#art twitter meme strikes again

[shellsweet]

Draw your comfort characters like this! 😂

[benetnvsch]

does anyone else remember her,, does anyone else miss her? (for context: clicky)

credit to stellar (@/itsvnllmlk) for this idea teehee

[howlsofbloodhounds]

hey senpai how do u think that comic with killer and swap would have ended? i was sad when i found out it was uncomplete i would rlly like to hear ur thoughtss

-ur favorite kouhai (＾ワ＾)

I don’t know which one you’re talking about as there were like, 2 lil comics from what I can see. The swap vs killer, Steven universe joke comic, and a few scattered drawings and asks here and there.

Although about the here’s the part where I post what I found on my TikTok a few months ago but couldn’t find again on rahafwabas’ tumblr again for some reason:

(Little twitter post was added on by me as apart of the meme collection thing. Art seems to be by rahafwabas, end of the Steven universe comic.)

As for the Killer vs Swap comic, given that Swap wakes up in the hospital and Chara and Papyrus are retelling the story to him—everyone is alive, and at least only swap is harmed—my best guess is that combined sight of both a Chara and a Papyrus so soon after being led into stargazing and dealing with an emotional flashback triggered him into Stage 1.

At most he probably fired blindly at Chara and Papyrus with his Blaster but didn’t stay around long enough to check, fleeing from the fight.

I don’t see Underswap Chara and Paps being able to win in a fight against Killer, and since they’re both still alive and neither seemed as hurt as Swap (which wouldn’t be the case if there was a fight, unless Killer was mainly focused on dodging attacks and not striking back the entire time), then im guessing Stage 1 retreated before he could kill them.

either stopping the Blaster before it could fire, or running away after/before it did—not sticking around long enough to see if Papyrus survived via dodging or not.

Papyrus always was Killer’s hardest enemy, he sometimes even feels sick about killing Papyrus. But despite that, usually Killer is able to kill Papyri with a smile, even if you can tell he doesn’t enjoy it. Seemingly not this time.

{ @iwannaleaveee2 }

[plutotimeslot]

Scrolling on Tumblr in 2023

opens app/website

twitter tiktok memes dogs & cats death crime climate change war death tiktok twitter @staff wont remove flashing ads wont stop suppressing discussion of war #1 war #2 war #3 Capital D Discourse lgbtq lgbq terf death terfs at a nazi rally cats & dogs dogs & cats tiktok twitter aesthetic art fanart death memes random shit small artist pixel art death death death anime corps refuse to give less than 1% of yearly earnings to workers strike #1 strike #2 strike #3 hot strike summer remember to change your profile pic when you arrive cats & dogs fanart youtube creator touches kids again death war crimes photography twitter tiktok funny omg lol anime gen z millennials oh god we're getting older twitter tiktok gen alpha is 13 omg climate change memes death art fanart war crimes white phosphorous fuck fuck fuck strike fanart animals tiktok

[coolgoodandfine]

Shhh... secret draft designs. Don't tell Twitter yet. Please give me any feedback, and feel free to read my many design thoughts under the cut. Also feel free to use the designs yourself.

Alright! The things right at the top that i wanted to keep in mind were things in the series that are distinct to mechanites vs things warforged have.

As far as I remember, there are only two notable ones. Mechanites have jaws that cannot move, instead they have face plates that can open up. And while the other isn't stated in canon, warforged have crystals in their eyes, and mechanites are never pictured or described in that way.

I almost broke the first rule on purpose with DX-TR, seeing as he's described as human-like and the negotiator, but as I was going through the series again, he was explicitly stated to have the same stiff jaw.

The only heights (I think) we have were that VR-LA got the haha funny meme number at 6'9", MR-SN was a few inches taller, and C-RA is at least as tall as Finbar (7'2"). From there, I wanted DX-TR to be nearly as tall as VR-LA, so he's around 6'6"/6'7". E-DN is about the same height as him because I feel like with her satyr legs, her being taller made sense. I put K-LB around 6'2" because I was originally going to have a slight joke that this height was after he'd already made mods to himself with heels and his mohawk. I didn't like how the heels came out, so I left it out. AS-TR is the shortest at the bare minimum height for warforged at 5'10". I'll get into that in the section discussing her design.

While it didn't really come up in these designs, since VR-LA has been pictured with yellow eyes, and described with blue, I've headcanoned that mechanites eyes change color based on how much processing they're doing. So the default would be blue, when they're calm and just hanging out. Their eyes switch to yellow when they're concentrating or focused on something specific. Orange is when they're flustered or upset. Red is the dramatic color for when they're really angy. I'd imagine someone like DX-TR can deliberately control it to avoid giving away some tell, but I don't think it's common for mechanites to do it.

The designs are mostly based on the same shapes and pieces that VR-LA has, rather than Vice/He-11, as those feel like they're kind of unusual in that regard. And even if they're not, I'd still chalk it up as a difference in their plane of origin. Onto individual character notes!

C-RA was described as being large, having a sort of knights templar, aesthetic, somewhat like living armor but more organic. Mostly what I referenced was plate armor, so pretty straight-forward. That being said, I feel like her design's a little plain. I wanted to add something to her head to help distinguish her head silhouette more. Plus I feel like her colors are too desaturated, and she just doesn't really have a shape that carries throughout her design. Idk, it's fine, but it just doesn't feel striking.

MR-SN was described as being slender, regal, and with a permanent smile in his eyes. I feel like I had a similar issue with him that I had with C-RA where there doesn't seem to be anything that carries through his design. I feel like I captured the face pretty well at least where he looks kind and kind of like a dad who's just proud of you. He's one I kind of feel like with clothes, his design might work better. I had no clue what color to go for, so it's just a color that I thought would be unique enough to the group.

VR-LA is just based on his season 1 art. The only thing I changed from how I drew him before, was mostly just proportions, like around the joints. I wanted him to be a thin, scrawny nerd, so he's also more narrow than before. My goal was half of C-RA's size, and I think C-RA's about 1 1/2 VR-LA's, so it's close enough.

DX-TR was described as human-like and bald with a flesh tone color. He was honestly really easy. As a joke, I referenced Seth Everman for his face sculpt, and I think it came out well. Mostly I referenced human muscles for his sculpt. I considered giving him tattoos, but didn't really have any ideas for that. He's got two notably unique traits from the rest of the group. He's the only one without shoulder pauldrons, which I kinda want to change, but idk there, and the light in his eyes is round rather than the cross design I treated as baseline. I wanted a less human saturation in skin, and I don't think I achieved that, but I'm not sure it'd look as good. I kinda want him more uncanny valley, but idk what to do there.

E-DN was described as a similar mechanite design as VR-LA, but with satyr legs. I gave her horns and horizontal pupils, mostly just for variety. I gave her a little more of just a round shape compared to VR-LA's more angular shapes. Her design I like over all. I like the colors, and I think the mint accents help her stand out. She's got good shapes and a good silhouette. And everything feels like it came out pretty well with her.

K-LB I'm torn on. I almost feel like he stands out too much. As far as what's described, I had the hardest time figuring out his design. He's described as a standard mechanite that's gold with fine gold filigree that looks like wire mesh, as well as a blue glow from his arms. I was going for somewhere around a punk-ish Rodney Copperbottom from Robots kind of idea. The filigree mesh I just used a nonsense text brush because i didn't have any specific ideas there. I like how the yellows/blues look together. I like the hexagon shape that carries throughout. His silhouette's mostly different enough from everyone else. I don't think he's too saturated. Yet I just don't feel like his design fits him, and I don't know what to do. He's the one I feel like scrapping and redoing the most.

AS-TR was described with long hair, and a slight glow, but didn't have much of a description as far as I remember otherwise. She had two notable design inspirations. Selûne and my cat who coincidentally has the same name (mostly my cat lol). One of Selûne's avatar's is described as long limbed (which is kind of how I just drew the mechanites), with pale hair, dusty skin, and green eyes. The pattern around her eyes is a less exaggerated version of some of her iconography. Her eyes are tinted green with her holy symbol as the shape of the lights. If I were smart, I'd actually have put all seven of the stars that are a part of Selûne's holy symbol (and I might change that later). Aster (my cat) is a tiny little black cat with a grey undercoat and two tiny lil white spots. So from there, I made AS-TR the smallest mechanite, she's two different shades of grey, and she has two little white spots on her chest in a similar size, shape, and location as Aster's. As a result of the name coincidence, and from what we've seen, similar personality, AS-TR is required to be my favorite, lol. Even excluding that though, I do like how her design came out too. Like I said, I might change the design slightly to have the seven stars across her, and I might change the greys to have more contrast because they're too similar, but the whole design came close to what I had in mind.

Over all, I'm pretty satisfied with all of these designs, and while there's things I'm going to change, I think these are all pretty solid.

[lollytea]

what (human) social media do you think the hexaquad uses/is on. Because personally I think Luz is weird and bi enough that she would use tumblr and completely commit to the goncharov bit

Luz absolutely uses tumblr as her primary socmed and she has an intimate relationship with the nature of its insanity. She's the one the others ask when they stumble across an utterly incomprehensible meme and Luz will be like "Okay so basically the origin of eeby deeby is--"

She has two blogs. One for art and one for reblogs/fandom/shitposting. She used to have a twitter but she deleted it some time during the Thanks to Them montage because she was dealing with too much bullshit to tolerate the cesspool. She has an Instagram that she uses exclusively for posting art.

Oh and ao3. How could I forget ao3?

I feel like Amity is completely uninterested in human social media. Out of all the kids, she's the only one who didn't really find a specific hobby/interest during her time in gravesfield. She's already got a pensta and she likes how it's tailored for witch society. She'd have no interest in Instagram or twitter or shit like that. BUT she would absolutely go apeshit once she discovers the Good Witch Azura fandom in the Human Realm. (Literally NOBODY back home even knew what those books were.) She doesn't understand the memes and shitposts or general culture but Amity would absolutely have a fandom specific tumblr. She mostly just reblogs from Luz. An ao3 too of course <3

Willow used pensta for general teen reasons like selfies and socializing with her friends before she came to Gravesfield but now that she's developed an interest in photography? Oh that girl's account is gonna get such a glo up. She'd have an Instagram too. She actually becomes pretty popular on both accounts. Not ✨️Influencer✨️ status but she's gained quite a following of humans and witches alike.

I like to imagine that she also has a Pinterest. Idk she strikes me as somebody who'd enjoy collecting aesthetic pics and making boards. For the same reason she also has a tumblr that's mostly aesthetic with the occasional feral little reblog like this thrown in

Gus is a tiktok kid!!! Gus is SUCH a tiktok kid!!! I could also see him having a YouTube channel where he posts deranged little vlogs (in this universe Gus13 does not exist or its after it happened and only adds more fuel to the fire.) A twitch too maybe?? I could see him streaming. Basically I just think Gus would be drawn to all the video-focused social media.

I think he'd have a twitter too where he tweets his insane little thoughts and it actually blows up in popularity because people think it's a parody account.

Also....he would read Wikipedia religiously and eventually get banned from making his own edits.

Ok ok ok ok I think it would be so funny if Hunter got his penstagram account back in ASIAS, got so excited about finally having a regular teen experience but after a year or so once he's become well acquainted with pensta culture he's like "Well. This sucks."

So basically

Back when Hunter got a scroll, he followed Willow and that was that. He never followed anyone else. He has never posted anything. He can't even be convinced to follow any more of his friends. Not even Gus. He has notifications on for when Willow posts. He pops in to like them and then he fucks off again. People have forgotten that Hunter even has an account.

But when it comes to human socmed OHHHHH....

I want to say he has a devianart. But I'm not sure because I'm pretty sure that devianart is a husk of its former self. So he probably just has a tumblr. Hunter has not yet learned that you can make seperate blogs for all your different interests so his blog is a cluttered mess of his whole autistic self Cosmic Frontier brainrot, wolves, anime, the occasional embroidery pics that Willow tags him in.

Also he would be on neopets.

BONUS CHARACTERS:

Camila is on Facebook and Instagram. Also after the events of the series she gradually begins to rediscover the Cosmic Frontier message boards she used to frequent back when Manny was still alive. They brought back memories of her grief for the longest time but she's beginning to once again embrace her love for the series. She's even reconnected with some old online friends <3

Vee would have all the Normal Human Teenage Girl Social Media. She mostly uses twitter, Instagram and Pinterest. She also stays active on Facebook just to like her mom's posts.

Mattholomule would use reddit. Don't disagree with me I'm right.

[insertdisc5]

Devlog #8: QA and Q&A

(all the screenshots i have left are spoilers. while i take more, have a meme)

Hello everyone! Welcome to this month’s devlog!

If you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I’m the developer, writer, artist, main programmer, etc of the game. The game being In Stars and Time, which is the next and final game in the START AGAIN series, following START AGAIN: a prologue (available here!).  You can find out more about In Stars and Time here!!! 

LET’S GET TO IT

With the game’s alpha finished, I didn’t do anything much worth talking about this month. QA is underway! I’m fixing bugs! I’m writing changelogs that say stuff like “At the hallway before that one room, getting to the edge 2+ times wont softlock anymore if you do it between the wall and a column”!!!! I’m also resting because September was a LOT!!! 

So, since I have very little to say, I asked people on Twitter to ask me questions, so I could answer them. Q&A time!

@ItsMeLilyV asks:

1. I really have been in love with monochrome & limited palette styles recently :3 How did you figure out the art style for ISAT? Are there any distinct challenges or walls you've run into? 

2. did you get to take any good naps. how would you rank the naps on a 10-pt scale

1. The TLDR is: it’s more fun to draw in black and white. And it’s faster. And it looks cool as hell!!!

I did run into some challenges especially when it came to UI- how do you draw the eye of the player to a selection, or something they need to interact with, when you can’t use an eye-catching color to draw them in?!? I ended up relying a lot on level design to do that… And animations, too, especially in the House where everything is frozen! Keeping a very limited palette also helps, I think I mostly used black, white, and maybe 5 shades of grey in between… It’s all about contrast! And not having a big muddy grey mess!!!

2. I got some good naps in, yeah. I’m a big fan of naps after lunch, so I eat, wait for the sleep to kick in, and sleep for 2-3 hours. Solid 8/10 naps. That’s heaven babes!!!

@gertritude asks:

I am curious about what your writing process is for the game!! Like, what is your planning process (if you have one) and how do you approach actually writing for it?

My writing process… It’s a little all over the place to be honest! 

I had the big strokes of ISAT figured out from beginning to end before I even finished the prologue, but then I had to really sit down a bunch of times and really figure out how to get from point A to point B. So it involved a lot of writing, and also rewriting, to Foreshadow some Cool Stuff. Also, early on I was really struggling with some plot points, so I sat down for a whole day and wrote down the entire plot from beginning to end, and tried to get really granular and write down those middle point A to point B things! If I didn’t know what would happen I just invented something on the spot! As long as the whole story was written!!! It took a while, but I’m really glad I did this, because this saved me a lot of time later on hehe

Apart from the big plot events, the smaller events that are conversations between the characters usually just come out of nowhere, like “ok I have a table here and I put cookies on it. How would everyone react?”. I try to strike a balance between “this is how people talk” and “does it say anything new about those characters”, whether it’s a character’s favorite food, or a nice foreshadowing moment that you’ll reread later and go “OH DAMN… ALL ALONG THIS WAS HERE…”

My big go-to technique to actually write is that every day 1. I decide I’m going to work for 15mn and I start a timer 2. I put my headphones on 3. I start my concentrate playlist, which is full of instrumental electro/dubstep/wub wub adjacent music 4. ????? 5. Writing accomplished. The 15mn goal is just because it’s easy to write for 15mn. I always write for longer, but I just need to get started with an easy goal!

@_blade0fgrass_ asks:

Is it hard coming up with such immaculate puns

I would like to thank punpedia from the bottom of my heart. And also google. Thanks punpedia thanks google!

@kayleighdotjpeg asks:

keeping spoilers in mind, who are your favorite characters to write? which character dynamics are your favorite? did any of them surprise you?

This is THE question. Thank you so much. 

I loved to write Siffrin (especially when they’re all depressed teehee), but Odile ended up being my Actual Favorite to write. Most characters are either 1. Full of secrets or 2. Pushovers and/or oblivious, so it’s very nice to have Odile be the one to say “Alright, enough of this. We will talk about the elephant in the room Right Now”. She’s very blunt and doesn’t care about anything and she is so useful as a plot device and I love her.

Siffrin and Odile is my favorite dynamic, followed closely by Siffrin and Loop! As for surprising character dynamics, I reaaaaally enjoyed writing Odile and Isabeau… I didn’t get to write them often, but they are so fun to write together. Please ask me this question again once the game comes out so I can say more.

@novvclutchmate asks:

How do you go about finding a balance between levity and seriousness? Would you say your story tips more in one direction than the other; if so, was it on purpose and why?

What a good question! Hmm, for me and my writing style personally, it’s less about finding a balance, and more that One Cannot Exist Without The Other. It’s like adding sweetness to a savory dish- adding them together elevates the whole thing!!! 

If I have a serious scene, I like to add some levity to kind of bring the characters back to earth. I don’t know about you, but when I have a serious conversation for too long, I automatically laugh or tell a joke to break the tension! I get uncomfortable when it’s too serious! It’s normal! I’m normal!!!! It’s also a way for the audience to breathe out- don’t worry player, we’re good! We’re back to the usual stuff! Plus, I find that funny scenes right after a serious emotional scene hit harder.

As for seriousness to levity, I think it’s fun when you have a funny slice of life scene and then the story reminds you that this scene is Serious Actually. Like having everyone talking happily and the narrator saying  “it makes you sad when your friends keep repeating the very same lines every time.” :)

ISAT tips more towards levity I’d say, because of the reasons listed above! If you’re used to funny cute scenes and then I give you a Serious Emotional scene it makes you go Σ(っ °Д °;)っ

@gala_ksyz

is there any words youd like to tell aspiring/young indie devs?

Just make the dang thing!!! Stop putting it off!!! Just do it!!! Buy a simple game maker thing like rpgmaker or renpy or whatever and make the thing!!! Yes it’ll take time!!! Yes it won’t be as good as you imagined in some ways!!! Yes making games is hard!!! But you gotta just do it!!! It’ll be so much better than you imagined in other ways!!! It’ll be real!!! You’re the only one who can make it!!! It’s yours!!! It comes from your heart!!! It IS your heart!!! No one else can make it but you!!! So just make the dang thing!!! I believe in you!!! JUST MAKE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That’s all I have to say for today! Let me know if you have any questions, or if there’s any aspect of the game development struggle you’d like me to talk about! See you next time!!!

AND DON’T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ON STEAM ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THAT’S THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!

[dungeonqueering]

2021 Be Like

JANUARY

Bean Dad

Storming the Capitol

Impeachment 2

Reality Shifting Draco Malfoy Murder

Parler Hacked

Sea shanties are BACK BAY BEEEEEE

Inauguration outfits

BERNIE'S MITTENS

Militant Vegan Lady Tries to Bully Children and Gordon Ramsey

Executive Orders

Reddit Kills Hedgfunds with GameStonks

Politician openly believes California Wildfires were started by Jewish Space Lasers and somehow isn't removed from office for blatant antisemitism

Lady Dimitrescu,,, lady.... Tall

FEBRUARY

EEBY DEEBY

The Queen doing monarch shit on the DL

India Treating Farmers Very Badly

I promise I'm not a cat lawyer video

Trump Acquitted even though 57 / 100 voted against him.

Texas has no power, Cruz flies to Cancun for a vacay while ppl die

Rush Limbaugh dies, crab rave

WE LANDED PERSERVERANCE BAY BEE

Daft Punk retired. :(

Texas Freezes Over, Cruz goes to Florida this time.

March

Texas lifts mask requirements

Biden bombs Syria instead of helping people.

Dems pass the $1400 stimulus. No republicans support it, they could have included anything in that bill and the GOP couldn't have stopped them. They CHOSE to make it less.

Harry and Meghan on Oprah drag the royal family

NFTs enable art theft

Stimmy Time

The Pope says Catholics can get the J&J vaccine only if it's the only one available (it has stem cells)

Anti-asian hate crimes in Georgia

EverGiven runs aground in Suez Canal

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME (Montero)

Shrimp Tails in Cinnamon Toast Crunch

EverGiven freed six days later.

April

Prince Phillip dies, crab rave

Mars Helicopter Ingenuity

ON 4/20 THEY CONVICT DEREK CHAUVIN ON ALL COUNTS FOR MURDERING GEORGE FLOYD

May

This is the May

Israel somehow being EVEN WORSE to Palestine.

An oil pipeline company's financial systems are attacked, so they can't properly charge customers. They shut off the pipeline rather than risk anyone getting free gas. People put gas in plastic bags.

Israel now attacking news organizations.

CDC lifts mask recommendation foolishly.

Legendary children's author Eric Carle passes away.

June

Pride Discourse AGAIN

Annakin and Padme meme

Batman isn't allowed to eat pussy because "Heroes don't do that"

People are surprised the FNAF guy is a republican

Derek Chauvin sentenced to 22.5 years

John McAfee dies in a Mexican prison, where he was for tax evasion. It looks mildly sus, but Crab Rave.

Britney Spears fights her Conservatorship

July

TSR is back and they're transphobes

Britney Spears loses her fight. :(

Bill Cosby released from jail.

The Olympics are being HELLA racist. Banning swim caps for natural Black hair, banning two Black women for their natural testosterone levels, and banning one Black woman (who may very well be the fastest woman ever) because she smoked weed one time (in a place it's legal) to deal with the fact that an interviewer told her her mom had just passed away.

Ocean is literally on fire because a pipe broke.

Oh btw Israel is still doing human rights violations and denying vaccinations to Palestinians.

Catholic run Canadian and american residential schools found to have hundreds of bodies each of indigenous children taken from their parents to be indoctrinated into white society. As of July 2, 1505 at 7 out of 504 schools.

Right wing protests in Cuba

Olympic anti-sex beds

Popeye the Sailor, Nonbinary Icon??

Steam Deck (100k pre-orders)

Lmao Tumblr thinks we'll pay for premium content. Cute. Love that for them.

Australia hires furry artist to draw furries to promote the Olympics.

Texas puts $10,000 bounty on anyone who helps anyone get an abortion.

Chuck Tingle got DMCA'd for music on Twitter

Cleveland changes baseball team name to not be so racist

Jeff Bezos goes to space and, unfortunately, survives

Blizzard employees (and Activision employees, Blizzard's parent company) threaten to walk after it's revealed that, unsurprisingly, the company treats women like shit up to and including a culture of assault.

Frito-Lay workers end 20 day strike with inches gained.

August

Delta Variant of Covid is 'as contagious as chickenpox'. Mildly vaccine resistant, but still mostly affecting the unvaxxed.

Chrischan arrested on... Look, don't worry about it. Don't look it up. She did a very bad crime, leave it at that.

Idris Elba is gonna play Knuckles?

QAnon guy murders his family

Federal board of education decides to enforce masks in all public schools for '21-'22 school year.

Britney Spears' dad is gonna step down from her conservatorship maybe?

Taliban starts taking over Afghanistan

Places are probably going to shut back down due to Delta Variant not being taken seriously.

Governor Cuomo of New York steps down over sexual harassment allegations. (Fuck him)

OnlyFans getting rid of porn.

OnlyFans backs down obvi

Hurricane

By Talos this can't be happening

September

The Supreme Court refuses to see case about Texas abortion bounty.

ABBA releases new music

Ford Germany makes gay trucks

There Are Many Benefits To Being A Marine Biologist

Steve from Blue's Clues gives us all closure.

Suez canal blocked again (but only for a few hours)

Bongcloud chess move

MET Gala outfits, discourse (unfortunately)

Lil Nas X's first album, Montero

Nicki Minaj's Cousin's Friend's Balls

Epik, far right web hosting service, hacked. Embarrassingly weak security.

Gabby Petito goes missing, found dead.

Elvira comes out, has had a girlfriend for 19 years.

Chris Pratt cast as Mario for some godforsaken reason

Grimes and Elon Musk break up

China bans cryptocurrency

DnD 5.5e announced

Britney Spears' dad removed from her conservatorship, it's now run by an accountant chosen by Britney

"I can't believe you've done this." Taken down from YouTube after 14 years. Owner disputes. Denied. Heavy social media backlash gets them to manually re-allow it.

October

Grimes does stuff for attention I guess.

Facebook goes down briefly.

Squid Game

Dawn's Kidney Donation

Twitch breached massively.

Even bigger breach than the Panama papers shows what we already been knew. Pandora Papers.

Dave Chappelle actively a transphobe. People somehow forgot about his bigotry from, like, 2 years ago.

Alec Baldwin kills a cinematographer in an accident involving a gun firing blanks. Proper safety checks weren't done because of non-union being hired by the producer... Alec Baldwin.

Margaret Atwood makes a bunch of transphobic posts.

Brian Laundrie's remains found in Florida.

Kat Von D's anti-vax Nazi ass moving to Indiana

Facebook changing their name to Meta, Mark Zuckerberg shelf Barbecue sauce.

Marilyn Manson converting back to Christianity thanks to Justin Bieber and Kanye West???? Probably to deflect from him being outed as a sex pest tbqh

November

Zillow algorithm buys too many houses, record losses for the company, fires 25% of staff.

Turns out Meta is already a company and FB failed to buy the rights, so Meta is doing legal action against FB.

The IRS to start requiring NFTs report transactions over $10,000 just like they do for cash. Crypto Bros freak out

Travis Scott concert gets people killed (not of COVID)

Mercedes Lackey thinks trans people don't belong in fantasy

Brittney is free!!

Kyle Rittenhouse trial.

The Queen's New Phase

Kyle Rittenhouse ruled not guilty despite going to a place specifically hoping for violence.

Hillary Clinton-Kin fanfiction on the NYT Best Sellers

John Deere Strike doubles their raises among other successes

NFT Pirate Bay Funged the Tokens

Omicron Variant.

December

Ponder the Orb

Gen Zers on Reddit use algorithms and effort to crash Kellogg's website with bogus job applications , thereby preventing scabs from applying.

Ben Shapiro's sister tries to slut shame Madonna by comparing her to Nancy Reagan. Turns out Nancy Reagan was PROLIFIC at oral sex while working in Hollywood. Trending #throatgoat #superhead

Kellogg trying to hire scabs going VERY BADLY

Giant Tornado kills factory workers forced to keep working at 3AM directly in the path of the tornado despite the company knowing the dangers

Anne Rice died, AO3 goes wild

Kellogg strike ends, workers get a pretty good deal!!

Tumblr censors stuff in a very bad way.

Betty White dies. :(

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter Eleven (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“I don’t think I could come up with anything negative about you.”

Brooke’s eyes are sincere as she says it, and Vanessa’s heart starts to beat just a little bit faster. Vanessa’s a person who’s always on the go, not one to slow down if she doesn’t have to but Brooke has the ability to make her world pause for just a second. Brooke changes Vanessa’s focus from what’s in front of her to solely her, and Vanessa almost wishes she could keep it there forever.

It’s never that hard for Vanessa to come up with words to reply with, especially not towards Brooke, but her brain feels like it has shuddered to a stop, pressing on the brakes because the small smile on Brooke’s face is more important to focus on. She could say something stupid, something funny, maybe return the sentiment but she doesn’t get a chance to decide on what to do before Yvie lets out a scoff.

“Except for your dislike of Chicken Little. That’s a negative if I’ve ever seen one.”

AN: Hi, I'm still alive, I promise. Popping back into this lovely fic nearly eight months later (a new job, a new apartment, a new city, and a new cat later too) and I love it just as much as I did in January. Eight months is good for plot to marinate and develop and I'm excited to get back to writing this fic again. If you're still around for this journey, thank you and know I'm so grateful for it. Please do tell me your thoughts if you read! Thank you writ for betaing ily <3

“So you have that interview with Glamour, I’ll set it up for some time this week, and Teen Vogue wants to do something on their Youtube channel. Who knew that was a thing? I’m working on Adidas’ rep to finagle a sponsorship outta them, and Under Armour on the backburner just in case-”

Vanessa bursts through the doors of the gym while Detox continues talking in her ear, not at all apologetic about the way that she has to interrupt her as she ambles towards Brooke’s office. “Just reached the gym. We’ll have to continue this later, ‘cause training waits for no one, right?”

“I see exactly what you’re doing, but I’m not mad at it. Go work on building those boxing skills that’ll keep lining your pockets for years. Toodles!”

Vanessa lets out a snort when Detox hangs up the phone. “Toodles? Who the hell says that?”

“Detox?” Brooke looks up from her book, an amused smile on her face. “I know that trick.”

“What trick?” Vanessa squints her eyes as she sits down, trying to read the cover of Brooke’s paperback. “Are you reading Chicken Soup for the Soul? ”

Brooke waves a hand. “Doesn’t matter. And the trick of dipping out of Detox’s phone calls. Why else would you get to the gym so early?”

“Oh, come on. I’m early sometimes. Occasionally,” Vanessa grins, and Brooke doesn’t buy it in the least from the way she raises an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not. I like Detox, I really do, don’t get me wrong. She’s hysterical and good at her job, real good at it, but damn.”

“Detox works hard,” Brooke nods, understanding in her eyes. “It’s a lot to handle sometimes.”

“She cranks up the exposure by a million and targets it in specific places and it works, ‘cause I have a lot of followers and deals now but…”

“But what?”

Brooke leans forward, pushing her book to the side as she looks earnestly at Vanessa. It’s striking, sometimes, how Brooke gives her full attention. How much she cares sometimes.

It’s nice.

“It feels real wild, y’know? Like all I did was become a meme, and now my face is going to be in a Spotify commercial. How does that jump happen?” Vanessa shifts in her chair, letting out a sigh. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

It’s as if Vanessa is riding in a car that’s only getting faster and faster, not quite in control of the steering wheel or knowing when she’s going to be able to stop. Sure, the ride is fun, but it also feels like she’s driving without a license, as if she’s skipped the learner’s permit stage and hit the highway instead.

“She wants to capitalize on it as much as possible. Keep you in the spotlight even after the next big meme rolls around,” Brooke shrugs, before pausing for a second, a look of concern in her eyes. “It’s not too much, is it? I can always talk to Detox with you if you feel like it’s overwhelming-”

“Nah, I’ll survive,” Vanessa shrugs, giving her best reassuring smile to Brooke. “Lush sent me some free shit the other day. I like goodie bags.”

Brooke snorts. “Fair enough. Bath bombs are a reason to keep going.”

“Want some? I got enough for a month's worth of spa days.” Vanessa makes a mental note to bring some of the freebies for Brooke on their next practice. She’s earned half of everything, at least.

“You have any of the sakura ones?” Brooke is tentative with her question, and Vanessa nods enthusiastically.

“You’re getting all of ‘em.”

“Now, hold on a second-”

“It’s six. Don’t we have practice to start?” Vanessa’s up and out of the office before Brooke can protest any further. “I’m gonna go change.”

Practice is nice. Practice feels familiar amongst all the new chaos in Vanessa’s life. It lets her turn her brain off and get away from the people that recognize her out in public, the way her Instagram is now solely for sponsored posts. The way she feels like a caricature of herself, almost, because others have an opinion of who she is based on a ten second video clip.

But practice isn’t like that. In the gym, Brooke is the same as ever, pushing and pushing her until sweat is drenching her back and her mind is spinning and she feels more alive than she ever has. When Brooke throws moves at Vanessa that she has to work in overdrive to block and counter with some of her own, it’s familiar. Even though she’s tired and gasping for breath, it’s what she knows how to do, and in an environment that isn’t unsettling or foreign.

The best part about it? Vanessa can still feel herself learning. Growing. Stepping up to the challenges that Brooke throws at her. Sure, she’s not aching to get back into the competition ring anytime soon, but the approving smiles from Brooke when she gets in a good hit or when she avoids a shot that would previously knock her on the ground gives her a thrill every time.

The end of practice leaves Vanessa with a new sense of longing that’s only been present the last few weeks, since this whole meme mess has started. Leaving the gym is hard, because it means Vanessa has to go outside again, pull her hat down when passerby on the sidewalk give her a second look. She has to unlock her phone and pretend to be busy, but then she’s faced with comments pouring in on every social media account that she opens. She can text one of her friends but it’s hard to continue a conversation, really, after it starts with a rousing Miss Vanjie, no matter how much in jest.

Being outside the gym means that she’s reminded of her new loss of normalcy.

She takes her time switching back into her sweats after she showers, dragging her feet as she leaves the change room with her gym bag slung over her shoulder. When she squints her eyes she can see Brooke at the far end of the gym, teetering on a stool as she repositions one of the crooked banners. Brooke turns around almost as if she can tell Vanessa is there, a good natured smile and an easy wave following immediately.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Need any help?” Vanessa’s stalling a bit by asking, but maybe Brooke really could use a hand with the banners, or at least an extra set of eyes to make sure that they’re nice and straight.

She’s just helpful, that’s all.

Brooke, to her credit, doesn’t call Vanessa out for it as she squints, admiring her handiwork. “I think they’re as aligned as they’re ever going to be. I’m going to get ready to leave for the night, too.”

“Oh,” Vanessa doesn’t mean to sound a little disappointed as Brooke jumps off the stool, fiddling with the jacket that’s slung across her arm. “Already?”

“It’s almost eight thirty,” Brooke points out, padding past Vanessa towards her office door and grabbing her coat off of the hook. “You’re not tired and ready to go home yet?”

“I just…”

Vanessa trails off, looking down at the ground. She’s not sure what to say, really. All that’s waiting for her is her apartment, but she can’t mindlessly scroll Twitter or Instagram before bed without seeing her face again. She needs to reply to her friends’ texts, but the notifications are piling up on top of one another like a mountain that she’s not really sure how she’s going to climb.

Vanessa just wants to avoid it all.

Brooke pauses, and each second that passes makes Vanessa’s heart constrict because maybe she should just try to explain, but she doesn’t know how to and it feels like too much-

“C’mon. My roommate and I are having a late dinner and rewatching Chicken Little. Are you in for a nacho night?”

Brooke’s looking at her expectantly and Vanessa wants to say yes, but what pops out of her mouth is what’s pressing on her even more. “Did you say rewatching Chicken Little?”

“It’s a good movie!” Brooke’s defensiveness makes Vanessa crack a smile despite how restless she feels, how much she’s fidgeting while standing in place. “Come over and you’ll see.”

“Y’know, we haven’t talked about movies before, but this recommendation is making me question what your taste is like,” Vanessa lets out a giggle, when Brooke’s mock offense takes over her face as she puts a hand to her heart.

“The disrespect. You’re not getting nachos with those kinds of statements,” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s gym bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she holds the door open. “Now c’mon.”

Brooke’s apartment is not what Vanessa expects - there are colours and tapestries lining the walls and even one on the ceiling, and she’s pretty sure she sees a bong on top of the refrigerator. It’s pretty, though, with the art splashed across every free surface and the shelves filled with books upon books, piles of even more on the actual floor. Vanessa has to resist the urge to go and sit down on the wicker chair in front of the television that’s suspended from the ceiling.

“Yvie’s the one behind the decor.” Brooke has a knowing smile on her face and Vanessa can feel her cheeks heat up, from how easily Brooke can read her mind. “Moved in a few years ago after she broke up with a long term partner. Never really got around to adding things of my own to the walls.”

Vanessa snickers before she can even get her joke out properly. “What would you add? A Chicken Little poster?”

Brooke, for her part, doesn’t miss a beat. “Nah. A poster of your meme.”

“Wow-”

“I know we were thinking nachos, but picture this. Chicken nuggets while we watch Chicken Little.” A girl with bright green hair pops her head out from behind a door, waving at the two of them.

Vanessa waves back, her eyebrows lifting higher and higher on her forehead when she realizes how tall the girl is as she walks closer. Even Brooke has to look up at her which is a strange sight on its own, considering how much Brooke towers over Vanessa.

Then again, Vanessa’s used to being the short one.

“Vanessa here is doubting the movie’s genius,” Brooke raises an eyebrow, and the girl lets out a fake gasp.

“Um, not a movie. Chicken Little is a film. An artistic masterpiece.”

“Are you two the presidents of the Chicken Little fan club?” Vanessa asks, as Brooke sticks her tongue out at her.

“Yes. And no, you can’t join.”

It’s interesting how Brooke’s work demeanor has dropped now that she’s in her own apartment, her normally squared shoulders a little more relaxed. It reminds Vanessa of when they went roller skating, seeing how much fun Brooke had while pulling her around the rink.

Vanessa wants to see more of it.

Brooke points at her roommate as the girl sticks out a hand. “Ness, this is Yvie. Yvie, Vanessa. I’m coaching her.”

“You’re introducing her as if I haven’t heard you talk about her every single day for the last however many months,” Yvie drawls and Brooke’s sputter is immediate, making Vanessa’s breath hitch a little in her throat.

Brooke talks about her?

Yvie pats Brooke on the back as if she’s choking on her water rather than on some words, sticking her other hand out for Vanessa to shake. “You’re Brooke’s favourite student. Also her only student, technically, but still a favourite nonetheless.”

Brooke’s cheeks are bright pink and Vanessa can’t deny that the sight is adorable, seeing her flustered for once. Still. Brooke probably recaps their training sessions and nothing more.

“As long as it’s mostly positive,” Vanessa shrugs, and the way Brooke emphatically nods makes her feel better than she wants to admit.

“I don’t think I could come up with anything negative about you.”

Brooke’s eyes are sincere as she says it, and Vanessa’s heart starts to beat just a little bit faster. Vanessa’s a person who’s always on the go, not one to slow down if she doesn’t have to but Brooke has the ability to make her world pause for just a second. Brooke changes Vanessa’s focus from what’s in front of her to solely her, and Vanessa almost wishes she could keep it there forever.

It’s never that hard for Vanessa to come up with words to reply with, especially not towards Brooke, but her brain feels like it has shuddered to a stop, pressing on the brakes because the small smile on Brooke’s face is more important to focus on. She could say something stupid, something funny, maybe return the sentiment but she doesn’t get a chance to decide on what to do before Yvie lets out a scoff.

“Except for your dislike of Chicken Little. That’s a negative if I’ve ever seen one.”

The platter of chicken nuggets that Yvie places on the coffee table with a flourish is impressive, to say the least. There’s a little bowl of ketchup on the side, along with sweet and sour sauce and something that looks to be...ranch?

Whatever it is, Vanessa’s nose wrinkles at the sight. “Which one of you eats ranch with chicken nuggets? Is that legal?”

Yvie’s cackle and Brooke’s flushed cheeks tell Vanessa all she needs to know as she plops down beside Brooke on the couch, nudging her side. “Really?”

“The flavour combination is great!” Brooke mutters, grabbing a chicken nugget and dipping it in the ranch for posterity, holding it up close to Vanessa’s face. “Try it.”

Vanessa scooches herself towards the edge of the couch, away from the chicken nugget and the ranch that’s slowly dripping down like a melting ice cream. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s delicious-”

“It’s cursed-”

“More for me, then,” Brooke tosses the chicken nugget into her mouth, and Vanessa’s not sure, really, how she’s handling the flavours together without puking. “You’re missing out.”

“Very happy to miss out on that, thank you very much. I’ll take the ketchup.”

It turns out that Chicken Little isn’t so bad with Yvie and Brooke peppering in commentary as they watch, and Vanessa finds herself getting swept into the plot, as ridiculous as it is. The glass of cider that Yvie’s brought for each of them is making Vanessa feel a little more relaxed, her shoulders not as stiff anymore as she leans against the back of the couch. It’s fun to watch Brooke’s face, really, and the way she lights up while quoting the movie as it plays.

Vanessa makes a mental note to invite Brooke over to watch more movies. Better movies. Expand her palate. Chicken Little cannot be at the top of Brooke’s movie pyramid, not when there are better choices available, like Pretty Woman. Sure, Vanessa’s not exactly a film connoisseur herself, but still. Anything beats Chicken Little, right?

Maybe it’s just the cider settling in, maybe it’s the full stomach of chicken nuggets, but...it’s nice. Comfortable. Vanessa pulls her feet up behind her on the couch before grabbing a throw pillow to hug on her lap, and really, she could fall asleep right where she’s sitting, even to the dulcet tones of the main chicken character screaming about an alien invasion. Brooke looks over as Vanessa settles herself more into the couch, her expression unreadable but then she reaches over the back of the couch, grabbing the throw blanket behind them.

“Wanna share? It’s kinda cold.”

It’s not cold and Vanessa knows it, she knows that Brooke does too, but Brooke’s face is soft and tentative and adorable and sharing a blanket with her would make the couch situation even more cozy.

Plus, she can cuddle with Brooke, because Brooke is tall and thus is a tall, comfortable cushion to lean against.

Brooke throws the blanket across both of them and Vanessa scoots closer to her so that their laps are covered, the fabric fuzzy and warm. The side of Vanessa’s upper thigh leans against Brooke’s and she’s not sure why she’s so hyper aware of the fact, or why Brooke’s arm across the back of the couch makes her want to snuggle in even closer.

It’s just Brooke, after all. Brooke, who’s seen her when she’s all sweaty and about to collapse on the gym floor. Brooke, who had been there at her worst after the last tournament and still wants to coach her and spend time with her. Brooke, whose secret love for Twilight will never fail to make Vanessa laugh.

If it’s just Brooke, then why is Vanessa’s heart taking flight in her chest when Brooke starts to absentmindedly trace patterns on her palm? She doesn’t know why Brooke’s touch is lighting up a pattern of sparks on her skin either, or why Brooke’s side is so comfortable to lean against. Why Vanessa almost wishes that the movie could go on forever, so that she can stay warm and safe under Brooke’s arm that’s now draped across her shoulders.

Maybe Vanessa doesn’t need answers for all of those questions, not yet, not if finding out the answers would mean disrupting the delicate balance that hangs in the air between them. Brooke shuffles a little bit and when Vanessa’s head ends up against her chest, she can feel the way Brooke’s heart is beating, surely faster than any heart should. It’s a contrast from how seemingly relaxed the rest of Brooke’s body is, how her arms around Vanessa aren’t tense, restricting, but rather grounding, pulling her down.

Leaning back against Brooke is warm, familiar. It’s a feeling of home in a situation so novel, so different from how they usually are, like pulling on a sweater that Vanessa’s not sure how she’s ever lived without. Maybe, just maybe, Vanessa doesn’t ever have to take it off.

Vanessa doesn’t realize that the credits start rolling on the screen until Yvie rolls off of the lilac armchair, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. She lets out a yawn, stretching her arms up high before shutting off the TV. “I, for one, am exhausted. And as fun as this was, it’s my bedtime.”

Brooke snickers, and Vanessa can feel the way her chest reverberates underneath her. “You and I both know you’re about to go Facetime Scarlet.”

“That’s what bedtime means,” Yvie wiggles her eyebrows, and Brooke’s noise of disgust is immediate.

“Horrifying. You two better keep it down this time. My ears still haven’t recovered from overhearing you both last week,” Brooke shudders as Yvie cackles, shutting the door to her bedroom with a click.

Vanessa turns in Brooke’s grip, shooting a questioning look. Surely Yvie can’t be louder than the average person on Facetime. “Overhearing what?”

Brooke makes a face, the haunted look in her eyes almost comedic from the way that she sighs. “Let me put it this way. Yvie and her girlfriend are in a long distance relationship, which is hard on them for a multitude of reasons. One of them being their libidos.”

“Their libidos…” Vanessa trails off, her face falling when she realizes what Brooke means. “Oh no. Not that. Tell me not that.”

“Exactly that. They’re quieter over Facetime than they are when Scarlet visits, at least. That’s a blessing.”

Vanessa shudders. Sure, she’s not exactly quiet in bed either, but the thought of people on the other side of the wall being able to hear everything is horrifying, especially because of the fact that she lives with Alexis. Her sister does not need to know details about her sex life, that’s for sure.

Still, Vanessa wonders how loud Yvie must be. “How do they even make so much noise with phone sex, anyway? Yodel?”

“Mating calls that would fit in perfectly in a National Geographic documentary,” Brooke lets out a snicker, her hand clapping over her mouth when Yvie lets out an ‘I heard that!’ from behind her bedroom door. “Still, glad I’m not about to suffer through overhearing it alone. You’ve saved my evening.”

Vanessa snorts, pulling back from Brooke’s embrace to face her, leaning against the back of the couch. “Glad to be of service.”

Brooke is softness and kindness and contentment all at once, and the easy smile on her face is one that Vanessa feels so lucky to see the longer and longer that she knows her. It’s moments like these that Vanessa wants to hold on to forever - when Brooke’s guard is down, when her posture is relaxed and she’s looking over with eyes that Vanessa could drown in. She wants to package up this version of Brooke that isn’t tethered by reminders of her past, or with upholding a legacy that defines her whether she likes it or not. At times like this, Brooke isn’t a boxer with her father’s last name, or Vanessa’s coach responsible for facilitating her success. She’s just Brooke, a girl whose gaze is so mesmerizing that makes Vanessa’s breathing hitch in her throat without even realizing it.

Brooke holds out a hand and it’s almost second nature for Vanessa to link her fingers with hers, their hands fitting together in a way that doesn’t make sense, not when Vanessa’s hands are so much smaller. But Brooke’s grip is an anchor that keeps her from floating away, one that centers her and lets her focus on the upward curve of Brooke’s lips, the softness of her eyes when she smiles.

Except then Brooke’s brow is furrowing, a hint of concern in her eyes that Vanessa wants to brush away for her. “You okay? You’re quieter than usual.”

Vanessa can feel her face heating up as she stutters, pulling her eyes away from Brooke’s face to focus on the stitching along the couch cushions. “I’m fine. I...nothing.”

She can’t exactly go out and tell Brooke, someone who’s a coach and also a friend for that matter, that she’s just a little bit mesmerized by her face. Not something that’s likely to go over well.

Vanessa’s past relationships have been nothing short of peacocking, making herself known to those she’s had an interest in because they’d inevitably chase her right back. She knows her worth, knows how to go after what she wants, but…

What does she even want, now?

She doesn’t want Brooke, she can’t, not when Brooke is her coach and someone who’s becoming more and more important towards every aspect of her life, someone who she texts when she wakes up in the morning and who she’s messaging as she’s falling asleep.

Brooke’s not the type of person that Vanessa can parade around and go on a few dates with while drinking the cheapest wine on the menu for shits and giggles. She’s not someone that Vanessa can let go of easily, the way she’s had to with previous relationships that didn’t work out. Brooke is different from them.

She’s not disposable, not someone that Vanessa wants to let go of from her life. She isn’t someone that Vanessa can let go of at this point, because the thought of not seeing her amused expressions in the gym or the pride on her face while they’re training is too much to deal with. Vanessa’s only beginning to read through Brooke’s pages to learn more about her, and finding out little details that make her want to melt and pull Brooke just a little closer to her heart.

Brooke is too important.

Sure, Vanessa’s breath hitches in her chest whenever Brooke pulls her closer, and maybe Brooke’s smile is enough to drown out any background noise buzzing around them, but Vanessa also knows that she falls hard. And fast. She’s impulsive, following what her heart tells her to do and most of the time, she can deal with the consequences because she knows she’ll be able to get back up again.

But if this is a miscalculation? If saying something means that they’ll end up in pieces that neither of them will be able to put back together?

It’s too big of a risk. At least, for now.

Vanessa can’t be the one to take the jump off the cliff, not yet.

So she smiles, puts on the most reassuring expression that she can, hoping that it’s enough to soothe the concern that splays itself across Brooke’s features. “Really, I am. Just thinking about all the press shenanigans that Detox has lined up for me tomorrow.”

It’s enough for Brooke’s features to relax just a little bit, the smile on her face almost nostalgic. “I’m glad it’s you now, and not me, on Detox’s receiving end. She’s ruthless in the best way.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Vanessa’s chest by going for the cop out, but...she has no other choice. It’s not the way she normally handles situations like this, a fact made clear by how much she has to push down the butterflies in her stomach, and hide them behind a door so that they don’t escape and ruin stakes that feel too high, too much of a risk.

Still, Vanessa’s a bit of a sucker for punishment, and so when Brooke pulls her closer into a hug, it’s as easy as breathing to snuggle into her and rest her head against her chest, because Brooke’s arms are warm and safe and manage to slow her thinking down just a bit.

Part of Vanessa feels like she can handle it and hold herself back from doing anything stupid, if only to not mess everything up. She can be this close to Brooke and not have her chest split in two and maybe it’s a blessing, and something that she has to hold on to. Except that by leaning against Brooke, she can feel how fast Brooke’s heart is beating, threatening to escape from her chest before she can possibly stop it. It’s a contrast from the gentle way that Brooke’s fingers run through her hair, betraying the calmness on the outside that she’s trying so hard to convey.

Maybe Vanessa’s not the only one holding back. Maybe Brooke also feels it, maybe she’s also teetering on the bridge that Vanessa’s trying her best not to lose her footing on, and the thought gives Vanessa pause for a second, because maybe the risk is one they can manage, something they can work with...

No. No.

They can’t.

Not if it would lead to everything falling to pieces around them, not if it would mean no more training and no more Brooke in general. Because that’s how relationships always seem to end, don’t they?

As much as Vanessa has always wanted the romantic movie ending and a kiss in the rain, it hasn’t happened to her yet, much to her teenage self’s disappointment. There’s too much on the line to see if Brooke will be the one to veer her onto a different path and change the outcome.

So, Vanessa has to be happy with what she’s getting now, this friendship with Brooke and the coaching and accept it for all that it’s worth. Because Brooke’s important, maybe the most important person in Vanessa’s life and she has to take what she gets.

She’s lucky enough to have it in the first place, after all.

[doorbloggr]

Saturday 1/5/21 - The Chad Absurd Confidence; NSP

With the spread of mass media, there's always someone to compare yourself to, and for most of us, that means a daily battle with I'm not good enough, there's so many people so much more talented, better looking, and charismatic than me.

I have struggled with this mentality for the longest time too, and like many others, I tried to cushion the blow by falling back on self depreciating humour. Haha I'm so pathetic. My drawings are so awful lol. Oh my god I'm so cringe, you guys must think my taste in anime is so degenerate.

But recently, I came across a meme on Twitter that has prompted a desire for change in myself.

Knowing you're not godlike but saying it anyway

Part of the draw of The Chad Absurd Self-Confidence Humour is that when you start using it, you know that you're not being serious about it. If I was to say "My last D&D session art is fucking godlike, put this shit in the Louvre next to Mona Lisa, Hirohiko Araki wishes he had my skills", of course I'm not being serious.

None of that is even close to the truth, but if I start saying good things about my creations, I've planted the seed in my mind that some of it might be true. And if other people have negative opinions on me, I've got to counter their arguments with unparalleled confidence that I'm better.

Ross "RubberNinja" O'Donovan's reply to the haters

I haven't taken up this attitude yet, because I have little to no practice with it. To use art as an example again, to improve, you can't just practice in a vacuum, its best to observe other's work and incorporate various techniques to strengthen your own skills.

But where would you look to practise putting yourself on a pedestal of Olympian heights ?

Ultimate Power Fantasy: Danny Sexbang

'Operation "I rule" is a total success!' - Unicorn Wizard, Ninja Sex Party

Ninja Sex Party (NSP) is a comedy rock/synth band by comedy duo Leigh Daniel Avidan and Brian Wecht who play the role of absurdly charismatic characters Danny Sexbang and Ninja Brian respectively. As the band's name implies, a lot of their music tells comedic tales of adult nature, often how godly Danny's sexual prowess is.

But Danny Sexbang is never framed as a perfect untouchable sex god, nor is he framed as a pathetic compulsive liar, there is an interesting middle-ground that perfectly encapsulates the absurdist confidence I discussed above.

"It's not just masturbation its an orgy for one, It's a fuckin' celebration it's an orgy for one" - Orgy for One, Ninja Sex Party

The song that prompted me to write this blogpost is Unicorn Wizard, a what-if story about the already amazing Danny becoming a literal super hero wizard. This type of power fantasy song is common among their music, and Dan is portrayed as someone who is definitely not as fantastic as he says, but his confidence surrounds him like a forcefield.

'I think I just dreamed it...' 'How was it? Amazing?' 'Eugh!' 'You mean Eugh-stounding? Yeah you do' - Unicorn Wizard, Ninja Sex Party

Instead of getting down-trodden when confronted with negativity, Ninja Sex Party teaches us to strike back with an unbridled level of confidence. This song isn't the only one we can learn from however.

A good halfway for people who struggle to not belittle themselves, is owning their weaknesses but with passion and confidence. Three Minutes of Ecstasy presents Danny boasting how he can last for three minutes in the bedroom and you should be very thankful for that.

'For one hundred and eighty seconds, The sex will blow your mind' - Three Minutes of Ecstasy, Ninja Sex Party

His lacklustre sexual abilities are played for laughs but its never pointing and laughing at Danny. He is owning that, 3 minutes of ecstasy, several nights a month, is actually for his lover's benefit. It would be dangerous to go any longer or harder because the sex is just that good. Even one's own mediocre abilities can be framed as impressive if you say it the right way.

Cool Patrol, Ninja Sex Party

And then Cool Patrol is a song about believing in yourself and celebrating how amazing you are. Of course in typical NSP fashion, we are shown that the aforementioned 'Cool Patrol' is not hard ass, heavy and hyper masculine, the Cool Patrol does silly dances, makes funny noises, covers themselves in lunch foods and are generally embarrassing. Sure you high-schoolers have leather biker clothes and sunglasses, but I can rub my thighs together and set fire to Mars!

'Now harness all your sexy fury in a victory stance, This is the Cool Patrol Dance' - Cool Patrol, Ninja Sex Party

But that's ok, confidence is not something given to yourself by others, it has to come from a belief in yourself. What you think is cool is going to be different from other people. Some people think that expensive cars, rap music, and snapbacks are cool. I think watching Vtubers, Monster Hunter, Dungeons and Dragons, and Caramelldansen is cool.

In order for me to truly enjoy myself as person, its not a case of blocking out mine and other's negative opinions of myself, it is accepting that those thoughts exist and providing absurd arguments in the other direction. Because if your response to those negative thoughts are not serious in the slightest, then those negative thoughts too won't be taken seriously.

And maybe eventually you'll come to believe you are truly in fact god-like.

Here's a playlist of confidence boosting Ninja Sex Party Music. Love yourself everyone.

[gukyi]

for you, anything | ksj

summary: in the popular online multiplayer game, kingdom, you are the top-ranked knight with money, fame, and power. in real life, you’re a graphic design geek who’s got a very unsubtle crush on her gorgeous coworker, kim seokjin. but when you’re suddenly dethroned from the first place spot in your game, you and your kingdom character embark on a journey to reclaim your title, and learn on the way that things are not always as they seem. 

{friends to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, fantasy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol mention, brief and non-graphic descriptions of violence, this is basically two fics in one so you get double the fun and double the word count!! a/n: once again, a massive, massive thank you to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me!! you can find her on twitter as well under @btspresso_!! she’s the genius behind this enemies to lovers and friends to lovers seokjin fic wrapped up into a nice package just in time for the holidays!! you ever seen a fic with e2l and f2l together? that’s right, i didn’t think so. enjoy!!!

check out the post-script drabble here!

♚ HERE ♚

“Oh, shit!”

From twelve feet away comes the sound of these three things in this order: fingers furiously mashing keyboard keys, wheels of an office chair swiveling angrily on the linoleum floor, and a war cry. All of which could either belong to a video game world championships in a big-city stadium or your simple, office of two-floors in a more-than-one-hundred-stories skyscraper based in graphic design and media for small start-up companies. 

“I can’t tell if Photoshop crashed again or if you’re playing that weird online multiplayer game again,” Yoongi grumbles from across the way, where he’s gnawing on a Clif bar in one hand as he mindlessly taps his mouse with the other. 

“Please,” Jimin says, carelessly waving a hand. “Don’t act like I haven’t caught you watching My Hero Academia multiple times this year while we were supposed to be doing work, you absolute piece of toast. But if you must know, I was in fact playing Kingdom.”

“I’m going to tell Namjoon,” Yoongi says with zero emphasis, because everybody knows that Namjoon’s got dirt on everybody in the office anyway (including Yoongi) and that if you try to expose somebody else to him, he’ll expose you back. It’s colleague culture. 

“And what’s Namjoon gonna do? He already knows you carry a flash drive of illegally-downloaded animes with you wherever you go,” Jimin retorts casually. He’s not wrong, and you can confirm that Yoongi indeed carts around a USB drive in the shape of a pineapple that has 64GB of anime. 

“What do I know?”

Namjoon comes trotting into view from the corridor that leads to the gender-neutral bathrooms with glasses hanging from the collar of his sweater vest, a clipboard with nothing attached to it in his right hand, and a steaming cup of jasmine tea (he hates coffee and declares this publicly at least three times a day) in his left. 

“You know that Yoongi—”

“Has been doing his work the whole time you were in the bathroom so you don’t need to worry about him,” Yoongi interrupts quickly. 

Namjoon shoots both Jimin and Yoongi a suspicious glare, but moves on. He’s got enough blackmail on the both of them to bury them into the next calendar year, but he’s wise, and he only uses it when absolutely necessary. “Just doing checkups on you guys before Boss Man calls me back into his office and gives me a pile of over one hundred hours of work I’m supposed to do in a forty-hour work week.” It’s been obvious from the moment you were hired that Namjoon does the most work out of anybody in this office, including your boss, and gets very, very little from it. 

“You don’t even have any paper attached to your clipboard,” Taehyung points out rather unhelpfully, from where he’s been drawing hearts on the cheeks of the Surprised Pikachu meme he’s taped up on the wall his desk is pushed up against. 

Namjoon looks down at his clipboard like it just spit mad fire at him, furrows his brows, and lets out a sigh equivalent to three years worth of pent-up aggression. “Shit.”

Jimin cackles from his computer. 

“Whatever, I’m still going to do checkups.” Namjoon takes the pen from behind his ear and writes himself a note, presumably to get paper for his clipboard later. “Jimin, you’re still working on that website layout for the art critic and photographer. Yoongi’s on coding for that search engine that we all know is never taking off but is still paying us. Taehyung’s on marketing because he’s got the most charming voice and Hoseok and Jungkook are on media production for the indie movie company. Y/N and Seokjin, you guys are on clientele and coding. Everybody good before I go get more paper?”

“Yes, Tiny but Large Boss Man,” Jimin says, and it’s enough of a confirmation to send Namjoon scurrying down the corridor again in search of paper as everyone else returns to their prior business. 

“Y/N?”

You turn around from the font website you’ve been browsing for about half an hour to find Seokjin standing behind you, an earpiece in his ear and that charming smile on his face. It’s the same smile he gave you on your first day on the job when he was introducing himself, same smile he gives when he meets clients in person, same smile he gives Namjoon whenever the man is about to have a breakdown. It’s a friendly, personable-but-universal kind of smile. The kind models need. The kind that Seokjin has mastered. 

“Hey, Seokjin,” you say, only just then coming to realize that Seokjin is much closer to you than his voice originally implied. You’ve rotated 180 degrees in your office chair and he is hardly a foot away from where your feet are. It’s a lot. Seokjin is always a lot. In the best sort of way. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, just wanted to check in and see how the project was going for that one guy that wanted a nice advertisement to put on Angie’s List,” Seokjin says, leaning down to look at what you’ve been doing. 

“Oh, well I’ve been browsing this font website for ages and I still can’t find a nice one for the sub-heading. All of these are too flashy or difficult to read,” you say, beginning to scroll as you and Seokjin both look for one that you like. 

“Hmm, I see what you mean,” his voice sounds like honey and if you had any less dignity you’d let the chills send shivers down your spine. Luckily, you know how to maintain your composure in an office setting. And you also know that Yoongi and Jungkook would never let you hear the end of it, ever. “Oh, how about that one?”

“This one? Rose Quartz?” You ask, pointing to it. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “It has a nice flair that matches with the font for the business name, but it’s still easy to read. It would probably look really nice with a crisp shadow behind it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re onto something,” you say, clicking to read the fair use and copyright. 

“Couldn’t have done it without all the hard work you’ve put into this,” Seokjin says, standing up and shooting you another one of his famous smiles. “You’re the best partner anybody in this tiny media production and design company could ask for.”

He leaves without bidding you farewell, but it’s enough to have you staring blankly at your computer, contemplating existence itself. Sometimes, a little part of you wonders if Seokjin only treats you like this and none of your other coworkers, but then you immediately remember that Seokjin is naturally charming and that he probably speaks to newborn babies in the same way.

Yoongi wheels over to your desk from where his is, smirk lacing his features as he chews on another, different-colored Clif bar. 

“Ever heard of a personal bubble?” You ask snarkily, because you already know why he’s over here, and so does he.

“Why aren’t you asking the same question to Seokjin, hmm?” Yoongi taunts. He’s know about your dumb crush on your coworker (of all people, your coworker! A fellow employee!) for months now. He isn’t being any more helpful whatsoever. 

“Go watch your pirated anime,” you grunt out, too overwhelmed with the way Seokjin smiles at you to really give Yoongi your full attention. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Sure, but I’m not Seokjin,” Yoongi says. Then he wheels away and you’re left staring at the Rose Quartz font, whose sample text reads: This was meant to be. 

At least Namjoon doesn’t know.

It’s midnight on a Tuesday, and you’re just about to turn off the lamp on your bedside table and get some well deserved weekday-night shut eye when your phone begins to blare, a disgustingly ugly picture of Jungkook’s face appearing on the screen.

You stare at your phone like it’s personally offending you (which, if Jungkook’s face is anything to go by, it definitely is) before you turn off your ringer and close your eyes. Jungkook can wait. Very seldom is he at the top of your list of priorities.

Barely five seconds after you’ve put your head on your pillow, your phone begins to vibrate, this time even angrier than the last. Aggravated and a little concerned—because Jungkook never, ever calls twice—you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Something crazy just happened!”

“I hope so, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me at midnight on a work night,” you grumble into the phone, monotonous voice a stark contrast to Jungkook’s easily excitable one.

“Have you been on Kingdom recently?!” Jungkook asks, and you practically see his eyes bulging out of his head in front of you. One of your youngest coworkers, it’s moments like these that remind you why he bears a striking resemblance to a university student—up late playing video games even on a work night—despite having a couple years in the workforce under his belt. He keeps telling you that he wants to go back to school and get a Masters in something, but he isn’t sure what yet. 

“No,” you tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. You typically begin to wind down your night around ten, which means that anything that’s happened on Kingdom in the past two hours you are thoroughly unaware of. “Can’t this wait? Kingdom’s fun and all, but I really do need to sleep.”

“But Y/N,” Jungkook says with a whine, insisting that you stay on the line, “someone beat you! You’re rank two, now.”

If Jungkook’s loud voice and jumpy attitude didn’t wake you before, you’re certainly wide awake now.

“What?” You ask, shocked. “Just now?”

“Yeah, like fifteen minutes ago! I don’t know what happened,” Jungkook says sadly, lost. “I was dueling with another knight when the horns and banners appeared on the screen and said there was a new top player. You’ve been dethroned!” He cries out like it’s him who’s lost their place. 

You’re fumbling out of bed, making a beeline for your desktop computer across your bedroom. Normally, you’d be ashamed about how high-school you’re behaving around a video game, but you’ve invested an embarrassing amount of time and energy into Kingdom, and you’ll be damned if you think someone else can outdo you. 

As you’re logging onto the game, Jungkook continues to wail into the phone. “I don’t even know who this person is, I feel like I’ve never seen them before! I mean, they must be really good since they practically appeared out of nowhere, but still! I’m a decent player so we must have crossed paths. Maybe I just don’t remember…”

Sure enough, the moment you open your screen the horns blare and the banners appear, congratulating a different player on achieving the top rank. You watch helplessly as the celebration fades on your computer before the leaderboard appears in the top left corner, your name a sad second place. 

“Who’s JK0901?” You shout into the phone, earning an exasperated sigh from Jungkook on the other end. You scowl at the name that’s knocked you off your pedestal, before narrowing your eyes to look at it more closely. “JK? Is that you, Jungkook? Are you just calling me to make fun of me for beating me? Don’t disrespect your elders, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gasps like he’s been accused of murder. For people that take Kingdom as seriously as you and Jungkook, it may as well be. “No! What the heck, Y/N, you know that my username is KookieMonster97, for God’s sake. Accusing me of being the best, how could you?”

“You should have just taken the compliment,” you frown into the phone, “Now all the girls are gonna know you aren’t, in fact, the number one Kingdom player.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Jungkook mutters. “But it’s not me, I swear. You would have received a very different phone call from me if it was. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have even told you and then ruined your day in the office tomorrow. So it’s not me.”

“I can’t tell if I’d be more or less angry if it was you,” you admit.

“Why, because I’d finally have something to hold over your head other than my unwavering youth?” Jungkook taunts. Definitely still a university student at heart. 

“No, because it means I’d have to hear the entire office praise you for a day, and I’d rather permanently pop my eardrums,” you tell him informatively. Jungkook has enough of a head. You actively try to not do anything to enlarge it unless he wholeheartedly deserves it. 

“I love our coworker chats, you know,” Jungkook says. “Whoever this person is though, I bet they’re receiving bucketloads of praise for knocking you off the top spot. You’ve had it for like, three months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you tell him through gritted teeth. “I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this game and look how it’s repaying me,” you grumble, staring down the Kingdom home screen. 

“JK0901 probably did a ritual sacrifice to beat you,” Jungkook supplies unhelpfully. 

You sigh. Whoever they are, they proved that they are just as good at Kingdom as you are, a veteran player with an embarrassing several years of experience under your belt. In fact, they proved that they’re better than you. 

♚ THERE ♚

It’s cloudy today, which means that more of the market stalls are out on the main street. You pass by them on your way to the castle, vendors calling out to you with promises of apples, jewelry, and perfumes. 

You’ve got money to burn and your responsibilities can wait a couple of minutes, so you indulge one of the stalls and purchase a couple of apples. One should give you a bit of energy now, and the rest can be roasted later for a better meal. 

“Miss Y/N, off to the palace?” The vendor asks. From how much you frequent this part of the kingdom, every artisan, farmer, and merchant alike knows your name. That, and the fact that you’ve amassed quite a group of followers from your daily knightly escapades. 

“Of course,” you respond happily, paying the merchant with a couple of silver coins and then some, just as a thanks. The extra money helps the farmers raise the quality of their crops and allows them to earn more for their efforts. It also boosts your standing amongst the townsfolk. “His Majesty requested my presence for further instructions on fortification, most likely. But I’m just honored to be recognized.”

“As you should!” The man responds dutifully. “You are our best knight, after all.”

“Please, you flatter me. When the work day is done, go home and feed your children well, alright?” You ask, giving a firm nod to the merchant before you’re on your way. As you stroll down the stone-paved path, other vendors call out to you, hoping that you, too, will indulge in their finest clothes and trinkets on your way to the castle. 

Maybe another day. 

You take a hearty bite of the apple as you head towards the palace, a satisfying crunch ringing through your ears as the townsfolk nod and bow to you. It’s easy to figure out that you’re the top-ranked knight in the kingdom, with badges of honor pinned to your torso, ink black armor clinging tightly to your body, and red sashes tied around the black ones on your wrist, signifying approval from the highest ranking military official in the kingdom: the king himself. 

The guards at the palace gates step aside as you nod to each other, bowing courteously. You repeat this process several more times as you slowly proceed towards the throne room, where the King (and maybe the Queen) are likely to be waiting for you. They had increased their security at every door frame after an attempted assassination several months ago, which you (with the help of other high-ranking knights and castle officials) discovered was a plot orchestrated by Their Majesty’s second-most-trusted advisor. 

Finally, you reach the golden arches that signify that you’ve arrived at the most expensive room in the entire palace (save for Her Majesty’s bathroom, which, though you have never been inside, is rumored to have a golden bathtub and sacred water from the River Blancheur, over two thousand miles away. But you cannot confirm nor deny.), threatening red doors slowly creaking open as the King and Queen come into view. 

They’re sitting on their thrones, as per usual, but they aren’t the only ones in the room like they normally are. Instead, there’s another knight, as equally decked out as you, standing before them, arms crossed behind their back. 

“We hope that you can wear these honors proudly and do your duties with pride,” the King says regally, deep, thick voice echoing throughout the room. 

“I will stop at nothing to ensure this kingdom’s greatness,” the knight says back, just as formal. The knight gives a long bow, red sashes around their wrist dangling towards the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were being replaced. But of course, that’s not the case. 

“Oh, Y/N,” the Queen says happily, noticing your waiting right in front of the closed doors to the throne room. “Prudent, as always.”

“I aspire to please,” you say with a bow. The King gives you a warm smile, one you’re willing to bet that this other knight isn’t often on the receiving end of. 

“Your timing is impeccable,” the King says, ushering for you to come forward. You do so, taking calculated steps along the red carpet, woven nearly two centuries ago and maintained ever since. “We were just congratulating Sir JK on his recent accomplishments in the Black Forest.”

“Of course,” you say with a nod, refusing to turn to your left so you can stare down this Sir JK for yourself. “The military made groundbreaking strides for our kingdom there.”

“You are the first person to know this, other than him, of course, but we’ve decided to appoint him as the Head of the Royal Knights of the Kingdom of Kalar,” the King says proudly. 

It takes everything in your willpower not to let your mouth drop open. You blink rapidly, making sure that you aren’t in a daze nor still asleep. Sure enough, you’re wide awake and your ears and eyes seem to be working perfectly. The knight next to you is taking over the highest position a knight can hold in your kingdom, one that even you haven’t been given. 

You’ve been replaced. 

“What an incredible honor,” you say, body stiff. You can practically feel the ego of the knight next to you radiating off of him. It makes your nerves twitch. 

“I think so as well,” the King says proudly. He has, luckily, not picked up on your sudden mood change. “So, I’ve called you here to appoint you as his second-in-command.”

You bow graciously at his words, ensuring that, despite your bitter attitude, you are still thankful for this opportunity. Mostly. You are mostly thankful for this opportunity. 

“I’m honored and grateful, Your Majesties,” you say, head facing the carpet. “I would rather die than let down my kingdom.”

“You two are to work together closely,” the Queen advises, words that make your ears bleed. Oh, wonderful, now you have to work hand-in-hand with the person that stole your favor with the royal household right from underneath your feet? You can think of nothing more enjoyable. “Your cooperation alone will ensure the utmost safety and security of this kingdom.”

“We shall do better than our best,” the knight beside you says. His words make your eyes roll back into your head, but you’ve been a bigger brownnoser in your past. You can forgive that, even if the man next to you radiates an energy you’d rather not surround yourself with. 

“I’m pleased to hear it. Your training and work together begins now, so do not hesitate to get to know each other.”

You and him take one baited breath each before turning to each other. You both bow out of obligatory respect, which satisfies the King and Queen well enough. And as you come up, you catch a glimpse of each other’s eyes. His are dark, rounded pupils. They’re hiding something. 

You’re determined to figure out what it is. 

“Call me J,” the knight says the moment you’ve stepped foot outside of the palace. The setting sun shines dimly on the main road, and many of the vendors are beginning to pack up their belongings in order to head home. 

“Okay, J,” you say suspiciously. Everything about him unsettles you slightly. Perhaps it’s the fact that behind the armor and the mask and the badges, he’s extremely good-looking. Or maybe it’s the fact that he swiped the top-ranking knight position right from your fingertips. It must be that. “It’s baffling to me that we haven’t met yet. If you’ve been in such high favor with the King and Queen, then I must have seen you somewhere.” You wonder if he can hear the bitterness lacing your features. You sure hope that he can. 

“I guess our paths just never crossed,” J says, taking a bite out of a peach he just purchased from a farmer’s daughter, who was watching over the stall as her father haggled with another vendor. You watched as he winked to the girl as she gave him two peaches for the price of one. “I’m more on the ground than you are, am I not? You spend much of your time strategizing in the castle.”

“You don’t know what I do,” you huff out. He finishes the peach and wraps up the pip in a piece of cloth from his pocket before tucking it away. There is no place to dispose of it on the main street anyway. 

“Don’t I?” J says with a sly grin, one that makes you want to kick him in the shin and push him into the grass. “Everyone knows what you do, Y/N. You were the King and Queen’s favorite.”

The way he uses the past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“But, as it seems, being on the battlefield outweighs directing it from above,” J says. He keeps his eyes off of you and his head held high while your gaze focuses in on him out of pure fury, just another way to hold his newfound superiority over your head. Five minutes next to him and he already seems to know how to push every single one of your buttons. 

“So it seems,” you say bitterly. 

“You and I really must get along, Y/N,” J says casually as you begin to stray from the hustle of the main street. Neither of you seem to have a particularly clear destination in mind, only a path that must be taken for the sake of the greater good. It’s only the prospect that if you do well enough, you’ll impress the King and Queen and regain your favor with them that’s keeping you from socking J in the face and dashing off, taking his second peach with you. “We’ll be spending lots of time together.”

“Doesn’t that sound like the bee’s knees,” you mutter to yourself. For the greater good. 

“Should it not?” J asks innocently. It makes you want to wipe that smirk right off of his face, that knowing tone in his voice. “I certainly don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. Do you happen to have one with me?”

He asks it because he knows that whatever you say will incriminate you. He knows that if you say no, you’re a goddamn liar, and that if you say yes, you’re weak. Weak because you’re admitting that you can’t handle spending time with him even though you have to. Weak because you’re showing him that he has power over you. 

“No, of course not,” you say, plastering the fakest smile on your face. Two can play at this game. “In fact, would it be alright if I had that other peach? I’m absolutely starving.” You can be civil. If he can, at least.

“Sure thing,” J says, unwrapping the peach from the woven napkin the farmer’s daughter gave him.

You reach out to take it from him, but in the blink of an eye his hand dangles it over your head, too far out of reach for you to grab without losing all of your dignity in the process. 

“What do we say, Y/N?” He asks sweetly, like a parent disciplining their child. God, everything he does absolutely aggravates you. 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. Perhaps you aren’t on the front lines as often as he is, but you sure know how to fight. Maybe now is a good time to remind him that you received the same training he did. 

“Please?” You ask, just as saccharine. 

“As you request, Y/N,” J says with a bow, finally handing it over. 

If this is what the next several months have in store for you, you wonder if maybe sinking down to a lower ranking might be worth it after all, especially if it means you’ll never have to see him and his bouncy hair and dark eyes again. 

You take a bite into the peach. It’s sour. 

Just your luck. 

♚ HERE ♚

When you walk into work the next day, a hush falls over the room. 

It’s not even as if the entire office has been quiet so far this workday, not as if the clock struck nine o’clock and everyone decided to start a competition to see who could shut up for the longest amount of time. 

(For the record, if anyone were to win that competition, it would be Yoongi, who usually only speaks either 1) when spoken to or 2) to let someone know when they’re being dumb via insult. The first person to lose would be Namjoon, because his job description is to boss people around. And he’s awfully good at it.)

The elevator door dinged on the twenty-third floor and you could hear Hoseok’s loud gasps and Jungkook’s cackled laugh even through the glass door that separates your office from the rest of the companies that take up residence in this particular city skyscraper. And then, as your loafers tapped on the hard linoleum floor and the glass door creaked open, the entire office fell silent. 

Quickly, you wonder if you’ve forgotten someone's birthday or if anybody’s due for a celebration of some sort. But nobody’s come to mind and the lights aren’t off, which means that this isn’t the kind of sudden silence that precedes a surprise party. 

This is the kind of sudden silence that makes everybody go, “Oh shit.”

It feels like you’re walking on eggshells as you make your way over to your desk. You’re a couple minutes late due to oversleeping (for reasons that start with J and end with -ungkook) so everybody’s already here, and the office should be as boisterous and rowdy as always. And yet, something’s different. 

You’re left entirely in the dark in concern with what the reasoning is, so you just decide that you’d rather not be the one to break the tense quiet that’s befallen your office and settle down, logging into your work desktop and checking today’s assignments on Slack. 

Five minutes pass and you can’t help but think that, of the many, many days you’ve spent in this office with these people, this has got to be the most awkward by an overwhelmingly long shot. Not even the time Namjoon showed up with his hair dyed purple and traces of a sharpie drawing with a certain phallic design on his cheek was more awkward than this. 

It seems that even Namjoon’s picked up on the vibe of your workspace today, walking in and out without a word. He wheels in a portable whiteboard from one of your meeting rooms and writes down everybody’s assignments on the board in his handwriting, which makes his O’s look like D’s. 

Ten minutes in and this is the quietest your office has ever been in the history of mankind, probably. You’re almost convinced that genuinely no one will speak to each other until five o’clock, when Jimin’s end-of-work alarm goes off and you all pack up and go home, and that today’s workday is an exercise in meditation and peace, two things that are seldom available in your usual office environment. 

And then, out of nowhere, 

“Oh my God, I can’t take it anymore,” Hoseok says loudly, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize he had been holding. It’s highly unlikely that Hoseok spent the past ten minutes holding his breath because he wasn’t allowed to talk under your office’s societal norm of silence, but you honestly can’t put it past him. Speaking is essentially the equivalent of breathing to him. “I’ve been wanting to bother Jimin for not responding to my email from yesterday for the past five minutes. I don’t even know why we’re doing this, it’s clear that Y/N doesn’t care at all about what happened.”

“What don’t I care about?” You blurt out, equally as curious as everyone else also seems to release their baited breaths. 

Hoseok and Jimin immediately begin to argue about appropriate email-response time between coworkers and Yoongi rolls a couple of feet over from his own desk to enlighten you. 

“Jungkook told everyone that you had been docked from your top rank in Kingdom, and the whole office seems to have taken it very seriously,” Yoongi mutters into your ear, making you scrunch up your nose in exasperation. Is he kidding? 

“That’s why everyone was so quiet? Because they didn’t want to bring it up?” 

“I guess so, but I was just quiet because it was nice to have the whole office shut up for a few minutes in the morning,” Yoongi says with a shrug before wheeling back to his own desk, where an anime you vaguely recognize as Haikyuu!! is playing on his monitor. 

Immediately, you whip around to meet eyes with Jungkook, who looks like he’s been expecting your furious glare all morning. He smiles guiltily and can offer you literally nothing other than a mouthed sorry because you two are in a workplace environment where shouting is, generally, socially unacceptable. 

Despite your standing on the game, it’s easy to argue and even easier to prove that your coworkers care much more about Kingdom than you do. The loading screen of the castle in Monet’s art style is Hoseok’s desktop background. Jungkook has a little sword decoration next to his computer, and a couple of his pens are official Kingdom merch that you’re pretty sure he purchased from Hot Topic. Taehyung and Jimin play during their lunch break, the only time in the workday where shouting is socially acceptable, and the both of them came to last year’s Halloween party dressed as knights. Even Namjoon’s in on the game, though he rarely has time to play and usually has no idea what everyone else is referencing when they talk about Kingdom. 

Contrastingly, you enjoy the game but very seldom do you actually broadcast that affection in public. You need to have at least some semblance of personal dignity in this absolute free-for-all of a place of employment. 

So really, it’s no wonder that all of your coworkers acted like it was the end of the world when you got knocked from first place. To them, that would be like having a winning lottery ticket only to drop it onto train tracks and watch as the public transportation system has a field day with it. 

“We’re really sorry, Y/N,” Taehyung says as he comes over and hands you a Tootsie Roll from the stash he keeps in one of his desk drawers for bad days. Apparently, this is a bad day. “Jungkook told us and we didn’t want to put salt in the wound.”

Even if their methodology was weird and slightly unsettling, the sentiment was there. “Thanks guys,” you tell Taehyung with a smile, “but I think you guys took it harder than I did.”

“Of course we did!” Jungkook says with a cry. He is objectively the most torn up out of the lot of you. “We had the top player in Kingdom in our very office, and now what! You were famous, Y/N! Whoever that bozo is who took your place is gonna feel the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company.”

“Who’s feeling the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company?” Seokjin asks as he strolls into the office, even later than you. To be fair, it’s looking like he’s got a box of a dozen Dunkin’ Donuts, which is enough for anyone to forgive him, even your hard headed boss. “Is it Jimin? Did he steal your Post-Its again? I saw he had a new pack.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen for barely a second before they narrow in on Jimin, who is already skirting away to find Namjoon so he can use him as a human shield. Jimin has quite the history of taking Jungkook’s office supplies only for a second and then failing to return it. 

“No, but I’m gonna deal with him later,” Jungkook says, fishing through his office supplies on the hunt for his Post-it notes, which may or may not be currently in his possession. “We were just talking about how Y/N got knocked from the top spot in Kingdom by some asshat none of us have ever heard of, and now he’s going to feel the wrath. Of us. Specifically me, but also us.”

“What wrath?” Taehyung jokes. “You’re fresh out of college. You’re practically as intimidating as a baby bunny.”

Jungkook growls just for emphasis, and it only proves Taehyung’s point more. He’s always had a baby face.  

“Well, I brought doughnuts to cheer everyone up,” Seokjin says, opening the box to reveal a dozen doughnuts of varying kinds that is likely to be finished within the next thirty seconds. 

“Oh my God, Kim Seokjin, I love you,” Hoseok says before immediately taking one and a half and bouncing off. 

“Save the pink-frosted one for me, will you? It’s my favorite,” Seokjin requests. He’s not even monitoring the box, too busy putting all his stuff away and getting settled at his desk. He’s basically asking to be robbed. 

“Aw, I wanted that one,” you joke sadly, already going for the chocolate-frosted one with rainbow sprinkles. The box is nearly three-fourths empty. Even Namjoon’s materialized out of nowhere to take the glazed one to eat while he completes the next fifty-four things on his to-do list. 

“Then let’s split it,” Seokjin says without missing a beat. Your heart does the exact opposite. 

“Jimin, you wanna split one with me?” Taehyung asks. 

“Ew, gross, no way, I want a whole one to myself,” Jimin immediately rejects. 

“I’ll go and grab it,” Seokjin says, standing up to nab the doughnut for some evil being (by the name of Jimin) takes it for himself. He plucks it from the box and takes two napkins, too, walking over to your desk as he splits the doughnut in half. 

“For you,” he says casually, like it isn’t making your heart beat out of your chest. 

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say jokingly, taking the doughnut and placing it on the napkin he hands to you. 

“Tell me about this Kingdom thing? You got knocked from first place?” Seokjin asks, making conversation as he lingers by your desk. It’s obvious that nobody’s going to be getting any work done. 

“Yeah, but it’s really nothing special. Everyone was making a huge deal out of it, which you should be very glad you missed, because the first ten minutes of this workday were absolutely silent and it was awful in every way that something can be awful,” you tell him. 

Seokjin laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. “Then I’m glad that I came late,” he says with a chuckle. “I couldn’t imagine a day where Jimin and Taehyung were silent for more than two minutes.”

“I lived through it,” you say, smiling. “Anyway, everyone seems to have gotten over the fact that I’m no longer the top-ranked Kingdom player. I’m kind of down about it myself, just because I worked really hard, but whoever it is that took over, I’m glad for them. I mean, it’s just a game.”

“That it is,” Seokjin says. “How about a toast to your Kingdom-playing skills, and to whoever it is that beat you.”

“Cheers,” you say, holding out your half of the doughnut. 

“Cheers,” Seokjin echoes. 

The two of you clink doughnuts, and they squish together awkwardly. 

“You should bring doughnuts more often,” You muse.

“If it means we don’t have to work and can just talk like this, then I will,” Seokjin says as he takes a bite, already heading back over to his own desk. He waves goodbye with a smile, and only then do you finally indulge. 

Sweet. As always. 

♚ THERE ♚

When you were moved to the Military Tactics Unit, the King and Queen pulled you out of military training in favor of you spending more time working on strategies for the Kingdom’s armies rather than sparring with fellow Knights. It was a wise move on the part of Their Royal Highnesses, who feared losing you to a rebel group or warring kingdom, and you didn’t mind not having to engage in the physicality of training with those that would be spending more time on the battlefield. 

And at the time, you saw it as a much-needed break from hand-to-hand combat training for years on end when you hadn’t set foot on the front lines in months. But now, that decision has decided to come back and bite you where it hurts. 

Because as second-in-command to the Head of the Knights, you (and J, both luckily and unluckily) are tasked with the important duty of supervising the military training of the new recruits. This spells doom in various ways, some of which include (and are not limited to):

Having to spend more time with J. 

Having to spend more time with J without letting all of the recruits know you both vastly dislike each other. 

Having to spend more time with J in a scenario in which there is constant hand-to-hand combat. 

Having to spend more time with J without being able to make up an excuse about needing to attend to urgent military business in order to leave. 

Having to spend more time with J. 

Attempting to remember how to spar.

So, in essence, you’re screwed. 

This is the mindset with which you walk into your very first training session in over six months, a few minutes late, of course. Recently you’ve been attempting to calculate the maximum amount of time you can spend either being tardy or leaving early from events that involve J without you facing any repercussions. So far it’s been working out well. 

When you walk in the door, before you can greet any of the recruits or even offer J a slightly sarcastic wave, he says, “Look who’s finally shown up,” loud enough for all of the recruits to turn to look as you stroll in tardy. 

“I got held up by a vendor on the main road, my apologies,” you lie like a liar. It’s obvious that J does not believe you whatsoever, but it satisfies the recruits, who return to their business as usual. 

“Well, you’re just in time for warm-up,” J says, false positivity radiating throughout every single word. 

You walk up to where he stands at the front of the room, wearing much less of his official armor than he normally is. Right now, he stands in front of you in a plain tan cotton shirt and training pants, similar to the rest of the recruits. It’s really quite jarring, to see him dressed so differently from what he usually wears—dark armor and scarlet red sashes. It makes him seem… almost softer. 

“Thought you might have bailed on me,” J mutters into your ear as the recruits begin to stretch. 

“Have a little more faith in me, for God’s sake,” you grumble in return. You may not like him, but you aren’t about to abandon your responsibilities just because of a little bit of distaste. 

“Do you wanna take warm-up, or should I?” He offers, motioning to the recruits. They all look so nervous, so desperate to prove themselves on the first day of training. It reminds you of yourself, like you’re looking into a mirror and a time machine all at once. 

“You’re the boss,” you say, unabashedly letting the bitterness seep through your tone. “You choose.”

Unsurprisingly, J decides to let you handle the warm-up session, something that is just a precursor to the main event and therefore, not as important. He takes a couple of steps back and follows your instructions as you go through stretches and basic movements in combat, allowing all of the recruits to get a feel for what knighthood is really like in the Kingdom of Kalar. Warm-up was always your least favorite part during training, so boring in comparison to the sparring and hand-to-hand combat that you would engage in soon after. Sure, it was necessary, but when you were a wide-eyed, overeager trainee, you were willing to risk a pulled muscle if it meant you could beat someone up sooner. 

With this in mind, you wrap up the session in a fairly timely manner, letting the recruits do their own stretching after everything absolutely necessary has been covered. It also means that you can sit back and let J do most of the heavy lifting, which, while you’re bitter about him getting all of the attention, is better than having to do it yourself based solely upon memory. You remember combat well enough to handle yourself in the battlefield, but the technicalities of training have completely slipped your memory by now. 

J and everything else about him may leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you have to admit that he’s a good teacher and an even better morale booster. This must come from his experience out in the field, on the front lines, where raising his troops’ spirits came as a necessary quality to develop when times were tough. 

He speaks slowly, explains everything in enough detail to cover all of the bases without losing attention, and frequently opens up the floor for questions. And as per usual, the recruits already begin to cling to him like vines, desperate to soak up every ounce of knowledge that he doles out. 

J doesn’t need the ego boost, that’s for certain. 

“Now that I’ve gone through everything, I believe that the best way to learn how to spar is just to start doing it, even if you haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing. Despite what you may think about me, experience is the best teacher,” he says with a smile, earning a laugh from the crowd. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Um, sir?” A timid recruit raises her hand, her body curled in on herself. You take one look at her, and know that she’ll come out of her shell soon enough. 

“Yes, a question?” J asks. 

“Would you mind giving a demonstration? Just so we can watch. So we, well, don’t injure ourselves or each other while we’re sparring.”

A demonstration? You blink, having awoken from the trance you had placed yourself in one J stepped up to take over the training session. Doesn’t a demonstration mean… well, you and him?

J seems to come to this realization at the same time that you do, and grins wildly, giddy. He knows exactly how much you’ll hate doing this, which is all the more reason to say yes. “Of course, we’d be happy to. Y/N?”

You hold in the sigh you’ve been wanting to let out for about five minutes now, taking a deep exhale as you turn to face J. You’ve been in close proximity to him before, but you are about to get a whole lot closer. 

“If you say so,” you say with a shrug, trying to keep this as lighthearted and casual as possible. Though, both of those things are likely to be tossed out the window now that you’re about to spar with your worst enemy. 

J grabs a mat from the side of the room to lay down on the floor in front of you, and the two of you step onto it. Instantly, you’re transported back to when you were still in training, bouncing up and down on your feet with your fists raised in front of you, ready to take on the next recruit. You had always been quite good at sparring, back then. 

Now is a completely different story. 

“Are you ready?” J asks as you face each other in front of a crowd of recruits, all of whom are watching you with hawk-like intensity. 

“Guess I can’t say ‘no’, can I?” You joke, though if J offers you a way out of this, you’d gladly take it, shame and dignity be damned. 

“Well then, do your worst.”

He’s an open target. You’ve never been given an opportunity to sock him in the face before now, and you’d absolutely love to take it, but this is a sparring session, not a revenge session. That can be saved for a later date. Instead, you bounce on your feet like a nervous, excitable recruit, and aim for his neck. 

He easily dodges, but you expected that, and counter his attack with your leg. It goes back and forth like this, as your muscle memory kicks in and you remember exactly what sparring was like back in your training sessions. For a few seconds in the middle of it, you genuinely think you and him are on a pretty level playing field. 

And then—

One punch gone wrong and he’s got you lifted up off of the ground and onto his back, having grabbed your wrist at the perfect time to hoist you over his shoulder. You gasp in shock, body not necessarily remembering this part, and then—

He slams the both of you down onto the mat, your back hitting the cushion with a thud as the breathe gets knocked from your lungs. You definitely haven’t done this part in a while. 

You know the recruits are all watching you intently, but you refuse to lose like this, even if this is normally the part where the person pinned underneath the other one surrenders. With both of your arms and all of your force, you attempt to shove J off of you by using your elbow to punch him in the chest. If you go down (which you most certainly will), you will go down with a fight. 

He sees your move coming from a mile away, and immediately pins both of your arms above your head with a simple swish of his hand. The other one is holding up his body by your head as you both stare at each other, breathing heavily. His leg sits in between both of yours, resting up against your thigh, and his head hovers a very dangerous less-than-three inches away from your own. If a particularly near-sighted person were to stumble upon the both of you, you’d be absolutely screwed. 

The both of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a second, the wind knocked out of you. You never quite realized what his face looks like up close. His cheeks are bright red. But it’s a second too long because the recruits have gone silent, refusing to applaud or do anything else to signal that the sparring match is over. 

And then, it feels like a million years pass as J slowly removes himself from on top of your body, standing up and dusting his hands off before leaning down and offering his hand to help you up. Too floored and absolutely speechless to reject his extended palm like you normally would, you grab onto his hand and let him hoist you up, unable to speak. 

“How was that for a demonstration?” J asks the recruits, who are all blinking like they’ve just witnessed something far too shocking for their liking. 

Another trainee, a boisterous young man who walked into today’s session with his energy fully up and his eyes on the prize, raises his hand. “Could you show us again?”

You and J take one look at each other. 

No. Way. 

♚ HERE ♚

Because your office is both tightly knit and also uncannily resembles a cast of grown adults playing various high school stereotypes in a Hallmark movie, every year you do Office Superlatives. Office superlatives are basically an excuse for everyone to come up with a way to insult each other 1) while getting paid to do so and 2) without facing any repercussions whatsoever. 

For three years in a row, your office has designated you as “Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Really Important”, a superlative that came about because on your very first day, you spilled your coffee on the one and only Kim Namjoon, who you then mistook as your boss, and thus ensued the most embarrassing one minute and thirteen seconds of your entire life in front of a bunch of colleagues you would have to see every weekday for the foreseeable future. 

Thankfully, you haven’t spilled your coffee on anyone important since then, even if you do regularly knock over your pencil cup and send every pastel-colored highlighter flying across the hardwood floor. It became such a frequent occurrence that, for April Fool’s Day last year, Taehyung and Jimin taped every single thing on your desk to your desk to see how long it would take you to notice. 

(It took you over three weeks, but that’s besides the point.)

“I know that the saying is ‘the customer is always right’, but this client I’m working with right now is literally wrong,” Taehyung says with a sigh. He collapses back in his office chair, mindlessly playing with the fur of the stuffed Pomeranian dog he keeps on his desk, staring down the email on his desktop. “Like, I’m not Squarespace or Wix. Either you pay me to design your website entirely, or you do it yourself. I’m not a drag-and-drop of a person, and I don’t get paid to be consulted on every font choice.”

“Didn’t you write on your resume that you can identify every standard Microsoft font without being told the name?” Yoongi asks with a frown from across the office. He’s making the most of his gigantic desktop computer, and has a tab open with One Punch Man right next to a Photoshop logo design he’s working on. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it,” Taehyung says with a frown. “I need someone who knows how to let people down easily.”

“Jimin?” Hoseok pipes up unhelpfully, earning an eraser to the face from Jimin, who is notorious for going on a bunch of first dates and very, very seldom going on a second one. You don’t even think that for the entire time you’ve known him, he’s ever gone a third date with someone. Ever. 

“Do not make fun of my lifestyle choices!” Jimin shouts out defensively. “I just like meeting new people.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says like a white girl in a Disney Channel Original Movie, “and then never meeting them again.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Jimin tells him pointedly, already beginning to stand up from his office chair to attempt to further convince him that serial-first-dating isn’t all that bad. “Two weeks ago, I saw this guy that I had gone on a date with last year and he told me that his friend was starting up a small pet barbershop business and needed help with the graphic design for his company. Now I’m designing this guy’s logo and backsplash for his wall.” He says matter-of-factly. 

Hoseok frowns. “So, what I’m hearing is that you saw a guy you had gone on a date with last year, and what you got out of it, was more work.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something else, but he flounders. Hoseok cackles to himself, shaking his head because Jimin’s just proved his point further. 

“I’ll ask Seokjin,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “He could tell me that I’ve lost my job and that I’m getting evicted from my apartment and I would thank him.”

Amen. 

“Hey, where is Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, spinning around in his office chair for the most efficient way to scan the entire office in search of the man. “He was just here watching One Punch Man with Yoongi.”

“I didn’t even notice he had gotten up,” Yoongi says, turning to the empty spot next to him where Seokjin once was. 

“I’ll go look for him, I need to grab something from the printer, anyway,” you volunteer, pushing your chair back, standing up, and avoiding the gazes of anybody in the office who happens to have knowledge of your not-so-secret secret crush. This means that you are staring down at the lines of the wooden planks in the floor as you walk over to the back hallway, because every single person in the room currently has at least… well… some insight. 

“He’s all yours, Y/N,” Taehyung wolf whistles, making you roll your eyes as you head down the hallway.  

Too busy counting the planks that make up the hardwood floor and hoping that you’ll maybe be able to identify Seokjin by the shoes he’s wearing rather than anything else, you don’t look at where you’re going as you make a beeline for the printing room. That is, you make a beeline for the printing room until you crash right into an unsuspecting colleague. 

“Oh, shit!” Said colleague cries out.

Oh God. 

You look up to find Seokjin standing in front of you, a nearly-empty cup of low-grade office coffee in his hand, and a growing brown stain on his pale blue dress shirt. One look on the floor and there’s a puddle of coffee gathered at your feet, wet splotches on your flats and his loafers. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide and apologetic as he immediately searches for some place to put down his coffee to avoid any more casualties. He looks right at you, making you want to curl in on yourself, before his eyes train down to your torso.

Only then do you realize he’s not shamelessly staring at your chest, but rather at the massive brown stain on the front of your blouse, quickly seeping into the fabric, the scalding temperature of the coffee having gone right over your head the moment you realized who exactly it was that you crashed into. 

“Uh…” you stammer, brain crashing as everything that’s just happened in the past thirty seconds catches up to you all at once. 

“Oh my God, I’m such a mess,” Seokjin says, fumbling awkwardly as he finally finds a trash can to toss his sad lump of a coffee cup into.

No you’re not, you want to tell him, but the words don’t come out and you’re left standing there, looking sort of like you blame him for everything, when in reality, you just have no idea how to function in front of him. 

“Coffee stains,” Seokjin says, hands fishing through his seemingly bottomless pants pockets (he could probably fit an entire Nintendo Switch and its dock in there) until he pulls out this measly little thing that vaguely resembles your orange highlighter. “Here, I have a Tide To-Go pen.”

Before you can tell him that you can just deal with the stain and wash it in the privacy of your own home where you don’t look like a bumbling idiot, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the gender neutral bathroom nearby, locking the door as the light flickers on. 

“Here, do you need help?” Seokjin asks, holding out his Tide To-Go pen as he wets a paper towel made of entirely recycled materials and begins fruitlessly dabbing at his shirt. 

“I’m alright, really,” you insist, staring into the mirror and trying desperately to avoid the fact that Seokjin’s shirt becomes transparent when it’s wet. Maybe quitting your job and moving to another city doesn’t sound unappealing after all. “I can just get it out with OxiClean at my apartment, Seokjin, seriously.”

“Are you sure? That’s what the Tide To-Go pen is for,” Seokjin says, holding it out towards you again as a final attempt to get you to use it. 

“No offense, Seokjin, but I don’t know if the Tide To-Go pen is even going to make a dent in the stain on my shirt,” you chuckle, the only thing you can think of to get him to stop offering the thing to you. The Tide To-Go pen is meant for when you accidentally get a bit of ketchup onto your jeans as you move the french fry from your plate to your mouth. Not when you’ve got a giant coffee stain on the front of your shirt. 

“God, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Seokjin says, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt to try and get a better grip on the fabric as he relentlessly scrubs at it. God help you. He may as well take the whole thing off at this point—though you really, really hope that he doesn’t. “I’m such a klutz.”

“No, it’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you tell him. You still know that you passed by 107 wooden planks before you crashed into him, because that is what you do when you don’t want to look anyone in the eye. 

“Seriously, though, I had the cup of coffee. I feel really bad, I could pay to get it dry cleaned for you?” He offers, eyes wide and in search of some way to make it up to you. 

“No, no, that’s not necessary. I’m can handle a stain, Seokjin. I’m an adult. I live in my own apartment and everything,” you say firmly, refusing to accept anything else from him. God, if he paid for your dry-cleaning, you’d never be able to live that down. “Maybe I’ll finally stop being voted Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important,” you joke, trying to make light of the fact that you’re standing in the tiny gender-neutral bathroom together, Seokjin’s practically got half of his transparent dress shirt unbuttoned, and you both have massive and very conspicuous brown stains on your tops. All wonderful, wonderful things. 

At this point, Seokjin stares down at his shirt and, quite frankly, just gives up, smoothing out his shirt as best as he can and tossing the poor, now-coffee-colored paper towel away. 

“I suppose it’s high time we give you a break for always knocking over that pencil cup of yours,” Seokjin jokes back as he opens the door, motioning for you to leave first. 

“We should invest in some Velcro for it,” you suggest, making Seokjin chuckle as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Uh… what the fuck?” 

The two of you are stopped in your tracks by a particularly suspicious Taehyung, who just witnessed the two of you walk out of the same bathroom with both of your clothes fairly askew. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” you immediately tell him, eyes wide. Count on him to get the wrong idea. 

“Okay,” Taehyung says, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“Taehyung, come on, I spilled coffee on the both of us,” Seokjin attempts, but Taehyung is absolutely not having it. 

“That’s what they all say,” he says cryptically, nodding as he heads to the printer room with his eyes still narrowed. He glares at the both of you until he rounds the corner, out of sight, and by then your cheeks have heated up so badly you think you might actually start sweating.

“Now the whole office is going to think we’re dating,” you say, somewhat jokingly but also somewhat seriously. There’s no way Taehyung’s going to be able to keep his mouth shut for any longer than the next five minutes. 

Seokjin laughs, looking at you and shrugging. “There are worse things, right?”

Are there?

♚ THERE ♚

“Oh, Y/N!”

You inhale. 

Of all of the places in the Kingdom that J has not yet infiltrated and ruined for you, the small cafe on the edge of the kingdom borders has to have been the last one. You discovered it while you were on night watch as a baby knight, a task given to those too dedicated to the job to release but not yet prepared enough to fight on the front lines. It’s a quiet place, open more hours of the day than closed, owned by an old lady with no other family to take care of the business. You’ve already promised her that after she passes, you will immediately begin funding the cafe yourself, too much money on your hands and not enough wonderful places like this to spend it on.

When days are loud and hectic, when the King and Queen and all of their military advisors are stressed and have been snapping at you all day, this is where you come. The old lady keeps her door open especially for you (at least that’s what she tells you), always with a steaming cup of jasmine tea and a wise old story to tell you. Sometimes, you’ll get to tell a story back, and you exchange words of wisdom from a knight at the highest ranking in the kingdom and an elder with many years of experience in the kingdom behind her. She always tells you, “keep your eyes wide and your heart open, because things can only enter it if you’re looking out for them.”

You’ve held those words close to your soul ever since the first time you heard them. 

But when your eyes are wide and staring down a certain knight in the kingdom who seems to have stumbled upon your one sacred place, you’re a little bothered, to say the least.

You exhale.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say sourly, the scalding tea burning your tongue as you take a sip. 

“I’ve never seen this place before,” J admits helplessly, already bowing to the old lady who runs the place. He introduces himself handsomely, and much like everyone else bewitched by his good looks and unrealistically charismatic personality, she immediately warms up to him. 

“I wish it could stay that way,” you mumble to yourself, far too quiet for anyone except you and your tea to hear. “It’s far away,” you say to him as the lady ushers him to the seat next to yours, already promising him tea on the house. You sigh. “Wouldn’t expect you to go hunting for a nice tea place when there are so many wonderful places in the city.”

“I guess it’s nice to branch out,” J says with a shrug. “I have to say that I don’t really go out to cafes all that often. Too busy.”

“You know I understand how that goes,” you tell him honestly. For once, it’s something you can actually relate to. “But I think that it’s important to take a break from our duties and just relax. We don’t have much time to do that, you know.”

The lady brings over tea, and J insists he pay her for it despite her insistence for him not to. She shuffles off into the back before he can even get out some coins.

“Tell me, where can I leave this? I feel terrible not paying,” J asks you. It catches you off guard, really, mostly because he seems to be the kind of person who walks around the center square winking at every vendor in the hopes of receiving free merchandise. 

“Oh,” you say, embarrassingly speechless. “Well, I suppose I could take it and give it to her. If we left rather soon then we could simply leave it on the counter for her to find. It’s likely that she won’t come back out for a while, since I have company.”

“Am I your company, Y/N?” J asks, almost teasingly. It makes you want to chuck your cup of jasmine tea into his face. 

“Don’t think too much of it,” you advise him, a warning to tell him to knock it off. “We’re just here together.”

“Lucky us,” J says, holding up his cup of tea for a toast. You indulge him (begrudgingly so), letting your glasses clink together as you both finish a much needed warm drink on a chilly afternoon. 

Too soon, the respite of the cafe is broken by a knock at the door. You both turn to find a messenger waiting patiently outside the cafe, motioning for J to come and speak to him. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” J says, scooting back his chair and heading over, shutting the door behind him. 

The moment the door closes, the old lady reappears from the back of the room, collecting your finished cups as you both listen intently to the murmuring outside. 

“That young man mentioned that the two of you spend lots of time together,” the muses, cleaning the cups with a wet rag. She’s got a knowing look in her eye, like she’s picked up on something the both of you seem to have overlooked. 

“We’re both knights,” you correct. It’s important to you that she knows that you don’t spend time together out of personal preference. It’s merely obligation. “So we see each other quite often.”

“I’ve never seen him around before,” she says pointedly, “but he seems to know quite a lot about you.”

“Oh, not really,” you insist. How could he? You’ve barely known him a month. Still, it’s clear that the lady doesn’t believe you. 

“As you say,” she says, skeptical. 

You’re about to open your mouth and reject her notions further, but then the door opens up again, and J looks terribly apologetic as he walks inside, joining your side. “We’ve been called in.”

As per usual, the Kingdom appears with impeccable timing to ruin the rest of your afternoon. It has a striking tendency to do that. 

“For what?” You ask, exasperated. J doesn’t look much happier. 

“Criminal hearings,” J says, and the words make you you toss your head back and sigh. 

Criminal hearings and its many, many procedures are quite possibly your least favorite part of being a top-ranked royal knight. With your knowledge of the ins and outs of the military and the kingdom’s inner workings, as well as with you being an advisor to the generals and the King and Queen, you are often obligated to attend these, just in case there is a desperate need for the technicalities of military crimes that no one else can provide. It is, admittedly, extremely boring, since you can’t really offer any sort of insight or opinion on the actual criminal and their crime at hand. 

“Fine,” you say, suddenly much less energized than you were approximately thirty seconds ago. “I suppose that we’ll have to be on our way.”

“Ma’am,” J says, attracting the attention of the old lady behind the counter. He holds out some coins, palm facing up. “Please accept this from me. I couldn’t leave without paying you for your wonderful tea and service.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the lady says with a shake of her hand. “Any friend of Y/N’s is well-deserving of some tea. You both work very hard. You should take any opportunity that presents itself to relax, and enjoy being young.”

“Please,” J insists, placing the coins in her hand, “a token of my gratitude. We shall return soon, right Y/N?” He gives your shoulder a nudge, making you look up at him. Return? You’d be blessed if J forgot about this place entirely, though you know that he’s bound to come back soon. 

Perhaps there are worse things than losing your favorite cafe to him. Perhaps, you can simply learn to enjoy his company, instead. 

“Of course, how could I resist?” You say, waving goodbye to the lady at the counter. “We really must be going, but I shall see you soon.”

“Take care of yourselves, the both of you!” She sees you off with a smile and a wink directed right at you for a cause you aren’t too keen on picking up. Old ladies are always so vague. 

When you walk outside, you’re surprised to find yourselves alone. “Where’s the messenger guard?” You ask, looking around to see if he’s found a tree to take respite from the sun under. 

J laughs, warm and hearty. “I sent him off, told him we would be able to make it ourselves.”

“Oh, alright,” you say with a shrug, already beginning to trudge the familiar path towards the castle. 

You take six steps before realizing that J is neither next to you nor following you, still standing on the porch of the cafe as the sun makes his hair glimmer a dark caramel in the light. 

“Aren’t you coming?” You turn around to ask, an eyebrow raised as you tap your foot on the cobblestone road. 

“Have you ever skipped a criminal hearing before, Y/N?” J asks, and the very notion of bailing makes your eyes go wide. 

“Skipped?” You clarify. 

“That’s what I said,” J confirms. 

“No…” You trail off, feeling more and more like the try hard you once were while training, wide-eyed and eager to prove yourself. Standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on your toes and twiddling your fingers as he steps off of the porch, taking long strides to reach you, makes you feel so nervous. With every step he takes closer to you, your heart begins to beat faster, faster, faster. 

“Well,” J says, reaching out his hand to take hold of your own. “Would you like to start?”

When you were stationed on the Kingdom’s borders, you thought you had explored every nook and cranny of Kala. You had wandered through forests, across rivers, and into small edge villages with goods you had never even heard of before. You thought you had seen it all. 

Clearly, you were mistaken. 

J pulls you off of the cobblestone path and immediately takes you into the woods that surround the cafe, weaving past trees and ferns and grass alike. This time of year, the forest is ripe with greenery, right when summer is coming to an end but the leaves have yet to begin to fade to brown. Even without landmarks or a path to guide him, J seems to know exactly where the two of you are going, like he’s taken this road a million times before. And still, you had never seen him before this. 

It’s a wonder that the two of you missed each other for so long. 

“Where are we going, J?” You ask, laughing as the exhilaration of skipping your duties in favor of a fun day in the forest begins to flow through your veins. You’ve never done this before. 

“Just wait, you’ll see,” he says cryptically, taking you down a large hill. You must be out of the Kingdom borders by now, with how far you’ve been going, and yet, no one had ever thought to place guards in this area. 

Five more minutes of travelling and you’re near convinced that J is about to take you to some cave in the floor of the forest and murder you, when he tugs you up a hill to reveal—

It’s a clearing with grass so green you’d almost think it was enchanted. The leaves of the trees whisper to each other, voices flowing with the wind that breezes by each and every one, saying hello to the branches as they rustle. Tall grass and ferns grow on the edge of the forest, disguising the clearing to anyone who wouldn’t bother to keep looking, make their way through the overgrowth and into the oasis. 

Never in a million years would you have been able to find this place on your own. 

“What do you think?” J asks excitedly as he pulls you into the middle of the clearing, where the leaves of the trees have left an opening for the sun to shine through, a halo in the middle of the forest. 

“I—I’m speechless,” you say, eyes wandering from every piece of bark to every blade of grass. You’ve always loved your Kingdom and its beauty, from the extravagant castle to the little shacks on the border, but this is more than that. This isn’t just beauty—it’s magic. “How did you find this place?”

“Strayed from the pack during military training outside,” he says guiltily. Clearly, skipping out on responsibilities has become a habit of J’s. 

“Unbelievable,” you say, fingers tracing along the wildflowers growing close to the forest floor. You take a seat in the middle of it all, letting the sun stream through the leaves as the flowers open their petals at your touch. It’s as if every single living thing has been enchanted—like none of this could exist naturally. 

“Do you like it?” J asks, taking a seat on the stone next to you. He reaches down to run his fingers through the grass, letting the soft dirt gather on his skin. 

“I don’t think I have the words,” you tell him. You thought you had found a hidden respite from the hustle and bustle, but he has found not just a respite. He’s found a home. “Why would you show me this place?”

“What do you mean?” J asks. He finds a small yellow flower, a buttercup, and plucks it from the ground, twirling it between his fingers.

“I mean, why would you bring me here? Wouldn’t you want to keep this place all for yourself?” You inquire, curious. Certainly, that’s what you would do. 

J pauses for a moment, staring down at the buttercup in his hands. Wordlessly, he hands it to you, watches as your fingers touch his own, taking the buttercup from him. You twirl it between your fingers, and wonder what all of this means. 

“No,” he eventually answers. “Because a place like this deserves to be shared with the people that deserve to see it.”

♚ HERE ♚

[You have 5 unread messages]

Jungkook (5:53PM): Is it still acceptable to talk about Kingdom at company dinners? Jungkook (5:53PM): Is the ban that Yoongi instated last company dinner still going? Do you think he’ll be mad if I talk about how I just got a bunch of gold from solving the mystery of the time capsule?

Yoongi (5:55PM): If I have to sit through another company dinner where everyone is talking about Kingdom and nobody is talking about anime or my dog Holly I will lose it

Taehyung (5:57PM): You’re coming, right? You mentioned having a thing that ended pretty late this evening so you weren’t sure you’d make it

Seokjin (6:03PM): Excited to see you tonight! Promise I won’t spill anything on you tonight haha

Your office’s annual company dinner is the one and only opportunity you, as employees, get per year to talk about whatever you like in front of your colleagues, all while getting a meal paid for by your wonderfully unassuming, hardheaded boss. It is both a celebration of camaraderie and, of course, being employed, and a chance for your personal group to talk about Kingdom for two hours straight without repercussions. 

Needless to say, many of you are looking forward to it. 

To Jungkook (6:07PM): Yes, but only if we get to talk about how I’m still the best at the game out of everyone To Jungkook (6:07PM): Also, don’t forget to talk to Yoongi about My Hero Academia I know that you secretly love it

To Yoongi (6:08PM): Bring earplugs? Or maybe a manga book to get the conversation going?

To Taehyung (6:08PM): Yeah, I’ll be there To Taehyung (6:08PM): Probably be late though To Taehyung (6:09PM): Save me a seat!

To Seokjin (6:10PM): Not sure if I can promise the same thing! Fingers crossed we make it out tonight unscathed by scalding hot liquids

The company dinner starts at 6:30, which means that it really starts at 7:00 by the time everyone arrives, but even still, you’ll probably be late because you are actually doing last-minute laundry, and not attending a special event like you had told Taehyung. Sue you. Your clothes were dirty. 

Standing in the middle of your apartment wearing the slouchiest clothes you own, you wonder if it’s even worth going when you know that you will probably 1) be late and 2) have to endure two hours worth of Kingdom talk and other things that leave you thoroughly embarrassed, like your nonexistent love life. 

You’ve never skipped out on a company dinner before, but then again, never have all of your colleagues been so on top of you about your very insignificant, not at all soul-crushing, extremely minimal, super unimportant, tiny little infatuation with a certain coworker, so there’s that to consider. 

Not to mention the fact that your entire office genuinely believes that the two of you hooked up in the gender neutral bathroom during the middle of the workday, which is a circumstance so improbable you have no idea how Taehyung managed to convince everybody that that was actually what happened. It’s not as if your coworkers didn’t see the ridiculous brown stains on the front of your and Seokjin’s shirts, or didn’t smell the office coffee stench all over the both of you. 

So, for once in your life, you are genuinely considering just staying at home, finishing your laundry, and eating the frozen veggie burritos you bought from Costco two weeks ago. It sounds very tempting.

This thought is immediately combated by the fact that you usually have some of the most fun during the year at this company dinner, and a free meal at a nice, upscale restaurant is something that you would normally never pass up. But then again, Seokjin will be there and he will be dressed very nicely, and the rest of your coworkers will also be there, and they will be relentless. 

Jungkook (6:33PM): Tae said you’d be late but please come soon! We can’t talk about Kingdom without the best player present!!!! Jungkook (6:33PM): Oh no Namjoon sees me with my phone

And out of every possible text you could have received that night, that one is the one that convinces you to pull out the same dress you’ve worn to the company dinner (it’s not as if anyone else will remember) every other year, tug it on, and head out. Your Costco veggie burritos will have to wait for another stay-at-home night. 

You arrive fashionably late as always, walking into the restaurant and just asking for directions to where the “big group of loud office workers” is, a term easily identifiable by the scrambled hostess with fifteen different tables to seat all at once. She points you to the back room, where you can already hear Hoseok’s laughter from outside in the main dining area. 

“You guys are loud,” you say in lieu of a greeting, everyone letting out cries of “Y/N!” and “You made it!” as you look around for the last empty seat. 

“Here, saved you a spot right next to me,” Seokjin volunteers helpfully, motioning to the empty velvet chair next to him. In the seat next to that sits Taehyung, who is grinning guiltily, like he didn’t just dupe you into thinking he had saved you a seat next to him and someone else other than the person you were hoping not to embarrass yourself in front of. 

“Thinking of me when I’m not even here, how thoughtful,” you say, walking over and sending a glare Taehyung’s way as you take your seat, the glass at the top right corner of your placemat already filled. 

“How could we forget about you?” Seokjin reasons, and he says it so casually but it makes your heart flutter all the same. 

When Seokjin’s finally started talking to Hoseok and Jimin on his other side, the two of them attempting to explain the inner workings of Kingdom to him (to little avail, as per usual), you round on Taehyung, who is every bit the best wingman and the worst friend in the entire world. 

“How could you do this to me?” You hiss at him, trying not to attract the attention of the man sitting on the opposite side of you. 

“I said I had saved you a seat!” Taehyung says defensively, clearly enjoying himself way too much. 

“This was not what I had in mind,” you tell him pointedly. 

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have hidden it from you,” Taehyung says. He motions to Seokjin, who’s laughing at something that Jimin’s just said, eyes crinkled into half moons as the waiter places the cocktail he’s ordered down in front of him. “You know, it’s not so bad having a crush on him, right?”

“He is our coworker and way out of my league, of course it is,” you remind Taehyung. 

Taehyung shrugs you off with a wave of his hand. “Give yourself some credit, Y/N. You’re hot. Embrace it.”

“I will not, thank you very much. This conversation makes me want to hurl,” you say as normally as possible, blinking to show your discomfort to Taehyung. 

“You need to stop being so afraid of what might actually come out of this,” Taehyung says, a reassuring hand on your arm. “You never know what might happen.”

“What’s definitely going to happen is that I’m going to feel too cold from the vent above my head, and we’re going to switch seats,” you say. You immediately make to stand up, but Taehyung grabs onto your wrist and looks up at you like a child begging for candy in a supermarket. 

“Please, Y/N? Just give it a try, and if you hate it by the time the entree comes around, we can switch. Alright?” He asks, a simple compromise to get you to sit back down. 

You sigh. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to shoot your shot, no matter how terrible your aim is. 

“I didn’t order any soup, so hopefully we can last through this dinner without ruining more of our clothes,” Seokjin says, an icebreaker to ease the obvious tension between the two of you. He breaks down your walls so easily, carves out a path in the side of it to waltz right through. 

“I don’t know,” you say sarcastically,” you better finish that cocktail soon or we might both be in big trouble.”

Seokjin chuckles, warm and full, and takes another sip of the fruity drink for good measure. “Don’t know how you keep getting crowned Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important when I’m here, a walking coffee volcano.”

“When the superlatives roll around, I’ll petition the court and see if we can crown you instead,” you promise. 

“I’m honored. I’ll cherish that title for as long as I live,” Seokjin jokes, bowing to you just for good measure. “This is nice, you know.”

“What is?” You ask, peering down at the large group menu. Everything looks awfully delicious and awfully expensive, so you just go for a classic pasta dish and hope that Taehyung orders something different, so you can try each other’s. 

“Sitting next to you,” Seokjin says like it’s obvious, making you blink at your menu like it’s just offended your entire family ancestry. “I don’t think we’ve ever been paired up like this at a company dinner.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” You ask hopefully. 

“It’s nice,” Seokjin says. “I feel like we don’t get to talk very much at work.”

“You said you’d bring more doughnuts,” you remind him. Seokjin has held up on his promise, actually, and since the first round of doughnuts, he’s brought on two more occasions to brighten up everybody’s day. 

“I think I need a better excuse than doughnuts,” Seokjin says to himself. “I can’t keep going to Dunkin’ right before work, pretty soon all of the workers will know me by name and that is a level that I’m not sure I’d like to reach yet.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you tell him, a hand instinctively coming to rest on his shoulder as comfort. “Some of the Costco employees recognize me even when I’m wearing my sunglasses inside.”

“You wear your sunglasses inside Costco?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. 

“Sometimes I just forget to take them off when I walk from my car into the store!” You say defensively. “It’s really bright in there, sue me.”

“No, no, I think it’s cute,” Seokjin assures you. “Maybe being recognized by the Dunkin’ employees won’t be that bad. At least they probably wouldn’t know who I was if I had my sunglasses on.”

“I’m being attacked, I’m pretty sure,” you say pointedly. 

“Only affectionately. You’re still ridiculously endearing.” Seokjin says with a chuckle, smiling at you as Jungkook calls your name to tell him something about Kingdom that he’s forgotten. But even as Seokjin gets tugged into another conversation and you get pulled into your own, your brain can’t help but replay the sound of his voice in your head, over and over. 

You’re still ridiculously endearing.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jimin asks over a mouthful of complimentary bread with olive oil. “Did you ever figure out who knocked Y/N from the top spot in Kingdom?”

“No,” Jungkook cries out, suddenly thirsty for justice. “It makes me so mad that I don’t know who they are, especially since they’re getting all the in-game brand deals and Y/N gets nothing,” he says pointedly as he motions to you, clearly exasperated for a cause that wasn’t even his to begin with. 

“Jungkook, it’s not a big deal, it’s just a game,” you remind him, the table too wide to reach over and pat his hand comfortingly. “I still get a lot of things in second place.”

“What’s Jungkook talking about?” Seokjin asks, motioning to where Jungkook seems to be on a rampage as Jimin and Namjoon listen in. 

“Oh, Kingdom, like always,” you say fondly. “He’s determined to figure out the name of the person who dethroned me.”

“Is that so?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. “He’s got his work cut out for him. How many people play Kingdom?”

“Hundreds of thousands, probably,” you say. “Maybe millions.”

“Millions of people, and somehow we ended up with the second-best player in the game right at this table,” Seokjin says with a grin. “We should be honored.”

“It’s just a game,” you remind him, even though the sentiment is awfully sweet. “I think I much prefer the real world, don’t you?”

Seokjin smiles at you as the waiter comes around to offer him another cocktail. 

“Another one, sir?”

Seokjin looks down at the cocktail, then at your unstained clothes, and he shakes his head, laughing to himself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.” The waiter nods, taking his empty glass and moving onto another coworker. He looks at you, and his eyes are swimming in stars. “I think that I do, too.”

Dinner ends with Hoseok and Jungkook gobbling down everybody’s leftovers, your boss paying the bill without even glancing at the check, and you laughing alongside Seokjin, who keeps your end of the table entertained with fantastic stories about his past job at a luxury department store and less-than-fantastic dad jokes that he prides himself for coming up with on the spot. 

Taehyung had nudged you when the entrees had come around, motioning to the vent above your head, but you hadn’t even noticed the cold. 

“Ugh,” Jimin says with a groan as the group of you head outside once everyone is finished, the chilly night air hitting your skin as you open the door. “I hate that we could only schedule this for a Wednesday, because it means we have to come into work again tomorrow.”

“When else are we supposed to schedule it for?” Yoongi asks with a frown. “Did you even look at the When2Meet? Nobody had any free time for the rest of the month.”

“Well, if everyone’s cleared their schedules just for this dinner, anyone want to keep the celebration going at my apartment? I just bought a box of wine from Trader Joe’s,” Jimin asks. 

“On a Wednesday?” Yoongi says, nose scrunched up in disapproval. 

“Yeah, when else would you drink boxed Trader Joe’s wine?” Jimin responds like it’s obvious. 

Everyone begins to either disperse back to their cars or get Jimin’s address so they can get wine drunk on a Wednesday like you’re supposed to, leaving you and Seokjin out of the crowd. 

“Are you heading over to Jimin’s?” He asks you as you begin to walk towards your cars, taking a step every five seconds as you watch Jimin tell everybody his exact address, loudly and slowly enough for any burglars and axe-wielding murderers within a three-mile radius to also hear him. 

“No, I think I’ll just head home for the night,” you say, checking the time on your phone. It’s nearly ten, already. Where did the time go?

“Ah, then I guess I will, too,” Seokjin says. “Oh, here��s my car.”

“You parked close,” you comment. 

“I thought that I’d be late because I arrived at 6:45, but I was the second one here,” Seokjin tells you, making you laugh. 

“Sounds like our office, doesn’t it?”

“I guess. We’ll have to do this again sometime just to see how late everyone shows up,” Seokjin says. 

“Promise I’ll be early next time,” you say. 

“Next time, then?” Seokjin asks, already opening his car door and beginning to step inside. You stand on the sidewalk in front of him, watching as he pulls the door shut and waves to you through the windshield. A next time sounds awfully nice. 

“Next time.”

♚ THERE ♚

The King and Queen never do find out about your truancy, though you have to admit, you were never really worried about that in the first place. Not when J was grinning as he told you he had sent the messenger guard off, laughing as he dragged you through the forest, smiling as he twirled a buttercup between his fingers. He had done it before and he’ll do it again, and look where that’s gotten him. 

Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him. 

Still, despite your high ranks, the two of you can’t avoid your responsibilities forever. Eventually, you will always have to report back to the castle, get a new assignment, and start the cycle all over again. 

“At least they’re letting us go together,” J reasons as the two of you nod to the knights standing guard at the border of the kingdom, by the main forest that leads directly to a kingdom with whom your relationship isn’t all that strong. No wars have broken out between your two lands in years, but never has stability been one-hundred percent earned, which means that both kingdoms must be on high alert. You never know when a rebel group will attempt to invade the land. 

“Like I’d want to spend any more time with you,” you joke, giving J a nudge in the side as you stroll along the forest edge. In the middle of the day with the sun high above your heads, neither of you are particularly worried about being attacked. It would be foolish for an enemy group to do so, especially at a time when the kingdom’s guards are the most awake. 

“Am I really such awful company?” J asks, and he’s smiling but he asks in such a way, it’s almost as if he means it. The two of you have never been on the best of terms, but you’ve found yourself growing out of the competition-fueled rage you once always found yourself in whenever you were near him. No longer is regaining your first place your most important priority. Rather, it’s doing your job and doing it correctly, upholding the duties that the kingdom has entrusted you with, regardless of who’s by your side. 

(Though, even if you’d never admit it, J makes quite good company, most of the time.)

“No,” you insist, a hand reaching out to rub comfortingly at his forearm. “You aren’t.”

“You think so?” J says with a laugh, almost bitter. “I must say, you’ve never been that fond of me.”

“You may have charmed your way into the rest of the kingdom’s hearts, but I needed some convincing,” you remind him, reminiscent of how he would tease you constantly, dangle his promotion right above your head like a trophy you’d never be able to reach. 

“Did I do a good job, then?” J asks, hands in his pockets. It’s a quiet day, today. Even the birds have begun to murmur. 

“You did quite alright,” you say, nudging him. “Though I must say, I absolutely hate how all of the vendor’s daughters fawn all over you and give you free items like fruit, and jewelry. I’m never given that treatment.”

“You just don’t have my naturally charming, handsome, soft looks,” J says, posing in front of you as the two of you walk. The obnoxiousness of it all makes you almost want to chuck the apple you’re about to eat right at his face. 

“What do you mean? I can be charming,” you say with a pout. You pretend to flip your hair, just for emphasis. 

“You and I are different types of charming,” J says casually. “You’re strong. You speak loudly and clearly and you don’t ever flounder. You always know exactly what you want, and know the best way to get it. You aren’t afraid of anything, and are always willing to take on any challenge that comes your way. It’s… it’s different.”

And even if he thinks you never flounder, never stumble over your words or stutter, for once, you can’t think of anything to say. You’re walking along the forest’s edge with a knight you had convinced yourself that you would never befriend, and he’s just told you all of these wonderful things about yourself you never would have known he’d thought otherwise. 

J’s right. It is different. This is different. And you can hardly remember when it started to be like this. Only one day, it was just like this, and it never stopped. 

“Do you really think all of those things about me?” You ask, staring down at your boots as you walk along the dirt path, kicking small pebbles as you go. They go flying off into the grass, never to be seen again. But sometimes, you come across one you had kicked a few steps back, and you try again, earnestly hoping to see how far it will go with you by its side. 

“I mean, well…” J says, stumbling. “I don’t just think those things about you, you know? They’re facts, aren’t they? Those are things that, well, I suppose, everyone would think about you. Right?”

“You know what I think?” You ask, looking up at him. His dark hair shimmers in the light, like reflects of gold have been sprinkled amongst the ink black. “We are different types of charming. You’re charismatic and friendly, always willing to listen. You accept things graciously and are always grateful for what you receive. You pay people back whatever they’ve given you, even if it’s not the same item, even if it’s just the thought that counts. You always want to do better, and then you do. You work hard for each thing you get, and you never take it for granted.”

J grins down at you. “But you don’t actually think that, do you?”

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “Just facts.”

“Just facts,” he echoes. 

When did talking to him become so easy? When did it all start coming to you naturally?

“Did you ever hate me?” He asks you, curious. He knows, he must, that that’s not the case anymore. 

“No,” you admit, perhaps more to yourself than to him. “I think that I just hated that you were better than me. But… like you said, it’s different now. Now, I don’t care if you’re better than me. That sort of competition makes me a better soldier. You make me a better soldier.”

“Really?” J wonders, genuine. His eyes are wide in surprise, shocked at such a candid admission coming from you. To be honest, you’re surprised with yourself, as well. “I had no idea.”

“Keep it up, then. You know—”

A taut string let go. 

The wind stopping in its tracks. 

And an arrow headed right for your heart. 

“Oh my God!” You shout quickly, unable to do much except alert the man next to you that the two of you are in imminent danger. 

Before you can even blink, close your eyes and wait for the tip to pierce your heart, J is pushing you out of the way, sending you flying to the forest floor and he pulls his bow from his back, sending a steel arrow flying in the direction of the woods. You both wait there, only a second but it’s a second too long, until you hear a thud on the ground, a final breath, and then—

Silence. 

The moment you’re both positive the assailant is dead, J turns to you, eyes wide. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m alright,” you assure him, telling him (and yourself) over and over as he pulls you up from the ground. Your heart is racing and you can’t quite seem to catch your breath, but you’re alive and so is he, and that’s all that matters. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he immediately says. “As long as you are.”

You look behind him to find an arrow stuck in a tree, but what alarms you more is the sight of blood on the tip. Immediately, you turn back to J, only to find the side of his arm covered in blood, bleeding right through his armor.

“Oh my God, J, you’re hurt,” you cry out, fumbling for something to stop the flow.

“I’m alright, Y/N, really,” he insists, placing a hand on top of your own, rubbing the back of it with his thumb for good measure. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.”

“We have to take you back to the kingdom,” you push, already beginning to head back towards the gate. 

“I’ve suffered worse injuries, Y/N, seriously,” he tells you, hoping to ease the pit of worry in your stomach. “I’m a top-ranked knight who prefers the battlefield over anything else. I’ve broken bones, gotten stabbed, and nearly died. This? It’s nothing. Really. Please, don’t worry.”

“We still have to get you back to the Kingdom and patch you up,” you insist firmly. “Even if you say you’re alright.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Y/N.” J goes with you obligingly, lets you walk him back to the kingdom gates. 

You urge him into the local medical practitioner, sit him down on the bench and watch as the doctor bandages his wound, reminds him not to engage in any strenuous activity while it’s healing. He sits patiently, glaring at you slightly and rolling his eyes any time the doctor speaks, which is fairly frequently. It’s clear only one of you wants to be here right now, and it’s the one of you without a scratch on your body. 

When the doctor leaves to tend to another patient, you get up from where you’re seated and sit down next to him on the bench, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Working for the Kingdom makes you stronger. Sitting in the cafe makes you think. But being with him, standing by his side, it makes you wonder. It makes your heart race and your mind clear. It makes you feel safe. 

“I think you saved my life,” you whisper softly, clutching onto him like a lifeline, like if you let go, one of you will drown. 

But that’s not the case. Neither of you will let go. Not without the other. Never without the other. 

“Really?” He asks. He already knows the answer. 

“No, I know you did,” you tell him. Things are different now, but maybe they’ve always been like this. You just never noticed. “Because in a heartbeat, I would do the same for you.”

♚ HERE ♚

“I have not seen Seokjin all day,” Jimin comments loudly one day, making everyone immediately turn to Seokjins’ desk, which looks practically untouched. His computer is asleep, his chair is pushed in, and his desktop is empty. The only thing that suggests that the man is even here in the first place is the messenger bag resting against the desk drawers, though it doesn’t look like it’s even been opened today. 

“Probably too busy avoiding you,” Yoongi deadpans, earning a “zing!” from Hoseok that makes you feel even more like you’re standing in the middle of a high school movie made by people who don’t know what high school is like. 

“Is he even in today?” 

“He is,” you pipe up. “His bag is here.”

“Of course you would know!” Taehyung teases, and he earns a highlighter to the face for his trouble. 

“He’s probably just trying to get his work done in a place that doesn’t consist of screaming and constant insults being hurled across the room,” Jimin says with a sigh, turning back to his work. It’s a fair statement, especially when the environment in your office is most often distracting, loud, and not at all an ideal work environment. It’s an absolute wonder that any of you manage to get your work done while you’re here. 

“Y/N, wanna go hunt him down?” Taehyung suggests, sending a wink your way as your eyes widen. 

“No, absolutely not, no way. I will not be tricked by you again,” you say, very reminiscent of the last time you went to go look for Seokjin and ended up with a coffee-stained shirt and a group of coworkers who thinks the two of you hooked up that one time. 

“If you say so…” Taehyung says, voice trailing off as he turns back to his work. 

But for once in your life, Seokjin’s absence is more noticeable than ever. He’s become a fixture in your everyday office life, always stopping by your desk with a second cup of low-grade office coffee for you (with a lid, of course), sending you emails complaining about Jimin and Hoseok when they’re being loud, asking you for help on every one of his difficult font decisions for logo designs, drafting emails to clients with you. It’s a sort of closeness that you never really had before—sure, you worked together and often got paired up for projects, but it’s different now. Like you jumped ship on being just colleagues but instead of drowning, you began to float.

Five more minutes pass and you pretty much resign yourself to getting back to your work, knowing that Seokjin’s probably just grabbed his laptop and found a place where he can work in peace and quiet without Hoseok’s shrill voice interrupting his thoughts. You’ll have to ask him what place he’s discovered. 

When there are four minutes left in the workweek and you are finally beginning to close out of the fifteen thousand tabs open on your Google Chrome window, the door busts open. 

It doesn’t actually bust open, so much as Seokjin comes flying through it and it slowly goes to rest on the padded door frame like it’s been designed to. His tie is loose around his neck like he’s been tugging on it all afternoon, his laptop is clenched carefully between his arm and his torso, and he’s got a flurry of papers freeballing it in a stack in his hands. 

“Oh my God, what tornado did you come from?” Jimin asks as Seokjin rushes over to his desk, cramming everything into his tiny messenger bag that definitely isn’t meant to fit a laptop and a stack of papers that thick. 

“Sehun just dumped an entire project on me that’s due on Sunday at noon with no warning, and now I have to pull together fragments of a crumbling magazine label before their final review on Sunday afternoon,” he says, terribly out of breath. He’s scrambling to gather his belongings, crashing into anything within a two-foot radius of him. 

“Dude, what the heck? I’m gonna tell Namjoon to kick Sehun’s ass,” Hoseok says with a frown, nose scrunched up. “Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m alright, I can do it,” Seokjin insists, rubbing a hand through his hair as he leaves before the clock has even struck five. 

“Are you sure? You look like you want to jump out of the window,” Hoseok asks again, just for clarification. He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Seokjin become so stressed in such a short period of time before. “At least let one of us help you get settled back into your apartment.”

To your right, Taehyung whispers into Jungkook’s ear, who then does this sort of weird hand movement to Hoseok, who nods understandingly. It looks suspiciously like they just plotted someone’s murder. 

“I can’t,” Jungkook says with an obnoxiously fake yawn, suddenly speaking much slower than usual, “I’m deadbeat tired.”

“Me neither,” Taehyung says, coughing in the way people do when they just want to get out of something. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

You whip your head around as everyone besides Yoongi comes up with an absolutely bullshit excuse not to accompany Seokjin to his apartment—Jimin says he has a date right after work and Hoseok says he needs to feed his puppy before he gets too hungry, leaving only you and a Yoongi that hasn’t been listening to the conversation whatsoever to vie for the spot. 

“Yoongi?” You ask, somewhat desperate not to be the one to accompany Seokjin to his apartment. You turn to your head to glare at Taehyung, who shamelessly coughs again when he meets your eyes, smiling guiltily. 

“Huh?” He asks, turning around. 

“Fine, you know what? I can come with,” you say with a sigh, already grabbing your belongings as Taehyung and Jungkook high-five next to you. 

“Oh, really? You’re a lifesaver, Y/N, you know that?” Seokjin says, and even when he’s stressed it’s like the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders once you volunteer, and you suppose that there are worse things that can happen than accompanying Seokjin to his apartment for ten minutes. 

Seokjin gives you the address of his place so that you can drive to it yourself, the both of you pulling into the parking garage underneath his apartment complex at the same time, waving to each other from adjacent parking spaces. 

“I really, really appreciate this, Y/N,” Seokjin says with a smile as he brings you into his apartment complex, nodding a friendly hello to the security officer in the lobby. “I know that it’s a Friday night and everything as well. You’d probably want to be doing something else.”

“Ah, yes, you know me, I frequent all of the clubs and bars in this city,” you say sarcastically as you walk into the elevator. Seokjin hits the button for the seventh floor and laughs. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. It was a dick move of Sehun to drop this on you when it’s due in, like, thirty-six hours.”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin says, exasperated as he leans back against the steel walls of the elevator. “I thought I would just get to go home this Friday night, pull up Netflix, and have a one-man movie night, but now I have to spend the next thirty-six hours doing this.”

“Well, you know all of us are just looking out for you, wanted to make sure you didn’t injure yourself from stress before you got back to your apartment,” you say as the elevator door dings. Seokjin leads you down the hallway to his door, sticking his key in and jiggling it until the door pops open. 

Admittedly, you have never been in Seokjin’s apartment, but you it was like you had already painted a picture of it in your head from his personality traits alone. You thought it would be fairly minimalistic, clean and neat, not too many flashy colors or kitschy items but things like photographs and magnets to make it feel like an office and more like a home. Pictured it as a sort of very simple, modern home, like the ones that celebrities live in because they can afford to keep their belongings clean all the time, because Seokjin looks exactly like a celebrity, gorgeous and put-together. 

Instead, Seokjin’s apartment is almost a hodgepodge of everything he could think to find to decorate, a stack of photobooks on his coffee table, slouchy leather couches wrinkled from wear, various kitchen supplies splayed all over his countertops. It’s the kind of place you can imagine him being in, existing in. You can see him standing behind his kitchen island with all of the ingredients and supplies for this wonderful dish he’s making littered across the counters. You can see him curled up on the couch, leaning against the corner of it to find that perfect spot, watching television. 

There’s a difference between owning a place, and living in it. Living in it makes it feels like a home, like it’s real, and not just for show. 

“Wow, your place is—”

“It’s really messy right now, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests,” Seokjin says, letting his messenger bag plop down on the ground as he scrambles to make his living space nicer for you. 

“No, I was going to say it’s lovely,” you tell him. “It feels exactly like you.”

“Does it?” Seokjin asks genuinely, a soft smile lacing his features. “Well then, thank you.”

You wait around in his apartment awkwardly, not really sure if stepping past the front of his couch is socially acceptable since you’re just “visiting” and he hasn’t officially invited you inside yet. The main objective of accompanying him to his apartment has already been accomplished: you made sure he got home safely and that he can do his work in peace. Finished. But even still, you’re hanging around, wondering when he’s going to kick you out for being a weird, unknown fixture in his home. 

“Um, would you like to stay for dinner? I made soup last night and I have way too much for me to eat on my own,” he offers, opening up his fridge and taking out an enormous pot. It clinks as it hits his countertop, the metal sound echoing throughout his apartment. 

“No, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say, taking this as your cue to remove yourself from the situation before you do anything else to make an absolute fool of yourself. 

“I insist, please,” Seokjin says, stopping you in your tracks. “I may have a whole project to finish by Sunday, but we should at least spend this Friday night together, right?”

You look down at your shoes before looking up at him, meeting his eyes from where he stands behind his counter island. 

“Then I will,” you say, removing your flats and padding over to where he stands, coming to a stop on the other side of the counter island. “But only if you let me help you with the project, too. It was asshole-y of Sehun to dump it all on you. At least let me handle some of the graphic aspects.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, reaching his hand out over the counter, “you have a deal.”

This deal mainly consists of you eating some of Seokjin’s homemade soup on his couches, your laptops on his coffee table and that ridiculously thick stack of papers spread out amongst you. Seokjin already has a fair bit of information about the project at hand, but he still has absolutely zero progress since he received the assignment four minutes before the end of the workweek. 

“So, basically, what we have to do is re-organize the magazine’s overall design and aesthetic before their final review on Sunday, because if they don’t appeal to the publisher, they’re getting tanked,” Seokjin says, paging through the papers in search of a sketch. 

“So we’re their last hope,” you summarize. 

Seokjin nods. “We’re their last hope.”

“Great,” you say, not at all enthused. “No pressure at all.”

“I know. I’m so relaxed right now,” Seokjin says, clearly not relaxed. 

“You know what’s making me relaxed? This soup,” you say, finishing the last of what’s in your bowl. “It’s delicious. I didn’t know you cooked.”

“It’s just a hobby of mine,” Seokjin says with a shrug. “I picked it up when I moved to college and didn’t know how to make anything except toast.”

“You’re a very fast learner, then,” you say. “I’d pay you to make all of my meals, honestly.”

“Would you like more? I have a ton, so we can eat it all if you’d like,” he asks, already standing up and reaching his hand out for your bowl. 

You hand it over, shaking your head as he makes his way back to his little kitchen, ladling more soup into both of your bowls. “You’re too nice, Seokjin. Seriously. How am I supposed to pay back this kindness?”

Seokjin lets out a warm chuckle as he warms up your next serving in the microwave. “Believe me, Y/N, volunteering to take on this project with me with a due date in less than thirty-six hours is more than enough. You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No,” you tell him. “I want to. You deserve someone who’s willing to help you with big things like this. You shouldn’t have to deal with it all on your own.”

Seokjin grins as he returns, handing you your bowl of soup as you get back to work. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N.”

What was supposed to be a couple of hours spent grinding out a project over a shared pot of soup turns into a night’s worth of work, scribbles on paper and the redoing of the same logo fifteen different times on your computer’s much slower, less-updated version of Photoshop. The application crashes on three different occasions, causing you to nearly slam it into the wall, but you just try to look on the bright side. Find the silver lining. Of which there are none. 

Seokjin doesn’t seem to be faring any better than you are. You’ve never seen the man under such pressure before, not in the office and certainly not while you’re out of the office. He’s tugged on a crewneck sweater over his dress shirt and paces around his apartment in bright pink slippers, brainstorming aloud as you bounce ideas off of each other in a panic. 

“What if we rebranded them?” Seokjin suggests wildly. When you turn to look at the digital clock underneath his television, it says 11:17PM. You’re surprised he hasn’t collapsed underneath the pile of work he’s got on his plate. 

“What do you mean? Do we even have the authorization to rebrand them?” You ask, pulling up a new tab on magazine marketing techniques. 

“The project description says requests for anything that will keep them afloat,” Seokjin says. He immediately opens an old photobook, buried underneath your laptops, sketches, and papers, flipping through before he sits down right next to you on his slouchy leather couch. “What if we gave them more of a minimalist kind of style? They’re trying to jump off of this super quirky, very basic Urban Outfitters kind of aesthetic, but I think it makes the magazine too young, you know?” Seokjin suggests. “We could do something more grown-up, attract their market audience.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” You ask, thoroughly interested. Maybe Seokjin’s onto something. 

“Who says we can’t?” Seokjin responds, and it’s good enough for you to hop on board. 

Sitting in his apartment like this, brainstorming different ideas and collaborating on logo designs, magazine layout, and website design together, you are more productive than you’ve been in a very, very long time. Even as the night stretches on into the early hours of the morning, as you watch the clock turn from 1:00AM to 2:00AM to 3:00AM, the two of you are wide awake, the only things illuminating his apartment being a floor lamp by his television and the blue light of your laptop screens. 

“It’s…” Seokjin yawns when it’s nearly four in the morning, pen slipping from his fingers, “so late.”

“I know,” you say back, feeling your eyelids beginning to sink. “I’m surprised we’ve even stayed up this long.”

“Haven’t been up this late since college,” Seokjin says, smiling hazily at past memories. “Always had code to finish for my class the next morning.”

“At least we get to sleep in now,” you joke. Even if you still have to finish putting together a brand new image for this magazine that’s about to go under, tomorrow is still a Saturday. 

“Thank God,” Seokjin says, resting his head on the back of the couch cushion, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I feel like we did a lot tonight.”

“We were very productive,” you agree.

He yawns. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” You ask, leaning over to move your computer from your lap to the coffee table, exchanging it for a sketchpad to keep brainstorming. 

“I think,” Seokjin begins, and it must be just the sleepy haze his brain has entered rather than anything else that could spur him to express this, that makes him say, “that you and I make a perfect pair.”

You sit up straight at this, looking over at Seokjin as the pencil in between your fingers falls onto the sketchpad before rolling onto the floor. It looks like he’s fallen asleep, exhaustion finally overcoming him as all of the work he’s done catches up to him. In the dead of night, the only sound in the room is his soft breathing, chest rising and falling slowly as his mind begins to wander. You watch him, eyelids heavy, and think that he couldn’t have possibly thought that. No way would he say such a thing to you if he was perfectly cognizant, wide awake. After all, you’re the one with a crush on him, not the other way around. 

You lean back, pondering why a man like Seokjin would ever invite you into his home, offer you soup, and shower you with subtle compliments that couldn’t just be friends being friends, and before you know it, your eyes fall shut. 

It is nearly one in the afternoon by the time you wake up, the sunlight streaming in from the side of his apartment. It forces you to finally open your eyes, groaning as your blurry vision begins to clear. 

That is when you register these four things in this order:

This is Seokjin’s apartment.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, in which you worked on a project with him last night.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and you fell asleep on his couch. 

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and he thinks that you’d make the perfect pair. 

You hear a clink from across the room, and turn to find Seokjin, still wearing the same thing he was wearing last night, standing in his kitchen, pouring two glasses of orange juice. 

“Morning,” Seokjin says. He pauses, then corrects himself. “Afternoon, actually.” He walks over to you, handing you a glass of orange juice as you rub your eyes, waking yourself up.

“How long have you been up?” You ask him, too tired to thank him out loud for the glass of orange juice. 

“About an hour,” he says, checking the time. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful.”

“I feel awful, I didn’t mean to intrude on your apartment for, like, an entire night,” you say, rubbing your forehead as you try to smooth out your hair, make yourself look less like you fell asleep at four in the morning in your gorgeous crush’s apartment. 

“No, it’s alright, really,” Seokjin insists. “It was nice having company, for once. And I think we got a lot done.”

“I still feel bad, I didn’t mean to stay so long,” you say, looking around for your belongings as you try to gather your bearings. 

“It’s fine,” Seokjin reassures you, sitting down on the couch next to you as he begins to clean up the absolute mess of the coffee table. “But your phone has been ringing nonstop, so someone must have missed you.”

You fumble around for your phone before finding it having slid in between the couch cushions, pulling it up to see three missed calls from Taehyung and two missed calls from Jungkook, as well as a slew of texts from the both of them. 

“Oh, it’s just Taehyung and Jungkook,” you say with a shrug, deciding that now is not the time to bring them into the conversation. A quick scan of the texts gives you a rough summary of what you would have heard if you had answered their calls instead. 

Taehyung (9:35AM): Y/N Taehyung (9:35AM): HELLO Taehyung (9:35AM): ARE YOU ALIVE??? Taehyung (9:36AM): YOU NEVER SLEEP THIS LATE ARE YOU OKAY??? Taehyung (10:03AM): I WENT BY YOUR APARTMENT AND YOU DIDN’T ANSWER IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT Taehyung (10:04AM): TEXT ME 1 IF EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND 2 IF EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY Taehyung (10:05AM): LAST TIME I SAW YOU YOU WERE GOING HOME WITH SEOKJIN DID HE MURDER YOU??????? Taehyung (10:18AM): oh Taehyung (10:18AM): oh wait Taehyung (10:19AM): OHHHHHHHHH Taehyung (10:20AM): ;)

Jungkook (12:18PM): Kingdom just started a new event! Get online with me and let’s crush this thing pleaseeeee

“Just want me to play Kingdom with them,” you say, ignoring Taehyung’s text messages and pretending like they don’t exist.

“You really like that game, don’t you?” Seokjin asks. 

“Oh, they like it more than I do, really, I just try and keep the obsession to a minimum,” you say casually. 

“But they always talk about how good you are,” Seokjin adds. “You’re ranked second, aren’t you? That’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that exciting. I mean, it’s just a game,” you shrug it off. 

“But you like it, which means that’s important,” Seokjin says. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of the things you like. They matter to you.”

“You think so?” You ask, smiling at him. 

“I know so. Tell me about Kingdom,” he urges, nudging your side. “Please? I’d love to know.”

And for once, you don’t just shrug it off and brand it as a game you play occasionally. You let yourself love that game, for all it’s done for you and your friends (even if you aren’t the best anymore) and your happiness, and you tell Seokjin about it. About how you started playing it when you were bored one day during work and saw a forum on it. How you got the rest of the office hooked on it as well, even if they were much more obnoxious about it than you are. How you go home after a long day of work and log on, letting yourself relax as you weave your way through the rankings and quests, finding solace in the familiarity of it all. You tell him why you love it, and why you probably won’t stop playing it for a long time, no matter what becomes of your ranking. 

“It was nice being ranked first, but I actually don’t mind whoever it is that’s taken over,” you tell Seokjin honestly. “Jungkook wants to hunt them down, but I think that, whoever they are, they deserve that spot. You know, I used to hate them because the top-ranked player gets all of the best rewards, but our characters have recently started to spend so much time together that I feel like they’d probably have fallen in love by now.” You chuckle to yourself. If life were a movie, everything would always work out perfectly.

“You do?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “They spend so much time together. Who wouldn’t, right?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Seokjin says, smiling. “I also have something to tell you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with anime, please. That is where I draw the line.”

“Don’t shame us,” Seokjin says, a hand on his heart like he’s been personally offended. Your eyes widen. “I’m kidding,” he says, laughing as you exhale, relieved. “I actually play Kingdom, too. I just wanted to ask you about it.”

“Seriously? All this time and you just pretended like you had no idea what it was?” you say in disbelief. He’s been hiding this from you for how long? God, the rest of your office is going to have a field day with this information. 

“I just wanted you to tell me about it,” Seokjin admits sheepishly. 

You shake your head. “You could have talked to me about other stuff, you know.”

“I know, but you never talked about Kingdom and I could always see how much you loved it. It was nice, listening to you tell me about it,” he says. 

“I’ve been betrayed,” you say dramatically, opening up your laptop to pull up the game. “What’s your ID? We can add each other.”

This is where Seokjin goes silent. “Actually, I think you might already know who I am. I’m above you in the rankings.”

Your mouth drops open. 

“You’re JK0901? Are you kidding me?” You ask, absolutely floored. All this time and you had no idea that Kim Seokjin was a Kingdom expert. “What does JK stand for? I was convinced it was Jungkook and he was just lying to my face, but in reality, it was you who was lying to me!”

Seokjin lets out a chuckle. “Jin Kim. I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out earlier.”

“I can’t believe this,” you say, practically speechless. “How long have you been playing?” 

“Not that long,” Seokjin shrugs. “I picked it up because I wanted to impress a girl I liked.”

“Really? All this effort for a girl you like?” You ask, still in disbelief. You suck up the way your heart is sinking at the thought of him liking another person, but then you remember that it wasn’t like you had ever made a move on him anyway. Smiling, you ask, “Will you at least humor me and tell me who it is?”

Then, Seokjin looks you dead in the eye, and says, “You.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he wraps a hand around your torso and pulls you into him, pressing his lips firmly on yours as you gasp into his mouth, body tensing up before you melt into his touch. 

It’s a quick kiss, nothing too crazy, but it overwhelms you nonetheless, leaves you gasping for air like you’ve been underwater this whole time and have finally surfaced. When you part, you look up into his eyes only to find that they’ve turned into crescents. He’s grinning down at you like he’s finally gotten it right. 

“You did all of that for me?” You ask. “How did you even know?”

Seokjin looks particularly guilty. “You’re not necessarily… that discreet, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, the heat already flaring in your cheeks. “Oh God, you knew?”

“It was fairly easy to figure out,” Seokjin admits. “But the good news is: I felt the same way. So, no harm done.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you say, curling into his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye. 

“You’re incredible, Y/N, you know that?” He asks, pulling you away from him just so he can get a better look at you. He’s standing in front of you, looking at you like this is what he’s been waiting for. Like all this time, he’s been waiting for you. “I’d do it all over again if it meant I could end up with you.”

“You would?” You ask, pulling him in for another kiss. There’s plenty more where those came from, but you’re already feeling greedy. Why wouldn’t you? If life was a movie, then wouldn’t this be the happy ending? 

“In a heartbeat.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[hummingbird-games]

Dev Blog #16

“Previously on Hummingbird Games...”

Demo update went live and the people responded enthusiastically! Well, the increase in downloads and lack of poor ratings has convinced me, so I'll run with it. 

I bought a gaming laptop!!! New laptop was a bad egg. After returning it and finding out I wouldn’t get a replacement, the current laptop went on strike. The shift key decided to be the new villain. But then my dad swooped in and defeated the evil!!

*insert cheering sounds and victory music*

Before the day was saved however, the rest of the character and outfit refs were sent to the sprite artist and I got excited all over again! (Before I remembered that I’d be coding the new sprites in. Me. All by my lonesome. Yep, get ready to see future random posts of me complaining again LOL)

PLAN OF ATTACK (Immediate)

New (to y’all) characters aside, I’m still cleaning up typos in routes which has led me to let time pass in between each pass because I’m still catching grammar mistakes, or a whole missing scene (yeah, oops), or implementing a new feature I learned and that’s simple enough to replicate. (right now it’s timed choices, feel free to glare at me now LOL)

Start working on the music + SFX. Mostly placing the tracks where I want them to go and going back later to do editing (like a fade in here, sudden stop there, and so on). 

HOUSEKEEPING (Affectionate)

Not that this surprises anyone but as long as I’m running the Twitter account alone, it will function only as a hype-guy for other VN games and creators + the official announcement center for Hummingbird Games release stuff. If you want up-to-date or in between news, Tumblr is the source. I will only engage in tomfoolery on here. Twitter will be “hey, demo release update with blah blah blah” or *reblogs various posts/games/memes from fellow developers*. Dats it. 

Have I shot myself in the foot when it comes to promoting myself, my brand, and my current project? Oh for sure, but it is what it is. Also I just don’t vibe with the bird app. I keep trying and trying and I always feel mentally taxed when I’m there. 

OH WAIT, THERE’S MORE??? 

Did you read or skim all the way to the bottom?? For all your hard work:

WE’VE REACHED 280+ DOWNLOADS ON THE DEMO!!! 

No, it hasn’t sunk in yet...

Here’s a thank you doodle 💛 (courtesy of @aelwen-art​) featuring the two people who know loooots of embarrassing crap about MC 😂 Secrets whomst???

Hope you guys have a great weekend and talk to ya soon!

- Gemini 

[annecoulmanross]

9. Tears

Another excerpt from Both Sacred and Dust for Terrortober2020 – today’s particularly niche offering is a gift for @kaserl​ – I hope you enjoy!

“Alright, would anyone like to translate the next several lines of ancient Greek?” Dr. George Hodgson asked. There was a deafening silence. Henry Peglar appreciated the fact that some things never changed; whether it was an undergraduate Latin 102 class packed with trust-fund kids who’d been studying the language since they were in prep school, or this tiny graduate Greek seminar full of PhD students (theoretically adept enough to be doing this sort of thing for a living), one thing always stayed the same: no classics student ever truly volunteered to translate of their own free will. Sometimes (rarely) an enthusiastic kid would agree to start out the day’s translation – or sometimes (much more often) someone would step up to translate because they had only prepared notes for the first section before giving up their studying in favor of catching up on sleep. But as predictably as the slow decay of the academic job market, one would reach the point in any Greek or Latin class where there was no one willing to translate without being nudged into the sacrifice. It usually happened sooner rather than later. Today, on the first day of Dr. Hodgson’s graduate seminar on messenger monologues in Greek tragedy, it had, in fact, happened “sooner.” Thomas Jopson, who was auditing (as an ABD – “All But Dissertation,” i.e. a PhD candidate in the last year of the program – Jopson had already finished his required seminars long ago), had taken the first seven lines of the final messenger speech in Euripides’s Iphigenia at Aulis, describing the sacrifice Agamemnon made of his daughter Iphigenia. No further volunteers, however, seemed likely to appear. Henry glanced covertly at his classmates, trying to see if he ought to fall on the proverbial sword himself. There weren’t many other students. Just Jopson, a few second years – Luke and Sam – and, sprawled at the head of the table, there was Hickey, wearing a grungy pink hoodie, his legs draped over the arm of his chair like he was hoping to create the impression of a slightly bored medieval princeling. Henry, watching Hickey chew on the end of a pen, decided that no help would be coming from that corner. “Dr. Hodgson?” Henry said, finally making eye contact with the professor. “I can translate the next chunk.” “Ah! Good!” Hodgson seemed relieved. “Why don’t you take it down to protheis in line 1550?” Henry nodded. It was only a few lines – four, to be precise. “Should I read the Greek aloud first?” he asked. Jopson had done so without asking, but Jopson read Greek aloud so smoothly that one hardly noticed the time it took. “Oh please do,” Dr. Hodgson replied. So Henry spoke the lines he’d been given. “Hōs d’eseîden Agamémnōn anax / epì sphagàs steíchousan eis álsos kórēn, / anastévaxe, kámpalin strépsas kára / dákrue, prósthen ommátōn protheís.”

Henry knew his Greek was uneven, stumbling, and entirely unfit to the meter for everything apart from Greek hexameter (which this, being tragedy, absolutely was not), but he did his best. “Very good, Mr. Peglar,” Dr. Hodgson said. “And will you translate that for us?” Henry nodded again. “‘But as– but when Lord Agamemnon saw’… er. Okay, kórēn is the direct object, so that’s ‘the girl,’ who is steíchousan eis álsos – she’s walking into the grove, the sacred grove where the sacrifice will take place. And epì sphagàs is a little troubling… ‘upon slaughterings’ doesn’t sound right–” “How many slaughterings?” asked Dr. Hodgson. “Oh!” Henry realized his mistake. “That’s a genitive singular. One slaughtering, just one slaughter. Okay, so she was walking into the grove ‘for the slaughter.’ And when she did that, ‘He – Agamemnon – groaned, and having turned his face away, he cried, and he put up his peplos in front of his eyes.’ So he hid his face with his robe.” Dr. Hodgson grinned. “Much better, Mr. Peglar.” Henry tried not to smile. He was always too easily pleased by any professor’s praise. “Now,” Hodgson continued. “Can anyone tell me why is this passage important?” The seminar room was deathly silent again, though Henry could tell that Thomas Jopson, beside him, had something to say and was in physical pain restraining himself from saying it. After a length of time that might be termed “decorous” (if one were being generous) or “awkward” (if one were not), Jopson broke the silence. “It’s a major art historical subject,” Jopson explained. “Cicero mentions the best-known painter who depicted the scene – Timanthes.” (Henry had learned, by now, that Jopson rarely passed up a chance to mention Cicero, no matter how tangential to the conversation it might be.) But this was apparently exactly what Dr. Hodgson had wanted, because he responded with a “Hear, hear!” and tapped his finger enthusiastically against the cover of the large coffee-table art book that had been sitting in front of him since class began. Henry had never been good at reading upside-down, but he could make out half of a title that read “Pompeii: Guide to the Lost–” before the professor opened the book to a glossy page already marked with a sticky note. “Iphigenia at Aulis,” Hodgson said triumphantly, as he angled the book toward Jopson. Henry could tell at a glance that none of this was new to Jopson, but Henry himself peered at the image. It showed what Henry assumed to be an ancient Roman wall-painting, preserved in the city of Pompeii by the eruption of Vesuvius.

This style of Pompeiian wall fresco was vaguely familiar – and Henry had seen some of these specific faces before: in textbooks, in user avatars on classics twitter, in memes made by professors trying to be cool. But something about the whole composition of the fresco was new and particularly striking. Henry’s eyes were drawn to the veiled figure off the side, with its hand over its face as though hiding tears….

[art-rica]

Hiya, just wanted to ask - and im not trying to be rude. Your last art piece seems very similar to Zephyo's (zehybite on insta) from 2019. I just recognised the striking similarity in composition, and was thinking if it was inspired by, or traced from, their work its probably better to be transparent about that. I like your art but I just noticed there was no credit for the inspiration! let me know if I'm out of line, but better to ask than stay silent imo. xx

Hey! I’ve never seen any of Zephyo’s work so I went to check their blog, and I can see why you would think so! I believe they look similar because it’s actually a meme based on this screenshot from beauty blogger Barbiegutz on Youtube. It was popular back in 2019 and people were doing redraws of it with their favourite characters. :) It recently made rounds again on Twitter again so I decided to draw it. I hope this clears things up.

[slothgiirl]

Y/N AND HARRY STYLES SOULMATE AU PART 3

It's been a month and you’re pretty sure that Harry’s your soulmate. It's stopped itching after that day, when you'd run into each other at a coffee shop. It had already been lucky to run into someone twice in a city of millions, and your luck hadn't held up.

While the letters on your wrist are still pretty blurred, you can make out the H and S, his initials.

You hadn't told anyone either, wanting to keep it a secret. It felt wrong to go about telling people when you hadn't had a chance to talk to the man himself. Not really.

It made for good material to work through in your art studio hours. All the worrying and what ifs and thoughts running through your head as you thought about reaching out on instagram in the hope that it would somehow get to him.

But then you didn't. Not wanting to have to explain and talk to whoever on  his team...of his people, handled that sort of thing.

Many celebrities got people claiming to be their soulmates. Hopefully young girls and boys who really wanted it to be true, who wanted their idols or celebrity crush to be theirs.

Or maybe you were just being old fashioned and letting things happen as they're meant to instead of blasting it on social media like some people did now, counting on the millions of people on social media to connect them.

It didn't matter.

You were fine with just seeing what happened. London wasn't that big. And you were still pretty young. And it might not be him.

Even though you knew in your heart that it was.

Between school, and work, and the little art our able to get done, you collapse in your apartment, Lydia already setting on your couch in a pair of sweats and old t shirt that might be yours actually now that you think about it.

“There's pizza,” she calls out to you, not looking up from her phone, smiling widely as she scrolls, “I think it's cold now but maybe it's like rice where it's less carbs when it's cold.”

“That sounds super fake and cold pizza is really freaking gross.” You utter, having almost died when she made leftover pizza and eggs together like it was an actual breakfast.

“I'm saving the planet by not using the toaster oven technically though.”

You snort, “wow I love an environmentally conscious queen.”

“So about that soulmate mark,” she says, smirking over at you from the couch, easy in your tiny flat while you pop a slice into the toaster oven.

“Don't want to talk about it,” you reply, already feeling the heat rise up into your cheeks.

“But you’re like the first person to get it!” She states, eyes practically sparkling with the idea. She'd never felt the annoying itch that made you scratch until your wrist turn red.

But even then you could feel the butterflies in your belly. It was easy to get lost in the idea of it all.

“Didn’t Pooja and Andy get it when they were still seventeen. Like months after the mark showed up!”

She shakes her head, looking back down at her phone in deep interest, “doesn't count because it happened before we met them. There's so gross together,” she finished fondly, sticking her tongue out.

“I'm going to tell them you said that.” You take a bite out of your reheated pizza, immediately regretting it when the hot steam burns inside your mouth.

“Anyway,” she says, “doing anything next Saturday?”

You shrug, “no. Don't think so. why?” It was your day from school and work. Ignoring all the work you should be doing for your classes. At least your thesis work was next year.

“Just wanted to make sure,” she says nonchalantly, “keep your day clear. We are going out.”

You laugh. There's never a day in which she doesn't want to go out and do something. “Okay. Do I get a say in it?”

“No, lets get lebanese at that one place by hyde park?”

Your mouth is already watering at the thought, “okay. I'm down, especially if we go to Hyde Park right after.”

“Deal,” she says, sitting up, “Now I'm going to go shower for the first time in a week.”

“Lydia that's so bloody disgusting,” you shout after her.

*

You're early. For once you hadn't been held back by anything but your own laziness after a long week. It was nice to have somewhere to be where you actually wanted to be, meeting up with Lydia like you too were still at college.

It wasn't like you'd lived very far from each other back home. And more often than not you'd ridden your bikes around town, resulting in more than a few falls.

You grab a table, order a mimosa while you wait like the semi functional adult you are because ladies who brunch order mimosas or so you've been led to believe. Plus it was bottomless, so it was a steal really.

As long as you drank your heart out. With Lydia you felt safe getting tipsy during daylight hours.

You scroll through your phone, answering texts and send some memes to people you knew were at work. Suckers. Laughing at the group chat for your ethics class now that you finally were actually reading through it. Andy was hilarious as usual.

When Harry walks in, wearing a tigre t shirt and loose pants in a flowery print, more bold than anything in your mainly neutral wardrobe, and raybans.

You swallow, heart speeding up at the weight of him walking through the door like something out of a romcom even though he can't be here for you. It's just a coincidence and yet you've never felt more nervous, the weight of it all lodged in your throat.

Your fingers brush against your mark, soothing the live wire of nerves under your skin.

He's walking towards you. It's unmistakable now but you can't see his expression underneath the black sunglasses. It strikes you as rude, that he hasn't taken them off. The sun's not even beating down hotly today.

You still haven't looked away.  Maybe that's why he's coming over. . .too say hello. Technically you do know him.

People say hello all the time.

“Can I sit down here,” he asks, coming to a stop in front of you, head tilted towards the empty side of the booth.

Predictably, you ramble in shock, “my friend Lydia's coming actually but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you sat here while you waited-are you waiting for someone?”

Harry slides his glasses off, hands still covered in a few large rings that somehow keep from looking overly tack on him. It must be the large hands.

The perfect kind for drawing really.

“Um,” he says, red staining his well defined cheekbones, “actually I'm meeting you…”

You raise an eyebrow, confusion written on your face.

Harry rushes to explain, flustered, “I had-I looked through a bunch of photos of me tagged on instagram and twitter and figured your friend Lydia might have uploaded and tagged me and then really hoped that she had her profile public,” he says, leaning over to you, bathing you both with an air of intimacy that you mirror as you study his features. The earnestness with which he's speaking to you clear in his mossy green eyes, in a way that paint could never mimic.

“and then I sent her a message and explained,” he trails off softly, looking down at his hands for a second, biting the inside of his cheek, searching for the words he needs.

You cover his hands on the table with yours, meeting his gaze head on. There's something so disarmingly kind about him that all that nervous energy you'd felt when he walked in had dissipated.

“Well I explained about what I think is...y'know maybe...it's too forward innit,” he utters, swallowing thickly as he meets your gaze, leaning back and pulling away from you, the warmth of his hands leaving yours. “I should've talked to your first not-not sprung this up on you.”

“No,” you tell him, “I was glad to see you again. Not that I wasn't also really freaking nervous but mostly glad.” The words feel true enough as you say them. So they must be true.

Harry relaxes against the table in relief, chuckling lightly to himself, looking over at you shamelessly, like he can't stand to lose another minute without you. Not when you might be-when you probably are-

You let out a deep breathe, “We should probably talk.” Someone should state it. Get it out of the way because there's no way you came all the way out here without getting one of your favorite dishes in london.

“We should,” he responds with a smile, small and hopeful and god wouldn't it be something if he is! This kind man who remembered you after a concert. Who went around london like any normal person might and didn't that say a lot about what type of person he is when he could be a complete arse given his fame.

“But first I’m going to eat and bore you with so much random bits of my Mayanist research paper I've yet to finish because I'm still pretending that it's not due next week and that time I had a popsicle made from zapote counted as research.” The popsicle had been interesting. The lackluster research results on your subject for this paper was not.  

It had almost made you change subjects. Almost.

There's flecks of caramel in Harry's eyes when the light hits them, laugh lines deep around his lush mouth as he smiles over at you. “Only if you’re alright with me interrupting you with questions every five seconds,” he responds.

You look away, trying to calm down the warmth spreading throughout you from being on the receiving end of Harry smiling at you, not because he was usually smiling, but because he was happy to see you.

It's then that you notice the quick glances over at your table, the awkward hold of phones in hands and remember just who this man across from you is. You press your lips together, resolving to ignore them.

“Deal,” you tell him with a smile, “now I welcome you to share in my ladies who brunch dream before I squish in as much work as I can get through tomorrow.”

He laughs and you smile because that was you. You made him laugh.

*

Harry is easy to talk to, which you knew from that day in the coffee shop and even that night when Lydia had asked for a picture with him and you'd so easily teased him. What you hadn't expected was how easy it was to slip right into that.

No nervousness or strain arose from your impending talk as you slipped on your drink and ate, talking between bites.

You tell him about a documentary you just watched which was more of a string of thoughts, the type to make any cinephile nod in delight. About your latin american culinary research as your paper focused on important plants during mayan times and how they had translated into modern times. “I mean most people the world over had had guava not to mention the super fruit that avocado has become.”

“Who doesn't love a good guac,” Harry muses. “Though as good as guava is there's too many big seeds. Can't hardly-” He stops.

You smirk, “finish the sentence Harold.”

He sighs already laughing to himself, resolved, “can't hardly swallow.”

“That's what she said.”

“Knew you were going to say that.”

He tells you about his recent trip to the states. To a big awards ceremony with Stevie Nicks who it's clear he adores in the way his voice goes soft when he talks about her. “People always tell you not to meet your idols but,” he shrugs, face glowing as he continues, “it's-she's cooler than I could've imagined and such a good person too. She was really great when I wanted to show her my first album. Gave it to me straight.”

You smile, “It's amazing to know that some people are deserving of all the trust and love that people have in them.”

You split the bill without a fuss, merging into the late afternoon crowd seamlessly, a world away from the weird half hidden glances over at you.

You don't know how he does it. It had set you on edge, an edge the mimosa helped dull.

“Want to go to the Natural History Museum,” you ask him, wanting somewhere that might grant some privacy to talk. Hyde park just seemed to open. And the V&A was always so busy.

“Do you know the way,” he asks, glancing down at you.

You nod and lead the way, easily navigating a street over and up, comfortable in the quiet that had descended around you both.

There was enough sun out now in mid april to warm your skin, a nice change after the winter months of layers and layers.

It makes the walk enjoyable. Spring’s and underrated season you think. Too many people get caught up in summer for school holidays and winter because of winter break but spring was where it's at.

“You come here often,” he asks, as you both aimlessly wander around the museum, passing by people too absorbed in the exhibits to look over at the man by your side.

“When I can,” you readily admit, “I still feel so lucky to live so close to so many amazing museums even if the collections were all stolen.”

He snorts, “your professors must love you.”

“Well my greek professor did not so much my lit prof because english lit is all dead white guys that I think are vastly overrated.”

Harry shakes his head, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, “and I want to hear them all no matter  how much I might disagree.”

You grin, “well how boring would it be if we all had the same options? I mean I won't budge on Hemingway but art is a dialogue isn't it?”

“And what dialogue does your art say,” he asks as you step into an empty gallery. You suppose that the bird taxidermy collection is hardly exciting when zoos exist.

“That we should talk,” you respond, turning to face him, intimately close, his chest inches from yours.

“We should,” he says carefully, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, solid and warm and your eyes flutter closed. You breath in the smell of him, like sharp clean leather.

“Is this okay,” Harry asks with great care, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, “yeah, I mean,” you pull away unable to think straight so close to him, turning so that your looking at some long dead puffin. “Did you think I might be-when we ran into each other at the coffee shop?”

You hold your breathe as you wait for him to answer.

Harry doesn't move toward you, sighing as he leans against a wall, chewing over his words, brow furrowed. “No,” he finally says, “I didn't. I just remembered you'd been nice and funny about the whole thing with Lydia and then I ran into you and thought it might be a sign from the universe we're meant to be friends so I figured why not and went over to talk to you. My sister tells me I've always been like that. Friendly. Making friends out of strangers.”

You exhale, smiling as you turn towards him, taken by the severity of his expression. His gaze is fixed on you. “I didn't think-not until later when I was at work and my mark,” you offer, nervously brushing your hair behind your ears, “it seemed like too big of a coincidence. I hadn't really bumped into anyone else who's name starts with an H.”

“You didn't reach out,” he states, void of any rapprochement.

“I wasn't sure how to go about these things and I,” you hesitate, “I was still thinking things over. I mean this is sort of a huge thing.”

The corner of his lips perk up, “can I see it?”

You blush furiously, excitement traveling up your spine, “yes.”

Harry moves towards you, closing the distance between you both. He leaves enough space between you both, a step apart. It feels like too much and yet your glad, you don't want to rush. If he's really yours you want to take your time, to get to know him first and foremost.

You don't even know if he's a morning person. Or if he spreads the cream on scones first or the jelly first.

You can feel his gaze tracking your hands as you pull the sleeve of your right hand down, revealing your soulmate mark.

A blurry but legible Harry E. Styles

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 6

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 4,036 for this chapter (25,168 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Dan has been wearing a line into the carpet of his hotel room, pacing back and forth for what feels like hours. He's muttering to himself, tugging at his hair whenever he gets especially worked up, and only spares a moment to consider what a weird image he makes for anyone who might come in.

"I'm gay," he says out loud, over and over, trying desperately to make it sound like it belongs there.

He rewatches Phil's coming out video a few times to remind himself how easy and happy Phil made it sound, but he can't seem to recreate that energy alone in his room.

No matter how many times Dan says it, the word 'gay' still makes his heart race and his gut clench like he's gone over the drop of a rollercoaster. His pulse pounds in his ears when he imagines saying it to another person, someone he cares about, someone who might hate him for it.

It's just a word. It's just a word, and it's basically who he is. It shouldn't be this hard to say.

His phone goes off with a Twitter notification, but he can't handle that right now. He turns his phone off without reading the message from Phil and keeps pacing.

--

"How did you deal with this for like twenty years?" Jaime complains, watching the rain fall almost horizontally outside the window.

"I didn't live here," says Dan. He steals some of her chips while she isn't looking.

"London wasn't much better."

They're holed up in one of the numerous tiny pubs in Dublin while they wait for Patrick to finish a solo interview and photoshoot. Dan likes it here, liked it in Edinburgh too, but he's been more or less working on autopilot. His mind is in a dog park in Soho, where Phil has been sending pictures from all afternoon. Pictures that he hasn't responded to.

"I like London," Dan says absently. He pretends not to understand the knowing look Jaime sends him. "What?"

"Sure, you liiiiike London," she teases, smacking his hand away from her plate.

"I do!" Dan huffs. "I always wanted to live in London when I was a teenager. It was, like, the dream. And I think it's probably still where I'll be ending up eventually."

"And a cute guy with a cuter dog has absolutely nothing to do with that?" Jaime asks, sipping at her beer.

Dan feels his stomach twist. It's not pleasant, having someone assume something about you, even if that thing is true. He looks down at his own hands and shrugs. "No, I mean. I'd want London anyway. I just kind of want it... more, now."

"You never actually answered my drunk texts. How long have you been together?"

"We aren't together, James," says Dan. His throat is tight with suppressed emotion. This is the first time he has spoken out loud about his attraction to a guy to someone that matters to him. It's fucking terrifying. "I - I like him, though."

"I can tell," says Jaime. She kicks at his shin under the table and smiles when he gives her a reproachful look. "Don't call me James, or I'll call you Dan."

With a snort, Dan steals more of her chips. "Fine."

They eat in a fairly comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of their plates acting more like communal food, and Dan almost thinks he'll be able to get away with the topic being dropped.

"He likes you too, y'know," Jaime says, bursting that hope. "In case you couldn't tell that he eyefucks you constantly."

Dan feels his face heat up and resists the urge to throw something at her. The server in this very Irish pub has been nice to them so far, but causing a scene as a Brit and a Yank doesn't sound like the best plan. "Shut up."

"I'm serious, Daniel," she laughs. "You really can't tell?"

"No," Dan says, affecting an annoyed sort of sigh. "I mean, yeah, no, I can definitely tell that he would be up for it if I asked."

"Why haven't you asked, then?"

He could tell her any number of half-truths, and she'd accept them as whole answers. Not wanting to fuck up their immediate connection, the whole ocean between them thing, or any other justification he's been muttering to himself while he paces around his hotel rooms.

The thing is, though, that Dan trusts Jaime. She's never told anyone any of the stupid shit he does when it's just them. Neither has Patrick, for that matter, but he's not here right now. And Dan doesn't think he can say this twice.

"Because," he says, swallowing hard and looking at the table. "Nobody knows I like boys. I don't even like to think about it too much, usually."

Dan can practically hear his heart pounding. He jumps a bit when Jaime's small, dark hand covers one of his, and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey," she says quietly. "I didn't mean to push."

"You're fine," Dan says, and he means it. "I kind of need to think about it now, anyway."

"Because of Phil?" Jaime asks. When he nods and looks back up at her, she smiles. "You seem good together. I've never seen you look so happy, Daniel."

"I don't think I've ever been this happy," Dan admits. His palms are sweating. "And I know I haven't, like, known him that long or whatever, but. Did you know I used to be a fan of his back in the day? He was kind of a role model for teenage Daniel. If I'd have known he was gay back then... I don't know. Maybe I'd have been able to admit that about myself, too."

The label doesn't actually leave Dan's lips, not applied to himself, but he still feels like he's got hundreds of eyes on him. It's just Jaime's, though, big and dark and kind, and he tries to breathe through it.

"That's a very brave thing to tell me," says Jaime.

"Sorry," Dan says, nonsensically.

Jaime laughs, a trill of a noise that makes the dim, rainy day feel brighter. "Oh, you're dumb dumb."

"Only sometimes," says Dan. He's fighting a losing battle with a grin.

"Do you want to be with Phil?" she asks, so blunt about it that Dan is at a loss for words.

He pulls his hand away from hers to play around with his phone, a nervous habit he's never really been able to kick. "I mean, yeah. I do. But it's really not that simple."

With a little hum, Jaime rests her chin on one of her palms. She's beautiful in a way Dan can appreciate beautiful art, beautiful clothing; she's not beautiful the way he finds Phil beautiful, the way he's found men beautiful for years and tried so hard to push away.

"I guess not, but I also know you pretty well by now, Howell," says Jaime. "You've never met a problem you can't twist into something worse."

A little rude. But very true.

"What do you suggest, then?" Dan snarks. "Tell the world I'm - and deal with the consequences of that? People back in Georgia already hate me for so much other shit, I doubt this will make it any fucking better."

"I suggest just being honest with yourself," says Jaime, ignoring the rest of his mini strop.

Being honest with himself is not something Dan has made a habit of doing. And he probably could live the rest of his life pushing this aside, stamping it down, lying through his teeth to the people around him, but. It sounds like a pretty shit way to live, if Dan is going to try the honesty thing right now.

He remembers how it felt to be leaning into Phil's space in the big hotel bed, remembers the way Phil had smiled at him every time he pulled Thor into a cuddle, remembers the deliberate circles Phil had traced on the back of his neck when they said goodbye at his flat.

That's something he wants. Dan is craving that, the intimacy and familiarity of it that he knows he'll never fully be able to feel with any nice, beautiful girls like Jaime.

He could probably do it, anyway. Meet a woman. Marry her. Have the kids he's always wanted. Maybe he'll even find someone who doesn't mind adopting so he doesn't have to live in fear of his child getting his fucked up genes. If he's very, very lucky, he might even find someone who doesn't mind this thing he's been keeping a lid on since he hit puberty.

The fear that strikes in Dan's heart as he imagines exactly what it would be like to keep living like this is what decides it for him.

"I don't want to," Dan starts, then stops. He has to think about his words and not just respond to his inner thoughts like a weirdo. "I mean... I don't want to lie. It's really, really exhausting. I just didn't have a good enough reason not to."

"So what are you gonna do?" Jaime hums.

"What d'you mean?"

"Are you going to come out, like, to the general public?" Jaime asks, and Dan appreciates the nonchalance of her tone. "Or just me and Phil?"

"I don't know," says Dan. "I think I'd tell Patrick, too."

Jaime smiles and pats his hand. "Oh, darlin', he was in that room, too. I think he has an inkling."

"I can't tell other people until I tell my family," Dan says like she hasn't interrupted. "It just wouldn't be right, y'know, them finding out because a friend of a friend saw a piece in The Sun about how much I like sucking cock."

A cackle is startled out of Jaime, and she covers her mouth with both hands. "Daniel!"

"What?" Dan does his best to look innocent, but he's cracking into a shit-eating grin before he can stop it. "That's what would happen!"

"Horrible boy," she says.

"I didn't do anything."

"Please don't come out to your parents by telling them you like dick," says Jaime.

Dan shudders. "Ugh. Can we never talk about my parents and dick in the same sentence again? Thanks ever so."

"You started it!"

They're still bickering when Patrick finally joins them, sliding into the booth beside Jaime and knocking his long legs against Dan's in greeting. "Did y'all eat already?"

"Yeah, you want something?" Jaime asks, handing over the menu they'd kept for him.

While Patrick looks it over, his fingers idly tapping against the thick wood of the table, Dan steels his nerves. He knows he doesn't need to do this, he's got no obligation, but he also knows that this is a safe environment and he might never do it if he procrastinates much longer.

"Shepherd's pie sounds good," says Patrick.

"I'm gay," says Dan.

"Okay," says Patrick, not looking up. "Or maybe a curry? D'you think it's good curry here?"

Dan blinks. "I said, I'm gay."

"And I said okay." Patrick looks at him then, raising his eyebrows. "Did you want me to scream or something? It's not like it's a big deal."

It's a big deal to Dan. It's a really big deal. But he's touched by Patrick and Jaime's easy acceptance anyway, trying his best not to get emotional in the middle of the pub. He wants to explain himself, wants to say that he's never said those words to someone before, wants to cry and hug them both so tightly because they're his friends and he cares about them, but that would be overdramatic even for him.

"Thanks," he says instead, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. "The curry sounds good, mate."

"It does," Patrick agrees, and that's the end of that.

--

As if he knows that Dan has been having his videos on for four nights straight, falling asleep to his voice and waking up twelve autoplayed videos later, Phil uploads a new video that night.

Dan is pretending like he's going to sleep, all the lights off and his laptop away and everything, because he's got breakfast radio in the very early hours of the morning and he wants to at least try to be a functional human during it. But then he gets a notification for Phil's new video while he scrolls through Reddit, and he clicks on it without a second thought.

"Hi guys," the Phil on Dan's phone says, grinning and waving. Dan's breath catches, just a bit.

That's the outfit Phil was wearing when Dan came over and watched MasterChef with him. He was in Phil's flat during the filming of the last couple of minutes.

Logically, he knows that he's been in Phil's home, that he's been behind the scenes of AmazingPhil in a way that he never would have dreamed he'd be able to. It still fucking rattles him, though. He pays more attention to the jump cuts in the video - where, most likely, Thor had been bugging for attention - and desperately wishes he could remember which one was for Dan, which slice of unused footage was Phil telling him he wanted Chinese food.

"So I guess I won't be going back to Seven Dials for a while," says Phil, wrapping up yet another story that Dan forgot to pay attention to. He starts doing his outro, tells people to subscribe and all that jazz, says goodbye, rolls that beautiful Thor footage.

There's still a minute left on the video. Dan thinks he knows why.

Sure enough, after a beat of a black screen, Phil has included a blooper montage of all the times Thor interrupted his story. It's adorable, watching Phil get tongue tied and giggly while Thor licks at his face or does the zoomies around the room. Dan's heart feels full to burst at how badly he wants to be there again.

Will Phil include it? Dan's breath is caught in his throat as he waits, watching Phil's face so carefully to see what it does when - if - he says Dan's name.

Phil's lips curl into a different sort of smile than the one he'd been giving Thor. This one is warm in a way that makes Dan's pulse pick up speed, even seeing it on such a small screen. Finally, finally, Phil says, "Dan. Are you growling at Thor?"

He sounds like he's trying to be stern, but he can't quite accomplish it with that smile of his.

Then, Dan's own voice comes through. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Phil's smile grows, gives him deep crinkles around his eyes. He looks so fucking fond. Dan doesn't think it's all for Thor. "I'm literally filming right now."

Dan whines, "He's just so cute," and then the video ends for real. Phil is smiling off-camera so genuinely, but autoplay is already suggesting another AmazingPhil video for Dan. With a resigned sort of sigh, he lets it play.

For about two weeks now, Dan has been figuring that, while Phil is a flirtatious guy who most likely wouldn't say no to a roll in the sheets, he doesn't actually have feelings for Dan or anything crazy like that. How could he, when they've known each other for such a short amount of time? How does Dan have all these feelings already?

But the way that Phil smiled when he was talking to Dan, and Dan wasn't looking back at him, is making Dan's head spin.

Fuck. He's got a lot to think about.

--

If people keep telling Dan he looks tired, he's going to snap.

He didn't get any sleep at all, really, his mind in fucking overdrive all night as he tipped over the box in his mind and let it all wash over him at once. He doesn't feel better, not yet, still exhausted and anxious and really, desperately not wanting to be sat in a radio station with his costars.

Unlike the BBC Radio One interview, this one is live on breakfast radio. Dan is trying not to think about that too much, or he's going to have back sweat all over his favourite shirt.

The shirt still smells like Phil.

It's distracting.

Dan hasn't responded to the Thor photos that Phil sent him yesterday or this morning, too wrapped up in his own brain as he's been. He hopes that Phil won't be offended, because - well, Dan isn't the best texter in general, he might as well get used to bouts of silence.

His leg is bouncing as Jaime establishes a rapport with the radio host, whose name Dan has been told at least a dozen times. Gun to his head, he could not recall it now.

He's too busy thinking about Phil. And maybe that's a mistake, unprofessional at the very least, but Dan can't help it. He can smell the faintest hint of Phil's cologne when he puts the collar of his t-shirt over his nose and his hands keep twitching, remembering what it felt like to be held by Phil's.

Mind completely full of Phil and lack of sleep, Dan can't really be blamed for not paying attention to his surroundings.

This is his excuse, anyway, when the radio host introduces himself again for the audience - in one ear and out the fucking other for Dan - and Dan's response, after Patrick and Jaime have said their names, is to say, "Hi, I'm Phil."

There's a beat of complete silence before Jaime breaks it, honking into her microphone and covering her mouth. Dan's brain catches up with his mouth, then, and he feels himself turn brick red.

"Daniel's been up all night," Patrick says dryly. "Apparently, he had to get three stars on Rainbow Road."

The idea that Dan didn't already have three stars on Rainbow Road is offensive, but he takes the life vest Patrick is throwing him. "Hah, yeah, sorry. I'm Daniel, and hopefully that'll be the most embarrassing thing I do today. I have a bit of a knack for it, if you didn't know."

Dan already knows he'll be clowned for this one for a while, judging by the sheer glee on Jaime's face, but he's determined to make it through the rest of the interview without forgetting his own name again.

Sure enough, they've barely said their goodbyes to the host and left the studio when Jaime crows, "'Hi, I'm Phil'? Holy shit, Howell!"

"I'm going to take a walk off a very short pier. 'Scuse me."

"It's not the worst thing you've ever done," says Patrick. His lips are twitching with either amusement or disapproval. Dan is guessing it's the former. "I mean, it's up there. But you've done way worse. Like do you remember the time -"

"That's not actually helpful," Dan says.

"Sorry, Phil," says Patrick.

Dan reaches for his throat with both hands and Patrick ducks out of the door with a bright laugh.

He's reluctant to check his phone the rest of the morning, because he can only imagine the cyberbullying he's going to endure from his fans over that slip of the tongue. Especially if they've already figured out that he was the 'Dan' at the end of Phil's video. Most people might not make the connection, since nobody really calls him that, but Dan has tweeted about Phil's videos and Phil has posted photos of them with Thor, so. It wouldn't take a fucking detective.

Once Dan's phone starts ringing with a call, though, he kind of has to deal with it. He's playing Guild Wars, so he puts the phone on speaker as quickly as possible. Only two people call him, so he doesn't even bother taking his eyes off the raid to look at the caller ID.

"Hullo?"

"Hi," Phil's voice comes through the tinny speaker. He sounds like he's already on the verge of laughter, and Dan considers hanging up.

Still, he's glad it's Phil calling and not his agent. Amy can be very intimidating, even all the way from Los Angeles, and he can't imagine that she's going to be thrilled about all the fuckups he's had on this leg of the tour.

Dan sighs loud enough to be heard through the phone. "Hello, Phil."

"Oh, am I Phil? I thought you were Phil!"

"Very funny."

"Or are we all Phil?"

The bright chirp of Phil's voice makes Dan smile despite himself. He narrowly avoids getting murked in the game because he's too fucking busy mooning over a boy. Christ.

"Are we human or are we Phil?" Dan asks, overly dry in case his smile shines through the way Phil's is.

Phil giggles. That's quickly becoming one of Dan's favourite sounds. He can practically picture the tongue between the teeth. "You big dork. How did that even happen? Like, walk me through your thought process."

"Isn't it abundantly fucking clear that I didn't have a thought process?" Dan whines.

"I was just wondering if you had some kind of explanation," says Phil. He still sounds far too amused. Dan wants to be annoyed about it, but he can't even pretend like a happy Phil is something he doesn't want. "Because you've done a lot of stupid shit in interviews, Dan, but you've never forgotten your own name before."

"Thanks," says Dan.

"Oh, you know what I mean," says Phil.

Dan shrugs even though he's well aware Phil can't see him. "I dunno, I didn't really sleep last night, and then being in a radio station made me think about you."

That's definitely a half-truth. Dan hasn't stopped thinking about Phil for almost two weeks now.

He'd been hoping maybe some distance would help. Weekend in Edinburgh, couple nights in Dublin. Perfect to get his head on straight - or, not straight, as it happens - and start separating his feelings for Phil from the all-consuming endorphins of fast friendship.

If anything, though, being physically away from Phil has only drawn attention to how badly Dan wants him to be there. Hearing Phil's voice when they're on different islands is just solidifying those feelings into something not easily removed in Dan's chest.

"You were thinking about me?" Phil asks, and he sounds so warm, even as he's making fun of Dan.

God. Dan wants to be there. He wants to see the way Phil's eyes crinkle with his smile, wants to feel the weight of Phil's cool hand in his own.

They've still got another night in Dublin before they can head back, but. There's only one more interview, surely nobody will miss his awkward presence that much?

Dan checks the time as soon as he finishes his raid. It's barely noon. He bites his lip. The whole day is still ahead of him.

Is he really thinking about doing this?

"Maybe," he says. "Hold on, I need to - do something. I'll text you. Like, I'll actually text you."

"Okay," Phil agrees, sounding a bit bewildered but still just as cheerful.

"I promise that I'll text you," Dan says. He's really, really bad at texting people back at the best of times, let alone when he's in the midst of a proper existential crisis, but he'll have a lot of time with nothing but his phone when he's - hopefully - sat at the airport.

"Okay," Phil says again, even warmer.

It would take no effort at all for Dan to get lost in that voice, but he's a man on a mission. Provided that Jaime and Patrick are okay with it, he's going to skive off tomorrow's interview and head back to London early.

He won't even try to pretend it isn't for Phil. He's got to ride this deep-seated certainty as far as it'll take him. And it isn't going to be like a movie, he isn't rushing off to the airport to catch his one true love or anything like that, he just. Misses Phil. Wants to be with Phil. Maybe he'll kiss Phil, but that's as rom-com as he plans to get.

"I'll see you soon," says Dan. "I have to ask Jaime and Patrick something."