#bagel’s train of thought

[anderscim]

✦ a really old minitheory about jax that had been left in my drafts for nearly a year

title is pretty self-explanatory.

// spoilers for the pilot episode of TADC

so, this is actually an old theory that i had created back when the pilot first came out—but i decided that it’s worth sharing now. basically, it summarizes what i think could possibly be a reason behind our favorite rabbitoid’s behavior.

take everything with a grain of salt. (^^)

this might sound like a weird place to start from, but i swear there’s a line of thinking behind it—what could be some of the reasons that a character abstracts?

at the very least, we know for sure that abstraction occurs if a character’s mental state entirely collapses—which could happen for a myriad of reasons. mental breakdown, existential crisis, you name it.

however, the most important effect that comes with abstraction is that they completely lose their sense of identity—which is also shown externally with the abstracted character’s appearance.

this led me to think that a possible reason for abstraction could also play into identity—whether that’s losing it, somehow messing with it one way or another, or, in a crazy scenario, doing something (aka recovering original memories, for example) that would cause them to clash with their current identity. things like that. obviously there’s some very strong theories out there as to what could also be other reasons for abstracting, but for now i’ll stick with the simpler explanations.

okay, but what does this have to do with jax?

basically, i needed to set up the previous context in order to be able to explain a possible reason for jax’s… jacka$$ery. yeah. that works.

as far as i can tell, it looks like he’s essentially being mean to everyone else just for the sake of it. from (allegedly) placing a centipede in ragatha’s room, to constantly bullying gangle, to pretty much every snide comment in general—it seems that he’s completely cemented his role as the “mean guy” of the series. but what if that was his goal?

the reason why i partly discussed identity in the abstraction section is because, to me, it seems like jax is setting up his own identity as the rudest and most chaotic character in the cast as a way to ensure his survival in this digital world for as long as possible. or in other words, this identity of his is something he can consistently fall back onto no matter what happens, which allows him to keep his mental stability a bit better than others. it’s a simple role that was developed only within the context of the digital circus, and he seems completely comfortable with staying in it.

additionally, here are some other circumstances where he could just fall back on his “identity”— - something bad happens to him? sure, let’s call it karma. - in the event that he does something that causes a bit too much destruction? it’s fine, he’s supposed to be the guy that would do something like that anyways. (edit: he did exactly this in episode 2. just my luck. help me.) - hurts someone on accident? wouldn’t be out of the question. maybe even intentionally if the time calls for it.

overall, it feels like his current place as the “rude character” makes it a lot easier for him to stay consistent and keep things less complicated. being nice is difficult and nuanced, you may unintentionally hurt someone by saying the wrong thing—but if you’re already known to harm people one way or another, there’s absolutely no mistakes you can make.

and for jax, it’s a way to keep himself grounded while causing a ton of chaos on the side—which he seems to like doing, so it works. this is pretty much a foolproof method of survival for him; at least, until something happens which he doesn’t expect.

but this is all just speculation. feel free to chime in with some of your own insights (´∀｀*)

———

edit: yes, this is pretty old haha. but i think it still somewhat holds true for episode 2, so i’m posting it for now. would be kinda funny if i was entirely wrong about this though (￣ ￣)

[anderscim]

wait.

let’s go back to the first footnote:

so that’s why david isn’t in there.

(it could be referring to the fact that this song is from his perspective, so in the lyrics david would be referred to as “I,” not “you” or “this person” or “that person”)

(i’ll make a full analysis on this later)

SOLVED CROSSWORD IN NEW DRDT MV

GO WATCH THE NEW DRDT MV PLS >:D

so hey i just watched that mv and slowed down to this frame of a crossword so i solved it :D

uh things to note

Teruko is number 13 ofc

there is no david on this crossword, but only mai can fit

[blastlight]

THEY GOT EGG LORE HERE LET'S GOOOOO

[awetistic-things]

genuine question 👇🏼

why are there no parking lots in nyc? i get there's no space in the city but even near parks they have like 8 spots max like i just am so confused 😭

[spinningbagel]

This is like,, a silly post and isn't at all needed to know for the stories but I was thinking about what everyone would get for breakfast for some reason? (It's quarter to 10pm, nowhere close to breakfast so idrk where this has come from!) but anyways.

Daniel: He's a French toast dude, devours that shit. Usually has it with an absurd amount of maple syrup. ("The Canadian of the syrup cancels out the French of the toast!" "...You know French Canadians are thing...right?" "FUCK") he'd also drink lattes religiously.

Andrew: I think he'd also get dragged into eating French toast (less syrup on his) but would enjoy a good bagel (MY HEAD/j) as well, would have a coffee with a decent amount of milk & sugar

Ray: He'd have a breakfast B.L.T and black coffee. Can I explain this, no? But she's my character so whatever I say goes/lh

Jack & Mimi: Pancakes. You cannot say otherwise, they'd have pancakes, going the full nine yards with it too, syrup, berries, ice-cream, sprinkles if they beg Andrew (he's responsible for acquiring food each morning). They'd also have lil hot chocolates, nothing too big, they're hyper enough as is.

Ace: Toast and an energy drink, Andrew absolutely gets on their case about it but like. She just doesn't care 🔥 ("You can't have that. That's not breakfast." "TOO BAD OLD MANN")

Luke: They just have bacon and scrambled eggs with a black coffee (they deal with Ace, they need it.). Usually has much larger proportions to everyone else.

Lin: Toasted ham & cheese croissants with some tea 🔥🔥

Kathrine: Has really sweet coffee- much to the surprise of everyone ("yknow I didn't think you'd have a sweet tooth Kathy!!" "....We've barely talked..I'm not surprised you don't know.")

Ringmaster: ..Bugs probably.../hj idrk he'd probably eat toast and drink cappuccinos.

So yuh! That's what everyone would have for breakfast (in my humble opinion) there is..no reason for this to exist. But it does!!

[anderscim]

hey! so, similarly to @/fuji-iri, i originally thought the closest guess we had to what was 256 words was the hamlet soliloquy.

however, i think i just found a much more probable answer to this hint.

i decided to look back at the lyrics “異常心情世界は踊る” (the world of abnormal sentiment dances), and see if there was any other sources where it showed up. and according to some sources—this is a reference to one of karasuyasabou’s older songs, “jabberwocky jabberwocka” (which can be found here). the same lyric can be found with a similar melody.

out of curiosity, i decided to look at the word count of the romaji lyrics based on this source: and sure enough, it’s exactly 256 words. (i’m not sure about the word count for the english translation. feel free to look at that as well)

i’m not sure what to do with this information, or how this relates to the code in the footnote, but i hope this could at least help!

Is anyone still trying to figure out the final code on the MV? The one with (the world of abnormal sentiment dances)? No judgement, I have no idea what's going on with it either, but I'm surprised there's so little discussion of it. I’m making this post to share some observations, and some of the things I’ve tried as I go insane over this MV. Warning, don’t expect anything too revolutionary.

+First, the code doesn't have a direct parallel in the original LGI MV, so no clues there.

+But I did find something possibly peculiar. You know the "find the 'n'" bit that shows up right after it? Well, it's lifted straight from the original LGI video, but the symbol you're supposed to find there is somewhere else.

That's the equivalent from the og LGI.

And there's the n. It's in a completely different spot, which makes me wonder if it's somehow related to the code. The n does pretty much coincide with a number of the images. Here's a transcription of the numbers, with the numbers related to the n in blue (you should still check I didn't fuck anything up though). Italics and bold means I'm not completely sure about the number.

1 4 6 3 1 4 8 4 2 6 8

1 7 3 7 4 1 0 2 0 1 4

3 0 3 6 4 5 1 1 7 5 9

2 3 3 6 8 6 3 6 2 7 8

9 3 0 4 0 4 9 2 3 7 4

3 0 8 2 4 3 6 7 7 2 0

6 9 7 0 5 2 1 7 3 2 6

&

4 3 6 0 7 8 8 6 5 0 3

7 1 8 8 1 1 5 2 5 7 9

8 7 6 4 3 2 1 6 8 6 4

9 5 6 2 8 0 7 1 3 5 3

0 8 5 9 5 6 3 3 0 7 1

7 5 8 1 4 9 8 3 7 5 2

9 1 4 4 4 1 0 0 5 2 6

Does it mean anything? Hell if I know! I have no idea how any of this works!

+Perhaps a more out there possibility is the changed alphabet. I've mentioned it before, but there's a point in the David MV where a modified alphabet shows up.

In case you can't tell, not only are letters listed in both capital and non-capital form, the alphabet ends W-U-X instead of W-X-Y-Z. This changed alphabet is not in the original LGI.

This is the equivalent scene. You can see it's perfectly fine, and as far as I can tell (aka: zero Japanese, just the translation and vibes) the letters aren't listed twice. And this is the video the David MV is based on, there are a lot of similarities.

This would imply, in my mind at least, that the alphabet was changed for a reason. I've seen it interpreted as another sign David doesn't see himself as human, as he doesn't even use the same alphabet, but it feels like a weird way to go about showing that to me.

So, uh, if you're trying something, and some words don't look right, maybe this can help?

+I have no idea what footnote 14 is supposed to be. "Hint: word length of 256". I've seen it suggested that it relates back to Hamlet's "To be or not to be" thing, but... while I think I did see one source with 256 words once, the word count is highly inconsistent throughout the internet, and almost none of them have it as 256 words. I checked with wordcounter.net.

-Wikipedia: 275 words.

-Poetry Foundation: 259 words.

-Poets.org: 276 words.

-Nosweatshakespeare: 275 words.

-Representative Poetry Online: 265 words

-Shakespeare Resource Center: 261 words.

-Litcharts: 273 words.

See the issue here? And now I don't have any idea what footnote 14 is. Here's some other things that it isn't.

+Literature Girl Insane: >256 words.

+Colored lyrics in the MV: ~190 words

+Lemon: Way more than 256 words

+The part of lemon in the MV: 113 words.

+The defense of Socrates: Way more than 256 words.

+The defense of Socrates, but only the part in the MV, and extended to the next end of sentence: I want to cry. 257 words. 257. One off. Why? Why are you like this? Please, someone check the fucking text and tell me I accidentally pasted in a word I shouldn't have. PLEASE-

+That part of the Little Prince in that one part before the tally 5 code: 198 words.

+Undefeated by the Rain poem: 139 words (in English Wikipedia, or 180, in the English translation found in Spanish Wikipedia, because my life can't just be easy so apparently the English version of the poem is different in different languages of Wikipedia what-)

+Just the correct/incorrect code: The most is 247 characters, if you include "correct13" and "incorrect".

+Yamanashi, the story "kapukapu" comes from: Thousands of words.

I didn't check anything else, but I can't for the life of me find what this is referring to. And it feels important, seeing as it's on the goddamn equal sign. Maybe it’s one of those excerpts from that part of the MV right before the “correct/incorrect” code? I don’t know.

If it helps, I’m pretty sure the code’s going to translate to something related to Xander, seeing as his numeral flashes on screen right before that. And because of that, it’s possible this 256 word thing refers to some kind of revolutionary speech or text or something the like.

How would the footnote matter? Well, you know the ampersand symbol (&) that shows up between the numbers?

Maybe, if we put the numbers on both rows together:

14 43 66 30 17 48 88 46 25 60 83

17 71 38 78 41 11 05 22 05 17 49

38 07 36 64 43 52 11 16 78 56 94

29 35 36 62 88 60 37 61 23 75 83

90 38 05 49 05 46 93 23 30 77 41

37 05 88 21 44 39 68 73 77 25 02

69 91 74 04 54 21 10 70 35 22 66

Then reference whatever text is 256 words long, we can assign each number a word. Possibly, we would only start where the n appears, just to give that some meaning.

Like, here's what you get if you do that with the Wikipedia version of "To be or not to be", starting with the 05 the n represents (starting from the beginning gives you a completely nonsensical message, I didn't even go all the way).

to - sleep - to - and - dream - of - against - to - die - opposing - to - that - and - no - them - consummation - to - to - fortune - be - devoutly - death - die - not - the - and - question - to - and - arrows - ‘tis

Like, that almost sounds like it works, but obviously we would need to find the actual text of 256 words, which isn’t the Wikipedia version of the Hamlet speech. I also tried with the Socrates text, but I don't think it works (from the n you get, like, "O - but - O - word - ashamed", and that's going to be in there even if you start from the beginning).

I also tried some kind of alphabet cypher thing, both with the regular alphabet and with the modified alphabet, and while I would like second opinions on account of my skill issues, I didn’t get anything.

If that’s not what the ampersand is for, here's what you get if you add the numbers together instead of just putting them next to each other:

5 7 12 3 8 12 16 10 7 6 11

8 8 11 15 5 2 5 4 5 8 13

11 7 9 10 7 7 2 7 15 11 13

11 8 9 8 16 6 10 7 5 12 11

9 11 5 13 5 10 12 5 3 14 5

10 5 16 3 8 12 14 10 14 7 2

15 10 11 4 9 3 1 7 8 4 12

It looks like it could be translated to hex almost perfectly, with the 16s possibly just translated to 10s, but I don't know what to do with it. I tried converting to hex and just putting it in as a Tumblr image URL, but nothing. Though there’s a chance I just didn’t do it right, I guess. I even took the first part up to the "n" and put it in th goddamn tally 5 page just in case it did something, but no. I tried the "word association" thing with the Hamlet thing as well, but nothing. Also tried alphabet cypher, even with the modified alphabet, and nothing. But again, any cypher cracking I tried to do should be taken with a grain of salt, since I’m a bit of an idiot at it.

One thing I didn’t do, simply because I don’t know how to, is try to use column cyphers. You can look them up and try them yourself, but I sorta doubt that’s the answer.

Finally, it’s a possibility “world length of 256” is actually some kind of cypher key. Like, not whatever it’s referencing, just “word length of 256” as a key. I severely doubt it, but if anyone wants to try it, be my guest.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I kinda just wanted to tell someone, I guess. I’m going insane over most of the MV anyways, might as well share a bit of the madness. Also because of the content drought caused by me working on the MV video which is coming I promise but it’s going to take a while-

Anyways, thanks for reading my inane ramblings for so long! Take care!

[wosoarsenalwfc]

my car is replaceable, ur not

steph catley x reader

summary : renee has finally given you guys a day off and you need to do some grocery shopping. steph rather play fifa then come with you. you take her car and on your way back from the shops, you get into a car crash and lose consiousness. hospital calls steph and when you wake up your more worried about damaging stephs car then yourself.

warnings : car crash, hospital, unconsiousness

Renee had finally done the impossible, she had granted the arsenal wfc team a full day off. No training, no meetings, no recovery sessions. Just 24 glorious hours to do absolutely nothing, which, in your mind, translated to: groceries. The fridge had been empty since the last away trip, and you'd been surviving off protein bars, takeaways and questionable leftovers (Steph called them exotic cuisines but both you and your stomach did not appreciate eating a peanut butter and pickle bagel) for three days now.

You were halfway through putting on your sneakers when you looked over at Steph, who was lounged across the couch in sweats, deeply focused on a game of FIFA, looking extra huggable. She didn’t even glance up when you called her name.

“Steph, come with me,” you said, grabbing your keys. “I have to do a big shop. Help me carry stuff with those big muscles of yours?”

She waved a hand lazily, though you could see her tense up to show her muscles.

“Babe, I just got Foden, I can’t abandon him now.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. This was typical. “Fine,” you sighed as you walked out the door, taking Steph's car keys, instead of yours.

You didn't realise however until you spent 10 minutes trying to open your car with Steph's keys, failing to realise that it was the car behind you that kept lighting up. Oh well you thought, Steph would never know and plus, Steph's car always smelt like her perfume (and occasionally Calvin's shampoo). You got into the front seat and backed out of the garage.

******

You had just finished loading the last bag into the trunk when the traffic light turned green, and you turned out of the parking lot. The intersection was quiet, your windows down, your mind drifting to what snack Steph was definitely going to steal from the bags.

You never saw the car speeding through the red light.

The sound was thunderous—metal twisting, glass shattering, a moment of pure chaos before the world went black.

*******

Steph had just scored a beautiful goal in FIFA when she realised you had been gone for more than 4 hours already. Worry and panic ran through her and suddenly her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

She almost didn’t answer, but something in her gut told her to.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Stephanie Catley?”

“Yes…”

“This is St. Benjamin's Hospital. We have someone here listed with you as their emergency contact, they were in a car accident. (y/n) (l/n),”.

Her world stopped as she ran to find her car keys but they were no where to be seen. Sighing, she picked up yours, not yet figuring out that if your car was in the garage and hers wasn't, you had taken hers.

******

You opened your eyes slowly, the harsh white hospital lights making you squint. Everything ached. Your head, your side, your legs. But you were breathing.

Someone was holding your hand—tightly. You turned slightly and saw Steph, her eyes red-rimmed, face pale, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Hey,” you croaked.

“Jesus, you’re awake,” she breathed, a shaky laugh escaping. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You blinked at her, groggy. “Wait… the car. Steph—your car. I’m so sorry.”

She looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “You nearly died and you're worried about my car?”

“I'm so sorry, I accidentally took your keys and I wasn't bothered to go grab mine and plus your car smells like you. I'll pay for the insurance or a...” you ranted.

Her face broke into a soft, wet smile and she kissed your pout and interrupting you mid sentence. “You’re an idiot, my car is replaceable, but your not”

“I'm your idiot,” you whispered.

She leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Damn right, I'll go get the nurse now,".

And with that, she walked out the room, not before pecking your cheek and squeezing your hand again.

[harrysfolklore]

ring hard launch - blurb

the content we got today just SCREAMS fiancé!harry for me so i came up with this, enjoy !

gif by @sunkissedlouis <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If there was something that was definitely at the top of your list of favorite activities, was spending time with Harry.

It didn't matter if it was getting groceries, joining him for a bike ride or simply laying on the couch together, every moment that you spent together brought you contentment and joy that you couldn't find anywhere else.

And now that he was your fiancé, it was safe to say that both of you wanted to be glued to each other every single minute.

Harry proposed the morning of New Year's Eve, in the comfort of your home with both of you in your pajamas as you enjoyed homemade breakfast bagels, and it was absolutely perfect.

Ever since, you had been happier than ever, sharing the news with your family and closest friends and enjoying your engagement in private without prying eyes from paparazzi, fans and media.

"We better win tonight," Your train of thought was interrupted by Harry's voice, you were currently heading to the Luton vs Man United game, and even though you couldn't care less about football, your need to be close to him all the time made you say yes when he asked you to join him, "Thank you for tagging along, baby. I know this is not your scene so it's nice you came."

"I'm just here for the drinks and snacks," you teased, watching him roll his eyes at you, "And to enjoy the evening with my handsome fiancé, of course."

"There we go," he smiled now, grabbing your hand and placing a small kiss to the ring on your finger.

Ever since you got engaged, that had became his favorite habit, and it made your heart flutter every single time.

"It sucks that I have to take it off," you said, making him look at you with a raised eyebrow, "The ring, I mean. I have to take it off before we get out of the car, otherwise headlines will go crazy and Jeff is going to freak out."

"Mm-hmm," he paused to think, eyes darting for the road to you, "What if... you don't have to take it off?"

"What do you mean?" you said, noticing that you were about to enter the back of the stadium.

"I mean..." he grabbed your hand again, tugging the ring affectionately, "What if we let the world know about it? I talked to Jeff and the rest of the team last week, they said we could make it public whenever we felt like it, at our own terms. So why don't we do it today?"

Harry parked the car at the spot that was reserved for him and turned to look at you with a wide smile, waiting for your answer.

"Are you sure?" you smiled back at him, noticing the glow in his eyes that almost made you melt.

"Couldn't be more sure, love. Besides, the album is coming soon and everyone is going to connect the dots as soon as they listen to the first song, might as well give them an early heads up."

"Let's do it," you said, leaning over to kiss him, "I feel like everyone is going to focus on the fact that you're finally outside and with brand new hair, they won't even notice the rock on my finger."

Harry rolled his eyes again and gave you another kiss, "I swear to god, woman. You're something else."

You headed inside of the stadium to the VIP suit you were going to watch the game in, walking hand in hand with your engagement ring glistening on your finger, cameras around filming and taking pictures of both of you.

"Do you think twitter is freaking out yet?" you asked Harry as you settled on your seats.

"No idea, baby, I don't use that app," he shrugged, "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Would you get me something fruity that has alcohol that doesn't quite taste like alcohol? That's the only way I won't be bored to death."

"Sure thing." Harry laughed and kissed the side of your head before standing up to get your drink, coming back a few minutes later with exactly what you asked and a bottle of sparkling water for himself.

"So we're rooting for Man U, right?" you asked as you took a sip from your drink.

"Seven years together, months away from getting married, yet you still don't know I'm a Man U ride or die," he put a hand on his chest, "I don't think this is going to work."

"I was just teasing, drama queen," you pecked his cheek, "I know your true loves are Man U, the Green Bay Packers, peas and Fleetwood Mac."

"And you," he winked, making you roll your eyes with affection and take another sip from your drink.

A few minutes into the game, you found yourself quite invested on it, constantly asking Harry about the stuff you didn't understand and getting nervous when the other team was about to score or your team missed a goal.

"Lord, I don't want to watch," you said as a player from the opposite team was getting ready to hit a penalty, hiding your face against Harry's shoulder, "Harry! You're supposed to be watching the game, you've been staring at me for half of it now."

"Sorry, you're just too cute," he kissed the crown of your head, "You can watch now, he failed it."

"Thank god."

By the end of the game, you were both on your feet, cheering as Man United secured a win. Harry was ecstatic, and you found yourself caught up in the excitement, cheering alongside him.

While you were engulfed in your own bubble during the game, cameras has caught up on the ring of your finger, and Harry and you immediately became a world trending topic, with fans speculating whether you were actually engaged or not.

As you laid in bed scrolling through the millions of tweets about the game Harry finally emerged from the bathroom, ready to get in the covers.

"Are you reading about us?" he asked, sliding into bed beside you.

"Yeah," you replied, showing him some of the tweets, "But I don't think it was quite clear for some of your fans, some of them don't think we're really engaged."

"Well, I guess it'll be clear when the album comes out."

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 3: Maison Noire

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: I'm not too sure about this chapter lol. I hope you love it though! Also, our girl isn't gonna stay in the dark place, I promise! xx Elle

Warnings: Flashbacks featuring emotional abuse, verbal abuse, domestic violence, gaslighting, manipulation, low self-worth, abandonment

Word Count: 2.3k

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi was so exhausted she could feel it in her bones.

After her meeting with Mr. Smith, he decided to keep her there like a scolded child.

“You embarrassed me, Ms. Fudd. We don’t reward insubordination at St. Paul’s.”

Azzi held back the replies she wanted to give. He didn’t want teachers who thought; he wanted obedient little soldiers. Azzi was everything he hated: young, female, and unafraid to speak her mind when needed.

"You asked for my opinion, Mr. Smith." Azzi said tightly. "It doesn’t make sense to punish a child for standing up to bullies. It’s literally what we teach them to do."

Azzi was dismissed with a warning to not let anything happen again and the recommendation to “keep a better eye” on her students. She knew the real reason for his anger. Paige Bueckers – a lesbian and single parent – had embarrassed him by refusing the back down and enroll Soleil in a different school.

Azzi stepped onto the L train, head pounding. She buried her face in her hands, letting herself sink into the cold metal. Teaching didn’t pay enough for this shit.

When she stepped into the lobby of her building, Azzi jabbed the button for the elevator. The distinct lack of electrical humming that made her huff. Of course, the elevator doesn’t work — today of all days. She needed to move. As she climbed five flights of stairs, she ran through her budget in her head.

You can’t afford a better apartment, idiot.

She slammed the front door to her studio apartment and rested her forehead on the wood. Three hours until her shift at Maison Noire.

The upscale club was a survival tactic. On good nights, she could make her rent in a single shift. If she didn’t love teaching so much, she would have quit and been a server full time.

Azzi sighed, thinking about how she ended up here. Grant had seemed like a good guy. She met him at her first college party at eighteen. A few too many shots had her waking up somewhere unfamiliar with no memory of the night before. Grant had brought her bagels and coffee to help with her hangover, and she’d been charmed. She had no idea what the next few years would bring.

It started small — complaining that she spent too much time with her best friends, Caroline and Colleen, neglecting him and their relationship. She distanced herself from them, believing he was right. Next, she missed holidays with her family; it started small with the Memorial Day cookout before escalating to Christmas.

Once she was isolated, the real abuse began.

He wasn’t stupid; he never raised a hand to her. But the things he said hurt worse than a punch ever could.

He gave her everything — everything — and still, spat in his face like an ungrateful bitch. It was laughable, really, how she thought she was smarter than him, asking about bills like she understood the burden he carried. She was entitled, paranoid, and sick in the head, making up problems just to feel important. Her friends didn’t care about her; they tolerated her, the same way you put up with a sad little stray. She was a liar by nature, lying even to herself, twisting every kindness into cruelty so she could play the victim.

Her degree was a joke, a hobby, something little girls picked when they didn’t have the guts to do anything real. She didn’t have the brains or the discipline to survive without someone holding her hand. She would never amount to anything but a preschool teacher. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t strong. She wasn’t even good.

Deep down, she knew it too; she knew she was broken, unlovable, a burden that smart men like him were stupid enough to believe they could fix.

He would leave her, and the world would finally see her for what she was: a failure in cheap makeup, begging for scraps of attention from people who would never really love her.

She hadn’t decided to leave until he finally hit her. Six years into their relationship, when his fist ended up in her stomach, something inside Azzi broke.

She packed a backpack with essentials: passport, driver’s license, social security card, phone, charger, a few outfits, and one picture with her family. She left Los Angeles and started over in a different city.

It wasn’t until a couple months later she realized the full extent of the damage. Collections letters started popping up in her mailbox. The car, the apartment, and all the credit cards were tied to her name. She remembered signing papers, thinking she was just cosigning. She was in thousands of dollars of debt by the time she figured it out.

That was when she applied at Maison Noire.

While grateful for the money, she was sick of having to be ogled by disgusting men. On a Tuesday night, no less!

She used to dream about a tiny classroom, a partner who loved her, maybe a dog. Instead, she was smiling through aching feet, hoping drunk strangers would hand her enough cash to keep the lights on.

She decided to read for an hour and a half before getting ready for work.

Caiden Thomas, the love interest, reminded Azzi of a beautiful, strong blonde who had recently entered her life.

Paige Bueckers was probably the most beautiful woman Azzi had seen. Every time she opened her mouth, Azzi wanted to drool. And the way she had shut down Principal Smith’s bullshit? Hot.

 She was glad Soleil had someone like Paige looking out for her and taking care of her because Azzi had missed that.

She was all alone in a big city. Her parents didn’t even know where she was. She missed her mom, dad, brothers, and grandparents. But Azzi couldn’t face them now. She was worthless. She put a man before everyone. They wouldn’t love her now. They couldn’t.

Not anymore.

Azzi’s alarm buzzed, signaling it was time to get ready. She let out a quiet whine of protest.

One of her favorite things about Maison Noire was the uniforms for bottle girls. They looked like something you could wear out, unlike many of the other clubs in Chicago.

She started with her hair, slicking the front of her hair back and securing it with a claw clip, leaving the rest of her coils loose. A few face-framing pieces softened the look. Disgustingly, she always got more tips if she wore her hair like — or in braids or ponytails.

Men are disgusting.

She applied a light layer of foundation, thanking God that her skin had been behaving lately. She layered on a heavy smoky eye with long lashes. A pinky-purple blush warmed her face nicely, and pink lip gloss tied the look together.

She zipped up the tight black skirt and secured the sweetheart corset. After slathering on shimmering lotion, she spritzed on Kayali’s Sweet Bakery Bliss, her new favorite perfume. She added a silver necklace, bracelet, and a few rings.

She stuffed her feet into a pair of combat boots and pulled on a black hoodie for her train ride. Azzi packed her floor shoes, pouting at the uncomfortable arch. She shoved sweatpants, a t-shirt, and old tennis shoes into her backpack, so she could be comfortable on her journey home.

Setting spray! How could she forget.

Azzi dashed into the bathroom, drenched her face, and used a handheld fan to make it dry faster.

Tonight is going to be great, Az.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Manifestation always worked. By 10 p.m., Azzi had already made $400 in tips.

She took a fifteen-minute break and, when she returned, Kayla handed her an order for a VIP booth in her section.

Three Dirty Shirleys? Someone must be turning 21 or something. Azzi giggled and passed the order to her favorite bartender, Ayanna.

While waiting for the drinks, Azzi made her rounds, groaning internally as she spotted a few of her regulars. Focus on rent, Azzi.

Looping back to the bar, she grabbed the drink tray and plastered on a bright smile.

Azzi approached the VIP section with velvet couches. Three women laughed together. So not a 21st birthday. Two of the women were decked out in silky dresses and jewelry, hair perfectly curled. Maybe sister wives? The third woman wore a beautiful black suit with a blonde bun that looked oddly familiar.

Before Azzi can speak, she felt the blonde woman’s eyes raking over her. She locked eyes with her instinctively.

Her tray almost hit the floor, and a soft gasp escaped her lips.

“Good evening, Ms. Fudd.”

Paige Bueckers was here.

Paige Bueckers, the mother of the child that will probably be Azzi’s favorite this year, was here.

Paige Bueckers, the finest woman Azzi has even seen, was here.

She was here, in Azzi’s section at a club that she would lose her job for being at if her boss ever found out.

Paige Bueckers was at Maison Noire looking at Azzi like — Jesus.

Azzi was very aware of her buffering when one of Paige Bueckers’ companions teased, “Wow Paige. You and Soleil weren’t lying. Ms. Fudd really is as pretty as a princess.”

“Shut up, Nika.” Is gritted out as the same time as, “You can call me Azzi.”

God, her cheeks heated up again. She wished that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“Well, you have to call me Paige, Azzi. No more Ms. Bueckers.” Paige’s cool façade was back up, smirk firmly in place.

Azzi nodded stiffly. “Good evening, Paige.”

Before the blonde could say anything else, other women spoke. “I’m Jana, and this is Nika. Thank you for sticking up for Soleil today.”

A smile cracked Azzi’s face before she could control it, “It was nothing. She’s such a sweet girl and she didn’t deserve to get in any trouble.”

“Come sit with us,” Nika waved her over.

Azzi’s eyes bugged, stuttering. “Um, I — I’m still on the clock, I’m sorry.” She forced herself to finish her thought.

She placed the drinks and shots on their table and scurried off without another word.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“So that’s Ms. Fudd?” Nika smirked, watching Azzi retreat.

Jana snorted. “You chose a class where Soleil’s teacher works here.” She gave a nudge to Nika, one that Paige couldn’t see.

“Don’t talk about her like that, J.” Paige frowned. “Everyone knows teachers don’t make shit. And this didn’t pop up on the background check. Remind me to ask Ash how she missed it.”

After a few more rounds of drinks, the girls had managed to pry some information out of Azzi. She was from Virginia, went to college at UCLA, and stayed in LA for a couple years after graduation before moving here, wanting a change of pace. She was 26 and in her third year of teaching at St. Paul’s. Her job at Maison Noire helped her make ends meet because private school teachers didn’t make much. She had two brothers and no pets, but maybe a dog soon.

Whenever Azzi was around, Paige went silent, content to watch her.

After her fifth Shirley, Paige pulled out her phone and texted the owner, Shyanne, knowing her from her college days.

I want a private room with Azzi. Just her. Five minutes.

Shy Sellers: Room 35

She left Jana and Nika to find someone else to flirt with and walked to Room 35.

The room was silent for ten seconds before the door swung open.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not for sale!” Azzi’s brows were furrowed, her big brown eyes flashing.

Paige was unbothered. She lounged back on the velvet couch, long legs spread casually, arms draped along the back. “Sit down.” She began lazily, “Please, Azzi. Five minutes.”

Azzi scoffed, hovering by the door.

Paige dragged her gaze over the brunette. Her black corset top, the tight skirt, the way she seemed to hide away, just a bit. It made Paige was to take her and keep her all to herself. She was perfect. If given the opportunity, she would protect her, cherish her, worship her.

“I just wanted to talk. Without the music. Without the girls.” Paige drawled lazily. “I heard what you said about working here. I want to help you, if you’ll let me.”

Azzi’s frown deepened and her arms tightened around her. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

“You helped my daughter. Because you care,” Paige shrugged. “I want to offer you something different than…this.” She gestured around, “You deserve better than this.” She gestured to the dark room. “You could leave the club. We would have an exclusive arrangement. No kissing. No sex.”

She sighed, leaning further back. “In my line of work, men don’t like dealing with single masc women. I missed out on a 2.3 million dollar deal because I’m single. They went with a company where the owner was married with two kids, even though they aren’t as efficient as me.  Having someone makes me look more stable, more dependable. You’ll be seen with me. Dinners, events, galas, those kinds of things. You’ll be with me, but not with me. No strings.”

Grant was wrong about something. At least I’m still good for my looks. Azzi thought to herself. Yeah, good enough to be a trophy, but not good enough to love.

“Just think about it.” Paige said, standing. “This could help us both. You work Friday, right? I’ll be back in this room at 11. Please have an answer by then.”

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧

summary_ your heart was big enough to love two men, but your head too messy to pick one, so when both stood you up on your birthday, when you thought everything was over, you realized it had just started.

warnings_ AGE GAP (reader in her early 20s and American), literally implied threesome at the end, implied sex, cheating, in-ho and salesman have a really good relationship with reader, questionable morals, do not romanticize irl.

notes_ today is my 21st birthday omg, wasn’t on my bingo card to fall for older Korean men while in my twenties. I’m obsessed with JENNIEs new album, this is inspired by starlight bc I was just a white lie!!!!!!!!!

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 lee byung-hun

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

It’s cold, foggy, and rainy when you turn off the shower. Your apartment had a large crystal window that allowed you to see the landscape of Seoul. And although the view was unclear thanks to the clouds and fog, you just knew the city looked as beautiful as always.

You enter your bedroom with your semi-wet hair hanging all disheveled and a towel around your naked body. You start grabbing a pair of underwear, dress pants, a sweater, and picking a pair of boots.

The towel falls to the ground and you look back at your bed. Tangled with a mess of sheets, there lays your boyfriend, already eyeing you with a sleepy smile.

“Morning, gorgeous” You blow him a kiss and he smiles even more, rubbing his eyes and starting to stretch. “I left you scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, and bagels”

“Is there anything you’re not perfect at?” He questions as you kneel beside him in the bed while in underwear.

“If you stayed a whole week with me… you’ll realize I’m far from perfect” You lean to kiss him, which he doesn’t reject.

His hands end in your back, palms softly pressed against your skin before unclasping your bra.

You laugh amid the kiss, you feel him smiling as well as his big hands start caressing your breasts.

Maybe it’s because his touch was gentle, precise, and very distracting, but you let him slip his tongue and the kiss turns a mess.

Until you moan and realize it’s Tuesday and you have to be punctual.

“Nice try, but I won’t be late to work again, In-ho” you whisper, leaving one last kiss in his mouth, knowing damn well you will leave him hard and needy.

“You’re bad…”

“Not really” You grab your boots and bag before turning to look at the man in your bed.

Damn, he had a great body to be an old man.

“When are coming back?” You ask, leaning on the doorframe. In-ho sighs, brushing some hair off.

“Thursday and Friday” you nod.

“Okay, bye, baby. Kisses!” You finally leave.

When you met In-ho at a pet store, you literally laughed at the sight of him buying a goldfish. You bought a hamster and In-ho said it was ugly as fuck.

And you ended up fucking him that night after having casual dinner.

The hamster died two days later.

He was a retired cop, single, had a wife who sadly passed some time ago, was sweet but rough in bed, and enjoyed when you cooked for him.

Eight months ago you started seeing him. And he earned the privilege of having the key to your apartment.

Well, one of your apartments.

Your phone started ringing when you hopped onto the train. Your shift as head pharmacist was about to start and you weren’t expecting a call until 3:00pm.

“Hello?” You say after answering. “Why are you calling so early?”

“I slept well and woke up early…” you smile.

“I have a proposition…” your smile grows.

“Oh…” you can hear him chuckling at the other side of the line.

“Perhaps the lovely lady I’m talking to is free this weekend to go on a little trip?…”

“To where?” you just know he’s smiling.

He always smiled when you were clueless, being reckless and showing him traces of affection.

“It’s a surprise…”

He and his surprises.

“Pick me up Saturday morning” The way you were smiling like an idiot while still on the train was enough to let you know how down bad you were. “Any recommendations for clothing?”

“A fine dress, like the sapphire one you wore for our last date. And something to get in the water…”

“Hmm, good clues” he chuckles again.

“No clues, baby”

“How am I supposed to wait till Saturday?” You dramatically ask. “I already miss you so bad”

“I miss you too, love”

“Just some days and then I’ll have you the whole weekend and Monday” You knew what he wanted to add. That he will ruin you.

Your legs rub together before any wet mess can happen and the anticipation begins.

“You’re a tease! I’ll pick only outfits that’ll make you cum as soon as you see me”

He lets out a laugh.

“I have a lot of self-control, darling”

“Mhm, I’m sure you do. But I’m afraid I have to leave you. I need to go to the restroom. I’m starting ovulation week and I’m so wet all the time. Bye, baby!” you hang up, a cheeky smile plastered all across your face.

Your boyfriend was cold but easily melted for you.

He also had a key to your apartment, just not the same as In-ho.

You had been dating him for six months. And he was a core shaker. Your salesman had so many secrets, you knew. How he avoided talking about his job, infancy, and the lack of empathy with the poor.

But you also had one or two things well hidden under your sleeve.

Starting that you were not a pharmacist. You were a biomedical chemist and every two months you took a boat ride to an island, where once a year you were in charge of picking the right organs from deceased people.

Morally wrong, financially right.

Just as you and your two lovers.

Morally wrong but emotionally and sexually right.

…

To say you were spoiled by your salesman boyfriend was an understatement. You never asked for anything from him. He was the one buying your stuff out of nowhere.

Your cheeks felt hot while you waited for an assistant to come with your Tiffany box.

“Why did you pick a necklace instead of a ring,” your boyfriend asks, getting distracted by your asymmetrical skirt and black top.

“Because, my dear, when I get a necklace, I never take it off” he smiles, pleased with your answer.

He wanted you to emotionally depend on him. He wanted you to be as obsessed with him as he was with you.

And so far, he felt pleased.

Like a good girl, you thanked him with a big kiss at the parking lot of the luxurious mall. Your salesman grew impatient and shoved you into the backseat of his Maserati.

Quickly, you ended up straddling him, grinding against the tent in his dress pants and mixing your saliva with his through a sloppy kiss.

“Please” you don’t even know what you’re pleading for. His kisses were some addicted poison that could never get enough from.

He was so odd that just by the touch of his lips, he had you clenching around nothing and soaking your underwear.

“Please what, baby?”

“Don’t make me say it” you say between moans. He smirks, holding you by the hips and motioning you to move against his erection.

“You have to use your big girl words, baby” he says, looking in awe at your beautiful sweaty body.

You take off your shirt and bra and your salesman wastes no time in leaning to suck on your breasts.

“Please fuck me”

“What did you say?” He was mocking you, twirling his tongue around your nipple and making you look stars.

“Please fuck me!” You repeated with urgency, pulling at his soft dark hair.

“I’ll do more than that…”

He kept his promise.

…

You feel your mascara running down your face, it’s all because of the mask. Different from the pink guards one, but still a mask that kept your identity private.

The late Il-nam hand-picked you after you started treating his illness years before he died. He said you had vast talent and urged you to work for him.

Your condition was to keep your identity private, he agreed.

The first weeks of inspecting dead bodies, weighing human organs with thin gloves, and feeling the weight of death, all used to haunt you.

Until you grew used to it. And you weren’t proud of your hidden job. You were not at peace with your tasks and you’d never understand the mentality of the people who paid and gambled to see people dying.

Those were steps of capitalism you’d never reach as much as you worked for the ones leading it.

You sigh, looking at the blood-drenched gloves and dropping the metal silver tools into a bassinet.

Once you step out of the procedures room, you see the man expecting you; the frontman.

“What are today’s numbers?” His cold and modulated voice from the black mask he wore sent shivers through your spine.

“Sixty-three bodies. 38 females and 25 males. Two were fully discharged because the livers, kidneys, and hearts weren’t in perfect condition” he nods once.

“Good. Send the full report to my office and then you’re dismissed”

Your hands looked young. He can’t see well enough because of the blood covering your gloves, but he knows he’s speaking to a young woman.

In-ho wondered why such a young person was already involved in such a dark matter like the island. And you came into his mind.

His young pharmacist girlfriend.

He wouldn’t like it if you were involved in a job like his.

But you already were, and you were mastering it.

…

As if it were an alternative reality, In-ho and you are not strangers working on an island holding child games to kill people and traffic their organs. There is no pleasure in death and the air is light with pure nature and virgin sand.

In-ho and you are a couple. He took you to the beach to the opposite sea of country, parallel to the island.

There’s a hill to walk down.

“Look!” you say excitedly, pointing at the sunset. In-ho stops to turn and see you, taking pictures.

Your happiness made him smile. He had a lot of free days ahead. With you by his side, he easily forgot about his job as the frontman. He wishes there was no frontman job, that way he would feel completely worthy of being with you.

Only that way he wouldn’t feel like his wife was seeing him proudly, wherever she was.

“Isn’t it pretty?” You ask, but upon no answer from him, you turn. “In-ho, darling, Are you okay?”

You pull him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, yes. So sorry, love”

His English was so perfect. You always tell him he sounded almost like he had an Aussie accent.

“I was thinking that maybe we should have dinner…” he says, his right arm around your shoulders as both of you kept walking.

“That sounds nice” you agree. “And then, we’ll wait until midnight to get into our private pool”

In-ho starts chuckling.

“Why until midnight?”

“The energies, In-ho! We have a gorgeous full moon about to come out” you tell him as if it was the most obvious thing.

Sometimes your older boyfriend would forget how superstitious and younger you were.

“You and your witchcraft” At his words you start cackling. You nudge him as walk past him, pretending to be annoyed.

“I was joking, darling”

He jogs to be by your side again, chuckling and putting his arms around you to prevent you from walking.

“You’re still fast to be an old man”

“I was a policeman” you roll your eyes playfully.

“Theory; your policeman instinct left you developed tons of stamina in your late forties” Both of you start laughing.

The last rays of the sun are directly hitting your face. You have to close your eyes but there was a playful smile on your face.

And In-ho notices the necklace hanging on your neck. Golden with a little heart plaque pendant.

“Is that a new necklace?” you open your eyes and look down at your cleavage.

“Yes, I bought it last week…” you reply sounding calm and confident.

If only he knew.

“Is pretty…” In-ho answers.

He isn’t fully convinced. He has an odd omen after paying attention to the necklace but tries to ignore it.

The feeling returned when you were changing into your bikini to get into the pool with him. He was looking for a balm you asked for in your bag.

In-ho stumbled across a golden lighter. It wasn’t his, it wasn’t you because you didn’t smoke.

Have you started smoking? There was no trace of a package. Something was off?

Just as a certain salesman found a locked drawer in your place. He forced it open and found three different cracked phones, lots of keychains, stacks of money, and two guns.

Something was off.

…

There are two rolls of sushi, previously folded in aluminum wrap, three different sauces, two beers, and tempura between you and the salesman.

You lean forward as he places his golden lighter in front of you to get you going with your cigar.

Both of you start smoking in silence, the city is far from being silent but the sounds of the traffic, and the bright lights in the middle of the night form an appealing silence between you and your boyfriend.

“When I was little I always used to say I’d never live where there wasn’t a city” you start, blowing out the smoke from your cigar. “And now that I’m getting older, having a ranch and living in the countryside sounds more appealing”

The salesman pays attention to your words. He never thought about it. He always knew that where he lived didn’t matter since his misery would always be carried along.

“I’m bringing it up because I really liked our rural trip some weeks ago”

“Maybe when we’re older…”

Your eyes snap open.

Was he hinting at a possible future together?

Of course, you wouldn’t reveal your sudden love for the countryside because both of your boyfriends spoiled you with nature-filled trips and you wanted to live happily ever after with both.

Would it ever come the time to pick one man?

Or would karma take what’s theirs and make you end up alone?

You know you’ll go crazy if that happens one day. It wasn’t your intention to be with both. You would never hurt your boys. But you knew the guilt you felt was justified.

And it’s wrong, but that guilt is the only thing you need to know you’re not insane for dating two men at the same time.

“Hey, your birthday is coming right?” Your salesman asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You never thought he’d remember.

“You remember…”

“Of course I do” he answers with a proud smile. “What do you want to do?”

In-ho asked you the same question days ago.

“I don’t know. Maybe dinner…” he nods in agreement.

You didn’t know who would you spend the night with.

It was at that moment that you questioned how far you had gone for love.

…

All your birthdays had been good as a kid. Each year there were fewer invitees, but they didn’t stop being good.

Your first birthday in Korea is rather bittersweet. Your boyfriends stood you up on your birthday.

Were you really that much of a bitch?

Being part of an organization that was cruel, and shushing while allowing people to take more power than granted. And then, dating two men at the same time.

Neither of them answered your phone calls.

You start weeping as you walk back home. The guilt of seeing both started weeks ago, it should have been enough proof of what was about to come.

You open the door of your main apartment. The biggest out of the three you owned. There were your most personal items and all your secrets.

And when you drop your keys in a random bowl, you see two silhouettes sitting in your coach.

You get startled, until you distinguish who were those two silhouettes.

“I’m sorry” you whisper loud enough for them to hear.

They don’t look at you until you start walking towards the living room.

Not a good start but at least it was honest.

They look a little taken aback but calm.

“We’re sure you are” The tone the salesman used made you shiver, questioning that mocking and arrogant face he used to recruit players.

“Tell us, Why couldn’t you just pick one?” In-ho indicates you.

You sigh, walk further inside, and step away from them, only your living room table separating the pair of men with you.

“Because both are perfect for me. I’m so selfish that I want to keep you both…”

Both chuckle and you don’t know how to feel. Maybe pathetic…

“Why do I feel like you’re lying to us?” Asks In-ho. He was only playing with you.

“But I love you both so much!” You say sobbing. Your knees nearly wobble but you do your best to stand still.

“Oh, Should we pity you?” Asks In-ho, he turns and exchanges looks with the salesman.

They both love you too. Deep in their hearts they feel betrayed. But the luck of having you unconsciously on the same side as them, was bigger than their ego.

Both are broken enough to not mind being in an unhealthy relationship. As long as the dynamics with each one of them didn’t change. They could survive.

Until one proposed marriage or one ended up knocking you up.

You can’t tell what they are implying with the exchange of looks. But they are plotting for sure.

You see how your salesman takes out the golden lighter you know so well.

There’s a cake you hadn’t acknowledged, and he’s lighting the candles. It’s pink, and round and it had some baby pink roses as well.

Your eyes tear up again. It was your birthday.

“Take off your clothes,” your salesman says.

You grow confused, tears still spilling.

“What?” You ask.

“Now don’t be shy, darling” In-ho urges you with a sultry voice.

Your fingers shake but not out of fear. But thrill…

Your coat lands on the floor and slowly, you let the straps of your dress slip. You make eye contact with both.

You can now see what rules are in their hearts. You understand why life with In-ho felt domestic and why with the salesman felt euphoric.

Neither of them are good men. But you also are far from being a good woman.

For three different reasons, the three of you ended up working in the same place.

Feeling beyond vulnerable, you can only wait until both stop scanning your male body. In-ho was softer when he fucked you. The salesman was rough no matter what.

The salesman kissed you more often than In-ho.

You had never compared them before.

“Blow the candles, darling…” you deserved to be dumped. “Good girl, happy birthday”

But they weren’t good either. They killed people, they weren’t morally right.

You couldn’t feel completely guilty. Right?…

The only thing messing with your head was the uncertainty of what would eventually happen.

“Now what?…”you ask, kneeling at the little table.

The salesman smiles, In-ho doesn’t smile, but you can see there’s some hidden joy behind his straight face.

You blow the candles, the room falling into some heavy silence.

“We’ll share you” you hear In-ho saying.

Through the silence and complete darkness, you start smiling.

Happy fucking birthday to you.

Despite your errors, your treasons, your secrets… they’ll share you?

Who were you to complain?

________________________

Short but I just wanted to write something for my birthday. Next week finally I’ll post the Han Yun Jae fic and I’m eager to finish Coffee Prince to start part two of twin with Han Kyul.

this week I bought tickets to see Blackpink 4 for the second time with my bffs in LA, yesterday I had the most wholesome hangout, I ate so much sushi today and I’m about to cut my birthday cake with my family and drink a lot, literally a perfect week <3

oh I’m so in love with gong yoo <3333

[danikamariewrites]

Hiding in Plain Sight

Cazriel x reader

Warnings: eating disorder/disordered eating, anxiety, angst, comfort at the end

If reading about Eating Disorders/Disordered Eating makes you uncomfortable please don’t read. Your health comes first.

Azriel stares at you across the table, a worried frown pulling at his lips. He watched you push your breakfast around the plate. His hazel eyes occasionally dart to Cassian, silently begging him to notice that there is something wrong with their mate.

But nothing. Cassian was busy joking with Amren and making sure Elain found it funny that he picked on the ancient being.

There wasn’t much on your plate to begin with. A small scoop of eggs, one piece of bacon, and half of a bagel. Placing your fork on the plate you nudge it away from you. No one would notice that you barely touched your food anyway.

Besides, you had a big dinner last night. There was no need for a big breakfast.

That was the problem with the River House. Every meal was big. And your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed.

The edge of the plate presses against your fingers gently. Looking up from your lap you see a shadow discreetly moving your plate closer to the edge of the table, urging you to eat.

You raise a brow at the shadow before it scurries back across the table to rest at Azriel’s shoulders. Your eyes dart to your mate, briefly making eye contact with him.

You start to fidget nervously feeling the scrutiny of his gaze. Swallowing hard, you stand from the table, excusing yourself to your office for the day.

You were just too anxious. A permanent knot has formed in your stomach over the last week. It feels like your throat closes up on you and you can’t breathe when you try to eat. The only thing you’re able to stomach has been water.

Having Azriel look at you like that had your heart racing in panic. You feel like a burden to your mates at times, especially when your anxiety lasts long periods of time.

Sitting at your desk you take deep breaths, pouring a glass of water. After taking a few sips you get to work, focusing on the needs of the city and keeping your side of the bond closed.

Up in the training ring Azriel’s mind is still on you. Were you not eating again? Or was it just this morning? Last time you struggled with eating it ended you came to them for help. It wasn’t like Cassian and Azriel judged you or thought less of you. They worry about you only because they love you.

Cassian nudges Azriel’s shoulder as he strolls by, leaving the Valkyries to their warm up exercises.

“What’s wrong?” He crosses his arms trying to keep a stoic facade up. Azriel knew Cassian was worried and stressed. He could feel it in his own chest. Knew there were thoughts of you running through Cass’s mind because they echoed in his own.

“I think y/n is struggling again.” Azriel says bluntly, not wanting to dance around the topic as they have before.

Cassian’s jaw muscle feathers. Hurt and anger bubbling in his chest quickly. Azriel lays a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. “Listen,” Azriel growls. “I know how this makes you feel. Angry and powerless, we can’t fight this, only she can. But we can help her.”

Azriel holds the general by his shoulders, forcing Cassian to meet his gaze. “Talk to me Cass.” He inhales sharply, eyes lined with silver as he looks up. “I just…I feel useless to her.” Azriel gently holds Cassian’s face. “You aren’t. We aren’t. I promise, she needs us.”

Deciding to skip dinner, you head straight for your rooms. Exhausted from anxiety making you physically sick.

Opening the door you’re taken aback seeing Cassian and Azriel sitting on the couch. “Oh, Hi my loves.” You put on a fake smile, trying to convince your mates to not ask questions.

Azriel gives you a sad smile, striding across the room to hold you. At his touch you crumbled.

Sobbing into Azriel’s chest he rubs your back in soothing motions. “It’s ok,” he whispers against your temple.

Cassian watches from his spot on the couch. Tears of his own silently sliding down his cheeks. Feeling your anguish through the bond had Cassian wanting to crawl out his skin.

Gods, if this is what you’ve been struggling with on a daily basis you must be stronger than him.

He quickly makes his way across the room, holding you from behind. Cassian presses a long kiss to the back of your head. Scooping you from Azriel he walks you over to bed, cradling you to his chest like you’d cease to exist if he let go.

“Tell me what to do, how do I fix this?” Cassian pleads quietly. You bury your face deeper into his chest, no longer holding your emotions back from your mates. Your shoulders shake as your sobs continue.

Taking deep breaths makes your sobs calm. Sitting up you wipe at your face. Cassian pulls you right back to his chest, needing to hold you.

“I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t make it stop. Every time I think I get better it all comes back worse.”

Cassian looks at Azriel, both males giving each other a pained look. “I’m sorry, sweet pea. I’m so sorry.” Cassian whispers. “We’re here for you. And I swear I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

“We won’t let you face your problems alone, y/n.” Azriel says, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. You reach out to hold his hand.

Settling into your mates’ comforting embrace you focus on clearing your mind. “Thank you,” you say softly. Your mates respond by squeezing you between them. “We love you, y/n.”

“More than you can imagine.”

You curl into them, letting their love reach you through that precious golden string.

[anderscim]

well, now that the first (and second, but i wrote this before seeing the second) episode of chapter 2 part 2 is out, there is one major thing i should address:

✦ what the fuck, david?

// spoilers for DRDT up to ch2 ep12 + implied tally5 spoilers

is there much else i can say here, honestly?

as you can probably tell already, this is more of a reaction post than anything.

i'm simply just... kinda surprised by some of David's actions here. especially regarding his view with Xander. saying that he’ll “do anything to follow in Xander’s footsteps” (paraphrased) even if it means stooping down to the lowest of lows for it, insisting that Xander was a good person, even claiming that his attempt to kill Teruko (and the rest of the class) might’ve been justified… it's almost as if more than anything, David holds Xander to what's nearly a position of worship. i knew from the start that David idolized Xander to some extent, but i never expected it being this… intense. it’s kinda as if he doesn’t see Xander as human, you know?

but do you know what finally makes sense now as a result of David’s behavior?

…

that’s right. tally fucking 5.

or more specifically, the text under the image. i won’t show it to you guys, but most should hopefully know what i’m talking about. (*･ω･)ﾉ (if you don’t, feel free to send me a DM and i can help you there!)

//spoilers for tally5

• • •

firstly: it’s (as far as this episode goes) very true that David idolizes Xander to all ends—and seems to have a vague idea about his goal in ending the killing game (or at least, killing Teruko). and that because of this, David himself took action to follow that goal, even if it meant looking like a “villain” to the rest of the cast. (the reason he told Teruko after that was definitely made up on the spot, but his sentiments about Xander when he was starting to explain why he acted the way he did were—as far as i’m aware—quite genuine).

secondly: he couldn’t understand what Xander’s true plans were, or the exact reason behind his attempt to kill Teruko, but he holds Xander to such a morally correct standard that he… pretty much concluded that he must’ve had a justifiable reason behind it. (and so far, we know that Xander had a reason at the very least. it’s unknown if it was justifiable, but it definitely is a reason.)

thirdly: well, i think this is self-explanatory.

pay attention to how David says “it’s an action that you have to take.” almost as if it was an obligation for him, and that he couldn’t have done anything else.

fourth…ly? this is just something very clearly implied within the LGI MV—the drosophila, the albino mouse, and other elements used show that David more or less sees himself as a “model organism” and not exactly as a true human in its actual meaning. his pessimistic and cynical view of the world (as we saw from ep11—even if he did exaggerate it a bit in his theatre-kid heel-turn, i think he still believes it to be true) adds to this even more—if even humans can’t change, David definitely wouldn’t be capable of ever becoming human in the first place.

5. that’s why footnote 13 is associated with correctness. because no matter what happened, David will believe that Xander was a good person. he will continue to believe that what Xander did was right. and it will take him a while, if it even happens, for him to view Xander as an actual fellow human being, not as a idol of morality who was always correct.

———

obviously, this is more of a reaction that i just casually wrote at 3am, so not everything is really polished. also, who knew i’d talk about the LGI MV again? or tally5? wow, i’m really getting some nostalgia here.

i don’t even know if i fully agree with some parts in here. (-_-) but hopefully, this helps get my point across.

as always, take this with a grain of salt.

[gremlingottoosilly]

How would König react if wifey asked to stack doughnuts on it or wrap a fruit roll up around it?

Terrified! Confused! Mad! ...lightly intrigued. All things considered, he likes your fascination with his cock. Makes him feel cool and manly, with a dick that can impress his precious little girlfriend so much - honestly, he was kinda okay with you being obsessed with it, at first. This is what you're supposed to do as a girlfriend, right?? Then you bought him a pack of doughnuts and he is totally fine, he wouldn't say no to a sugary treat after the training, or maybe even a bit of food play during sex...and he guesses you got him a bit too deliberate, because now you're begging him to let you stuck this whole box on his cock. First of all, he tells you with disbelief in his tone - it wouldn't even fit! He is a thick man with a thick cock, and you'd have to manually make the donut hole bigger so it could fit. Second, he just doesn't understand why you would want to waste perfectly good food on something so silly! He knew you were his weird pretty girl, he loves you for it - but the feeling of sugary roll up around the sensitive veins of his cock...no, thanks. Besides, he is almost terrified at the thought of you wanting to take a bite out of treat and then chomping on his cock instead. You might sell him this idea, however...much later, of course, if he is drunk enough and wants to cheer you up. Maybe you were really sad about something, maybe you just had a bad day - but he would carefully enlarge the holes in pack of big bagels he bought, just so you could try to stuck at least a few...he is willing to bear the uncomfortableness if it means his precious girlfriend is getting the best laugh of her life!! And especially if you're going to clean his dick after...

[anderscim]

hey, 1moreff-creator! do you have a nickname /lh

no problem at all, i’m always here to help! and yeah… both of us have already gone (literature girl) insane from this MV, so we’re in the same boat (_ _;)

i put your (paraphrased) questions in purple, for the sake of readability.

#1: what is that extra text in the tunnel scene?

the additional text is actually just the word “惨状” (“sanjou”), the exact pronunciation, and other ways it can be read. if you look at online dictionaries of the word, a similar format shows up:

it’s strange, though—the lyric itself doesn’t seem to be a direct reference to the opening of “Snow Country,” (the original japanese text doesn’t seem very similar), but many people on both the original japanese song and the english translation believe it’s a direct reference. maybe the artist made a statement on it, but for now, i’m not sure. i do understand your concern with this one, but honestly i don’t see it making a huge difference with re-contextualization—especially since the “reference” is commonly agreed on within the community, even if it isn’t explicitly shown there.  also—there’s actually no way to distinguish “if we” vs “if you,” since that’s not included in the phrase. so whether this says “we” or “you” is entirely up to the translator and the interpretation. though, the line succeeding it is “逃げましょう” which is often translated to “let’s escape,” so based on context “we” might actually be the more fitting word here. take that how you will.

#2A - background noises in the “bibliography scene”—are there any hidden lyrics?

2:31- so—this is actually coherent japanese, but it’s just looped like a broken record. (this is also specific to yoppei’s cover only.) 

the first part is just “watashi wa” (私は—“i am”) looped multiple times, which suddenly changes to “inu desu” (犬です).  these are actually two parts of the same sentence, and when combined it’s “私は犬です” (watashi wa inu desu), which translates to “i am a dog.” 

which—wait, is that why this happens?

well… that’s new. i didn’t notice that. i guess there was more to that part other than monotvid propaganda.

(the actual word they use in this part is “watashi” instead of “wagahai” like the literary reference, but regardless.)

#2B - what did yoppei replace the “1, 2, 3, 4” from the original vocaloid lyrics with?

i had to look at the niconico douga for yoppei’s original video when it came to this one, since i initially didn’t know what it said either—but now, looking at the comments and listening back to it, i think it’s just “カモーン！ピアノ!” (come on, piano!), so honestly i think that’s just yoppei being chaotic as always.  plus, unlike the original song the yoppei cover has a piano instrumental after that segment, which is probably why he said this.

hopefully, there shouldn’t be any important implications to this part?

#2C - “Rise up people!! It's the day to say goodbye to the fools!!” is what the lyrics write, but is it different?

quick note, yoppei’s cover is just him humming along to the tune, doesn’t seem like he’s saying anything coherent here.

and yeah, i noticed that part with the lyrics—but, i’ve never actually heard that lyric, no matter how many times i listen to it. it’s been eating away at my head for days. true, the lyrics are written as “Rise up people!! It's the day to say goodbye to the fools!!” on the wiki—however, it sounds nothing like that in the original song.

in fact, i actually can’t tell exactly what it says (_ _) but part of it sounds like “狂い出せ” (kurui dase)—which means “start going crazy/insane,” so either way it sounds completely different than what’s written on the wiki. which is. weird. i’m not even going insane over the david mv, i’m going insane over the original song. help me.

not really sure how to take this one—sorry i don’t have much to say for this. (￣ ￣)

#3 - what does that background say?

that background is—um. likely going to be a hassle to translate word-for-word, but the least i can say is that it’s a credits screen. it credits the following:

the creator of the song

the thumbnail/video artist

the editor

the publisher(?)

the printing agency(??)

the binding (as in books) (???)

the paper company (????)

and… charan & poran publishing (??????)

(also, remove the ampersand from charan & poran, and you get “チャランポラン,” which is actually an (uncommon) japanese phrase for “sloppy/irresponsible.”)

also, not sure if you saw the description for the english translation video, but it should say “volume three,” not two. (also their description is very helpful with references, a lot of the clues i got came from there ^^)

this was, um, very interesting. i guess the song devolved into a novel or something /j

okay, i think that’s all i have for now. reach out to me if you need anything else!

-🥯

Progress Report on the David MV video I’m working on: 1 week in

(Or basically me rambling for a while to get part of my downward spiral into insanity out in the world. You can ignore this if you want)

I’m not planning to do these weekly or anything, and if it gets annoying, I’ll stop. But I feel like sharing some stuff considering I don’t have a lot of time to make posts on anything else :v

So, good news, I’ve already fully edited (minus background technically, but that takes two seconds to add) over 33 minutes of the video. The worrying news? In the 33rd minute, I am only starting to talk about the first “chorus”. That’s… Fellow Tumblr users, that’s only a minute into the MV. The MV is four minutes long. If the trend continues, the video might actually end up being two hours long. And what’s worse is that the first minute of the MV is relatively simple, since there’s no footnotes or numerals, nor any of the wilder theories that come later. The longest section there is talking for ten minutes about the “tunnel scene”, which is literally just me interpreting lyrics and background text. Admittedly, it’s one of the more complex parts of the song, but still.

Why would the video be so obnoxiously long, you ask? I did say in my original post about it that it likely wouldn’t contain much new information. Well, the truth is.. I was a fool. Most of my analyses before had been about insular parts of the MV, like the numerals and footnotes and stuff like that, but I had never bothered to do a complete analysis of the lyrics and the background text, which is taking a lot of time. The closest I’d seen of something like that is weightedblankettt’s analysis from back when the MV first came out, but as amazing as that post is (and as much as I am taking from it), it didn’t cover a lot of the things I’ll talk about. LGI is already really complicated, and then you have to add all the other text in the damn background and I-

Goodness gracious. One like equals one footnote 6 ([Prayer]).

One thing that particularly struck me is just how prevalent Language Theory actually is. Like, anderscim’s original post only covers a few examples, so I figured it wouldn’t extend much beyond that, but seriously, like every other line is intentionally mistranslated. There’s on point where the lyrics are so screwed I straight up have to explain what the original LGI says, then translate that into the David MV’s changed lyrics, otherwise it’s just nonsensical. Geez.

In other, possibly worse news, I may be giving myself Stockholm Syndrome, and now David is my third favorite character. That wasn’t- This wasn’t how this was meant to go. I considered him sorta mid, now he’s the most fantastic character ever written apparently. I dread the day I start liking him more than Veronika, and I hope it never comes. And I don’t even want to conceive the possibility of me liking him more than Min, but I’m worrying it’s not fully farfetched. I am undergoing negative character development.

I blame him for getting such a banger song tbh. The more I look into it, the more I appreciate just how good LGI is. Like, wow, it really is an incredible song. If only it was on Spotify, I would put it in my playlist after being done with the video.

I also have gotten irrationally attached to the titular Girl of Literature Girl Insane. I may give her a name, since she doesn’t have one. I… may have a problem, but that’s not exactly news.

But anyways. Just as anecdotes, here’s a few of the deranged things which have gone through my mind while writing the script. I hope they’re somewhat amusing without context, because for me they simply represent suffering.

+Okay, so we’ve made the link between David and Bowser from hit video game series “Mario”, how much lower can we go?

+The MV says “it will”, but both anderscim’s post and the Vocaloid wiki say it’s “it has”, but the video I’m also referencing for translation says “it will” as well, and the credits of the MV list the video’s uploader, but the Vocaloid wiki’s translation was made by the same uploader-

+How many interpretations am I on for the “ideal country”? Like, five, six?

+I can’t believe David would say that to the square oOo

+Okay, so if Diana is the lemon- <- Theory crafting, probably won’t be in the video.

+Why does every fucking number represent “change” or “new beginnings”?! Get some new fucking material, people!

+What the hell does this quote mean? David doesn’t have enough of a purpose in life for it to work here.

+why am i looking at a tumblr rp blog.

…

might read through it later-

+Oh, so now it’s “we”! Every other time you’ve said “you”, David! What is your deal?!

Anyways, sorry for not posting anything of substance and then rambling, but wanted to scream into the void for a while. Thanks for reading, and take care!

[callsign-rogueone]

questions

Ridoc Gamlyn x reader (sweetheart!) Part three of Ridoc and Sweetheart's story words: 2.9k 🏷: no real book spoilers, this will make more sense if you've read Resson (Garrick's version) but it's not required, set a week or two into Iron Flame, this is a sweetheart chapter so warning for intrusive / self-deprecating thoughts and anxiety spirals, I made a bunch of stuff up about Ridoc's life because RY never told us anything, Rhith being a cool mom, this hasn't been proofread, oops. gonna go have a bagel now byeeee

Rhith had told you that Ridoc would meet you at the gates at eleven — so naturally you’ve been standing there since 10:45, rocking back and forth on your heels and peeling your cuticles.

Why did you agree to do this? Actually, this was your idea — why did you bring it up? What if he’s not going to show up, and you’re just going to stand here for an hour like an idiot?

“Hey! Am I late?” he asks, startling you out of your thoughts. He’s a little out of breath, like he’d ran here, but he offers you a wide smile nonetheless.

You open your mouth to speak just as the bells chime. 

“Guess not,” he laughs when they’re done. “You ready to go?”

You nod, stuffing your hands into your pockets so he can’t see the state of your fingers. Thankfully it’s not too hot to wear your flight jacket. This is your first venture into town, and you don’t want to have your relic on display when you’re in a new place — just going is scary enough.

He leads the way — of course he knows where you’re going. He probably goes out every weekend with his friends; another way you’re completely different.

“I figured we could play twenty questions,” he offers. “Get to know each other a little more. You can go first, if you want.”

You take a second to remember how to speak again. “Alright, um… do you have any hobbies?”

“Coming up with jokes is pretty time consuming.”

“And here I thought they were all completely spontaneous,” you say, shaking your head. “Do you write them all down in that fabled diary of yours?”

He laughs. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t actually have one?”

You tilt your head to the side, considering it. “Only because I don’t see you spending your free time sitting down, writing.” 

“You wound me, sweetheart. I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of writing complete sentences.”

“I never said you weren’t. I just said that I didn’t see you doing it.”

“Fair. Tell me about your book,” he prompts. “The one you’re always carrying around.”

“That’s not a question.”

He gives you a sly smile. “Well played. I’ll rephrase, then. What’s the book about? Do you like it?”

“That’s two questions.”

He laughs, warm and full. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Three.”

“Okay, okay. The first one, then — what's it about?”

“The main character is a trained assassin who is called before the king to join a contest to become his hitman, basically. But the contestants keep getting murdered in the night by some creature that they can’t track down.  It’s part of a series, but I’ve never seen the other volumes anywhere. I like to imagine a different ending every time I read it.”

“You’ve read it more than once?”

You ignore the fact that that’s yet another question, answering it without protest. “Yeah. I know that’s dumb, but it was the book I was in the middle of when my life went to shit. It’s technically property of the library in Aretia, but it was burnt to the ground, so I never gave it back.”

Your heart beats a little faster at the mention of your hometown, and you immediately regret bringing it up, but thankfully Ridoc seems none the wiser. 

“There’s nothing dumb about it if it makes you happy.”

You’ve just stepped into the tiny restaurant when a man that you guess is the owner sees Ridoc and pulls him into a tight hug. “I was wondering when you’d bring your girlfriend!”

Your cheeks warm, but you don’t correct him — that would be too awkward.

Ridoc doesn’t correct him either. “I set up Ezra here with ice that never melts,” he explains with a smile.

“It’s been a blessing. Keeps everything fresh longer, so I don’t have to waste it. You two sit — I’ll make you something special, on the house.” He disappears into the tiny kitchen in the back, leaving the two of you alone in the nearly-empty dining room. 

Ridoc gestures to a table in the corner, away from the door, and you settle into the chair silently. You can’t help but run through Garrick’s mental checklist — your back is to the wall, and you have clear sight of the two exits. You have a knife in your right boot and one in your left sleeve — plus the blunt one laid on the table in front of you. The fork would probably do more damage, though.

“I think it’s your turn.”

“Hm? Oh. Right.” You take a moment to look at him. “Why are you here?”

He gives you a stupid grin. “Because you asked me on a date.”

You roll your eyes. “No, I mean, why Basgiath? Why the rider’s quadrant?”

“Oh, I know. I just wanted to remind you that this whole thing was your idea. But really… probably because I’m an adrenaline junkie who feels like he has to prove to the world that he’s not an idiot. And I’ve always admired the riders and their magic. We can do some pretty cool shit.” 

There’s a pause, and his voice softens as he continues. “I know you didn’t want to be here, so I probably sound super ignorant saying all that. I do think it’s fucked up that you didn’t get a choice — and the way that they handled all of it.”

“I respect your answer. It was honest.”

His turn for a question. “How do you feel about it, really, being here? Not here as in here,” he clarifies, tapping the table, “but at Basgiath.”

You look at him for a second. “Is that your question, or…”

“It can be. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we can go back to the dumb ones.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say quietly, thinking for a second. “I’ve accepted it, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

He’s quiet, giving you space to elaborate — the same way Garrick does; not prying, but silently offering to let you tell him what you’re thinking, if you want to.

“Challenges are the one thing here that doesn’t scare me, because I don’t have to think about it anymore. I know what to do if someone takes a swing at me, and I know how to disarm someone, because Garrick made me practice hundreds of times. But everything else…” 

“Is uncertain and unfamiliar, and therefore scary,” he finishes for you. 

You’re a little surprised by the gentle tone of his voice, the lack of judgment in his words. “That pretty much sums it up.”

Another pause.

“I’ve had an anxiety disorder pretty much my whole life,” you admit. “I was that kid in school that everyone thought couldn’t speak, because I never talked to anyone, except my siblings. Liam was my first real friend who was my age. He didn’t mind the quiet. We would just sit together, and he’d do his wood carvings while I read my books. That was good enough for both of us.”

“Where are they now? Your siblings, I mean.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking down at the tablecloth and the barely distinguishable pattern of flowers woven into it. 

“I know that’s two in a row for me,” he says, backpedaling. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I had a brother and a sister. They were eight and ten years older than me, but they were my best friends. I think they knew that I didn’t have anyone my age, so they always let me tag along for everything until they left for Basgiath.”

“They went here?”

You nod. “As infantry. When they graduated, they joined Fen Riorson’s movement, and a few years later, they were executed along with my parents.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Something compels you to keep talking, to push past the awkwardness and condolences. “I don’t mind talking about them. It’s hard, but they were an important part of my life, and they deserve to be remembered. Losing them was devastating, but Garrick and my foster sister helped fill that void.”

You trace a fingernail over one of the tiny flowers. “I think… I think that’s why I kept pushing you away, and why I haven’t really made any friends here. Being marked doesn’t help, but I can never let myself get close to anyone, because everyone I’ve ever been close to has left me, one way or another.”

You can’t bring yourself to say “died” — and that wouldn’t be quite correct, either. Garrick is very much alive, last you’d heard, but he’s at least a twelve hour flight away. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I only met her twice, but she was always kind to me and everyone she met.”

It takes you a second to realize that he means your foster sister — as far as Ridoc and the rest of the school know, she’d died at Resson along with Liam and Soleil.

“She was,” you say softly. 

It feels weird speaking about her in the past tense. You know she’s not dead, that she’s safe with Brennan and the elders, but the last time you saw her, she might as well have been — she’d felt so cold, and looked so drained, unable to respond to you or even open her eyes. 

She has to be awake by now, starting to recover. She has to push through, if for no reason other than that it would absolutely shatter both you and Garrick if she didn’t. 

Ridoc exhales, choosing his next words carefully. “I really am sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that, especially so young. But for what it’s worth, which probably isn’t a lot — I think you’re handling it all incredibly well, and you’re really brave for it.”

You, handling anything well? and being brave? Yeah, right. You take a sip of water to cover the look of dry disbelief on your face, but he sees it anyway. 

“I mean it. Bravery isn’t “never being scared”, it’s “being scared but doing the scary thing anyway”, and you’ve been doing that every day for the last year — for your whole life, honestly. I think that’s admirable.”

You blink at him for a moment, surprised. 

“It’s true,” Rhith says gently. 

“Thank you,” you say softly — to both of them. “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

He offers you a soft smile. “I think that’s enough deep questions for now. Thank you for telling me all of that, though. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t,” you agree. “But I feel… lighter.”

“Lighter is good.”

Ezra arrives at the perfect time, holding a tray with two plates of steaming noodles and two glasses of water, placing them in front of you and making a quick exit.

Ridoc brushes a hand against his glass, and you watch the pattern of frost crawl over the edges as it chills itself near instantly. “Want me to do yours?”

You blink, realizing he’s speaking to you. “Sure. Thank you.”

He pushes the cold glass toward you, taking the other and chilling it for himself.

The question comes out before you can think. “How long did it take you to get used to the cold?”

He looks up at you, surprised. “Not long. A week, maybe. I run hot, so sometimes it’s kinda nice.”

You nod in understanding. He’d been warm to the touch when he’d wrapped his arms around you, and you’d melted right into him. That was a first. But so is this, and it seems to be going okay.

You both eat without further discussion, every minute of quiet a little more comfortable than the last. The food is good — better than anything they serve at Basgiath. 

“So, where’s home for you?” you ask after a while.

“Deaconshire,” he answers. “My dad’s still out there. It’s been just me and him for a while.”

“Not too far, then,” you comment, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he hadn’t mentioned his mother. 

“Yeah. I’ve thought about going AWOL for an afternoon, just to see him for an hour or two. But at least the letters will arrive fast.”

“Right,” you say softly, pushing the last piece of pasta around your plate idly. 

It hadn’t really sunk in yet that you can write letters now, as a second year. You could write to Garrick, but it would be too dangerous to send anything to Aretia, with the professors reading everything to make sure there’s no classified information being spread. You might be able to write to the Duke, and hope he passes it on to the right people, but that would still be deemed suspicious. 

Maybe Bodhi could help you.

“Where’d Garrick get stationed?” he asks.

“Samara,” you answer quietly. 

He winces, knowing that’s right on the front between Navarre and Poromiel, but he recovers quickly. “He’s with Xaden, right? They’ll take care of each other.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ll be fine,” he reassures. “They were the two biggest, most intimidating dudes in fourth wing. Nobody’s going to mess with them — but if anyone’s dumb enough to try, they’ll get what’s coming to them. And they can definitely kick ass in the air, too.”

He’s right — they’ll be fine.

Probably.

“Yeah,” you say again, hoping it sounds convincing. “They can definitely hold their own.” But against wyvern… what if what happened to Deigh happens to Chradh or Sgaeyl, and there’s nothing they can do? 

You force the thought out of your head before the universe can hear it and make it come true. 

“You ready to head back?” he asks gently.

You nod in affirmation, and he gets up, finding Ezra. The owner bids him a cheerful goodbye that includes a hearty pat on the back, while you stand by the table and offer him a weak wave and a soft thank you.

The walk back to the school is quiet, only the crunching of gravel under your boots, but this time the silence isn’t as loud.

You’ve already said everything you needed to say, laid all your cards face up on the table and shown them to the other — almost all of them, you think with a little flare of guilt, but there are some things you just can’t tell anyone, for the sake of Tyrrendor in its entirety.

“This one’s mine,” you say quietly, stopping in front of your door. 

You call it yours, but it doesn’t feel that way. Just because you sleep here and your stuff is piled up in the corner, yet to be unpacked, doesn’t make it feel like yours, and doesn’t make it feel safe, despite the ward that Garrick had helped you put up before he left for Samara with Xaden.

Ridoc offers you a warm smile. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I’d really like to see you again, if you want.”

“I’d like that too.”

He lingers, and for a moment you’re worried that he’s expecting something of you, but he remains a few steps away, his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you,” you add. “For today. And for finding me yesterday.”

“Of course, sweetheart. And next time you start to feel that way, you can have Rhith tell Aotrom to get me, okay? You shouldn’t have to deal with that alone.”

“Okay,” you say softly. 

He gives you another knee-weakening smile before he heads off, disappearing into a room that must be his — eight doors down, on the other side of the hall.

You make it inside just as the bells strike twelve thirty. The afternoon is still young.

You decide to unpack — starting by shoving the box of your sister’s things into the bottom of the armoire. You’d burned most of her stuff, to maintain the appearance that she’s actually dead, but you and Garrick had both taken some for yourselves. Malek couldn’t get mad about that, right?

You don’t know if you should worry what he thinks or not — you despise him for taking everyone away from you, but you need to remain in his good graces if you want to keep the few people you have left. But you aren’t sure how — it remains unclear what you did, or didn’t do, to deserve that. 

“It was nothing you did,” Rhith says gently, startling you. “And you didn’t deserve it.”

“Sorry,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to project that to you.”

“We’ve talked about the apologies, sweet one,” she prods. “They’re never necessary.”

“Sor—” you stop yourself before you can finish the word. “I’ll work on that.”

She changes the subject for you. “I’m proud of what you did today. I know that was difficult for you.”

“It’s easier with him,” you say quietly. “I don’t know why, but it is.”

“Many things don’t require explanation. It is enough to simply appreciate them.” 

Spoken like a true green. “I wish I could be as logical as you,” you sigh. 

“There is value in both logic and emotion, but there is a balance to be found between them.”

You sit with the statement for a moment as you start to fold the laundry you’d shoved into a bag and dragged up the stairs when you’d moved, trying to smooth out the wrinkles to no avail.

“What do you think?” you ask. “about him, I mean.”

“I think he has a good heart. He genuinely cares for you, but it is your decision whether to trust him or not. And even if you do, there are some things that he can never know.”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I know.”

“I’m proud of you, my girl.”

You’re a little bit proud of yourself too.

[honeydippedfiction]

Please I need #1 from the pre-established list with Trevor Z

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#1. Sending you dumb questions, funny jokes, or random thoughts in replacement of good morning texts.

Trevor Zegras x black!femreader

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Trevor never sent normal good morning texts. Not once.

Where most couples woke up to heart emojis or sleepy selfies or some variation of “Did you sleep okay?”, she woke up to things like: “If I get bitten by a radioactive squirrel, promise you’ll still love me if I become Nutman.”

It was absurd. Unnecessary. And somehow, it had become her favorite part of the day.

It started early in their relationship—accidental at first. One morning, he’d overslept and shot off a panicked text that read, “Just woke up from a dream where I lost all my teeth and then signed a contract with the Tooth Fairy. Thoughts?”

She had laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone in the sink. It wasn’t a smooth good morning, but it was real. It was weird, oddly tender, and it caught her completely off guard.

After that, it became a thing.

Every morning like clockwork—sometimes before sunrise if he was on the road, sometimes a few minutes after she’d already texted him “hey sleepyhead”—a new Trevor Zegras Original™ would arrive. Stupid, sweet, or wonderfully unhinged. But never ordinary.

This morning was no different.

Her alarm went off at 6:55 AM. She silenced it with a groan and rolled over, burying half her face in the pillow. Her body begged her to stay in bed, but her brain—well-trained now—waited for the buzz.

It came at 7:03.

She reached blindly for her phone and unlocked the screen.

Trevor: “Serious question: If I legally adopt a penguin, can it be the ring bearer at our wedding?”

A slow grin crept across her face. “This boy,” she mumbled to no one. She rubbed her eyes, yawned, and thumbed out a reply.

Her: “Only if it wears a bowtie. Tux is overkill.”

She barely had time to set her phone down before the typing bubbles appeared.

Trevor: “God, you get me.”

This was their rhythm. The day didn’t begin until he’d dropped a dumb hypothetical into her life like a glitter bomb—completely unnecessary, a little messy, but unexpectedly delightful.

Her apartment was quiet. She padded barefoot to the kitchen, sunlight beginning to spill across the tile floor, and flicked on the kettle. Her phone dinged again.

Trevor: “Okay but what if we invite two penguins? One for each of us. Equal opportunity.”

She laughed out loud, nearly spilling her tea. “That’s equality,” she muttered, tapping back.

Her: “You’re drunk with power. It’s 7 AM.”

Some of his greatest hits lived forever in a saved folder on her phone—screenshotted, organized, and shamelessly re-read on bad days.

— “Would you still date me if I had elbows where my knees are?” — “Your laugh is strawberry-flavored. Not a question, just a fact.” — “Do you think ghosts get annoyed at each other? Like, 'Ugh, Janet, stop floating through the wall dramatically.'”

Each message was a window into his mind. Some windows were foggy. Some were cracked. All of them were open.

On away-game days, the texts got more elaborate. Maybe it was the hotel boredom or the 3 AM bus rides, but he had time. He’d send long strings of voice notes, or mock-poetry about how sad his pregame bagel looked.

One Tuesday, she woke up to a five-part text saga:

Trevor: “Okay hear me out: a reality show where NHL players have to live on a farm and raise goats.” “I’d win btw.” “Or die.” “Either way, entertainment.” “Miss your face.”

She had laughed herself into a coughing fit. Not just because it was funny, but because it was him. Even when he was exhausted or hurting, even when the game had gone sideways or the media was hounding him—he always found a way to send something that felt like him. And better yet, that felt like them.

Because, really, that was the magic of it.

These weren’t just jokes. They were love notes in disguise. They were little daily reminders that he saw her, even when she wasn’t in front of him. That she was the first person he wanted to tell when his brain spun off into some strange corner. That he didn’t want their relationship to become routine—not even for a second.

He didn’t say “good morning.” He said “here’s a world I made up that only we live in.”

And she treasured it.

One night, back in the off-season, they were tangled up on his couch, Netflix flickering in the background. Her legs draped over his lap, his fingers absently tracing circles on her shin. They’d watched maybe ten minutes of The Officebefore veering into one of their wandering late-night conversations.

She glanced over at him, playful curiosity in her voice. “Hey. Why do you do that?”

He didn’t look away from the screen. “Do what?”

“The weird texts. The penguins. The elbow knees. All of it. You could just send, you know… ‘good morning.’ Like a normal boyfriend.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but where’s the romance in that?”

She snorted. “You think hypothetical penguins are romantic?”

Finally, he looked at her—smiling, but serious in that way he got when she caught him off guard. When her question nudged something real beneath the jokes.

“I just… I never want you to feel like I’m phoning it in,” he said. “Like I’m just checking a box. I want you to wake up and already know I’m thinking about you—not in some boring, 'hope you slept well' kind of way. But in the way where my brain does something dumb and you’re the first person I need to tell.”

She looked at him then—really looked. At the boy who lit up arenas and still worried about making her laugh before 8 AM. At the kid who could dangle around defenders but never danced around his feelings.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned over and kissed him, soft and slow. Then whispered, “You’re such a weirdo.”

He beamed. “Your weirdo.”

The next morning, her phone buzzed before her alarm. 6:41 AM.

Trevor: “What if we bought a submarine and just dipped from land life?”

She blinked at the screen for a second, half-laughing, half-awake.

Her: “Only if it has WiFi and you do the dishes.”

And just like that, her day began.

Better than good.

Better than “Good morning.”