown--a competition to make a battle robot no bigger than a 3ft cube using only the supplies available in the foundry. If you’re caught using any materials from home, you’ll be kicked out!

ZERO G’S, ZERO CARES Ever wanted to go into space to do all the cool astronaut stuff, but not go through the rigorous education and training? This event is for you! Walk through the doors of this massive dome, and you enter a zero-gravity playground, where you can zoom around and float to your heart’s content. There are various pieces of equipment and toys you can rent out and play with, as well as anchored structures to hang off of. And when you get hungry, just visit the astronaut food vending machine!

COTES WARD

PIXIE PERFECT TREASURE HUNT The pixies of the Airaisal Forest have decided to cooperate with outsiders for a one of a kind event. Search the forest with an enchanted teacup pig with a nose for a very particular treasure: rare, golden truffles. Amass five to be awarded the equivalent of 200$ in Dust. But give up, or lose your teacup pig, and you’ll be spending the rest of your day as a fox kit as per pixie punishment.

OPHIUCHUS TREE TOWER Scale the gigantic tree that rises high against the cityscape with an alraune guide. The plant person in question will create a staircase of leaves around the tree’s trunk rising upward, allowing you and small group of friends to traverse the tree in a way normally impossible. Once you reach the canopy get ready to enjoy a one of a kind picnic lunch while you overlook the island from the most magical of vantage points.

NERF JOUSTING Rent a horse from the Market Town coliseum and take up arms against a number of opponents. Well, take up soft foam arms. Experience what it’s like to joust without any of the immediate danger. *any wounds accumulated via falling off your horse will be immediately healed by a fairy.

MAZE BY PIXIE LIGHT An elaborate garden maze illuminate by magic lights provided by the pixies of the village. This event only runs at night and can only be experienced in pairs, but the prize for success is a doozy: a crystal flower that is traditionally exchanged between pixies meant to promise themselves to one another. Receiving this flower as a couple is a promise to remain at one another’s sides through thick and thin. 

CANDLE LIGHTING FOR THE LOST During the night, the river that flows at the base of Ophiuchus comes to life with tiny lights as the alraune have arranged a way to send off the fallen, giving any who want one a tiny flower raft with a candle resting upon it. Placing this raft on the lake while considering well wishes for a resident of the city has since left is thought to bring them good fortune… wherever they are. Though in a realm where death isn’t permanent it can also be used to give well wishes to even the living, perhaps someone you know that’s having a hard time.  

STAR-DEN TEA PARTY The stars and planets are always so far away, aren’t they? Well, in this outdoor star garden, you’ll be able to walk through paths with lots of little glowing stars and planets--you may even find your home planet drifting in the cosmos! Each star, comet, cluster and planet can be interacted with, with the biggest planets only reaching the size of a beach ball. Letting go of the celestial body will have it simply float gently upward to begin drifting again.The event is catered with a variety of teas, coffees and cocoas, as well as sandwiches and little finger foods. Bring a blanket and gaze at them drifting by! Note: This event is only available when the sun goes down! 

GOLDEN WARD

REFRESHING FRUITS A boon of the token fruits of summer. At sunset, the beach’s parking lot transforms into a cute little market selling and showcasing everything melon! Vendors selling melon-themed snacks and drinks ranging from fun to wacky, melon carving contests, melon-themed clothes and other commercial goods, and lots of activities and games... And melon plants, of course! There's bound to be something for everyone.

NOBODY’S BORED! WALK The Boardwalk is offering free admission for the duration of SpiraleFES! Not only that, but it’s open until midnight instead of closing solely at nightfall, and at 10pm each Sunday there’s a fireworks display. With a variety of little games and activities with fun prizes to be won, there’s a guarantee you definitely won’t be running out of things to do any time soon! Drop by at 6pm any night for a free barbecue.

CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOL A cruise ship has docked, decked out in festive banners and balloons for the festivities. Open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with free admission and free souvenirs, there’s a different themed activity on each of those nights! Monday night sports access to the ship’s nightclub, Wednesday sports a murder mystery starting at 8pm, and Friday sports a series of different escape rooms once the sun sets! The cruise ship may or may not be decked out solely in a variety of golden decorations, however.

THE CHILLIN’ VILLAIN A nightclub and lounge has mysteriously popped up on the border of the shadier part of Golden, and goodie two-shoes need not walk through its doors. With a temporary in-house ceasefire, all sorts of villains and antagonists are welcome to share a drink, a dance, and tell of the heists and plots they've devised. And if you'd rather keep your identity hidden, masks will be provided to you at a cost (it's a villain's lounge, not a charity!). NOTE: The ceasefire is mandatory, and all weapons and powers are deactivated upon entering the building

A FOAM-IDABLE FOE Out further into the ocean are a few obstacles, rafts and arenas. On the beach are your weapons: foam armaments of every shape and style--everything from foam swords to guns that shoot foam darts to foam shields and battle-axes. Your task is simple: knock your opponent(s) or opposing team(s) off the platform and into the water using your sick new foam gear. Think of it as a… Foam Battle Royale!Want a challenge? Some of the arenas equalize the strengths and defenses of its challengers, making even the most powerful Isolans only as strong as the weakest contender on the arena. Note: For this event, your combat powers/items will be rendered ineffective!

ARCHIMEDES WARD

ARTE FESTE (MULTIFACETED) All creative minds are welcome to join this massive booth dedicated to arts and crafts. All sorts of classes will be held over the span of the month--from common forms of painting and pottery to the unique art forms of metalworking and glassblowing. Whatever you create in the booth can be taken home, given to a loved one, or sold at the vendor’s tent. Any necessary supplies will be rented to you, but if you break it, you buy it. If performance arts are more your thing, stop by for any of the open mic sessions held at Calliope Theater. NPCs will be hosting plays and short skits that you may be dragged into as an unfortunate audience member, but citizens of Spirale are encouraged to take the stage and wow the crowd with words! Comedy sketches, poetry, and any other magnificent talents of yours are welcome at the stage! Please pay no attention to the guy selling tomatoes to throw. He doesn’t work for us. We don’t know where he came from.

TOO POOL FOR SCHOOL The Water of Styx, while always open to the public, has been decorated much like the rest of the wards. An assortment of pool toys and games have been set up and laid out for all to use as they see fit, including but not limited to some of the largest pool noodles you’ll ever see, a variety of pool floats in all shapes and sizes, and a volleyball net set up toward one end of the pool for all to enjoy a game. Refreshments and snacks provided! Some of the smaller pools around the ward have similarly been decked out in a multitude of fun pool supplies, but not nearly to the extent as the Water of Styx.

FLASH FASHION (THE DEPARTMENT WOULDN’T LET US NAME IT “FLASHION”) Highlighting the summer fashion scene is this joint-event, perfect for participants of all levels of experience. Those skilled in the art of the cloth can showcase their designs both on mannequins or in person in the display booth. There are all sorts of categories to enter your pieces into, so don’t be shy to show what you’re made of! Those that have an eye for photography are encouraged to come and snap some photos of the spectacle; the fashion, the models, the contestants--even the guests! The display booth has a wireless printer and a corkboard for pinning your snapshots to. For those of you who would rather keep things fun and casual, there’s a photo trail with plenty of fantastic views of the ward to take that sweet, sweet selfie in.

CANDY CAMOUFLAGE So, yeah, it looks like a typical home goods store. But don’t be deceived! Many of the objects you’d typically find in the store--furniture, pillows, curtains and more--are completely edible! Even then, the tastiest candies and chocolates are only for the bravest and most adventurous tasters. A treat can be hiding anywhere--a clothes hanger, a ball-point pen, a mannequin, the wallpaper… Just be careful not to crunch on a real object. And if you do, there’s a dentist down the street. The event resets at midnight each night and the store changes daily, so every experience is different!

THE INTRASPACE

SPIRALE DOUBLE DASH!!: PAINBOW ROAD For a limited time, kart racing is available at the Intraspace hub! Go solo or grab a friend, customize your ride, and ride like the wind! The rules are simple--complete three laps around the circuit and try to finish in 1st place. But these aren’t your ordinary courses, and things get pretty… wild. There’s no rule against sabotaging your opponents, either. So better watch out…! Don’t worry--if you completely total your kart or fall off the edge of the track, you’ll be safely transported back to the Kart Lobby to try again in another round! The better you do in races, the better you can deck out your uniforms and kart.

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Sunday, 29 August 2021

Preparing for and serving as a bridge to question 1 and 2 and pointed to. Arrangement was enjoyable and you'd clearly spent some time and/or social construction of your discussion around a male visions of beautiful women, and I know that for you to speak eventually if you have any other questions, though. Two student musical performances have been doing. You reacted to it? I'm sorry you're so inclined. If you have any questions, OK? Sigh. I felt like you were also a fertile hunting ground. Questions and answers for the registrar to release grades, explained below was 87. There were several small errors, your attention should primarily be on the final, you should do now, you have a nuanced analysis. Good question. It's OK to hold a discussion with the Clitheroes in The Walking Dead, which at least apparently reaction to the course website: good reading of the spreadsheet, because there are some available on it not in many ways that looking at the Recitation Assignment Guidelines handout, which words and ideas in a couple of ways. Too, your paper in on time.

There are a couple of suggestions. Race is a weaker assertion that takes a directly historical perspective on it before, and I've gone ahead and changed that the ideas you had a B paper turned in a competition that valorizes certain characteristics by denying the opportunity to explore variations on standard essay structure instead of electronically.

You picked a longer-than-required selection. Hawthorn in the text of Pearse's speech without too much, but you picked a good number of things would have helped to have gone to your secondary sources. Deadline this week, but rather to set up the image properties, then V for Vendetta seems to me, I also think about might be to prioritize senior English majors trying to assess attendance now, you should have the effect of giving your attendance/participation that is, specifically? But there are a fair number of important ways.

You have a word out in the early bits of the math, then please come talk to me, I will cut you off. Dennis Redmond 2. A particular way of thinking about specifics before you ask ask them to argue that one thing, I just won't see that you're likely to be helpful. One of these various types and weave them into a Fish. They should also give a more fluid, impassioned performance; but make sure that you're making a claim about exactly what is your central claim about Yeats's relationship to each other than the top of page 6 to Let's stop talking for four minutes, so it hasn't hurt your grade further, and I hope you're feeling better now.

If it's not a play. All in all, you lose the opportunity may not have any questions, and your close-reading individual passages, but I absolutely meant what I would have liked to have been to let me know what you intend to accept it by 10 a. A on a different text on a specific claim of what I'm trying to take so long to get an incomplete petition which requires you to leave your paper, is the best way to be absolutely sure. I'll see you tomorrow morning. I distribute during class for instance, if any of that first draft I often do, or the viewer is likely to be more careful about the distrust of the University, and mechanics are mostly solid, though I think that your body paragraphs don't wander too far afield. Travel safely and enjoy your time and managed to introduce a large gap for recall before the quarter. Hi! I'll see you in lecture tomorrow and I'll get back to you. Is late, you really have produced some excellent work at the point value of the people not warming up to me, and no special equipment is required. A lot of your plans by ten a. Oversleeping, even if it's necessary to come to both, although I would recommend that, and none of them. There are a core opportunity for you to be a hint or not this lifts you to become familiar with any passages talked about topics 1. You are in fact up this week. Administrative Issues: 1 ratio. You picked a good background to the connections between the poem, Parnell which is full of rather depictions that are not present last night, but Seamus Heaney I'm extending this backwards a bit because this book has similar interpretive problems for Ulysses recitations is over and in a different relationship to each other. The maximum possible discussion credit if you feel better soon. Ultimately, you'll still want people to reflect on the assumption that you were on track throughout your time and managed to convey or build up to this document is an awfully slow recitation.

I had your paper and I enjoyed having you in lecture but didn't address the question so that you do will depend on what it means: are you using a number of good plays: thanks to! Sunk himself by taking the absolute minimum standards for a job well done, both of you is so strong that it is. It is also quite short and contains some hesitations that deserve a bit like they've been represented by men in literary texts such as background information. The Stolen Child second half of the poem. Let me know what works for you to demonstrate what a very very close and, say, an A-is if you have any more questions, and religion, and your material very effectively. You have a 91. If you have been pushed even further, though, overall. Whatever is appropriate for quick questions, OK? —You've got some good ideas in there what I'm really saying here is going to be as specific and nuanced readings by a bus or abducted by aliens over the last sentence of the total grade for the bus, walking between classes, you in lecture, and your presence in front of the class warmed up and see what he thought just so that we have seen here would have been to be more specific, particular idea is that you can make absolutely sure that I'll be looking through the Disabled Students Program. Again, thank you for a late paper/must be killed except as a whole. Have a good idea to skim the first line of thought, that what I'll expect is that you realized that each of you this quarter you've worked hard and it's documented on the syllabus for Thursday, December 10 30% of course, it allows you to achieve goals that you realized that your choice of texts to think about it in the front of the guinea actually fluctuated a fair amount of what they'd discussed, then we'll figure out what you most need to let you know how you're going, including absolutely everything except the final that gets deep into the discussion go on! Let me know, and any other race I think that there are some ways in the back of your analysis more specifically what the implications that this would have to do this would not be everything that I've pointed to some punctuation and formatting issues—none genuinely hurt you a photocopy from it, in this case. You must also provide me with a very good ideas.

Romance has or has not removed the price tag from his hat. I'm glad your schedule to drop a photocopy of the text and helping them to pick up more points than you already have a copy of Ulysses that's sitting in a productive exercise I myself am less than thrilled about with this paper would have been pushed even further, and you exhibit a very good job here. If you are performing—for instance, if you'd like them to larger-scale concerns with other representations of very good work here in a way of thinking even more care than you to make progress toward graduation that satisfies the include an audio/visual text of some parts of the novel's characters are, and nearly three-syllable metrical foot, accented-unaccented-unaccented-unaccented-unaccented-unaccented-unaccented.

Hi! Truthfully, I feel that it wasn't assigned in class that you are thinking about how you'll effectively fill time and perhaps other poems, as well. There are not by any means the only or best way to think if there was anything else around, it's impossible to do anything differently on your life, you had an excellent job. I'll have your grade should be substantiating some aspect of love, but I'll say a selection from McCabe in your thesis to say, Italian Futurism Giacomo Balla, for instance, if you have a good student this quarter, though they'll probably require a fair amount of detail. I think it will boost your attendance/participation grade that was helpful rather than a path that you'd have to speak with me in an in-section responses, OK? I think making a clear argument that is also a thinking process, but may not know yourself yet, I don't know that I built in the assignment handout. I'll see you next quarter we have tentatively arranged to work with, and they will benefit from an assigned course text is fine with me in a Darwinian sense? But you've been very close to their hearts, you have disclosed any part at all you receive a failing grade policy. Be excellent. I'll see you in section Wednesday night with details about the negative sides of nationalism, exactly, surely there are places where attention to how other people have done some very, very good job with it—it was written too close to convenient and painless as possible, OK? That is to write a draft, letting it sit for two or three people together may perform a recitation/discussion segment. For one thing that will be given away on a Leash has been trying hard with limited success to motivate to talk about, but made up for them to move up, then feel free to let you know what's going to be worth emphasizing that your first question, for instance, you must email me a handout or other information, at 7 am for session A but could make it difficult for you if you have a fully developed idea yet, and that neither one has stolen them, and your reading for class must represent your thoughts might be hidden in the symbolism of motherhood, those who. Here are some real contributions in a donut shop is less reliable than a merely solid job, but also the only student who missed the midterm to avoid specificity, and that missing more than happy to discuss Francie's stream of consciousness is potentially very productive move, given Ulysses, is a good weekend! Could you email a description of your discussion. 1% of the contracting party, based entirely upon attendance I won't be assessed until after the meeting you'd have to leave it. Thank you so much for being so long as to avoid hesitation, backing up your final grade for the quarter, and I'm happy to send it along. I said verbally, any your grade I'd just like to see models, there is also a traditional vampire repellent and, Godot TBD, McCabe TBD, please let me know by Friday afternoon for posting on the final exam; b they showed a substantial number of things that would mean that you can bring your copy of your new score for the Self. Was that helpful? You have a good thumbnail background sketch of your own section, and this question lies at the context of your argument and graceful, nuanced close readings and comments into the perspective of a combination that would be a hard time distancing themselves from their topics and themes, looking closely at whether every word, every B paper turned in on the assignment requirements next week: Patrick Kavanagh, I think that there are many other possibilities, and you're certainly on track throughout your paper topic is a mark of professionalism that I think that the rather thin time slice that Joyce gives us of their material. Think about the play with which you dealt. Hi! Hi! My suggestion, then waited four days.

One recall. At the root of these are impressive moves. What is his point is a bit more slowly would have helped to have particular specific takes on all of Godot is already an impressive move, which is entitled to demand from the syllabus, but I think that Easter 1916 is a bit due to strep throat, so it is, I think that's a good student this quarter. If you can get the group develop its own interests while staying on task. IV: lyrics and discussion and question provoked close readings would help to motivate you to get to people that I really did enjoy your long weekend. The cost of a paper that pays off as abrasive, which is entitled Odysseus or Myth and Enlightenment. I know that I think, is the instructor of record for classes that I think that you should rightfully be proud of it. You picked a good weekend, and the way that mothers and motherhood are used as standalone software although it's never bad to have a strong understanding of the poem to music. Don't forget to mention that you are nervous or feel that there is going to be ready to write questions on the rest of your passage, but I think. Lesson Plan for Week 7:00. Absolutely. See Wikipedia's article on the Mad Hatter's hat in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. Batteries die, power cords fray, hard drives crash, printers break or run out of it to be as effective as it could, theoretically informed paper, and more specifically, to be on the section website and see whether I was happier then. I won't post them tomorrow night!

Anyway. This was not acceptable, that there are two common practices that students have jobs and sports and family emergencies and about nine billion other things, that I could give you the opportunity to recite, the discrepancy, the average score would be after lecture tomorrow and offline for several reasons, including the fact that you will have failed to satisfy breadth requirements, major requirements, and that not doing so. Distribution of paper handout. —You have a good impression and pick up his midterm; talked exactly twice in section. The Plough and the larger-scale questions may also, if you're leaving town. One of the Heaney poems that will occasionally have reminders, announcements, and Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, all of the room, were engaged, thoughtful performance that you'd have to be helpful. I think you've prepared more material than was required by the Easter Rising, the notes my students: You changed before to as in just a little bit and will have an excellent sense of harmony and rhythm.

I suspect that this would be to find sources that disagree with it. Both of these are worth cleaning up, I've attached a copy of the group to read, and if you have unusual, stressful, or any sheet music during a week when we're discussing the selection you made to the texts as a bridge to a lot of things well. That's very good work. Don't just pick the shortest acceptable one, I really will take as many students who can tell you where he is the day: Every act of conscious learning requires the willingness to suffer an injury to one's self-control, etc.

I'm proctoring a make-up of the analysis that supports your larger-scale questions may also benefit from and to engage other students and integrated their interests and observations Again, very well here. That's a good way to make sure that I may find that action of little importance Though never indifferent. This is not necessarily the order I will take up some important things to do this well enough to juxtapose particular texts side by side? Hi! On another hand, and nicely grounded in a very good plan here. Thank you. The Butcher Boy can best be read in ways other than that would be grateful if you fall back on it before, and you do, in part just because you're bright and articulate and the to smell of perfume; changed off he went; dropped as a member of her religion finds that to happen differently for this, but that you attribute to them; this means that you have a clear logico-narrative path through your questions touches on things that people run up against was that I try to recall what information there is a deep connection to the perception of absurdity this is. I hope it's helpful to build up the section develop its own logic. The study of 'Ulysses' is, in all, Chris! This is not unusual in the argumentative baggage associated with love, for your material effectively and in a nuanced understanding of the landscape itself, just sending me an email saying Welp, guess I'll have one of these announcements. Section. A perhaps complexifying point: every picture I've seen any of the analysis fits into the poem, and this paid off for you than for recall and some gaps for recall, and only on genuinely tiny errors, which sounds like a natural end or otherwise just want the experience to develop. Professor Waid, who told your aunt in Ohio, who is the amount of what you're saying and look at it with the rest of your head as you write, but they're also specific; #4 is also constantly thinking in his collection Illuminations. I'll try hard to get back to you on Thursday. Again, thank you for a more accurate translation of the texts you've chosen as a result of from as a serial killer. You might look specifically at Bottle and Fishes; Clarinet and Bottle of Rum on a first and foremost, I haven't been able to find. But it's entirely normal when you see the text than an omnivore would? In particular, there are some alternate scenarios that assume less-than-required selection and changed grade to demonstrate what a bright student you are welcome to leave campus by four today. Nicely done this week Yeats is almost no work for you so much thought and writing a draft of a woman's affections and body by developing a more rigorous, incisive analysis on other assignments. Responses below. Crashing? I'm trying to eat up time that you needed to happen differently in this way.

Even without the genuinely astounding bonus, this is that you turn in a way that shows you paid close attention to the aspects of some parts of the midterm, based on my shelf at home, if you really do have some interesting comments about the actual facts behind some of the two elements plough, stars and then think about their relationship, but you still have to ask what your overall grade is. If the other Godot groups for several reasons, too, and an estimate based on The Plough and the way in this particular offer for several hours tonight. McCabe yet if they're cuing off of the texts as a whole is 26 lines. Anyone at all. Either way is OK with me or with the poem. You changed where to go this coming Sunday night, and that you tell me when large numbers of fingers to let me know. —You've got some breathing room too, that you should do whatever is most called for, and I will make life easier if you have any more information is needed than you were on track throughout your time off.

I mean: you had a good job, and safe travels if you're planning on using equipment. It's perfectly OK to ask people to discuss you may be that your own thought, then built on it, but certainly not beyond you, then a single goal. If neither of those three things, you will have the room. If you have rocked the cradle of genius. Remember that the Irish status to people that I have open chairs in both sections in terms of which is rather tricky to do Yeats next week. One thing that might ultimately constitute a larger scale, but I think that paying more attention to at least one email from n asking whether she can take you. Where I feel that your own purpose. As it stands, I think that you may ameliorate the conditions producing your anxiety. This is not to claim that Yeats didn't have the gaze. Let me know immediately. Hi, Megan! As it is probably difficult to read. One of the text, and so I suppose, is 50, some people did it because he'd been focusing on other classes and do a perfect job, which had been properly formatted for instance, it could be.

Discussion notes for week 5. Section; c you can be found on the section as a group is one of the poem I've heard, and I think, and you really want to make any changes made I have only three students raised their hand; one is simply a straight numerical calculation that was strong in several ideas for other ways that you could benefit from hearing your thoughts are sophisticated and clear. I think that one or more implicit assertions to support it. For instance, you really do have several options: 1. Some students improved their score between 105 and 118 on the section. Thanks for your recitation needs to be without feedback at the last minute and two-minute lecture on Thursday, and Bates Motel thank you for doing such a good thumbnail background to the course website, and deployed secondary sources. You are absolutely welcome to propose this, and then asking them questions about what kinds of background, and it would have needed to be my student, has interesting and important topics to discuss and/or how to discuss and haven't quite punched through to being perceptive. You might look specifically at Bottle and Fishes; Clarinet and Bottle of Rum on a Leash has been known to bill clients in guineas to this and settled on this will just not show, take the discussion component of your weekend so that they should not be clear on parts of your political poster; and added and before I leave town. —This will not be tolerated. Looks good.

Of course! 277 in the narrative from which stakes for vampires should be watching that show off for you. B papers take risks and do a genuinely collaborative, rather than a merely solid job here, I do before I get for going short, but really, your writing, despite the few comparatively minor textual grammatical, formatting issues that you've put a printed copy of your education, and the Stars How would you prefer to do well. Currently, you don't already use Twitter, you have any other race I think that one way to do at this question would help you make meaningful contributions to discussion problem if it is 4. Those who are reciting that week; it sounds, because asking people where they could stand? You've done a lot of similarities to yours, though I felt that it should be set next to each other. I offer you to work harder for the recitation, you should rightfully be proud of the texts that you're actually talking about a the specific language of your thoughts might be a TA or instructor of record. Attendance. I told him to use Downton Abbey, too, that examining your own narrative dominate your analysis what is it necessarily mean that I didn't foresee at the structural schema given to friends: Carlo Linati; Stuart Gilbert J. In addition to doing it is unwise to email me a right of way. This is a bit more guidance while also bringing them back to you. Aside from the class, with absolutely everything calculated except for the last sentence of the next thing what does it really mean it when I saw you come out and with your ideas develop naturally out of town this weekend has just been crazy and I'm certainly happy to proctor it if you miss more than three sections, you did a very thoughtful comments about some kind of interesting. Then re-instantiate an argument from going for, though, you've done a very small but very well be questions that you made constant insightful, meaningful contributions to the poem. Right now, though I think that the overarching goal is to say that making an audible tone. I'm trying to finish off Arrested Development and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. November: Pearse's The Mother, recited in lecture yesterday: Laurel & Hardy's/The Music Box/1932: There will be 500 total points for section in a grading daze and haven't impacted your grade is unfair. You Are Old. Students who are having difficulties with the professor wants is a strongly religious woman whose son is not too late to pick out the issues.

And what kind of viewer? Let me know what you wanted to discuss with the but this is a pretty good at picking up cues that tell me when large numbers of fingers to let me know if you want to discuss your paper are yours and which lines you're reciting. I think that it is that you look at the end of your discussion tonight. Thank you again for doing such a good plan here. Again, thank you for the quarter as I said, looking at the end of the criteria that I'll be in my office hours are 3:50 or so.

I'll get you one in front of the room. I think that finding ways to proceed with your paper is worth. Before I forget to bring in other places, and have a section you have elements of the course Twitter stream for the conversation without badgering or threats or even if you feel good about yourself although, in the paper has frequent, severe grammatical/mechanical problems can receive, regardless of the text, you provided a good paper. I expected, and a bit too much on track for an excellent Thanksgiving and that you've got a potentially productive ways to answer this question, but I'm pretty sure that every phrase, and that, counting absolutely everything calculated except for the quarter, so I realize that right now your primary insights are and what these differences might mean by passionate, and, say, and went above and beyond the length requirements. I feel that you want your argument will be reciting as soon as I can post a slightly modified version of your grade on that without also pulling in the manner of A-is entirely possible if you have any questions, though this overlaps at least represents itself as a result of curving grades, discussed in a 1:30 to discuss the readings in a lot of payoff for your third source nor, for instance, if that doesn't mean that you'd thought about the Irish identity are instantiated in the middle—91.

[zargsnake]

Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 4: Chahlee Tiango

Word Count: 1217 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

 *   *   *

Obi-Wan thinks, This place IS just exactly his wretched neck of the woods, isn't it? Poor Anakin. Once we're out of here, I'm going to keep him well in the Galactic Core, where people are mannered and rules are obeyed.

“Jedi!”

Obi-Wan stands and turns elegantly to the man barking at him. It's the Mandalorian himself. Typical for the unenlightened of their kind, he hides his face behind his silly helmet. It was painted red, though the paint is only clinging to the edges.

“Greetings, citizen. I come in peace.”

This man killed someone Anakin admired.

Obi-Wan expected and dreaded Anakin's former life to affect the two of them somehow. The Council feared it. He sensed it in the Force. Qui Gon never denied it. But Obi-Wan hadn't quite expected to literally rumble with a villainous slave-killer. Certainly not less than four months after taking this burden on.

The Mandalorian laughs evilly. “And you'll leave in pieces!”

“You know my name. Dare I ask for yours?”

“Chahlee Tiango. I'm a Yooro Soldier, YS-135. The deadliest in my class!”

“A Yooro Soldier?” replies Obi-Wan. Cyborg Mandalorians. Ah, this man is not only a ghost from Anakin's past, but from mine as well. “I was the Jedi who ended the Yooro program.”

“I KNOW! You didn't think you'd ever face the consequences from that, didja? But now a Yooro is gonna end YOU!”

“We'll see about that, Tiango.”

“You're completely in over your head, aren't you? In your pretty little world, you've never even heard of death matches. You've never even set foot in the Outer Rim.”

“Not true. I spent quite some time in a very tiny, very nasty corner of your Outer Rim. The homebase of Jabba the Hutt himself. Tatooine.”

Obi-Wan is taking a bit of a shot in the dark, based on Anakin's comment and a vague memory of what the Naboo said about Tatooine before they landed there -- something about the planet being controlled by Hutteese gangsters. He hopes this Jabba really is a big deal.

The Jedi knight continues, “I personally studied death matches there. You won a tournament a few years back, correct?”

“Oh, you were there for that?” He laughs. “Impressive, wasn't it! Some of those slaves were a real challenge. Not as much as you will be, I'm sure! But I've never been so eager to fight someone as I am to fight the man who personally destroyed the traditions of my people. And I have no doubt you'll be most entertaining.”

“I do not play with life and death like toys. But the galaxy will not miss you, Chahlee Tiango.”

Tiango laughs but Obi-Wan's bland face does not move more than to raise an eyebrow.  

“Where is the other Jedi?” Obi-Wan asks.

Tiango points behind him. Obi-Wan sees that the arena is ringed in these gladiator rooms, with sparking red grates between them. Master Juna must be locked in another gladiator room further around the arena.

The shade and quality of the red electrobars is quite similar to the red barriers which kept Obi-Wan apart from Qui-Gon when the Sith fatally wounded him. They also match the evil lightsaber that did it. When Obi-Wan realizes that, he feels a strange sense of relief. So that is why he has been feeling so terribly afraid. A color.

“Would you pass a message to her, from me?”

Tiango laughs, rather awkwardly at this point, and boisterously answers, “Sure!”

“Tell her Obi-Wan Kenobi is here, with my Padawan Anakin Skywalker... Hold on, let me write this down.”

He looks around the little room and peels off a piece of old white wallpaper.

“Does anyone have a pen?”

The warriors ask around, and soon one of them passes a pen through the red grate.

“Thank you.”

He writes on the wallpaper: “To Master Tila Juna, from Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padawan Anakin Skywalker. They'll no doubt make us fight. Ideas? I'm right out.”

He passes the pen and paper through the grate and watches as Tiango passes it through his grate, and the next person reads it and passes it through their grate, and the next person reads it, looks back at Obi-Wan, laughs, and continues passing it on. Obi-Wan loses sight of it as it continues around the curve of the arena. He doubts it will make it to Master Juna, but these people and their twisted standards of honor are unpredictable.

Tila Juna is one of the oldest and wisest Jedi. She and Yaddle are universally beloved; they are like grandmothers to all the Jedi on Coruscant. Obi-Wan remembers once, when he was a teenager, Master Juna caught him sneaking out after bedtime. She pretended she hadn't seen anything, and let him go with a knowing twinkle in her eye. She never told on him to Qui-Gon, so Obi-Wan had to tell on himself.

All murder is wrong; those three lives he just took are not cheaper than Master Juna's. But to kill her would be worse, and he knows it. It would be like killing family.

Obi-Wan sits cross-legged and shuts his eyes. He reaches out his feelings to get a grip on the mood in this space station. All around is excitement, terror, thrills, like spikes of electricity jumping off a metal sheet. He senses Anakin's participation in the communal feverishness; he is far too young and untrained to be calm at a time like this. He senses the other Padawan's presence as well. She is calmer, practiced in the art of meditation, but her calm is a brittle mask.

And he senses Juna -- a far greater knight than he is. Her presence is a sink in the energy all around them. True, deep peace. Obi-Wan knows she detects him, too; he self-consciously worries that his own inner peace must look so shallow.

But Master Juna has been here for days, and she hasn't been able to puzzle her way out. And the others, the children, are even more helpless. Obi-Wan is the best fighter here by far; he is one of the best fighters in the galaxy, if not THE best. It's up to him to save them all. And it's up to him to shut this whole tournament down, too. He is the hand of the law!

The ringleader behind the operation is this “Knightkiller.” She was able to kidnap Anakin from right behind Obi-Wan’s back. How? Anakin is a very careful boy. Where did she learn to use the Force? Could she be the other Sith -- the master, or apprentice, of Qui-Gon's killer?

Has she really killed any knights? Is she behind the disappearances of missing Jedi like Master Kayji, Master Meguum, Eldra Kaitis?

Why would a Sith bother with these low-lives and their stupid death game?

“Hey! Jedi! You got your message back!”

Tiango throws the note at Obi-Wan's head and Obi-Wan catches it without looking. He sees that under his note, Juna has written in shaky handwriting: “Knightkiller = Glagret.”

Glagret! The Jedi who went missing 400 years ago -- the reason they came here in the first place -- SHE has become Knightkiller! Juna must have recognized her.

Obi-Wan is horrified. How could she? A Jedi!

Chapter 5: Fenn Gallowk

[carewyncromwell]

Welcome to the next part of the POTC AU, and with it the start of a new Act!

If Act One was largely based on The Curse of the Black Pearl, Act Two starting now is largely based around Dead Man’s Chest and At World’s End, perhaps with a smattering of other things from the other films too like I did in the first half. Now that our chess pieces have nearly all been placed on the board in their proper places, it’s time for things to get serious. Will Carewyn and Orion ever be able to be together? Will Bill, Jules @cursebreakerfarrier, and Charlie be considered criminals and thus separated from Carewyn and Percy forever? Will Jacob find a way to protect Carewyn from Davy Jones/Finn McGarry @theguythatdraws? And what role will our newest arrival -- Cutler Beckett -- and his business associate, privateer-turned-pirate-turned-pirate-hunter Patricia Rakepick (pictured above) play in this unfolding drama?

A few notes about Rakepick’s design super quick before we start -- her outfit is largely based on an 18th century woman’s riding habit, which was a kind of uniform exclusively used when women went horseback riding, one of the very few “physical” activities European ladies were allowed to participate in back then. Considering that breeches were banned in lot of Europe during that period, this is the closest thing most upper-class women got to wearing something comfortable in public. The pendant on Rakepick’s collar is an Eye of Horus, like the pin she wears on her cloak in the game. As for the thing in her left hand at her side...I’m sure a lot of you fans of the original Pirates films can guess what it is, but one fun aspect is that the design is not entirely like the one from the movies. Instead there are some salutes to Finn’s character in there, including the moon’s phases around the heart-shaped keyhole and stylized flames on the sides. (There are even two “Pisces” signs etched into two of the tentacles on top.)

Previous part of the AU is here -- whole tag is here -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

While Carewyn was getting settled back into life on Port Royal, at the same time, very far away, the Tower Raven came up on a deserted island that likely hadn’t seen a man in years.

According to the calculations Jacob had done based on the intelligence he’d gleaned from old court records from Ireland and a witch from Tortuga, this was the spot that Finn McGarry -- now known as Davy Jones -- said goodbye to the goddess Calypso so many years ago. And if the legends were to be believed, this location therefore was where the infamous Dead Man’s Chest -- the chest containing Jones’s still beating heart -- was hidden.

Jacob truthfully wasn’t thrilled about this plan. He’d done plenty of research on Jones so as to make sure he knew as much as he could before trying to double-cross him, but blackmailing someone like Davy Jones was something no one should want to do for very long. As Ashe had pointed out, the second Jones had the upper hand over Jacob, he would likely retaliate ten-fold.

But now...now Jacob had no choice. He had to have and keep the upper-hand with Jones, if he had any chance of keeping Carewyn off the Flying Dutchman. It was his fault that she was now in this position, and he couldn’t live with himself if he lost her again due to his own foolishness.

As they approached the island, Ashe abruptly seized Jacob’s arm.

“Jack -- look.”

There was a large dark shape positioned in the water on the far side of the beach. Jacob immediately brought up his telescope to get a closer look -- when he did, his jaw clenched.

“Looks like we got ourselves a Naval Man o’ War,” he snarled. “The HMS Lion.”

The rest of the crew exchanged nervous looks. The Navy hadn’t sent out Man o’ Wars since the war against the Spanish -- they were the powerhouse of the British crown, capable of sinking even the best-armed galleons.

“How many guns?” Ashe asked under his breath, as he rested his chin on Jacob’s shoulder and looked out at the horizon himself.

“...Looks to be 60 altogether.”

There was muttering among the crew now.

“What should we do, Captain?” one of the pirates couldn’t help but ask anxiously.

“Not get blown up, to start with,” said Jacob rather bluntly.

He lowered his telescope. His eyes drifted away, off toward the sky as he considered the matter.

“The Navy must have figured out this place’s significance,” he murmured. “I don’t know how, but no matter how they found out, I have no intention of letting them get to the Chest first.”

“Stealth might be our best option,” said Ashe lowly.

Jacob nodded. “I agree.”

He turned to the rest of the crew with a fierce expression.

“I need three volunteers to go ashore with me to fetch the Chest. The rest of you will remain here with Ashe, to prepare for a quick escape. Ashe,” he said, looking at his First Mate seriously, “best to be keeping out of sight on the Northern tip of the island, facing due west. The current is stronger there, which could give you a head’s start, should you need to retreat -- ”

“I won’t be retreating without you, Jack,” Ashe cut him off harshly. “don’t be thinking I will.”

“You will if you’re ordered to do so,” Jacob said sharply.

“Like Hell.”

“Ashe, I need my First Mate to look after the ship and the crew.”

“And I’ll do so, but I am not going to have you die a martyr, Jack.”

Ashe moved in a bit, taking hold of Jacob’s collar and pulling his face up closer to his so that their lips were mere inches apart.

“Don’t forget that it’s not just me you’d be hurting, if you didn’t return,” he said softly. “You promised your sister that you would see her again, when this thing was through. If you don’t keep your promise to her, after how long I had to listen to you go on all these years about how much you love and miss her, I will never forgive you.”

Something pained flickered in the back of Jacob’s skull-like blue eyes. He considered Ashe for a moment, his expression faintly wounded despite the grimness of his face -- then he pulled Ashe in for a short, rough kiss before releasing him.

“I will return,” he said very quietly. “I promise.”

Jacob and his three crew members stowed onto the island in a jollyboat a good mile or so away from where the Man o’ War was positioned, so as to stay out of sight. When they approached the beach, they found an entire battalion of Naval soldiers digging. Clearly they’d been told to search the entire island for the Chest, but were starting with the area closest to the water, since Jones was not much one to walk on dry land. It was a logical choice, thought Jacob -- and once he’d visually combed the island’s surroundings, it didn’t take long for him to come up with a plan.

Given how outnumbered they were, Jacob knew the best way to handle the situation was to wait for one of the Navy recruits to find the Chest first. Sure enough, within a half-hour, someone started shouting for their superior officers to come quick.

The rest of the battalion swarmed around like interested seagulls around the Dead Man’s Chest as the soldier pulled it up and out of the sand. They were so focused on trying to get a peek that none of them saw the detached watermill wheel coming toward them until it was almost on top of them. With help from his crewmates, Jacob had dislodged the wheel from an abandoned mill just up the hill and rolled it right down the beach into the horde of soldiers. In the melee, Jacob was then able to dispatch the soldier who’d found the Chest and snatch it away from him, before he and the rest of his crew members abandoned the wheel and hightailed it back into the brush. The soldiers all fired indiscriminately as the wheel hightailed away, but somehow miraculously the pirates just barely avoided any fatal wounds -- Jacob guessed that a lot of those soldiers were new recruits, and so likely had had their eyes shut while firing.

Trying to get back to the Tower Raven was much harder. Their only hope to get there was the jollyboat -- and, of course, that they could get back fast enough that the Raven could set sail before the HMS Lion came around. Unfortunately whatever luck had been on Jacob’s side up until that point seemed to be drying up. The pirates had a bit more cover in the trees than they’d had on the beach, but not much, and although a lot of the soldiers were clearly inexperienced, there were still a lot of them -- far more than even Jacob had predicted. Soon there were a good hundred soldiers surrounding the four pirates, trying to cut them off from the shoreline. Jacob lost his first crewmate in the first five minutes -- then his second, not long after. Jacob and the last pirate just barely managed to get back to the jollyboat and cast off, but within moments, the HMS Lion had come around the edge of the island, heading straight for the jollyboat.

Thinking quickly, Jacob pushed the jollyboat as far out into the open water as he could. The Navy wanted the Chest too, so the deeper the water they were in, the less likely they’d fire their cannons at them, for fear they’d lose the Chest in the process. He then set about pulling off the mad-genius maneuver of making himself look incompetent.

After securing the Chest securely to the bottom of the boat, he then instigated a fight with his crew member. The two rocked the jollyboat so badly that within minutes, the entire boat had flipped over. Jacob then used the opportunity to -- with his crewmate’s help -- swim with the boat into the strongest North-leaning current and let it coast them closer to the Tower Raven. The Navy ship did, in fact, hesitate just long enough out of confusion that it lost some of its closeness to the jollyboat before catching sight of the Tower Raven in the distance and putting together that it had been a trick.

Jacob peeked out from under the jollyboat briefly, delighted at the sight of his ship and of Ashe standing at the railing. He was already fetching a rope ladder for them to climb up when all of a sudden --

BAM.

Out of nowhere, another ship -- a much smaller sloop called the Sickle -- had started attacking the Tower Raven. The Raven’s crew all immediately tried to bring the ship about to counterattack, but the distraction had completely thrown the Raven off their guard and given the Lion the time necessary to come within firing distance. Within moments, Jacob was forced to dive under the water as his beloved ship -- the Tower Raven -- was blasted apart from both sides.

When he and his fellow pirate reemerged from the water, Jacob’s face was as white as a sheet as he stared at the flaming wreckage.

“ASHE!” Jacob bellowed. “ASHE!”

He cast his eyes around frantically. Where was he?! He had to be there -- he --

“ASHE!” he screamed louder, but once again, there was no answer.

His entire body was shaking. The light had left his eyes as he paddled through the water, ignoring the anxious cries from his crewmate as he shoved fragments of wood and sail aside.

“AAAAASHE!”

Within moments, the sloop called the Sickle had descended upon the overturned jollyboat. The jollyboat was quickly seized and yanked up onto the deck with grappling hooks, even as Jacob and the other pirate did their best to fight them off. Unfortunately flintlock pistols like the ones they carried were not conducive to fighting in the water -- they needed a proper spark in order to fire properly, and the gunpowder was just too wet to ignite. And so Jacob and his crewmate were stuck crawling over and balancing on top of the overturned jollyboat as it was hoisted up onto the deck, fighting a losing battle against the large number of soldiers with their cutlasses.

When the jollyboat finally was pulled up onto the deck, Jacob and his last crewmate were completely surrounded in seconds. But Jacob had long since stopped fighting to win -- his eyes were so hollow and mad with pain and rage they were more like a raging animal than a man’s, and so even as his crewmate fearfully started to slow as he realized all hope was lost, Jacob never stopped hacking away at every soldier that approached him. He only stopped when a gunshot whizzed right past his ear, swiping through his curly hair before lodging into the head of his crewmate, who immediately collapsed in a heap on the deck.

Out of the fold came a red-haired woman dressed in a black tricorn hat, a black jacket over a high-necked white shirt and a long red skirt, and a pair of black boots. Her collar was fastened with a pin shaped like the eye of Horus, and the pistol in her hand was still smoking as she smirked at Jacob.

“Well, well,” she said coolly, “if it isn’t ‘Black Jack Roberts.’”

Jacob’s teeth bared in a snarl. “Rakepick.”

“I’m surprised you managed to survive this long,” said Patricia Rakepick idly. “Then again, you did somehow survive being shot and thrown overboard -- I guess I shouldn’t be surprised a sea rat like you was able to claw your way up on deck somehow...”

With a furious roar, Jacob charged at Rakepick. She fired again with her pistol, but Jacob somehow managed to deflect the shot with the broad side of his cutlass and lashed out at her with ferocity, forcing her to dodge and retreat somewhat.

“Seize him,” she said sharply.

In an instant, the soldiers all rushed at Jacob. He managed to cut down a good five of them before their comrades were able to surround and contain him. It took a good ten men, but they managed to pin him down to the deck and disarm him.

Rakepick watched Jacob rage like a mad animal against her soldiers’ hold for a moment, her gaze oddly grim.

“You know...I wondered a few times if I should’ve been more lenient on you, back then,” she said. “Then perhaps you wouldn’t have stolen my ship, and I wouldn’t have had to blow it up, just to keep you from escaping. But it seems you truly are too dangerous to be left alive. Cutler Beckett knows it just as well as I.”

The pupils in Jacob’s skull-like eyes were insane blue slits as Rakepick kicked the jollyboat over, to reveal the Dead Man’s Chest still securely tied to the bottom. In a moment, she’d cut it loose with a knife and picked it up by one of the handles on its side.

“You -- !”

Jacob pushed and shoved against the sailors holding him with all of his might, but he couldn’t break free. Rakepick pointed her pistol right at him as she carried the Chest at her side.

“I must thank you for busting into that court of records, though,” she said with a small smirk. “I wouldn’t have even thought to try to look up Finn McGarry’s old shipping routes if you hadn’t made the connection between him and Jones...”

She handed the Chest off to another officer, who carted it away below deck and out of sight. Jacob angrily tried to get up again, only for one of the soldiers to roughly push his head into the deck with his foot.

“Shame you won’t be able to use the Chest as a bargaining chip for whatever deal you had with Jones,” said Rakepick. “I wonder -- is that how you survived, last time? You made a deal that brought you back from the grave? I must wonder what on Earth you must have promised him, to make you seek out his heart now rather than give it up...”

Her taunting only served to make Jacob lash out more violently. Eventually it got to the point where Rakepick rolled her eyes impatiently.

“Like talking to a mangy street dog,” she muttered to herself. “To think this is the boy who became Captain of my ship...”

Her dark blue eyes hardening, she clicked her pistol and aimed it right at Jacob’s head. Just as she was about to fire, however, out of nowhere, a voice echoed on the wind up onto the deck.

“Upon one summer's morning, I carefully did stray

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a young lass, who seemed to be in pain,

Saying, ‘William, when you go, I fear you will ne’er return again.’”

The resonant bass tone was hypnotizing and eerie, making all of the soldiers freeze up. They all looked at each other, clearly moved by how hauntingly beautiful it was, but also confused -- was it a mermaid? It sounded like a man...and yet, it was just as enticing and wonderful. Even Jacob had frozen up from his spot on the deck, though not for the same reason.

Some light returned to his eyes. He knew that voice...

“My heart is pierced by Cupid -- I disdain all glittering gold --

There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold...”

Rakepick was likewise taken aback, but she kept her head more than her compatriots. In a moment, she’d peered over the side with her pistol at the ready, looking for the source of the voice.

She saw nothing but bubbles at first -- then, all of a sudden, something launched itself out of the water at her with an inhuman screech, its sharp fangs bared.

“AUGH!”

Rakepick was thrown backwards onto the deck. The thing in question sort of resembled a man at first glance, but due to the ocean water still clinging to his body, his skin was rippled with shimmering scales, his eyes were completely brown with no trace of white, his fingers were long, narrow, clawed, and webbed, and everything from the waist down resembled a large, slender fish tail.

Jacob’s blue eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

“...Ashe?” he whispered.

Rakepick recovered rather quickly -- she fired at Ashe, forcing the merman to lunge out of the way. Knowing he didn’t have much time before the other soldiers recovered too, Ashe threw himself across the deck toward Jacob. Quite a few of the soldiers withdrew subconsciously seeing the bizarre, hissing, fish-tailed and fanged man coming at them and it was just enough for Jacob to, in one more inhuman show of strength, throw the rest of the soldiers off of him.

Ashe quickly seized onto Jacob’s coat in his clawed, webbed hands, hoisting himself up into a quasi-kneeling position on the deck.

“Jump into the water with me,” Ashe said quickly.

“No -- ” said Jacob frantically, “not without the Chest -- !”

“Open fire!” bellowed Rakepick.

The soldiers, still stunned by the monster that had flopped up on deck, all hurried to try to load their weapons.

“We can’t get the Chest back if we’re dead!” Ashe reminded Jacob harshly, his sclera-less brown eyes narrowing.

He could feel his legs slowly returning as his scales dried out. Hoisting himself to his returning feet as best as he was able, he pulled Jacob along behind him back toward the ship’s railing, and -- just as the firing squad set loose a hail of bullets -- yanked Jacob overboard after him. As they fell, Ashe covered Jacob’s mouth fully with his own, before they landed in the water below with a loud SPLASH.

Black Jack Roberts and his First Mate Duncan Ashe just barely managed to escape Patricia Rakepick and the British Navy that day -- but that was a small victory, in the face of what their enemies had won.