#because people spell it both ways and one is Technically Correct but I don’t like it sorry

[julians-meh-house]

Braca ass image (Grunchlk censored bc i am Grunchlkphobic 😔)

[fanby-fckry]

Throwing this in the queue, because I don’t want it to look like I’m vagueing (technically I am, but this is also a general vent and psa).

I genuinely hate it when people say “delulu.” I think it dilutes the meaning of the word (both the butchered spelling and the way it trivializes delusions), and as someone with psychosis + delusions, it irks me to no end.

I’ve seen it used both in wildly inappropriate ways (e.g. people calling themselves delusional/delulu for shipping non-canon ships) and in technically correct ways that are just… Off. Ways that make me suspect the person using the word doesn’t actually understand what delusions are, and are pop psych-ing their blorbos with no research or lived experience.

For the record, I’m not knocking people who project their symptoms onto fictional characters or who reclaim ableist/saneist language, and because I cannot definitively tell who is projecting/reclaiming, and who is talking out of their ass, I would never call out anyone in particular.

I don’t support gatekeeping, censorship, or callout posts, which is why I’m posting like this rather than naming names or pettily reporting people for ableism/hate-speech when it’s likely they just don’t know any better, or that I’m the one missing context. And I know that trying to forcefully censor anything regarding marginalized groups is likely to come back around to bite the same group in the ass.

That being said, I am begging non-delusional people to please put some thought into the words that you use and the way you portray/talk about delusions in fiction and in daily life.

Content Warning: unreality/talk of specific delusions; if you suffer from delusions and find your symptoms worsen when hearing details of others’ delusions, I recommend scrolling.

I’ve struggled with delusions regarding “mind readers” for about as long as I can remember, often becoming extremely distressed by the idea that someone in the room could be reading my thoughts, to the point of creating mental mantras to distract/overwhelm potential mind readers and repeating them over and over again in my head, screaming them with my inner voice.

It’s gotten a lot better with time and therapy, but there was a time where I had persistent thoughts of, “what if somebody can hear this?” and spent 30+ minutes straight addressing potential mind readers via thoughts.

I took “thought crime” to the extreme. I genuinely believed that at any time, there could be someone who might hear my thoughts and judge/punish me for them.

I have a similar delusion that still plagues me to this fucking day, where I believe that anything I say out loud can be heard, even if I’m alone. Who hears it? That’s not specified. It’s some nebulous ‘someone,’ but for some reason, they terrify me. There are times where I physically cannot bring myself to speak because I’m afraid that the ‘someone’ will hear.

Being a crackshipper who understands that your ship will never be canon but likes to play pretend is in no way comparable to experiencing delusions. Trust me, I’ve got both!

I’d also like to talk about using “delulu” to refer to delusions of grandeur in fandom.

Disclaimer: I don’t have a whole lot of personal experience with delusions of grandeur (I experience some fleeting instances of grandiosity, but not really to the point that it significantly affects my life), so if I say anything inaccurate or insensitive, please, please feel free to correct me.

It feels like delusions of grandeur are highly misunderstood and trivialized even moreso than other types of delusions.

Having a skewed sense of self can cause major problems in a person’s social/interpersonal life, cause an increase in risk-taking behavior which can but their health and their life in danger, and is often the result of trauma. Yes, this includes delusions of grandeur!

If you’re calling your blorbo “delulu” for having a grandiose view of themselves, please take a moment to ask yourself how this trait affects them, and how your description of it might sound to the real life people reading it, especially if this isn’t your experience.

Again, I cannot stop you. Not without potentially hampering the ability of delusional people to talk about our symptoms, scaring off questioning and self-diagnosed folks, and inciting infighting. And even then, I don’t think it’d truly scrub every use of the word.

But at least think about what I’ve said here. Pretty please?

[geminiamethyst]

having a bit of a rant….

I’m sorry that this isn’t a chapter but I feel like I need to say it here. I might delete this after a couple of days but we’ll see how it goes first.

If you guys don’t know already, I post on Wattpad as well as Ao3. And up until now, this story has been going fine, no complaints. Until a month ago and last night. Both comments were done by the same account. I’m going to quote the comments in question and give some context.

So in the second chapter, Flameslinger gave himself his name. I realise that at that point in the story, he hadn’t picked up archery yet. Also, Stump Smash doesn’t have his name yet, he gives it to himself after his was attacked by the trolls. However, this comment says…

“This doesn’t make much sense. He gets his name from being a fire bowslinger. So far, in your story, he’s only known for his fiery eyes and his mind’s eye and not for archery. Just as Stump Smash doesn’t make much sense as a name for a tree, unmarred by troll cutters.”

I get that I might have made a mistake by letting Flameslinger give himself his name the way that I did, but because no one else had complained about it, I didn’t think that it would be an issue. I thought that it was a small mistake that if people had nit picked about more, I would’ve been happy to change it.

Also, as I have just said, Stump Smash hadn’t given himself a name at that point in the story, and later on, he had explained to Flameslinger what had happened to him and so on. I don’t know if this person had not read the chapter well enough, or they thought that I have typed in Stump Smash by accident (I hadn’t, I checked over the chapter myself), but he hadn’t been brought up in the chapter, even if it’s obvious to fans that know Flameslinger’s backstory.

Anyway, later on in the story Fright Rider is introduced. I am aware that Fright is also known as Ozzy, and Rider can be known as Fright Rider himself. I even have Rider call his steed Ozzy at one point in the chapter. However, this comment says…

“Fright Rider and Ozzy, not Fright and Rider. Check the fandom wiki.”

And I did just that. I checked the fandom wiki and this is what the first paragraph says:

“Fright Rider and his steed Ozzy (formerly known as Rider and Fright, respectively), are an Elven jouster and a skeletal ostrich, who together form an Undead jousting team. The two of them serve as one of the core Skylanders in Skylanders: Giants.”

So technically, this person and I are both right and wrong. I realise that I might have made another small mistake, but the Wiki does go on to keep calling Ozzy “Fright” and Fright Rider as “Rider”. Especially after telling their backstory and how they became to be part of the Undead Element. The only time that it doesn’t is at the start and doing some quotes from the books and the games. Also I’m not the only one that has done this. I just don’t understand why I’m the only one being told this, when a couple of other writers have done this as well.

And now this person is nitpicking everything in one of my newer chapters. First it was just minor spelling mistakes that I have apologised for and corrected. But now it’s starting to get a bit too far. They have started commenting on certain paragraphs and editing it to how THEY want to read it.

They’ve even told me to not ship Flameslinger and Stealth Elf. It’s not even confirmed if I am shipping them. I’m not even sure if I am going through with it. For now I’m having them as good friends/teammates. Not to mention, it’s MY story, not theirs.

I just want to say that I don’t mind getting a comment that is something along the lines of constructive criticism. Like if I had made a HUGE mistake that I didn’t realise and it was pointed out, I don’t mind, I’m more than happy to correct it. But these comments have started to make me hesitate posting future chapters on Wattpad now because someone is being so nit picky. I’m going to ignore this person for now. If they start causing problems, like having a go at me or something, then I will block them. So far nothing has escalated just yet.

If you have a Wattpad account, PLEASE DON’T ATTACK THIS PERSON!

Sorry about this rant, I just felt like I needed to get it off of my chest. I’m not going to post it on Wattpad because I don’t want this person to come at me there, I don’t want to start a fight or anything. I just want to write what I want and enjoy doing it.

[fictionkinfessions]

I have a couple things I have to rant about so I’ll just say them both in one ask for efficiency wheeee

firstly, what the fuck why does TGP (the genesis project, for those who are lucky enough to not know) have to give me kin vibes. Like it is vividly reminding me of my source but not in any solid way. Although it seems to be giving me some insight, at least, because I distinctly remember the color red being involved in either my (well. Technically not *mine* but I’m not getting into that now) land or my aspect.

and secondly, I feel bad about sticking to one typing style, because sometimes I don’t feel like putting in the effort of capitalization, but otherwise my very particular typing style feels natural. But I always stick to one (it’s different for different people I talk to) so it doesn’t confuse anyone.

also bonus third thing: I can’t stand making spelling errors (unless they’re ironic), so it’s very fuckin annoying that I have hand tremors. I always feel like I have to go back and correct them, which makes my typing speed slow. I used to be an AI why’d I have to end up like this <\3

Anyways sorry for rambling

-Hal (#💾🕶️)

🍃

[steveskafte]

CREATOR'S LITTLE SECRET I'm not well-educated in the traditional sense. I failed so often at Math and Science that I can't separate the right answers from the wrong ones in my mind. The correct solution was just the last one I learned to finally pass. The only subject I came close to acing was English. Something about the history of words, their construction and spelling, the way they could be formed into virtually any expression – it was some kind of heartfelt magic. When I'm writing, it's like the words float through space around me, and I pluck them one by one for the page. My overall mastery of language is fairly limited. I use few words over four syllables, and don't have much taste for making my audience read with a dictionary on tap. I think of myself like a folk artist, doing working-class writing that doesn't sound any different from the way I talk face-to-face. Just because they're immersed in the technical process, a lot of artists fall for the trap of thinking that their audience should know it all too. I don't mind telling you how the sausage is made, so to speak, but I suspect it won't improve your enjoyment of the final product. When I hear a song I love, that doesn't mean I need a lesson on how to play it. Who cares what lens the photographer used, and why are writers always droning on about writing? Maybe this is just me, coming from a long line of blue-collar non-artists, but some things are better not knowing. Behind-the-scenes lessons are fine for teachers, but I think artists are better suited for spending their time making more art. I think of it like this – maybe you love your life and love your parents, but that doesn't mean you want a play-by-play of your conception. The real backstory worth telling is hidden in the reasons. The important aspect of understanding art is not in the chords, notes, techniques, or craft – but in asking why a bridge was built from the emotion and experience to anywhere at all. The knots and tangles between the two can be infinitely picked at, when all that matters is inspiration and the final product. The rest is best kept as the creator's little secret. So many people feel this weird thrill from digging through a vast and mythologized creative process – as if we have no confidence that the artist's passion and our love of their art is enough. Discussing the process can't make us love deeper, or build it up from scratch. If I reach you, it's like falling in love. If I don't, let's both move on and keep looking. May 22, 2023 Annapolis County, Nova Scotia Year 16, Day 5671 of my daily journal.

[fixhackedsite]

Debugging Website Syntax Errors: Tips and Tricks for Avoiding Common Mistakes

Fix Hacked Site - Malware Removal and Website Security Service. Debugging Website Syntax Errors: Tips and Tricks for Avoiding Common Mistakes

In Visual Basic, errors fall into one of three categories: syntax errors, run-time errors, and logic errors.

Trying something new on your WordPress site? Got any of the following errors like

parse error: syntax error, unexpected t_string WordPress,

parse error syntax error unexpected end of file in WordPress,

parse error: syntax error, unexpected t_function WordPress,

parse error syntax error unexpected text t_string WordPress,

parse error syntax error unexpected if t_if WordPress,

WordPress parse error syntax error unexpected expecting or ‘;’

then don’t freak out. You are not the first one to receive the parse error in WordPress. In this article, we will show you how to fix unexpected syntax errors in WordPress. The parse error in WordPress isn’t a common error, and it typically occurs through a mistake made by the user.

Syntax Error

A syntax mistake is brought on by a user entering incorrect code (e.g., leading to errors, spelling mistakes, and so on). This is the most common and also quickly understood type of coding mistake. The bright side is that almost all code editors damage their editing policies, so it is simple to identify the resource of the error.

Syntax errors take place when commands are not composed correctly.

These consist of grammatical mistakes, misspelled words or missing symbols, incorrect spelling in the website code, etc. In WordPress, this is generally a PHP mistake.

Each coding language has its features that need to be thought about. For example, many C-based languages call for a semicolon at the end of each sentence. Consequently, a syntax error can happen because a semicolon is missing out even if a line is technically correct.

Nevertheless, unlike logical errors, phrase structure errors can be easily discovered and dealt with.

How do program languages function?

Setting languages such as Python and Java are compared to natural languages such as English, Spanish, and Japanese. However, they have a lot alike.

Word order is essential.

There is a grammar (phrase structure) for just how words are created.

Words should be meant appropriately.

It can be translated from one program’s language to another.

Both use punctuation to framework and order words as well as sentences.

The same code or ‘paragraph’ can be utilized in more than one method to define the same point.

However, programming languages differ from human languages in lots of means. One of the crucial points is that human languages (as well as people) can deal with ambiguity in such a way that programming languages (as well as computer systems) usually can not.

How are grammatical mistakes found and also remedied?

Dealing with syntax errors includes finding and adapting the code to the phrase structure regulations that apply to the programming language. Depending on the programming language and advancement atmosphere, different software application tools can check for phrase structure errors and can be used by designers to deal with these mistakes. Many developers use integrated growth settings (IDEs), consisting of debugging tools that can discover most software application errors. If the advanced tools can not discover the trouble, the only option is to search the code by hand for ideas about where the mistake could have happened and try to find it in the code.

Not all international debugging tools can prevent syntax mistakes when a shows language is updated and syntax modifications. The old code needs to be checked, reworded, and in line with current requirements in these cases.

How can I stay clear of phrase structure mistakes?

You should constantly ensure that the code you copy and paste is 100% initial.

Never change the code unless you recognize what you are doing.

If you replicate code from an additional resource, ensure it is suitable before pasting it into your task.

If you are building an internet site or an application and are worried about making syntax mistakes.

Does your advancement operate in a local advancement environment? Create the growth atmosphere on your local equipment, back up the manufacturing site, apply the changes to the production site, and confirm that the updates have been made. Do not screw up or transform a running application or internet site.

Utilize the IDE’s built-in debugging devices. You might believe you’re composing clean code, yet using the IDE’s integrated debugging tools is always an excellent suggestion before signing off on your code.

Utilize an IDE with time- and error-saving features such as sufficiently composed color codes, automated modification of typical syntax mistakes, and joint command conclusion. The best IDE will help you deal with most syntax mistakes before you try to compile your code.

Make sure you comprehend the phrase structure guidelines of the show’s language you are utilizing. This means reading the documents and tutorials for the show’s language to understand how to utilize it efficiently; a Google search will commonly provide helpful information.

Recognize the distinction between keywords and reserved words. Some key phrases imply data mining.

You know the difference between variable names and also function names. For example, a range named “marry” can be complex because it can likewise be a feature. Similarly, a “get Name” feature can be complex because it does not return anything.

Spell check It is straightforward to make punctuation blunders, especially if you are new to the program’s language. Make sure you do not mix top as well as reduced instance letters.

How to correct grammatical mistakes in WordPress?

Syntax mistakes are something you discover all the time when dealing with WordPress. They can be very frustrating, especially when you remain in job mode. This plain error can create your whole website to drop, which can be problematic if you don’t have sufficient experience managing this type of mistake.

Here’s precisely how to fix syntax errors in WordPress.

WordPress syntax mistakes

WordPress is one of the most prominent material management systems (CMS). It has practical features and also is very adjustable. Nonetheless, it is prone to syntax mistakes. These mistakes are primarily because of incorrect use of PHP coding. If you wish to correct these errors, adhere to these actions.

Step 1: Inspect your website for errors

Before you begin repairing, you ought to inspect your website for errors. You can do this by clicking the “Control panel” in your WordPress dashboard. There you will certainly see a tab called “Network.” Click it, and also, you will certainly see all the mistakes.

If no errors are discovered, proceed to the following action.

Step 2: Address the trouble

We will now discuss just how to address the trouble. First, open up the documents where the mistake took place. Then discover the line number where the mistake took place. When you have discovered it, remove the line altogether. Currently, click on the “Conserve Modifications” switch.

If more than one line is impacted by mistake, repeat the process until the error no more takes place.

Step 3: Remove the code

You need to clean up the code when you have fixed the trouble. Remove unnecessary remarks, spaces, and blank lines. Likewise, ensure there are no added rooms after the closing brackets.

Repairing phrase structure errors using FTP

When this error happens, it isn’t easy to access the website. You will undoubtedly require adjustments, such as erasing the code or correcting the phrase structure. Follow the actions below to modify the code.

1. Use FTP to access the file you edited previously.

2. Install an FTP program.

3. Connect to the website.

4. Navigate to the theme documents you wish to edit.

5. Please remove the code you wrote last time or revise it with the correct phrase structure. 6.

These directions will repair the error. You only need to follow the proper phrase structure policies when creating code. If you duplicate code from one more website, see that the code you paste does not have syntax mistakes. We hope this short article will certainly aid you in repairing the errors.

How do I know if my website is safe?  

There are several ways to examine if a website is protected. Right here is one means to examine if a site is protected.

Visitors to the website will first notice the URL. Many internet browsers present the URL in the browser bar. When you go to a site, you ought to constantly inspect that the URL displayed in the web browser matches the URL of the website. If the URLs do not match, you should review the site to examine if the issue has been taken care of.

The 2nd thing many seek on internet sites is a safety and security certificate. This certificate suggests that the site is legitimate and reliable. Several websites make use of SSL certifications to recognize themselves to visitors.

When inspecting protection certifications, ensure the site’s firm has authorized the certificate. If the certificate is not trusted, the website might be fraudulent.

One more critical variable is the kind of security the internet site utilizes. Encryption can stop cyberpunks from stealing individual details. Internet sites use two encryption methods: HTTPS (Hypertext Transfer Method Secure) and also HTTP (HTTP Secure). Both methods work yet provide various degrees of security.

HTTPS is more protected than HTTP. This indicates all information sent online with HTTPS is secured before it reaches its location. Data is decrypted after it gets to its destination.

This makes it more difficult for cyberpunks to intercept and swipe data. Nevertheless, HTTPS is much slower than HTTP since all transmitted information is encrypted. Additionally, different actions are needed to set up an HTTPS connection.

You can check whether a website is protected by using an online device supplied by Google. Go into the URL address in the search box and click ‘I’m Feeling Lucky.’ As soon as the outcomes are shown, you can see the protection certification and the encryption method used.

Wrapping UP

That’s it; you have learned how to deal with mistakes in WordPress phrase structure. If the issue lingers, do not hesitate to contact us. We can assist you in resolving these bothersome mistakes.

For even more protection, check out Fix Hacked Site. This website security checker scans your site for malware, removing it automatically and protecting your site from attack.

The post Debugging Website Syntax Errors: Tips and Tricks for Avoiding Common Mistakes appeared first on Fix Hacked Site.

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[a-pop-of-korean]

hey! if you have time do you mind doing a breakdown of ddaeng by bts? thank you!

안녕하세요! Yes I can -- thanks for your patience! I used Genius’s Korean lyrics and their English translation of this song to help me out with this breakdown! I used Naver Dictionary as well. Let’s start!

일팔, 일삼, 삼팔, 땡 / You wrong, me right, 잘 봐 땡 / 학교종 울려라, brr brr, 땡 / 야 이번 생은 글렀어, 넌 땡 

18, 13, 38, ddaeng / You wrong, me right, look closely, ddaeng / Ring the school bell, brr brr, ddaeng / Your life is wrong, you’re ddaeng

일팔, 일삼, 삼팔 = These are all numbers from the game Seotda, which Genius states, “uses cards known as Hwatu, [and] 38 Gwang Ddaeng is the highest scoring combination of cards you can play. 13 Gwang Ddaeng and 18 Gwang Ddaeng are the second highest.” This is supposed to show how BTS is one of the most popular bands in the word despite their previous hardships.

땡 is an onomatopoeia for when a wrong answer is given, like a buzzer on a game show.

잘 = well

봐 -> 보다 = to look; to see 

학교종 = school bell

울려라 = ring

울리다 = to ring 

[stem] + 아/어라 is a way to command informally.

야 = hey

이번 = this; this time

생 = life

글렀어 -> 그르다 = incorrect; wrong

그르다 is conjugated into the past tense, even though it sounds like the present tense, because when you are incorrect about something, you already gave an answer and already made the mistake.

이번 생은 글렀어 literally means “this life is wrong,” but means “your life is wrong.”

잠깐만 멈춰봐, 얼음 땡 

Stop for just a moment, ice ddaeng

잠깐만 = just a moment

멈춰봐 = stop

멈추다 = to stop

[stem] + 아/어보다 is used for when you’re attempting something or telling someone to try doing something.

이 성공, uh / 네 덕분, uh / 웃기지 웃기지, 얘 / 어이없이 느끼지, 얘 / 솔직히 지들이, 얘 / 왜 저리 난리인지, 얘 / 차분히 생각해, 얘 / 시간은 많기에, 얘 / 이건 숙제야 숙제, 얘 / 못 풀면 네 문제는 땡

This success, uh / Thanks to you, uh / Isn’t it funny? / Don’t you feel ridiculous? / Honestly, these people / Why are they making such a fuss? / Think calmly about it / We have all day / This is homework / If you can’t solve it, your problem is ddaeng

이 성공 = this success

이 = this -> must be put before a noun

성공 = success

네 덕분 = thanks to you

[noun] + 덕분(에) = thanks to [noun]

웃기지 = Isn’t it funny?

웃기다 = to be funny

[stem] + 지 gives the nuance of “isn’t it funny?”

얘, according to Genius, has a double meaning: it can either be an exclamation like “yeah,” or it can be the third-person informal pronoun meaning he/she/they.  

어이없이 is the adverb version of 어이없다, which means ridiculous 

느끼다 = to feel   

솔직히 is the adverb form of 솔직하다, which means “honest.”

지들 = these people; you guys

-이 is a subject particle. More on particles here!

왜 = why

저리 = like that

난리인지 -> 난리 = fuss

[stem] + (으)ㄴ/는지 is used for asking an indirect question. Put altogether, the sentence is “think calmly about why they are making such a fuss.”

Genius’s English translation says these lines mean “To be honest, I think calmly about why they make such a fuss.” This makes sense too; I just think that it’s a little unclear if they’re commanding someone or referring to themselves. Perhaps it can go either way! If I’m missing something though, someone please let me know!

차분히 = calmly -> 차분하다 = calm

생각하다 = to think

시간은 많다 = to have a lot of time

I think adding -기에 is a way to mean “because,” as in “think calmly because we have a lot of time.” I pretty much only see this in songs though, not so much in everyday spoken Korean.

이건 = 이것은 = This

숙제 = homework

못 = can’t

풀다 = to solve

[stem] + (으)면 = if...

네 = your (informal)

문제 = problem

이 음악은 똥이야, bae / 배알 꼴리겠지만, bae / 니 주장이 다 맞아, bae / 우린 망해가고 있네 / 빌보드, 니 덕분이야, bae / 우리 위 아무도 없네 / 우린 망해가고 있기 thanks

This music is shit, bae / You must be annoyed, bae / But your assertions are all right, bae / There’s no one above us / Because we are failing, thanks

음악 = music

똥 = poop; shit

배알 꼴리다 = to be annoyed; be offended

니 is the same thing as 네, but is technically the wrong way to spell it. Both, however, are pronounced 니. 

주장 = assertions

다 = all

맞다 = correct

우리 = we; us

망해가다 = to fail

[stem] + 고 있다 = present progressive -> equivalent to English -ing

[stem] + 네 is a way to express surprise

“우린 망해가고 있기에 thanks” is sarcastic according to Genius because BTS is actually very successful

Thanks for the request -- I had fun with this one! If you have a song you’d like to see broken down, let me know and I’ll try to fulfill your request! See you in the next lesson! 다음에 또 봐요!

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[samwisethewitch]

Why Your Spells Don’t Work

You set your intention. You had all the correct correspondences. You even timed your spell with the appropriate moon phase. And yet -- no results. What gives? 

Failed spells happen to the best of us, and for a variety of reasons. But a spell gone wrong doesn’t necessarily mean that magic isn’t real or that you’re bad at witchcraft. Magic is complicated, and there are a lot of reasons it might not behave the way you want it to. Here are some of the most common causes of ineffective spells: 

1. Lack of real-world follow through

Magic is meant to be used as a tool to supplement your mundane efforts -- not as a substitute for them. How can you expect your job hunting spell to bring in results if you aren’t applying for jobs? 

Magic does not exist in a vacuum, and it can’t make something out of nothing. If a spell doesn’t bring you the desired result, make sure that your non-magical actions are aligned with what you are trying to manifest. 

2. What you’re trying to manifest isn’t a realistic possibility

Wait, what? Isn’t magic supposed to be, well... magic? Shouldn’t you be able to ask for whatever you want and get it? Yes and no.

Magic is simply a way of directing energy. Magic can’t defy the natural laws of the universe. It can’t make something happen unless it was already a potential possibility.

If your intention is unrealistic for where you are right now, try splitting it up into a multi-step process. No spell is going to make you a billionaire overnight, but magic could help you get hired at a better paying job... and then get promoted... and then get offered a profitable side gig... etc. Starting small and working your way up is always going to produce stronger results, because you laid the foundation first.

3. Your intention was either too vague or too specific 

Whether you use written petitions or spoken incantations, clearly stating your intention is an important part (maybe THE most important part) of any spell or ritual. A good intention is specific enough to get you the results you want, but open enough to let those results manifest naturally.

Let’s say you do a money spell, and your intention for the spell is simply, “I have more money.” If you find a penny on the ground the next day and pick it up, technically that is more money than you had before. A better alternative would be to use an intention like, “I have enough money to buy ___,” or “I have enough money for everything I need and want.”

Using an intention that is too specific creates the opposite problem. Let’s say you want to manifest a scholarship to a specific school. You do a candle spell with the intention, “I have been chosen for the John Smith Scholarship at Jane Doe University.” But maybe the John Smith scholarship had already been awarded by the time you did your spell. Maybe there’s another scholarship at the same school that would be a better fit for you, or maybe you’re eligible for a grant that would make tuition more affordable. A better intention for your spell would be “I have enough financial aid to easily and affordably attend Jane Doe University.”

Magic always follows the path of least resistance, so you want to make sure that your intention is specific enough to give your magic a clear direction, but open enough to allow it some flexibility. 

4. Lack of focus/concentration

We all know the struggle. You’ve been planning this ritual forever, and it’s finally the full moon, but you’ve got a really full schedule today. If you hurry, you can probably squeeze it into the thirty minute window between school and work, right? 

If you say a few quick words and burn some incense before you head out the door in the morning, that totally counts as a spell, right? 

Not so much. Rushed, lazy, and/or half-assed spells rarely, if ever, work. Spells revolve around the raising and direction of energy, and that requires two things: a clear intention (see above) and intense focus on that intention. If you don’t have the time/energy/mental capacity to focus, it’s best to take a break, have a self care day, and come back to your spell some other time. 

5. You’re subconsciously blocking your own results OR you did a spell for someone else who isn’t open to it

I decided to lump these two together, because they’re different variations of the same issue. 

Whenever you are doing magic on yourself, it’s important that your mindset is aligned with your intentions. You can do love spells all day long, but if deep down you don’t believe that you’re worthy of love, that belief is going to block your spells from working. This is why mindfulness, psychology, and self care are all such important parts of a successful witchcraft practice. It’s also why I recommend doing the mental work before you sit down to ritual. 

If you did a spell on yourself, or are trying to manifest something for yourself, and it just isn’t working, I highly recommend setting some time aside for journaling and meditation and asking yourself 1.) if this is really what you want, and 2.) if you truly believe that you can have it.

The whole mindset thing gets even more tricky when you’re doing magic on behalf of another person, because their energy is also at work in the situation and could be at odds with yours. For example, if you do a spell to help a friend land a job, but that friend believes that they’re totally underqualified and could never get it, they probably won’t get the job even if you did everything “right” in your spell. 

This should go without saying, but it is extremely unethical to use magic to mess around in someone else’s head. Even if you think you know what’s best for them, they need to be open to it. If someone is blocking the spells you do on their behalf, all you can do is try to be supportive and find other ways to help them out.

Other (Rare) Reasons for Failed Spells

If a spell goes wrong, it will almost always be for one of the above reasons. But maybe you did everything “right” -- you did the mental work first, had a strong, realistic intention, put lots of focus into your spell, and followed through in real life -- and you still aren’t seeing results. There are a couple of other things that could be blocking your spells, but they’re very uncommon so I’m not going to talk about them in as much detail. These may be things you want to look into if you really, genuinely can’t think of any other cause. 

It’s possible that another witch has done magic that cancels out or blocks yours. This is not common, and it does NOT mean that someone has cursed you. It could be as simple as two witches unknowingly casting spells with opposite intentions, which end up cancelling each other out. (For example, maybe two different people both cast a spell to get the same job. Obviously, they can’t both get that job.) This is why it’s never a bad idea to incorporate a protective element into your spells to block outside interference.

There is a very, very remote possibility that someone has placed a curse on you specifically to block your magic. However -- and I cannot stress this enough -- this is VERY uncommon. If you were cursed you would know it, or at least know that something was very wrong in your life. If you feel like you have been cursed or hexed, I recommend looking into uncrossing spells, which are specifically designed to undo negative magic.

It’s also possible that a higher power is intervening. This doesn’t necessarily have to be a deity, although it certainly could be. Most witches believe in some form of fate or destiny, and it’s possible that your spell didn’t work because what you asked for is not in alignment with your destiny. In these situations, really the only thing you can do is surrender to the bigger picture. 

[nugnthopkns]

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence. 

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something. 

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place. 

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more. 

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy. 

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain. 

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus. 

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over. 

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at. 

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why. 

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck. 

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste. 

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault. 

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize. 

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals. 

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things. 

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting. 

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person. 

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe. 

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better. 

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water. 

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands. 

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats. 

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program. 

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating. 

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack. 

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you. 

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked. 

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything. 

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home. 

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days. 

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice. 

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs. 

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts. 

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes. 

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly. 

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight. 

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat. 

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment. 

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching. 

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode. 

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.” 

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself. 

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase. 

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting. 

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble. 

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.” 

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed. 

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to. 

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home. 

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate. 

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year. 

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters. 

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone. 

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask. 

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat. 

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches. 

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors. 

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates. 

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time. 

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score. 

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door. 

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended. 

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him. 

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah. 

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head. 

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel. 

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up. 

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom. 

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair. 

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump. 

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip. 

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps. 

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey. 

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you. 

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake. 

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye. 

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel. 

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you. 

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before. 

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice. 

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves. 

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates. 

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet. 

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone. 

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd. 

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals. 

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features. 

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda. 

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point. 

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

 It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase. 

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him. 

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months. 

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received. 

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper. 

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about. 

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list. 

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship. 

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them. 

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights. 

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.  

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop. 

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.” 

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience. 

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around. 

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door. 

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles. 

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years. 

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut. 

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?” 

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall. 

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?” 

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is. 

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete. 

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly. 

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction. 

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well. 

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much. 

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal. 

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror. 

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger. 

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates. 

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch. 

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city. 

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile. 

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift. 

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible. 

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable. 

“Good morning,” he repeats. 

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities. 

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off. 

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals. 

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine. 

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep. 

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front. 

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly. 

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay. 

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse. 

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.” 

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you. 

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself. 

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms. 

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot. 

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down. 

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help. 

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there. 

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater. 

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain. 

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength. 

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. 

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again. 

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink. 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @boqvistsbabe​ @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice​ if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 2. Arson

"But are we really sure it was arson?" Ron asked, loud enough to grate on Harry's nerves.

He loved Ron, he really did, but it was 3:00 in the morning, and perhaps he'd hoped for a little bit of sensitivity due to the fact that a person's business had been burnt to the ground.

Harry sighed, "What else would it have been?"

"Maybe the git left one of his cauldrons lit," Ron said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Maybe he burned it himself for-"

"Weasley, I am independently wealthy, I did not burn my own apothecary down for the insurance money."

Harry winced and turned to face the shop owner. "Malfoy," he said inclining his head and ignoring the way his stomach fluttered as he took in the image of the other man in his silk pajamas.

At the glimpse of a collarbone peaking out, he renewed his efforts, emphatically not thinking about the way his skin had tasted as Harry had nibbled said collarbones. He definitely didn't allow himself to remember the way the other man's gorgeously toned, naked body had arched into him, flush spreading down his neck.

"Potter," he responded, and Harry absolutely didn't let himself remember the way his name had sounded in Malfoy's mouth when he'd come.

"No need to have a glaring contest, gentlemen," the scene processor said, snapping Harry out of the thoughts he certainly had not been having.

He cleared his throat and even though he hadn't been glaring, he let the misconception stand. Better for everyone to imagine he still hated Malfoy than for them to know what he had been thinking about.

Well, what he could have been thinking about, since he definitely was not thinking about the bloody phenomenal sex he'd had on one drunken night with Malfoy. That would be unprofessional.

(More under the cut)

"Right," Harry said, nodding to Malfoy, "Can you walk us through what happened?"

Malfoy squared his shoulders, "I was asleep-"

"You sleep in your shop?" Ron asked.

"There's a flat above the shop," Harry supplied.

Ron's brow furrowed, "How-"

Because I've been there, Harry thought. "It was in the floor plan," Harry said, handing Ron the stack of parchments they'd been given before leaving the Ministry. "Sorry, continue," he encouraged Malfoy.

Ron gaped at him, probably because he'd said 'sorry' to Malfoy, but Harry was too tired to be arsed to care.

"I was asleep in my flat," he repeated, "when my cat woke me up. He was scratching at the door and I went to let him out of the bedroom and smelled smoke the moment I opened the door. I couldn't even make it down the stairs," he said, and his voice trembled slightly, a tiny quiver of his hand.

Harry wanted to whisk him away, to wrap him up in a blanket and hide him where nothing would ever be able to hurt him again. Fire had been particularly cruel, anyone who knew anything about Draco Malfoy would have known he'd almost died in a fire once. Outrage filled his veins and Harry wanted to find whoever had done this and cause them to regret their actions.

He knew he wasn't entitled to feelings like these. There was no reason that he should feel protective of the other man but he just couldn't seem to help himself.

Before he could say anything, Ron spoke up, "We're going to need to take your wand."

"What?" Harry and Malfoy both said simultaneously.

"To make sure that you haven't cast any spells that would have caused this," he added.

"Weasley, the Ministry has a trace on my wand. Has for the past three years and will have for the next two until I am off probation. You don't need my wand, you have the entire record," Malfoy replied, with more patience than Harry would have imagined possible.

"Is this the only wand you have?" Ron asked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Yes but do you honestly think I would tell you if it wasn't?"

"Listen here, ferret-" Ron started.

"Could you excuse us for a second?" he asked Malfoy before walking Ron a few paces away. "Ron, let's remember that he's the victim here. This was a hate crime and we all know it. This was someone burning down his shop because of a perceived wrong-"

"Not just perceived, Harry," Ron corrected, shooting another glare at Malfoy. "Actual wrong."

"Fine," Harry conceded, "But I didn't bloody well die so that people could go on fighting a battle that's been won. He didn't do this and what is happening to him is wrong."

Ron scuffed his foot.

"Look, just," he huffed out a breath, "Let me handle him, okay? You start looking for evidence. I'll get Malfoy's statement. Then we'll get to work hunting down criminals."

"Yeah," Ron replied, giving him a thump on the arm. "When you're right, you're right, mate."

"Thanks," Harry replied. "I'll catch up with you in a minute once I get his statement."

Ron headed off toward the building and Harry turned and made his way back to Malfoy. He was just standing there, holding his fluffy black and white cat and staring at the charred remains of his life.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked softly.

"Yes, fine," Malfoy replied automatically, facing Harry and squaring his shoulders once more. "I was checked by the mediwizard who came with the fire crew."

"No," Harry said, taking a step closer and tilting his head until Malfoy met his eyes, "I mean are you alright?"

Malfoy closed his eyes and looked down at the cat in his arms, "I have to be, don't I?"

His heart ached for him, for how impossible it must be to be living his life, "Draco, I'll find them," he promised. "Whoever did this-"

"It doesn't matter!" Draco hissed at him. "Don't you see?" he asked, eyes shining wetly. "None of it matters. This," he said, gesturing to everything around them, "is never going to change." He held his cat closer to him. "You should have let them throw me in Azkaban."

"Draco-"

"Better yet, you should have left me to die in the Fiendfyre."

Harry stepped closer to him and threw up a wandless notice-me-not charm, "Draco, please."

"Stop calling me that!" the other man begged, tears welled up in his eyes.

"Listen to me," Harry said, voice low and calm, "everything is going to be okay. I will find the person who did this-"

"But it's just going to keep happening," he said. "Because they're right. Because Weasley is right, I have done horrible things and no one will ever forgive me for them-"

"I forgive you," Harry said.

Draco shook his head and a tear spilled down his cheek.

"I forgave you a long time ago," Harry said softly, wiping away the tear with his thumb. "You're a good person, Draco Malfoy. You were a little shit when you were younger but you never wanted to actually hurt anyone, you never wanted to do any of those things."

"But I did them," he said. "What I wanted doesn't matter if I did those things anyway."

"It matters to me," Harry replied. "Let me help you."

"How?"

He took a deep breath, "Do you have any suspicions about who did this? Has anyone come around bothering you?"

Silently, he handed Harry a list, a dirty scrap of parchment that he'd scribbled names onto.

"When I tell you that you're free to go, where will you go?" Harry asked next.

"I..." he trailed off and Harry realized he couldn't even come up with a lie.

"Harry Potter lives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place," he said before he could think of anything else.

Malfoy's brow furrowed.

"It's unplottable," Harry said, "I'm my own secret keeper for the house."

"Potter, I'm not just going to whore myself out to y-"

"No," he interrupted quickly. "Godric, no. I didn't mean-" he broke off, shaking his head. "No," he repeated. "I have six guest bedrooms." He thought for a moment, "Well, five, technically. One of them had a hippogriff living in it so I avoid having people in that one, but still."

"Why?" he asked. "Why would you do this for me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Draco opened his mouth and Harry continued over him, "It was rhetorical," he protested.

"Why? No one could possibly be that good."

He rolled his eyes, "I'm not. I just know what I died for and it wasn't this," he replied, gesturing at the smoldering wreckage. "You deserve a fair shot. Let me help. Please."

"Just a place to crash for the night," Draco said.

"Yes," Harry affirmed quickly. "Or a week, a month," forever he added internally. "I've got more than enough room. You won't even have to see me if you don't want to."

"And if I do?" he asked, voice almost shy.

"Then I'll be home in about an hour and I always eat breakfast at 7:30." He gave him a tentative smile, "And I would like to see you, too."

Day 1: Abilities | Day 3: Agility

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 4342 ⚬ warnings: brief drug mention ⚬ genres: mainly just fluff! college/uni!au

✧✎ synopsis: your longtime campus crush just received an interesting dare: to ask you out on a date. while the circumstances are questionable, you aren’t going to decline. maybe this is your ticket to romance. 

✧✎ a/n: if this title or plot sounds familiar, then that’s bc i finally accomplished a goal of mine: to rewrite i dare you. this was a fic i originally wrote in 2016!! i did change some aspects, so not everything is identical. PLS ENJOY ;w;

The bells to the café door jingled.

Normally, you wouldn’t be so attentive about the customers filtering in and out, but at that moment, your gaze shot over the lid of your laptop like a harpoon. It was roughly the right time, the right day. According to your judgement, this was when they usually came for their morning coffees. Jeonghan, Joshua, and Seungcheol: a very popular trio amongst the likings of your campus.  

Jeonghan was a nursing student. Clean-cut, charming to a degree of annoyance, and always ordered a boring black coffee. The second boy, Joshua, was cute enough to stop you in your tracks and force a double-take. However, he liked mathematics, numbers, weird formulas which looked more torture than learning. He preferred lattes with foam. And then there was Seungcheol. You wouldn’t call him your true love, because you didn’t know him all that well, and as far as he was concerned you were the lunatic who accidentally set pages of Joshua’s chemistry homework on fire. But that was a story for another day (you haven’t been near that Yankee candle since).

Nonetheless, you were crushing on him. Badly. To the point where you arrived at the café early, pretending to type a document on your laptop, just so you could flit your eyes every so often at his table while he slurped his chocolate mocha. You even had their scheduling memorized. It was a bit weird, and you would be the first to admit such a thing, but nothing was going to thwart you from daydreaming about those eyes of his. Or that dazzling smile. His short bursts of laughter which were usually tweezed out at Jeonghan pulling some stupid prank on Joshua. Everything about you adored him.

The trio gathered at their usual table, sat obliquely to your nook by the window. You had opened an older document that was already finished, pretended to tap against the keys while they ate a small breakfast before class. Something was different. They were giggling more than usual. And you couldn’t help but blatantly stare with concern when Joshua tore open a salt packet and poured it straight on his tongue. Jeonghan was grinning so widely that you were positive his face must be aching, and Seungcheol cackled into his fist while Joshua immediately grabbed for his latte.

A game. They were playing some sort of game.

Once Joshua had recovered, you noted that he began surveying the café, running his narrowed gaze to each table.

The second he found you huddled in the corner, attempting to shrink behind your laptop and pretend your presence was nothing but invisible, Joshua leaned into Seungcheol’s side to make a very smiley whisper. Pretend I’m working, pretend I’m working on something so damn important I can’t look up for even a second, you reiterated to yourself quietly, ignoring the panic ballooning inside you. A minute later, someone had just pulled out the chair across from you. They sat down with a slight groan, clasping their hands together.

Of course, it was Seungcheol.

“Hey.” He said, watching as you tentatively lowered the lid of your laptop, probably wondering why the hell you looked so stunned.

“What are you, um, doing?” You asked.

Seungcheol could not be sitting across from you just because he wanted to. It was impossible. And as much as that stung to admit, you knew the truth was simply that. He was definitely put up to this.

“We know each other pretty well, correct?” The boy completely ignored your question. “I know that you set Josh’s chem notes on fire. We take toxicology together. Need I say more?”

“Wow,” you replied, twiddling your fingers anxiously under the table, “that’s a whole two things. I can’t even count that high.”

“We can’t all be mathematicians,” Seungcheol moved the conversation along while he angled a white jar of sugar, “and I guess I should tell you, I’m in a predicament, which involves you.”

Your hands squeezed together so firmly that they nearly moulded into permanent fists. Seungcheol was staring at you now rather than flickering his gaze between the objects on the table, with those eyes as dark as sapphire. You were burning up, sweltering, felt like you needed to burst from your clothes and bathe in ice.

“A predicament?”

Seungcheol folded his muscular arms on the table and nodded. “Yeah, I got a dare from Josh. To ask you out. The thing is, I’m not supposed to tell you. But you seem like a nice girl.”

You swallowed very tautly and pushed down the lid of your laptop a little more. Over Seungcheol’s shoulder, you spotted both Joshua and Jeonghan observing, chuckling amongst themselves.

“Another thing,” Seungcheol added, raking a hand through his black locks, “I don’t want to lose to tweedle-dumb and tweedle-idiot over there – you can decide who’s who – so you should accept.”

Straightening your posture against the chair, you decided to spell out the situation, more for your sake than Seungcheol’s. “Let me get this straight. You got dared to ask me out. You have nothing better to do tomorrow night, so you accepted it. And I don’t have a choice.”

“Your wording is a bit disparaging. But essentially, yeah.” He leaned back with a gorgeous smile, turning up his palm. “So, down?”

At that moment, you could not believe the universe had just ladled this ridiculous possibility into your lap. A date with your biggest crush on campus. A date that so many people would be wrangling your neck to steal from you – even if it was based on an innocuous little game which Seungcheol refused to submit because he was too competitive at heart. It might not have been your most prideful choice in life, but you accepted. Any chance to spend the night with him would not be wasted as long as the offer stood.

However, you had one condition.

“I’ll do it,” you grinned, watching the boy’s expression perk like a child who just got handed a cookie, “on the account of another dare. Which you’ll find out on our fake date.”

“Fine.” Seungcheol shrugged, sliding his phone across the table so that you could enter your number. He stood up afterward, on the verge of returning to his friends when he suddenly paused.

“See you tomorrow night, sweetheart.”

There was such a rush of butterflies in your stomach, you were surprised one hadn’t flown out your mouth.

You didn’t know why you cared so much about a date that was most likely intended to humiliate you. Was Joshua still not over those chemistry sheets? Even after you spent a good two hours in the library attempting to rewrite them with your nicest, smoothest gel pel? Thoughts of what to wear, your style of makeup, and which perfume you should choose amongst the few on your dresser were awfully overwhelming. In fact, you were almost late to the park, the area Seungcheol had picked as a rendezvous point.

He rose from the bench in front of the duck pond once you arrived, checking the time on his wrist while making a tsking sound.

“Four and a half minutes late,” Seungcheol said, shaking his head, “you’re not making a good first impression, my lady.”

Obviously, you weren’t going to admit how you were stressing about a technically-fake date. In the end, you threw on a simple outfit and applied some lipstick on your way out the door, shoving the tube into a small purse hung over your shoulder. It’s not like he was treating you to a five-star restaurant by romantic candlelight. But if he ever did, you had the perfect outfit planned.

“Well, I’m here now. And with your dare.” You grinned.

Seungcheol stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Let’s hear it.”

“I dare you to buy me a week of coffee.”

At first, Seungcheol didn’t utter a thing. But then he erupted into a fit of laughter until his cheeks turned rosy like peaches.

“That’s not how this works,” he half-sighed, half-chuckled while removing a tear from his eye, “I’m rejecting it.”

“You can’t reject it! You definitely owe me. I didn’t let you lose to tweedle-dumb or tweedle-idiot. Plus, it’s low to ask someone out on a dare. I didn’t even have to show up.”  Ensuring your tone was confident, you folded your arms over your chest, raised your brow at the boy, and observed him as he tapped his foot in contemplation.

“Can I have time to consider?” Seungcheol asked.

While it was tough to capitulate so easily and let him have his way, you didn’t want to spend the entirety of your night standing next to a slimy pond, debating the regulations. So you bit the bullet. Besides, Seungcheol announced that there was a party he needed to stop by, that there was a particular someone to which he owned money. It was a short walk to this brick house that reverberated with music, cars stalled up and down the street while a flood of strobing colours illuminated in the windows. Seungcheol knocked on the door quite loudly, and then he reached for your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours. You shot him a puzzled glance just as the door swung open, the stench of marijuana mingling with the cool, night air.  

“Well, well, well,” a fox-eyed boy murmured after taking a long puff from his blunt, “Choi Seungcheol. It’s about damn time.”

“I was in the neighbourhood. Heard you and Soonyoung were lighting this place up. What a good turnout, huh?”

“Mmhm,” the other boy hummed unenthusiastically, leaning his wide shoulder against the doorframe, “you got the money or no?”

Seungcheol laughed. “C’mon, Wonwoo. We don’t even get to go inside? Hang out for a bit? Have a drink? You’re a shitty host.”

Wonwoo slid a finger under his chin, rubbing in contemplation. It was starting to get colder out, for you could hear the tree leaves rustling together as a wind whisked through the dark. You squished yourself a bit closer into Seungcheol’s side, and to your surprise, he let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Finally, Wonwoo concurred, sticking the rolled paper back between his lips while stepping aside with an inviting gesture.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” the boy muttered, “but I’ll be coming to find you in about ten minutes. And I wanna see cash.”

“What’s his problem?” You whispered by Seungcheol’s ear as he guided you around an illy lit corner, into the kitchen.

His warm breath feathered your ear as he said, “I lost a couple bets to him and was slow getting the money back.” Seungcheol then grabbed two solo cups organized in a stack on the counter, filling each with a red, fruit-mixed alcohol which sat in two glass bowls.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”

You accepted the cup and took a sip. “Oh, in case you needed to beat him up? I don’t know,” you lilted,  “he looks pretty sturdy.”

“Are you kidding?” Seungcheol gawked.

He slapped his drink down on the counter and threw his jacket over the back of a chair. With a perplexed, is this man crazy expression, you watched him roll up his sleeve and flex his bicep.

“Go ahead,” the boy grinned, “you’ll see.”

You made sure to roll your eyes and sigh incredibly loud in order to really establish your indifference. Meanwhile, your inner-self was fizzling like a carbonated soda. Grabbing onto Seungcheol’s muscle, you pressed down, forcing back a surprised chuckle at the fact his arm was hard as a rock. In that moment your meter of attraction toward the boy was ticking so absurdly you thought it could break.

“Okay, I’ll give it to you, Seungcheol. You’re strong.”

He tugged his sleeve back down and slid into the jacket again, a very brash smirk beaming on his face. You couldn’t decipher if he’d actually been attempting to impress you or if that was just a display of his cockiness. And yet, you didn’t really care which category it fell into, because you were still blissfully afloat thinking about Seungcheol’s arms. You lifted your drink and took another sip, swishing the sweet but tangy flavour between your cheeks. At that moment, a man you didn’t recognize attempted to scoot behind you – except there was definitely enough room for him to get by without planting his hands on your hips and squeezing them.

“Hey! What the hell?” You squeaked, quickly turning around on your heel to see the crookedly amused look he stared at you with.

“What?” He somehow had the audacity to respond.

But you weren’t going to accept his disgraceful maneuvers, and neither was Seungcheol. He abandoned his cup on the counter and pushed up his sleeves.

“Did you just put your hands on her?” Came his demand. It didn’t sound like the normal, relaxed Seungcheol who liked his jokes, but someone with an unnerving amount of authority and fearlessness.

“I-I was trying to get by.” The man stammered, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of confrontation. He was already stepping backward as Seungcheol approached him.

“Don’t touch other people like that,” Seungcheol admonished him in a deep, staid voice, then pointed toward the threshold of the kitchen, “just get out, man. Seriously. Don’t even go near her.” And like a saddened puppy who received a scolding from its owners to lay down in the pen, the man slinked away without another word.

You were unsure of what to say to Seungcheol for diminishing the situation. Folding your arms tightly, you nodded at him.

“Thanks.”

Wonwoo came wandering into the kitchen. His eyes brightened the moment he saw Seungcheol, and he rubbed his fingers together to wordlessly convey that he wanted his money now.

“It’s alright,” Seungcheol gave you a soft smile while he revealed a large wad of cash from his pocket, “he was a weirdo.”

“Yeah.” You laughed as Seungcheol handed the sum to his friend, who fleshed out the paper notes to count the correct amount.

It took you a moment to realize that Seungcheol’s arm had wrapped back around your shoulders, this time a bit more securely.  When you leaned into him, it wasn’t because you felt a draft or a chill, but because he was comfortable. He felt and smelled like safety.

Later that night, you returned to the park, throwing stones into the duck pond while the moon was hidden behind a thin curtain of clouds. Seungcheol claimed that he could throw his stones farther than yours, which prompted your short-lived competition. It had ended so abruptly because you ran out of stones to throw. At one point you tried tossing sticks, but they didn’t travel as far, and they definitely didn’t break the surface of the water with a satisfying plop.

“Hey,” Seungcheol said, nudging your elbow excitedly, “I dare you to get in the pond.”

“No way!” You cackled. “It’s freezing. And that pond is nasty.”

“Just dip your toe in or something.”

“You dip your toe in!”

“I don’t wanna take off my socks.”

You huffed, a plume of your breath escaping into the crisp air.

“Well, we’re at a crossroads then, aren’t we?”

Rather than continue bickering about the dare, you were starting to feel these annoying hunger pangs. You didn’t eat dinner because of how nervous you were toward this fake date (which was rapidly morphing into a very real date) with Seungcheol. The most you ate today had been some toast and pieces of apple your roommate cut the night before. Directly on cue, your stomach gurgled, and your face swelled hot with embarrassment. Seungcheol grinned.

“Hungry?”

“Starving, more like.” You corrected him.

He pulled out the white fabric liners of his pockets, revealing they were completely empty. “All my cash went to Wonwoo.”

You flashed a playful smile while repeating his statement from earlier. “Oh, wow. Not being able to cover the meal on a first date? You’re not making a good impression, sweetheart.”

In an instant, Seungcheol had snatched your hand, interlocking your fingers together warmly. He began tugging you out of the park and onto a familiar street, where there was a twenty-four-hour diner that the students absolutely loved. Admittedly, you had been there a few times. Once as a giggly drunk who just wanted a waffle plate at three in the morning, and also as a struggling student who was desperate for a cup of coffee in order to power through a procrastinated essay. Now, it seemed you were returning for a date.

“I’ll pay you back, promise.” Seungcheol said as the server placed a nacho platter onto the table. “It’s my new priority.”

The diner was quiet and mostly empty apart from a group of three seated at another table. You didn’t realize just how hungry you were until that first taste of melted cheese, salsa, and seared chicken hit your mouth. Seungcheol didn’t like black olives, so he kept picking them off. You were eating too ravenously to inspect your food.

“You’re taking the olives off?” You smirked. “Baby.”

Seungcheol scoffed. “I am not a baby.” He looked up at you as he shoved another delicious chip in his mouth. “And I know it gives you some sick, twisted pleasure to say that. You should be ashamed.”

Nearly choking on the water you just sipped, you dropped the  cup back on the table to cough a few times.

“You know what’s sick? The fact I’m paying.”

The boy reached for his glass of coca cola. “Yeah, but technically this isn’t a real date. So, doesn’t count.”

“Really?” Raising a questioned eyebrow, you watched Seungcheol take a long gulp from his drink. “Are you willing to say that with your entire chest? That this isn’t a real date?”

And in that moment, Seungcheol genuinely seemed to have met a stupor. In fact, there was a red tint dusting the crest of each his cheeks. He leaned back in the booth, folded his arms over his chest, and pursed his lips. You waited patiently for his response, lifting a nacho to your mouth while threads of cheese dangled in the air.

A smile broke through his stiff, musing expression.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, “maybe this is a real date,” (your heart impossibly fluttered), “you could be right about that.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You answered.

In truth, you couldn’t have been more delighted to hear Seungcheol agree, because if he hadn’t, you would have dined and dashed, fled straight out the restaurant in a haze of shame and embarrassment. In the span of just a few hours, your attraction toward this boy had impressively expanded like a sponge soaking up water. Before, you weren’t positive that he could be your true love. It was mostly a running joke between you and… well, yourself. However, this one night was proving that perhaps your joke could have some actual weight to it. And as Seungcheol continued to make you laugh, choke on your food, stare at him in complete adoration like he was a crowned jewel, you completely lost track of time.

It wasn’t until you burst into another frenzy of laughter at his story and spilt water all down your shirt that you finally checked your phone. Almost one in the morning. The server whisked your cutlery and plates away with a tired expression. You tipped generously, feeling rather guilty for creating such a racket at this hour.

“Do you want my jacket?” Seungcheol asked as you prepared to leave. There was a huge water stain soaking through your shirt.

“A-Are you sure?” You asked him, pulling a few strands of hair from your face. He nodded, already wrestling the jacket off.

“Go change, sweetheart,” Seungcheol told you so casually that you couldn’t hide this blatant look of surprise, “I’ll wait outside.”

Entering a washroom stall, you peeled the damp shirt over your head and folded it to pack nicely within your purse. You then slipped into Seungcheol’s jacket, which had this wonderful, warm fleece patched to the inside. It was soft against your bare skin, and it smelled like a fragrant hint of his cologne. After spending an extra moment freshening up at the sink, you wandered back into the cool night, where Seungcheol was leaning against a street pole. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks at the late hour, or if he’d actually given you a very smug, very relishing once-over.

Considering you had class early the next day, you asked Seungcheol if he’d be willing to walk you home. He obliged, and you paced together in comfortable silence until reaching the bridge. It arched over a swirling, gushing river which ran through the city, the current black as kohl and reflecting the lights of the nearby architecture. In the daytime this bridge wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was a beautiful vantage point during the night; a place to watch the city sparkle and flash like the cosmos.

“Hey,” Seungcheol whispered, grabbing your hand, “I have another dare for you, since you chickened out on the pond.”

You looked at the mischief compiling in his gaze. “What?”

“Climb up there.”

Seungcheol pointed toward a thick, metal beam that slanted upward, like a ramp. It flattened out at the top, and sometimes when you walked by during the day, there would be a few students sitting down after class, eating sandwiches or cracking open sodas. A placement of bars was set behind, only wide enough to stick your leg through. You glanced back at Seungcheol and nodded.

“Okay, fine.”

And so you began to climb up the slanted beam, feeling the breeze nip at your cheeks, your hair, like the smallest of kisses. At the flattened section, you turned around and looked down at Seungcheol, feeling like the empress of a powerful kingdom. His face ignited in the moonlight. He was smiling very wide as you stuck out your tongue.

“Easy. I dare you to climb up here.”

Seungcheol shook his head. “I, uh, can’t.”

“Why not?” You laughed, folding your arms. “Scared?”

“No, I just—I twisted my ankle, so I can’t.”

“When was that?”

“You weren’t looking.”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to tease him. Taking the zipper dangling from his jacket, you began to pull it down slowly, revealing a hidden amount of skin which turned the boy’s face an adorable pink.

“If you come up here, I’ll take the jacket all the way off.” You sang in a promiscuous tone, lifting up the strap of your bra and snapping it. Seungcheol grinned, cupping a hand over his gaze.

“No way. I’m not falling into a trap like that.”

“Fine,” you huffed, lowering to your butt and carefully scooting your way down the metallic beam, “you missed out.”

Seungcheol merely held his tongue; however, he did take the zipper on his jacket and pull it back up, right to your chin, hiding the expanse of flesh from the bright moonlight. You weren’t sure what courageous energy had just taken over your body. In fact, you’d probably regret such a thing by the time your alarm clock erupted tomorrow morning, pulling you from the pit of your sleep.

“I don’t want you getting cold.” He said. “And I can’t believe you nearly gave me a strip tease from the support beam of a bridge. That’s a first.”

“I’m just making sure you don’t forget this date.” You chuckled, half in nonsense, half in truth.

As he promised, Seungcheol walked you back to the house and made sure the door unlocked using the spare key under the letter box. Thankfully, your roommate left the lights of the front porch on, the bulbs now swathed in grey moths. It was a strange night. A night that wouldn’t have happened if not for the antics of Seungcheol and his two equally competitive friends. Maybe there was a positive side to burning Joshua’s chemistry notes, though you weren’t sure he’d be thrilled to hear you admit that. A game of I Dare You, turned into a fake date, turned into a real date, turned into a sweet affection.

You yawned, feeling the faint glisten of tears stretch in your eyes. “I had fun. And I guess I’ll see you tomorrow in toxicology.”

“With my jacket.” He reminded you.

“Yes, of course. With your jacket.”

And while you expected Seungcheol to simply bid his goodnight and perhaps take a late bus home, firing question after question of why he decided to accept such a stupid dare as he stared out the window, you were surprised when he reached for your hand.

“By the way,” he said, “I accept.”

You crinkled your nose. “Accept what?”

“The dare. I’ll buy you coffee every morning this week.”

“Oh!” There was a small flare crackling to life in your eyes as you recalled the original dare of the night. “That’s right. I forgot.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Seungcheol agreed. He then squeezed your hand. “On the account of one very simple condition.”

“I don’t think you can do that. Doesn’t seem rule-abiding.”

The boy discarded your comment. Instead, his grasp became tighter around your hand. He pulled you swiftly into his chest and stared straight into your helpless, panicking eyes as though he were going to confess something profound and utterly dire.

He smirked. “I want you to kiss me each time.”

Seungcheol lifted his brow in anticipation of your response, which was an undoubted agreement. Probably the fastest, easiest agreement you had ever made in your life. He moved in close to your ear, whispering something about how you should meet at the café tomorrow morning and walk to the lecture hall together, though you were ultimately buzzing and experiencing such a bold heartbeat that you missed most of the details. When he pulled away, you smiled.

“That sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Stepping off the porch, he turned back with a wave.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

✧✎ a/n: the reason i wanted to rewrite this fic was bc i still rly enjoy the concept. however, i cannot STAND my old style of writing, thus i decided to just rewrite the fic and appease the nagging in my head lol. this is how i would have written this fic today if i hadn’t already done so four years ago. i’m also questioning the possibility of rewriting love café for jeonghan (pls don’t go reading it if u haven’t already)  but that would take much longer ,,,, JUST AN IDEA THOUGH. i hope you enjoyed!!

[jarofstyles]

Teacher’s Pet

A/N: As requested, here is the first part of our professor!harry series. As usual, this we put our little twist on things and we hope that you enjoy! - n+d

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warning: smut, mutual masturbation, use of sex toys

word count: 6.2k

While Harry tried not to show favoritism in his courses, it was hard not to be caring towards the students that showed effort but struggled. That was the case with little Y/N. She was young, pretty, had a bit of an edge to her. From what he had noticed she was kind and often let people borrow pens and once gave a diabetic classmate her muffin when she saw he was a bit pale and taking his blood sugar. 

He wasn’t everyone’s favorite professor. He was a tough grader, had a bit of a resting ‘bitch’ face, and he wasn’t necessarily warm and fuzzy. It wasn’t what Harry wanted at all— but it had to be done so that the students wouldn’t just see him as a peer. He had learned that early in. He had to be strict and get respect or he would be stuck with slackers or people who thought he would ‘do them a solid’ as one student had tried to ask with a fist bump. But when it came to sweet students with dyed hair, a devastated little pout, and even watery eyes, he knew he would have to say something. 

‘If you would like some help, please come to my office any time after 4. I would be happy to assist in figuring out the material.’

It was written next to a poor grade. He could tell that she had potential— she just wasn’t getting it. He also worried about her word usage. If what he thought of was correct, it would make sense why she was struggling.

School was never one of Y/N’s strong suits. From the beginning of her school career she struggled with getting the hang of concepts and her teachers grew a distaste for her because they thought she wasn’t trying. Y/N was a hard worker though, she did genuinely try, but her best was never enough. A few teachers pointed out that she might have a learning disability, but her parents denied that ever being a case. Her other siblings, both older and younger, were able to grasp concepts easily and were all incredible book smart in addition to being talented outside of school. It seemed that Y/N was just the bad apple of the bunch. Her parents would joke, but of course it hurt. She didn’t even want to go to college originally, but her parents forced her to at least try and get a degree so she wouldn’t be a low life. Y/N only agreed because they said they’d keep paying for her band. Of course, you can only really go to college if you pass though and Y/N wasn’t doing too well. 

Professor Styles had always intimidated her, but he just took his job seriously. She could tell by the way he talked about everything that he was passionate about making sure people understood the deeper meaning behind these books and Y/N could appreciate that. It was just a shame that she struggled so much in his class. There were students that excelled in his classes and he was always giving them praise, little surprised smiles and nods, a small ‘good job’ or ‘correct, yes’ here and there. Y/N found herself wanting to try harder in his classes just to get a praise out of him, but she was too nervous to raise her hand even when she did know the answer. This was her third time getting a not so passing grade in this class and Y/N was growing more and more frustrated. She understood the material, or she felt like she did, but whenever it came to reading and remembering, she found herself getting stuck. Little frustrated tears formed in her eyes but she blinked them away, thinking she wasn’t going to muster up the courage to see him today. 

But she did.

He had a soft spot for the students that he helped. It was human nature to care for those you spent time with. It wasn’t like how he thought about Y/N though. Okay— he knew it was bad. But he was intrigued by her. Why? He wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe her edgy look, maybe it was because she was seemingly submissive and every time he caught her eye she looked like a deer in headlights. She stares at him a lot, he could notice that. But he likes it. So he was pleasantly surprised when she came to his office, looking skittish but also curious. She needed help and he would offer it to her. 

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you.” Harry adjusted his glasses and sat up straighter, putting the final mark on a test before looking back up at her with a gentle smile. He had to approach with caution, she already looked like she was going to shit herself. “I’m glad you got my note and weren’t offended. But I was wondering if you’d like some help.” He didn’t say what because he wanted her to tell him what exactly she was struggling with.

Y/N was very nervous, mostly because she didn’t like asking for help from anyone. She didn’t like to seem unintelligent in front of men, especially when they were as attractive as Professor Styles. All the girls on campus talked about how hot he was, how his dominance was a turn on and how none of them were properly able to focus in class. At least they were getting passing grades. 

“Hi, professor...” Y/N said softly and closed the door behind her before taking a seat. “I, um... I’m not really good with asking for help.” She explained, pushing a few pieces of hair behind her ear before fixing her septum piercing. Y/N was playing with the hem of her skirt, one of her fingers playing with the fishnet stockings she had on. “I feel like I understand when you’re explaining it and then I go and take the test and it’s like I can’t remember anything you said. But I’m not good at academics anyway so...” Y/N let out a sad chuckle. Her self confidence was pretty low in all aspects, it was a shame because she was a pretty girl. She didn’t seem to think so, hence why she dressed up. At least her clothes she could control.

“Now, don’t say that.” Harry tutted. “I’m sure that’s not true. I bet you just have a different way of learning. If you understand verbally, but freeze when it’s written, that may be the case.” He hummed, flipping through the last work she had handed in. “My question is... it isn’t meant to offend you at all. But do you find difficulty in reading itself?” He approached it gently. You’d be surprised how many adults realize later on in life that they have dyslexia. They were labeled as not the smartest but he was because it took so long for them to understand because the words and numbers get jumbled up. “I’m asking because I notice in your writings, you spell things in a unique way. Or it seems the letters are flipped. This isn’t to embarrass you so please don’t be upset— we just need to figure out why it is that you struggle with the tests.” He leaned forward on his desk, licking over his bottom lip. She was beautiful. In that way when women didn’t know they were beautiful. He wished he could see more of her body— fuck, not going there. Absolutely not. Even though technically it wasn’t like he would be fired, seeing as half the damn staff fucks students. It was always that forbidden element. Either way, he was far too much for this sweet thing to handle. “I would like to help you if you would let me do so.”

Y/N felt really anxious, bouncing her leg to try and keep her composure. She didn’t think she was smart. She wasn’t good at math, wasn’t good at science, she was decent at English but even that seemed to be difficult now that she was reading classics that were barely in modern English. She just decided that learning wasn’t for her. 

“I’m not a reader, no.” She shook her head, Y/N found herself having trouble focusing for a long time and when it came to reading words get jumbled up and she struggled a lot. Especially when she started thinking about it too much. Of course Y/N was embarrassed even though he said he wasn’t trying to embarrass her. It was more just her feeling incompetent. She didn’t like making eye contact with him for too long because she felt like he was staring straight into her soul. She was a bit shy and timid when it came to new people. She appreciated that he wasn’t judging her though. “I don’t know what you could do to help, but if you’d like to try we can? I—I don’t want to waste your time.”

“There’s no wasting time if it helps improve your learning, yeah? Please don’t think of yourself like that. You are an important person, just as important as my other students. I want you to succeed.” Harry promised. It kind of broke his heart that she was so sure that her time with him would be wasted. It made him sad that she felt that way. Why? “How about we set up a time... let’s say two days a week? I have time around now, so 4:15 to 5 where I can help you.” He normally wouldn’t do it for most  but he wasn’t going to let her suffer. A passion project, so to speak. “I don’t know your schedule but I would be here during that time normally. I basically live in this office anyways.” He smiled in a joking way. “We can work on understanding first what was wrong and then we can have time to work on the new material.”

Y/N nodded her head in agreement, but it did make her worry. Of course she could only try her best but she was so used to failing that she wasn’t sure how much harder she could try. She was barely passing her other classes and frankly she was thinking about dropping out all together. Maybe she was the lowlife her parents made her out to be? 

“Can do... Monday’s and Thursday’s..” Y/N told him, “if that’s okay, I have band practice on Wednesday’s.” She wasn’t sure why’s she told him but part of it was to show that she wasn’t just a stupid girl that she did have some talent or at least she thought she did. “It’s um... it’s really nice of you to do this, thank you.” She told him genuinely, though she was terrified of letting him down. He seemed so cool. He wasn’t like this in his classes, he seemed much more approachable this way. Maybe in another life they could have been friends or more than that... no, he probably wasn’t into girls like her. She needed a cigarette.

“Of course. You have my email if you need to reschedule.” But he could see right through her. Of course he could. “But... if you’re nervous, tell me. I can soothe the worries. I’ll be awfully disappointed if you don’t show up and don’t let me know.” He knew she was skittish. He didn’t want her to back out and not take the time to try at the very least. “Let’s just work on it a day at a time. I hope to see you soon.” 

When she walked out, he was ashamed to say he was entranced by her ass. He was such a bastard for thinking about a student like that. So bad. But it didn’t stop him from seeing her eyes when he fucked his fist later that night.

----

The next couple of days left Y/N worried. Coming out of professor Styles’ office had left her feeling on edge, wondering if it was even worth trying. She felt like nothing would save her at this point but this was going to be her last attempt. If it didn’t work out she’d just drop out and couch surf. But she didn’t want to have to do that, her kitty Jinx would have to find a new home and that was something she certainly didn’t want. It was Monday and Y/N didn’t go to her classes today, feeling like it was justified because she was meeting with Professor Styles today. 

If she was going to work on herself she wanted to be in the best shape possible, so she smoked some weed in the morning to get her day off right and got her things together before getting her skateboard and making her way to his office.

Harry was pleased when she actually showed up at his office. He was half expecting her to drop his class with how terrified she had seemed the past time, and he was curious to see how she had thought about what her grades and his revisions on her test. He had worn a dark red button up today with suspenders, his blazer off and hair a tiny bit messy. His glasses hung off the end of his nose while he looked up at her with surprise, before a smile came on his face. 

“Y/N! I’m very glad to see you’ve come.” He hummed, sitting up and leaning back in his chair. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable on the couch. Would you like a water?”  He had a mini fridge in his office. Without listening to an answer, he pulled one out anyways and handed it to her, rounding the desk so he seemed less scary. The desk was a position of power. One he loved, but also didn’t want to take advantage of when Y/N obviously was terrified of it. “Alright. So... you’ve seen my revisions?” He sat on the other arm chair across from the couch, glasses pushed up now with his copy of her paper. “Good. What do you think about your mistakes? Were they because you didn’t understand the material, or didn’t know what to say in paper?”

Y/N gave him a small smile, setting her skate board up against the side wall before taking a seat on the couch. No amount of weed could have calmed her down, she wasn’t even that high anymore it was just the residual feeling. Right now, she was more concerned about having to tell him what was going on inside her mind when she was working on assignments. 

“I—I um... both?” She felt a blush creeping in on her cheeks. “I tried to like... watch videos about it, cause whenever I try to read I just get frustrated.” Y/N explained fiddling with the paper. She didn’t like this feeling, it was obvious that it was something that made her emotional which was why she didn’t really talk about it. She let out a breath, looking over what she wrote and seeing all the red pen. It made her want to crawl up into a ball despite how nice he was being. He was trying and so she would also try her best to keep it together. “I find it really hard to focus..”

“I don’t doubt that you do, Y/N. I’m thinking that maybe this isn’t something to do with your focus, but maybe it’s with your reading? You could learn differently than other people and that's absolutely alright.” Harry felt poorly that she was so sad and embarrassed about it. “Look at me.” When she didn’t respond he was trying a different tactic. Soft but very obviously meaning business. “There we are. Now, this doesn’t mean you’re stupid or unable to learn or do well in my class. You just may need to learn differently.” He stood up and grabbed a book from his shelf. “So this book— I got it online. It has some illustrations in it, and I find they’re pretty self explanatory. Maybe this will help you understand it better. Having an image opposed to words in your mind.” He handed it to her. She didn’t need to know he had bought it himself.

Y/N glanced up at him as he told her to look at him, seeing his face go much softer but his eyes still held that same intensity. She followed his with her eyes as he went to get the book. It was much thicker than the others due to all the illustrations but of course it made her feel like a little kid again. She just wished she could be normal. 

“Okay...” She said softly, willing to try anything at this point. Of course she was nervous about going forward with his class seeing as she knew things would only get more difficult. Y/N gave him a small thank you as she looked through the book but part of her felt like it wasn’t going to work. No one was determined in helping her learn, they never have been. She’d always gotten very poor, passing grades because she assumed teachers felt bad for her or knew her siblings and assumed maybe she was just the rebellious one. “Sometimes I feel like I do better on the essays, cause I feel like I get it... but I end up getting better grades on the tests than the essays and it’s... disheartening.” She explained with a small frown, “cause I guess on the tests a lot of the time.”

He furrowed his brows, listening to what Y/N had to say. It made sense if she had dyslexia that she would be frustrated and upset with learning altogether but it was important to her and him as well, that she was able to do what she was meant to do. Whatever it was she had wanted. 

“I think you should outline your essays more. Each body paragraph, with reasoning and thought. Come up with 4 to 6 reasons for each, word them how it makes sense to you, and write it that way. The structure taught isn’t the only way to do it.” He explained. Writing down on a piece of notebook paper an example of how she could do it. “I know it must be very frustrating— especially if it’s been years that you’ve had to deal with this. I understand. But I do have faith that you’re able to do this. You are intelligent, Y/N. You just have to figure out the right way to show it.”

Y/N let out a sigh, swallowing thickly as he gave her some advice on how to structure her essays in a way that would make more sense. She would try her best, especially with knowing that he was going to be grading things knowing what her situation was. Y/N was going to try her best to sound smart or collected, but she will admit she hadn’t been paying attention for years. 

She pulled out a folder of her English work, pulled out the notes she had taken and the lay out for her essays and bit the inside of her lip. Y/N handed it to him and immediately went to pay with her own fingers. Observing him as he looked through what she had done previously. 

“I—I try my best, I really do.. but anytime I get the courage to try it just gets worse and I go back to not trying at all because at least then I know I’m failing cause I’m doing it on purpose and not cause I’m stupid.” Y/N was trying to share her feelings to try and make him understand. “‘s really intimidating being in class with people who pick up information easily and I end up just tuning out cause it’s too fast for me to follow... and I don’t want to be that one girl that holds up the whole class with a stupid question.”

“You aren’t. If you have a question that you aren’t comfortable asking in front of everyone, you are always welcome to email me or come to my office at any time I’m here.” Harry promised. Poor girl. Jesus, what happened to her to make her self esteem like this? “You are very capable. Very much a smart girl. You need to tap into different areas of your brain. I promise, we can get your grade up together, alright?” He felt softness and fondness because he knew that sometimes professors weren’t the most understanding. Granted, he was only like this towards students that came for help— and oddly, even more so towards her, but still. “You don’t have to stop trying. You just need a different approach and we can help you find the right one. Do you like movies?” He suddenly remembered that. At her confused look, he continued. “Movies are scripts. Books. Visual. Do you find it easy to follow along with movies?”

She found it hard to believe him because no one really called her smart, ever. Y/N gave him a small smile and nodded her head, pushing pieces of hair away from her face before nodding and realizing she reversed the work she’d just done. He was a very nice man, it was clear that he was committed to helping her and it was definitely appreciated. She just didn’t know why he believed in her so much when no one else did? 

“Well yeah... I can follow conversation and stuff.” Y/N let out a small chuckle, sniffling a bit before she continued. “I think another problem is I get too confused about things like.. the deeper meaning stuff in books. Like the themes and whatever you call it. Cause in my head I know what I think it means but then it’s meant to mean something else and then I think I just didn’t understand correctly.” Y/N was definitely more of a creative. She didn’t like following set rules, she liked going with the flow and following her own thing. It worked when it came to her music, she was able to focus then. But she taught herself guitar.

“I think that you need to first take the book at face value. Don’t look for the hidden meanings the first time you read because it will confuse you more.” Harry cleared his throat. She smelled really good. Like peaches and citrus. He wondered if her bed smelled like that, but stronger. 

“Tell me some things you like.” He leaned back into the seat. “Things you think we can connect to projects. You said you’re in a band? Have a band?” He remembered that from last time. At her nod he continued. “You can find a song or make a playlist of songs that connect your head to the book. Say... Romeo and Juliet. Hmm.. check yes Juliet, We The Kings. If you’ve heard of that. You can find songs that help you remember.”

“Yeah, I’m in a band.” Y/N nodded her head a bit at him, “it’s like a indie punk thing...” She wasn’t sure what kind of music he listened to but he seemed young enough to think that indie music was good. Who knows, maybe he was one of those jazz guys with all the sweaters he wears. Y/N wasn’t one to judge though. The check yes Juliet reference made her chuckle, remembering middle school and highschool momentarily. He couldn’t be that much older then. “Yeah, I know that song.” She giggled and shook her head, “but yeah, I understand.” She spoke and took note of that in her mind. Y/N didn’t know how she was meant to explain to him that she spent the rest of her free time doing drugs. Tripping and writing music, hanging out with her kitty. That’s about it. Skating, going out in nature. Fucking. She definitely was a bit of a nympho. She assumed it was because of her need for attention.

“Okay. That’s good then. Use that to try and correlate.” He had felt weird watching her leave the room, seemingly in a better mood than she had been before but still nervous. It didn’t help that he hadn’t gotten laid and didn’t really want to have sex with someone else right now. God, if only he could spread her open and dip his cock into her soft cunt. That’s something he was dreaming of. 

He thought about it the next night too. So, with his bored and needy thoughts, he went home and did his chores he needed to do, before he went to lay in his bed with his laptop. To be honest. Most porn didn’t do it for him. He much preferred erotic writing or even more so, cam girls. Sex workers deserved support and he always tipped well, though rarely talking in any of them. He was scrolling down the alternative tab when he found what he was looking for. Tattoos and plump lips, tits for a profile photo and a tongue sticking out. Interesting— and she was live. 

He just never expected the exact woman in his head to be placed on the screen, smoke coming from her mouth. 

Fuck.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how she thought about starting camming but it all sort of just fell into place. She started off just selling her nudes and videos for attention and money but then she realized that people would pay really good money to watch live stuff. It’s a good thing too because Y/N loved being watched. Her cams were usually regularly scheduled, but other times they were spontaneous because she was really horny. bbybunnie was her username, most people just called her pet names though, never by her actual name for obvious security reasons. She had quite the following too. People seemed to love her content. She was fun and bubbly and she felt like she put in a great show both literally and physically. Y/N had just done a bong rip, having her windows open to let the smoke out. She didn’t like smoking around Jinx so she’d let her in once she was properly stoned. She was dressed in a black crop top that said princess on it in gothic font, fishnets, and little black panties. 

“Been really stressed lately with college and stuff...” Y/N answered a previous question as to what she’d been up to. “Working on assignments in stuff but it gets hard.” She pouted, turning her head when she heard Jinx scratching at the door. “One second.” She giggled and went to grab Jinx, leaving the door open so she could roam. “Here she is, say hi to everyone.” Y/N cooed in a baby voice. It was quite the sight. An alternative girl all soft with her cat, just starting the broadcast. Her vibrator was clearly in frame, already plugged in. A subscriber bought a heavy duty one for her.

And Harry should have clicked off. Right away, he should have exited the screen and said ‘gotta go’ because this was his student. His student he tutored and had fucking come on here to jerk off to a look alike. But he couldn’t. Not finally getting a look at her body. Soft and curved and delicious. Her tits strained the tank top and little tiny panties, some fishnets. Jesus fucking Christ. He let out an audible moan as he watched her sit back on the bed, talking back and forth with some of the comments.

He wasn’t sure what made him comment. 

DaddyH: you look beautiful. I love the fishnets.

She did. And he loved them. A lot of the comments were dirtier but not to the point he could see it turning a woman on. He didn’t get an associates in sexology for nothing.

Y/N was pretty good with responding to comments, they were paying after all, but a lot of them were much nicer than most would think. Her community was used to her streams taking a bit to get going because she liked to get super horny, so once she was properly high she usually talked with her comments about things she’s been fantasizing about and what they’d like to see her do. 

DaddyH. He was new. 

“Hi daddyh, thank you! You’re new aren’t you?” Y/N said with an excited smile, she liked newcomers. It meant someone was interested in her. “Well we’ve got a special show on our hands then.” Her viewers loved when new people came because the shows were always better. She was visibly hornier. She shifted a little bit so she was leaning farther back on her pillows, bringing her legs up and out so she was spreading like a little butterfly. Of course the panties kept things covered but not much. Y/N pulled them up so they were tight on her, “Gotta get me real wet first, yeah?” She hummed, “love knowing you’re watching me... love when you tell me what you like...” It was strategic to talk dirty as if she was talking to one specific person.

Fuck shit motherfucker. Fuck. 

Harry didn’t even see her pussy fully yet and he was nearly drooling. What the fuck had he done in what past life to get this type of luck? He wasn’t sure but he did know that whatever he did, he was thankful. He got a good look at her, her lusty eyes. He was a dirty talker. He loved to sex— fuck the English teacher in him. He loved making women a mess of whines and slick and speaking their darkest fantasies into their ears as the writhe underneath him. Y/N would be a fun one to play with. For sure. 

DaddyH: you could play over the panties. They’re cute.

He had a thing for panties and fishnets, and she was going right to his kinks.

“But that’s no fun.” Y/N pouted at the comment, wiggling her panties a little bit so she could rub against her clit some. She let out a tiny moan and hummed, letting her hands move up her body to squeeze her tits through her shirt. She was properly eye fucking the camera too, teasing as she started to pull up her shirt. “I’m frustrated, daddy...” Usually she waited till she got a certain number of tips before she took her clothes off, but she was only a few dollars away so she pulled off her shirt revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The tightness of the tank top kept them up, but these men seemed to love natural tits. Her hand slipped down to start rubbing over her clit over top her panties, letting out little breathy moans of pleasure. “Really want to be fucked...” She explained, “Wanna be full...” Y/N pouted and quickened her pace. 

“Bent over a desk.”

Harry had a big oak desk he could bend her over and absolutely destroy her. If that’s something she would want. Harry would wreck her. His hand palmed Over his cock as he took her in and looked at her tits. He was an everything man but tits? He could happily suck on hers for an hour and make marks all over, just to listen to her mewl and feel her on his tongue. He squeezed over his sweatpants, feeling himself heat up as he watched her. She was topless, his student. His student was topless and rubbing her clit over tiny little panties, giving a pout and looking at the camera too fucking similar to the way she looked at him in his office today. And while his rational mind knew he wouldn’t be able to look at her the same— he would want to fuck her even more than he had— he couldn’t stop watching.

It was clear that Y/N’s interactions with Harry had spilt over into her mind while she was getting into it. It was that intense stare that he had, his ringed hands, of course there was also the tone of his voice. How he asked her to look at him that one time. She could only imagine him asking her much rougher and in a deeper voice. 

“Daddy...” She whimpered out, teasing her own self over her panties as she read over the comments. Y/N giggled are some, loving he praise if men calling her cute and telling her she was pretty and her moans were turning them on. She went and took off her panties cause she really couldn’t take it anymore, revealing her fishnet covered cunt. “Want a better view, hmm?” Y/N smirked, moving to rip them right over the crotch so everyone could see. “I’m so fuck wet for you... look..” She said all excited, pulling her fingers back to show the strings of wetness on her fingers.

Harry was in heaven. Truly. Or hell, because he wasn’t able to be the one ripping the fishnets up and fucking her in them. Her thighs looked soft and delicate and probably so easily bruised. He could do some incredible work down there. 

DaddyH: Lick it clean, sweetheart. I know it’s sweet.

There was no way she wasn’t so sweet that his teeth would fill with cavities. No way. He wanted her taste all over his tongue. He was a very giving dom, very much eager to make his lovers cum again and again and again so long as they complied with his soft rules. It wasn’t difficult.

Y/N’s stomach filled with warmth as she read over the comment, bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking on them properly as if they were a cock. She was starting to like the Daddyh character. He was so sweet and polite in his choice of words, paid well. What was there not to like? She removed her fingers from her mouth giggling a little bit as she decided to show off some more. Y/N pushed the laptop back a bit, turning so they could see her ass and how she arched her back for them relieving that she’d had a butt plug in the whole time. Sleek and black with a little gem at the end. A lot of the things she had were gifts from subscribers. She had an Amazon wishlist specifically set up for them as well as a regular P.O. Box that then routed to her home. She had tons of back up fishnets, some used ones she sold online as well. Lots of other things. She quite enjoyed it.

When did she put that in? Harry needed to know. Was she wearing that when she was sat on his fucking couch? He would surely lose his goddamn mind if that was the case. 

He tipped her $50, asking the question he needed the answer to. 

DaddyH: Have you been wearing that all day, pretty girl?

The idea of her squirming in class occurred to him. And then the idea of a little vibrator inside of her that he had the remote to, pressing it on to see her reactions. He would buy her one, fuck. He would buy this girl anything if it meant getting to see her squirm and hear her beg him to let her cum.

Y/N wiggled her bum a bit, turning on her back again with a hum. “I’ve been wearing it all day...” She nodded, reaching over for her vibrator because she really couldn’t wait anymore. Everyone who streamed her knew she was impatient, sometimes if they paid a good amount she’d wait and tease herself first but she was needy today. She just kept thinking about professor Styles. “‘m so needy... been so horny lately, might be on for a while.” Y/N blushed, “or I’ll film some special requests on my onlyfans...” She smirked because she knew she would get lots of money for men begging her to stay but loads for custom content too. Y/N turned the vibrator on it’s lowest setting, starting to move it down on to her cunt where she let out a pleaser sigh. “I wanna cum so bad... just wanna cum.” She pleaded, reading to see what everyone was saying. Y/N turned it up a few notches, letting out a content sigh as she moved it over a specific spot. The feeling was indescribable and the noises that left her just showed how relieved she was.

Harry nearly fell over. Her ass was stuffed when she sat on his couch— and it wasn’t from his cock. Harry particularly loved anal, it was a very hot thing to him and the fact she hadn’t been warming his cock like that was near criminal. Truly. 

“Sweet Jesus.” He breathed, finally taking himself out of his pants. Spitting thick on to the head, he spread it over his cock and waited for her to continue. She had an onlyfans? He would be subscribing and buying content. He didn’t give a fuck. He wanted it and it would be the best way to keep her close but far. He was watching how her legs trembled and her mouth fell open at the feeling, her body arching into the buzzing of the vibrator. Oh, how he would hold it against her and finger her until she squirted all over the bed and make her clean it up with her tongue. He was a sexual man but kinky more than anything. The idea of it all... it was so hot and wrong and taboo and it was even better in his cock’s mind that she was a no go zone. Made it hotter. 

DaddyH: you’ve got such a pretty pussy. How many times can you cum?

Y/N read his comment and let out a whine, turning up the vibrator a few settings higher once again so she could get even closer to her brink of orgasm. “Let’s find out.” She breathed out and continued to crank up the settings. The closer she got the more she thrashed and bucked her hips both up and away from the vibrator. She was very enjoyable to watch she’s been told, specifically because she just couldn’t keep her mouth shut and that she was willing to take a lot. Y/N must have sat there for a few hours just making herself cum over and over again, both with the vibrator and the dildo she had. Once she was all fucked out, 5 orgasms deep, she just laid there and watched the comments roll in. She giggled at a few, breathing heavily as she slowly walked herself down from the blissful headspace she was in. “Thank you, I’m feeling so much better...” Y/N cooed, giving them a smile. “Have a good day or night!” And with that she’d logged off, happy that she had made a new regular.

-------------------------------------------

[part 2]

A/N: bet you weren’t expecting that huh? 😈 and yes!! punk!y/n - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[theanimeview]

NOTES: Japanese 101 - Introduction

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting

When I was telling people about taking Japanese, I was surprised at how many people said they’d like to learn but were too afraid because it looks hard. While it’s not easy, per se, it’s not something to be afraid of--so, since our blog is all about learning more and diving into the culture of what we love, I thought sharing my notes from learning Japanese.

It may be beneficial to those interested. Disclaimer here: I’m not fluent nor am I an expert. I highly recommend looking into taking a Japanese course if you really want to learn advanced stuff. However, given my grades and experience living/conversing with a fluent Japanese speaker, I feel fairly confident sharing what I’ve learned so far. These are just notes with links to the resources I use to study and learn. Take from them what you will.

MATERIAL COVERED (in this post):

Introduction of the Genki 1, 3rd Ed., Textbook linked below. Pages 12 - 27.

TEXTBOOK:

Genki 1 Third Edition: An Integrated Course in Elementary Japanese 1 Textbook & Workbook Set

PLEASE NOTE: I may switch back and forth a bit between the second and third edition, particularly in Romaji (how the word is spelled in English lettering) spelling as the third edition changes how certain words are spelled. Both are correct, but one is newer than the other so if you see a word like “sensee” also spelled “sensei” in my post(s), try not to worry too much. The focus of Romaji, from how it has been explained to me, is to best imitate the sound of the word for English readers to understand the pronunciation.

Pages 12 - 19: GENKI

These pages (p. 12 - 19) cover what is in the textbook. The creators highlight how each lesson is framed, give a general overview of the layout, and other helpful explanations for how to understand the function of the sections. As you are not reading the textbook directly when looking at these notes, you don’t need to worry about them.

One item mentioned is Genki’s online resources for learners. Of which, I would recommend their phone apps. While it does cost money, I find it to be a much better resource for learning Japanese than Duolingo.

Pages 20 - 27: Japanese Writing System

Japanese uses three kinds of characters: Hiragana, Katakana, and Kanji. There is, technically, a fourth writing system called Romaji (mentioned above). Hiragana and Katakana are like the base alphabet and are referred to as “Kana.” Each character of the Kana represents a sound. Hiragana has a roundish shape in writing, while Katakana takes a sharper form with straighter lines.

For example: Ken

Hiragana: けん

Katakana: ケン

Hiragana is used for conjugation endings, function words (like verbs), and native Japanese words that are not covered by Kanji. When put together, they form words but on their own, they don’t hold much meaning. A good video for learning Hiragana better can be found here.

Katakana is normally used for foreign words or names. It may also be used for onomatopoeic words (words that are spelled as they sound) in comics (manga) or for emphasis (much in the same way we may use italics). A good video for learning Katakana better can be found here.

Kanji are Chinese characters that represent sound and meaning, therefore they are typically used for nouns and as the stems of verbs and adjectives. A good video for learning some beginner Kanji can be found here.

Romaji is often used for station names, signs, and the like. It stands as a romanization (the representation of the pronunciation of languages using the Latin alphabet) of the Japanese language and is not traditionally used in writing.

Japanese has a pitch accent rather than a stress accent. This means that all syllables in Japanese are, basically, pronounced either in a high or low pitch and given the same amount of time per sound when talking. English, which is a stress accent, may lengthen a word or be spoken louder for emphasis, but in Japanese lengthening the word changes the meaning so instead accents are applied to provide emphasis.

Hiragana

Hiragana Kana:

(Image from: https://thejsubexperiment.tumblr.com/post/151916695484/genki-lesson-1-linguistic-perspective)

Looking at the images above, you may notice that some of the characters have diacritic marks above them, to the right. Typed, it looks like this: “べ” or “ぺ”

These marks paired with the characters change the sounds of the voiced consonant. K becomes G, S becomes Z, T becomes D, and H becomes B when paired with the tenten (the one that looks like a quotation mark). Notably, Chi becomes Ji, Tsu becomes Zu but that is not something you need to think about in this section of the text.

Contracted sounds are followed by smaller versions of ya, yu, and yo respectively to create contracted sounds like “Kyo” (きょ).

Double consonants are transcribed in Hiragana by adding a small Tsu character “っ.” Examples of when to use it include: pp, tt, kk, ss, etc.

An exception to this is double Ns. Nn is instead written with the Hiragana N (ん) + whatever N sound follows (na, ni, nu, ne, or no). *NOTE: The N (ん) sound is considered a full syllable in terms of length when speaking.

When the same vowel follows itself, such as in Ojiisan (grandfather), the pronunciation of the sound is lengthened. It is important to remember this as the difference in length can change the meaning. Ojisan, which means uncle, can become grandfather with a simple lengthening of the sound.

Sometimes vowel sounds are dropped--typically the vowels of “i” and “u,” especially when placed between the voiceless consonants (k, s, t, p, and h) or at the end of an utterance that is preceded by a voiceless consonant.

For example, “~です” (desu) has a silent “u” when spoken aloud.

Katakana

Katakana Kana:

(Image from: https://thejsubexperiment.tumblr.com/post/151916695484/genki-lesson-1-linguistic-perspective)

The pronunciation and rules of Katakana are the same as those of Hiragana except for long vowels which are written with a dash, “ー.”

Notable, the dash turns when writing meaning that if you are writing horizontally, the dash remains horizontal and if you are writing vertically, the dash becomes vertical.

Kanji

Kanji, as mentioned, are Chinese characters. They were first introduced to Japan more than 1,500 years ago and are considered the first written form of the language as Japan did not have a formal writing system prior to its introduction. Hiragana and Katakana came later. Also mentioned, each Kanji character represents both meaning and sounds. It is typical that most Kanji have multiple ways of reading them, notably the “on-yomi,” or Chinese reading, and the “kun-yomi,” or Japanese reading. Sometimes there are multiple on-yomi readings due to the differences found in the Chinese language. There are roughly 4 types of Kanji:

Pictograms - those made from pictures

Simple Ideograms - those made of dots or lines to represent numbers of abstract concepts (like, ‘up’ or ‘under’)

Compound Ideograms - those made from the combination of two or more other kanji

Phonetic-Ideographic characters - those made up of a meaning element and a sound element.

That concludes my notes from the Introduction of the Genki Textbook, 3rd Edition.

[junicai]

NCT World 2.0

-> Episode One & Two; Aria focus

a/n: im not going to write out some of the bits in the show where aria isn’t hugely present, so if you havent watched nct world yet, A: i highly recommend u do its the best thing ever and B: you might be a little confused from all the time skips :)

a/n2: also no one yell at me for my lack of technical knowledge in ice skating im a ballroom dancer hjkhdj if someone would like to Correct Me id be very thankful

Multiverse; A theory of multiple universes. 

A universe in which multiple times and spaces exist, and people who go beyond time; the first idol group ever to film a multiverse reality show.

This is NCT World 2.0. 

Share all time and space with NCT!

Attention! We present to you, the 24 NCT members!

Aria appeared partially from behind one of the pillars, sticking her head out and letting her hair swing from the ponytail it was pulled up into. She had her face schooled into a searching expression - eyes wide - before she jumped out from behind the pillar and let her face break into a smile. 

Aria waved with both hands, twirling around once to show off the champagne colored shirt dress she wore. With the cropped pink V-neck sweater donned on top of the light material, she looked the epitome of comfort; the only contrast being the black boots Aria wore on her feet to match her newly darkened hair.

While the cube lights flickered through various shades of green, spelling out ‘NCT’ in their flashing lights, it was revealed that she was on the lowest level of the three stories - her individual cube located in between Hendery’s and Jaemin’s on the left side. 

The worldwide idol group, NCT.

All 24 members, will be travelling through time and space.

Their multiverse journey begins now.. Not only time, space, and chaos, but past, and future! Aren’t you dying to find out about the NCT members’ journey through them all?

NCT World 2.0. The start of time and space travelling, begins now!

Keep your eyes wide open. 

Aria leant forwards towards the camera that was positioned in the upper hand of her cube, squinting slightly before she realized that the red blinking light belonged to the recording device suspended on the wall.

She proceeded to crouch down, bringing her hands together in front of her and extending her fingers into a small gun, looking all-too-cuddly to be intimidating. Her thin dress fluttered down around her, barely brushing the floor, but her boots made a small squeak to protest the movement. 

With a small pew she flicked her fingers up to mimic a gun shooting before bursting out into embarrassed laughter at her own actions, standing up while brushing the dust off her knees.

Welcome members! I’m Super Human, and I rule the multiverse. This is a condensed place, of every time and place since April 15th, 2016, to the present in 2020. In other words, you’re stuck in a hurricane of time and space. 

To escape this space, you must clear 24 missions. If you want to escape, you have to try your best in these missions. 

“Ah,” Aria sighed, looking at the black box in front of her from her chair. The green question mark on the lid was bright and loud, almost mocking her. “I’m scared.” 

She checked over on Jisung, leaning out of her cube, who had a similar face to hers only he was staring ahead and not at the ominous black box in front of her.

“Jisungie,” Aria leant over and out of her box to call down to the younger boy, twisting her legs around to sit sideways on the chair so she could face him properly. “You know, you’ll probably face the first mission because you’re in the first cube~” She teased. 

Jisung sent her a withering look, a mix between a low grumble and a petulant whine coming out of his throat. “Noona! No!” 

Aria only raised her eyebrows at him, before turning back to the front. 

I will now call out the first member who will do a mission.

NCT’s youngest member, Jisung!

Aria threw her head back in a laugh with a clap of her hands before she looked over to Jisung’s hunched form. He had buried his face in his hands momentarily, only peeking back out at the rallying cries of his hyungs. 

“Whoo! Go Jisung!” Aria joined in, making sure to cup her hands around her mouth to ensure her voice was heard over the other boys yelling. 

Jisung was called out to slide open the lid of his mystery box, and he did so with slightly reddened cheeks and a lip worried between teeth. He removed the lid gently before placing it down on the ground to the side, revealing two unfamiliar objects. 

Pulling them out with careful hands, Aria felt her heart sink into her stomach. 

There went her plans of escaping for an early night’s sleep. 

Upon watching the demonstration video, she could hear the teasing remarks coming from their fellow dream members, even Jisung himself muttering that this was bad, bad indeed. 

Jisung set the drone on the floor after moving the box and its corresponding lid a safe distance away, before beginning his foolproof method of getting the drone to switch on - sans instructions:

Press every single button, and hope it did something useful. 

Aria leant back towards Hendery in her chair. “You know, Jisungie is really bad at things like this.” She explained, Hendery leaning forward to better hear her.

“Oh yeah?” 

Aria nodded. “He types like-” she made a motion of pressing keys with only her index fingers. 

Aria let out a breath, before settling back into her chair more comfortably. “Ah, we’re going to be here a while.”

Aria slid out of her chair to make her way over to Yangyang where the boy was standing back, head tilted, staring down his table covered with the red cloth. Bending down, she picked up one of the candles that had come loose from the candelabra, slotting it in while Yuta and Sicheng moved to pick up the other utensils that had slid from the table. 

Setting the table up again, now with Jisung and Johnny’s help as well, Aria stood back to let Yangyang pull the red cloth out from underneath everything stacked on top. 

Yuta rest his hand on the back of his neck, before stepping away as well. Yangyang took a deep breath, schooling his nerves before raising his arms and pulling the tablecloth with all his might.

The candles, two chalices and bowl came crashing to the ground again. A resounding sound of pity came from all the members, and Yangyang stomped his foot slightly, lips pressed together. 

“It’s okay! Here, maybe try putting everything in the one bowl, that might help.” Aria came in from the sidelines, hands reaching out to collect the plastic food from Johnny’s clutches and tossed it back into the bowl before the other objects were stacked on top. 

Yuta made the motions of having a big arc before pulling out the red cloth, and Yangyang followed his directive - yanking both the cloth and all of the place decorations off in one fell swoop. One of the chalices hit his leg, and he yelped slightly, lifting his leg into the air to prevent further damage to his shin. 

“Maybe try bending down?” Aria offered, crouching in a demonstration. 

Yangyang bent in front of the table, before shaking his head and standing back up - looking more and more defeated with each passing failed attempt. “No, no this isn’t it.”

Taking a steadying breath he pulled out the cloth again, this time only the candelabra falling off the table. 

“Oh! That was close!” Aria cheered, fist bumping the air minutely. Her tiny cheer was heard by Yuta who was standing close by, and he pulled her into his side in a brief side-hug, his hand bringing her head in to touch his shoulder while he smiled and cheered Yangyang on as well. 

Lucas appeared from behind the black pillars coming to stand behind the pair, having come from the third floor to offer his guidance. 

“Oh hey, Lucas.” Aria looked at him briefly, before doing a double take. “Lucas?” 

Hendery burst out into laughter, “Lucas! Hey, what are you doing here?”

Slowly, Yangyang’s cube became crowded, with people coming down from each floor to help the boy out with what they could offer. 

“Your gesture is too big! Use a small one. Like this.” Lucas demonstrated his idea by extending and then pulling his arms in sharply to his sides, all in one swift horizontal movement. 

Hendery snorted quietly, “Give it a go then!” he teased. 

When Lucas re-laid the red cloth over the table, Johnny was quick to set down three of the utensils on top of it, stepping back and gesturing for Lucas to make his attempt. 

The boys surrounding the table laughed as Lucas set himself up, bouncing on the balls of his feet lightly before tugging the cloth out from underneath the silverware.

The knife clattered to the ground, and the boys erupted into laughter at Lucas’ embarrassed face. 

Aria turned to rest her head on Jisung’s back, turning her head so her cheek was smooshed against the soft brown material. Jisung startled slightly, but adjusted his stance to accommodate for the extra weight without a word. Aria let her hands come around his waist to rest on his stomach, and Jisung placed a hand on top of hers.

He patted her arm lightly, asking a question without words, and Aria nodded - knowing that he’d feel it through the thin material. 

The next mission is for Winwin. Winwin’s mission is to do five yoga poses. Do five poses for five seconds each to complete the mission.

As the five images of the poses Sicheng was meant to replicate flashed onto the screen Aria scanned them quickly, recognizing them all from her nightly routine before she went to sleep. 

“Aria! Don’t you do this as well?” Donghyuck called down to her, some of the poses looking familiar to him as well.

Captions appeared across the screen:

Aria does meditation and yoga each night before she goes to sleep...

Aria nodded, looking down her floor row to Sicheng. “Yeah!” She called back, hearing the ooohs coming from various members across the floors.

Sicheng cleared the first four poses easily, moving fluidly through the motions without barely a wobble, until the final pose through a spanner in the mechanics of his otherwise flawless performance up until then.

Crouched down, Sicheng was to lean forward onto his arms and let his knees come to rest on the backs of his biceps - holding himself horizontal to the ground with only his arm strength to keep him from face planting. 

Upon his first attempt he tipped forward too far, coming to rest his forehead on the cool ground before he let his legs drop and he sat back onto his knees. 

“This is impossible!” He half chucked to himself, looking around to the other members with wide eyes.

Aria stood from her chair, winding behind Yuta and Yangyang’s cubes before appearing in Sicheng’s, already kneeling down so that she could help him. 

“Look, look Winwin - like this.” Aria pressed her two palms a shoulder width apart on the floor, flexing her fingers momentarily before pushing herself up onto her hands. 

Her legs followed suit cleanly, shifting into the pretzel-like position. Johnny’s hand extended to catch the back of her dress to make sure it didn’t flip up too far.

“Whoo hoo!” Jaehyun cheered on Aria, the other boys soon rallying on.

Coming back down, she flicked the hair out of her face before turning to face Sicheng. 

“Place your hands bent in, like this,” Aria moved his hands to be angled inwards slightly, “And squeeze your triceps as hard as possible, okay?” 

“Like this?” Sicheng made a small attempt at it, holding the pose for a few seconds longer than he had previously before tilting out of it.

“That’s it!” Aria encouraged.

“Let me practice it once.” Sicheng requested from the staff, and he pressed himself into the yoga pose for a moment before sitting back on his haunches with a new determined expression.

Aria graciously accepted the half-full cup of cherry juice from Jeno’s mission, descending the stairs after having collected her cup from the top floor. Moving back to her own cube, she sat down onto the chair and slid the straw between her lips after sniffing the pink liquid curiously.

Taking a small sip, she pulled the cup away to look at the juice again, before humming in delight. 

“Jeno!” she called up to the still-cycling boy. “It’s good! Thank you!"

She could hear an acknowledging grunt from the aforementioned boy, and she winced, knowing that his legs were definitely burning at this point. Cycling power to blend cherry juice was a unique brand of torture - she had to hand it to the producers honestly.

Although, they could have been nicer in their selection of the chairs; the hard plastic was unforgiving as Aria shifted in her seat, her back aching from the metal bars that she leaned against. The flimsy dress did nothing to protect her legs from the hard lip of the seat, and she knew that when she stood back up she’d have two red lines imprinted on the backs of her thighs.

Aria shifted again, uncrossing her legs before crossing them the other way. The straw of the juice found it’s way back into her mouth and she pre-occupied herself by turning to start a conversation with Jaemin.

“Challenge! Accept the challenge!” Aria’s screech halted Hendery’s hands in their movements, fingertips only a centimeter away from the first domino.

He jerked backwards, pulling his hands into his chest before blurting out, “Hendery! Challenge accepted!” with a startled look on his face.

Aria settled back into her chair, letting her outstretched arms fall back to her sides as she exhaled in relief. She wasn’t sure she could sit through another eight minutes of Hendery and Yuta setting up more dominos with a straight face.

Next up is Jaemin and Aria. Open the Mystery Box!

Aria and Jaemin exchanged a curious look, bending down in tandem to the box that sat at their feet. Aria slid off her chair into a crouch in front of the black plastic box, sliding off the lid with nimble fingers and placing it upturned on the ground beside it.

Beside her, Jaemin had already lifted out what was inside his own box, and Aria let out a startled burst of laughter upon seeing what her own box contained.

A small figurine of Aria - no older than twelve - clad in her old competition dress, one leg held up behind her with her fingers clasped around the boot below the blade, and her other hand extended delicately in front of her.

Upon recognizing the small face on the figurine, Jaemin leant over to Aria.

“Is this you?” He asked, pointing to the figurine.

“Yeah,” Aria laughed, cheeks flushed slightly, and she dropped the figurine to bury her head in her hands. “Oh, why.” 

This mission is split into two parts.

 For Jaemin, part one: Hop on a hoverboard and follow the last spin which was a finale of Miyazu Aria’s short program in 2012. 

For Aria, part two: Slide on a pair of ‘super skates’ and follow your member through a sequence of steps from your own routine - but you only have five minutes to complete this mission.

Aria’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows knitting together in mock annoyance.

“Hey!” she called out indignantly. 

Yangyang was laughing at her misfortune. “It’s because you’re good at this already - no one else here has that.”

“I haven’t skated in years!”  

Aria was interrupted by Superhuman’s voice. 

We will show you the video. Play!

Aria’s younger self flickered to view on the large screen, and Aria scrunched her eyes closed to help block out the hollers from the others.

Young-Aria unfolded herself from her starting position and began to move across the ice, before the video cut to the end turning sequence for Jaemin’s mission.

Jaemin beside her fell quiet, leaning forward in his seat to watch the turns more precisely. As a young-Aria spun her way through the final bars of the music, Aria could her the exclamations around her.

“Wow, is that even possible?” 

“Wait that’s cool!”

“Oh my god.” 

The video cut back - showing a few seconds of young-Aria skating in a wide circle before beginning the step sequence that Aria would have to remember. 

Fortunately for her, she was pretty sure that she did remember this routine for the most part - having been one of the ones she enjoyed a great deal while learning. The steps were labelled as they appeared on the screen for the other members, appearing as follows: 

A bracket. Aria remembered royally bruising her hip the first time she had attempted one of those unsupervised. She had been too confident, and turned her body without having given herself enough time to do so, her balance catching at the same time her toe-pick did, and she came crashing down with a dull thud onto the ice. 

An outside three turn. Simple enough, but Aria did wonder how she was going to do edges on wheels - knowing that they weren’t sharpened like blades were. 

And, to finish, a two foot spin. 

Only three steps, which Aria was thankful for given her time constraints.  

The video cut out, and Jaemin and Aria were handed their equipment by the staff who emerged from behind the scenes. 

As it would turn out, the super skates were nothing more than a pair of inline rollerblades, painted a neon green to match the lights running parallel to the ceiling. 

Aria sat herself down on her chair, bending forward to undo the long laces that wrapped around the black boots she wore. It was times like this that she questioned the stylists - they had given her a pair of flesh-coloured tights  to wear underneath the safety-shorts earlier on, but the rough plastic of the super skates was most definitely going to rub a hole through the thin material.

She bit her lip, before deciding that nothing could be done about it now. 

Sliding her feet out of the boots, she quickly laced up the horrifically bright roller skates - rolling her ankles side to side to test out the tension and to make sure that they weren’t too loose or tight. 

Already, getting out of her chair posed a challenge. When weight was put onto the skates the wheels rolled forwards, which left Aria to wobble herself into an upright position, hands clasped onto the back of the chair to keep herself steady. 

When the flimsy plastic chair began to tilt, she let go quickly - flailing slightly before she regained her balance precariously, arms extended in a stop motion. 

“Oh god, this is different.” She muttered to herself, shooting a small glare to Jaemin who snickered at her. 

Aria took a breath before moving to go forward, stopping suddenly when she realized that she’d changed her shoes in the most inopportune place. 

The lip from the edge of the cube was barely a half foot high, but she didn’t fancy a concussion at that particular moment. 

Holding out her right hand, Aria looked over to Jaemin expectantly. He bit his lip as if trying to hold back a giggle but took her hand wordlessly nonetheless, helping her over the step with the other hand resting on her hip to make sure she didn’t slip. 

Aria pat him on the back in thanks and waited for him to move away slightly before she began testing out the skates. 

She was pleasantly surprised to find a fair amount of similarities - and soon she was skating smoothly in circles to get a feel for the floor. Moving at a fairly moderate pace, Aria was comfortable enough to test out something more complex, swiveling her bodyweight side to side to skate in an S shape. 

“I think it’s okay!” She called out. “It’s pretty similar - I don’t think I’ll fall.”

She could hear Renjun’s grumbles at not getting a giggle out of her falling (he didn’t want her to fall badly, just a teeny one), but she chose to not acknowledge it on camera. 

Happy with how the skates and flooring felt, Aria’s next thought was how to incorporate the steps into a smaller space - the studio room was significantly smaller than a regular rink, and she didn’t want to accidentally smack into a wall. 

Speaking of smacking into walls-

“Oh, OH how do you stop!” Aria’s screech was met with a burst of laughter from the others, who had been watching her skate in circles for the last minute or so. 

Putting pressure on the left toe-stop, Aria spun in a circle once, twice, before she slowed to a stop. 

Her face was bright, breathing heavily, eyes sparking at the adrenaline that came with nearly falling on your butt. “So, that’s different.”

“Yeah? How’d you stop normally?” Mark’s voice echoed down, the boy in question sitting forward on his seat so that he could hear her better.

“I mean, normally you’d,” Aria cut herself off by pushing herself into a smooth glide, picking up a little speed before trying to use the rollerblades to drag herself into a stop. 

Aria pushes downwards and back with her legs, trying to hone in on the long-embedded muscle memory that would help her. On ice, the blade would catch and grip the ice to give her a ledge to push herself off of and change her direction.

Using her leg strength, she bent down and pushed.

“Woah!-” Aria’s weight tipped forward, arms windmilling to stop herself face planting into the ground.

The boys let out exclamations in kind, Doyoung sitting up straighter in his chair and Kun scrunching one eye closed in fear that she’d fall. The others reacted similarly, Yuta’s hand dropping quickly to the edge of his chair as if to push himself out of it, and Jungwoo let out a loud aah in sympathy with a wince.

On ice the blades would have gripped, but on the inline wheels her leg flew out from behind herself. She barely managed to right herself, wobbling slightly before she regained her balance.

"You alright, Riri?" Donghyuck's voice echoed down from his cube, looking slightly stiff in his attempt to appear nonchalant despite his tensed shoulders.

Aria made sure her thumbs up was big enough for him to see, and he responded with a rallying cheer and a clap.

Mark spluttered slightly, “You didn’t - I didn’t mean show me you could have just told me-”

Aria giggled at him, waving him off with a laugh and carried on skating in small circles. Checking the time on the clock at the back of the studio, she realized that she’d been skating for over three minutes, and now only had two minutes to complete her challenge. 

“Whoops whoops, ok. Ok, you got this.” She mumbled to herself, gathering her nerves for the first attempt at a bracket. 

She pushed herself into a skate, gliding into a smooth circle before letting her weight transfer onto her right foot, twisted inwards on a forward inside edge. After a moment she hopped slightly, using the split second of airtime to flick her foot around so that her heel leaded her skating backwards, still balanced on the one foot.

Letting out a small cheer of celebration, she did it a couple more times before she was sure she had gotten a hand of it.

Quickly practicing the other two moves she had to replicate, Aria slid herself to a shaky stop, poised in the corner of the floor.

“Aria, challenge accepted!” 

Aria skated through her tiny program with ease, wobbling slightly when it came to the two foot spin when her boots clicked together slightly but regaining her balance after coming out of it slightly prematurely. 

She did a flourish with her arm to distract from that fact, hoping that the staff would be kind enough to ignore the minor blip. 

The short step sequence was fluid, Aria skating through it with ease and she pulled herself to a stop using the rubber toe-stops in the centre of the room, folding herself into a dramatic pose in a mimicry of the swan-pose her younger self had done in their program. 

The members clapped, Lucas’ hoot being heard over them all and Aria bowed (and made a wobbly attempt at a curtsy) before making her way back over to her chair.

Jaemin was already waiting with an extended arm, and Aria grasped his hand gratefully as he helped her back up over the ledge and then sit in her chair.

She looked up expectantly at the screen.

Mission sucessful!

Aria cringed upon hearing Mark’s mission. 

“Oh god poor Mark.” she exchanged a look with Jaemin, who just nodded sadly, lips pressed together.

“Should I go up and help him?” she whispered conspiratorially to him, side-eyeing the male staff member who was in the corner of her vision.

“I think,” Jaemin paused, hearing Donghyuck’s scolding already begin to start. “I think, unless you want to be a witness to his murder - it’s best to stay down here.”

Aria hummed her agreement, settling back into her chair. 

Rest in peace, Markie. 

But, seven minutes in to his challenge, Aria had had enough, making her way up to join the other boys who had already gathered to get a better look at Mark’s egg-making station currently in shambles.

“Look! Stop touching it you’ll break it! Leave the poor egg alone!” she batted away Mark’s wandering hand with the chopsticks. 

Mark jerked his hand away. “Sorry, sorry! Are they not done though?” 

Aria looked at him up through her eyebrows. “I- no. You just put them in.”

He sighed, looking at the eggs with a glum sort of resignation. His shoulders slumped, and Aria felt a pit of regret forming in the bottom of her stomach.

It’s not his fault he can’t cook eggs.

Aria resorted to wrapping her arms around his apron-clad middle, aiming to offer some comfort by pressing her cheek to his back. They stayed that way for a moment, before she jerked and pulled back rapidly like she’d been burned.

“Oh, shoot. Sorry sorry-” 

“What?” 

“I got make-up on your back sorry-” Aria scrubbed with her fingers to try and remove the half skin-toned, half pink stain that had rubbed onto the white material from her foundation and blush. 

“Doyoung hyung, Kun hyung, Jaemin hyung, Aria noona, Mark hyung, Sungchan!”

Aria cheered when Sungchan finished out the names quickly, standing up from her chair to clap emphatically. She waved her hands around in small fists in celebration, looking over to Hendery with a wide-eyed expression of relief at the knowledge that they’re allowed go home after this.

Filming had run late into the night, and after six and a half hours of sitting in the same chair, Aria was thrilled to see the end of the plastic torture on her tailbone.

“Good job Sungchan!” she called up to the boy. He had really looked like he was about to cry from the stress of it all, and before they stumbled back into the car she was going to be sure to give him a hug for getting through it all. 

Because all of you succeeded on your mission, you can escape the time vortex. If you leave this time and space, another time and space will be waiting for you. 

I hope you will be able to complete the journey ahead of you.

Let’s meet again. Farewell. Goodbye.

“Goodbye Mr. Superhuman!” Aria yelled, hands cupped around her mouth, before coughing slightly. 

“Ah, I don’t think I’ll have a voice after all this,” she muttered, before resuming her yelling without a care.

Ice-Skating Queen Aria leaves with a royal flourish...

Aria pressed her fingertips to her lips before holding her palm face-up and paused lightly, before blowing the kiss off her fingertips with a wink. With her other hand extended downwards and out to her side with her hand flexed horizontally, she looked a perfect-mimicry of how one would draw an anime character.

Fluttering her fingertips at the camera in a salute, she turned and walked away to the back wall before disappearing in a wave of colour.

“Sungchan! Hold on, wait one second.” 

The boy in question turned around, stepping out of the group that were beginning to file out of the door. 

“Noona?” 

Aria rounded the corner, boots in hand. She waved to make sure that Sungchan had seen her, before jogging slightly to catch up. 

“Hey!” She smiled brightly, before catching him around the waist and pulling him into a hug. Her boots swung a little from where she had her fingers knotted into the laces to hold onto them both. 

Sungchan stumbled slightly - unprepared - and accepted the hug tenderly, his hands coming over Aria’s shoulders to pat awkwardly at her back. “...noona?” 

She pulled back, smiling at him again before moving out of his personal space. “Sorry, I just. Wanted to give you a hug, that’s all.” 

Sungchan’s eyes widened slightly, before his surprise crested over into gratefulness. He opened his arms again tentatively, prepared for a rejection that never came.

Aria stepped into the circle of his arms without another moment’s persuasion, this time letting her arms wrap around his shoulders - that’s a lot of shoulder - because Sungchan had bent down to meet her. 

“Woah!” 

Aria was lifted off her feet in a split second, her arms tightening around Sungchan’s shoulders. His arms came to lift her up, now carrying her full weight in his arms. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the hug - I do - but, why?” Aria questioned after a moment. 

Sungchan responded by pulling her boots out of her hands. “Your heels are bleeding - and it’s rained outside while we were filming.” 

She exhaled a breath of surprise. “Oh - Oh that’s okay, I don’t mind really, I can walk - it’s not that far to the vans anyway.” 

“The ground is wet, and it’s dark so you can’t see.”

Aria closed her mouth on the protest that was already forming. “O-okay, thank you.” Her voice was soft, and she knocked her head against Sungchan’s shoulder in thanks. 

“No problem.” His limbs were awkward in their attempt to maneuver Aria into a more comfortable position - and yes, it was not the most comfortable of silences, but Aria saw that Yuta had waited by the doorway in silence, having told the Japanese girl earlier that he’d help her to the car. 

Over Sungchan’s shoulder, she nodded that it was okay, and Yuta disappeared through the doorway after a moment.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #158

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the best blue dog in Chaldea since Cu Chulainn (And also the guy riding him) Avenger of Shinjuku! (If we really want to avoid spoilers, should we be calling them the Rider of Shinjuku?) As always with these servants, it’s hard to go into detail about who they are without spoiling stuff, so keep that in mind before going further.

Check out their build breakdown below the cut, or their character sheet over here!

Next up: Funny amogus reference!

Hessian Lobo are mostly a Shadow Sorcerer to summon a big scary dog and other magical nonsense we need stuffed into this spirit origin, but they also get a couple levels of Fighter, because the endgame levels of Sorcerer are bad, and you do hit things with a sharp stick from time to time.

Race and Background: You’re a Human, but you’re also a ghost that haunts a stretch of road, killing all you come across, so that makes you a Revenant as well. (I will tell you now, a lot of headaches would be solved if you just went with Halfling Revenant instead, but human’s still the most in-character.) This gives you +1 Strength, +1 Charisma, and +1 Constitution, as well as a Relentless Nature. This means you gain 1 HP each round if you’re bloodied, you can’t die permanently, and you always know the direction of your DM assigned goal. Once that goal is complete, you die instantly. Bit of a downside, but tbh D&D games take forever, you’ll barely notice.

In life you were a Soldier, and while that doesn’t fit the background of both members of your party, the Athletics and Intimidation training will come in handy.

Ability Scores: Make sure your Charisma is as high as possible, you are terrifying, and you know it. Strength is a close second, because heads are notoriously difficult to separate. After that is Constitution, not only are ghosts hard to kill, but you’re also invisible half the time, which makes things even harder Your Wisdom isn’t bad- you can tell where people are when it’s time to take heads, but you still don’t really have eyes. You don’t really get off your horse that much, so your Dexterity is pretty low, but we’re dumping Intelligence. One of you is literally brainless, and the other is an animal. You won’t be solving Sudokus any time soon.

Class Levels:

1. Fighter 1: Starting as a fighter nets you plenty of goodies, including extra HP and weapon proficiencies so you can use a real scythe. You also get proficiency with Strength and Constitution saves, as well as Animal Handling to keep the king of Currumpaw under control and Perception. You can see without eyes, that’s pretty skillful.

You also get a Fighting Style, and if you really want to play D&D without a head the Blind Fighting style is a must, giving you blindsense in a 10′ radius around you.

You also get a Second Wind once per short rest as a bonus action which’ll heal you a bit. I guess that’s your oblivion correction.

2. Fighter 2: Second level fighters get an Action Surge, letting you take an extra action in a turn once per short rest. I hope you like it, because this is the only way you’ll be able to attack twice per turn for ages.

3. Sorcerer 1: While I wouldn’t call you a wizard, you do some wacky tricks that you can only really do in D&D with magic. Since these come from your being dead/unethical spirit origin mad science, I’d say a Shadow sorcerer is the closest thing in the rules books.

First level shadow sorcerers get Eyes of the Dark, giving you 120 feet of darkvision, which is really impressive for someone without eyes. You also get the Strength of the Grave, letting you make a Charisma save when you drop to 0 HP once per long rest. If you succeed, you drop to 1 HP instead. This doesn’t work on radiant damage or critical hits, but all that makes you more ghostly, so that’s probably fine.

You also get Spells that you can cast using your Charisma. Friends will help you work with your slobbery partner more easily, while True Strike and Sword Burst add a bit of flair to your weapon attacks. You also get the cantrip Mind Sliver to track down your prey.

For first level spells, Mage Armor will help out with riding around in a suit, and Expeditious Retreat makes you a bit harder to escape from. Both these spells can also be pretty useful for Lobo once he shows up.

4. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers are a Font of Magic, which lets you turn spell slots into Sorcery Points and vice versa. You can only have a number of sorcery points equal to your sorcerer level at most, and they refill on long rests.

You also learn the Jump spell to help the King of Currumpaw get around the crowded streets of Shinjuku.

5. Sorcerer 3: At third level you get two Metamagic options to alter your spells. Subtle Spell lets you cast magic without somatic or verbal components- very useful when you don’t have a mouth. Twinned Spell will let you cast spells on two targets instead of one, which is great for making both you and your ride invisible.

Enlarge/Reduce might not seem that useful, but trust me you’ll love it in a bit.

6. Sorcerer 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump your Strength up a bit for stronger melee attacks.

The cantrip Message will help you get around that whole “no mouth” thing to talk to your party members, and your first bit of Invisibility will make sneaking up on your target a breeze.

7. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers get Magical Guidance, using your sorcery points to re-roll failed ability checks. I’m not saying the Hessian is magically glued to his saddle or anything, but you never see him fall off, do you?

You also get third level spells, like Hold Person, which makes taking peoples’ heads off so much easier.

8. Sorcerer 6: As a sixth level sorcerer, you finally get your Hound of Ill Omen. Using three sorcery points, you can summon a hound as a bonus action, targeting a creature within 120 feet of you. It’s mostly a Dire Wolf, with a few changes:

It’s medium, not large, and a monstrosity, not a beast.

It gets temporary HP equal to half your sorcerer level.

It can move through solid objects as if it was difficult terrain, taking 5 force damage if it ends a turn in something.

The hound automatically knows the location of the target at the start of each turn.

On top of all that, it can only move towards the target, and can only use its action to attack the target. Also, the target gets disadvantage on saves against your spell while within melee range of the hound. The hound disappears after it or the target hits 0 HP, or after 5 minutes.

The big problem here is the size; you’ll either have to use Enlarge/Reduce to ride it, or just Be a Halfling.

Either way, you can also use Haste to double a creature’s movement speed, give them an extra action each turn, and boost their AC and dexterity saves. The creature also has to take a turn to rest after the spell ends, but that’s probably fine.

9. Sorcerer 7: Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells, like Dominate Beast. I know I just said Lobo technically isn’t a beast, but it’s the thought that counts.

10. Sorcerer 8: Now that you have a mount, we can get Mounted Combatant, giving you advantage on attacks against creatures smaller than your mount, and they get evasion. You can also force attacks that hit them to you instead. Don’t do that though, you’re a sorcerer, and Lobo can be rebuilt on a bonus action.

You can also Charm Monster this level, which comes with the added benefit of actually working on your wolf.

11. Sorcerer 9: Ninth level sorcerers get fourth level spells, like Greater Invisibility, which lets one target become invisible for the duration regardless of how many heads they take off.

12. Sorcerer 10: Tenth level sorcerers get another Metamagic option, like Extended Spell. A lot of your spells are buffs, and it would be awkward for that invisibility to drop when you’re halfway through a hunt.

You also learn Minor Illusion, because I couldn’t really come up with a sixth cantrip to give you but now you can make your cape look cooler, and Hold Monster. Just ask Sanson, a disappointingly small number of the things you fight are actually human.

13. Sorcerer 11: For your fifth level spell, Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise both makes you scarier and makes you a stronger fighter, making you immune to Fire and Poison damage as well as the poisoned condition. You also get +2 to your AC, gain a flying speed, and you can attack with your weapon twice per action, using your charisma instead of strength, and it counts as magical damage.

14. Sorcerer 12: Speaking of, let’s bump your Charisma up a bit for stronger Strength of the Grave saves and better magic.

15. Sorcerer 13: Lobo is now so fast you can Teleport as an action, moving you and up to eight willing creatures to a destination on your plane of existence. There’s a slight chance for failure that goes up the less familiar you are with the destination, but that’s probably fine.

16. Sorcerer 14: At fourteenth level, shadow sorcerers can Shadow Walk, letting you teleport between areas of dim light or darkness within 120 feet of each other as a bonus action.

17. Sorcerer 15: Your seventh level spell, Dominate Monster, finally lets you put Lobo fully under your control. He might not like it, but he’s only alive for five minutes at a time anyway.

18. Sorcerer 16: Use your last ASI to max out your Charisma for the toughest saves, strongest spells, and strongest attacks while using your Otherworldly Guise.

19. Sorcerer 17: Speaking of strong spells, you can now use your Blade of Disaster to cause disaster for anyone banking on an intact neck. You can create a magical blade that deals two attacks per bonus action, dealing 4d12 force damage on an attack. On a critical hit, the damage is tripled instead of doubled, and it crits on 18s or higher. Also, it can pass through anything, including a Wall of Force.

To make that even scarier, you can cast it as an Empowered Spell, letting you reroll up to five damage dice each attack.

20. Sorcerer 18: Your capstone level gives you an Umbral Form, letting you use a bonus action to become a shadow that can move through physical objects and has resistance on all damage besides force and radiant for a minute. You take 5 force damage if you end a turn inside an object.

This is especially useful given the fact that you have a ride that can only go forward, and already moves through objects itself.

Pros:

Once you lock onto a target, it’s really hard to shake you. With a hasted dire wolf, you can go 100 feet per round, you’ll always take the shortest route possible, and they literally can’t hide from you.

Two levels of fighter on any sort of caster is very useful, thanks to your action surge giving you an even better version of Quickened Casting.

Mounted Combatant is a nice enough feat, but it doesn’t do too much to help out here since a lot of your spells aren’t really attacks. That is until you realize Blade of Disaster makes melee attacks, and Mounted Combatant doesn’t specify it only works on weapon attacks. This means you can make all those attacks with advantage, further increasing your odds of getting enormous crits with each swing.

Cons:

The reason that great combo above doesn’t quite work is simple, though: You need your concentration focused on keeping your mount around at all, since without Enlarge/Reduce you’re stuck with a medium sized wolf. That also means you can’t haste the wolf and ride it. Or turn it invisible. Or even charm it.

The biggest problem here is Flavor. You can either do all the cool things Hessian Lobo does, or you can ride the wolf. These are mutually exclusive, unless you A) are a halfling, B) have a cool DM, or C) just invest in a horse.

Despite being a frontline fighter, all those levels of sorcerer make you incredibly Squishy. With a low AC and low HP, you’ll have a hard time sticking around without your invisibility. Normally this would be made up for thanks to your mount keeping you out of trouble, but your wolf only knows how to run even further into danger.

[dadsbongos]

Reges Sumus

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa (which game/anime? who tf knows) Dynamic: Izuru Kamukura/Reader (heavily mentioned Hajime Hinata/Reader) Warnings: despair arc tings, i tried to put more into izuru’s character so i’m sorry if he comes out ooc :( Summary: Izuru knows he’s miserable, but he can never find himself pulling away. ~~~

“The world has fallen into despair. A despair so deep the entirety of humanity has cascaded into bloodlust. Anger. Fear. Hatred. Those outside our walls feel it all. Those outside our walls are jealous of us. Of our hope. Of our unity. Of our home. We cannot let them take us. We cannot let them take anything that is rightfully ours. Protect this place with your lives, for if you fall - so does our hope. So do I. So go out and fight, fight with all you have, fight with all you are. For your spouses, for your parents, for your children - for me. As long as you do so, we can save this world. We will save this world using my Ultimate as a weapon.”

“Praise be, oh Dominus.”

“Praise be, Reges Sumus.”

(Y/n) outstretched her arms to the crowd, “Now go, my children, my loves, save this world!”

In near perfect synchronist, the people pulled down their masks and turned to the large front door of the ransacked mansion, picking up their guns, bats, and knives as they left. Just in case, of course, it wasn’t their fault if someone wasn’t willing to give their rations to the leader. Same as it wasn’t their fault if their bat slipped over someone’s head, hard enough to crack open the skull like a nut, or if their fingers slipped over the trigger long enough to kill a small family over a can of beans. It wasn’t their fault. It was despair’s. It was Junko Enoshima’s.

“Dominus, aye?”

Looking to the source of the voice, (Y/n) gave the boy a close-eyed smile, she turned completely and waved off the guards that escorted the pair, “Fuyuhiko, Peko, my dears!” she let her hands fall on the blond’s cheeks, pressing a holy kiss to his forehead, leaving a lipstick stain in her wake before moving onto Peko and doing the same, “It’s lovely to have you visit.”

They both knew better than to wipe off the lipstick stains on their skin, anything even close to slander aimed at (Y/n) could be met with merciless death at her follower’s vengeful hands.

Fuyuhiko looked about the lavish room, decorated with stolen jewels and furniture, before nodding, “Not fuckin’ shabby.”

“Thank you,” (Y/n) clasped her hands together, bringing them to her chest in delight, “As much as I adore having you here, I must ask why drop by so suddenly?”

Peko piped up, “We got chased out of a hideout. Kazuichi thought it’d be funny to send us some Monokumas.”

“Oh, my! That’s not good at all,” the girl shook her head before turning and beginning to walk up a set of stairs, “Come.”

Following close after, Fuyuhiko watched as his fellow Despair trailed her fingertips gently over the paintings of herself hung in the hall. (L/n), (Y/n), Ultimate Charisma, had truly built herself a cult of lies. The belief that somehow her followers could rebuild the world and rid it of despair, somehow she could save the world with the power of her ultimate status.

She had no intention of doing so, but it gave the people something to believe in and fight for - and that was good enough.

“Here we are,” (Y/n) opened a bedroom door, a queen-sized mattress laying on the floor with no bed frame, “It’s the best I can do at the moment, my dearest apologies.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fuyuhiko brushed off - he knew better than to complain.

Peko nodded, “This is enough.”

“I’m glad,” she gestured the pair inside, taking each of their hands and pressing a kiss to their knuckles, “Anything for my comrades.”

As she left, she shut the door. What despair would become of the poor soul whose room that was, a shiver went down (Y/n)’s spine at the mere thought.

Minor, of course, but only in the moment. It was one of many things that would slowly build up into a cacophony - and she was reveling in it.

Entering her own room, (Y/n) jumped slightly at the dark silhouette standing by her king-sized mattress, completed with the fanciest bed frame she could steal, before recognizing the long, flowing hair. She smiled at the boy, hands already reaching out for him, “Oh, Izuru, my darling,” she took his cheeks, lovingly brushing her thumbs over the bones and bringing his forehead to her lips in a staining kiss, “Did you get in with Fuyuhiko and Peko?”

He made no gesture of nodding but the agreement was there, or perhaps he simply ignored her question and she was projecting upon a blank canvas, “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to start a cult, but won’t they tear you apart when they realize what you’ve done?”

The lies she’s told. The things she’s stolen. The people she’s killed. The sins living in her veins thrived on every weeping babe and execution splattering across these walls of hers.

“Isn’t that the point? The despair. Having everything I’ve worked for crumble when the worms revolt,” she answered, sitting upon her bed and patting the space beside her for Izuru, “Sit, my dear, I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” he corrected.

“No, but I missed your face,” she leaned over, not particularly caring of any personal boundaries he may have, and brushed back his hair, slicking it away from his face and tying it back, “Well, it’s not truly your face, is it?”

Izuru didn’t respond, simply watching as the woman took a finger down the bridge of his nose.

“It’s Hajime Hinata’s,” her smile faded for the first time in a long time, a soft frown taking its place, “We were close, you know?”

“So I’ve heard,” Izuru grabbed (Y/n)’s wrist as her fingertip brushed his cupid’s bow, “I have no memory of that, you know.”

“I do.”

“So don’t force me to.”

“I’m not,” denying his claim, (Y/n) knew he didn’t believe her - though to be fair, she didn’t believe herself either, “I just like the despair of being so close, yet so far, from my beloved Hajime.”

Silence festered within the room once again.

A smile slowly teased back onto (Y/n)’s face, “You must be tired, but there’s something I simply have to show you.”

He knew where she was going with this, an attempt at recruitment as usual, but something deep, deep, deep down told him to go along with it. Perhaps it was a rare pity.

Perhaps it was the part of him enamored with the one called Dominus.

Perhaps it was the part of him that mourned the Ultimate Gamer.

Perhaps it was both.

Perhaps it was him. 

Any which way, he stood and followed after the woman, the red of the sky drenching the walls through cracked, dusty windows as they traversed down the hallway.

Passing Fuyuhiko and Peko’s room, passing the guard’s posts, passing the main room - (Y/n) led Izuru to a room at the very end of the grand corridor. Cardboard had been hastily tacked onto the wood with messy, uneven letters spelling out ‘nursery’ in bold. She pushed the door open easily enough, despite the clear indication it should’ve been locked, and gestured the long-haired man through. 

It was dark save for the faint light emanating from a baby monitor hooked onto a stained crib in the corner with ‘K.S’ etched into the corner. From what Izuru could see, there were about four cribs in the room and all of them filled with a sleeping baby.

“I feel no sympathy for babies in despair.”

“I never wanted kids,” (Y/n) brushed past the man and his words, her voice quiet to avoid waking the children, “I always thought they were snotty, whiny, loud, annoying little money-suckers who took and took and took until they were of age to take care of themselves and then they leave you forever…” she ran a finger over the sticky wood, “and I still do. But Hajime,” she hesitantly took a glance at Izuru, knowing she’d never find what she wanted in his gaze, “Hajime liked kids. He wasn’t sure he wanted any but I think he might’ve.”

Izuru watched the woman slowly revert back to his side to watch the babies as they slept, “So?”

“Do you want kids, Izuru?”

“I’m a war criminal.”

“War criminals can want kids, can’t they?” she huffed at his difficulty, previously cheery attitude slipping into her real feelings, “Someone being unfit to be a parent doesn’t stop them. I don’t know of any restrictions preventing someone from having a child, do you?” when he didn’t respond, she continued, “Hajime’s parents were unfit and still, they had him. I’m glad he was born but I wish it was to better people.”

“He didn’t seem to resent them. From what little I can feel of him.”

“He doesn’t seem to resent a lot of people he should. But it’s his life, who am I to interject?” she sarcastically mumbled, patience for Izuru Kamukura growing thinner, “I told him the procedure was an awful idea and look who’s standing next to me…”

“You seem to hate me and yet you strangely desire me at your side.”

“I told you already, it’s the despair.”

“I’m not stupid, (Y/n), I can see through you.”

Her shoulders tensed.

“Your request is impossible and you know that.”

She just wants her boyfriend back, is that really so much to ask for?

“My request is…” she paused, pursing her lips and furrowing her brows, “My request is…”

“I’ll be taking a room for the night,” he coldly informed.

“Stay with me,” (Y/n) took Izuru by his sleeve, fingers grasping at the clothes she’d never seen on her lover before - and she still hasn’t, technically. Because it wasn’t him, no matter how much she wished for him to magically wake up and be Hajime again - deep down, she knew better.

Izuru looked at the woman, her eyes slowly wetting and bottom lip quivering. She didn’t want him. She may have thought he was attractive, but that was only because he had stolen a man’s face.

She’d never want him.

It… stung. To know a woman so enamored with a lesser version of yourself, or who you had taken over, wasn’t similarly enamored with you. And she never could be. He didn’t like feeling so hurt over her rejection. He didn’t like knowing why it hurt.

Because he always wanted her.

He shook off her hand before wordlessly leaving the room and beginning his trek towards their shared abode for the night.

He wasn’t Hajime Hinata, he was Izuru Kamukura and he knew that no matter how much he wanted the sting to die, he would still be Izuru Kamukura when he woke up in (Y/n)’s arms the next morning.

It was Junko’s curse.

It was despair.