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soramei · 3 years ago

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From Resentment (hhj)

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader (she/her)

Summary: After a fated meeting involving a cute and fluffy puppy, you found yourself drawn to Hwang Hyunjin: the school prince. Everybody in high school loved him. It was hard not to. Not only was he rich, smart, and athletic, but he was also incredibly kind-hearted.

However, one day seemingly out of the blue, everything that you thought Hyunjin was came crashing down.

Now a freshman in university, you were excited to live out your dreams. That was, until Hyunjin came hurtling back into your life like an uncontrolled meteor. His presence threw a curveball on all your plans, and would eventually change your perspective on everything that you thought you knew.

Genre: studentl!hyunjin au, angst, enemies to lovers

Warnings: cursing, tw puking

Word Count: 8.8k

Masterlist

A/N: Not an Intentional update but a hyunjin oneshot!! disclaimer: no aspect of hyunjins personality here was drawn from real life — irl hyunjin is a ray of sunshine <3

You looked at your math homework, proud that you got all the answers correct. Since it was a slow afternoon at your job today, you had extra time to focus on your homework. The boss at the convenience store you worked at allowed you to have your homework out, as long as it was hidden behind the cash register.

As you stared at the rest of your homework, you started to feel the weight of tenth grade pile up on you. Because it was your first year of high school, you were still trying to adjust to everything; your grades, your teachers, and all the new students walking around the halls.

You stuffed the rest of your homework in your backpack. It was the end of your shift, and you wanted to go home as soon as possible to start with the rest of your studying. Crap. No matter how hard you tried to zip up your backpack, it wouldn’t close. After trying one more time, the zipper tore from your backpack.

You cursed under your breath. You couldn’t afford to buy a new backpack right now.

You had just been able to afford your new school uniform by taking up extra shifts at the convenience store, and you still needed money for your grandmother’s prescriptions. You sighed, annoyed to have another monetary stressor weighing on your shoulders.

Walking outside with your now torn backpack, your eyes widened at the group of boys in front of you. You immediately recognized them from behind.

The school princes. These three seniors were all known for three things: being extremely smart, handsome, and talented.

On the left was Seungmin, and from what you’ve heard, he was the smart and quiet one. He was always helping the teachers, being the class president and all. Any time a girl or a boy needed academic help, Seungmin was there and happy to assist.

The person on the right was Jisung. With his charming and charismatic personality, he had dated tens upon tens of girls in his grade. Just in the last year. It helped that he was really good looking — and also stinkin’ rich. His father was a notorious restaurateur, and with him being the first son, he was basically given unlimited spending rights.

The only person richer than Jisung was the boy in the center of them both: Hwang Hyunjin. This boy was the school prince. The prince of princes. He somehow managed to participate in music clubs, engage in study groups, and captain the soccer team all the while keeping up excellent grades. Every girl that Jisung had dated was said to have been rejected by Hyunjin first. That was his only flaw: he was notoriously cold to any and all romantic confessions.

You followed behind the three princes, staring at your torn up sneakers. You knew you didn’t exist in their world, but even being near three handsome and rich teenage boys made you nervous.

Suddenly, you heard a whimper coming from behind a bush to the left of you. It sounded like a hurt animal.

Worried and curious, you walked over to the bush to see what it was.

It was a puppy. Small and fluffy, it looked up at you with it’s beady black eyes and cried out. His paw was bleeding.

You panicked. Having never seen a hurt puppy before, you had no idea what to do. You called out for help.

“Help!” you cried, hoping that somebody had heard your call for help. You desperately wanted to help this hurt puppy, but you hesitated to touch it, afraid that you would hurt the animal even more.

The puppy howled in pain, making your panic rise. You were about to call out for help again, when you heard somebody running up behind you.

“What is it?” The voice asked.

“I-I don’t know. I just saw this dog here, and-and his paw is bleeding,” you anxiously stuttered.

“Here, let me take a look.”

You heard the voice behind you, so you shuffled over to make room.

It was Hwang Hyunjin. The person that responded to your cry for help was the most popular and well-liked person in the school. You were shocked, a bit intimidated actually, so you silently moved to the side for him. His black hair shone in the sunlight as he bent down to examine the dog.

“Come here, boy,” he chirped. The puppy listened, and started limping to him. “Something hurt you, didn’t it.”

He stood up, picking the puppy up along with him.

“C’mon,” he gestured with his head, “my vet isn’t too far from here actually. We can make it by walking.”

You silently nodded and followed him.

He was right. The walk to the veterinarian clinic, though very awkward, wasn’t too far. The clinic was empty at this time of day, with the receptionist being the only person in the room.

“Hyunjin! Always a pleasure,” the receptionist beamed. It seemed like Hyunjin’s likeability wasn’t only confined to your school. “My, what do we have here?”

“There’s something wrong with his paw,” Hyunjin tried to show the receptionist where the blood was coming from, “is the doctor free right now?”

“As a matter of fact, he is,” the receptionist said whilst checking the schedule. “I’ll take this little boy to the back where he can get prepped for the veterinarian.”

Hyunjin handed the puppy carefully to the receptionist. The receptionist took out a crate for the dog, put him in, and then disappeared through the back door. The two of you were now left alone in the waiting room.

“Uhm,” you coughed, “thank you. I know you probably want to get back to your friends, so you can leave now.”

“No, I’ll stay,” he looked at you and smiled, “those idiots are just playing LOL at the PC room anyways. Plus, I want to see how this little boy turns out.”

You smiled back at him, nodding your head. A few moments of awkward silence passed.

“I’m Hyunjin by the way,” he said.

“I know. I’m Y/n.”

“You’re in your first year, right?” he said, looking at the colour of your uniform.

“Yeah, it’s so hard to get used to though. I’m trying my best with my homework, but I think this school stuff just doesn’t click with me,” you rambled.

“Oh?”

“I want to go into dance. I’ve never been able to afford professional lessons, but I’ve always wanted to go to university for dance. My grandparents said they would let me if my school grades were high.” You didn’t know why you were giving your life story to Hyunjin. He just had this natural charisma that made you want to spill everything to him. It was the way he looked at you with those cat-like eyes.

“I know what you mean. It took me forever to convince my parents for me to major in dance. I got in by early admittance, but I’m sure they still have their reservations about my major.”

“You’re majoring in dance?” you asked, eyes wide.

He smiled. “I’ve loved dancing ever since I could remember. It’s my passion, and truthfully, the only thing I’ve got going for me.”

You were shocked. At school, Hyunjin was known for so many things other than dancing. Hell, you didn’t even know he enjoyed dancing and you thought you’d heard everything about him already.

The two of you chatted for a while longer before the vet came out with the now happy looking dog.

“It seemed like this little guy got into a fight with something, and he got a pretty large gash on his paw. Luckily, it wasn’t bleeding too much so I just gave him some anaesthetic and stitched it right up.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god he isn’t too hurt.”

“Yes, it’s good that it wasn’t too bad,” the veterinarian agreed. “I’m assuming this is your dog? As soon as you finish with the bill, I can release this little guy and the both of you are ready to go.”

Oh yeah. The bill.

Although you knew you couldn’t afford to pay the vet bill, you didn’t know where this little dog would go if you couldn’t take him home. You did the mental calculations, and if you worked some extra shifts, you could probably be able to pick up the bill today. Buying a new backpack could be saved for another day.

“Sure, where can I pay?” you asked.

“Just over by the receptionist.” The veterinarian pointed.

You walked over to the receptionist, and she handed the bill over to you.

You almost fainted.

Just the anaesthetic and the stitches alone cost over two hundred dollars. This was extremely over your budget, and probably even more than the amount in your savings. You felt uneasy.

“Uhm, actually, I don’t think I can-”

“Do you take cash?”

Hyunjin had interrupted you, walked up to the receptionist, and pulled out his wallet. He peaked over your shoulder and took out a huge wad of cash to hand to the receptionist.

“Hyunjin, you don’t have to,” you begged. You felt bad that this guy you didn’t even know had just offered to cover you for over two hundred dollars.

“Think of it as a good luck gift from a fellow dancer.” He smiled.

That was when it clicked. You didn’t know what clicked, but it just did. It was his smile. It was the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up and how the corners of his lips pinched at the end. You now understood why all the girls at school were in love with him. He was quite literally perfect.

You thanked him profusely, even after the two of you had left the clinic. With the dog in your hand, you walked side by side with Hyunjin.

“So,” he started, “have you thought of a name for this guy yet?”

Oh yeah — he was your dog now. “Hmm, I don’t know yet.”

“What about Coco?”

“Coco?”

“Yeah, let’s see if he likes it.” Hyunjin leaned in and cooed at the little puppy. “Hi, little Coco!”

The puppy’s eyes lit up, and with his tongue stretched out, he started panting.

“I guess he likes it,” Hyunjin smiled. God, his smile could melt all of Antarctica.

“Coco it is.” You poked at Coco’s nose.

Hyunjin was about to say something back to you when his phone buzzed. He took a peak, rolled his eyes, then smiled. “My friends are god awful at games. I swear, they can’t even win one round without me. You’re okay with going home alone?”

He was going to walk you home? Could he be any more perfect?

You nodded your head. “Thank you, Hyunjin. I’ll pay you back for the bill one day.”

“No need,” he winked. “Like I said, it’s a good luck gift. Oh, and you can ask me if you need help with any school work. Anything to help a fellow dancer.”

He waved goodbye, then went running off in the other direction. You held Coco close to you, heart pounding. Although you didn’t want to be like all the other girls who fell for him, you felt like you were already falling for Hyunjin.

The next day, you had planned to go shopping for dog supplies after school. After a really long and arduous debate with yourself, you decided to sacrifice all of your savings in order to buy everything that Coco needed. You knew Hyunjin owned a dog himself, so throughout the whole day, you worked up the nerve to ask Hyunjin to come with you.

At the end of last period, you gathered all your stuff from your desk and headed to the soccer field where you knew Hyunjin and his friends would be. Whilst you crossed the field, you noticed Jisung staring at you. You found his stare intimidating, but you tried to brush it off. He then whispered something in Hyunjin’s ear.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” you said anxiously, biting your lip. “Umm, do you want to come with me to shop for Coco?”

He stared at you for a couple seconds, then, a look of disgust appeared on his face. “Why? So you can use my wallet again?”

You stared back at him, wide eyed. Who was this person? It wasn’t the Hyunjin that so graciously helped you out yesterday.

“W-what? No!” you exclaimed. “I-I just wanted your opinion…”

“Sure,” Hyunjin smirked coldly, “opinion my ass.”

“Hyunjin,” tears were pooling in your eyes, “I don’t understand.”

“If you need money so much, here.” He reached in his pocket and turned up a wad of cash, throwing it at your feet. “Just don’t come to me next time. And buy yourself a new pair of shoes while you’re at it.”

You looked down at the money, trying to hold back your tears. Why was Hyunjin being like this? You didn’t understand. His two jockeys beside him didn’t even bother to stop him. As you tried to stop yourself from crying, you felt your sadness turn into rage.

“I don’t need your stupid money,” you said, kicking the cash back to him. “Maybe you can use your daddy’s money to buy yourself a new personality.”

Hyunjin’s two friends tried to hold back their snickers at your words. Hyunjin heard, turned around, and gave them both death stares.

You didn’t bother to listen to whatever he was going to say next and simply stomped away, rage burning inside you. Everything about him was a lie. His charming and charismatic personality, his generosity, his kindness. They were all lies. He really was nothing but a rich, spoiled boy living with his father’s money.

There was rage behind every step you took. Wiping away your tears, you headed to your locker. You didn’t need him anyways; it was better to realize his true personality earlier rather than later. Hands shaking from anger, you dialed the combination to your locker.

“Hey, sorry about what happened earlier.” A voice came from behind you. “He can be a real jerk sometimes.”

It was Jisung. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t want to see him either.

“Why didn’t you do anything about it then?” Your voice came out shaky. It was obvious that you had cried.

“Once he starts, there’s no stopping him. It’s usually better to let him finish uninterrupted, or else he will get more mad.”

“Oh,” you said. Your hatred for Hyunjin grew even more.

“I could come with you, though. I don’t know much about dogs, but I can help you carry your bags.”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon, no way you can carry everything by yourself.”

You hesitated. “Okay, I guess.”

And so, you left for the pet store with Jisung, still confused about everything that had happened. It was strange with him. He was nice and cracked a joke every now and then, but it was just different from being with Hyunjin. At least he was nice, you thought.

Your trip went well. You managed to buy everything you needed for Coco. In a turn of events, Jisung had actually come in handy as he offered to carry the huge bag of dog food you bought. He even offered to buy you a coffee.

“Thanks for all your help, Jisung.” You stood outside the door of your apartment, smiling at him.

“No problem, gives me an excuse to work out my guns.” He pretended to flex his arms.

You choked back a laugh.

“You should get going now. It’s late,” you said.

“Alright,” he started to leave. “Hey, if you see me in the halls, feel free to say hi.”

You nodded and waved to him as he turned and walked away, remembering his words. Every time you saw Jisung in the school hallways, you gave him a small wave in which he happily returned. However, whenever you saw him walking with Hyunjin, you made sure to purposely avoid them. You didn’t want any negativity in your life.

You kept up the waves, and soon, waves turned to small conversations which soon turned to flirting. By the end of the semester, you and Jisung somehow ended up as a couple. Jisung was polite and sweet, unlike a certain person. With every free moment you had, you hung out with Jisung — all the while avoiding Hyunjin.

The two of you stayed a couple for the rest of Jisung’s senior year. Somehow, the two of you had even kept up your relationship throughout your whole high school experience. It was hard at times as he went to university, but with a lot of effort, you had made your relationship work out. You barely had time to talk with him, but you enjoyed the little time that you did have. Jisung had never even once mentioned Hyunjin when you were together, and with time, you had totally forgotten about that jerk. You weren’t even sure if they were still friends.

You worked hard in school and reaped all the benefits. Your rank had consistently been in the top twenties amongst all the other students, and you even had time to practice your dancing. You remembered the day that you received your acceptance letter from university. Hands shaking, you had barely managed to open the letter all the way before you screamed. You had gotten into university with your dream major: dance.

Because of your excellent grades, you were able to pay a lot of your tuition with scholarship money alone. You hesitantly decided to quit your job at the convenience store to focus on university. Although quitting meant that your bank account would take a big hit, you decided that it would be best in the long run. There was a lot in your savings, and you even had a little extra to buy a new outfit for your first day of school.

Jisung had been busy on the first day of university. He had previously promised to show you around campus, but with him being a no-show, you wandered around by yourself to try to find your classes. You had trouble with the campus map at first, but after walking around for a bit, you were able to find all your classes with ease.

Your first few classes were a snore. Because they were all theory, you had to down two cups of coffee in order to stay awake. Somehow, you managed to take coherent notes despite being bored out of your mind. You just wanted to dance.

The good thing was, after sitting through many classes, your time to dance finally came. Your last class of the day was an introduction to dance course, and you couldn’t wait to go. You wanted to know your teacher, your peers, and most importantly, express yourself.

The dance class was in a studio in the university’s fitness center. It was huge, way bigger than the tiny gym in your high school. Upon entering the studio, you were immediately met with the sight of students, exactly like you, already stretching. You chose a spot in the room and started stretching as well, making good use of your time before the instructor comes in.

After some time, most of the students — including you — had finished stretching and were sitting in silence waiting for the instructor. The door swung open, breaking the silence. The instructor had come in.

“Hello new students,” he said, “welcome to Dance 100. Today, I will go through the curriculum with you as well as introduce your final project.”

The instructor whipped out a projection of the curriculum and started explaining the purpose of the course, what you would be graded on, and how you would be graded. He then read through his class expectations before moving to your final project.

“This final project will act in place of a final exam,” he explained. “You will be required to create a dance that includes everything we’ve learned in class and write an essay explaining all the elements in your dance. It will be worth half your grade.”

The class gasped in surprise. Not only did this project sound extremely difficult for a first year course, but the fact that it was worth half your grade made it borderline unfair.

“I know it might seem difficult, but worry not, you won’t be doing this alone. Every year, the first year dance students get mentored by the third year dance students for the final project. Each student has already been assigned a random mentor which will be introduced this class.”

The whole class murmured, talking amongst themselves and expressing their opinions on this project. It was definitely an interesting project. You hoped that you would be paired with a good mentor that would actually care about how well you did.

There was a knock on the door.

“Ah, this must be them.” Your instructor opened the door and a wave of third years came flooding in. Each one of them had a name tag pinned on their shirts. “Class, these are the third year students.”

You all politely greeted them.

“Now,” the instructor continued, “I will put the class list on the projector, and each of your names will correspond to a third year mentor.”

The instructor put out the list for display. You scanned down the list of names, eventually finding yours. Following the dots to your corresponding mentor, you almost choked on air when you saw yours.

It was Hwang Hyunjin.

You were at a loss for words. Just when you thought he was out of your life forever, the man that was so incredibly mean to you — the man you hated with your whole soul — was now your mentor. Just the thought of being in the same room as him filled you with disgust.

You scanned the sea of third year students, and your eyes immediately found him. He was staring back at you with the same shocked expression that you had on.

He looked different. Not only had he grown taller, but he had lost all his baby fat as well. His hair was different too. It was bleached blond and it almost hit his shoulders. What was the same, however, was his intense stare and his plump lips.

You walked over to him.

“You look different.” His eyes scanned up and down.

“So do you.” You clenched your jaw and sighed. “I guess we have to work together.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said flatly.

“Listen,” you copied his tone, “I’m not excited about this either, but I want to get a good grade for this class. If you don’t wanna help me, just say so and I’ll just work alone on this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he rolled his eyes, “this is part of my grade too. I can’t let you fuck this up for the both of us.”

You rolled your eyes back at him and pressed your lips in a thin line. Ignoring what he said, you asked, “where do we start?”

“Let’s find a time to meet every week.” He pulled out the newest iPad model from his bag. Of course he would have the newest iPad. “I’m busy every day except Saturday, so let’s meet then.”

Way to consider your opinion. He was lucky that you weren’t busy on the weekends.

As Hyunjin worked on sorting his schedule, you took your time to look at how he had changed. With his hair blonde, he looked like a completely different person. You didn’t understand why he kept his hair long though. It kept falling in his eyes.

“Stop staring at me. It’s freaking me out.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“I wasn’t.” You crossed your arms, defending yourself.

“Whatever.” He tucked his hair behind his ear and put his iPad back in his bag. “Don’t be late on Saturday.”

And with that, he left. You looked around the class. Most of the other students were still with their mentors, presumably getting to know each other and discussing the project. You almost wanted to ask your instructor to switch with somebody else, but that would mean passing on the nightmare known as Hwang Hyunjin onto a perfectly innocent person. You had your moments, but you weren’t evil.

The interaction with Hyunjin had left you in a sour mood for the rest of the day. You tried to study, but you were too distracted by the thought of having to work with that monstrosity for a whole semester. It was worth so much of your grade, too. You had just hoped that Hyunjin was as good at dance as he previously told you. You remembered him saying how dance was his passion in life. That was when you still liked him. Who knows, maybe he only said that so he could play you like every other girl he played with.

For the rest of the week, whenever you thought of the dance project, you were filled with dread. You tried to ignore it, and sometimes it worked, but most of the time it kept reappearing in your mind like a virus. The way Hyunjin had infected your mind bothered you to no end.

Time passed fast though, and before you knew it, Saturday had already come. Searching through your closet, you picked out a simple outfit for practice today. You slid on your tattered old sneakers and headed off to the studio that Hyunjin had told you to go to.

Entering the dance studio, you noticed that you were right on time. However, Hyunjin was not. Great… He made such a big deal over you being on time that he himself forgot to be punctual. You sat on the wood floors and started to do some stretches to warm up.

Eventually, after you finished your stretching, he entered the studio. With a girl. Holding a textbook, Hyunjin handed it to the girl and put on his signature deceitful smile. His ugly, perfect smile. The girl batted her eyes and waved her fingers goodbye before strolling out the door. You rolled your eyes at this, feeling bad for the girl. Hyunjin was playing her right in front of her own eyes and she didn’t even realize it.

“Were you really late because of a girl?” you sneered.

“Why do you care?” he retorted, flinging his bag to the corner of the room.

“I don’t.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Not wanting to waste time with that childish banter, you decided to end the conversation then and there. “Okay, well anyways, I’ll show you what I learned in class this week.”

Hooking up your phone to the speaker, you chose the song that you’ve been practicing with for the whole week. As the song progressed, you found it hard to not get lost in the music. Just dancing was the easy part; incorporating everything learned in class was another story. Although it was fairly difficult, you thought you executed everything very well as the song came to an end. Finishing up, you panted from exhaustion and looked at Hyunjin for his comments.

He stood, with his arms crossed across his torso, leaning against the speaker. There was a blank expression on his face.

“Not bad.” He started to walk up to you.

“But?”

“But you’re too stiff. You’re too focused on perfectly executing the technical moves that you forget to just move your body. Do what you did half-way through the song again.”

You turned the music on, trying to do the dance with Hyunjin’s criticisms in mind. Looking in the mirror, you did your best to show as much emotion as possible, all the while moving more fluidly. The room was filled with heavy bass and the squeaks from your sneakers.

Suddenly, the music was abruptly cut off.

Hyunjin had stopped the music and was making his way over, face still unreadable.

“You’re still trying too hard and it shows.” Hyunjin shook his head.

Clenching your jaw, you did your best to hold back your anger. Were you just not supposed to try? This annoyed you. Just because he didn’t need to try to be good at anything didn’t mean you couldn’t.

“Well,” you tried to say calmly, “how can I do this then?”

“You have to relax.” He put one hand on your hip and started to guide you. “Don’t focus on each individual aspect, but try to imagine everything as a whole. Then, things will come naturally.”

You followed his hand, allowing Hyunjin to guide you to his own rhythm. After a while, every movement felt so fluid and you didn’t even notice that your face started to match your movements. Glancing at your reflection, you gasped, noticing how different your dancing looked. You whipped your head to face Hyunjin, the two of your inches apart and breathing heavily.

“See,” he mumbled, looking down at you. “Once you stop thinking, everything just comes naturally.”

You looked back at the person inches away from you. It almost felt as if he was being kind. But you knew the type of person he was. You weren’t going to let this happen again. Snapping out of what weird trance you were in, you pushed him away in an act of self perseverance.

He didn’t say anything.

“I’ll try again,” you said.

Hyunjin strolled over to the speaker and turned on the music. This time, you didn’t think about anything you learned in class or Hyunjin’s criticisms. You just trusted in your body. Everything else was blank.

Taking a step forward while still in your trance, your shoe lost its grip on the floor, causing you to fall right on your knee. You cried in pain, holding on to your knee.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin hissed. He ran over and bent down to your level. “Can you move it?”

“I think so.” You tried to straighten your knee. It hurt, but you were still able to do it. There would most likely be a nasty bruise there the next morning.

“You’re still wearing those scraps that you call shoes? They’re literally coming apart at the seams. This is going to happen again if you don’t get new ones.”

You blushed in embarrassment from his remarks. “I’m not going to spend money on things that I don’t need.”

“Well, you need shoes. Just go buy a new pair later.”

Was he being serious? Or was he just spoiled?

“Hyunjin, not everybody can just go spend money whenever they want,” you loudly sighed. “Unlike you, I need to consider my budget for most things.”

“Well, why can’t you ask your boyfriend to buy it?” he sneered. “Seems like you’re good at doing that.”

How did he know you were still dating Jisung? What did he mean by ‘good at doing that’?

“What?” You crossed your eyebrows. “Do you think I’m with him just for his money? Do I really look like that kind of person to you?”

“You used me for my money,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What?” You couldn’t hear him right.

“Nevermind, rehearsal's over.” He stomped off, leaving you alone in the practice room holding on to your injured knee.

You busied yourself with everything and anything you could do over the weekend in order to forget what happened during rehearsal. However, no matter how hard you tried to forget, Hyunjin’s comments on your shoes stuck in your mind like glue.

During your shift at your job, you couldn’t help but keep staring at your worn sneakers. You never paid attention to your shoes before until now. They did the job, so why would you need to buy a new pair? Still, you unconsciously paid attention to every step you took.

On Monday’s dance class, you decided to go early. It was always nice to warm up in a room with other try-hards. They felt less judgemental than the others.

The studio barely had anybody in it this early before class. Everybody was either stretching or had already started going over what was taught last week. Shuffling your way over to your locker, you couldn’t help but compare everybody else’s shoes to your own. You’ve never cared about trivial matters such as shoes, but you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious as your worn-in sneakers squeaked its way over to the lockers.

Opening your locker, your eyes widened, shocked at what you saw. Inside was a box containing a brand new pair of sneakers. It was an expensive brand as well, a brand that you never thought you would be touching in your life. You turned your head around, scanning the room. Everybody seemed to have been busy with their own thing.

Did somebody put these in your locker by mistake?

Taking the shoes out, you noticed a small slip of paper fly out. You picked up the note.

Keep these. I was a jerk.

You knew who had sent this. It was Hyunjin. You didn’t know what game he was trying to play at, but you weren’t going to fall for it like you did that day in high school. Gingerly putting the shoes back in your locker, you decided to return these back to Hyunjin at your next practice.

“No, I gave them to you as a gift.” Hyunjin turned his nose up at you, refusing to take back the shoes.

“Why would you give these to me if you think that I only use people for their money?”

“Because,” he rolled his eyes, “if you’re unable to dance then my grade is screwed as well.”

He made a good point, but you were stubborn. “Still…”

“You know what? Keep it, give it away, sell it, I don’t care. Let’s just start practice.”

After that dance practice, you threw your old shoes in the trash.

It was midterm season a month into school. You thought you had gone to hell and back with high school, but this was even worse. Each day consisted of waking up, studying, and going back to sleep. You lived on coffee and toast. It wasn’t much, but it gave you the energy to sit at the library for hours to study.

You didn’t see anybody during the midterm season, Instead, you chose to hermit yourself up at the library for days on end. This meant that, at least for a couple of weeks, your dance practice with Hyunjin was put on hiatus. Not that he minded, of course. He happily deleted the practices from his schedule.

You also didn’t see much of your boyfriend, Jisung. Ever since school started, he seemed to always be missing in action. He would almost never have time to be with you, and with the few moments that he was, it seemed like he was always so apathetic towards you. You brushed this off as stress though, as you finally knew what it was like to experience university exams.

It was a clear and sunny day on the morning you finished your last midterm. Leaving the exam room, you looked up to the sky, basking in the sun. Today was going to be a good day. Not only were you now stress free, but you were also invited to an end-of-midterm party for your dance class tonight. You had never gone to a university party before, so when a classmate asked if you wanted to go, you eagerly accepted.

Wrapping up your dance class, you stood at your locker, gathering the rest of your stuff.

“Hey.” An arm wrapped around you.

“Hey, Jisung.” You smiled, turning around to face him.

“You’re done all your midterms?”

“Yup.” You nodded happily.

He took a look at your shoes.

“New shoes?”

You hesitated in answering his question, not knowing where Jisung was with Hyunjin in terms of friendship. It was better to be truthful now rather than apologizing later.

“Hyunjin gave it to me.” You looked down, fiddling with your fingers. Why were you afraid of Jisung’s response?

“Wait, what? Hwang Hyunjin? Like from high school? Y/n, I thought you hated him.”

“I did! And I do,” you tried to explain, “but he had a reason to give me this.”

“Bullshit, Y/n. You’re really gonna believe any reason he pulls out of his ass? I thought you actually matured from high school.”

“Well, you would understand if you were around more often!” you yelled. You knew it was wrong to address other problems and blow this out of proportion, but you couldn’t think straight. Your mind was clouded with anger.

“What does this have to do with anything?” Jisung barked back. “What we’re talking about is how you, no matter how shitty of a person Hyunjin is, keep going back to him! Y/n, all that man does is take. He takes from you and he sure as hell takes everything from me. I won’t let that happen this time.”

When had he taken anything from you? All he had done was give.

“Jisung, let’s end this.”

“You’re right. Let’s cool down and talk later tonight.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I mean, let's end us.”

Jisung looked at you in disgust. “It’s Hyunjin, isn’t it?”

“No,” you vehemently denied, “Jisung, you never have time for me, and the little time we do have together you act like a different person. And now you’re being all possessive just because Hyunjin gave me a gift? I’m sorry, I just don’t see us recovering from this.”

“Fine, whatever.” Jisung turned around. “We’re done. But Y/n, don’t come running back to me when Hyunjin screws you over like he does with everybody.”

After Jisung left, you stomped your foot on the ground, tears pooling in your eyes. It was for the best — breaking up with him. For the past month, you hadn’t been happy with where your relationship was going, but this wasn’t the way you wanted to end an almost three year relationship.

Wiping away your tears, you tried to compose yourself before heading over to the pub. Jisung wasn’t worth the tears.

The walk to the pub wasn’t far as every establishment catered to students was a short walking distance from campus. For your entire walk over, you kept your head down so as to not receive looks from others. The headache from your cries and a blush of anger still lingered with you. Hopefully you’ll look somewhat normal by the time you reach the bar.

Checking your reflection once more in your phone camera, you fixed your hair a bit before going inside.

The bar was filled.

With students from both your dance class and the third year class, there was not an empty corner in sight. The music was loud, but the sounds of chatter coming from the students were louder. The place was dark, with the only source of light coming from very dim, bright blue LEDs.

It was surprising to see everybody in a different setting. You were used to the sight of your classmates being only in sweats and workout clothes, but now that they actually had time to get ready, everybody seemed like a completely different person.

You saw a few of your classmates wave at you, beckoning you over to where they were sitting. As soon as your butt landed on the chair, they spared no time to push a shot glass filled with clear liquor in front of you. You gladly took the drink, wanting to just let go and forget about everything that happened today. Holding back a cough, you scrunched your face as you felt the alcohol burn in your throat. It had been so long since the last time you drank.

After five you stopped counting. Partly because you knew you were going to drink more, but mostly because your head couldn’t even count to five anymore. Scrunching your eyes, you tried to focus on the blurry figure of your classmate complaining about her professor. Bored out of your mind as her mindless babble went on forever, your eyes started roaming around the bar. As your eyes wandered, you noticed somebody behind your classmate staring at you.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Even in your inebriated state of mind, you knew that it was Hyunjin. What other university student had the balls to bleach their whole head blonde? Your eyes met, and he ran a hand through his golden locks. Why do the most beautiful people harbour the most wretched personalities?

You tried to ignore his staring by focusing your attention back on your classmate, but eventually, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. He was still looking at you.

You saw a girl come up to him. She was the same girl that showed up with him on your first ever practice session. Because of the dimly lit bar and your drunken vision impairment, you had to really squint to make out what was going on. The girl, all smiley and giggly, put her hand on his shoulder, making Hyunjin break his eye contact with you. He smiled at the girl, mouthing words that were drowned out by the music. For some reason, this made you furious. Why was he so nice to everybody else but you? What had you ever done to him to make him hate you so much?

You kept your eyes on the girl, knowing full well that you shouldn’t have. You hated that — even on your night off, even when you had just broken up with your boyfriend — Hyunjin was still in your mind like an unkillable parasite. You hated the way he tucked his hair behind his ears. You hated how the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled at her. You hated him.

You watched as she leaned in and whispered something in his ear, causing him to laugh. That was the last straw. In a drunken haze, you took your phone and bolted out the door, ignoring the concerns of all your classmates. Maybe it had been a mistake breaking up with Jisung. Maybe he really did know what was best for you.

Stumbling out onto the street, you tried to dial Jisung’s phone number. It proved to be too difficult of a task, however, as your drunken fingers could only tap on random numbers on the screen. You cried out of frustration.

“Y/n.”

The voice coming from behind you startled you, causing you to lose your grip on the phone. It dropped on the cement with a loud crack. Tears welled up in your eyes as you bent down to pick up your phone. There was a huge crack right down the middle of the screen.

“You cracked my phone,” you said, trying to keep your composure.

“So? It’s not like it’s worth much anyways. Just ask your boyfriend to buy you one.” Hyunjin’s evil eyes squinted down at you.

“Why are you still on about this? Hyunjin, I’ve never used anybody for money and I never will!” You couldn’t control the tears flowing down your face. “Plus, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I broke up with Jisung today.”

You didn’t know why you were spilling your guts to the last man in the world you would trust. Surely, it was the alcohol.

“Y/n.” His tone had completely changed. He almost looked — concerned?

“Whatever, Hyunjin,” you slurred. “Just leave me alone. You can go back to that girl and have your fun with her.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t care.”

“Y/n, why do you care?” His tone got louder.

“I don’t!” you yelled at him. Your tears made everything even more blurry.

“Y/n! Tell me, why do you care?!” He spat back at you with just as much fury.

“Fuck you, Hyunjin. News flash, not everything in the world revolves around you and your rich and prestigious life. Maybe you wouldn’t be so toxic if you would just understand that.” You screamed at him through your sobs. “Also, I don’t know where you got this stupid story of my being a cash whore from, but I will say this one last time: I have worked for everything in my life and I have never and will never use anybody for their money.”

Hyunjin looked back at you, shocked. You stared back at him in disgust. Not wanting to waste anymore time on him, you stumbled down the street to look for a taxi. However, as you wobbled down the pavement, everything became even blurrier than before. You felt nauseous. You couldn’t control it anymore.

You threw up. All over the sidewalk. You couldn’t stop. Every time you thought that it was over, more and more came out. Your throat burned, and it wasn’t just the alcohol.

As you hurled out all the remains of today’s lunch, your hair was held back.

“Get away from me, Hyunjin,” you groaned. You didn’t want him to see you this weak.

“Who else is gonna take care of your drunk ass, idiot,” he mumbled.

That was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

It was a blinding white light that woke you up. You groaned, trying to block the light with your forearm. Cracking your neck, you tried to holster yourself up.

You were on a leather couch. Squinting, you surveyed the room you were in. It was clean, spacious. The floor was a white marble — there wasn’t a single speck of dust to be seen. Across from you was an incredibly wide TV with many game consoles scattered around it. You looked behind you. There was a large kitchen island illuminated by warm pendant lights. Sitting at the island, on his laptop, was Hyunjin.

“Wh-what happened to me?”

“You’re the worst fucking drinker I’ve ever seen, that’s what happened.”

You rolled your eyes.

Hyunjin ignored you, standing up and leaving for another room. Less than a minute later, he reappeared with a toothbrush and a roll of toothpaste.

“Go clean up. You look disgusting.”

You snatched the toothbrush from his hands. He pointed over to the bathroom and you trudged your way over. His bathroom was huge, almost bigger than your bedroom at home. You felt as if you were in a hotel.

“Your bathroom is huge.” After washing up, you felt not only cleaner, but more awake. “You’re really living the life with your family’s money, huh.”

Hyunjin sighed, slamming his laptop shut causing you to flinch. “Why, after everything, do you think I’m this rich, pretentious fuck?”

You rolled your eyes. Not this again. “Well, why do you still think I’m this money hungry monster?”

“You really wanna know why, Y/n? It’s because Jisung told me so. He was the one who told me that all those years ago.”

You were shocked. Jisung was the one who told him that? Your ex-boyfriend that you had loved and dated for almost three years? You didn’t want to believe it, you really didn’t, but there was this tiny whisper in the back of your mind telling you that it was true. He had a reason to — Jisung was always going on about how Hyunjin always took from him.

“But Y/n, I-” He stopped mid-sentence.

“You what, Hyunjin?”

He pressed his lips to yours, caressing the back of your head. You were shocked, but almost autonomously, your lips parted feeling the heat of his breath against yours. He pressed his body to yours, running his hand down your waist. His lips, the same lips responsible for his perfect smile, felt so soft against your own. You heard the thuds of his heartbeat as he held you closer.

You broke apart, gasping for breath. The realization of what you had done just hit you.

In a panic, you used your whole strength to push his body away from you. “I-I have to go.”

“Y/n, wait!” Hyunjin called.

You paid him no attention. Instead, you ran across the marble floors, hoisted the front door open, and sprinted out. Hoping that Hyunjin wasn’t following you, found your way outside and took a taxi home.

You sat in silence, trying to process what had just happened. You had just kissed Hyunjin. You had just kissed Hyunjin. Hands shaking, you grasped at the ends of your hair, trying to calm yourself down. Did that just happen?

You were more mad at yourself than at him. How could you have just kissed Hyunjin? You hated him. He was nothing but rude to you, never smiling and always accusing you of things that were clearly lies. He made you feel self conscious, nervous, and everything in between. You hated him.

But he was so sweet on that fateful day in high school. He gave you a new pair of shoes when you had slipped during practice, and he held your hair for you when you were drunk. His hair glistened in the sunlight, his smile made your heart race, and his lips ignited sparks of every colour in the rainbow in your chest.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. You hated how fast you became infatuated with him on that day in high school, and no matter how much you tried to deny it, you hated that your feelings haven’t changed ever since. You hated Hwang Hyunjin. You hated that you loved him.

Curling up in your bed, there was no stopping the tears flowing down your face. You cried and cried upon this realization, and you remained this way for the rest of the day. The effect Hyunjin had on you was bigger than you ever expected, and you hated it.

At school, you tried to avoid as many people as possible. The kiss you had shared with Hyunjin was plaguing your mind, distracting you and igniting the fire that was your inner turmoil. Even the thought of Hyunjin put a strain in your heart. It was the way his breath fanned over your nose, gently tickling it like a bird’s feather and the soft silk of his blonde locks brushing up against your cheeks.

You shook your head, trying to erase any and every thought of that man. Walking to your locker, you were stopped in your tracks, the dam in your eyes starting to crack. You couldn’t do this today. You turned around to go somewhere else — anywhere else.

“Y/n, wait.”

You sniffed, wiped stray tears from your eyes, and picked up your pace.

“Y/n.” He grabbed your shoulder, turning you around to face him.

“Hyunjin, please, I can’t do this today.”

“Are you… Are you crying?” He touched your face, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Y/n, why are you crying?”

You shook your head. You were scared of what would happen if you opened your stupid mouth.

“Y/n, please.” Hyunjin begged. His voice was shaking. “Tell me why.”

You shook your head again.

“Y/n, please.” His voice cracked.

“Hyunjin,” you paused, taking a shaky breath, “it’s because I love you. I’ve loved you ever since the first moment you smiled at my pathetic ass. Even when you hurt me more than anyone has hurt me before… I never had a choice, Hyunjin. It’s always been you.”

You tore yourself away from Hyunjin, embarrassed to your core. That was the most humiliating thing you’ve ever done, but at least you had closure now.

“Y/n…”

“No, Hyunjin. You’ve torn me down and humiliated me enough already. What more could you possibly want?” You demanded, aware that everybody around you was staring.

“Y/n,” Hyunjin rasped, “It’s only ever been you. I’ve spent the last three years miserable knowing that you were with someone else. I’ve-I’ve never even been with another girl in the past three years. I know you have no reason to believe me because I was such an ass. I am such an ass. Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for projecting my insecurities on you, I’m sorry for accusing you of things I know you’ve never done, and I’m sorry for anything else I might have fucking done. Y/n, I love you. Please, I don’t fucking deserve it, but is there any way you could forgive me?”

You stared at Hyunjin’s bloodshot eyes, tears freely flowing down your cheeks, and before you could even think, you found yourself pressed against his lips. Your eyes closed, savouring the feeling of his soft lips touching your own. His wet cheek pressed against your own, and with a nudge of the nose, Hyunjin deepend the kiss with a raw passion in which you’ve never felt before.

You cradled his head, relishing in his silken blonde hair as you brushed your fingers through his locks. He sighed in response, his breath tickling against your cheek. You were fully aware that everyone on campus had seen both your messy confessions of love, but you didn’t care. All you could do was replay the moment that Hyunjin had said those words — those three tiny words — over and over in your head as you ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his soft, honey lips.

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mysmegrace · 3 years ago

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hey i hope your game is working normally again , can i please request the rfa with an mc who has a part time job as an animator/artist ?

hello~ yes, my game is working well now! i think it might've been the network (i heard like a day later that something happened to it, idk exactly im not very tech savvy lol). i love the request btw.

RFA with an MC who Has a Part Time Job as an Animator/Artist

--- yoosung kim:

the pandemic had effect many things in your lives.

from his university classes to your late night outs.

one of the upsides you found in the time was the fact that you could work straight from your bed now.

you couldn't think of anything better

waking up ten minutes before your start time and sleeping in the comfort of your home during your breaks.

life was finally going in your favour.

and yoosung was in a similar position.

only he wasn't working, just attending university.

the sequence of events had led you to this moment.

you had woken up alongside the sun to start your work for the day, yoosung laying right beside you about to join a class.

you rose your head every once and while to give him a smile of encouragement, yet he wasn't getting the message.

did you want to do something right here?

right now?

while he's just joined a class?

with his cheeks becoming visibly more red, he reckoned a little affection wouldn't hurt.

it wasn't like the teacher could see him.

and he wasn't about to lie and say he was paying attention anyway.

going to wrap his arm behind your neck, he glances upon your project for work.

from the first second he laid eyes on it, it amazed him.

his curiosity was peaked as he started questioning your occupation.

he'd come to realize that he never actually asked about your job, he just knew you had one.

"i'm an animator, i only work part time though" you said with a hint of pride evident in your voice.

he was becoming increasingly more intrigued.

but after you explained many of the ups and downs of your part time job, he gave you his full support.

even asking if you'd be willing to teach him some time.

but nothing too hard, he doesn't want to embarrass himself.

after his class was over, you offered to show him your past works, in which he welcomes with open arms.

you continue to knock him off his feet.

hyun ryu / zen:

"zen zen, what do you think about this?" you ran up to him saying with excitement.

he looks up to meet your eyes after you caught his attention, before redirecting his focus to the tablet you held in front of him.

he was stunned.

it wasn't something he was expecting.

he never knew you were so good at drawing.

with his mouth hung slightly open, he began saying "it's amazing mc, how did you do this?"

he was truly floored, and you took notice of it.

"i've been drawing from a young age and now i make art part time for people who would like to buy my work" you explained.

he was insanely supportive from the get go.

knowing that you were able to make an income from your passion was comforting to him.

being glad you were able to achieve these accomplishments, he wouldn't want to let you work on your own.

granted he couldn't help you, his art wasn't one somebody would invest in.

but he could help in other ways.

hence why he offers to bring you supplies, help with project ideas, and love you from the sidelines.

jaehee kang:

"i've gotta make it to my other job now jaehee, but i'll see you later" you screamed as you ran to catch the bus.

the day was a success, going out with jaehee and shopping together.

however, your words had completely caught her off guard.

shes aware that you two haven't known each other for a long time, but it didn't change the shook that came over her when she heard.

sitting down, catching your breath from the short run you just came from, you decided to check your phone.

after all, there's not much else to do on the bus.

not too long after your departure, you receive a text from jaehee.

"i wasn't aware you had another job, what is your part time job?" it read.

oh, right.

you hadn't told her yet.

but what time was better than now?

"i'm an animator" you responded, waiting in suspense for the next text.

and you weren't waiting long, as the familiar sound of your messenger went off.

"animator? that's really awesome mc, can you show me some of your work?" it read.

you could feel as the smile creeped up your face, not able to hold back your excitement.

yet wasting little time, you send several screen recordings of your previous work that has done incredibility well.

"i'm speechless, that's so amazing" jaehee responded after a few minutes.

the overwhelming of positive emotions that had just come over you wasn't unwelcomed as you held the phone ever so closely.

knowing jaehee was proud of you was enough to make you cry tears of joy.

jumin han:

"but how was your day mc?" he says, changing the topic.

he had come home with the fatigue slowly overcoming him.

the fact that his father had introduced him to a new girl wasn't exactly helping either.

you wanted to talk to him about it more, but you knew better than to make him keep reliving the moment and experiencing the same emotions again.

hence why you took him up on his offer to change the topic.

"well, i finished my recent art project" you said, sipping the wine your husband had recently poured for you.

you watched as his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"art project?" he questioned, encouraging you to elaborate.

and that you did, explaining how you made art for people as a part time job.

staying quiet for a second, redirecting his focus to the red liquid in front of him.

suddenly, he speaks up, saying "let me see it".

with a quick nod, you hop out of the seat to go pick up the project.

only to return a few seconds later, handing your artwork to him.

you watched intensely, following his eyes as he examined the piece in his hands.

"i'm quite impressed" he says, eyes not leaving the art.

"thank you" you mustered up in response through your excitement.

hearing that jumin was impressed by your skills made your day.

the conversation ended at the same speed it started, soon changing the topic.

but the new expensive supplies that laid in your little make-shift office was a reminder that he always had your best interests in mind.

as long as he could make you happy, life would be fine.

saeyoung choi:

"hey, i made that!" you practically screamed with excitement.

your time has finally come, the time you had been dreaming about since you were a little girl.

growing up on anime to seeing your animations being used in an anime made your life complete.

your attention broke as saeyoung reminded you of his presence, saying "wait, you made that?"

you turned to face his laying figure on the couch, nodding aggressively with a huge smile plastered across your face.

he always told you how contagious your smile was, and his point was proved as he began to duplicate your excited smile.

standing up to hug you, he started questioning you as if he were cosplaying an interviewer.

""when did you do this?"

"why did you do this?"

"how did you do this?"

you had to place your hand firmly on his chest to calm him down.

giving you time to explain your part time job as an animator.

how you've dreamed of this as a child and how grateful you were to be able to pursue your passion.

and saeyoung couldn't be prouder.

he felt like a father watching his child receive their first award.

your happiness made him feel incredible.

and your talent astonished him.

after the initial excitement died down, he offered his help in any way possible.

anonymous, of course.

he would do anything to make you happy.

achieving your dreams was something he never experienced until he met you, and he would never let you down.

---

00:32 AST - 08/10/21

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generous1ty · 4 years ago

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AHHHHHHH!!! I JUST SAW YOUR HEADCANONS OF NAGITO BEING A PHOTOGRAPHER AND IM DBSJHSEH-

Nagito is just so cute and you write him perfectly! I always thought that he’d take pictures of his S/O like the whole time but mostly degrade himself for it but NDVSJDH 💖

Also to your last previous response yes, it was evening I FORGOT DJDGJD- and I understand that you’re impatient with your drafts, but just let me know whenever you need help!! :)

I was thinking about Nagito being a professor now and meeting his S/O, while dreaming about Hajime taking his S/O on a motorcycle at night although it’s not real SJSGJSSH-

BAJSHBAJB I EDITED IT A BIT BECAUSE I FORGOT TO PUT SOMETHING IN THERE

AAA thank you!!! i’m glad you think i write him well! Nagito’s character is very complex, so i always feel like i don’t do him enough justice bdknds- although, yes, his self-degradation rants do happen, he’s improving slowly. :)

also thank you for the offer!! i’ll be sure to keep that in mind.

as for your ideas...

✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑ ✑

Literature Teacher Nagito?? BIKER Hajime????

genre: fluff/misc. warnings: suggestive topics, kind of self-deprecating humor(??), mild swearing, gene dying throughout the whole post because what these are so cute

◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇

Nagito as a Literature teacher,,,

loud, stern, harsh yet very kind + caring. the iconic literature teacher that lgbtqia+ kids are naturally drawn to/get along with. that teacher practically everyone has a crush on at least once in high school. absolute icon.

“you’ve gotta get your assignments in, kid. i don’t know what’ll help you or what’s going on, but right now you’ve got a few things missing and we can’t have your grade falling more than it already has,”

HE USES HUMOR AS A WAY TO SELF-DEGRADE HIMSELF i have no idea if that made sense but it’s like um

“now, understand that Francis left her hometown pretty quickly-- just like my first girlfriend. if we put that into context with the events happening in the story now-”

AND I’M BAWLING HE CAN’T BE LIKE THAT

he’s so,, so helpful. you need help? oh, yeah! he’s always open to help you!

just so,,, passionate. he’s so invested in his job and you can see it it’s literally so cute

he can’t deal with middle school kids. he’s either a high school teacher(preferably 10th and up) or a college professor, there is nothing more or less than that

what teacher are you??? it doesn’t matter, he falls in love with you anyway. you listen to his rants about books, you actually read the books he suggested to you?? like “wow this person is so,, amazing wow”

he usually suggests mystery and dystopian books to you, as those are some of the genres that have peaked his interest the most. he knows books of all genres though, so if you ask for a suggestion? he’s got one for you!!

HIS FLIRTING IS SUGGESTING YOU ROMANCE BOOKS and maybe books with some,,, rated X scenes if you catch my drift BAHAHAH

AND HE ALSO leaves little sticky notes in the books to like,, peak your interest in the book again if you’re easily distracted/lose interest easily. they’re just small messages like “i really enjoyed this arc! i hope you do as well. :)” and “you’re almost there!! good job!”

gets you coffee with the books you borrow from him, maybe a pastry if he’s got enough money

please like him he’s doing his best

BIKER Hajime???

BIKER HAJIME ABSKJD

he,,, so fancy,,,, aggressive/distant attitude fits so well with this role and i am LIVING for it

he’s like,,, the big brother of the gang he’s in. very attentive, knows what everyone likes and dislikes, very protective of everybody,,,,

and holy shit is he intimidating but it’s so h o t.

he’s that tall, intimidating boyfriend that scares away all the gross people away from you(especially if he’s jealous).

so,,, so protective,, it can get overwhelming at times, and you have to remind him because he literally doesn’t know that for normal people, being that protective isn’t-- well,,, normal.

has probably been through a lot through the years with the gang, and he’s scared of opening up.

the last time he did that the dude who had disguised himself as a new member had beat him up because he was apart of the rival biker gang, and practically started a war between he two bunches of bikers.

he’s learned to hide and cope with his emotions through excessive violence and aggressive actions-- please show this man how to cope better

i feel like,,, he’d love music. there’s no reason for it(and it’s not that normal Hajime doesn’t enjoy music), it’s just that.. it calms him down. it makes him think in the moment and not “what’ll happen in the future” or “what happened in the past”. it really grounds him; makes him feel... safe.

as for the actual bikes YES HE DRIVES YOU AROUND ON HIS MOTORCYCLE AROUND MIDNIGHT WITH HIS PHONE ON FULL BLAST PLAYING REALLY CALMING MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND yes he does

takes you anywhere you want!! literally

he has this once place where you can see the city, sky, and moon so clearly...it’s breathtaking. it’s a tall cliff on the outskirts of town, about a 30 minute drive without any traffic.

it’s his secret place. somewhere he goes to rant to no one and let all his worries free.

he’s still super stupid awkward though-- he still can’t flirt or make any smooth moves unless he’s occupied with something else. like:

he’ll pull you closer to him, glaring at the person trying to hit on you, “don’t touch them. they’re mine.” and things like that

HE’S SO ATTRACTIVE IN BIKER ATTIRE AAAAAA

#nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #komaeda nagito x reader #hajime x reader #hinata x reader #hajime hinata x reader #hinata hajime x reader #x reader #nagito headcanons #hajime headcanons #dr2 headcanons #sdr2 headcanons #generous writings #shu you GENIUS #MUAH ily #fluffy shu

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

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Pink lady

Note - For the lovely @lielullabyes 500 followers challenge! Congrats babe🥰🥰

And for @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18s challenge and birthday! I'm sorry I'm a bit late! Hope y'all like it❤❤

Summary - You try to convince your professor to give you a better grade.

Warnings - smut, age gap, professor/student relationship, deep throating, cock warming.

Prompts - professor!character x student!reader for snow

Gif prompt + your professor has a different kind of extra credit in mind for navy and siri

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - almost 4k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You closed your eyes rubbing them to sooth the dryness. You had a long day and getting anything through your thick skull was turning out to be a challenge.

Of course it would. You were never an amazing student. You just studied the night before the exam and cramped whatever you could, writing what you remember on the test the next day. And yeah it wasn’t the most ideal way to study but it had worked so far for you. You got by alright.

It was more of all the shitty professors you’ve ever had than your fault. None of them could ever get you really interested in their subjects. They either didn’t care enough or only knew how to abuse their power.

But then he walked into your class. He was pretty enough to be a model or an actor. You just assumed he was someone famous. You felt as if you’ve met him before, as if you’ve known him your whole life. You were shocked to hear he was your new criminology professor, along with being a DA. Which has to be a demanding job.

It was impossible to not listen to him when he spoke, his voice so smooth like honey, carrying hints of a Boston accent he let slip whenever he got too passionate, which was quiet often.

He had broad shoulders and thick biceps he hit under those expensive suits and dress shirts. But it was more than that. He acted as if he cared. About his students, about the things he was teaching you. He always encouraged questions and helped everyone with their doubts. He had you on the edge of your seat with every word he said.

He even knew all the students by their names. Well... everyone except you.

You never interacted much in your classes, too afraid to make a fool of yourself in front of your dream man. So you had decided to buckle down and study as much as you can so you can finally raise your hand when he asked a question. How amazing it would be to hear him say ‘Good job' to you.

Maybe it isn’t classy to harbor such sinful thoughts about your professor. But the way his pants stretched over his round butt, hugging his long legs and creasing as he leaned against the edge of his table, his thick dark beard framing his face so perfectly, was just so mesmerizing. He was sex on legs. Were you really to blame here?

You had made sure to get to class ten minutes early so you could sit on the first bench. To get a close up look at the show. He was talking about something, you couldn’t really focus on. Your eyes stuck to his crotch, and how you could clearly see the imprint of his...

“Shit” You whispered as you heard him call out your surname, suddenly realising that he had his eyes on you.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“Wh – I – don’t really think a lot.” You stammered “I’m sorry what was the question?” You cringed at yourself.

“Try to pay attention next time.” He scolded you as you cowered under his intense gaze, his lips set in a hard line as he went back to addressing the whole class and resuming his lecture.

He didn’t even spare a look at you the rest of the class. You had to keep your tears at bay. It would’ve been better if you were invisible to him. Anything would be better than being publicly humiliated like that.

You decided then and there that you don’t like him. Sure you weren’t paying attention but how dare he point that out? He would never do that to anyone else. What the fuck did he have against you.

Nope. You were going to hate him now and bear him till the end of the semester. But then, all your resolve went out the window as soon as he turned around to write something on the board, giving everyone a nice view of his 'cute bubble butt'. At least that’s what you heard someone else call it. Although the kind of feelings it gave you were anything but cute.

After two long torturous hours the class was dismissed. You scrambled to pack up your bag. You were about to leave your, but body stopped of its own accord when you heard him call out your surname again. Sending shivers down your spine. You took a deep breathe turning around to look at him, your mouth suddenly dry and your hands clammy and sweaty.

“Yes professor Barber?” You asked as you stood a few feet away from him, staring at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. You could not look at his face. You would melt on spot and make an idiot of yourself, again.

You cursed as he walked towards you standing just in front. You had never been so close to him before, you could smell his musky cologne, feel his hot breath on your forehead.

“Don’t you think it’s rude to not look at your professor when speaking to him?” He asked cocking his head.

He couldn’t but feel proud and satisfied as you complied so easily, looking up at him. The tip of your tongue peaked out to lick your lip before your lower lip was caught in your teeth as you chewed harshly on it. A very distracting habit of yours. He really had to resist the urge to groan.

He wondered if you knew you were so cruelly teasing him or if you were as oblivious as you seemed to be.

He was excited when he was offered a position to be a teacher, a chance to shape young minds. To make a larger difference in the world. He stayed up all night preparing for his first lecture. He was always thorough with his work. He had made up his mind to do his best and be a good teacher.

But he knew he was ruined as soon as his eyes landed on you.

He wasn’t one for making friends. Always having trouble trusting people. Especially in his profession. It wasn’t that he was shy. He hated small talk and just didn’t have a lot to say, unless he was in a courtroom, even if he did he wasn’t always sure how he should say it.

But when he and his colleagues had a win on a particularly hard case, bringing down a huge mob after working tirelessly for over 3 months, he agreed to go out for drinks to celebrate. He did need to wind down a bit. When he wasn’t at the office he was at home either working or sleeping.

He was sitting on the bar stool with Henry the paralegal he had come to like the guy. He had been a huge help with the case. Henry was going on about his daughters biology project when Andy felt a tap on his shoulder he looked over his shoulder before turning around to get a proper you.

There you stood, leaning against the bar with a dopey grin on your face. He couldn’t help but do you a once over, looking you up and down, you were wearing a hot pink dress that hugged your waist before flaring over your hips. He smiled at your cute kitten heels with small white bows on them. You looked so beautiful, your hair tied up in a high ponytail as curls framed your sweet face.

“Hello mister businessman mister!” You giggled before covering your mouth as you let out a hiccup. “Oops excuse me.”

“I’m not a businessman.” He smiled shaking his head.

“Well you sure do look like one!” you laughed weakly punching his bicep “Oh my gosh” You gulped pressing his bicep in your palm “You must work out.”

“I dabble here and there.” He said waving it off as if it wasn’t a big deal “Can I buy you a drink? Are you old enough to be here?” He wondered.

“I’ll have you know I’m more than old enough” You said proudly. Normally, he would never even consider flirting with someone who looked so young, but for some reason he just couldn’t stop. “Yes I will have a drink. Wait no! No I won’t!” You gasped.

“That’s probably a good idea. You seemed to have had plenty. How about a coffee?” He offered.

“Nope I’m fine. I’m here for my friend Stacey. She likes you.” You drawled out moving your hips side to side dancing to a tune stuck in your head.

“And you don’t like me?” He pouted.

“Noooo” You whined cupping his beard in your hands. He kept pouting to milk some more sympathy from you but was completely taken aback when you pressed your soft cushiony lips over his. You pulled back staring into his eyes and said “I like you a lot! But sisters before misters you know. I couldn’t do that to my friend.” And now you were the one pouting.

He heard Henry clear his throat behind him “I’ll just go on home then. See you tomorrow man.” Andy couldn’t be bothered to turn around to say goodbye, his eyes completely focused on you.

“Oh no your friend left. Whatever you’re going home with Stacey anyway.” You looked around for your friend “Where is she? Oh no! She’s not here.”

Andy frowned looking around the bar with you “Don’t worry she must be in the bathroom or something. Why don’t you try calling her?”

You whipped out your phone from your bag. Your lips starting quivering and eyes turned glossy as you looked at it. “Hey what happened?” His instincts screaming at him to sooth your panic state. He just ran his hand up and down your forearm, there wasn’t much else he could do without seeming like a creep.

“My friend left! She said she went home with a wall street guy. Left me all alone.”

He frowned at that. “Your friend doesn’t deserve you.” He stated as if he knew you. He didn’t but he knew how loyal you were to your friend when you turned him down. Who would abandon such a sweet thing like you?

“And we were gonna go to dinner and everything.” You sniffled “I’ll have to walk home now.”

“No you won’t.” He blurted clenching his jaw. He knew just how bad men could be. He would never let a clearly inebriated woman go home alone.

Sure in any other case he would’ve called or even paid for an taxi. But he couldn’t say goodbye to you just yet. So he offered to take you home. And with some convincing you agreed.

He secured you into the passenger seat before putting your address in the GPS. He found himself laughing more than he ever had at your incoherent drunken ramblings.

“Do you believe in aliens?” Before he could even answer you continued “What if this is all just a simulation. By aliens. Like what if we’re in a tv show. That’d be awesome.” You leaned against the window, closing your eyes.

“Are you this funny when you’re sober?” He wanted to know. Although he had an inkling that you definitely would be.

“Yes I am! But my friends tell me I talk too much.” You said scrunching up your nose.

“I could listen to you talk all night. But I think we’re here.” He said parking across a building. “is this it?”

“Yeah” You nodded. “You’re right dude. They don’t deserve me.”

“Don’t call me dude.” He grumbled. You call your friends ‘dude’. And he had no intentions of being just a friend to you.

“Fine dude” You chuckled. “Do you have a pen?” You asked.

“Uh I think” He felt his pockets and then pulled out a fountain pen he always carried around with him.

You took it from him and shook your head. “You business men and your pens” You snatched his arm and started writing something on his palm.

“I keep telling you I’m not a business man.” He argued.

His heart swelled with giddiness as he saw you write down numbers on his open palm.

“Call me if you wanna hear me talk some more, ‘night.” You struggled to open the door before stumbling out. He made sure you got inside your building safely before he entered your number in his phone. He didn’t ask your name, too caught up in your rant about women’s jeans not having pockets. So he just saved it as ‘pink lady’.

He was so excited to hear from you again that he called you the next morning. Only you had given him the wrong number. He didn’t know if it was a mistake or if you had just lead him on. He considered maybe ‘accidentally’ bumping into you near your apartment. But then he saw you. In his class, as his student.

You didn’t seem to remember him but obviously had a crush on him. You weren’t such a confident talker without the influence of alcohol, the one time he asked you what your name was you just replied with ‘I’ve never had one.’ Which was adorable but also infuriating.

Was he so damn forgettable? How did you manage to do such a number on him, so much so that you haunted his wet dreams, but you had completely forgotten about him and the whole encounter. Going about your merry life, your mind not plagued with such unprofessional and unethical thoughts.

He wanted to know you. To hear you ramble some more or be awkward. Literally anything but the cold shoulder you were giving him. So he did a bad thing. He called you out when you were clearly too busy ogling him. He revelled in the sick pleasure he got from embarrassing you.

“Why don’t we go talk in my office?” He suggested and collected his books without waiting for your answer. You both made your way over to his office, you following a few steps behind him. “After you.” He said as he held the door open for you.

He locked the little latch as he closed the door, instructing you to take a seat. He wasn’t sure why he had called you over. It wasn’t like he could actually act on his feelings. Or ask you if you remembered him at all. It would be out of the question. He would get fired from the university, his reputation would be tarnished.

He took a seat at his desk shuffling through the papers in his drawer and brought one out on the desk.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he took in your demure state. How you had made yourself so small across him. He decided then. He couldn’t possibly not do anything about his feelings. Once his mind was set on something he HAS to have it.

Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to simply bend you over the desk and take you in the most primal way possible. But he could wait. In just a few months you would graduate and he would ask you out. There was a possibility that you would turn him down. Again. But he’d take his chances and get what he wanted. He always did.

“Your grades aren’t doing so well Miss L/N” He said passing the paper over to you. “It’s a C. You barely passed. If you don’t get a B or up in your next exam you won’t pass my class.” As much as he loved seeing you everyday he needed you to graduate so he could have his way with you.

“Oh” You let out as you looked at the test.

“That’s all you have to say? What’s wrong? Do you not understand my teaching?” To which you shook your head no “Maybe you should focus on your studies before going to clubs and getting drunk.” He spit leaning back in his chair. He knew he was being harsh, but he also knew that you needed some tough love.

“I – clubs?” You looked up at him and frowned “I don’t go to clubs! How would you know anyway?”

“Oh so you don’t remember.” He sneered not taking too kindly to being forgotten so easily. “January’s last Thursday. You were wearing a pink dress.”

You looked as if you were in deep thought before your eyes widened almost popping out of their sockets. “Oh my god! You’re that business man!” You gasped.

“Listen closely. Because I won’t say it again. I’m not a business man. I’m a district attorney and your professor.” He said sternly as he threw his head back loosening his tie so frustrated with you. He’d have to be patient. Something he very obviously wasn’t. It’s alright. You were worth waiting for.

“Sorry” You mumbled half heartedly. You knew you remembered him from somewhere. You thought you had dreamt of meeting a handsome and charming business man. Apparently you were wrong. “Why am I here professor Barber?” You asked.

“I told you. You need to get your grades up.”

“Yeah but I’m sure many other students must’ve gotten a C or lower as well. Why are you so concerned with me? What’s so special about me?” You spit with an accusatory tone.

“I care about all my students.” It wasn’t a lie. He did. He just cared about you a little bit more.

“Uh – huh. Then why did you lock the door?”

“I didn’t want anyone to disturb us.” He cleared his throat as he sat up straight in his seat.

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Why? What are you gonna do about it?” You asked before exaggeratedly rolling them again.

He scoffed “You’re such a brat.” He shook his head. “I’ll have you straightened up in less than a week when you’re mine.”

You hummed at that. “In your dreams old man.”

“You’ll see sweetheart. I just have to wait till June.”

“Well how about you can have a little taste now? I can give you something if you can change my grade.” You offered biting your lips again.

He groaned at the tempting offer and sight “There’s nothing you can give me that will change my mind.”

“Isn’t there?” You got up and walked around the desk to him, exaggeratedly swaying your hips.

He moved in his chair to look at you kneeling between his legs. Rubbing your hands on his thighs.

“I’m sure I can change your mind.” You said confidently as you undid his buckle and pulled down his zipper.

“I doubt it.” A thought of maybe stopping you as you took his hard cock out of his briefs came to him. But then you looked at his length with such awe, as if you were admiring it.

“You like it?” He smirked.

You could only nod your head and try your best to not drool. “It’s the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen.” You admitted. It was also the biggest, his rosy mushroom head slippery with precum, couple of blue veins adorning his thick shaft. You could wait to suck the life out of him.

“How many dicks have you seen?” He frowned. He didn’t really liking you thinking about anyone else’s dick, not when his was right in front of you. “Never mind. Finish what you started.” His impatience took over him as he pushed your head down, forcing you to open your mouth and swallow him whole. He moaned at the feeling of your warm wet mouth wrapped around him. “Relax your throat.” He ordered as he pushed deeper into you.

Sighing deeply as his tip hit the back of your throat, groaning as you choked around him before swallowing. “That’s it good girl.” He praised caressing your jaw. Rubbing away the tears cascading down your cheeks.

He pulled some papers out of his bag as your raised your brows at him. “I need to get some work done sweetheart.” He shifted his hips to sit back on his chair. “How about you keep me warm till then?” He said as you whined “What? Do you have other plans?”

You shook your head as he muttered a “Good” And started going through his paperwork. “You can swallow honey. But that’s all you can do. Don’t you dare move.” He warned.

It was proving to be quiet a task. He couldn’t really focus on anything but your mouth and how he wanted to just fuck it and you stupid. But he was teaching you a lesson. He had to wait a while before he came down your throat. Besides this would give him an opportunity to really savor the feel of you.

You laid your head on his thigh as he flipped through his papers for the next half an hour. Suckling here and there to not mess up his pants. When you realised that he might be interested in you, even just a little. You hoped he would just take you, make your dreams come true. You had no idea what the fuck this shit about waiting was. But you were too afraid to say no to him.

He haphazardly put down his pen. Releasing a shaky breath he finally took hold of your head. Rolling his hips a little, he pulled his length out and pushed it back in. Setting a slow and steady pace, knowing that he’d come all too soon.

You moaned as his hand went down to cup your breast fondling it so gently. He lost it as he felt the little vibrations “Do it again” He demanded as you moaned around his length. He held onto the back of your throat driving his hips up a couple of times before spilling in your throat. “Swallow it all.” He ordered as he pulled out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’.

He groaned as he as your throat swallow a gulp “Clean me up. I have to go to work.” He pushed his tip against your lips as your tongue peaked out and licked what you couldn’t swallow and your spit off of him. You gave his tip a last kiss before tucking him back in his pants.

You stood up on wobbly feet, straightening the wrinkles in your dress. You went over to your chair cleaning your mouth up with a hanky Professor offered. “So you’ll change my grade now?” You pushed your test towards him.

He laughed “We never agreed to that sweetheart.”

“But I – but we – but I just!”

He shushed you putting his papers back in his bag “That would be unethical. You’ll be coming to my house for lessons. We have to make sure you graduate. Are you free tonight?” He looked up as you nodded “Good. Then we’ll decide if you��re worthy of a reward.” He pulled his laptop bag over his shoulder as he walked towards the door, unlatching it and holding it open for you. “I’ll see you tonight sweetheart.”

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and feedback are appreciated! ❤❤

Beautiful dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

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feralphoenix · 4 years ago

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SONGS OF RESISTANCE: The View Myla Grants Us Of Hallownest’s Moths

hello again hollow knight fandom, i am back with my picante takes and ready to discuss two things i love: myla hollowknight and the moth tribe! Let Us Be Sad About Them Together.

as with my previous essay i’m going to be putting this fellow up on dreamwidth later for accessibility purposes since my layout text may be too small for high-res pc users. this time i’ll be attaching that in a reblog to avoid this post getting eaten by the dread tungle algorithms.

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay discusses colonialism and genocide both in real life and the fictional depictions in Hollow Knight, as well as racism in the zombie horror genre and in fandom.

ALSO: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of this particular part of hollow knight worldbuilding/lore is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay

SONGS OF RESISTANCE: THE VIEW MYLA GRANTS US OF HALLOWNEST’S MOTHS

In this house we are all love Myla.

Well, in all fairness, there are probably plenty of Hollow Knight fans who aren’t interested in her character, since which fictional characters one attaches to is always a matter of personal preference. But she’s still well-loved for a minor NPC and inspires a high level of devotion in her fans. There’s nothing that whips folks into a frenzy like a cute character you can’t do anything to help, and unlike some other characters in Hollow Knight Myla’s fate leaves no room for ambiguity. Once you pick up the Crystal Heart you’re left with only two choices: Avoid her, or kill her.

A lot of Hollow Knight’s world is designed to make you care about it so that it will hurt more when Ghost’s violent skillset proves too limited to save something or someone. The consequences of Hallownest’s founding and policies have directly or indirectly caused a great deal of damage to everything, and chief among those consequences with massive damage and a wide splash range is the Infection. Much has been said elsewhere by other people about Hollow Knight’s predominating mood being a struggle against futility, with Ghost arriving at the eleventh hour and every new tragedy designed to make the player more desperate to find something actionable, only finding out by trial and error what’s beyond your personal ability to save.

Myla, in that sense, is a typical example of that worldbuilding. She’s a particular kind of stock character in the zombie horror genre, the innocent who falls victim to the plague and cannot be saved, wrenching audience hearts and demonstrating the stakes.

But Hollow Knight plays with the trappings of zombie horror in a very unusual way, one I find thematically fascinating.

For a quick overview, the “zombie” as we know it in popular culture is an appropriation of a voudou (the Black American spiritual practice) concept that deals with the fear of slavery killing one’s spirit. (People more versed in/with roots in voudou culture can give a much more comprehensive overview than this simplistic one.)

The zombie horror genre, especially in Western media, is part of the great white fragility stock plot trifecta (the other two being alien invasions and robot uprisings). Zombie horror in particular expresses white fears that marginalized ethnic groups will rise up violently in revenge for their mistreatment and destroy white society. The fear of “that which is human, which ‘humanity’ is not” (to borrow mecha visual novel Heaven Will Be Mine’s pithy term) and the extreme levels of violence towards human-but-not bodies typical of zombie horror are often an expression of such bigotries. This is, again, a subject that’s been discussed in greater depth and with more nuance elsewhere.

But what Hollow Knight does is take the ugly metaphors and it makes them literal, makes it harder to ignore the toxic subtext of the genre. The Infection is literally a native god’s revenge on the settlers who committed genocide* against her people. How the Pale King’s colonization of the crater negatively affected the preexisting groups of bugs underpins every level of the worldbuilding, as does Hallownest’s cruelty towards its neighbors.

Hollow Knight is a game that is about the tragedy of Western imperialism. It is one of the work’s central themes. There are a lot of conversations that need to be had about the ways these themes manifest and, on a real-world level, about fandom’s predisposition to avoid the subject.

But, for now, let’s get back to Myla. If she fits such a stock zombie horror archetype, and Hollow Knight uses zombie horror tropes to underline the conversation it attempts to have about colonialism, then what has Myla got to teach us about the overall worldbuilding?

There's two topics I’d like to broach here: First we’ll get into how the circumstances of Myla’s infection fit in to the implied role of Crystal Peak in pre-Hallownest society. Then let’s take a long look at the lyrics of Myla’s song and what it implies.

MYLA, THE CRYSTALS, AND THE HOLY MOUNTAIN

If you think about it, Myla is an interesting outlier compared to the other NPCs we encounter on the verge of succumbing to the Infection. Both Bretta and Sly are unhappy: Bretta is a lonely, anxious bundle of abandonment issues yearning for someone to sweep her off her feet; Sly misses his pupils and loved ones who’ve left him in death (we never learn who Esmy is or what they were to Sly, but we sure can tell they’re not around anymore). The temptation to dream away those sadnesses seems to play a part in their vulnerability to the Infection, and also why Ghost’s interruption brings them back to reality.

Not so Myla. She appears to be blissfully unaware of her fellow miners’ fate, and most of her dialogue prior to her infection (besides the song - we’ll get to that later) is about how much fun she’s having at her job and how much she enjoys Ghost’s occasional company.

Yet she still winds up infected when Ghost’s back is turned. Why?

Not to discard the possibility that Myla’s got her own issues too, but in her case there seems to be another likely cause at hand: The crystals. If hit with the Dream Nail before infected, she mentions that she can hear them “singing” and “whispering”.

Under the The Hunter’s Hot Takes section of the Hunter’s Journal entries on various Crystal Peak enemies, we can learn more about the crystals - particularly in the entries for the Husk Miner and Crystallized Husk.

Crystal Peak’s crystals were thought of as particularly precious in Hallownest and harvested en masse for use in luxury items and the like. To do so, the mining operation was set up throughout most of the mountain, though the area around its peak still remains largely untouched. However, there’s more to the crystals than just that. Like Myla, the Hunter notes that the crystals can be heard to sing very very softly if one listens closely enough.

Perhaps of even more interest than that is this particular comment he gives us, from the Crystallized Husk journal entry: “There is some strange power hidden in the crystals that grow up there in the peaks. They gleam and glow in the darkness, a bright point of searing heat in each one.”

I don’t think it’s a particularly revolutionary idea to point out that there’s some connection between the crystals and Radiance’s power; this is something many players have intuited just based on Myla’s dialogue. But, in order to understand what Myla is demonstrating about the game’s world I think it’s important to think about what that connection is.

Speaking of which, the local Whispering Root has two important clues for us: The phrases “light refracted” and “energy contained”.

The very top of Crystal Peak is one of the only places in the crater where the moths’ architecture has escaped Hallownest destroying it, and is the only place in the entire game setting where their religious iconography remains fully intact. There are stone monuments covered in their language (which has been destroyed with the rest of their culture) and the statue of the Radiance - this is easier to see in the Wanderer’s Journal tie-in book, but the huge stone arches upon the Crown represent Radi’s halo and its rays and encircle her when viewed head-on or from a distance instead of the side view we get in the game.

The crystals grown here were used by the moths to store and cultivate Radiance’s light. It’s impossible to know what sort of architecture/infrastructure existed inside the mountain before Hallownest stole it from the moths. But between the massive scope of her statue and all the texts at the Crown, and the fact that the moths were working with their literal actual god’s freely given power here, it can be safely asserted that Crystal Peak was a holy ground to them.

Hallownest didn’t care about the mind-boggling level of spiritual significance Crystal Peak must have had to the natives, though. To the Pale King and his people, the crystals are just a natural resource to be harvested for personal profit.

This is unfortunately a conflict that still plays out in colonized countries today. If you’re American, #NoDAPL probably comes to mind; Canada, Australia, and New Zealand are filled with these sorts of horror stories too. Settler disrespect for indigenous sacred grounds is a huge problem that needs addressing. If you’re looking at the story of Crystal Peak and thinking it’s very on-the-nose... maybe it needs to be.

Anyway, Myla is nowhere near as miserable as Bretta or Sly, but she still notices that something’s up with these crystals. She hears the voice coming from inside, and she’s curious, and she tries very very hard to listen to it... so she DOES end up hearing Radiance’s voice. Radiance’s real voice, not the songs and whispers inside the crystals: The voice of a frightened, angry, grieving god who knows there’s a new vessel running around in Hallownest, and doesn’t want any part of that. A voice that’s pleading for someone, anyone to kill this dangerous creature, and save her from the threat Ghost poses.

Between how freaked out Radi is to know Ghost is poking around, the tendency we see in her boss battles for her to panic and kneejerk blast things at full volume/vibrance when she’s panicking, and the way her dream broadcast seems to be only a one-way communication line while she’s in the Black Egg... naturally this spells disaster for poor Myla.

Similar to the Moss Prophet, this small tragedy is a demonstration of the eleventh-hour state the conflict is in: The Pale King has escalated this situation so far, and Radiance is so traumatized and isolated, that bystanders who might in a kinder timeline have become Radi’s allies instead get caught up in her AOE. Myla’s definitely not as aware of the overall situation as the Moss Prophet, since she’s a Hallownest bug and not an indigenous one the way they are. But she noticed things were not as they seemed, and she was curious. Who knows what new possibilities could have opened up, if Radiance was able to truly communicate with bugs in the outside world?

Small side note before we move on, but I’ve noticed a tendency among some folks who notice the missed connections to come down extra hard on Radiance and chalk Myla’s infection/Moss Prophet’s death down to deliberate cruelty on her part. I’d like to gently push back against this.

Living in a post-colonial world we all absorb some level of prejudice from our surroundings, and it’s important to take a look at our first assumptions about people (or, in this case, fictional characters lol) to examine whether these prejudices we’ve inherited have influenced those assumptions.

So, if your first instinct is to look at this situation and say the problem is that Radiance is being too harsh and too angry where she should have stepped back and softened her emotions for others’ benefit to gently persuade them to her side... Please think about how when people of color and non-Christians express anger or hurt at our treatment, or even so much as calmly assert our boundaries, white/Christian viewers often view us as much more aggressive and threatening than we actually are. The “angry black woman” trope is a good example of this stereotype. You may want to look up the HuffPost article “Why It’s So Hard to Talk to White People About Racism” and its discussion of white fragility to further understand this phenomenon.

It is absolutely essential to remember the complex power dynamics in play in Hollow Knight and that the Pale King deliberately imprisoned Radiance (who had at this point already gone through an extreme amount of trauma) in a way that would compromise her ability to communicate with others. If you can extend compassion to characters like Ghost or the Pale King and empathize with their motives/feelings when their actions cause harm, but you are not willing to do the same with Radiance... it’s important to sit down with yourself and examine why that is.

THE MEANING BEHIND MYLA’S SONG

Okay, let’s switch gears and take a look at the lyrics to the song Myla sings, since it’s got some interesting things to tell us too.

The first verse, which you can hear from Myla the first time you meet her/before you acquire Vengeful Spirit, goes:

Bury my mother, pale and slight Bury my father with his eyes shut tight Bury my sisters, two by two, And then when you’re done, let's bury me too

There’s not much particularly story-related going on here except foreshadowing that Myla may in fact wind up dying. Most of what we get here is that a) this is a song about burying the dead and b) it’s morbid as fuck.

Curious, a new player might think of the mention of burying the dead; there are a lot of corpses just lyin’ around all over the ground - something that might lead one to believe Hallownest didn’t have such a custom. Later players will discover the Resting Grounds, confirming Hallownest did bury its dead... and that the gravekeepers are all dead too.

Let’s look at the second verse, which Myla remembers and will sing after you pick up Vengeful Spirit:

Bury the knight with her broken nail, Bury the lady, lovely and pale Bury the priest in his tattered gown, Then bury the beggar with his shining crown

This right here is where it gets interesting. The first verse describes the singer’s family as dead or dying, but the people we’re burying now sure do have some parallels to Hallownest's ruling body, don’t they?

Among Hallownest’s Great Knights, three of them - Dryya, Isma, and Ze’mer - were women. They are also very dead or might as well be: Dryya was killed by Traitor Lord’s resistance, Isma is a tree spreading acid through the kingdom’s waters to cut off access to the City of Tears, and Ze’mer hung up her nail after her mantis girlfriend’s death and only lingers on as a revenant.

While there aren’t any characters who are described in-text as “priests” in Hallownest, the idea of a tattered gown might bring Lurien the Watcher to mind, or perhaps the Soul Sanctum’s magicians before they went rogue.

The lovely, pale lady in the song can only refer to the White Lady, Hallownest’s queen. And there’s only one man in the game who has a shining crown: The Pale King. The lyrics are particularly derisive towards him in a way they aren’t to any of the other figures listed, too.

So, it seems like whoever came up with this song didn’t think much of Hallownest. With that in mind it’s hard to think that it originated from any sort of faction loyal to the king.

We’re missing a line from the third verse, which Myla sings after you’ve beaten Soul Master and she’s beginning to become infected. But what we do see of it is Huge in terms of lore:

Bury my body and cover my shell, [...] What meaning in darkness? Yet here I remain I’ll wait here forever ‘til light blooms again

So. The “protagonist” of this song’s family has died, and they expect to die as well, but even unto death they're waiting for Hallownest to fall and the light to return.

The moths became Hallownest’s gravekeepers after the Pale King forcibly assimilated them. Under the Pale King’s light, the moths forgot Radiance and most of their original culture, but Seer tells us in her final monologue that a few individuals remembered just enough to pass bits and pieces down through the generations. This secret resistance among the moths was what kept Radiance alive and prevented her from being sealed away entirely.

This song Myla sings comes from that moth resistance.

Code songs amongst oppressed ethnic groups are very much a real thing, especially when groups have to communicate or signal each other within hostile parties’ hearing. Since I’m American (and had a big ol crush on Harriet Tubman as a little kid lmao!) the first thing that came to mind for me when I made this connection was the working songs escaped Black slaves used in the Underground Railroad.

These have another point in common with the moth gravedigger song Myla sings, in that they enter the general cultural consciousness through out-group people who don’t know the true context. If you ever pick up a book of American baby songs, you’ll probably find some Underground Railroad code songs in there - often because generations ago white kids heard these songs from Black slaves or servants, and went on to sing the same songs to their children with zero awareness of what the songs were really for.

So some Hallownest bug somewhere probably heard the moths’ song and liked it and sang it in a context totally divorced from its original one, and it got spread around and passed down to become one of Myla’s old favorites, with her seemingly not realizing the meaning behind the lyrics. The moths’ song of devotion to their lost god survived them as a people.

This is some VERY realistic and layered worldbuilding. There is so much to glean from just one NPC’s dialogue when put together with other clues. Of course all of it is SAD and DEPRESSING, but Hollow Knight is a tragedy with a super unsubtle point to make about the unsustainability of Western imperialism.

What happens to Myla is awful, and upsetting, and unfair. So was what happened to the moths and their sacred ground, and to Radiance too. It’s important to understand the scope of the conflict that led to all this happening, trace it to its roots, and lay it at the feet of the ones responsible for engendering all this tragedy in the first place: Hallownest and the Pale King.

*A NOTE ABOUT MY USE OF THE TERM “GENOCIDE”

This is a tangent, but since there’s some debate about whether it’s appropriate to define the Pale King’s actions towards indigenous bug nations as genocide, allow me to cite the official definition of genocide here.

The Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (the Genocide Convention for short) defines genocide like this:

Genocide is any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, religious, or racial group, as such:

A) Killing members of the group

B) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group

C) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part

D) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group

E) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group

Among the abovelisted, Hallownest is guilty of A (Deepnest and the moths), B (Deepnest physically/the moths vis a vis brainwashing), C (the mantis tribe and the hive), and E (the moths, which we know from Marmu, and possibly the mosskin also - Isma is mosskin).

Then there is cultural genocide, i.e. acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, religious, or racial group's way of life. Let’s look at the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (DRIP) and how it defines cultural genocide:

A) Any action which has the aim or effect of depriving them of their integrity as distinct peoples, or of their cultural values or ethnic identities

B) Any action which has the aim or effect of dispossessing them of their lands, territories or resources

C) Any form of population transfer which has the aim or effect of violating or undermining any of their rights

D) Any form of assimilation or integration by other cultures or ways of life imposed on them by legislative, administrative or other measures

E) Any form of propaganda directed against them

Hallownest is guilty of every item on this list. A: The moths, attempted with Deepnest. B: The moths, the mantises, the flukes, the mosskin; also attempted with Deepnest. C: The moths, the mantises, the flukes. D: The moths; attempted with the mantises and Deepnest. E: The mantises and Deepnest.

Any sort of discussion of the wide-reaching harm Radiance caused MUST include the context that the Infection is her response to multiple levels of genocide. Discussion that does not include this context loses nuance and simplifies the conflict and power dynamics portrayed in the game in ways that reflect real-life racism and Christian supersessionism.

Now, this is NOT some sort of holier than thou Fandom Purity dunk to say that it’s Bad or Wrong to care about Hallownest’s nobility. Like, one of my favorite characters in this dang game is the White Lady, who spent a long ass time enabling her husband’s actions before she finally walked out on him over the mass infanticide thing. You can, and it is okay to, love TPK and want rehabilitation for him while acknowledging that the dude has done objectively bad things.

I just feel that it’s important to keep things in perspective so that we don’t wind up stirring a bunch of real-world bigotry into our fandom funtimes. A lot of us don’t have the luxury of turning our brains off and simply Not Seeing It, because these same sorts of dynamics are behind a lot of the hardships that threaten our everyday stability.

It’s pretty hard to have conversations about those things in real life if one can’t even recognize them in fiction. So, this might be a good opportunity to start practicing anti-racism so we can better utilize that ideology in real life, where the stakes are much higher.

#hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers #hollow knight meta #myla hollow knight #the radiance #hk myla #hk radiance #essay #long post under cut -

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keltonwrites · 3 years ago

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I bought a house in the middle of nowhere

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.” It was something akin to that, at least. He didn’t mean any mischief, no deceit or planning. It was an honest take on what, at the time, was true. I saw the road into town on Google Maps, noted that it was closed during the winter, acknowledged the reality that a person can own a snowmobile, and I said, “we are not moving there.” But, all good truths are just dares in the making.

And here I am, living in the “there” I said I would not. Two years ago, I left my job at Headspace for a life reset. It was pre-pandemic, and Ben and I were planning a big road trip. Our perfect paradise in Topanga, CA, had crystallized itself as many people’s perfect paradise, and those “many people” all had more money than us. Our options to buy a home were nil, and home-buying was essentially all we wanted. Ben’s a builder and I’m a world builder, and we wanted somewhere to invest that didn’t belong to someone else. We packed the car with the tent and the bikes and the dog and all the things that come with tents and bikes and dogs, and off we went on our own Tour de l’Ouest, looking for a place to call home. We knew what we wanted, knew our odds of finding it, and hit the road anyway. Here was the dream list — concocted by two pie-in-the-sky dummies who married each other:

Not rainy or consistently windy

Notable access to the arts

Remote and challenging to get to/close neighbors

Wild West influenced architecture

Progressive community

Exceptional trail access out the front door

High-speed internet

In our budget

And my personal favorite: had to “feel right” Good luck to us with a list like that, but thus began our hunt. We camped in the snow, tried every dirty chai in the Rockies, and explored every town we could. Whatever a good time it was, it felt useless. Every town Ben was OK with, I hated. Every town I was OK with, Ben despised. And the few places we both loved required money we just didn’t have. We came home with our sails down, limping into the harbor of our rental. But as is the way with romantics, our dreams began to slowly eclipse our reality. Books fell victim to Zillow and Trulia. TV was replaced by the MLS. All writing time was dedicated to Realtor.com. Hours were spent pouring over maps, county records, and updating spreadsheets that tracked price per square foot compared to beds and baths. Over time, all that internetting led to one singular town of 180 people at 10,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado with a road that said “Closed Winters” on Google Maps. Look, I don’t know what happened. Ben found this town on a map, I said don’t be ridiculous, and after a year or so of him telling people I'd never move here, here I am, being ridiculous. Was it reverse psychology? Maybe. Was it the charming “town plan” that mandated all houses be rustic cabins and forbade AirBnB? Could be. Was it the fact that when I looked at Strava’s Heatmap, it showed what seemed like thousands of miles of trails just out the front door? I mean, yes. All these things played a part, but all I know for certain is that one day I woke up and said, “we’re going to move there.” Ben doubted this conviction (and the realities behind it) thus cementing it into place in my head. In a town of 180 people there’s only ~60 houses, which means maybe 2 or 3 get listed per year — but my spreadsheet had the proof: we hadn’t missed our chance yet in this tiny town. The data showed a strong likelihood there would be at least two houses listed within the calendar year. This, however, was also our last chance. The spreadsheet also showed that if we didn’t find a house this year, we wouldn’t be able to afford one the next. We called a realtor, made our case, and harangued her until she believed us that we were truly the kind of yahoos who would move to an avalanche field and stay there. And then it happened. A pocket listing. It was a darling home built in 1890. It had the beds, the baths, and the views. We were the first and only to know. We put in an offer, they agreed, and we would come to see the house in a few weeks. But in those few weeks, the circumstances changed. The sellers lost their own sweet deal, and they couldn’t sell yet. Their agent promised we had right of first refusal, it was only a matter of time. Ben lamented, I preached patience, and we went to see the house that was no longer for sale anyway.

It was a quiet winter morning in Covid when we drove across the packed snow to meet our realtor outside the house. The sun was out and the 13 degrees Fahrenheit felt warm. I unzipped my jacket, mask on my face. I took long videos and talked about where I would set up my office and where we’d put the bikes. As we closed up and I settled into a future where this house would eventually be mine, our realtor told us there were comps in the area — other residents quietly interested in potentially closing out. Would we like to see them? Sure, let’s.

One home came with an incredible commercial kitchen. The whole house was a whopping 3500 sq ft if my memory serves me correct, which falls under the category of “houses too big to find your cat in."

Another home had an open-air-to-the-kitchen bathroom.

The third was dark and overpriced with cracked windows and open beer cans scattered about.

And then, plans changed. “Hey guys, there’s actually one more house we can see.” The last house we saw was a log cabin, nestled in the hillside by itself, with massive A-frame windows looking out onto the peaks beyond. Inside was a labyrinth of a life lived long and large. The cabin was built and loved by a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was 82, and as we walked toward the front door on that sunny winter morning, he exited with two beers in his pockets, headed to the mountain to ski. Jack was an attorney — in his life he’d been both criminal and defender — and from the stories, somewhat interchangeably. There were artifacts from running in the same scenes as Hunter S. Thompson and Willie Nelson; there were stuffed birds, bad books, sheet-covered couches, smoked spliffs, and piles and piles of mouse shit. Every inch of the house was lived in, and not just by people. You think millennials like plants? No. This man likes plants. The biggest monstera deliciosa I’ve ever seen, spanning some 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall. Draping cactuses, spider plants, massive aloes, and an ambitious hoya carnosa clawing its way to the top of the massive fireplace. But there were problems. I’m trying to be diplomatic saying the house was lived in. The wood by the door handles was dyed black from years of hand grease rubbing against it. The carpet in the upstairs was soiled almost everywhere with bat scat. Newspaper was stuffed between the massive logs to keep the wind out. There was cardboard taped over almost every window, blankets nailed over the others. Half the doors wouldn’t open. It was unnerving to touch the crusted light switches. It was early enough in the season of Covid-fear that touching anything felt like gambling. On our way back to our rental in the bigger neighboring town, we shared our awe and our no-ways, lamenting how long we’d have to wait for the little 1890s fixer upper. That night, I sent the video I took of the cabin to my parents. “Can you believe this?” I asked. And do you know what my dad said? “Great log construction.” After that, the cabin was all we could talk about. “Could you believe those plants?” “Did you see how big those logs were?” “I just googled Jack, look at this.” “Do you know what the insulating factor of logs is?” “How much did he say he was asking?” It came down to the plants. Amidst all the chaos in that house, the tender care of those decades-old plants sung the clearest. This wasn’t just a place Jack lived in, it was a place that wanted to be lived in. We made an offer the next day.

Jack had six months to clear out his 30 odd years of collecting, and the town had six months to speculate about the worrisome Californians moving to their high-altitude, high-risk town. The town itself is an old mining town. It rests in a high valley, surrounded by peaks over 13,000ft, and is over six hours from the nearest major airport. Five people died around this town in avalanches this past year. The dirt road into town is littered with avalanche fields, warning visitors to not stop when driving in. The other way out is a pass road, only drivable in the warm months, but you could skin out if it was dire. Most August days, the high is in the mid-60s. The valley is blanketed in wildflowers, and the aspens littering the mountainsides suggest a promising fall display. The town had a heyday, a low day, and now it’s a community of preppers, adventurers, appreciators, and “get all these idiots away from me”ers. We don’t know these people yet, but the ones we’ve met have the same like to live hard attitude we do. Heli-ski guides, ex-CIA agents, woodworkers, bakers, teachers, just a general can-do group of people. The kind of people that see a California license plate and peer with skepticism between the thin gap over their sunglasses and under their caps.

You might say I’m romanticizing the place, but the residents are worse. Like all good old-timers, they’re full of threats: “wait’ll you see the snow drifts,” “let’s see how you do outrunning an avalanche,” “good luck with the winds,” “the last Californians didn’t last a year.” God, what does that remind me of?

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”

With every taunt, my teeth ground more enamel, fingers rolling into a clench. And maybe Jack recognized this intensity, because on the day of closing, he hosted a gathering for us in the town's open space. He had us introduce ourselves to the skeptical locals, and I made my case in court, eyes narrowed and lips curled. “I’m the daughter of a smokejumper and wildlife biologist. I grew up watching the wind and the door. I’ve lived in big cities, small boats, and more than one cabin. I always take the stairs, I never use air-conditioning, and I’m a very good shot.” I’m just a girl, standing in front of a town, asking them to give her a fucking chance. Jack stepped forward to speak. “You know, I had my doubts about a couple Californians coming to look at my house. But these people? These are the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet.” And then I helped Jack set up his cot so he could spend his last night under the stars in the town that kept him young. Cooper ran circles with the other dogs. People brought homemade cocktails and bowls of dip and we felt welcomed. Even the mayor, a fellow writer, came and she struck up a conversation. “I hear you’ve got a little bit of a following on social media!” She teased. “I guess, nothing wild.” “Well I just wanted to let you know if you ever geotag this town, I’ll drag you out of it.” She grinned. This was a special place. And every visitor who couldn’t handle the realities of being here threatened the very wellbeing of the people who lived here. This town survives on a delicate balance. They source their own water, manage their own roads, and fervently protect the land and the people around them. Their stories about racing avalanches, snowmobiling in the dark of night to the doctor’s house, hunkering down in each other’s homes as the storms pass — these stories were bylaws. You can join when you’ve proven you’re ready to join. By their own projection, they are hardy and steadfast people, and when they see a Californian, they see something fleeting. Many years ago, I worked in the British Virgin Islands. The people born and raised there were called Belongers. At the customs office, the placards above the lines literally read, “If you belong, stand here” and “If you do not belong, stand here.” Whether or not we belong isn't up to the town council, and it's not up to these residents. It's up to years spent drifting my old Mustang in the snow on the way to school, up to Ben's months and months spent in the backcountry, up to my years of reading fire reports and assisting with evacuations, up to Ben's ability to read the landscape and the weather, up to my doggedness, his diligence, and our pathological love to do difficult things well. It’s up to us, to these old logs, and to this valley. Doesn't mean we'll belong, but it does mean we'll try. And for the record, the road is open in the winter. But do these sound like the kind of people who’d tell Google that? Next week, a tour of the house that we get to call ours — stuffed with newspaper, run by plants, and filled with mice. P.S. Here's where we get our mail.

Subscribe to the newsletter here. Follow on Instagram here.

#newsletters #amwriting #relocation #home renovation #cabin life #cabin living #colorado #log cabin

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adamsparirsh · 3 years ago

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11 questions

i was tagged by @leothil to do these questions and then ask 11 of my own.

i was also tagged by @rewritetheending to do questions, so i will do those TOO.

1. What social media are you most active on and why?

probably this one or twitter!

2. What's your most detested fanfiction trope?

hanahaki disease. i hate it more than anything.

3. If you have to bring something homemade to work/a party/a potluck, what are you bringing?

ah it depends! baked mac n cheese is a fan fave, but i’m also a good baker, so i might bring focaccia and cheese dip, or maybe some type of dessert.

4. If you'd make the choice now and easily could afford whatever school you wanted, would you start studying something, and if yes, what?

i’m in law school currently, but i would probably go to school for museum studies if i could!

5. What was your favourite childhood movie?

hm. i think maybe holes. i love that movie!

6. What's something that's clearly trash but you enjoy nonetheless? Can be a book, a movie, a game...

skjdshflkj i love the movie we’re the millers. it’s so STUPID but so funny

7. If you had the means (and the energy), would you go full interior designer!Eddie and change out your decor every season?

hell yeah i would!! my roommate and i already switch out our throw pillows every season HAHA

8. Do you have a favourite band/artist?

taylor swift for sure.

9. What kind of vacation is your dream vacation?

traveling throughout multiple countries, visiting museums/cultural heritage sites. exploring history, basically :’)

10. What's your favourite chocolate?

dark chocolate with sea salt caramel

11. Who's the most interesting person you've met?

my torts professor. seriously i think that man has lived eight thousand lives

now, @rewritetheending‘s questions! (putting the rest of this under the cut otherwise u would all hate me)

1. What is your favorite month and why?

great q! i think i really like october because i love halloween, it has the best weather in my part of the world, and it’s like peak fall. a perfect month imo. (second is july bc july is my birth month)

2. What is your least favorite month and why?

february is peak seasonal depression time for me, so probably that.

3. Have you ever sung karaoke? If not, do you want to? If so, what’s your go-to song?

LOVE karaoke. my go-tos are cowboy take me away by the chicks, and strawberry wine by deana carter. newer karaoke go-tos are good 4 u by olivia rodrigo and you belong with me by taylor swift.

4. What’s the best advice you’ve ever been given?

it’s okay to turn in something that’s not your best work. this is mostly in relation to school, but even at work this past semester (i was an intern) if i did the most i could in the time frame given, it was usually enough, because what i consider my best and what others consider “best” are two completely different concepts.

5. If you could take a one-week vacation right now (money/responsibilities not an issue), where would you go and what would you do?

i’d grab my 3 best friends and go to best friend #2′s dad’s apartment in the caymans and just hide out with them for a little bit. i miss them so much lol.

6. What’s the first movie you remember making you cry?

remember? bridge to terabithia. but i have it on good authority that tarzan made me cry so hard that my parents had to leave the theater with me LOL

7. What’s the worst job you’ve ever had? The best?

worst job: daycare assistant teacher. i loved the kids with my entire heart and i would do anything for them in a heartbeat, but being a teacher burnt me out so bad that i quit within less than 6 months. it was only ever meant to be temporary anyway, but i couldn’t even make it the full year. best job: working at the children’s museum was literally the best job i’ve had so far. i’ve loved working at various law firms but the children’s museum was such a fun time.

8. What was your favorite board game to play as a kid?

MONOPOLY and i stand by this

9. If you could be best friends with any fictional character, who would it be?

i want to be best friends with evan buckley so bad i just love him

10. What is a really random talent you have?

uhhh i can always be successful in my recipes! even if /i/ think i’ve fucked something up, it always tastes good somehow.

11. If you could have an hour-long conversation with any historical figure, who would it be?

fred hampton.

my questions (??) are so boring SORRY

1. societal expectations be damned, what would you do to your hair if you could? 2. what is your favorite tv show and why? 3. is there a character (in any book, movie, show, play, etc) that you relate to? why do you relate to them? 4. what is a phrase that you say all the time, and has anyone picked it up from you? 5. what was your favorite age to be and why? 6. who is someone you would like to speak to, dead or alive? what would you ask them? 7. what’s your favorite season and why? 8. how would you describe yourself in three words? how would your friends describe you in three words? 9. do you have a favorite flower? what is it? 10. what is your favorite type of article of clothing to wear? (i.e. sweaters, jeans, t-shirts, soft socks, etc) 11. do you have a favorite card game? what is it?

blskjdfl i’m tagging @queerpanikkar @evcndiaz @not-a-fever-dream @hattalove @lambourngb @evanbucxley and literally you do not have to do this but if you’d like, go for it <3

#grace speaks #tag games #i had to put the other stuff under the cut or i'd be crucified for putting such a long post on your dash SRY

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theanimesideblog · 4 years ago

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Could I request Francis Forever by Mitski with any hero of your choice + civilian s/o? 👉👈

Ms. Joke x Civilian!GN!Reader: Francis Forever Prompt Playlist Event A/N: ofc!!! y’all knew i had to go with my WIFE. also this is before she’s a teacher. also also: sorry these are taking longer than expected. i went a little overboard on some of them

You were Ms. Joke’s assistant, and an amazing one at that. You always wanted to be in the hero world, but never had the stomach for fighting. Working from the sidelines was more preferable for you. Truth be told, you could work at any hero agency you wanted. Hell, you could work for any of the top heroes if you wanted; any of them would be happy to have you. You choose to stay with Joke, though. You had met most of the top heroes at one point or another, and you didn’t care for most of them. None of them could come close to Joke.

[[MORE]]

You smiled thinking of her, before your heart constricted.

Today was your day off, which is just what you needed after Joke decided to gush all about Aizawa and his students to you. Over the years of working for her, you developed a huge crush on the Pro. Hearing her talk about someone else that way hurt, but you couldn’t say anything. It would be out of line.

You turned and tossed in your bed last night thinking of her words. By the time you knew it, the sun had risen and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. You decided going on a walk might help you get sleepy or clear your mind. You would take either at this point.

You had wandered around the town, ending up on a tree-lined street. The road was empty. You found yourself thankful to be alone. The trees overhead cast the road in a beautiful light, making the whole place seem magical. You smiled and found yourself distracted.

You looked up at the gaps of sunlight, and immediately your heart clenched. The light was as bright as Joke’s smile. God, you had it bad if sunlight reminded you of her. You shook your head and hurried down the street.

~*~

“(Y/N)! You’re here!” Joke said as you entered the agency. You smiled at her.

“Always at 9. What’s up?” You asked, walking over to your desk.

“I got offered a job at Ketsubutsu Academy High School.” She said. You gasped, faking happiness. You didn’t want her to leave.

“That’s great! Are you going to take the job?” You asked, sitting down. She sat on the edge of your desk.

“I think so. I haven’t made any decisions though.” She said. “But don’t worry. I’ve already come up with a few job opportunities for you after I leave!”

“I’m your assistant, Emi. Not the other way around.” You said. She snorted and handed you a file.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but you’re my hero for handling everything while you worked here. I don’t know what I would do without you! Which is why I’m really going to miss you,” She said. You looked up at her and sadly smiled.

“I’m going to miss you too.” You said.

“Hey, no reason to be sad! I’m always a phone call away! If our schedules line up, we can meet on the weekends or during breaks!! You can’t get rid of me that easily!” Joke said. You laughed.

“I wouldn’t dream of getting rid of you,” You said, looking down at the file. “What made you decide to become a teacher?”

“Aizawa actually-” You gripped the file tighter- “talked me into it. All he does is talk about his students. Plus, I think it’s time I take a small break from the hero scene and work on something smaller. Make some room for the new guys, ya know?” She said. You nodded as you opened the file.

Skimming through the jobs, you noticed quite a few higher-level jobs, as well as some assistant positions for high-ranking heroes. What caught your eye was the job at Ketsubutsu, despite you being under-qualified for the position.

“What’s this one on here for?” You asked, point to the job. She smiled nervously and looked out the window.

“I pulled some strings to see if you could get a job there. Truth be told, I don’t want to leave you.” She said. You felt a slight blush rush to your cheeks. “I also found that Hawks was looking for an assistant. That’s a great position! I’m sure you’ll go far under him. But take your time and look. No pressure.”

“I don’t need to look. If you’re going to Ketsubutsu, I’m going too.” You said. Joke’s eyes widened.

“Really! Oh gosh- wait, I don’t even know if I’m going yet. Don’t commit to anything, okay? I’ll let you know if I take the job.” She said. You chuckled at her.

“I don’t want to ever lea-” The phone rang, cutting you off. You smiled sheepishly at her before answering it.

“Ms. Joke’s office. How can I help you?” You said.

“It’s Easerhead. Can you put Joke on the phone?” He said. You frowned. How rude of him to not even tell you what he needed. Still, you knew Joke didn’t need a reason to pick up the phone if he was on the end.

“Of course. Please hold.” You said, before pressing the ‘hold’ button.

“It’s Easerhead.” You said. Joke’s eyes lit up.

“Oh! Let’s pick this up, okay?” Joke said as she went into her office. You nodded, redirecting the call to her phone.

You buried your face in your hands and groaned.

~*~

It wasn’t often that you got to walk around with Joke in civilian clothing. She asked you to come with her as a friend to pick out a dress for the charity event she and other heroes had to attend. She often complained that she had no style and begged for your guidance. Of course, you would have given it to her, regardless.

The only issue was that she kept talking about Aizawa. He was also to attend the event, and the two of them had even been paired up to be speakers. Joke was so nervous of messing up, especially next to him. She never said it, but you could tell she was using jokes to cover up her true feelings- again. You endured it for her sake.

“How many more stores, (Y/N)?” She asked, leaning on you. You smiled at her.

“Last one. I’m sure we’ll find a dress here,” You said, amused at her attitude. She could go on a three-day stakeout and still crack jokes, but an hour of shopping took her out.

“I hope so.” She said as the two of you walked into the shop.

It only took Joke five minutes to find a dress she absolutely adored. You were almost run over when she came bounding towards you with it.

“(Y/N)!! Look at this dress!!” She said, holding it up against her body.

It was sleek and black, with a few groups of sparkles here and there. The dress had a long slit on one side and had no sleeves. You blushed a little when you thought of her muscles in that dress. She was your employer! How could you think like that?

You shook your head and smiled at her, wondering where she got this energy from. “Let’s go try it on.” You said.

She ran ahead and was already in the changing room by the time you got there. You sat down on a chair and waited for her to finish. You were thankful to sit down after walking around for so long. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to rest for long until Joke peaked her head out of the changing room.

“Could you zip me up, please?” She asked. You nodded before standing up and walking over to her. She turned around and moved her hair back. You zipped her dress up and stepped back.

“Give me a spin.” You said. Joke turned around and smiled at you. Your eyes widened as the dress’s sparkles seemed to dance, even in the lackluster store lighting.

“You’re gorgeous,” You said, breathless. Joke smiled.

“Thank you.” She said, pushing a piece of hair back. “I know it’s a bit different from what I usually wear, but I had to match Aizawa since we’ll be paired up.” Your heart dropped. “Can you take a picture for me?”

You nodded, watching as she went into the dressing room to grab her phone. You took it from her, your hands shaking slightly. You took a deep breath to steady your hands, but Joke noticed.

“Hey, are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah. I’m just... tired. It’s been a long day.” You said. Joke frowned.

“(Y/N)-“

“I swear, I’m okay.” You said.

“I’ll pay for the dress. Why don’t you head home?” She said.

“But we need to get you accessories.” You said. She shook her head, taking her phone from you.

“We have time. You need to rest, okay?” She said.

“You sure?”

“Of course. Get some rest.” She said. “Don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself first for once.”

~*~

You had off the next day, but you realized you had forgotten some paperwork you meant to take home for the weekend. So, despite Joke always telling you not to come into work on your off days, you went into the agency.

You walked into the office, only to see Joke and Easerhead talking. You stopped like a deer in headlights. You fully intended to turn away before either saw you, but Joke caught your eye.

“(Y/N)! What are you doing here? You should rest!” She said. Easerhead turned to look at you. Despite disliking the guy for catching Joke’s eye, up close he looked kind of scary.

“I forgot some paperwork. I’ll be quick.” You said, avoiding their eyes. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“Don’t be. I’d rather not be alone with Joke.” Aizawa said. You looked up in shock.

“What? She’s one of my favorite people to be around.” You said. Joke smiled brightly at you.

“Good for you. You can take her.” Aizawa said.

“Awww, c’mon! We know you’re just flustered since you’re planning on marrying me!” Joke said. Aizawa groaned. How could she like someone that didn’t want to be around her?!

“No thanks. I’d rather stay single forever.” Aizawa said. “Anyway, I got what I came for. I’m leaving.”

“Bye, Easerhead! Love you!” Joke called out as he left the office. You also choked on your own spit when she said that. You quickly composed yourself and went towards your desk. You couldn’t keep watching Joke fall head over heels for someone you could never compete with. It was getting too painful. Even now, you wanted to scream.

“(Y/N)!! Wait! How are you feeling?” Joke asked.

“Fine.” You said, reaching for the files you needed. Joke placed her hand on yours. You looked up to see her serious face. Your breath caught in your throat. The only time you ever saw her frown was after a serious villain attack.

“What’s really been bothering you?” She asked.

“Nothing.” You said, moving your hand away. How could she act so foolishly? Didn’t she notice how you practically fell over yourself when you were around her?

“(Y/N). Please tell me. I care about you.” She said. You balled your fists.

“If you really cared about me, then you wouldn’t have flirted with Aizawa right in front of me!” You said louder than you meant. You covered your mouth. It wasn’t her fault she liked Aizawa.

“I’m sorry. That was out of line.” You said, walking away.

“Wait! What do you mean?” Joke said. You let out a dry laugh and turned to face her.

“You’re kidding me. You really don’t know?” You asked. She shook her head. You covered your face and let out a whimper.

“God, Emi! I’m upset that I’m not the best for you.” You said.

“What do you mean? You’re the best assistant in the world! I think every Pro knows that!” She said.

“I don’t need the world to see that I’ve been the best I can be! God, when I’m with you, I just- I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to put my hands, I don’t... I don’t think I can do this anymore!” You said.

“(Y/N), please-“

“I can’t. I don’t think I can stand to be where you don’t see me! I’m in love with you, Emi! I have for years! You’ve never noticed! You think other assistants go help their pros shop as friends or help them move on the weekends or watch movies together? I do it because I love you!” You said, moving your hands away from your eyes.

Emi stared at you, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“I just thought we were friends.” She said. You wanted to scream at her, but you knew it wasn’t right.

“If that’s what you want, then that’s fine. I understand.” You said before leaving.

~*~

You ended up walking around after storming out. Going home seemed like a waste since you knew you would just end up crying. That wall of emotions wasn’t something you were ready to face.

You had liked Emi for so long, and you never imagined your confession going that way. It was awful. You felt so embarrassed and hurt. A part of you regretted being so harsh with her. You knew Emi often struggled to understand how people felt towards her, and yet you still yelled at her. You felt like a real, well, joke.

You kicked a rock, watching as it flew maybe a centimeter before hitting the ground. Somehow, it felt satisfying. You kicked it again, following it. Kicking the rock required no mental effort, but it made you focus on the rock instead of your emotions. After a few minutes of kicking the rock, you realized just how far you were from home.

The original plan was just to circle the vicinity of your home so you wouldn’t have to walk so far back to your home. You frowned, realizing you should start walking back towards your home. That’s when a raindrop fell onto your nose. You looked up to see dark clouds circling the area. Great! You were so distracted by Emi that you had forgotten to watch the forecast or even look up at the sky.

Another raindrop fell, and then another, and then another. Before you knew it, the rain had finally begun to pour. You whined before running back to your home, eager to get out of the rain. This was just the cherry on top of the mud pie that was your life.

By the time you got back to your block, you were drenched and tried. Thankfully, the sidewalk to your home was covered with trees that provided you some relief from the rain. You wondered if these trees could protect you from your emotions as easily.

You turned the corner into your house, only to see Emi knocking at your door. She turned to see you, gasping.

“(Y/N)! Quick, get under my umbrella! You’re soaking!” She said, running to shield you. You wanted to push her away, but you felt too cold to shun her body heat. You huffed and looked away.

“Thanks.” You mumbled.

“Of course. Let’s get you inside.” She said, leading you towards your front door. “I’ll get towels to dry you off, alright?” You nodded as you unlocked and opened your front door.

Emi shook out her umbrella and then followed you inside. She took off her shoes as quickly as possible before running to your bathroom. She returned with arms full of towels.

“Thanks.” You mumbled as you dried yourself off.

“Of course. I’m sorry to come to your house on such short notice, but I wanted to apologize to you.” She said. You hid your face with the towel to hide the blush of embarrassment.

“You don’t have to apologize for not liking me,” You said, moving the towel so you could see her.

“Well, the thing is, I do like you. I was surprised you felt the same way, and I didn’t know how to react when I realized you had to endure so much of me fake flirting with Easerhead. I’m sorry, (Y/N). If it’s okay, I’d like to take you on a date,” Emi said.

“Wait, seriously? I thought you liked Easerhead!” You said. She chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck.

“It’s a joke. I don’t like him at all, and he clearly doesn’t like me. I’m just trying to get him to laugh. I’m sorry that feels so silly now,” She said. You smiled and reached out to take her hand.

“It’s fine. Really. Maybe you can make it up by flirting with me more often.” You said. Emi smiled and squeezed your hand.

“Oh, definitely. We have to make up for lost time. So about that date?” She said.

“I’d love to go on a date with you.” You said.

#sfw #sfw oneshot #mha x reader #mha x you #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha x you #ms joke x you #ms joke x reader #Fukukado Emi x reader #Fukukado Emi x you #request #anon #gender neutral!reader #civilian!reader #no tw

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namjoonfluff · 4 years ago

Text

The Florist

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

summary: you own a flower shop in London and get to meet lots of interesting customers but none as interesting as Jungkook.

genre: this is pretty fluffy at the moment - tempted to make it a series if people like it and we might get smut or angst!

word count: 1,900 notes: i haven’t edit yet so if things don’t make sense, feel free to come for me in my asks

When you opened up Buds & Blooms last spring, it was partly because of your love of flowers but also your love of people too. You see, you were surrounded by the same beautiful blossoms every day. However, the individuals who entered the shop were exactly that - individuals. Each one completely unique from the others; with different lives, different problems and different reasons for buying flowers.

You had Mrs Norris who popped in every Monday to check out the latest bouquets. Her visits were never about purchasing a bunch but indeed, she was lonely. You would often see her leaving her terraced house, waving goodbye to her dog and shuffling across the street to the shop. Your eyes followed her every move; head bowed to the ground as she manoeuvred the cobbled street. The bell would ring to signal her entrance and you acted as if you hadn’t been expecting her arrival for five minutes now. “Hello, dear,” She would whisper softly across the rows and rows of roses and camellias.

You glanced up from your ribbons and smiled. She didn’t like to start a conversation straight away. Instead, Mrs Norris took a very slow lap around the store before settling upon a bouquet of sunflowers. Her fingers ran across the sunshine petals as she fell into a deep thought.

“Patrick used to buy me these,” Mrs Norris said to herself, looking sadly at the bright bouquet which sat waiting for her. You would never tell her this but you placed them there purposely. Before Mrs Norris’ husband passed away, he paid you to create her a bouquet every week. Even beyond the grave, he was finding a way to keep their love strong. It was enough to make you believe in soulmates!

Soon after, Mr James rushed into the store like usual. No matter what day of the week, it was always just before lunchtime when he threw the door open in a hurry. As his face flushed pink and chest heaved, he briskly walked to find the biggest bouquet he could possibly find. Lucky for him, you always had one prepared for his visits. “What is it this time?” You grinned from behind the counter.

“Forgot-” He said breathlessly. “Forgot the pickles and now I’m getting a bollocking!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the panic on his face. Anytime Mr James and his wife had a slight disagreement, he would rush out to buy her flowers. It was because of him that the flower shop stayed afloat! He must have purchased about fifty bouquets since his wife got pregnant. He was seriously the best husband though.

Plenty more customers popped their heads into the store throughout the day. There was Miss Dean - a teacher from the local school who always needed a fresh arrangement for her classroom. You were also visited by Danny Jones, your next door, shop neighbour. He was always dropping by to offer you some of his luxury coffee. It was disgusting though; the bitter type of coffee that just sat in the back of your throat the whole day! With his cup of hell, he also brought an uncomfortable attempt at flirting. “So, do you ever leave this place?” Danny said, leaning up against the counter. Your eyes twitched as you watched him squash the head of a pink rose from one of your wedding displays. It was a shame you had to be polite in front of customers because you could have slapped him so hard in that moment.

“Well, you know what it’s like running a small business,” You shrugged. “I just wanna keep this place afloat!” He sipped his sludge while raking his eyes up and down your body. It would maybe make sense if you were wearing some kind of body-con, booby dress with heels. Yet, here you were in your favourite pair of mom-jeans and a baggy jumper. “That’s why I have my father involved,” Danny smirks from beyond the cup. “He pays the bills, I just make sure nothing goes wrong!”

You subtly roll your eyes from behind the vase you were plucking flowers from. How could someone get through life like this? You wondered. But you didn’t really have to think for long. He was lucky enough to have his daddy’s investment. Need more beans imported from Dubai? Get Father on the phone! Someone broke the coffee machine again? Well, looks like Daddy’s going to need the call. You were jealous really! After all, you had saved up the money to buy the shop, scrimped and scraped so you could afford the latest till. You had even dipped into your life savings to buy a new sign for the shop. That’s how much you cared about this place! It frustrated you to see someone have it so easy.

“Anyway, do you fancy getting a drink with me?” Danny asked.

“Not if it’s any of that coffee,” You whispered.

“Huh?” He looked up from the flower he had de-petalled just a second ago. You were this close from kicking him out the store!

“I’m okay,” You said shyly. How are you supposed to reject someone nicely? Someone who always gets their own way?

“Are you sure?” Danny’s annoying voice peaked again. “Do you really want to be single and selling flowers all your life?” Actually, yes. That sounded like an absolute dream plan right now! No annoying men trying to make you drink their horrible coffee. Maybe you could have a dog like Mrs Norris. Yes, a dog sounded like a great idea - plus, they are much quieter than men anyway!

“Honestly,” He huffed, bringing you out of the daydream where you’re walking your adorable dachshund around Hyde Park. Fucking idiot! How dare he interrupt you as you and Herbert settle on a park bench for a picnic. “You women confuse me beyond belief,” “You talk about marriage and babies but when a decent guy comes along, you reject him!”

Afraid he was going to start lecturing you on the benefits of marrying into his family, you made sure to place a pot down on the counter - loudly! That should wake him from his own daydream which probably involved an image of you being his trophy wife, feeding him his exuberant coffee beans. “Sorry, Danny,” You said, looking up at the clock. “I’m closing now!”

“No worries! Want me to do the tills for you?” He pointed at your cash register. “You want to make sure you’ve counted all your takings correctly!”

How could someone be so unbearable to be around!

“No,” You said firmly - or as firm as you could make it sound. “I’m okay!”

Despite his resistance, Danny finally left the shop five minutes before closing, leaving behind his stupid cardboard cup. In frustration, you lobbed it at the wall, hitting the space just below the chalkboard which advertises your prices. That was going to leave a mark but you would deal with it tomorrow. The only thing you need right now is to stick your head in a bunch of peonies! Thankfully, you were the owner of a flower shop and so a bouquet of peonies wasn't far away.

Sticking your head into the fresh flowers, you inhale their sweet, earthy scent. They act as a reset button, helping you to remember exactly why you love this job. It was your philosophy that flowers could fix anything. Whether it was a petty argument or full-on heartbreak, buying someone flowers was like putting a metaphorical bandaid on their heart. It wouldn’t fix them, of course! However, it helped the healing process feel a little easier. It was just nice to know someone cared enough to send you flowers. It takes the sting out of any sour experiences. It helps to forget just a little! And as a florist, you were so happy to be a part of making people’s lives better. Even if the shop didn’t make you any money, you would still get up every day at five o’clock and create bouquets and arrangements. This was your biggest passion after all!

“Hello?” A voice enters your ear from across the quiet shop. Shit!

You quickly whip your head around to see a man standing in your door, half smirking and half wondering ‘what the fuck is this girl doing motorboating some flowers!’ Well, at least, you think that must be what’s going through his head. How often do you walk into a shop to see someone with their face buried in flowers. “Sorry, I was just-” You start to explain but you wonder how you’re supposed to explain this to a stranger. Apologies, I just stuck my head in some flowers because this annoying guy keeps hitting on me. It’s not exactly normal person behaviour - the type a complete stranger would understand. “It’s okay,” The man spoke in a soft and calming voice. “I am looking for flowers.” “Well, you have come to the right place,” You gestured to all the flowers around you, which you had yet to stick your face in. “I promise I don’t do that with all the flowers!”

The stranger just laughed and began walking around the shop, admiring all of the flowers you had available at the moment. Completely embarrassed by what just happened, you rushed to the backroom to compose yourself. Oh god, what is my life! Did I really just embarrass myself like in front of some random guy? What must he be thinking right now! Maybe he’s already run out of the store and called the police. Amidst your thoughts, you hear a voice call out saying: “Excuse me!” With the heat from your cheeks slowly dissipating and breath starting to still, you walked back to the front of the shop with confidence. You see the man standing by the bucket of Ranunculus stems, staring down at them intently.

“How can I help?” You smiled, catching the man’s vibrant smile back at you. Now that you’re in touching distance of the stranger, you realise quite how handsome he was. His warm skin was actually glowing - like he was sweating but it was a beautiful kind of sheen that wasn’t gross at all. As if you had made a complete fool of yourself in front of someone as beautiful as him. What an idiot!

“Can you tell me about these?” He said softly and you nodded.

“These flowers are called…” As you explained the history of the flower and its meaning, his deep-brown eyes watched you intently. It was almost hard to keep eye contact with him because every time you looked in his direction, his eyes were staring right at you; full of wonder and intrigue. No one had ever looked at you like that. He even smiled and laughed at your little jokes, which definitely no one ever did! Nobody cared about flowers as much as you do to even understand your jokes. “So, these are perfect in bouquet, wreaths and things like table settings,” You finished with a smile as always. However, it didn’t feel forced like it did with other customers.

“Could I get them in a bouquet to collect tomorrow, please?” The man said quietly. “A mixture of colours, please?”

You nodded. “Of course, can I take a name for my book?”

“It’s Jungkook!” The man smiled as he told you his name. To be honest, you didn’t need to know his name. How could you forget his handsome face after all! You just wanted to know more about him; it was an interesting name - one you definitely would never forget.

#jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook au #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #btsfanfic #bts smut #jungkookfic #bts #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #theflorist

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writing-frenzy · 4 years ago

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Airplane Crossing Over Plots~

Like it says on the tin, these were ideas I had for crossovers involving our fav writer~ (EDIT: Thank you @guiltycorp for inspiring this a bit XD)

Now, I’ve mentioned before, with Airplane choosing the go home option, he ends up still with a golden core in all this mess but he needs to cultivate his body really carefully because of it. (come on, he put in all the time and effort to be an immortal master, he should be able to still have his bad ass skills; not to mention with it being a soul thing, because a golden core is just as spiritual as it is physical, so he will definitely still have it.)

So, sealing his core and having his Nascent Soul outside his body to relieve some of the pressure on it, (having it look like a little chibi SQH that usually hangs out in hoodie pockets or hiding in Airplane’s hair with an aura of disguise around it), Airplane has to go and actually work out, which isn’t too much of a hardship for him at least, seeing as he’s had years to get into a routine and survival instincts kicking in to help him out there.

And, he may have actually started taking school seriously again, actually applying himself, maybe even getting an online accounting job to help supply his income. When he’s steady with that, he finishes PIDW the way he had been leading up to, the ending that makes the most sense and satisfices the writer the most (and if it gives him some closure, he isn’t saying anything about that.) Now that he is finally free from PIDW, and has college and work to worry about, he writes whenever he damn well pleases, and whatever he wants to fuck what anyone says.

(He might or might not write some absolutely filthy porn whenever the mood hits him, and cackles how his fans both greedily read it and cry because his newer works are so tragic, even if they have happy endings at times. Yes, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky is a porn writer, but first and foremost is he an angst writer more~ His fan’s tears and cries just make him stronger kind of writer~)

(I just honestly want Airplane to write what he wants to now, that is one of the biggest motives behind all this honestly)

So, we have the set up :D let’s get to what we can cross over here~

First Up: ~Cutivation Group Chat~

Come on, how can one resist this? Plopping good old Airplane into this wild ride is one of the few things that makes me so happy in life. The thought of it makes me grin, especially since it can go two ways in my opinion~

First way: Airplane replaces Song Shuhang; like, just seeing Airplane, who was an Immortal Master and Teacher in those situations would be so funny, yet intriguing as well to see how he handles it, because you know he’ll be able to, just in ways no one ever expects. (Besides, that werid luck of Shuhang’s would be perfect for him, tho he won’t seek death like the other would~ :D Airplane still has a lovely sense of self-preservation~)

Second way: Airplane is one of Song Shuhang’s roommates. (for this, I’m going to say their Dorm was big enough for five peeps, because I want Airplane to have more friends damn-it.) Just... the imagery of the two neutral disasters getting into so much mayhem and hijinxs together, giving Song Shuhang not only a friend/brother in arms he can always depend and rely on, but also a steady source for learning and cultivation as well :D

(Also, Airplane and Gou Moumou being writer friends, the two of them able to bounce ideas on to each other (oh god, now you have inspired me, how dare you make me write this./hahahaha, you know you want too/ bitch turnabout is fair play/ ah fuck.) also: just the image of Airplane meeting Senior White and being completely unaffected because not only is his survival instincts going in overdrive, but also:

Airplane: ? He’s not my type.

Everyone: *jaws dropped*

:D Anyways~

Second Idea: Card Room (Rebirth)

Now First, for those who don’t know Card Room (Rebirth), this is an action/survival/mystery thriller BL Unlimited Flow type of novel; it follows one Xiao Lou, a medical professor who specializes with examining the dead, and his journeys through multiple rooms after having died in reality, the difficulty of each of these rooms measured with Playing Cards from 2 to K and with different types of rooms being sorted by their suits of Hearts (Mystery), Diamonds (Puzzle), Spade (Survival), Club (Luck/Money). The Goal of the story is to beat all the rooms and return back to the world of the living once more. To aid in this, people can get special cards to help them fight/ take care of their health/ or even just daily life essentials to be able to actually get through places.

So... this means after getting all used to living once more and getting into his grove in the modern world... Airplane unfortunately kicks the bucket, yet again! Thing is, this time it happened after he played a card game with some of his roommates, I’m going to say poker, and they were betting who would do what chores. Aiplane managed to make out pretty well, and was pleased with it, so was very much bummed when he ended up dying yet again. He goes through the room, some by the skin of his teeth, but with his cultivation abilities still usable (can’t stop something on a soul level here) he gets by okay. Though, all his cards either deal with writing, supplies, and the rare cultivation one at times.

He gets by at least.

Now, because this series gives me some emotions, here is one thing I will say: Airplane and Liu Ying end up partnering up and break through together, because damn it, Liu Qiao and her sis deserve some damn happiness ;-; Maybe Airplane and Liu Ying meet by chance, Airplane impressed by the young woman’s intelligence and Liu Ying can in turn be grateful for Airplane’s resourcefulness. Maybe even include the original girl that Liu Ying teamed up with, So we have three people already in your team to survive! (because surviving the rooms 2-4 is already damn amazing considering how hellish they get :D )

This is a fun crossover for me to imagine honestly, because it would be perfect to showcase Airplane’s skills in logic, reasoning, and pure survival our boy is known for; let that resourceful and logistic riddled mind out to play as he fights to get the fuck out of this world, even if The City of the Moon is beautiful and all.

:D So, those were the ideas I would like to really see, but here is some more for anyone curious:

Honorable Mentions: These are ones I would love to see Airplane accidently going into, and just going yikes, or nope! or even ‘Really?’

Lord of End of World:

... This story, it concerns me greatly; I like the worldbuilding, even has a few really cool girls in it, and I find the protagonist rather curious (to an extent, blackened Gary Stu that he is...) but does it make me cringe at times with the underage theme to it; it’s part of their cultivation and all, but god damn does the way this story push some of it really sqink me out, I had to drop it because it made me so uncomfortable, so just a heads up there. this is one of those stories that makes me want to write spite fiction, but also make me cringe at the thought of remembering it at times.

Anyways, so, how it boils down to it is that this poor guy, known as the Young Master of the Unground Palace, was abused in all the ways one can practically be abused, just so their Master can get stronger themselves by forming the perfect cauldron to absorb, but who manages to kill their master only to die as well. He ends up transmigrating into Gong Lixin, a 16 year old wealthy young master about a year (I believe) before the apocalypse happens... (Like I said, I have so many damn issues with this damn story, I cry.)

Just, on one hand, imagining Airplane in this world also makes me laugh (and maybe hope), because maybe here Gong Lixin could actually learn a cultivation style thats not only suited to him, but also doesn’t need him to dual cultivate all the time and rely on cauldrons (maybe get some needed therapy as well, Airplane knows some peeps; I can dream~), he can have a stable, reliable teacher here who will have no lust or attraction to him, Airplane helping the kid out at first because they look like they’re recovered from a really bad Qi-Devitation and the teacher in him can’t leave that alone. Airplane can also relate with the youth about transmigrating, maybe even telling him about his own time with that. (And Airplane can use his own cultivation to smack around any bitch looking sideways at his student, because fuck that shit, he is only seventeen and traumatized.) Just, turning this story into a cute mentor and discipleship and emotional healing would make me so happy.

Monster Inn Rectification Report

So, this is another Transmigration story~ MC transmigrates as a poor canon fodder son, who would have ended up in a vegetable state after being neglected in favor of the super amazing awesome adopted son. He then goes on to accidently inheriting a supernatural end for Monsters~

Like, this idea makes me grin evilly; though things will change up a bit, since both of Airplane’s parents have already split up and have their own families? Just, the Former An Ding Peak Lord running an Inn? :D Building it from ground up from bascially nothing? :D Oh, man, this man has run worse things, and even a Demon Kingdom, he got you~

Supernatural Movie Actor App

Its a BL about a guy with a split personality who does realistic (as in for real) horror movies through an app, to get his wish to come true.

This actually goes really good with my idea of Airplane wanting to be an actor and all, only to have his dreams crushed :D He doesn’t at first realize what he is getting into when he gets the app, thinking it might be a chance for him to still be able to do his dream, only, surprise, surprise, he ends up entering a real life Horror movie environment~ I’m really curious about what he would dream about~

I Have Medicine

:D Airplane and Gu Zuo interactions make me smile~ these two would be so fun, seeing them bounce off each other would be a treat.

So What if You’re Reborn

.... hahahahahaha, oh, the chaos that could be unleashed in this timeline would be glorious~

Running Away From the Hero

#SVSSS #Scum Villain Self Saving System #Scum Villain Self-Saving System #Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky #Shang Qinghua #Cultivation Group Chat #Card Room (Rebirth)

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backtobackbakubabe · 5 years ago

Text

Stuck in the Middle with You (Part 3)

Bakugo X Reader

Words : 2280

*****************************************************************************************************

How? How has it already been five days? The two of you had fallen into a routine that was borderline domestic. Bakugo was an early riser so every morning you could expect to wake up to a fresh pot of coffee and some kind of breakfast. Pancakes were usually his go to. It could have been because you had a shit ton of pancake batter... or maybe he had picked up on the fact you really liked pancakes?

After breakfast he would do some kind of workout, sometimes using your backyard to do sprints or using your lawn furniture as weights. You had to admit he was kind of... hot when he got all sweaty. You’d never let him know that though. He’d let it go straight to his head and you'd never hear the end of it, So instead of watching him workout like you wanted to , you would usually curl up on the sofa with your iPad and do todays crossword puzzle.

Then next on the list was you binge watching criminal minds with him and you both would bet on who the killer was. You always won, which Bakugo always pretended to be mad about. He would call you a cheater because this was what you did for a living. You’d both bicker and complain but without fail you'd always end up leaning on him and he would always pull you closer. It was nice.

Then when dinner rolled around he would do his best to teach you how to cook. That was the deal after all. He would growl under his breath every time you did something wrong but he’d never actually scold you. Instead he would patiently help you fix it. This was a whole different side to him you had never seen. To be fair you had really only spent time with him in school, and in group settings. Maybe this was normal one on one behavior for him... you’d have to ask Kiri.

Tonight he was teaching you how to make home made sushi. He insisted it wasnt as hard as it looked but you didnt believe him. He said that about everything he had taught you so far, and so far it was all really hard.

Cooking with Bakugo was... rather difficult. He was a great teacher and actually way more patient then you would have thought, it was just... his proximity. He was always right next to you or leaning on you, sometimes he’d take your hand and try and to guide you through the motions. As comforting as you found his presence, your brain would just shut down when he was that close to you. You’d find yourself lost in your thoughts.

Today was no different. Right now he is right next to you showing you how to roll the rice paper and you started your usual spiral. Is he mad he’s stuck here? Does he like teaching you to cook? Wow he smells nice. Why does he sleep on your floor every night? Is it comfortable? Does his back hurt? Should you invite him to sleep in your bed? Would he think thats weird? Should you tell him to go back to the couch? Would that hurt his feeling? Wow his body heat feels great. Wait... did he stop talking?

“OI! Earth to smalls! I swear you’re always so hyper focused when watching tv but it when it comes to cooking its like you check out completely! You’re the one who asked me to teach you how to cook.”

You blushed and gave him a quick shrug, “You're right I’m sorry. I am trying though. It’s just sometimes I get stuck in my own head.”

Bakugo softened a bit as he turned to lean on the counter and look at you, “Yeah I know. Usually I dont have a problem with it but the kitchen isn't exactly the best place for you to go all space cadet. It’s full of things that can and will cut you, burn you, and squish you....”

A vision of a first aid kit popped into your head and your lip quirked in a soft smile. You didn't mean to take peaks into Bakugo’s head but sometimes it was like his thoughts were screaming at you. Begging for you to see. It was almost like he wanted you to know that he would take care of you if you got hurt. “I’m a big girl Bakugo. If i get hurt it won't be any ones fault but mine. But I will try to focus a bit more, I promise.”

You put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze, “So what’s next?”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at you, indicating he didnt think the conversation was over. He picked up the finished plates of sushi and headed towards the kitchen table? “Now we eat and you tell me what you were thinking about.”

You blushed as you took your normal seat across from him. “Do we have to?”

Bakugo stopped mid bite, “Uh... yeah. Eating is kind of necessary to survival y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Bakugo smirked, “Well maybe I’d know you better if you actually talked to me. You were the one bitching the other day that you didnt know anything about me... come on... what had you stuck in the cramped little brain of yours a few minutes ago?”

You huffed as you threw your hands up in frustration, “Same thing as always! You! Its always you. Not in like a weird way or anything... I swear... It’s just... I dont know!”

You saw the faintest of blushes grace his cheeks before he composed himself, “What about me?”

You took a sip of your water as you searched for the right words. “I just... I tend to over think every single aspect of my life. And right now... you’re basically the only thing in my life. I keep wondering if you’re happy here or if you’re miserable being stuck here with me. I wonder if you’re back hurts from sleeping on the floor and if I should offer to let you sleep in the bed. Then I wonder if that’s creepy. It starts as something so innocent and then it just spirals until I fall down the rabbit hole... completely lost in my own head.”

Bakugo nodded as he took another bite of his sushi, “Sounds exhausting... Why not just ask me instead, and save yourself the trouble?”

You eyes widened, “What do you mean?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, “I mean idiot.. instead of getting tangled up in wondering about me and my feeling just fucking ask... No. I am not miserable, I actually find your company to be pleasant. No my back doesn't hurt from sleeping on your floor but I can't say the same for my shoulder. No it wouldn't be creepy to ask if I wanted to sleep in your bed... honestly I think that's very sweet of you and as long as you were comfortable I may even take you up on it... There yeah see... problem solved.... anything else I can clear up for you?”

It was like this weird buzzing in your head that you hadn't even noticed was there had finally stopped. Was it really that easy. “Yeah actually... would you mind if I joined you during your workouts sometime? I’m not in as good as shape as I used yo be... but..”

“But nothing... of course you’re welcome to join. I won't go easy on you though. Never have and I won't start now!”

You bit back a smile as you mind wandered back to the all the times at UA you stood across from him during training. He scared the absolute shit out of you then. His intensity had really done a number on your anxiety. But honestly whether he knew it or not it had also helped you prepare for the real world. “I wouldn't expect it any other way believe me.”

After diner you both got ready for bed and instead of watching tv in the living room you had decided to just go ahead and get in bed. You had expected him to stay up a little later but to your surprise he walked in a few minutes after and stood at the end of your bed, “So what's the deal? Am I sleeping on the floor or what?”

You gestured to the empty side of the bed, “That side’s all yours. I’m sorry in advance if I accidentally hit you. It hasn't happened in a while, but I’ve been known to thrash around when I’m having intense dreams.”

He smirked, “As if it would even hurt. I’ll be fine. It’s your bed anyways, thrash around all you want.”

You pulled out your iPad and started on a new crossword puzzle.

Bakugo crawled in to bed next to you and took a peak over your shoulder. “May I ask what is with you and crossword puzzles?”

You shrugged, “They’re fun. They keep your brain sharp. They’re relaxing. And sometimes they are excellent distractions. I love all puzzles though. Not just crosswords. I love anything that makes me think. I mean look at my job. Sometimes I feel like I’m just playing a game of clue.”

He scooted a bit closer and after a few minutes of silence he reached over to point at one of the clues, “ Nitroglycerin... thats the answer.”

You smiled, “I’d say I’m surprised but if you know about anything it’s about what blows up.”

He held a crackling hand close enough for you to see but far enough to not be dangerous, “Well I sweat the stuff, so of course I’d know about it but I’ll have you know I’m fucking smart. I’m not just a hot piece of ass. I got better grades than fucking Deku half the time. What app is that... I’ll show you.”

You giggled as you helped him download the puzzle page app on his phone and he immediately started to try and complete puzzles faster than you. You could hear him cursing under his breath when he would get stuck and once you caught him trying to take a peak at your screen.

“Katsuki! I know you are competitive but I never would have believed you to be a cheater!” You hid your screen from his view as your eyes connected with his slightly embarrassed look.

“I’m not a cheater! It’s not cheating! It’s just... reconnaissance...You had information I needed and I simply observed to gain that information...”

You swatted at him, “Oh you are so busted!”

He laughed “Shit calm down woman! You said it yourself! You fucking solve puzzles for a living! I needed all the help I could get!”

You sat up straight, “What happened to ‘I’m fucking smart. I’m not just a hot piece of ass’?”

He sat up too inserting himself into your personal space, “I am fucking smart! You’re just...” His voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, “fucking smarter.”

You were now on your knees jumping up and down, “Oh my fucking god! Did Bakugo Katsuki really just admit that someone was better than him at something?”

He hid his face while you jumped up and down in celebration but when he looked at you he looked happy, “Yeah yeah, whatever smalls. You win this time but there’s always tomorrow.”

You got back in you spot and grabbed the remote to turn on the tv, “I’ll probably beat you tomorrow too. But dont worry Katsuki... at least you’re still be a hot piece of ass..”

He gave you a light shove as you picked something to watch. It didnt take long for you to drift off. In fact you had fallen asleep much faster than you usually did. And for once your dreams where pretty tame. No bad memories haunting you, no anxieties dragging you down. Instead you dreamed about the UA sports festival, and this time you won instead of Bakugo.

When you woke up you felt a pressure on your back as well as a vice like grip around your hip. You didnt know what was more surprising, the fact you woke up before Bakugo, or that he was currently spooning you.

You cleared your throat and wiggled a bit to try and wake him up but he just groaned, “Uhhh y/n could you not wiggle your ass when I’m right behind you.”

You scoffed, “I wouldn’t have to if you were on your side of the bed.”

He squeezed you tighter, “I wouldn't be on your side of the bed if I hadn’t had to physically restrain you so you’d stop hitting me last night...”

You blushed, “I’m sorry... I did try and warn you...”

His eyes still closed, obviously still tired, “It’s cool, you calmed down as soon as I held you.”

You put your hand over his that was still wrapped around your waist, “Well I’m awake now Bakugo and I promise I won't hit you. You can let go.”

He just nuzzled further into your back, “Well I’m still tired and I don’t want to. You’re the perfect size for a teddy bear smalls.”

You tried not to, but you snorted, “Ground Zero needs a teddy bear to sleep?”

He froze before he shoved you almost off the bed, “Shut up smalls... I’m gonna go make coffee.... and lots of it.”

You watched the muscles in his back as he walked across the room in nothing but a pair of shorts... fuck... you were in over your head.

#bakugo #Katsuki Bakugō #bakugo katsuki #bhna bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo imagine #mha #mha imagines #mha bakugou #mha x reader #mha x y/n #my hero academia

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vroomian · 4 years ago

Note

(headdesk slam) Yes, that was 2/2 percent didn’t even realize I forgot to add it in the message until after I sent it and spent like 5 mins internally screaming at myself. I’m a mess of a human being tbh. Really? I’m surprised because it feels like Xi fits perfectly in this AU. Xi as accidental cryptid is the best thing, in both worlds. That’s a relief to hear. My anxiety and I don’t get along so I tend to go to worst possible scenario. You’ll probably regret that soon enough. 1/2

I’m like a magpie if something catches my interest and I’ll fuss over it and go all crazy. Especially now, seeing that you did that hob oneshot and mdzs that is two of the main three bl web novels that I now of. Like, of the three I’ve only fully read svsss and my mind immediately went to wonder where Xi would fit in that verse and at this point he’d totally be where the biggest amount of knowledge is and that my mind went ‘what if Xi was head disciple of Qing Jing Peak?’ 2/?

But that’s pretty unlikely given Xi’s desperate avoidance of feelings, plot, and responsibility. Though I could totally see him as a reluctant head disciple and desperately trying to avoid plot. Plus, definitely the first to notice that something would be off with this new Qingqiu. That said, bullying in his peak would not fly with him so I could see Binghe crushing on this unknown elder disciple.

3/3 I’m sorry I don’t want to make it seem like I want to push you to write another AU when you’ve got enough on your hands. My mind just just went ‘ooh what if this happened?’ And I wanted to share my thoughts with you because I think it’s interesting. So yeah, again feel free to ignore this. I’m like that guy from the meme with the pictures on the wall and red thread when my brain goes nuts lol.

long ask so this goes under the cut

okay there are a million different ways this question could go, because like. is yrz female in this universe? is he male? is he older than the main characters? is he younger? which sect is he living near? is his family nice or assholes? which version of the story is he in? the sssvs version or the actual original demon path novel (or whatever it’s been a while since i read the novel)??? does yrz get a system???

because the answers to those questions change the story drastically

okay so lets do two versions

one: it’s sssvs. yrz has a ‘background character system’ or something. he’s gotta have a system otherwise he wouldn't get without a thousand li of cang qiang sect. so this systems chooses him (lets say he’s a guy in this universe) because its low key and yrz is low key and it was like hey lets be low key together!

lol system.

lol.

but the system and yrz get along pretty well, and they get into the peak they want -- which is Wan Jian peak, because if yrz can’t join the library peak because of Plot reasons, he’s going with hsi second love. Swords! plus i don’t think there are literally any named characters from the story, except the peak lord.

so. timeline wise, i think that none of the peak-lords have ascended yet, so yrz does his natural thing --- he over performs and becomes the head disciple for wan jian peak as consequence and it’s literally just in time for the former peak lords to ascend, so yrz is like. stuck. as a peak lord.

both the system and yrz are horrified and confused as to how this happened. or, no, by then the system understands the Mistake it made in choosing yrz. on paper yrz is very unassuming! but in reality yrz has no chill. he’s never even heard of the concept of chill. he does everything at 110%.

I think that the bulk of this story takes place waaaay before the sssvs cannon, and lbh is sir not appearing in this fic. instead its -- liu qingge! and mu qingfang! both??? both is good! i think he meets lqg first, when he challenges yrz to a spar in the middle of a high stakes missing because lqg is a meathead jock at that age, and yrz is like. no? do your job? dumbass. (yrz has no idea who this shouty brat is, because the system is taking a nap. it wakes up and kicks itself for leaving yrz alone to do stuff.) yrz is older than lqg and kicks his ass because... well. because it’s hilarious really. so he gains a lqg shaped stalker.

yrz has a lot of interest in both sparring and healing, and with lqg following him around, yrz spends a lot of time at the healing peak and meets mqf there. mqf gets a huge crush almost immediately but never said anything. it’s not surprising that yrz quickly bonds with these totally cool new disciples -- and then learns that both of the are the succeeding disciples for their peaks. oops.

system gives up.

version two: bing-ge edition!

no system this time around and yrz stays far far away from the cang qiong. he joins a small sect to learn than fucks off to have adventures by himself as a rouge cultivator. so, male version again BUT yrz gets cursed or something and gets the ability to change gender at will because that’s funny and useful. also you know. porn world written by a “straight” guy. there are reasons for that kind of curse imma just gloss over.

then the plot happens. all of immortal demon path’s many, many chapters are playing around in the background of yrz’s life, but she manages to stay out of it -- until one night yrz gets accidentally recruited by a cult dedicated to bringing down the evil demon lord lbh, because this cult has a book yrz is after. she ends up being used as bait for lbh (because he eats virgins now according to rumors. he’s up to wife number 249 by now so it’s not wrong !)

yrz gets ‘saved’ by lbh, who’s kind of smirking and going ‘oh, no need to thank me, it was what anyone would have done,’ while totally expecting sex. yrz is like ‘oh, cool. bye then.’ and just. takes the book and leaves.

lbh: *surprised pikachu face*

and by the time he registers no sex is going to be happening, yrz is long gone and enjoying her brand new book.

after that, lbh and yrz end up seeing each other (mostly because lbh is trying to impress this woman and nothing is working) and yrz is like stop being a creep, i’m not interested in you. lbh needs to drink his respect woman juice and downsize on his harem a bit. yrz wouldn’t touch that with a twenty foot pool.

anyway i think it comes to a head when they both get doused in pa pa pa juice and lbh is like oh this is more familiar, shall we? and yrz is like bitch. and goes to a brothel in the city instead. at this point yrz and lbh are more like antagonistic buddies than anything else. lbh has too many wives and zero friends.

lbh starts developing some squishy feelings and is like what the fuck is this?? gross?? but he says nothing because he doesn’t get it.

then the cross over happens, bing-ge vs bing-mei!!! and after than happens, yrz is just chilling at home and lbh shows up at her place like really fucked up and subdued. he’s like ‘why him? why did he get the good teacher? what did he do right?’

yrz is like... hm. emotions. ew. she trys anyway because she’s finally ready to admit that she does like this trash goblin at least a little. so she takes care of him while he’s being depressed. lbh cooks for her and she’s like. this is so fucking good. thank you.

and lbh is just in love now. it’s nothing like he feels for his wives, but yrz makes lbh feels safe and accepted. it’s a comforting and comfortable love. yrz’s stupid little house is more of a home than lbh’s stupid palaces.

look. i stand by the head cannon that all lbh wants is to be a househusband, no matter what version im talking about.

lbh vanishes for a whole night. yrz is like hm, my house feels empty now. weird! and then lbh comes back and announces that he just divorced all his wives. he doesn’t want to be powerful anymore so can i stay herer with you.

yrz is like... sure.

and then there’s a long, long courtship and lbh marries yrz and archives his dream of just being fucking happy. the end!

#rivaladmirer21 #vrrm writes #so many possibilities #this universe is so funny #i can't decide which one i like better #svsss

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raereview · 4 years ago

Text

A Writer in Her Early Twenties Writing About Smoking Cigarettes and Feeling Inferior? …Groundbreaking

an essay I wrote in November of 2020 as I was nearing graduation from Columbia College-Chicago

You know when a bug gets stuck on its back and its little legs start flailing and it frantically rocks back and forth trying to flip back over? That’s how I’ve been feeling recently.

I started smoking cigarettes again to calm me down because smoking weed always makes me have an unwanted existential crisis. In high school, I loved smoking cigarettes because it made me feel like an adult. I dreamed of being someone like Carrie Bradshaw; smoking cigarettes at parties and being so terribly interesting that I only had to write one column a week to pay for a lavish lifestyle. That dream was only amplified when an English teacher wrote on one of my assignments in red ink that she wanted to read my memoir one day. After that, I smoked cigarettes my friends would steal from their stepdads, while I waited impatiently to turn 18 so I could be an adult, leave my hometown, and become a real writer.

Now I’m 21 and can legally buy cigarettes in the city of Chicago. I bought a pack of American Spirits two days after the 2020 Presidential Election because my anxiety was getting high and I couldn’t. I tell myself they are better than regular cigarettes— even though it clearly says on the package they aren’t. Just holding a cigarette is sex to me (I never describe things as sex, but my first Creative Writing professor used to, and she sounded so fucking cool when she did). I always feel dizzy after the first couple hits. I can’t imagine that’s normal. I know that weed is probably better for my body, but I like that no one judges me for not inhaling correctly like they do with weed. I can let the smoke barely touch my lungs before I puff it out of my lips, and no one says a goddamn thing. And so maybe it’s just the action of smoking, but I always feel calmer by the time I put out the cigarette, leaving behind that black mark and bits of ash.

On the 13th of November, Phoebe Bridgers and Maggie Rogers released a cover of “Iris” by Goo Goo Dolls because Bridgers tweeted that she would do so if Biden won the election. I didn’t recognize the song based off the title, but after a quick google search, I remembered hearing it on the radio growing up. It’s got one of those choruses that feels like it was written to be screamed at the top of your lungs in the car with the windows rolled down. I paid $1.50 for the song on Bandcamp (the proceeds went to Fair Fight), then I grabbed my pack of cigarettes, and went out to my back porch to listen to it. I’d barely been able to get out of bed all week, but I knew the cover needed my full attention because I recently became a “stan” of Phoebe Bridgers.

For a while I felt as if Phoebe was someone I knew through a friend of a friend; we ran in the same circles, but never really crossed paths. I adore Hayley Williams and Phoebe’s vocals were on my favorite song on her new album, most of the music I listen to is indie and makes you want to cry which is how you could describe her music, and her lowercase tweets always showed up on my timeline. I knew I’d become acquainted with her eventually, I just wanted to be ready; I had a premonition she’d change my life. I wanted us to fall into each other at the perfect moment.

Sometime in late June or early July, I was laying on the futon in my sister’s spare bedroom, staring at my phone in the darkness while everyone was asleep. The quiet nights of West Texas creep me out when I’ve gone months in Chicago without a moment of silence. I don’t remember what I was initially looking for on Spotify when her solo, sophomore album Punisher came up on the “recommended” section. I hit play because it felt like Spotify was a friend trying to set me up with her for the millionth time, telling me to just trust them and to meet her. It felt like the perfect moment, spilling our guts under the covers, “What if I told you I feel like I know you, but we never met?”

By “Moon Song” and “Chinese Satellite” I was silently weeping, trying not to wake up my nephews in the next room. Punisher made me feel introspective and existential, and the record almost gave me the same floating, panic feeling that weed gives me (but it’s cool when she does it). The strings from “Graceland Too” and “Savior Complex” swam inside my bloodstream and lifted me off the futon, off the part of Texas that I suspect she writes about hating. I was 16 when I had my first weed-induced existential crisis. My friends drove me around town in an attempt calm me down and I kept asking them if I was dead; Punisher feels like the soundtrack to that car ride. Receiving an impressive 8.7/10 on Pitchfork, the publication’s Sam Sodomsky describes her songwriting on the album as “candid, multi-dimensional, slyly psychedelic, and full of heart.” There are moments as a writer where a line makes me mad because of how well it described something I have yet to put words to, and Bridgers made me furious when she sang on the final track “I Know the End”: “When I get back I’ll lay around Then I’ll get up and lay back down Romanticize a quiet life There’s no place like my room.�� It’s so simple, but it perfectly described the way I can get so anxious that I spend most of my days in bed, convincing myself I’ll never not feel this way.

That’s at least how I’d describe my recent state of constant anxiety. I know it started before the election, but constantly checking news sites seemed to amplify everything. I think the thing I have been most anxious about (personally, not politically) is the fact that I’m moving back home to my hometown after I graduate next month. I finally became an adult, but I will be graduating with my Bachelor of Arts degree in Creative Writing, and I have no job prospects and no memoir in the making. I try to remain optimistic, but the catastrophic thinking my brain does is very convincing and tells me that if I can’t find a job in my field that I’m a bad writer, and if I’m a bad writer I’ll never be understood, and if I’ll never be understood I should just quit writing now, and if I quit writing then I should just lay in bed and not go to my zoom classes. It’s a long series of pointless, self-deprecating “and if’s”, but once they start it feels like telling yourself that you’re only going to smoke a couple cigarettes, and then you end up going through a whole pack in a few days and all you’re left with is regret and a headache. So, during that week of bed-ridden anxiety, I was thankful that my new love for Bridgers was stronger than my imposter syndrome. If I was doomed to be misunderstood, I wanted to listen to a writer who I feel like I understand.

When I went outside to listen the song, I quickly remembered that it was November in Chicago and my fingers shoved themselves deeper into my jacket sleeves. I managed to peak them out just enough to light a cigarette and hit play on the song. I was sure I looked very dramatic to the men doing construction on the apartment next door: a girl in her 20’s, smoking with her headphones in, staring off into the distance. The cover initially sounds more stripped and melancholic than the original, just Bridgers light vocals and an acoustic guitar. My legs were already shivering, but all the hairs on my body stood up higher when Rogers came in and their voices molded together. I don’t know her music, but the twang in Maggie’s voice that carries the second verse was comforting to my southern roots. I took a long drag when she sang “When everything feels like the movies, yeah you bleed just to know you're alive.” If I didn’t know better, I would have thought this cover was the original.

“Iris” is a song I’ve always known all the words to, but I had never really listened to the lyrics. The song was written by Goo Goo Doll’s John Rzeznik for the movie City of Angels (1998) staring Nicholas Cage. Rzeznik told Dan MacIntosh of Songfacts that when he wrote the song he was inspired by Cage’s situation in the film and thought “Wow! What an amazing thing it must be like to love someone so much that you give up everything to be with them.” Phoebe Bridgers’ songwriting feels like it comes from the same universe as “Iris”, specifically her song “ICU”. Both songs could technically be described as love songs, but I feel that a disservice to both.

They differ from traditional love songs because write about it in a realistic way, almost as if the thesis of both is “I know everything is awful and we could hate each other one day, but I want to be with you anyways.” A line from the chorus of “Iris” almost says this exactly, but far more eloquently, “When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am,” and then verses repeat this sentiment of knowing the love could end, but wanting the love anyways. Bridgers’ songwriting in “ICU” comes at a relationship with the same approach. The verses describe things she thinks could complicate or end the relationship (the other person’s family, someone falling out of love, self-sabotage). Regardless, the refrain keeps repeating, “But I feel something when I see you”. All this to say that when Bridgers sings Rzeznik’s lyrics, they feel as if they are her own.

The Goo Goo Dolls must have also thought Phoebe would do the song justice as their twitter account replied to Bridger’s original tweet a few days after Biden was announced the projected winner, saying “We’re waiting…” with the gif of Judge Judy motioning “hurry up”. When I read or hear really good writing, I selfishly question if writing is even actually what I’m meant to be doing… if it was something that should have stayed a hobby, or a poorly constructed daydream of becoming Carrie Bradshaw.

Recently, I wrote a paragraph about one of my favorite albums with the intention of writing a whole essay about it. However, after that I got stuck. Every time I tried starting the next sentence, I hit the backspace button until it was gone. I spent two whole days watching interviews with the artist, reading reviews of the album, listening to the whole record on repeat for hours, and I couldn’t get anything more than that paragraph. The words simply would not come to me. Moments like that, combined with rejection emails from literary magazines or hearing Bridgers sing lines that take my breath away, I wonder if I should keep fueling my love for something that will always love someone else more or if I should quit?

I listened to the cover of “Iris” on repeat until my cigarette was out. The big tree in my backyard is barren because of the new season, and so now more of my neighborhood is visible. It was around 4p.m. and the sun was already starting to set thanks to daylight savings (until I wrote that sentence, I didn’t think to consider my anxiousness and my need to stay in bed all day could also be attributed to seasonal depression). I’ve always been obsessed with sunrises and sunsets. I know I probably write about them too much: how they make the whole world “glow” orange, the transitions of the colors in the sky, how they always represent an end or a beginning. My hometown has the best sunsets and sunrises: the land is so flat you can see all the way to the horizon, there are no clunky buildings blocking your view. I thought maybe this sunset would spark inspiration in me, so turned to go toward the edge of my porch to see more of it, and for a second I looked at the windowsill I rested my lighter and cigarettes on.

Lying there was a fly stuck on its back. Before they fixed the insolation, our apartment was infested with so many flies that all summer the surfaces of my home were perpetually covered in fly guts. The fly’s little body twitched frantically as it tried to push itself over. I felt pity for the fly even though others of its kind spent the warmer months buzzing in my ear and making me want to move. As I watched the insect, I realized that my anxiety doesn’t feel like drowning or spiraling or falling. It feels like flailing— like a bug stuck on its back trying desperately to get right side up again. It’s kind of pathetic how much it feels like the end of the world. I might not be the first person to think of that, but the metaphor came to me so clearly that it took my breath away. Quickly, I used my lighter to flick the fly back onto its legs. We stared at each other for a moment. I know flies don’t have facial expressions, but I swear, it looked confused. I thought maybe it heard horror stories about me from its friends about the sweaty girl who kills them with rolled up newspaper and wondered why I helped it. Finally, it turned from me and crawled away in the opposite direction.

That fly made me like a god, but more importantly, it made me feel like a writer. I found the words again. Relating to an insect isn’t exactly Carrie Bradshaw or Phoebe Bridgers, but I was excited. I immediately ran inside and started this essay. My frozen fingers started to warm up as I typed everything out. It felt like writing and I were a married couple who had sex for the first time in months; we got our spark back. And I know writers aren’t supposed to wait for inspiration to start writing, and I know this doesn’t make me as good as Phoebe Bridgers, and I know I still don’t have any job offers, and I know I didn’t cure my anxiety but writing this felt really good.

When I wrote this essay, someone I showed it to said they “got my angst”, but not my love for writing. Maybe that’s because I don’t always love writing in the explosive, epic way I sometimes think I should? I love writing with the kind of love that I’m told is in good marriages; the love is a choice. There are days when I can’t stand a word I put on the page, but there are also the days where I find perfect metaphors for sunsets or anxiety or bugs or Phoebe Bridgers. There are days I lay in the warmth of someone else’s words as if they were the sun. There are days where I can’t stand go to class after turning an essay in because I don’t want people to associate the person on the page with the person sitting across the room from of them. However, even on days when I can’t stand writing or being a writer, I still wake up, put on my fake glasses that make me feel like an intellectual, I grab my New Yorker tote, I write silly lyrics I think of on the train, I read someone else’s work and remind myself they had 20 drafts of this I’ll never see, I reread my own work and see if any lines make me catch my breath, and I write.

I write because I still have the desire to be understood. I write to try and understand why I can’t stop loving it even when I hate it. I write because I fear one day the inferiority will be too much and I won’t wake up and choose to still love writing.

I still listen to Iris on repeat because the lyrics are as painfully relatable as they are catchy. At its core, the song is asking someone to understand. I think that’s what all I want, understanding. I want to know that someone else feels the same way I do about sunsets, or Carrie Bradshaw, or Punisher, or smoking cigarettes to look cool. If I write my truth, maybe someone will understand? Alexander Chee wrote in his How to Write an Autobiographical Novel that “To write is to sell a ticket to escape, not from the truth, but into it.” Maybe that’s why I don’t love being high because I feel like I am trying to escape the truth? Maybe that’s why I love Phoebe Bridgers’ songwriting and writing in general because it makes me feel like I am trying to escape into the truth? Maybe if I can make it to the truth, I’ll be understood?

Maybe I’ll understand?

Sources: Bridgers, Phoebe. Lyrics to “Punisher.” Genius, 2020, genius.com/albums/Phoebe-bridgers/Punisher. Sodomsky, Sam. “Phoebe Bridgers: Punisher.” Pitchfork, Pitchfork, 22 June 2020, pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/phoebe-bridgers-punisher/. Rzeznik, John. “Goo Goo Dolls – Iris.” Genius, 7 Apr. 1998, genius.com/Goo-goo-dolls-iris-lyrics. MacIntosh, Dan. “John Rzeznik of Goo Goo Dolls.” ShieldSquare Captcha, 12 June 2013, www.songfacts.com/blog/interviews/john-rzeznik-of-goo-goo-dolls. Chee, Alexander. How to Write an Autobiographical Novel. Bloomsbury, 2019.

#personal essay #writing #phoebe bridgers #iris #writer #goo goo dolls #nonfiction #music #music writing

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