#and in fact i really like that one of the characters is both a lawyer and a runner

[starsstuddedsky]

What? Like It’s Hard?

gn reader x soonyoung

summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows. 

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract

warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????

full wc: 24.3k

playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)

a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)

a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......

“Nope.” You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it. 

“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips. 

“I won’t do it,” you say. 

Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. It’s an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time he’s done something insane for a bet. 

“Please! I’m desperate!” He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you. 

“No,” you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach. 

“Walk and talk, we’re not doing this here,” you say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Come on, how hard can it be?” Soonyoung asks. “It’s just a test.”

“Just a test?” You snort. “Soonyoung, you are aware that most people don’t apply to law school on a dare?” 

“I don’t have to get into law school!” He says, “just get a 179 on the LSAT.” 

As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe it’s a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and you’ll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage. 

“That’s actually harder,” you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This won’t be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated. 

“I’ll pay you!” 

“With what money?” 

Soonyoung pauses. You’ve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know he’s pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that he’s ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next. 

“Okay, I’ll offer you the only services I have.” He turns to face you, eyes on the floor. 

“Oh my god, Soonyoung!” You shove his shoulder. “You are not selling your body for a test!” 

“But it’s all I know!” He says. He pokes your arms. “You could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “You meant working out?” 

“What did you think I meant?” 

You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesn’t notice. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, not daring to check if he’s following. “I don’t have time to workout.” 

“Then what do you want?” Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. “Please, I’ll do anything!” 

“Why do you need me?” 

“Because you’re the smartest person I know,” he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, you’ve learned that the only time Soonyoung isn’t serious is when he flirts. 

“You are,” he insists. “Plus you’ve already taken it, so you’re my best chance. My only chance, it’s not like I have a good track record with tests.” He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like he’s joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoung–when he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. It’s that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isn’t paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you can’t bring yourself to snatch it. 

“You can pass it,” you say with a sigh. “It’s about studying correctly.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says. “I’ve never really studied.” 

“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.” 

Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. “Seriously?” When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back.  

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He shouts. He doesn’t let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. “I swear you’re welcome at the frat house any time, I’ll buy you anything you want when I have money, I’ll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheol’s car, I’ll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when he’s so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out. 

“It’s whatever,” you mumble. Though his arms aren’t around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds. 

“It is not whatever,” Soonyoung declares. “I swear, whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else you’d think they were joking but it’s Soonyoung: he’s deadly serious. 

You can’t handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. “Really? You’ll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?” 

“I’ll get that book back.” He glances at you. “It is a book, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Though there’s been some good adaptations.” 

“That’s the one with the zombies?” 

“Zombies?” You frown. “Oh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?” 

“That’s not the original book?” 

“No,” you say, laughing. “The original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.” 

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. 

“I’ve actually never seen that one,” you say. “It’s the only adaptation I haven’t seen.” 

“How many movies are there?” 

“Well, there’s the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series that’s widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie that’s iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course there’s Jane Austen’s other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.” You stop when you realize you’re dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls ‘an Austen tirade.’ 

“I liked the movie,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.” 

“I’ll have to watch it, then,” you say. “I know it’s the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. He’s studying abroad this semester.” 

“He’s the friend from your history class?” 

“No, that’s Jihoon, my roommate,” you say. “Jun was in my language class.” 

“I thought you hated everyone in that class.” 

“Oh, I did,” you say. “But Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.” 

Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You don’t recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so it’s not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoung’s voice is. 

“I really am grateful,” Soonyoung says. “I know I was begging, because I don’t think I can do this without you–well, I don’t know if I can do it with you, but you’re my only hope and–I’m rambling again.” He flashes a smile. “The point is, thank you.” 

You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. “It’ll help me study anyways,” you say. “You learn a lot when you teach.” 

“I thought you already took it?”

“I only got a 150,” you say, sighing. “I need at least a 165.” 

Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when he’s lost in thought. “Thank you anyway.”

“Well, you swore to do whatever I tell you,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t think I won’t abuse that.” 

“Oh, YN,” he says, “I’m counting on it.” He even winks. 

You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasn’t tried a line on you in so long you thought he’d used them all. He isn’t serious–it was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but it’s not like many people flirt with you, so it’s hard to stop your heart from jumping. 

You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. It’s 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if it’s past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. “Hey, don’t you have class right now?” 

Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. “Shit.” He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you. 

“Thank you!” He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesn’t notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, he’s gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for. 

.

.

Soonyoung’s brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows he’s in trouble. “That bad?” 

“Your analytical reasoning was good!” You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. “The logical analysis wasn’t that bad either, you just need practice.” 

“Wasn’t there a third section?” 

“The score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.” Horrendous, actually, but you can’t tell him that, not when he’s deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs. 

“We can work with this! It’s really not that bad,” you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what you’re doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if it’s what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust that’s probably painted on Soonyoung’s face. 

“You can start with practicing the logic problems,” you say, flipping through the work book. “I’ll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.” 

Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like you’re not trying to melt away from embarrassment. 

“This isn’t very much teaching,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “Lots of problem solving.” 

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” you say. “I just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.” 

Soonyoung glances up. “How come?” 

You chew on your lip. You’ve known Soonyoung for a while now, but you’ve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ‘right’ things, but it’s a study session, so you just say, “Just not good timing.” 

He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two. 

“When are you taking it again?” Soonyoung asks while he waits. 

“Just before Halloween,” you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone. 

“That soon?” 

You shrug. “I wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.” 

“Is it really that bad to take all your tests at once?” Soonyoung asks. 

“I mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.” 

“Is November cutting it too close?” 

“Depends on when in November you plan on taking it,” you say, “though you probably won’t be able to take it again if you don’t like your score.” 

“Not a problem for me,” Soonyoung says. He doesn’t waver against your raised eyebrow. “I’m getting that 179, first try.” 

“You’re that confident?” 

“In you.” He winks. “Also the bet is off if I don’t get it on the first try.” 

You nod. “Yeah, that makes more sense.” You glance at your calendar. “

“November 18th.” 

“That’s not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.” 

“I didn’t think you would be the religious type.” 

“Oh, I’m not,” he says. “The frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. There’s no way I’m letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and there’s no way he’d miss the party.” 

“You can’t just buy your own game?” 

“It’s a console actually,” he says, “and that’s not the point.” You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth. 

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. “You’re clearly committed.” 

He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, “You should come.” 

“To?” 

“The Christmas party.” 

You stare at the top of his head but he doesn’t seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you don’t see any dandruff. “Me?” You finally say. 

“You said you’d come, like, freshman year,” he says. “You never did.” 

You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties weren’t your scene back then. They aren’t your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go.

And that’s the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, you’d do anything. 

“I’ll… think about it,” you finally say. 

He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didn’t really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like you’re letting him down. 

“Can you explain this one to me,” he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table. 

You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoung’s answers and the correct ones. 

“Walk me through your process,” you say. 

“Okay, I start with…”

.

. 

“Soonyoung, are you even listening?” 

He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. “Something about strategies? For reading?” 

You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoung’s Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power. 

“Come on, it’s so nice out,” he says. “We should be outside.” He grabs your hand. “This is not studying weather, this is dating weather.” 

“Soonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?” You don’t dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip. 

He sighs. “No, but it’s October, we won’t get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?” 

You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You haven’t forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning. 

He drags you out of the library, though you don’t put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you don’t regret a thing. 

Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. He’s more prepared for naps than any class he’s ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground. 

Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. “There isn’t anything more fun to study?” 

“Soonyoung, it’s the LSAT,” you say. “It’s not really meant to be fun.” 

“But–” 

“You’re the one that wanted to go outside,” you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. “If you’re too distracted we’ll have to go back into the library.” 

He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark. 

The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isn’t trying to get out of studying–even outside of the party invites you’ve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you aren’t on campus when you don’t have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled. 

It’s for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, he’s never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesn’t help that he’s hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese. 

Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather. 

“Soonyoung?” You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure there’s a 80% chance he’s one of Soonyoung’s frat brothers. 

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns. 

“You were actually serious?” Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. “You know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?” 

“Yeah, but a bet is a bet,” Soonyoung says. “And I really want his Playstation.” 

Seokmin snorts. “You know he only said it because he knows you can’t do it.” 

“I’m not like I’m losing anything by trying.” Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides it’s not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you. 

“You must be YN,” he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you lie. Seokmin’s eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You can’t help but feel like he’s intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section. 

It’s because he’s interrupting Soonyoung’s studying. That’s why it bothers you that he’s here, even though Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesn’t stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave.  

“I don’t know how you do any of this,” Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem. 

“It’s easy!” Soonyoung says. “Half the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!” 

“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Well I did learn from the best!” 

“So cliche,” you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung can’t decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. 

“What?” 

He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, “I like you.” 

You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words. 

“I mean, you’re a cool person,” Seokmin quickly says. “Good tutor for Soonyoung.” After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook. 

“Tutor?” You say. “I really don’t think I’m doing all that much.” 

Seokmin shrugs. ”I don’t know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, I’ve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.” 

“That’s because you don’t dare to bet against me,” Soonyoung says without looking up. 

“He might have a point there,” you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re cool,” Seokmin says. 

“Thank you?” You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun. 

“Seems like the weather will turn cold soon,” he says. “This might be the last warm day of the year.” He glances at Soonyoung. “And you’re spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.” 

Soonyoung’s pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. “I take my bets seriously.” 

“Whatever,” Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. “What are the Ke$ha lyrics? ‘The party don’t start ‘til Soonyoung walks in?’” He doesn’t wait for a correction. “I think I’ll wait until you're finished and we’ll tear it up together.” 

Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You don’t mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesn’t matter, what does matter is it’s only supposed to be you and Soonyoung. 

“He’ll fall asleep in about five seconds,” Soonyoung whispers. “He doesn’t actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.” On that point you can’t really blame Seokmin. 

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your studying,” you say. 

“Right,” Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. “That’s what’s important.” 

You aren’t so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance. 

You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that it’s always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there won’t be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart. 

And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day won’t last long. 

.

.

You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you aren’t entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you haven’t had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark. 

A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in. 

“Hey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,” they say. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesn’t rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if you’ve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room for–the two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem sets–were spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test. 

You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it won’t be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. You’ve done more with less time. 

The first couple desks are occupied by students but you don’t stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldn’t find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into it–all on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms. 

You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isn’t actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you can’t help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer. 

BATTERY LOW

The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment. 

A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. It’s moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop that’s all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most. 

In the end it isn’t the rage that gets to you. It’s the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid. 

The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs don’t make a noise. You can’t control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when you’re falling apart. 

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow. 

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, glad for the quiet because you don’t trust your voice to support you. 

He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. “Extra reading couldn’t hurt, right?” 

You blink at him. The only times you’ve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (it’s how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You can’t quite believe he’s in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesn’t vanish. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

“Shhh,” you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though there’s no one in sight. “Quiet floor.” 

He nods, looking around as if he’s waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasn’t missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks. 

You done? He mouths. 

Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because it’s the easier answer. Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take. 

“Come on,” he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on him–like if you let go, you’ll lose your tether to this planet. 

Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently can’t do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung can’t help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is. 

“One time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.” Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going? 

“Soonyoung,” you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. “I don’t really want to go back right now.” 

He nods, squeezing your hand back. “You want to go for a ride?” 

“You have a car?” 

“Nope.” Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, “I need a ride,” and “Pick me up by the duck statue,” and then he hangs up. 

The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck. 

“That’s a raven.” You point at the statue. 

Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. “Oh, Larry?” 

“It has a name?” 

“Well, there’s the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.” 

“And the frat name is Larry?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I didn’t choose it.” 

“And you call it a duck, too?” 

“It looks like a duck.” 

You study the statue. You aren’t an ornithologist, but you’re pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus you’ve never seen a pure black duck. But you’ve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesn’t have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, you’ve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions). 

“We just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.” Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driver’s smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasn’t trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funny–that’s more your style. 

“Here’s our ride,” Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You aren’t sure if he even realizes, but you’re in no hurry to remind him. 

“Hey Josh,” he says. 

Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. “Soonyoung, you have a friend.” 

“I’m YN,” you say, wishing your voice didn’t sound so scratchy from crying. 

 “Oh, I know,” he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. “I’m Joshua.” You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. “Am I just an Uber to you?” 

“Seungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,” Soonyoung says. 

“So, yes?” 

Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression. 

“Where are we headed?” He asks with a resigned sigh as if he’s used to Soonyoung’s antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if he’s done this with someone else? You’re so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoung’s answer. 

“Seriously?” Joshua asks. “It’s a weeknight.” 

“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.” 

Joshua glances at you. “You’re okay with this?” 

You pause. You don’t actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But it’s Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. “Yeah.” 

He shakes his head and mutters something you don’t catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didn’t even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe. 

.

.

The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the car’s headlights that Joshua didn’t turn off. 

Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. “Ready to have some fun?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshua’s shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves. 

Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoung’s movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide. 

You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it. 

“So, you do this often?” You ask. 

“Do something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.” Joshua laughs. “We don’t usually end up this far away though, and usually someone’s life is in imminent danger.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua. 

Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. It’s difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like he’s not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, “I’m going for a walk down the boardwalk.” He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. “Have fun with him.” 

You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoung’s friends are this strange. Maybe it’s just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoung’s sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac. 

“It’s the ocean!” He shouts over the crashes. 

“You’re soaked!” You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. 

“My shoes are not coming off!” You warn him. 

“Just come closer!” He says. “It’s amazing!” You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet. 

“It feels better like this,” he says. 

“My feet are covered in enough sand,” you say, though he does look like he’s having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the year–it would feel so nice running over your skin. But you’d end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out. 

Soonyoung holds out his hand. “You’d like this.” 

You chew on your lip. Normally you’d laugh in his face and say ‘not a chance.’ But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoung’s and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isn’t out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side. 

Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to be–and you’re right, it’s freezing, but Soonyoung’s right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh. 

“Good?” He asks.

“I love it.” 

You don’t know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoung’s hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesn’t feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower. 

“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says. 

“Mine, too.” You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoung’s hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you don’t regret a second of it. 

You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoung’s name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isn’t standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand. 

“What are you doing?” You choke out. 

“We’re at the beach,” he says. “I have to take pictures.” 

“And you need to take off your shirt for that?” 

“Why? Does it bother you?” He smirks. 

Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The “people” you’ve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at him–normally it wouldn’t get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But it’s not just the muscles. It’s Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. It’s the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. It’s the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot. 

“No,” you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie. 

Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to take pictures?” 

“Where’s your phone?”

“The camera’s broken,” he says. “Just use yours and you can send them to me.” He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isn’t particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again. 

You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents. 

“Just like that!” Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. “You’re really good at this.” 

“You can’t even see the pictures,” you say. You bite your lips so you don’t smile. Apparently that doesn’t matter, because he keeps posing. It’s a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose. 

“Are you guys done?” You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. “We should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.” 

“Definitely want to,” you say. You haven’t gotten any work done, but that’s no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesn’t argue. 

“Perfect!” Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. “One more picture together and we’ll go.”

Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering. 

You can’t help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like you’ll malfunction at any second, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Soonyoung’s features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesn’t seem too bad. 

“Let’s go,” Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshua’s car. 

“I just cleaned it,” he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in. 

You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. “Nobody touches my baby.” 

You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isn’t serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place. 

“Address?” Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes. 

Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. “Remind me never to do this again.” 

“The beach was your idea,” Soonyoung says. His words slur a little. 

“Just go to sleep already,” Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk. 

“‘m not even tired,” Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. “You have class in the morning?” 

“Not until nine.” 

“That’s good.” He doesn’t succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. It’s like watching the energizer bunny shut down. 

“Soonyoung?” 

He opens his eyes and you think maybe he’d wait for the rest of his life for you to say something. 

“Thank you.” 

“Always.” He smiles lazily. “I swore I’d do anything.” 

His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasn’t sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to? 

You didn’t think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake. 

“We’re here,” he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice. 

You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesn’t come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you. 

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you. 

Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You nod, grateful you don’t have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you aren’t quite ready for it to be over. At least you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung. 

There’s still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that you’ve never enjoyed studying like you do when he’s by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better. 

But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen. 

So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times they’re cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one. 

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isn’t fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when he’s this close. 

You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung. 

The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoung’s chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway. 

“Are you seriously just getting back now?” 

Shit. You never texted him. “Um, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,” you say. He waves behind you. “Soonyoung, Jihoon.” 

Jihoon folds his arms. “I’ve heard about you.” You glare at him, which he ignores. “You’re taking the LSAT on a dare?” 

“You’re the one that wants to be a music producer?” 

Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. “You’ve mentioned me?” 

“Only the worst,” you say, smiling at him. 

“I thought you were at the library all night?” Jihoon says. 

“We went on an adventure,” you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesn’t move. 

You turn back to Soonyoung. “Goodnight,” you say, resisting the urge to hug him. 

“It’s morning,” Jihoon says. 

“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time “Send me the photos!” 

You turn to Jihoon. “I forgot to text you.” 

“I figured I’d wait until the morning to call,” he said. “Even if you were kidnapped there’s still a 90% chance you’d figure out a way to show up for class on time.” He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. You’re too tired to argue back, especially when he’s right, so you just follow him into the apartment. 

“I like him,” Jihoon says before you vanish into your room. 

“Should I find you a wedding dress?” You say. “Soonyoung is single.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. “Why do I even bother?” 

You don’t wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. It’s race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed. 

You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure it’s actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. It’s so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself. 

It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures. 

.

.

The weight of the world has the decency to wait until you’re home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and can’t push it into the lock. If you didn’t do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete waste–all the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your desk–wasted and doomed to repeat. 

All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you can’t consider that a complete waste. 

You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. “What the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.”  

You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if he’s been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes. 

“How did you know I was here?” 

“Me and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,” Jihoon says.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, praying Soonyoung didn’t hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoon’s scoff as he locks himself in his room again. 

“How’d it go?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. “I mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?” 

“No?” You frown. “And the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I don’t really know, I just really don’t want to take it again.” You sigh. “I know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really don’t want to think about it right now.” 

Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. “That’s perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.” 

“That seems pretty on brand,” you say. 

“And a gift from me.” He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. 

“You’re kidding.” You say. “I think I have to be drunk to watch that.” 

“You don’t have faith in my taste in movies?” Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. “Sorry, force of habit.” 

“Soonyoung, I don’t think I can keep up with you,” you say, sitting slowly onto the couch. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a lightweight,” he says. “I definitely should not have chugged that.” 

“I guess I better catch up,” you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m terrible at that,” you say. 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.” 

You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. “I bet you were adorable.” You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you aren’t comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words. 

“I can’t drink this,” you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside. 

“Jihoon does most of the cooking,” you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoon’s mother definitely smells funny. 

“I live in a frat house, this is heaven.” 

You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it. 

“Cheers,” he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. “How did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.”

“Yeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isn’t half as mean as he pretends to be,” you say. 

“We actually talked a lot.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. “Well, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.” 

“I would pay to see that,” you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms. 

“I didn’t know you were into that,” Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes. 

“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” you say, “and to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. We’ve been living together ever since because I’m the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.” 

“I can’t believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.” Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. “Fate isn’t on my side.” 

“Don’t you live in a frat house?” 

“Semantics,” Soonyoung says. He pauses. “Semen-tics.” He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too. 

“You’re drunk,” you say. 

Soonyoung points at you. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk too.” 

You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you don’t want to stop spinning just yet. 

“Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. “I mean, like, how do you know?” 

“It makes good money,” you say. “Well, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, I’ll be out of debt before I’m thirty, retiring at 65.” 

“But how do you know that’s what you want?” Soonyoung asks. You wonder if he’s asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him. 

It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots. 

You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you won’t have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Then Soonyoung walked in. 

He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didn’t really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didn’t wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you. 

Soonyoung hadn’t ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesn’t know. 

“I want stability,” you finally say. “This plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess it’s not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but it’s what I want.” 

“I think it’s cool. Knowing what you want to do.” Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm. 

“You don’t have any idea?” 

He shrugs. “I have to be smart to do the things I want to do.” 

“You are smart.” 

“You don’t have to pander to me, I’m not looking for your pity.” 

“Soonyoung.” You wait for him to look you in the eyes. “You are smart. This isn’t pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You’re just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I don’t think there’s a single person in this world that doesn’t like you. Don’t downplay how important that is.” 

He chews on his lip and you know he doesn’t believe you. How many people have told him he’s dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. “I’ll just end up being an intern, and then I’ll be so charming they’ll promote me without realizing I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.” 

You smile and shake your head. “We can vacation together in the Bahamas.” 

“Please, that’s where the semi-rich people go,” Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “We’ll have our own islands and sail past each other.” This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand. 

When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isn’t the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. He’s a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear. 

You don’t realize you’ve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoung’s hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex. 

“Sorry,” you mutter but you don’t get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that you’re almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out. 

You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoung’s chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You can’t bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesn’t seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him. 

“What?” He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again. 

“We should probably start the movie,” you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. “I’ll get my laptop.” He doesn’t say anything but you can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. 

You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you aren’t drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it. 

Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoung’s eyes. 

“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop. 

You raise your eyebrows but still don’t have the courage to face him. “It’s that good?” 

Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. “You have no idea what you’re in for.” 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you can’t tell he’s drunk at all. You have no idea what you’re in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is. 

.

.

You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them. 

“Damn!” Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand. 

“How are you so good at that?” Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes. 

“I’m really not, I think you’re just bad at staring contests,” you say. “Now hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.” 

He sighs as if he didn’t beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, you’re not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isn’t partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life. 

“Is it B?” 

“Are you asking or telling?” 

“I hate when you say that.” He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. “No, it’s C! Wait, no, B. No, A!” 

“Pick an answer.” 

He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. “B,” he finally says. 

You’re tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod. 

“I knew it! Trust your gut!” 

“You’re quoting me now.” You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. “You’ve grown up so quickly.”  

If it were Jihoon, he’d roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if you’ve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him. 

“You really think I’ll do well?” He asks softly. 

You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if you’d actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You don’t know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes. 

The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek. 

“Soonyoung.” You squeeze his hand. What you feel isn’t a passing crush, you’ve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesn’t give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. “I’d be an idiot if I said I didn’t.” 

He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. “I have a surprise for you!” 

He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels. 

“I was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,” he says. “I really, really tried to walk gently and didn’t bring it near any coffee.” 

You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book. 

“You got it back?” You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. “My baby!” 

You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. It’s just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You can’t wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter. 

“You like it that much?” 

“Of course,” you say. “It’s my baby.” 

“It’s a book.” But he smiles and you know he’s just teasing. So you figure, why not? 

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like he’s the one getting a gift. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“This is my thank you,” he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. “It’s the least I could do for you. 

The awkward position isn’t exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you don’t want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes. 

“How did you get it back?” 

“Same way you lost it,” Soonyoung says. “I made a bet.” 

“On what?” 

Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers. 

You frown. “How? Jun is in another hemisphere.” 

“Don’t underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,” Soonyoung says. “By the way, I’m wearing your friends down. Pretty soon they’ll like me more than they like you. 

“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right. 

“I got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,�� he says, holding a finger out. “Jun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.” A second finger goes up. “Who else can I add to the list?” 

He’s only joking. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends. 

“You’ve got to start going on the offensive,” Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didn’t miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. “I’m serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasn’t met you yet.” 

You snort. “They’re frat bros, they just want more people to party with.” 

“I’m a frat bro,” he says. 

“Yeah, but…” But what? He’s Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to you–why the epitome of frat boy chaos doesn’t repulse you like he should. But he isn’t some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as “hazing,” only to take them for a dinner he can’t afford and skips his own classes so they don’t miss theirs. 

He’s not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you can’t find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members. 

So you just say, “Isn’t this supposed to be a study session?” 

Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isn’t reading, he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Your test is tomorrow,” you say. 

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t pick up the pencil. 

You’ve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He can’t hide when he’s upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesn’t fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And it’s usually easy to figure out what’s wrong–he’s tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier. 

“Is something wrong?” You don’t know why you’re so scared of the answer. 

“I just thought that… nNever mind.” He sighs again. “You’re right, this is a study session. I should be studying.” He doesn’t look at you and you can’t help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades. 

Will the rest of your feelings fade when you aren’t with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?

Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isn’t just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe that’s what really scares you. 

.

.

You glare at Soonyoung. “Do you know what time it is?” 

Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.” 

Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour. 

“It’s a Saturday.” Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldn’t fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart. 

You can’t even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.

“Honestly, I figured you would be up,” he says. “You were the one that said you didn’t think you were going to get any sleep.” 

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says. “I really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.” Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie. 

“Let me get dressed,” you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. You’d like to be able to dress up nicely, but you’re already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers. 

You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose. 

“Ready to go?” 

“How did you get out of bed this early?” 

“Oh, I never got in,” he says. “Long story, but we gotta go, they won’t wait much longer.” 

“They?” You ask but Soonyoung doesn’t hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving. 

“See you tomorrow!” He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he looks at you and smiles. “It’ll be fine.” Before you can thank him, he shuts the door. 

Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I should be asleep.” 

Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide it’s moot since there’s no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future. 

“I figured I’d save you from wallowing in worry,” Soonyoung says. “We can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! There’s going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barb’s for breakfast–”

“Breakfast,” you say. You aren’t a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you aren’t sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain. 

“Barb’s it is,” Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today he’s at 120%. 

He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesn’t see that the silly gesture made you smile. 

Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole that’s been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car.  

“I don’t have a car,” he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat don’t seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music. 

“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,” The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesn’t look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it. 

Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. “So I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still haven’t shown up to any parties.” 

“I’ve been busy,” you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt. 

“Hi, YN,” the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Joshua,” you say. “Get into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?” 

“Well, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.” He pauses. “It wasn’t moving,” he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.” 

“I have done it before,” Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. “It was a dare.” 

“Why am I not surprised,” Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadn’t said anything. 

The rest of the drive is quiet–at least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for “Wannabe” is sacrilegious to the frat leader. 

You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barb’s that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen. 

The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper “Is that really them?” to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu. 

“I had this thing memorized since freshman year, I can’t believe you’ve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that I’m hungover by the way, I’m actually running on my third energy drink.” He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop. 

“Aren’t energy drinks bad for your heart?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “Joshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when you’re nervous because you physically have to do something about it.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say. “Wait, why are you nervous?” 

“Your test results come out today,” he says too quickly.  

You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her “Happy.” 

“The usual?” She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. “Is this who I think it is?” 

“Who do you think it is?” Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, “Yes.” 

The corner of Happy’s lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Okay, haha, very funny,” Soonyoung says. “Stop harassing my friend. We’ll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.”  

Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word “friend,” but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you. 

“Why do so many people know me?” You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth. 

“The thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesn’t really shut up,” Seungcheol says. 

“That’s being gentle,” Joshua says. “One time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. That’s longer than the actual movie.” 

“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says. 

“The point is,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, “he tends to talk when he’s drunk. Usually about good things, things that he… Well, things that he likes.” 

You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. “You like studying for the LSAT that much?” 

Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesn’t react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’m dedicated to the bet.” He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. “That’s what I usually get.” 

“Isn’t against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?” 

“Did you just call working out ‘gym core?’” Seungcheol asks. 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Nope!” Soonyoung says brightly. “And cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?” 

“You know I can’t say no to bananas and chocolate.” 

“And pancakes!” He waves down the waitress and points to the stack. 

“Ah, the new Soonyoung,” she says. “You guys getting your actual usual?” 

Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesn’t bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoung’s “new.” Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they don’t look all that upset. 

“Mr. President!” The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoung’s Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are. 

Just what has Soonyoung said about you? 

“How are we doing on time?” One of them calls out. 

“46 minutes,” Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes… until 9? Do they all know about today? 

You tap Soonyoung on the arm. “What’s going on?” 

“You see, the thing is,” he says, “apparently I was nervous?” He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. “I don’t really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didn’t really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.” 

You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. “They’re all looking at me.” 

“Well, I guess I do talk about you a lot,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He won’t meet your eyes. 

Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think he’ll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek. 

“Because of the bet?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a moment. “I guess.” 

Coward. 

“Why are we whispering?” Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. “Are we gossiping?” 

Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.” 

“Just telling Soonyoung that I’ve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,” you say. 

“Could have had it sooner if you came to a party,” Seungcheol says. 

“You really want me at a party that bad? We just met.” 

Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. “If only I could tell you why you need to come.” 

You frown between the three men. “I don’t like when people talk in circles over me.” 

“Just promise you’ll come to the Christmas party. It’ll all make sense then,” Seungcheol says. You’ve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. He’s a strange man. 

“I’ll think about making an appearance.” 

“Really?” Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You haven’t seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, he’s even more excited now. “You’ll come?” 

You can’t stand his gaze so you study the placemats. “Maybe.” 

He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. “Please?” 

The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. “Fine.” 

“Get a room,” Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you aren’t embarrassed. 

“How long now?” You shout out.

“40 minutes,” someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower. 

“Look at this.” Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway. 

“Sweet,” you say and even you aren’t sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it. 

“Okay, can we please just eat,” you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they weren’t instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose. 

Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, they’re delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesn’t mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that. 

You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You don’t run away this time. 

He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. It’s Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung. 

Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words don’t reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer. 

“Last minute!” Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out. 

“Ten!” 

“Nine!” 

“Eight!” 

“Seven!” 

“Six!” 

“Five!” 

“Four!” 

“Three!” 

“Two!” 

“One!” 

Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesn’t mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you. 

169. 

“Congratulations!” Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you. 

“169!” Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but it’s just you and Soonyoung. The world didn’t end and Soonyoung is still by your side. 

The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when you’d usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoung’s side like a magnet. 

Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage. 

“Hey Soonyoung?” 

“Hm?” 

You say it before you can think too much. “Maybe just the two of us next time?” 

He grins before you can finish speaking. “I’d love that.” 

.

.

You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barb’s, trying to figure out how to call this a date. 

You’ve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. You’ve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then… you have no idea. 

It’s just Soonyoung there’s nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesn’t agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You don’t worry when Soonyoung doesn’t get to Barb’s by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you aren’t worried. 

It’s only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, there’s a 50% chance he’s lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you don’t even get his voice telling you to leave a message. 

The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isn’t Soonyoung. 

Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity. 

“You’re YN, right?” Mingyu asks. “You’re supposed to meet Soonyoung?” The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth. 

“He’s got his score back,” Mingyu says. 

“We were supposed to–” 

“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu says. “It was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.” He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. “He’s at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.” 

You’re too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they aren’t whispering and stealing glances at you. 

Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again it’s a weekday. 

You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but it’s quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesn’t even look at you. 

“Are you seriously drunk right now?” 

Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that it’s more tequila than fruit punch. 

You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didn’t invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. You’ve gotten used to the power of Soonyoung’s facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when he’s bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; they’re as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare. 

“You know a 167 is still insanely good, right?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Soonyoung.” He doesn’t look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you don’t yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder. 

“Let go,” you growl. “Talk to me like a normal human.” 

He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers. 

“What the hell?” Soonyoung says. 

“That gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?” You say. “You know, I really thought you were different.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re acting like a child. So you didn’t win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied. 

“You know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You don’t have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know it’s easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I don’t get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks you’re an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?” 

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t think the same thing.” 

You snort. “I don’t, but clearly you won’t believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then it’s not worth it when you could be so much more.” 

“Why do you even care?” Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like he’s been fighting a war you never knew about, like he’s been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like you’ve broken his heart. 

Why do I care? You could scoff. Because I’ve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. I’ve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we aren’t worthy of this planet, that love can’t solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You don’t just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I can’t tell you any of this. 

“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter but it’s still sweeter than rejection.

“Then why are you here?” Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you don’t have an answer for him. 

“I take it back. You are an idiot,” you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you can’t breathe. 

.

.

Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoung’s floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but you’ve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasn’t thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it. 

Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didn’t think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date. 

You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you aren’t brave enough to tell him. 

Jun calls but you can’t answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you he’ll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know you’re alive. You text him an apology you don’t know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesn’t call again. 

You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and can’t find anything in the kitchen that doesn’t make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning (the earliest you’ve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you. 

You’ve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was. 

“Are you done hiding?” 

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter. 

He folds his arms. 

“Fine,” you say. “I’m not done hiding.” 

“Well too fucking bad,” Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. You’ll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head. 

“Have it your way. Go ahead.” You wave your hand. “Get it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me that I’m an idiot? That I shouldn’t be so afraid of rejection, that I’m blind to how he feels? 

“Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t trust someone like him? That I shouldn’t be crying over a goddamn frat boy, I’m better than this, I’m better than him.” You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch? 

He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head. 

“Ow!” You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you. 

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” He grunts out each word with a blow. “You really think you’re better than him?” 

He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. “Of course not.” 

“Good,” he says. Then he hits you again and again and again. 

“Ow, Jihoon, what the hell?” You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself. 

“I’m not your babysitter,” he says. “I’m not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. I’m your best friend and you’re being an idiot and I’m not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.” He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. “Wait, no–that’s not what I mean, shit, sorry, but–” 

You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. He’s never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder he’s so bad at it. 

You wouldn’t laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you can’t stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor. 

“You know what I meant,” he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight. 

“I knew what you meant without the pillow.” 

“Too bad,” Jihoon says. “I’m tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something like–” 

“I swear if you bring up an anime, you’ll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.” 

Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. “I saw him the other day. He looked tired.” He pauses but you don’t dare speak. “We didn’t speak. I don’t even think he saw me. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not the one he needs to talk to.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“Then why are you still on the floor?” 

Because you’re scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because it’s the easy option doesn’t mean it’s the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him. 

“What if he hates me?” 

Jihoon snorts. “Then he’ll get some pillow violence too.” He pauses. “He doesn’t, though.”

“It doesn’t mean that it will turn out okay.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Jihoon says. “But no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.” 

You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but he’s right. It’s time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. It’s time to get off the floor and get ready. 

“Have you ever thought of being a life coach?” 

“Hell no.” 

.

.

What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isn’t with you. 

Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. It’s already crowded with more people than you’ve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who you’re looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last. 

“He isn’t here.” You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. “He went to visit family or something.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “At least that’s what he said.” 

You nod. You find it doesn’t surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose you’ve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though it’s still strange, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldn’t, if you didn’t think this stranger is implying that it’s your fault Soonyoung isn’t at the ‘Party of the Year.’ 

You can’t stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you can’t recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down. 

You came to apologize. He isn’t here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesn’t make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case you’re still sober. 

.

.

Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally you’d like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It’s hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you can’t find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because you’re an idiot that fell in love. 

You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isn’t full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think it’s pitiful, but you can’t stop. 

You didn’t think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. You’re vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someone’s chest. No, not just someone. 

Because you aren’t enough of an idiot, you can tell it’s him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly. 

“I thought you weren’t here,” you mumble. 

Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?” 

You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, I’m not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you. 

With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize he’s staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft they’d be, soft like Soonyoung himself. 

“You’re crying,” Soonyoung says softly. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you. 

He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and make the suggestion. 

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek. 

“You swore you’d do anything for me,” you say. 

“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats. 

You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. He’s put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didn’t send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form. 

“Could you maybe try loving me back then?” You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and you’ve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because it’s so loud and you’ve already drifted off to sleep, there’s no way you could hear his answer. 

“I already do.” 

.

.

The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you don’t actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as you’re done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face. 

“Better?” Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether it’s guilt or heartbreak you don’t know. 

 You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you won’t throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this. 

“Sorry I threw up in your trash can,” you say. 

“Believe me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,” Soonyoung says. “Wait, that sounds bad, I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean–” He stops himself, shaking his head. “It’s a frat house.” 

“It’s your room,” you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. It’s tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, it’s stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung. 

The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow that’s still dented from your head. 

“Did I steal your bed?” You frown except the movement hurts your head. 

“I slept in Johnny’s room since he’s decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,” Soonyoung says. “I actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.” He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. “If you want a change.” 

You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely don’t want to name. If you weren’t feeling so terrible already, you’d cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this. 

“I’ll get you a toothbrush, too,” he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though it’s clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad you’re stuck in them until you get back to your apartment. 

You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t be surprised. But he’s being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you can’t keep running from it. Besides, it’s not like the morning can get much worse. 

So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheol’s bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. It’s still a haze, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didn’t show up this morning, you’d think it was a dream. 

Soonyoung’s door is open when you finish but he isn’t in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. There’s a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But it’s where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesn’t work and your head still pounds). 

“Are you hungry?” Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. There’s a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else. 

“How are any of you alive?” You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter. 

“Yuta can sleep through an apocalypse, don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. “And most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I don’t have anything in it.” He doesn’t say anything else about vanishing. 

“I’m pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and I’ve never seen eggs in here before though, so I don’t think you should risk any of this,” Soonyoung says. “McDonald’s fries are a far superior hangover cure, they’ve never failed me.” 

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?” 

Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesn’t move. You can’t help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered. 

“There isn’t one,” Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. “But I have the keys to Seungcheol’s car.” 

“I’m not really comfortable with grand theft auto,” you say, though you don’t stop following him to Seungcheol’s giant white Jeep. 

“He gave me the keys last night when I walked in,” Soonyoung says. “Something about owing me. He was pretty drunk.” He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if you’re the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on. 

“I can’t believe you thought I’d steal a car,” Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift. 

“You have driven this car before, right?” 

“Of course,” Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty. 

Soonyoung’s driving isn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think he’s a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but it’s the most fun you’ve ever had riding in the passenger seat. 

“I’m never riding with you again,” you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. “You know yellow lights mean slow down right?”

“I stopped at this one!” Soonyoung says. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been in an accident.” He pauses. “Since I was nineteen.” 

You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. “That’s what I figured.” You peek at Soonyoung and he’s smiling too. 

So different from the last time you saw him. You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still haven’t apologized. And Soonyoung shouldn’t be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes. 

“The light’s green,” you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. You’re so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning. 

The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurt out. 

The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Nothing’s ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,” you say softly. 

“Oh.” The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. There’s a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. “YN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really don’t get it, then I’ll say it straight up: I like you. I’ve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you. 

“Did you know you’re the first person that’s ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldn’t believe in myself.” He frowns. “That makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again. 

“No one’s ever looked at me like you do. No one’s ever told me to get my shit together–well, they have, but you’re the only one that told me it was because I could be better. 

“You say it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that you’d never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. I’m so sorry for that, and I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry it took me so long to apologize.” 

“Stop,” you say. Soonyoung’s eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks you’re rejecting him. “Stop apologizing!” His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.”

You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. “And I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. I’m not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.” You open your eyes and grin at him. It’s easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. “But I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I don’t have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and it’s exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if you’re with me, it won’t just be okay, it’ll be fun.” 

Soonyoung beams. “Really?” 

You squeeze his hand. “I like you.” Like the first time you took the LSAT, you can’t think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you don’t need words. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. “Did you just confess to me in a McDonald’s parking lot?” 

“Better than drunk in my own bed.” 

“I didn’t!” You let go of his hand to hide your face. 

Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!” 

“I don’t remember it, it doesn't count!” 

“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you don’t lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours. 

“This okay?” He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting. 

“We are not having our first kiss in a McDonald’s parking lot,” you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“Fine,” Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. “You know I’m still sworn to you. Whatever you want.” 

The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that he’d do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that he’s willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But it’s Soonyoung. It’s easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and can’t hold onto a pencil for his life, he won’t ever drop your heart. 

I love you. One day you’ll be able to say it, one day you’ll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on. 

“Let’s get you some fries,” he says. “Then kisses?” 

You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his. 

Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he can’t decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker. 

“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—” 

“Where the hell are you? And where is my car?” Seungcheol’s voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. “You think it’s okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?” 

“First of all, you gave me the keys,” Soonyoung says. He glances at you. “And I’m at McDonald’s because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.” 

“Hey,” you say so Seungcheol knows you’re there. 

The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoung’s phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, “You’re with YN?” 

“We talked,” he says. “And we’re good.” 

You snort. “That’s how you’re going to describe it?” 

“Are we not good?” 

You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? There’s not a word to describe how you feel right now. 

“We are beyond good.” 

.

.

“Are you crying?” You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when it’s wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink. 

“She’s just so cool,” Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something you’ve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime. 

Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. “The whole bet was based on a movie you haven’t seen.” 

“You’re missing the end,” he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat. 

“I’ve seen it before.” Your bed really isn’t built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but it’s not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt it’ll be the last. 

The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesn’t let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours. 

“So am I officially qualified to go to law school?” He asks. 

“You are Elle Woods certified,” you say. “But you’re sure that’s what you want?” 

“I mean I have to get in. But I figure if I’m going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.” He pauses. “With someone that believes in me.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You can’t help but sigh. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s what you want,” you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think. 

“I want…” His words “To be with you. However you’ll have me.” His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist. 

“Still not answering the question,” you breathe out but you can’t even remember what the question is, not when he’s shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.

The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on you–your heart swells so large it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest–Alien style. Does he know what he does to you? How he’s made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when he’s with you? 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…” 

“I love you,” you say again, this time with more confidence. “I really, really love you.” 

Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe it’s your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers between kisses. “If that wasn’t obvious.” 

Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by. 

You don’t know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you.  

“You want to–” Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head. 

“I’m taking this back!” Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing. 

“Read the room, idiot!” Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter. 

“Does no one knock in Colombia?” You frown at him. “And when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?” 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. “And you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.” He glares at Jihoon. 

“YN didn’t say he was coming over,” he says with a shrug. 

You turn your frown to him. “You walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted ‘Soonyoung’s over.’” 

“I had my headphones on,” he says, though he’s avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions. 

“So this is Soonyoung,” Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. “You dyed your hair.” 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. “Spur of the moment thing.” You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isn’t his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color won’t last long either. Good thing there isn’t a color you don’t think suits him. 

“We should do this properly,” Soonyoung says. “Go out for dinner or something.” 

“Hey, I didn’t get dinner,” Jihoon says. 

“You want to get dinner with me?” Soonyoung perks up. 

“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.” 

“It’s not unfair, I’m just clearly his favorite,” Jun says. 

“Can you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?” You say. 

Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling. 

“What?” 

“You just called him your boyfriend,” Jun says. 

“Well… he is.” You feel your cheeks flush. “Why are you guys making it weird?” 

“It’s not weird,” Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s cute,” he whispers in your ear. “Adorable.” This only makes you flush even more. 

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just grab this and you two can get back to… whatever.” Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

“The book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!” Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice. 

“Hey, I followed through!” Soonyoung says. “We’re dating!” 

“I remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.” Jun turns to him. 

“And I did,” Soonyoung says. “You never said it had to be right after.” 

Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.” 

“That’s being a lawyer,” you say. “And I think he’s going to be really good at it.” 

Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll get my book back another day.” 

You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. “Are you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?” 

“You two don’t want to get back to what you were doing?” Jihoon asks. 

You slip your hand into Soonyoung’s. He meets your eyes and he’s only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. There’s no need to rush. 

“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to pick where we go.” 

“We should make them pay, too,” Soonyoung says. 

You grin at him. “You are the smartest person I know.” 

[mareastrorum]

An incredible amount of the Downfall discourse comes off as people trying to game the trolley problem instead of recognizing that there simply isn’t a right answer.

Everyone fucked up. This was a horrible situation that might have been prevented with more time, communication, empathy, all sorts of corrections. But it’s the trolley problem: what we have is a bunch of gods on one set of tracks and a far larger number of mortals on the other, and ultimately, the gods switched the track to kill mortals.

It wasn’t right. Of course, we could justify it—I’m a lawyer, and I could justify anything. That doesn’t change that it isn’t moral, good, or right.

“But the gods couldn’t kill their family.” Did we not watch C2, filled with shitty genetic families and centered around a group of found family idiots? Family only means what you want it to. Of course the gods could have killed their family. Half of them even wanted to! But the PCs chose not to.

“But the gods are gods, of course they should win.” Maybe it’s the grew-up-a-poor-minority-and-climbed-the-social-ladder in me, but I don’t see the virtue in an argument that those born into power deserve to make decisions about those who weren’t. One of the gods was already replaced by a mortal. Aeorians came up with methods to repel, suppress, contain, and kill gods. Seats of power change, and power doesn’t make someone right. It’s been incredibly surreal to see how many people think this is an acceptable argument.

“But if the gods die, they really die, and mortal souls are immortal.” While we know souls are immortal, the actual experience of the afterlife is a mystery. Is what Deanna described how it always is, or just in the particular plane where her soul ended up? Is it really immortality if the sense of self is lost and that soul is separated from all they loved in life? Similarly, we don’t know what typically happens when gods die because there isn’t a normal way for it to happen. Why were some gods’ names forgotten but they are remembered by the silhouette left behind? Why are other gods remembered like Ethedok and Vordo? We don’t know. Why are we belittling the fact that mortal death is an end while also arguing that it’s horrible how divine death is an end? They’re both ends! That’s a terrible thing to force on someone. It’s wrong.

The point of Downfall is that it was wrong to destroy Aeor. The Prime Deities thought so themselves. Of all the wrong choices, that was what they chose in the moment. They didn’t succeed because they were right; they were simply more powerful and outsmarted their opponents.

Downfall is a wonderful example of a story where the protagonists are not heroes. Bask in the mistakes and failures. Cry. Mourn. It’s a tragedy that every key character contributed to. It didn’t have to end this way. There’s blood on everyone’s hands. They’re all monsters. They’re all people. They were all trying to save something. No one realized they were in a corner until there was no way out but through.

The only correct argument about a moral high ground in this kind of story is that someone survived to stand over the corpses.

[n3felibata]

This is gonna be a hot take, but it bothers me when people say that Phoenix became an attorney JUST for Edgeworth.

Yes, Edgeworth is a big part of the reason he became a lawyer. Yes, Phoenix went to law school after finding out he's the "demon prosecutor" now. Hell, I'll even outright admit that Phoenix would not be an attorney if it weren't for Edgeworth.

But that's the only reason he stands in court. Goodness, no. It goes deeper than that, and it has a lot to do with Phoenix's depth and the overall message of Ace Attorney.

First of all, in the first few minutes of the very first game, Phoenix outright says that Larry is part of the reason he became a lawyer, too.

(Really, I feel like some of you are forgetting that Larry defended him that day as well...)

And second of all, there's the fact that he continues to be a lawyer in Justice for All despite thinking Edgeworth was dead for most of that game. And I have to admit it's been a while since I've played Justice For All, but I remember him defending his clients just as passionately as he does in any other game.

Edgeworth directly asks Phoenix in this same game why he stands in court, and Phoenix responds by saying this:

At least him saying in PWAA that he stood up for Maya because he "can't just abandon her" and "someone has to look out for people with no one on their side" is only one dialogue option out of three.

But telling Edgeworth he wants to save lives is the only answer the player can give to that question. Because it's the correct one. Phoenix Wright has a huge sense of justice, and it's a big part of his character.

This is why Phoenix hates prosecutors so much, or more specifically the ones that only stand in court to "win" rather than to actually seek the truth. And that's probably also why the writers continously make the antagonists of these games people who fit that exact description.

And yes, his backstory (or at least this specific part of it) may not be as traumatic as the other characters', but it doesn't need to be. This kind of stuff can seriously impact a child, especially when the teacher themselves in joining in on the bullying. His clients are going through worse, yes, but regardless, this experience taught him that people will assume the worst in you with little to no evidence and what it means to have someone believe in you when no one else will. He wants to be there for people going through worse than him, and that's valid. Not every character needs to be an orphan or rape victim or something to be an intriguing character with reasonable motivations and experiences that are meaningful to them.

Again, I'm not denying that Edgeworth is a huge part of why he went to law school (and thank goodness he did because I can't imagine what would've happened to Edgeworth if he never became an attorney...), but saying that Edgeworth is the ONLY factor feels like it's not only disacknowledging Phoenix's depth and reducing his character to just his relationship with Edgeworth, but also feels like it's disacknowledging the themes of justice in the writing of the game itself. Like no offense, but how did y'all manage to take what's clearly meant to be a satirical call out to Japan's flawed justice system and reduce it to just "yaoi"?

I LOVE wrightworth, but sometimes it feels like some people are so fixated on it that they forget that both Wright and Edgeworth are still their own complex individuals with depth outside of their relationship with each other.

[the-girl-lost-in-fandoms]

DEBUNK OF TIT FORSHADOWING

hello! i promised a recap and debrief of all the times dip and pip teased what happens in the terrible influence show, so here it goes, brace yourself 'cause it's gonna be a long one

GENERAL REMARKS

so i started with the videos posted during the summer, since they were rehearsing the show during that time. i might go further back if this post does well (they said they've been writing for six/seven months and they were already teasing during dan's birthday stream). anyway, there were some recurring hints that i'm gonna get out of the way now:

a LOT of emphasis on the fact that it's been nearly 15 years of dan and phil (cough cough, reminds me of phil's infamous inconsistant line about their anniversary coming up in octodecember, cough cough)

a lot of ancient lore being introduced by 'the year was 2009/2011/2015', which is generally reminiscent of the recap at the beginning of the show, and most are the actual years featured in that segment of the show

they acknowledged 'we are ph-', which they also use in the show i.e. the phouse, the phortgage, the pheal, the phitchen, etc.

they are SO aware of the moms/dads/straight boyfriends that we have forced dan and phil onto, they kept asking us to bring them and they acknowledge them several time in the show

DNP GOING AWAY Q&A (1st Sep.)

strong emphasis on the haitus (reminiscent of phil's dramatic haitus microphone moments)

say they might adress the japhan wedding conspiracy (which they do!)

the nude colored briefs (are for sister daniel)

at 2:45, phil says 'gay' and the rainbow light and sound effect happen just like in the show

dan mentions red flags (might be far fetched but reminded me of the green flags/red flags of lawyer!dan and doctor!phil)

phil says cunt (like in the show)

'no but seriously imagine it'

phil broke a rib during repetition of 'some kind of stunt event' (during the boxing/wrestling match)

they spent $300 on silicon for 'full body character transformation onesie' for 'a perfectly unsexual moment of the show' (read: phil wears fake abs while pretending not to have sex with dan on stage)

Dan: 'you're not a 365 party girl? terrible influence when you're bumping that?' (charli xcx is on the preshow playlist and it teases the terrible song)

reveal of the 'dan and phil made me gay' T-shirt, teasing of the sweatshirt and black tour T-shirt

DATE NIGHT WITH DNP (25th Aug.)

dan sings muder on the dancefloor (which is on the preshow playlist)

dan going 'ohmygod they SHARE CLOTHES' (one of the conspiracies addressed in the show)

WRITING PHAN FICTION ABOUT OURSELVES (19th Aug.)

it's a fill-in-the-blanks game, as they do multiples times in the show (okay, not really foreshadowing as they've done this in all of their shows, but i think it was a way to introduce this to the newer audience maybe)

MrBeast mention

DNP REACT TO TATINOF (16th Aug.)

phil: 'fall out boy! my chemical romance! the shipping had started!' (basically all the ingredients of the no seriously imagine it post)

'if we asked people to confess stuff now it would be so much worse' 'the tone might be different' & 'and if you come to our show, there might be a different tone' (so... confess your sins to sister daniel, need i say more)

#spon (which is now #ad in the terrible song)

'i went to see dan and phil and all i got was this lousy plate' (EXCUSE ME DAN??? he was basically spoiling the merch two weeks in advance) (this is the moment that inspired me this post btw)

dan 'professional hater' howell is now the one starting the song in tit

'imagine that but 2025. we're old. we're gay. phil can say fuck' (and indeed, he says fuck)

DNP PLAY DRESS TO IMPRESS (11th Aug.)

they wear the matching 'precious baby angel' t-shirts (same phrase used to describe phil in the show)

DNP DRESS EACH OTHER (14th July)

Phil: 'like two Kens playing with Kens' (i bet pj was crafting the little rooms and the little dolls at this point)

they both have mesh shirts as the main show outfits

'how booty are the shorts, dan?' 'i'm not gonna bend over in these things'.... except for the photocards that feature your ass in those shorts!

the two first look (emo!phil and beach!dan), the white cowboy hat, phil's blue and purple bomber jacket are all featured in the photocards sold at the show

DNP MASSIVE MUKBANG 2 (5th July)

'we've been doing this since 2009 and 2006 *excerpt from phil's first videoblog*' (that's literally the opening of the show)

'we reclaim what Dan and Phil is in 2024'

'we’re gonna look at what YouTube is like in 2024, how do we fit in, we’re gonna be taking shots at people'

'we’re gonna spill some things that would have sent you into cardiac arrest seven years ago' (2024-7=2017. so basically any of the conspiracies they adress from that time, like the tour bus, vegas, etc.)

'we’re gonna go full theater kids' (oooh teasing the musical number already)

'what do people want? Series mystery hunting, lifestyle cooking, real life, get a dog, domestic' (that's basically all the things they try on stage)

[kooldewd123]

I haven't been checking in with the wider Gravity Falls fandom since I've been trying to do a lot of my own analysis so forgive me if this is something that's already been discussed a lot, but this one thing in particular has been really sticking in my mind. Typing "gun" or "oh yes they both" into the terminal provides these two responses:

These are lyrics from the musical Chicago, specifically the song "We Both Reached For The Gun." Here's a clip of the song from the movie adaptation, for reference:

Two immediate things to note here. First, the scene uses heavy puppetry imagery, and the importance of that in relation to Bill should be obvious. And if that wasn't enough, the character actually doing the puppeteering is named Billy. Frankly, that could quite likely be where this reference begins and ends and everything I say from this point onward might be me overthinking this. This could simply be another joke response like "McGucket" just leading to the music video for Cotton Eyed Joe or "Gideon" giving a Google search for sweat resistant bolo ties. What makes this one seem different to me is that unlike those examples, it stays in the terminal and doesn't link to an external site. You wouldn't understand the joke without already knowing the song (honestly, I didn't understand it myself until the previously linked video coincidentally came up in my YouTube recommended feed a few days later), not to mention that the prompts to find it are entirely self-contained as well.

Digging into the song itself, it's a very interesting choice to reference here (Quick disclaimer: I haven't seen this musical before, and most of my research has been fairly cursory, so please correct me if I get something wrong). The context here is that Roxie (the girl being puppeteered) killed the man she was having an affair with when he tried to leave her. In this song, Billy, her lawyer, rewrites the story so that the man was instead a jealous ex threatening her life. Him and Roxie "both reached for the gun," and the murder was actually an act of self-defense. Because of this spin, the false story of Roxie being a sympathetic hero ends up overtaking the reality that she's just a vindictive killer. And the weirdest part is... this kinda mirrors Bill's backstory that we learn about in the Book of Bill? We never solidly find out the truth of what happened to Euclydia. What information we have is at best heavily biased and at worst outright censored. Did Bill truly want to help his dimension or is that just a justification he came up with after the fact? We don't know. We're the reporters in this song, the people who have nothing but the word of the perpetrator to go off of. And I... don't really know what conclusion to make of this. Like, the broad strokes of the two stories are very similar in their themes, but whenever I try to look at the details, they don't map onto each other as well as I'd like. Roxie seems much more unrepentant than Bill, and Bill seems much less, stable? i guess? than Roxie. I really feel like there might be something it's trying to say about Bill here, but whatever it is, it's eluding me.

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

♠️ What a day off of games with the aib males can look like. ♠️

A/N: Sorry, I've been absent for two days now, but for good reason. I wasn't feeling too well mentally and needed some time to myself because something happened that put me in quite a hole ... 🥲

Still, I've been thinking about what I could post here next, so I've prepared a few headcanons that define what I think a day off of games with the male characters might look like. 🙈

I hope that some of you are still around and will read through it. Feel free to let me know what you think about it or if you think any of them might have other interests! ✨

Characters: Aguni, Arisu, Chishiya, Karube & Niragi.

POV: gn!reader

Warnings: Not given.

A g u n i

It depends on what time we are in.

If the beach still exists, Aguni is often prevented from doing anything with you outside if he already occupies the number one spot.

You would have to live with the fact that you would hardly have any time just for the two of you, because someone from his troupe would always want something from him.

If he realises that this is bothering you - or he is annoyed by it himself - he will turn his boys away and say that they should leave him alone for the next 2 hours as far as possible because he has better things to do.

In general, no matter what time loop we are in, I would say that Aguni would adjust to your needs.

I have the following typical scenario in mind:

Aguni: "So there are no games waiting for us today. Any ideas what you want to do in our day off?" Y/N: "Uhm ..." Aguni: "Come on, you must have been in the mood for something." Y/N: "Yeah, but I really don't know for what I am in the mood for ..."

Nobody said it would be easy with you, but let's be honest: it's the Borderland, what excited yet relaxing things could you do here so far?

If you really don't know what you want to do, he would give some suggestions.

Aguni: "We could go to the pool." Y/N: "Too cloudy for my taste ..." Aguni: "We can do some sports together." Y/N: "Now your expectations are set far too high!" Aguni: "What about fishing?" Y/N: "Can't we just get some fresh air and go for a walk together?" Aguni: "..." Y/N: "..." Aguni: "You knew very well what you wanted to do, didn't you?" Y/N: "Without my lawyer, I won't say anything."

A r i s u

If you want to do something, then Arisu is definitely the right person.

The boy is always up for a lot of nonsense and fun activities.

This is probably also because he doesn't want to constantly think about the terrible circumstances that are happening here.

He has got used to life here, but living in constant fear doesn't get someone anywhere and only has a negative effect on oneself.

So, if he is being trapped in a world that could take his life sooner or later, he at least wants to live every day as if it were his last.

You will not regret spending time with him.

He comes up with the wildest ideas, starting with taking a closer look into the various broken buildings.

Of course, he would still be cautious of entering any places just like that- not that both of you suddenly find yourself in a game, because that's what you're trying to avoid today.

Y/N: "A-Are you sure we should do this, Arisu?" Arisu: "Nope, but you only live once, so let's check this building out- maybe we'll find some interesting things in here." Y/N: "Would you define 'corpses' as interesting ...?" Arisu: "Wow, you really managed to ruin my fun."

You still wouldn't be able to stop him.

Investigating the building would include lots of laughter and piggybacks when your feet get tired from all the walking over ruins and debris.

Eventually you find out that this building was a former arcade.

You can definitely pass the time well there.

Arisu: "Would you like a game of billiards?" Y/N: "I'm going to rip you off so bad, love."

C h i s h i y a

Listen, this boy is a damn lazy piece of shit.

When there aren't any duties don't expect him to do something special.

He has no problem putting his feet up for a day and literally doing nothing.

Feel honored if he spends his time with you at all.

No matter where you both would be, he would find ways to just doze off and relax while you - after all - lie in his arms and enjoy his closeness.

It's nice that he can do that, but you can't.

Y/N: "We've been lying around here all day." Chishiya: "Well realised." Y/N: "I'm bored." Chishiya: "Then do something."

He would definitely be a great help to you.

Jokes on you, no, he wouldn't.

Y/N: "But I wanna do something with you today since we have enough time finally." Chishiya: "We do something, darling." Y/N: "Idiot, that's not what I meant!"

Making you pout is one of his favorite things to do.

How could he be bored if you let him get on your nerves so easily?

In contrast to you, he has something to laugh about and something to amuse himself with.

Nevertheless, he would at least agree to a compromise:

Chishiya: "How about this? We'll use the time now to laze around and in the evening we'll take a look at the neighbourhood together and see which places are damned by games this time." Y/N: "We don't take part in any games, our visas count enough days for us." Chishiya: "Who said anything about taking part in a game?" Y/N: "So, if I let you lounge around now, you will promise me to stay up late with me?"

Damn, you love the nightlife.

Chishiya: "That's a deal."

K a r u b e

To me the funniest but most chaotic one.

During the day, at least.

I can well imagine that Karube and you had already planned the day ahead the evening before.

But what would life be like if everything went as planned?

The morning is pleasant. You wake up together and after a intense cuddle-round, you start your routine as usual.

Unfortunately, Karube realizes that he can't find something.

Something very important when it comes to following his routine.

Karube: "Honey, d'you know where my cigarettes are?" Y/N: "I don't know where you put them yesterday after you got ready for bed."

In the end, it all comes down to searching your whole accommodation for his cigarettes.

I mean, when you do smoke yourself, they can be important for you too ...

If not, well, then you are a very nice and good person!

Y/N: "Did you found them?" Karube: "I would have told you when that would be the case." Y/N: "Sure you didn't throw the box away because you smoked you last one yesterday evening?" Karube: "I know my pack of cigarettes inside out, there were at least three more in there."

You can guess where this is going.

You spend the whole forenoon looking for his damn cigarettes.

You turn the whole accommodation upside down.

Both of you look under every stone.

In every room.

Two times- minimum.

Y/N: "Karube, fave it, you don't have any- ... Darling ...? Karube: "What is it?" Y/N: "What's that in your pants pocket ... at the back of your butt?" Karube: "Uh-... Oh!"

Now he remebers ...

Karube: "You found them! That's right, I put them straight in my jeans yesterday so I couldn't forge- hey!" Y/N: "Yeah, I threw your boxer shorts at you!"

N i r a g i

Oh, my dearest reader-chan, please stay close to him no matter where he goes.

When he has nothing to do, he will go through the city streets looking for people to annoy.

He would look for trouble and find it- even if there's no reason for trouble, he'll just make it happen himself and find his reasons.

I don't know how, but at least you managed to stop him from taking his gun.

That's something you should be very proud of.

However, that doesn't stop him from doing anything and we know that.

So please. Stay. With. Him. Thank you!

In any case, you walk around the area together and check it out a little.

You'll talk about pretty trivial things every now and then, but that's still more pleasant than just talking to each other all the time.

When you meet someone, Niragi is ready to provoke them directly for no reason.

Thank god you had a firm hold on his hand or his arm so you could quickly drag him in another direction to avoid the innocent people.

Y/N: "Oh, look!"

Yes, you also like to pretend to see something that you would find interesting.

… In partially empty shop windows.

Niragi: "What the fuck should I look for?" Y/N: "See the rocks there?" Niragi: "You kidding me, right?"

The nice thing is that he would still look to something you tell him to look at.

There could actually be something interesting there.

Well, most of the times at least.

It's nearly impossible but who know?

Y/N: "OH, SEE WHAT I HAVE FOUND TH-" Niragi: "What is it this time? Another boring and ugly stone you think it's fascinating?" Y/N: "No ..." Niragi: "Oh, what is it this time then?" Y/N: "The tree there."

He will touch his nose and look at you angrily- but not without laughing afterwards at your amiable stupidity.

Damn, he loves you so much for what you are, he can't even be bothered.

[soleminisanction]

Issue 6 of "The Saga of the Super Sons" answers an important question: where the fuck has Dick been in this scenario?

Answer, apparently: At college.

Which is... where Bruce Junior is supposed to be. Bruce Junior, whose mother Bruce almost certainly met years after he took Dick in as a ward. Bruce Junior, who appears to be younger than Dick, but not by that much.

If you came at a Silver or Bronze Age writer with today's modern "but why is this character still 17" bullshit, I think they'd laugh directly in your face.

By the by, Dick is here because Bruce has been murdered.

I guess some things never change.

This does present an amusing comparison with the more modern takes on the subject like Prodigal/Knightfall, Gotham Knights (the game) and Battle for the Cowl, because here the boys treat Batman like something they expect to be left to one of them in Bruce's legal, actual will, like the one read out loud by his lawyer, implying the lawyer would be in on the whole secret identity thing.

When that obviously doesn't happen they come to an agreement to both... team up? But also compete? To find out who murdered Bruce, and whoever does the actual uncovering wins the cowl. This, for... reasons involves seal hunting in the Arctic and, ah... northern Native people. Which means a lot of use of a certain slur that all Natives in that biome used to (and still do) get lumped under, which I shall endeavor to write around but just know, there's a lot of it. Like, a lot. A loooooot.

Less awkwardly, check out what Dick Dillin apparently thought a killer whale looked like:

Hell, look at those mildly demonic black seals. I know this was pre-Internet dude but you could've gone to your local library. Or picked up a Seaworld ad.

Another thing that apparently never changes: Super-Sons comics insisting that only blood relatives count as "real" children.

To be fair, I wasn't actually expecting to see Dick referred to as Bruce's son at all in this. And Bruce Jr. is the only one who says this, and he's pretty consistently portrayed as the more immature and bratty one in this equation, so it doesn't really feel like the story is "agreeing" with him, it's just an interesting parallel.

Of course, because this is the 70s, they don't have any consideration for things like tactical costume changes or the realities of being mostly normal guys in the Arctic. So, though the boys arrive wearing sensible parkas, once they change into their superhero costumes Dick is just, snow shoeing through the tundra and water skiing behind a seal in his short sleeves and bare legs.

You'll probably be grateful to hear that the white industrial seal hunter is in fact the bad guy of this story -- this is actually one of the more cohesive stories in the saga so far in that regard. Simon Link was exploiting the land by killing too many seals, and then massacred part of the native village when they fought back trying to stop him, so this man Malook wanted to kill him. But, unable to find him and unable to get the white authorities to listen to him, he instead traveled to America to target his business partner, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Junior is appalled by the accusations but, interestingly, Dick is willing to hear the guy out. When Link's crime is exposed (with the help of the Supers Senior and Junior, natch), he tries to escape across the ice.... disguised as a seal... aaaaand...

Huh. Okay then. Justice is served, I guess.

Oh also Bruce Senior's still alive.

I mean... good on you for realizing the need to make amends for funding exploitative colonialism, Brucie-boy, but did you have to do it in a way that put your son through the exact same trauma you went through? Complete with the murder mystery dinner theater death scene?

Not to mention your poor wife, do you know how much shit you two have put her through in the last however long it's been?? Junior faked his death complete with a full funeral in the first issue of the saga and now you're doing the same thing! If you actually did marry Talia she'll gut you both the next time she sees you and probably Dick too just because she's never liked him.

Anyway, for a parting shot, check out the image they used to advertise this story on the cover, it's one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Beware the Ominous Pixie Boot!

[thelamentknight]

Fleur Mela Rossa 

18/Male 

French Italian

Gay

Pisces

Hometown is Fairest City

Twisted from Apple White

Pomefiore

3rd Year

Best Subject is Poison Making and Magical Potions

He’s in the Fashion Club

His Favorite Food is Cinnamon Apple Pie

His Least Favorite Food is Nasty-tasting Poisons

Dislikes Sloppy Lazy people

Hobbies include Drinking poisons, Shopping, Baking, Ballet, Watching Chick Flicks, Sketching, and scrolling through Shopping Websites for 5 hours

Talent: Posion Immunity

UM “Fairest in the Land”

Fleur’s UM is very similar to Jamil’s. When Fleur uses his UM, he can make others do his bidding. However, he can only use it on the same person 3 times, and the chances of the spell succeeding lowers with each time. Like, say he used it on Azul. After the first time, there’s only a 66% chance it’ll work again. And when it does work again, Fleur now only has a 33% chance of using it on Azul again and succeeding. And using it too much can cause Fleur to Overblot.

Fleur presents himself as delicate, gentle, and harmless, with a sugary sweet smile always on his face. This is all a facade though. In actuality, Fleur is cunning, calculating, and ruthless to those who cross him. He’s very intelligent, always two steps ahead in getting what he wants. He tends to use his seemingly innocent charm as a weapon to achieve his goals. He is very good at hiding how he truly feels.

Fleur is the son of very, VERY wealthy parents from Fairest City. His Mother is a controversial luxury fashion designer while his Father is an extremely busy lawyer. His parents went through a messy divorce, and Fleur was left in the care of his Mother. His Mother was an extremely harsh and strict helicopter parent, having high expectations on Fleur, wanted nothing but perfection, and almost always had something to nitpick. After the divorce, Fleur’s Father basically ghosted him and hasn’t bother contacting him.

Fun Facts:

+ Based on both regular Apple White and Evil Apple White (from the Spring Unsprung movie)

+ With how feminine Fleur is, he’s been mistaken for a woman several times

+ Perfectionist. Takes into account the littlest of details

+ Does not want something unless it looks cute

+ Has bumped into Vil and Neige several times at fancy social events and parties

+ Never late for things

+ Due to his very controversial Mother, he has been poisoned many times. It’s gotten to a point where he’s immune to them.

+ Likes experimenting with beauty related potions

+ Wears contacts

+ Has lots of Apple scented stuff (what can he say? He really likes Apples)

+ Has feelings for a certain RSA student (who I have not named yet)

+ Was in the Film Analysis Club before the Fashion Club was made

+ Has a poison k!nk 

+ VERY good at baking pastries

+ The mean girls in Chick Flicks are usually his favorite characters

+ Has a very long morning routine. Fleur and Cleophus give each other self care and beauty tips (they’re also Gossip Buddies)

+ Has very high As. Like, none of them are below 98

+ Casually has a case with little bottles of poison in his room

+ His closet is so big, the room next to his is filled with his clothes, shoes, accessories, and purses. Not even Vil has that big of a closet (at his Dorm room). Yes, he did pay Crowley to be able to do that. And the room is locked, with Fleur being the only one who can open it.

+ Deep down, he just really likes being a pretty princess

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #30

The Battle of Big Wand

Part 4 of reacting to this episode (spoiler-free)!

I LOVE that we get to see so much of Foop's spindly fingers in this episode. The way he wiggled his fingers was one of my favorite body language quirks back in the OG series. He's the same person...

Uh-oh... Dev's starting to have second thoughts now that people are getting hurt... And Irep doesn't like it...

I think it's REALLY funny that Irep's hair looks blue when he's in good lightning and black when he's in dim lighting. Not sure if that was intentional to mimic both his parents' hair and his old curl, but that's super clever if it was.

/record scratch. "So, you're probably wondering how we got here."

Irep remembering why he prefers working alone.

Fascinated by the choice to portray Irep tucking his hands behind his back. It seems to be his thing while his parents lean into the OG show's style of holding their hands like stubby chicken wings. I've been thinking that this whole episode... I have random memories sticking out to me from OG series; I'm gonna look it up.

- Oh, interesting... He does it in "Playdate" (dressed nice and trying to fool Cosmo and Wanda into believing he's rehabilitated after Abracatraz), "Love Triangle" (flirting with Goldie on the playground), "Timmy's Secret Wish" (bragging about being a lawyer), "Two and a Half Babies" (pretending to be a good boy for his teacher at the end so she'll let him go to summer camp), "Terrible Twosome" (swaying Poof to mess around and pull pranks), and maybe others, but that's enough looking. - I guess it's just his thing! That's cool; I don't think that was a gesture I paid much attention to in the OG, but he's done it a lot in New Wish. I think he's happy he lost his stubby arms.

I'm OBSESSED with Dev's realization that he and Irep aren't business partners if Irep doesn't listen to his feelings as a partner. He's gonna realize he didn't listen to Peri, and he's gonna want him back!! They're gonna work it out! ... Hopefully with a mediator!

I like how Dale went from 0 to 100 in paying attention to his son as soon as he realized Dev was capable of business deals. He's not being comforting, but he's interested in talking business.

Dale is one of the funniest characters I've ever seen in my life. Not necessarily for the things he says, but for the commitment to the bit.

His swagless looks, nonexistent charm, and extreme amounts of oddly specific lemonade trauma have captivated me. I desperately want to look at him and say "Huh?? Who invited THIS guy??"

Hands down favorite part of Dale's design is the enormous puffer jacket he wears despite the fact it's obvious he's still super scrawny. But I also like how his child design ALSO has the exhausted lines under his eyes in "Nectar of the Odds," which I'd just assumed were invented for adult Dale until I took another look. Also, on some bizarre level, I feel like Dale has actually recovered remarkably well for a guy who spent 7 years tormented underground in servitude? Is he generous with his money? No. Does he have friends? No. Is he kind to his son? No. Is he capable of resting between projects or just taking breaks in general? Also no. Can he handle people messing with his schedule? Absolutely not. Is he keeping tabs on his abuser to ensure she doesn't wreck his or his son's life? Nope. But does his hard work bring him happiness? ... I don't know :'D But he's good at getting things done when he sets his mind to it, he can host a killer event, he's heavily implied to have amazing robotics skills, and he has insanely quick turnaround on his marketing plans, so he's got that going for him. -> Dale will look at stuff and say "Is anybody gonna hyperfixate on that?" and not wait for an answer. "Self-made" lemonade boy, my beloved... If we get a huge plot twist that Dale is the creator of the Vicky-themed robot babysitters from the "Channel Chasers" epilogue, would that be nuts or what? Me: Wait, what are all the symptoms of hyperfixation again? Lemme look this up... Me: Me: ... Good to know! (It was all of them. All of them are the symptoms)

The Dale ramble I wrote here got so long that I moved it to its own post. I hope you like my shirtless "Dale bad at being on his honeymoon" doodles <3

I'm glad Dale seems like he's doing okay and that Dev didn't bug him with lemons (or throw him down in the dark pit that swings shut from the top, even though that would've been so easy). I think I was right in that I'm probably making a bigger deal out of his backstory than the show intended, but I think it's hilarious.

I do have a history of going for characters who give me "Okay, but where else can I ever get this character / this dynamic?" energy. He's one heckuva guy. I need to put him in a 'fic and shake him up and down like a snow globe. I desperately want him to find out he accidentally hired his abuser to babysit his kid. I hope it was an accident, because if he's kept her number in his contact list, I'm gonna have a talk with him.

I wish we'd see Dale doing "angry at Hazel" stuff. I'm confused as to what the purpose of it was... Are we not going to touch on that in the finale? Was it just to upset Dev, but not vital enough to follow through with as an actual plot point? hm.

-> ?? I feel like it was a big deal in at least two episodes leading up to this big finale plot, so I'm just... surprised? Hm.

I guess I'm not really bothered because I don't think Dale knows Hazel came to Fairy World or that she'll appear again, and I understand why his attention is diverted, but it'd be fun (for me).

Also, this is our second time being robbed of a Dev-Irep sleepover D:

omfg, Irep ditching Dev for Dale is the funniest thing ever.

oh no.

Alone again...

sdlkfj, Wanda has spent this entire series taking shots at Dev because she thinks he's a bitter bully and she kept saying things to Peri like "Blink twice if you need help getting out of here."

I remember posting years ago about how I like to think Cosmo's really good at reading people (especially when it comes to distracting them, like encouraging Jorgen to "scramble the Fairies" in "Abra-catastrophe" before he can separate them from Timmy).

So... I really enjoy that he senses Wanda's going too far and might lose any chance of Dev helping, and he tries to stop her.

oh no... I like how when Wanda is telling Dev about dying from magical back-up and she uses the example of a fairy feeling queasy and needing to use the bathroom and then they explode...

... because that's how the Grim Reaper told Foop he'd die back in "Man's Worst Friend" ("Oh, this is fun! You're gonna perish on the toilet!"), and I've been thinking about it ever since I saw Peri dying on the floor.

I headcanon them dying young, but not THIS young!! /jk

Wanda, I have good news for you! I'm pretty sure that guy you think is dead isn't dead. Pretty sure I saw him when I took my screenshots of Anti-Fairies taking over Earth and (ironically) the memorial scene at Fairy Con.

Irep when the alarm goes off cracks me up. There's no point in posting the screenshot because he's tiny and blurry, but he's so spooked. His eyes take up his entire face. RIP overly sensitive bat ears and weak bat eyes.

Oooh, Jasmine singing is going to do something. Are the Anti-Fairies going to enjoy it despite other characters thinking she sings poorly?

Yes. lol. I was going to theorize in my 2nd post for this episode about whether Irep is still really affected by music, but I didn't bother because I was like "I can't imagine that would come up."

oh no, he is. Not enthusiastically... but he is. Love that for him. This kid's always loved to dance and play loud music. Never change.

oh no!!! They're exploiting Irep's one true weakness...

Diversity win!! The genderfluid bisexual has a gender-neutral response for nonbinary folks he thinks have bad boy energy!!

sdlfjk, I think Irep just found the person he most wants to godparent for. Ever.

I checked "Certifiable Super Sitter" again just in case I missed a bad boy joke, and I totally forgot Sammy screams "Break Vicky like a 2 x 4!" at the top of his lungs while he mimes snapping her neck. He's so funny. I love him. I wonder if Foop ever told Sammy about his "Scary Godcouple" trauma and if Sammy was extra ruffled about Vicky because of that.

Peri: I don't understand what you see in Sammy. He's so... mild. Irep: Not after I talk to him ❤️

okay, nerd.

......... Did Foop have a crush on Goldie back in "Love Triangle" because she has major femme fatale energy?? Discuss.

omg, just realized the reason why Irep's single eyelash felt so familiar to me is because that's how he looked in "Blue Angel." Absolutely hilarious that when he opts for a feminine disguise, he has fewer eyelashes than usual.

- Poof and Foop had 3 eyelashes per eye when they were young, but Peri's lost those, and Anti-Cosmo doesn't show lashes. Jorgen's New Wish eyes don't either (Jorgen wore mascara in the OG series) and neither do Cosmo's (Cosmo also liked make-up) - I ?? have to assume that means Irep is deliberately going for a more femme, nonbinary, or genderfluid vibe of some kind, which is perfect for me! His gender identity is one of his plot points in the 130 Prompts. - Can't believe all those years ago, I clocked Poof as growing up to be "the one suppressing trauma with candy and soda" and Foop as "the one who plays with gender expression" ... I know it's not stated by canon, but you get me...

??? I like how Anti-Wanda seems to be teaching Anti-Cosmo how to make his eyes look in different directions and he's loving it? Unclear.

I also like how with his accent, it sounds like he's saying "Hazel-y," which is cute. I like how he made the effort to find out her name; that's 100% in-character.

They are doing their best!! (They are not)

I like that when confused, Anti-Cosmo's instinct was to turn to Anti-Wanda for advice. That's new for him considering he used to shake her and scream. I'm glad they worked that out. And I'm glad he's exactly as "extinct by instinct" as he's always been <3

Apparently Irep (or at least Foop) gets the "spelling out unnecessary details" bit of his dialogue from his mom??

Like, monologuing important info is one thing, but in the OG series, Foop elaborates on things for no reason, like Anti-Wanda here. lol.

I was kind of worried about the direction Anti-Wanda's reboot might go. I believe what I said was, "I'd be interested to see her redesigned with new clothes and with a reduction on the "Anti-Wanda's stupid" angle in favor of mirroring Wanda better (owing to how I've always felt she was a hasty design slapped down in Season 2 and then they couldn't go back on it when Wanda's character developed further). Anti-Wanda's hit every mark I was hoping for in a rebooted design for her. She's still Southern and goofy, but she's not being played as stupid... She and Anti-Cosmo are equally silly and equally dumb and messing around <3

sdlkfj, Anti-Cosmo out here like "This isn't my party, so I'm down to follow my wife's suggestion that we slip from the room together."

Okay, other nerd; I'm glad you're excited to be alone with your hot wife as you definitely try to catch a real human running around.

ALSO very in character; man LOVES forgetting what he's doing and wandering around!! That's his thing!!!

Me out here like "Oh yeah, now I remember why I wrote a 'fic where no one looked for the captured Anti-Cosmo for 77k years because his family totally thought he'd gone wandering and dissociated and started a new life... oh no.

[oodlyenough]

i've started on the last case of aa6 now (dlc notwithstanding) and i have to say on the whole i've found 456 sort of... increasingly sexist in ways that really grate on me. it's not like the original trilogy was perfect, and it certainly had places where it showed its age and/or jokes that i found unbearable and, well, one major and well-beloved character whose entire plotline i found pretty misogynist ...

but the fey family story really ensured that the core plot constantly had a variety of women of different ages and personalities with motivations and relationships relating to each other and the plot, etc. even the basic fact that phoenix's beloved mentor he aspires to be like was a woman meant a lot

many of the games since it feels like they're operating on a sort of one-woman-in-one-woman-out policy. trucy gets tossed aside for athena in aa5 and then in 6 they're both left in the dust. it's especially frustrating in 6 that they're choosing to expand on kurain, canonically in the trilogy a matriarchal village with few men *specifically* because women had more social power... by inventing khurain and introducing a whole host of men in significant roles. then we have a whole sidequest case in 6-4 where athena, the only playable woman, does her irrelevant little sidequest where she dreams of one day being a lawyer as good as miscellaneous men. again it's not that i thought the original games were a major feminist triumph, but i was pleasantly surprised playing them 25 years later and finding them much better than i expected in that regard. now i'm in the newer games and it feels like steps back and more condescension.

also while i don't expect the ending to change my opinion, no spoilers for the rest of aa6 please

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

sooooooooooo for the NRC family day interactions, i'm curious to see what would happen if riddle and step-dad ashengrotto met in the wild, because riddle has expressed that recently he's gotten interested in law. it would b cool for him to chat with the canon lawyer who taught azul about laws n contracts.

plus the whole, riddle being unsure actually because his whole life his parents had plans for him and planned for him on becoming a healer like them, but now he's interested in something else. n while i kno he reads about law, it would give him a lot of insight to actually, speak to someone who does this for a living, who maybe even suggests ideas of finding a way to combine both medicine and law, like medical law (branch of law) or medical jurisprudence (branch of medicine).

and other stuff too.

idk i just think a conversation between the two could be interesting, even outside of like, riddle's own interest in law; like another interesting thing would b his whole, family/homelife situation & the fact that riddle hints that his parents don't really get along that well + knowing that step-dad ashengrotto met mama ashengrotto while she was filing for divorce... just lots of ideas in me brain i think.

idk hopefully this isn't unintelligible sdfjsdklfd thank youuuuuuu

Thank you for submitting this really interesting idea ^^ This one is really long compared to the others, so I slapped a cut in to make scrolling by easier. This fic borrows ideas from a theory that I talked about a few days ago?

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this before, but I think it's cool that Azul not only has a stepdad, but actually gets along with him. Rarely do I see divorce portrayed as a positive thing (I mean, how often do we see wicked stepparents or a child that refuses to accept the stepparent), so Azul's family was really refreshing to see.

Not me taking inspiration from the divorce lawyer in Enchanted and various characters from Ace Attorney for stepdaddy Ashengrotto—

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The cafeteria was packed, and the ghost chefs were working overtime to feed the influx of hungry guests. Staff, students, and their family members had been coming in and out throughout the day, leaving not many tables open and the food line long. Some had taken to sitting cross-legged on the floor or spilling out into the hallway to make space for new arrivals.

One look at the gaggle of people along the walls and on the ground, and Mrs. Rosehearts had turned up her nose. "I won't have you sitting like a barbarian, Riddle. We'll find you a proper seat. Look, there’s one now. You sit—I’ll see what they have available on the menu and fetch you an appropriate meal.”

“Yes, mother.”

Riddle shifted uncomfortably at a cramped table. He dared not falter in his posture. Back straight, head high, hands neatly folded in his lap. He was a rose among those deemed the weeds called riffraff.

… It’s noisy, Riddle noted.

Indeed, it was. The cafeteria buzzed with activity, students exchanging chatter and laughter with their loved ones. Sharing bites of food and stories, nourishing their bellies and their souls.

A memory clad in flowers filled his mind.

“Riddle!”

He was back in the Heartslabyul gardens, colorful decorations and card soldiers in every direction. Flamingos and hedgehogs at the ready, the roses painted red, a dormouse in the tea pot. Cakes, tarts, and finger sandwiches sliced up and served with tea.

Ace and Deuce were arguing over something silly again. By the sumptuous spread of snacks, Cater was snagging pictures before so much as a bite. In the memory, Riddle made to tell them off, only to be stopped by the vice dorm leader at his side.

“They have so much energy,” Trey had remarked. “It’s livelier than usual today.”

Yes, that was the right word for it. Not noisy, but lively.

How curious that dining at Night Raven College is like this. At home…

There was a lone platter set for him, a sad, limp little square of food in the center. His mother, arms folded, to the right. His father, trembling in his chair, to the lift. Raised voices and scathing remarks.

Some days the dining room was empty altogether, save for himself and stacks of textbooks. When he did crossword puzzles and sudoku, the vocabulary and the numbers kept him company.

His heart twinged. Riddle frowned and curled a hand over his chest, as if trying to soothe the pain.

What is this? Why… do I feel this way?

"Excuse me, young man."

He jolted upright.

An older gentleman in glasses was beside him. His hair, peppered with streaks of white, was neat, and he was dressed in an even neater suit. He smelled like salt wrapped in a sea breeze, faint citrus and sunshine.

The stranger gestured to the spot beside Riddle. “Pardon me if I disturbed your train of thought. I wanted to ask if this seat was taken. I need a quick place to rest my legs, then I’ll be out of your way.”

Riddle took a quick glance at the line—which still snaked around the room, but at least his mother had vanished from view. Relief. “It’s open. Please, sit.”

“Thank you.” The man slipped in next to Riddle. He sighed, just as relieved as the boy was. “Much appreciated. I hope I’m not stealing this seat from one of your parents.”

“Not to worry, sir. Only my mother is with me today, and it seems like it will be quite a while before she returns," Riddle reassured him. “My father is preoccupied with work, so he was unable to attend."

It was partially true. Whenever possible, his parents actively avoided each other. Strategically taking specific hospital shifts just so happened to be a means to that end.

"I'm here with my wife and son myself, they're perusing the food. A shame about your father. Really. Perhaps he'll be able to attend next year."

"Perhaps."

Riddle hoped not.

He looked away, dodging the man's eyes. Fearing that his own would betray him.

A glint of gold snagged his sight, and Riddle's heart leapt. Pinned to the stranger's lapel was a small pin depicting the scales of justice.

The man took notice. "I see you've spotted my bar association badge."

"You're a lawyer, sir?" Riddle's question came out small.

"That's right." He tilted his head to one side. His smile was slight, yet encouraging. "Might you have an interest in law, young man?"

"Ah, well..." Riddle instinctively looked to the line again before his gaze darted back to his conversational partner. "Y-Yes, I suppose you could say that. However, I'm aware that it is a big commitment, and I have already resolved to pursue magical medicine."

"A career like that can be fulfilling as well," the man said kindly. "I have colleagues that specialize in medical malpractice and negligence. We also sometimes work with forensic scientists for certain cases.

"There is most certainly crossover between the legal and healthcare sectors. You could consider looking into those fields as a middle ground between your two interests."

Riddle blinked.

"Did I overstep my bounds?"

"No, I just..." Hesitation. "I'm not used to speaking like this."

"About your future?"

No, Riddle wanted to correct him, it's being given advice and suggestions, rather than expectations and orders.

"About straying from the path," he said, a quick half-truth. "It's difficult to compromise, even if the options exist out there."

"Hmm." The man nodded understandingly. "Changing course can be scary, yes. I don't fault you for thinking that way. If it would help in any way, you are free to ask me questions about my own experience. I'm no medical lawyer, but hearing it from the horse's mouth has helped some of my clients before."

"You would offer such a thing...?"

The man's eyes shone with the trace of a contained laugh. "I don't charge for the first consultation," he joked.

"Then..." Hope crept into Riddle's voice. "Could you tell me about your own specialization?"

"My firm mainly deals with cases of divorce."

Divorce.

The word was bitter on Riddle's tongue as he swallowed it. But the lawyer spoke it with such ease, like it was nothing more than the weather forecast for the day.

Divorce, divorce.

It had always been an option for Riddle's parents since the first problems had started between them, but never seriously considered, never discussed. His mother would sooner die than confess she was anything but right, that she had made the mistake of choosing the wrong man. And what would the community think? What would they say?

As a child most foolish, Riddle had prayed to the Queen of Hearts to share her secret to a successful marriage. No answer ever came, and it was then that he realized: divorce was never in the cards for his parents.

The man carefully took in Riddle's frozen expression. "It happens. I see it a lot in my line of work—and it is one hundred percent normal. People are like castles in the sand, you see. They change, their feelings change. They fall out of love. Part of my job is to ensure that the separation occurs smoothly.

"There is stigma attached to the concept of divorce, that it ruins families and brings them great shame. But sometimes a family is better apart than together, and they can find new happiness once they've picked up the pieces. Cutting ties can be the most liberating feeling in the entire world.

"I speak from experience myself. I met a lovely, bright-minded woman while she was going through her own divorce proceedings. Now that woman is my wife, and her son, my own."

Riddle's brows knitted. Disbelief and confusion crowned his features. "It almost sounds like a fairy tale. Can such a drastic change truly lead to happiness?"

"For me, it did. It may not be the case for you, because you and I are different people."

"Th-Then tell me!!" Riddle stood, slamming his hands on the table. Food and silverware rattled, people stared. He didn't care, his volume spiking. "How? How do I do that...? Please tell me. I don't... I don't know how to do it myself."

"That, I cannot say."

"Why not?! You... You said you would help me!"

"I did say that, didn't I? I said I would help you by talking about my own experiences. Tricky thing, wording. It's easy to overlook the fine print." The man pointed at him. "The rest is in your hands."

"I can't do a single thing," Riddle protested. It felt like roses were choking him. "My hands are tied. My path was determined a long time ago. Change is absolutely unacceptable."

The lawyer regarded him coolly. "Let me tell you something, young man. The law is the law because there is a human element to it, no matter how impartial, how black and white, we try to be. We write the laws, act on them, and interpret them. Likewise, you, too, are responsible for that interpretation.

"What is right, what is wrong, and what role you must play therein... these are things you alone determine, whether that be in career, in love, or in life. You are your own judge, and the decider of your own destiny. It is something only you are capable of, and no one else but you."

Riddle reeled his head, reacting as though he'd just been decked.

Right and wrong... The role I must play... Something only I can do?

Someone had told him something similar not too long ago. The words harsher then, and paired with a sound punch to the face.

"Is that all you are?!" Ace had demanded, fist clenched, still raw from making contact with his dorm leader's cheek. "An extension of your mom? Can't you think for yourself?"

The twinge to his chest had returned. Stronger, sharper. Like thorns tearing into his skin.

"... I see," Riddle said slowly. "I think I understand it a little better now."

"I'm glad to hear it." The man's smile broadened. He looked at something beyond Riddle, then rose from his seat. "Well, if you'll excuse me... It seems my family has finished their business. We should get going now."

"Of course. Thank you very much for speaking with me, sir." He humbly lowered his head to the man,

A voice came from behind the redhead. "Oya, what a surprise. If it isn't Riddle-san."

He immediately bolted up in horror. The dorm leader of Octavinelle stood before him, lips cocked into a smirk. A woman with the same silvery hair was next to him, cut in a sleek black gown and with seashells in her jewelry.

"Wha--?! Azul...?! What are you..." Riddle faltered with both his words and his calm.

"Oh? Is it a crime to come collect one's stepfather?" The merman sighed dramatically. "I was going to come over sooner, you know—but it looked as though you two were having quite the engaging conversation. I thought it rude to interrupt and cut it short."

Riddle's head whipped back to the lawyer. "Th-This is your stepfather?!"

"Azul, I didn't realize this lad was your friend. We were just having a nice talk about career goals."

"Career goals, you say? My, that sounds so interesting." There was something unsavory, slimy even, about the way Azul emphasized his interest. "I'm jealous, Riddle-san. We've shared our dreams with one another before, but never on such an intimate level."

"And just who in their right mind do you think would willingly divulge that information to you? Don't act as though we're friends."

Azul smiled wryly. "Aren't we? After all, we've been through both hell and high water together."

"It sounds to me like you boys are good chums," Mr. Ashengrotto remarked, exchanging raised eyebrows with his wife, "though you certainly have a strange way of showing it."

"Why haven't you told us about him, Azul?" his mother asked. "I'd love to have him over for dinner."

"Riddle-san can be surprisingly shy. I wouldn't wish to cast a spotlight on him."

"Who's shy here?! All you've been doing since you showed up is put me on the spot!"

Mrs. Ashengrotto put a hand over her mouth, stifling a chuckle. “If you visit us, Azul could invite his other friends—do you know them? The Leech twins. You could all get to know each other, and that could help you get out of your shell.”

“N-No thank you, ma’am!!” Riddle said (perhaps a little too loudly, and too quickly). The farther away I stay from those sketchy brothers, the better!! I wouldn’t be caught dead trying to cozy up to them!

“No? Maybe another time then. The offer is always there. Come to us when you're comfortable with it, dear.

"I guarantee you won't regret it," Mr. Ashengrotto chimed in. "She makes the best food I've ever had under the sea. Azul could pack away an entire bucket of her fried..."

Azul loudly cleared his throat. "While this chat has been amusing, I believe it's time we stopped hounding the poor, unfortunate soul and moved to the next item on our itinerary. I'm sure that Riddle-san is busy with his own matters as well."

"Yes, my mother will be back soon with lunch."

"That so? We'll be on our way then. Wouldn't want to disrupt your time together." Mr. Ashengrotto tenderly squeezed his wife's arm. His other hand found its way onto Azul's shoulder. "Have a happy Family Day, Riddle."

"Happy family day to you too."

With that, Azul and his parents departed. Their mouths moved, their expressions changed, playing off of one another. Saying things Riddle couldn't hear, nor understand even if he could hear.

The rose-red ruler, entrenched in a sea of people, was left with many thoughts racing through his head. Those gathered in the cafeteria, Heartslabyul, the Ashengrottos...

One question lingered like the last vestiges of sunlight on a lazy summer day.

Are these... what families are meant to be like?

[vivaciousoceans]

My UPDATED Law & Order: SVU A.D.A ranking:

Last time my criteria was 1) Whatever ADA I could remember and 2) Who ever I liked more. This time I’m going to be a little more objective (just barely). I will be judging off of 1) Tenure 2) Conviction Rate 3) Likeability and 4) Legacy, not in any particular order of importance.

15: Michael Cutter - He was from the mother show which I didn’t watch, and he’s very unmemorable in SVU because he only appeared in 4 episodes. I do remember him only getting moved to Sex Crimes as a punishment for lying about having a bachelors degree to both the DA’s office and the New York bar, but of course he didn’t get disbarred.

14: Sherri West - She was a decent prosecutor, she never did anything explicitly wrong. She just wasn’t particularly memorable, except for the fact that she stopped being a prosecutor in order to have more money for her "shoe fetish", which is just odd, in my opinion. She only appeared in 4 episodes as and ADA, so that’s why she gets second to last place.

13: Mikka Von - She was so fine I wish I could put her higher. She only appeared in one episode, but she won her case by being crafty. Her little flirtation with Fin was cute, Fin deserves some eye candy after dealing with the tension between Benson and Stabler for years. I wish she’d gotten a few more episodes to really cement a legacy for herself, but alas.

12: Kim Greylek - If she had appeared in more than 13 episodes, I would be willing to put her higher because she had the makings of a great A.D.A. She had the experience working with abused women, she was tough, but she wasn’t likeable in the slightest. I think she felt like she had to be this ball buster because of what happened to Casey after working with SVU, but she was just rude. She even threw shade at Casey, which was just not a good look.

11: David Haden - The dilf who chose his job over a relationship with Olivia Benson. He was like one of the finest men Liv allowed herself to date, and he broke it off with her for a job he resigned from a year later. The only reason he isn’t lower is because he was a decent attorney. He only appeared in 4 episodes though.

10: Peter Stone - Where do I start with Peter? Well 1) He tried to convict Rafael Barba, 2) He tried to play daddy to Noah, and 3) He plagiarized Barba’s whole exit after only knowing Liv for what? Two years? He wasn’t a bad lawyer, he was actually decent, he just went through a lot of personal stuff, and he wasn’t as willing as other ADA’s to do what needed to be done in a unit like SVU. I’m reserving the right to be biased towards him, despite everything he went through.

9: Abbie Carmichael - She was also from the mother show, which again I didn’t watch. She’s only this high because she didn’t do anything egregious, worked well with the detectives, and Angie Harmon is pretty. She only appeared in 4 episodes.

8: Jo Marlowe - Stablers ex-partner, played by the incomparable Sharon Stone. Part of the reason she is so high is because of her legacy, she just came in and had such a strong backstory which we don’t get a lot for ADA’s. She also alluded to having an affair with Elliot, which makes me especially happy because I don’t like Elliot. She was only in 4 episodes, but she delivered in every scene.

7: Gillian Hardwicke - I didn’t put her on my last ranking list which was just an oversight on my part. She was a really good prosecutor, and that wasn’t easy for the cases she tried. She had a 92% conviction rate and kept being handed cases that were complicated. Her empathy for the victims, and her drive for justice was refreshing. I enjoyed her short, 10 episode long run.

6: Sonya Paxton - I am a Sonya Paxton stan. She had her issues, with alcoholism, being a pain in the ass, but she wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe with Elliot Stabler. I hated her death, I wish she would’ve had more than 7 episodes, but I truly think that dying so a victim could receive justice, was the best send off for her character. That’s a legacy that can’t be easily forgotten, which is why she’s so high.

5: Dominick Carisi Jr. - Detective Sonny was my sweet baby angel, but I haven’t watched many seasons where he was ADA, and what I did watch left much to be desired. That being said, his experience at SVU, combined with his mentorship from Rafael Barba, makes him an empathetic prosecutor with great courtroom presence.

4: Elizabeth Donnelly - Coming in at number 4, Liz is a force to be reckoned with. She mentored Alex Cabot and to a certain extent Casey Novak. She fought her way to the top after experiencing a major setback as a woman attorney, that could’ve very easily ruined her career. She was empathetic when she needed to be, tougher when she didn’t need to be. She was a great supervisor and her legacy can’t be forgotten.

3: Alexandra Cabot - Her legacy, her conviction rate, her likeablity, her chemistry with the detectives, none of it can be denied. She was the first permanent ADA and is still a fan favorite for many. She’s strong in her convictions, she’s strong in her values, even if that means bending the law to get true justice. Alex just is that girl in all areas of life, and the only reason she’s at number 3 is because she leaned on her nepotism a little.

2: Rafael Barba - A feminist icon, a political landmine, and the smuggest ADA to exist. He took the cases that no one would touch with a 10-foot pole, and even if he didn’t win them, he made a difference. If he was a real lawyer, he would be studied for his impact on case law. He is very theatrical in court, especially when it comes to cross examinations, he is a shark when it comes to closing statements. He was the longest serving ADA SVU ever had and that takes big brass ego. He knew the law like the back of his hand, and talked a mile a minute, what more could you want? The only reason he’s number 2 is because of his conviction rate.

1: Casey Novak - She was insane, unhinged and insane. There’s no other way to describe her run as a prosecutor. She took on major political cases only to seek justice. She went after a sitting judge, the US Military, and pharmaceutical companies. She was empathetic and sympathetic when she felt like she wasn’t on the side of justice. She had no qualms throwing cases where she knew her win would be the opposite of justice, and she risked disbarment to get justice for a victim. I can truly say she deserves this number 1 spot because of her conviction rate, her legacy, tenure, and likeability.

[allwormdiet]

Agitation 3.11

The problems involving this motherfucking bank are no longer limited to the exterior of said motherfucking bank

It has to be fucking alarming for your power to stop working for you when you're so used to it as a part of yourself. Can't even imagine.

God the tension here is good. Amy's not much of a fighter, sure, not even compared to Taylor, but Taylor's making her feel like she's dying rn

Do people really paint Amy as some kind of suffering angel? Like I get that she's suffered, sure, she's a parahuman and the least-favorite child of New Wave and yadda yadda, but she's fucking mean. And honestly between her and her sister I get the impression that New Wave is uhh, not too big on treating criminals like they have human rights? Which isn't at all concerning when one of them is a lawyer.

...Man how do I get worse vibes off of New Wave than the Protectorate, I'm basically never on the side of government superheroes

You can't fool me Victoria Dallon, I know you practiced that landing

Also Jesus that's a lot of damage, couldn't you have just gone through one of the windows that broke already? Kid Win made that hole for nothing.

I know Amy doesn't do this (yet) but the fact that this is the first thing she threatens to do to a villain with a knife to her throat is fucking insane

Are the Dallons actually trained in hostage negotiation and conflict de-escalation? I hope they're not because otherwise I'd have a lot of really pressing and mean questions for their trainers

Also fucked up that Amy's threats involve destroying Taylor's sense of taste, giving her fatal diseases, or *checks notes* making her really really fat, what the hell girl

Hey Tattletale, love you Tattletale, please for the love of god be careful Tattletale

So people have written Tattletale and Glory Girl punching each other with their lips, right? If I'm picking up on some kismesis vibes there's no way other people haven't picked up kismesis vibes

(Sit. Stay. Good girl. Oh my god.)

Interesting that Tattletale seems willing to call Amy's bluff here, though I'm not sure how safe that is

Tattletale: you should know better than to make me monologue about something that'll help you

Glory Girl: yeah I know

Tattletale: but I'm gonna answer your question anyhow

Glory Girl:

Victoria continues to be a huge fucking nerd

Tattletale continues to be outrageously smug and also, tbh, isn't entirely wrong about the expectations of superpowers. She's lying like a rug of course but how should they know that?

Clever! And fucked up. And remarkably powerful on Amy's part, like holy shit. As if the cancer threat wasn't bad enough.

And all the while Tattletale is fucking up Panacea's play with nothing but a laser pointer, with GG too distracted by proving her wrong to realize it

Victoria what the fuck

I'm gonna try to be generous and chalk this up to being written in 2011, but hollllly shit this doesn't reflect well on the character or author

Current Thoughts

Okay so I'm not gonna dwell on the slur, much as I'd love to, let's just leave that one on the side

I find it fascinating that GG considers New Wave immune to the threat of dirty secrets, especially the part about "full transparency." We just saw her nearly kill a suspect on accident and then guilt trip Panacea into healing her to prevent a black mark on the team's record. Like maybe she theoretically believes that stuff as long as she doesn't think too hard about it, but this is absolutely hypocrisy on her part

Victoria and Amy both are just. Really showing their best selves in this arc. I'm not going to act like they're both monsters, they're not. As previously mentioned, they're teenagers in an extremely high-stress situation. Amy's got a knife to her throat and Victoria is extremely protective of her sister and they're facing down two relatively unknown villains on their own

...which I think just points more to the fact that they shouldn't be in this situation to begin with. Amy obviously didn't have much say about whether she'd be a hostage but she definitely didn't have to pick a fight with the villains who had lethally venomous spiders on all the hostages. Victoria, on the other hand, absolutely did not think about what she was doing before doing it, and punched a hole in the roof of what's probably an expensive-ass building in the doing. Is she gonna pay for that? Her millionaire boyfriend?

Next time: Tattletale proves she's the most dangerous Undersider, and nobody regrets this at all

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

Ever heard the ‘Foolish and Bad are divorced’ theory? Here’s totally what happened.

Bad probably lost one of his lovers, and it happened to coincide with Foolish losing one of his lovers, and usually what happens is they seek each other out and cry about it (well Bad cries, Foolish makes a bunch of really sad and deprecating jokes because humor is his coping mechanism).

Well when the coincidence happens, they both end up finding each other and just, venting about mortals and how immortality sucks sometimes, until Bad is like, “gosh darn it Foolish I can’t go through this again. Can you just marry me so we can find love together and not get love-trapped by stupid mortals again?”

(I’m aware the words are out of character but if it was in character the amount of dodging and implying would take up several paragraphs and I’m not doing that)

And Foolish laughs and is like “Aaa fuck it. Might as well try I guess, your stupid ass is the only one who doesn’t leave anyways”

It’s very unofficial, they don’t go to a church or anything, and their rings are just mismatched random rings that Bad stole, but they both have weird and mixed feelings about this.

Bad says he’s sure they’ll love each other eventually (I hc him as demiromantic because it’s on the spectrum and because also that’s me too so yippee)

It takes a day or too before Foolish can’t take it any longer. Not only is it too soon, but when he takes a step back from his grief and actually imagines being in a somewhat romantic relationship with Bad, he wants to puke and roll over and die somehow. Also probably had something to do with the fact that Bad started moving in to his current build project and setting up space there and usually it’s not a promising sign for a marriage if you started the day after absolutely strangling your partner.

Bad also realizes this too. The thought of a traditional marriage at ALL has never sounded appealing. He isn’t one to get domestic with it, and despite trying to set up a home with Foolish sounds unappealing (noooo had nothing to do with the current bruises on his neck right now…) Bad lived for adventure, and liked solitude once in a while, and marriage was just a tether that promised no benefits except for tax purposes and he already evades taxes anyways.

They both fight each other to be the once that divorces the other, and they start by making this EVERYONES problem. They never had a traditional wedding, but they DID go to an official divorce court, making it a point to hire the best talent with divorce lawyers out there. Not that there was much to go on, they were only married for a handful of days, and it wasn’t even official so the lawyers have no clue what to do. They go with it anyways because it’s a totem shark and a demon and they are already beating the shit out of each other in the middle of the court, and the lawyers did NOT want to get in the middle of that.

Bad of course tries to weasel his way into getting 50% of Foolish’s build, and Foolish gets impatient with the court and just attacks Bad himself, fed up at the consistent attempts to steal his build.

They both roll around on the ground, biting, kicking, punching, and both of them are smiling through it. They can lean on each other when times get tough, but Landduo will NEVER stoop to petty human traditions ever again.

(whoops this turned into a mini hc fic)

[marvelstars]

I usually like to talk about star wars in general and I don´t like to demonize any character be it one of my faves or not but tbh some fan takes really make me mad, takes like:

"Ahsoka wasn´t being fair in her judgment of the Order"

I am like "The Jedi Council, Obi-Wan and Plo Koon included" sentenced her to face a military trial that most definitely was going to end in her execution.

Again, a 16 year old whose only support/family/people she knew in her life abandoned her to be executed by the goverment she fought for three years as a child soldier.

Sorry but considering this, any take she has on the Order, the obvious love she still has for Jedi´s ways, people and life but also the criticism is completely valid on her part and she should say it, in fact I believe she was quite calm in her reaction considering all of that.

Same with her warm dedication to Anakin´s memory as her "older brother" you know given he was the ONLY ONE who thought about getting her a lawyer and solve the mystery to keep her from being executed by their own government, he was her master and treated her like actual family and didn´t break his links with her after the Order expelled her on circunstancial evidence or thought she was wrong for leaving after all of that like Obi-Wan did.

There´s Jedi unreasonable hate and there is reasonable, based in the story criticism and this is part of it.

Another fandom take that really gets on my nerves is:

Anakin was a child problem for loving his Mom, his Mom was like a Jedi and understood she had to "let go of him"

I am like: Shmi was a literal slave whose only way to keep Anakin from sharing the same fate as her was to give him up to a bunch of strangers, Shmi didn´t know anything about the Jedi but knew being free was better for Anakin than being a slave.

Anakin loving his mother and missing her isn´t attachment, it´s normal for a 9 year old to miss his mother, he also had a right to be mad with the republic for allowing slavery out of convenience and with the Jedi for supporting the republic on this instance because it wasn´t jedi bussines.

"Anakin was an incompetent leader"

Anakin was one of the best Jedi leaders out there in the clone wars, that´s why He and Obi-Wan got the harder missions dealing with Grievous, who killed a lot of Jedi or Count Dooku who also killed Jedi.

He got the moniker "hero without fear" out of the sheer victories he got for the republic and the many planets he helped free from separatist attacks, he also established training for what would become the first cells of the rebel alliance.

He wasn´t just a competent leader, he was a brilliant general, recognized by his enemies and friends alike.

"The clones are not a slave army"

The Clones were purchased with republic credits by a Jedi Master, that makes both the Republic and the Jedi Order their owners, this is canon in Attack of the Clones and in the Clone wars.

They dont get a salary because they are merchandise, property of the republic and the Jedi Order.

The Jedi Order didn´t know about the purchase but the fact they didn´t say anything post fact about the clones being slaves doesn´t give them a good look as "peace keepers to the galaxy" they were more, in this instance, supporters of the status quo.

And no, nothing of this makes valid Order 66, the Jedi Order didn´t deserve to be anhiliated for all of this but the Jedi Order definitely were a flawed organization made up of people with virtues and flaws who unfortunately supported blindly a corrupt system. The Republic was the mother of the Empire after all.

I feel like sharing some of my problems with fandom takes, rant over :)

[nesiacha]

In défense for Jacques René Hébert

Jacques-René Hébert (1757-1794)

Warning:

I really dislike Hébert. Even if his defense was made easier by the fact that I like some characters described as Hébertists and adore Momoro (my favorite faction of the French Revolution is the ultra-revolutionary faction, even though I know they also committed unforgivable acts given the hellish situation they were in). Historian Gérard Walter aptly summarized my view of Hébert, calling him a mediocre politician and a journalist of rare vulgarity. I would add more, describing him as a precursor to reality TV with the false persona he portrayed. Therefore, some sentences do not reflect my true opinions. However, my goal is to defend him as a lawyer would, within the context of the French Revolution. Hence, it is normal for me to refer to Louis XVI as a tyrant or something else. You can also choose to play the role of jurors or simply state whether you acquit him or not, as you wish.

The défense

Citizens, I have the great honor of being mandated by the Revolutionary Tribunal to restore the truth and honor of Jacques René Hébert, who has been defamed for far too long. There exists a black legend regarding Citizen Hébert, who still awaits the rehabilitation he has well deserved.

Citizen Hébert was born on November 15, 1757, in Alençon. His father was a master goldsmith, and rumors suggested that his mother belonged to the nobility, but there is no evidence to support her noble status. Far from being the uncultured character he is often portrayed as, Hébert became a prosecutor's clerk, though he had to leave this profession in 1780 and sought refuge in Paris. Some say this was due to a romantic adventure that brought him trouble, while others claim it was to escape a heavy financial penalty in a personal matter. Perhaps it was both, but in any case, he was in charge of managing theater box rentals at the Théâtre des Variétés from 1787-1788. Contrary to the black legend we must dispel regarding Citizen Hébert, there is no evidence that he stole any funds.

Citizen Hébert distinguished himself in revolutionary activities more significantly in 1790 when he began publishing the newspaper "Le Père Duchesne." Contrary to a widespread belief, likely propagated to discredit him, Hébert was not the inventor of the Père Duchesne character nor the first to use such language in his paper. There were two types of newspapers like this, including "Père Duchêne" by Abbé Jumel. Hébert outcompeted his rivals, and although he initially admired the tyrant Louis Capet, as did many French who were deceived, he still denounced the abuses suffered by the poor at the hands of the rich, the scandals of the court, and the moral failures of certain priests who nevertheless preached virtue. Citizen Hébert also highlighted social issues and showed great sensitivity to the lives of workers: he advocated for better social assistance for elderly fathers whose children were Sans Culottes and for the organization of elementary education for their children. All this earned him well-deserved success.

Far from being a failed and mediocre journalist, the facts I have presented demonstrate that Citizen Hébert was dedicated to the rights of the people.

Moreover, once the tyrant attempted to flee, Hébert abandoned royalism and became a genuine republican, having opened his eyes to the nature of the monarchy. He continually attacked the tyrant’s duplicity regarding his frequent use of vetoes, which further impeded the rights of the people. Hébert also became a member of the Cordeliers Club in 1791 and entered political functions on August 10, 1792, within the Paris Commune, becoming a spokesperson for the Sans Culottes.

The fact that he did not succeed in being elected to the Convention, unlike other journalists, should not lead one to believe that Citizen Hébert was incapable of holding important positions or that he was unpopular. Evidence of his capability is his election as deputy prosecutor of the Paris Commune, and in addition to his work, he joined the Jacobin Club in January 1793. This shows that he was becoming increasingly active. We should also remember that he openly applauded the abolition of slavery, as evidenced by one of his articles titled "La grande joie du père Duchèsne au sujet de la fête que les Sans-Culottes ont célébrée dans le Temple de la Raison, en réjouissance de l'abolition de l'esclavage des négres" on 1 Ventôse An II. We are thus far from the heartless man depicted by the black legend concerning Citizen Hébert.

Regarding the accusations that Hébert was bloodthirsty due to the political group called the Girondins, I must remind you of historian Jean Clément Martin’s statement that the Girondins were sent to the scaffold because they failed to send the Montagnards or the Sans Culottes there. Indeed, before the insurrection of May 31 and June 2, 1793, Citizen Hébert was arrested, likely due to his articles. When some Sans Culottes came merely to request his release, Isnard made a speech threatening the destruction of Paris. Therefore, besides showing that the opponents of the Cordeliers and Jacobins would not have hesitated to use the guillotine, we see that Citizen Hébert was capable of inspiring great loyalty. Following this insurrection, his newspaper gained significant success, and for good reason.

Finally, on September 5, 1793, he was part of a group that invaded the Convention following disastrous events that further endangered our glorious revolution. With many Sans Culottes, he demanded necessary and salutary measures such as price controls and the raising of a revolutionary army.

Some may criticize Citizen Hébert for continually demanding the death penalty. I would respond that while it is true that innocents sometimes suffered from these accusations, it was not Hébert who made these decisions, although we cannot absolve him of responsibility. It was the Convention, the Committee of General Security, and the Committee of Public Safety that voted for the arrests. When he demanded texts in his journal, it is easy to forget the context: the betrayal of Dumouriez, who handed over the Minister of War and others to the enemy, and the treason of two French admirals that resulted in Toulon falling into English hands. Citizen Hébert, like many French revolutionaries, was exasperated and worried, knowing that royalist threats were not empty. Of course, there were innocent generals whose heads Hébert called for, such as General Custine, but we must see his actions in context without excusing them.

Concerning the false accusation against Marie Antoinette regarding her son, I do not wish to absolve Citizen Hébert of this horrible affair, but he was not the only one responsible. Yet, some want to make it seem as though he alone was to blame, while citizens like Pache, Chaumette, and Jacques Louis David were also involved. He is clearly not solely responsible.

I must say that Hébert's attacks on Danton were entirely justified given the evidence we now have. Nevertheless, certain members of the Committee of Public Safety, including Robespierre, preferred to target Hébert before Danton, likely due to the campaign of de-Christianization. But remember this: without excusing those who wanted to force de-Christianization, we should recall that not long ago, many religious fanatics infantilized the people, constantly making prohibitions against them (remember the Callas affair or that of the Chevalier de La Barre). However, we should not forget that Hébert did not hate Christians, as he often referred to the Sans Culotte Jesus. Therefore, this hatred was primarily directed at clergy, especially those who were resistant to our glorious revolution or those who maintained a hypocritical attitude in their functions, although some might attribute Hébert’s remarks about Jesus to an attempt to temper his criticisms. Nevertheless, he was a victim of an unjustifiable parody of a trial.

It is important to remember the context of the insurrection, recalling the harsh winter of 1793-1794, and that the Cordeliers Club, where Hébert was very popular, was among the most sensitive to the suffering of the working classes. This was one of the reasons for the insurrection, and we should not forget that ultimately, people like Hébert were right to distrust the Ventôse laws, as they were eventually not enforced.

He was the victim of a parody of a trial, wrongly accused of sabotaging food supplies. As historian Antoine Resche states in his mini-biography of Citizen Hébert, to "fabricate a flimsy case, a few more or less dubious foreign figures were added to the list of accused, and Hébert was executed as the leader of a rather disjointed group." Their arrests were politically motivated. Many laughed at Hébert’s execution, noting his calls for heads and his eventual breakdown. I must point out that his wife, Marie Françoise Goupil, was arrested shortly after him and claimed to be pregnant—whether this was true or not, I hope not—to avoid execution, yet she was executed 20 days later.

However, Camille Desmoulins is absolved for his behavior on the scaffold because it was believed he wept for Lucile and was more lenient than Hébert. If we accept this excuse for Desmoulins, we must also extend it to Citizen Hébert, who may have cried primarily for his wife’s fate. And regarding Desmoulins' alleged leniency, let us reconsider. He shares responsibility for the Brissotins’ demise, did not protest the entirely illegal persecution of Jacques Roux, said he understood the need to curb liberty for the people’s salvation, and did not oppose or even approved the mock trial that led to the deaths of Hébert, Momoro, Ronsin, Vincent, and the arrest of Marie Françoise Goupil. If we accuse Citizen Hébert of having dubious friends, what about Desmoulins, who allied with a corrupt figure like Danton, and likely knew it? We are far from the kind Desmoulins versus the evil Hébert often portrayed in films. Desmoulins enjoys a golden legend, while Hébert has a black one that needs lifting.

Furthermore, the execution of the so-called exaggerators had a disastrous impact within the Committee of Public Safety concerning the Parisian masses.

Lastly, I must point out that "Le Père Duchesne" saw success between 1848 and 1871. What we call Hébertism had a greater significance than often acknowledged.

Thus, I ask you to rehabilitate Hébert, who did so much against slavery, for price controls, proposed measures to alleviate the suffering of Parisians, and fell victim to a parody of justice that chilled the French Revolution, remembered only for its bloodshed because it sells better.

Sources:

Antoine Resche

Danton write by Frédéric Bluche

Gérard Walter