#expectations were low but so far it feels true to the inspiration and I'll take that

[dragonsasastronauts]

I would be lying if the new Fallout tv series wasn't tempting me to play a Fallout game again 👀

[ohmyamor]

Richkid!Ateez

a/n: no jongho in this because it was a request inspired by my original richkid jongho post as well as part 2.

hongjoong

you first met hongjoong when you stumbled upon him in an empty classroom long after school had ended

as the vice president for the arts club, you, along with the president of the club, were tasked with gathering some extra supplies

the two of you had gone to the administration to ask for more funding to buy some new supplies, ones that didn't look like they had been run through by a pack of first graders

but admin didn't seem to particularly care for such trivial things like the arts

dismissing you quite quickly and telling you to look for extra supplies around the school

and so, you and the president were tasked with going through every singly empty classroom in hopes of scrounging together some decent supplies

the president had taken the east side of the school, while you looked on the west side in hopes of covering more ground

dragging your feet, you walked towards the last classroom of your side of the school

so far, you had only managed to find a few more packs of colored pencils and markers

and although it wasn't anything remarkable, you were grateful to have found anything in the first place

so with low hopes, you prayed that you would be able to find something else in the last room

slamming the door open, you jump when you make eye contact with someone sitting in the middle of the room

all the desks are pushed to the sides of the room quite messily

some of the chairs are knocked over, like someone pushed them away in a rush and never bothered to pick it up

and in the middle of the mess sits Kim Honjoong

in front of him on the ground is a large black jacket that's spread out, different colored paints and markers surrounding him

of course, you know who he is

it's kind of hard not to

his family runs one of the biggest banks in the country, and they sent him to this school in hopes of properly preparing him to take over the family business

but (according to the rumors) Hongjoong had all but stuck his middle finger in his family's faces, slacking off and doing everything in his power to avoid learning anything about business and money

you had heard rumors that he was quite artistic, and looking at the beautifully painted jacket that lays on the ground in front of him, you believe the rumors are true

"Oh," you say awkwardly when Hongjoong looks up from his project to stare at you

"uh, sorry, I didn't think anyone else would still be here," you explain

Hongjoong tilts his head to side

"I like working here because no one ever uses this classroom so I can keep all my supplies safe," he gestures to the loads of paints that surround him

you nod, still feeling a little bit bad about walking in on him

"okay, well, I'm gonna go now," you point behind you and begin to close the door

"wait!"

you pause, peering into the classroom once again

"what are you doing here so late?" Hongjoong raises his eyebrow

"I'm part of the art club and we need more supplies, but this stupid school doesn't think the arts are worth their money," you roll your eyes, "so, we're stuck looking for extra ones in the empty classrooms."

"no offense," you add, realizing you just called this very prestigious school stupid in front of a kid who comes from a very prestigious family

Hongjoong cracks a small smile

"no offense taken"

it's quiet for another moment

"I didn't realize we had an art club," Hongjoong comments

you nod

"yeah, the school doesn't really like us promoting it. I'm pretty sure it's because they want everyone to join the fencing club or whatever rich people do on their free time," you joke

you can't help but feel a little bit proud at the way Hongjoong throws his head back in laughter

"maybe I'll join," he says once his laughter has died down

you're a little shocked, but do your best not to let it show on your face

"well, we meet every Thursday after school," you tell him

"just don't expect us to have all your fancy paints and stuff, we're on a budget"

Hongjoong giggles before sending you a cocky smile

"don't worry, I know some people who would love to make a very generous donation to the art club"

it's about a week later when you and your president get called into the office

the principal seems annoyed, tossing you guys a piece of paper that you soon realize is a check

grabbing it off the desk, you and the president can't help but stare with wide eyes and gaping mouths at the number of zeroes you see written

"wh-who donated this?" your president asks, completely floored

"The Kim family," replies your principal, muttering a "surprisingly" under their breath

later that day during lunch, you happen to pass by Hongjoong who's talking with his group of friends

the two of you make eye contact and he sends you a wink

looking away, you bite back the smile that threatens to appear on your face

seonghwa

"ohmygodimsofucked" you breathe out harshly, running through the doors of the building

you grip your bag tightly, praying that your stuff doesn't fall out of the small hole on the bottom

your cat had taken it upon herself to use it as a personal scratching post

although you're pretty sure she did it because she was mad that you started limiting her on how many treats she ate

you're not one for fat-shaming, but she was getting pretty chunky

your shoes squeak as you book it past different classrooms, ignoring the weird looks from the students inside of them

you were already late for your exam, and you had three minutes to make it to class before you exceeded the 10-minute grace period your teacher allowed on test days

you can already see the door at the very end of the hall and mentally cheer

almost there, almost there, almost the-

"what are you doing?"

you let out a scream as you feel the tip of your shoe scrape the ground, sending you hurdling forward

you shove your arms out in front of you and allow the palms of your hands to break the momentum of your fall

"ow" you wince, feeling the sharp sting from the tile flooring

"oh my goodness, are you okay?"

at the familiar voice, you look up, only to see none other than Park Seonghwa staring at you with concern

oh fuck

Park Seonghwa, top student in your grade and the entire school, teacher fan-favorite, and hall monitor

of course, not that Seonghwa was mean or anything

he has a reputation for being quite nice, causing all the students to love him

not to mention his other-worldly beauty

the amount of chocolate he gets on Valentine's Day could rival how much they sell at candy stores

but, he is also known for being quite serious when it comes to attendance and tardiness

whenever he catches students ditching class or being late, he has no problem lecturing them and giving them after school detention

which you absolutely cannot afford today because you have to go pick up your younger brother from his school across town

"excuse me?" his voice pulls you out of your worries

"huh?" you answer, staring at him wide-eyed

"are you okay?" Seonghwa stares at you concerned

"that was a pretty nasty fall," he comments, glancing down at the way you clench your hands to try and stop the stinging

reaching out, Seonghwa gently touches your hand

"May I?," he asks, looking up at you through his eyelashes

you can't reply, absolutely shocked at what's happening, only managing to give him a small nod

he ever so gently opens your hands and winces at the sight of your bright red and scratched up palms

without saying a word, Seonghwa brings his backpack to his front and opens the smallest pocket, rummaging around inside of it before letting out a satisfied hum and pulling something out

it's a cat band-aid

you can't stop the small "cute" that escapes your mouth at the sight of it

Seonghwa's face turns red

"they were the only ones left at the store," he mutters as he begins to carefully place the bandages on your hands

he says sorry when you let out a hiss at the sting

once he's done, Seonghwa helps you stand up and holds your bag out to you

"how come you're in such a rush?" he questions

you glance down at your phone, sighing when you realize that you've missed the 10 minute mark

"I had an exam today and my teacher allows us a ten minute grace period, so I was hoping I would make it," you explain, "but I already missed it."

Seonghwa frowns at the way you look so disappointed

"what class is it for?"

"statistics with Snow"

Seonghwa perks up at the mention of your teacher's name

"Snow? I had him last year, he loves me. If you want, I can tell him I needed your help with something and ask him to let you re-take the test, I'm pretty sure he'll say yes."

you stare at him, absolutely floored

"you would do that?"

what happened to the scary hall monitor everyone spreads rumors about?

Seonghwa hesitates, but nods

"I feel bad about scaring you and causing you to fall, which ultimately led to you missing class," he frowns

"I-Thank you, Seonghwa, I do't even know what to say," you tell him honestly

once again, a light pink flush makes its way onto Seonghwa's face

"y-yeah, of course"

taking a look at his watch, Seonghwa says something that shocks you even more

"well, since you aren't going to class, do you want to go with me to the convenience store down the block?"

did you hear that correctly?

not only is the Park Seonghwa letting you off the hook, he also bandaged your hands, offered to lie to your teacher to let you retake your exam, and now he's asking if you want to ditch for part of the day to go to the convenience store

what the fuck is going on today?

"I'm sorry, is the school's top student asking me if I want to ditch?" you can't help but tease

Seonghwa pouts slightly, crossing his arms

"I mean, I can just give you detention instead, if you want"

shaking your head no, you tell him that you'd be more than happy to go with him

"well then, let's go," he smiles, offering his arm to you, and the two of you begin making your way out of the building

yunho

you’re in your first period of the day, a chill class where your teacher allows everyone to do whatever they need/want

you sit quietly at your desk, working on some homework

some students around you do the same, while others chat quietly with their friends and some even use the time to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep

you’re so focused on completing this assignment that you don’t notice the student aid that walks into the classroom and hands your teacher a note

you only look up when the teacher calls your name

he motions you to come up to his desk

nervously, you place your pencil down and make your way to the front

“Looks like we have a new student and the office wants you to show him around,” your teacher explains, handing you the office note

you wordlessly take it from him, looking down at the paper

“Go ahead and grab your things, I’ll let your other teachers know that you might be late for your next class.”

nodding, you walk back to your desk to quickly pack up your things before heading out

once you reach the office, you walk in, sending a kind smile to the ladies who work in the front

one of them nods her head towards the principal’s room and you thank her before making your way over

knocking on the door, you wait until you hear the principal’s “come in” before opening the door and stepping inside

“Ah, (Y/n), thank you for coming in,” your principal smiles

“This is Jeong Yunho, he’s our newest student who just transferred from a different school district.”

the boy stands up from the chair and reaches out his hand

you shake it, slightly taken aback at his height

he’s incredibly tall, with black dyed hair, and yet, despite his intimidating stature, his face is kind

“Nice to me you Yunho,” you greet politely

he smiles a bit shyly, giving you a quiet hello and looking away

“As one of our top and most involved students, I knew you would be the best choice to guide Yunho around the school and help him get adjusted,” your principal smiles.

she claps her hands together

“So go ahead you two. Yunho, don’t worry, you’re in great hands with our (Y/n) here and I hope you have an excellent first day,” she smiles before ushering the two of you out

you and Yunho stand outside in the hallway, an awkward silence overcoming the both of you

“Can I see your schedule?” You ask politely

he nods, reaching into his pocket and digging out the paper

you scan your eyes over it, humming when you notice that you share most of your classes with him

“Well you’re in luck,” you send him a smile. “Looks like we share most of our classes so you can just follow me around for today.”

“Great,” Yunho replies, the tips of his ears turning slightly red

and so throughout the day, you guide Yunho to your shared classes, telling him what buildings are for which classes and some of the best spots for some quiet time

his last two classes of the day are different from yours, so you take it upon yourself to get a campus map and label where his classes are going to be

as the bell rings for lunch, you take your time packing up your things

most of the students have already filed out of the classroom by the time you’re done

and you can’t help but jump when you look up and notice Yunho standing in front of your desk

“Oh, Yunho, is everything okay?” you ask

he nods

“Yeah everything’s great, but I, uh-” his eyes flicker around nervously

“I was wondering if we could have lunch together? I don’t really know anyone else,” he admits, a shy smile taking over his face

you think about it for a second before nodding

“Yeah of course we can. But I’m sure by the end of the week you’ll have your own little group to hang out with, so don’t worry,” you reassure him

Yunho doesn’t admit that he quite enjoys spending his day with you

and so you two eat lunch together, sitting side by side in the courtyard and chatting, getting to know each other

by the time the lunch period ends, Yunho can’t help but pout

“We don’t have anymore classes together right?”

you shake your head

“No but I’m sure you’ll do great,” you send him a reassuring smile

he frowns for a split second and seems to curl into himself slightly before an idea pops into his head

“Let’s go eat after school!” he suggests cheerfully

You pause

“What?”

“After school, my family’s driver is picking me up, so if you don’t have anything to do, let’s go eat together!”

“I don’t know about that,” you trail off

you figured he would be tired of you by now, but offering to go eat together after school?

“C’mon, I’ll even pay,” Yunho attempts to bribe you

he can see the hesitance on your face and gently touches your arm

“I really enjoy hanging out with you (Y/n),” he stares into your eyes

“And I’d love it if we can become friends rather than going our separate ways.”

you feel your chest warm at his words

and the way Yunho stares at you with wide, starry eyes makes you falter

you sigh

“Alright, let’s hang out after school,” you relent

“Meet me here after your last class and we can leave together.”

Yunho’s smile is breathtaking and you have to force yourself to look away

maybe this won’t be too bad you think

yeosang

out of all your classes, you think this one has to be your favorite

orchestra

you’ve been playing cello for as long as you could remember, and to be able to take a class solely dedicated to the instrument is perfect

you sit in the corner of the room where you and few other cello players have set up, watching as your instructor claps her hands

“Okay students, as you know, our spring recital is coming up.”

a few of the students cheer and a smile takes over the instructor’s face

“This year, we've decided to do things a little differently. Rather than having student solos, I thought it would be a great idea to have you guys do duets with your classmates.”

there’s mixed reactions, some students groaning while others look excitedly at their friends

“But, before you all get excited, I already went ahead and paired each of you up with a player of a different instrument.”

this time, more groans ring out throughout the room

you fidget in your seat slightly

while you don’t particularly love this idea, it’s also not necessarily the worst thing that could happen

meanwhile, the instructor has already begun to read off pairs of names

“Yeosang and (Y/n)”

you blink

Yeosang?

as in, the best violinist in your school?

oh fuck

you look around the room before finding the back of his head

his long blonde hair is styled nicely, and you watch as he reaches a hand up to gently push some of his hair behind his ear

if you weren’t nervous before, you’re definitely nervous now

once your instructor has finished reading off the pairs, she allows you all to break and get together with your partner

you sit and fidget with your bag, unsure if you should make your way over to Yeosang, or if he’s coming to you

the sound of someone clearing their throat causes you to look up

Yeosang stands in front of you, hand gripping the case for his violin

“(Y/n), right?”

you nod

“Looks like we’re partners,” he says slightly awkwardly

you nod once again, unable to look him directly in the eyes

“Okay, well, I think it would be best if we meet up after school to practice together. Meet me in the main parking lot and we can go over to my house.”

his house??

you clear your throat before replying, “okay that sounds good."

Yeosang gives you a curt nod before the bell rings and he makes his way out of the classroom

after school, you stand alone in the almost empty parking lot

next to you is your cello case and in your hands is a box of chocolate croissants one of your friends had given you

where is he? you think, beginning to get a little nervous at the thought that Yeosang might've forgotten about you

you're about to begin walking away when you spot him running out of the doors

by the time he gets to you, his normally pristine hair is slightly messy and out of place, and he pants hard

you resist the urge to fix his hair for him

"Sorry about that," Yeosang apologizes once he's regained his breath

"One of my teachers asked me to stay back to help him with something and I hadn't realized how late it had gotten," he admits sheepishly

you wave him off, letting him know it's not a big deal

"I thought you might've forgotten about me," you joke

Yeosang shakes his head

"never."

before you even have a chance to comprehend his answer, he's reaching out to pick up your cello case

you frantically try to stop him from picking it up, but he gently shoos away your hands

"I'm stronger than I look, lovely"

he guides you to his car where he carefully puts away your instruments, opening the passenger door for you and getting settled himself

once the two of you reach his house, you watch in slight awe as the large gates to the property open up

pulling up to the very front door, Yeosang begins to get out of the car and you follow, clutching the box of sweets

you watch as he hands a man in a suit the car keys before guiding you inside the house

"If you don't mind me asking," he starts. "What are those?" he gestures to the pink box in your hand

"Oh!" you look down

"A friend of mine gave me some chocolate croissants during our last period."

you push the box towards him

"Feel free to have some, as a thank you for letting me practice here and for the ride"

with a small smile, Yeosang thanks you and reaches into the box, grabbing one and pulling it out

you grab one for yourself as well before the two of you get started on learning the music sheets

it's a few minutes later when you look up at Yeosang and let out a small laugh

he has chocolate smeared on the side of his mouth and he even managed to get some on the tip of his nose

"I'm guessing the croissant was good?" you gesture to the small mess on his face

pulling his phone out, he looks in his camera and begins to turn red

you laugh even louder, reaching into your backpack to pull out a tissue

you lean across the table, getting close to Yeosang's face and ever so gently wiping off the chocolate

when you finally move away, Yeosang doesn't know if his face is red from the embarrassment or from having you so close to him

san

"c'monnnn, you have to go to at least one of their games before we graduate!" your friend pesters you about attending the school's baseball game this upcoming Friday

sure, a lot of the boys on the team are nice to look at

but between academics, extra curricular's, and family obligations, you don't really have time to be going to watch boys in tight pants run around a field

you roll your eyes, shoving her off from where she's draped herself on your shoulder

"I really don't" you reply dryly, taking a bite of your sandwich

your friend rolls her eyes

"whatever, if you think I'm gonna give up on trying to convince you then you're sorely mistaken"

she grins, and you wince

you know better than anybody that when she puts her mind to something, she always gets what she wants

the bell signaling the end of the lunch period rings and you begin to pack up your lunch

"I'll meet you after school for our volunteer hours!" your friend waves goodbye as she begins heading towards her class

you wave back and continue packing up

you sling your backpack over your shoulder, beginning the walk to the science building

just as you turn the corner, you crash into something hard

you let out a small "oof" and stumble back

before you're able to fall on your ass, a hand reaches out and grabs you by the arm, helping to stabilize you

you look up to see who you crashed into

Choi San

star player of the baseball team and the it boy of the school

"I'm so sorry!" he apologizes, eyes wide

you wave him off

"it's okay, I wasn't looking where I was going either."

he bites the inside of his cheek and tilts his head

"I don't think I've seen you around before, what's your name?"

you hesitate a little

you're a scholarship student, and while you're very proud of how your work ethic that has gotten you this scholarship to such a fancy school

you can't help but be a little nervous telling one of the most popular and wealthy students in the school who you are

"(Y/n)" you eventually reply when San's eyes won't leave yours

his eyes light up

"I thought you looked familiar! You're one of the top students in our entire grade"

you feel your face get warm and look down at your shoes

"uh, yeah, that's me"

"do you think you could help me in my language class?" San questions

you blink, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth

"uhhhh"

quite frankly, you have a lot on your plate

and you're not sure you can handle taking on another student to tutor

"I promise I'm not a lost cause!" San all but begs

"I'm just a few points away from being suspended from playing on the team and I really can't stand the idea of not playing," he rubs the back of his neck nervously

San stares at you with such hope in his eyes that you can't find it in yourself to say no

so you sigh and relent, nodding your head as San breaks into a wide smile

you notice the dimples that pop up on his cheeks when he grins

cute

"thank you thank you thank you!"

he glances down at his phone before letting out a small "oh shit"

"class is about to start, I should get going,"

"Thank you again (Y/n), for agreeing to tutor me, I really do appreciate it"

just as he begins walking away, he pauses and turns back around

"Are you coming to our game this Friday?"

"I'm not really a huge sports person," you admit. "So, probably not."

San pouts and you immediately feel the need to take back your response

"But I guess I can try making it to one."

oh your friend is never going to let you live this down

another blinding smile makes its way onto his face

"I promise to play my best to make it worth your time."

San sends you a wink

"I gotta impress my pretty tutor"

mingi

you stand awkwardly next to your dad, staring at Mingi

when your dad had mentioned that one of his friends suggested this "really great mechanic" in the neighborhood who was also "kinda young", the thought that it might be someone in your grade had never even crossed your mind

you honestly didn't even think it would be a possibility

"oh, do you two know each other?" your dad asks, looking back and forth between you and Mingi

"sort of?" you reply hesitantly

sure, you knew who he s

one of the wealthiest, smartest, hottest kids in your grade

but the two of you weren't friends by any means

the most interacting you had done was a brief "sorry" when you guys had bumped into each other in the hallway that one time

you were brought out of your thoughts when Mingi sent your dad a bright smile, reaching forward to shake his hand

"Hi sir, I'm Mingi, I share a couple of classes with (Y/n)."

he knows my name?

your dad nods, seeming impressed by the boy's manners

"well, I'm here because I've been having some car trouble and a friend of mine recommended you. I was hoping you could spare some time to take a look at it," he pats the hood of the car

Mingi nods

"Of course sir. As long as nothing's causing major issues, I should be able to get it back to you in two days," Mingi says, taking a glance at the vehicle. "I'm a little backed up with appointments right now, but I promise to try my best to get it done as fast as possible"

your dad nods

"Thanks, son."

a grin makes its way onto your dad's face

"And just remember, I know what school you go to if you do anything to hurt my baby."

you groan, missing the way Mingi's eyes dart to you rather than the car

"I would never," Mingi replies seriously

"daaaaaad" you shove his shoulder slightly, feeling your face heat up

facing Mingi, you apologize for you dad's comments

the last thing you need is for his parents to show up at your house questioning you as to why your father decided to threaten their son

just then, the sound of a phone ringing begins to echo through the small garage

pulling his phone out of his pocket, you watch your dad's eyebrows furrow as he reads the name of the caller

"give me a second kids," he says, bringing the phone up to his ear and stepping out of the garage to answer the call

once the door is shut, you look back at Mingi, who, to your surprise, is already staring at you

"I'm sorry about that," you apologize once again. "He's pretty serious about his car, doesn't like to let a lot of people touch it."

Mingi nods understandingly

"No worries, I get it. I guess I should be honored he trusted me enough to bring it here," he grins

taking a look around, you can't help but be a little impressed by how legit everything looks

not that you know much about mechanic shops

"So, I didn't know you were also a mechanic outside of school," you mention. "I thought your parents would want you to focus on business and stuff like that."

Mingi's ears turn warm and he brings an arm up to rub the side of his neck

"That's because they don't really know I do this," he admits

your mouth drops open

"How do you manage to run all of this on your own without them finding out?"

he shrugs

"'s not hard when they're never home in the first place."

you frown

"but don't feel bad," Mingi continues, noticing the look on your face. "This is something I really enjoy doing and I'm glad I can do this all on my own."

the way Mingi's face brightens up when talking about something he's so obviously passionate about makes your heart feel fuzzy

before you can say anything else, the door to the garage opens and your dad walks back in

"Sorry sweetheart, but we're gonna have to get going. The guys back at the office are having trouble sorting this deal out and they need my help," your dad rolls his eyes

"Thanks again, son, for helping me out. Whenever my car's ready just go ahead and let my daughter know since you guys see each other at school anyways," your dad places a hand on your shoulder

"I didn't sign up to be your messenger," you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest

Mingi lets out a deep laugh

"Of course, sir"

your dad begins walking out after saying goodbye to Mingi, and you follow, pausing at the door to look back at him

"Bye Mingi," you smile, sending him a small wave

"Bye (Y/N), I'll see you in class," he calls out

once the two of you leave, Mingi gets to work taking a look at your dad's car

maybe, just maybe, this car will finally give him the chance to talk to you more

wooyoung

you and Wooyoung had actually been best friends for as long as you could remember

when you were younger, your mom had been hired by Wooyoung’s family to tutor him in any and all subjects

as she was a single mom and couldn’t always afford babysitting, she would often times bring you along with her when she went to Wooyoung’s family’s house

most of the time you would sit quietly on one of the large couches and work on homework or color

but one day, a small Wooyoung had managed to sneak away from your mom and come see you

he’d always see his tutor coming in and out of the house alongside a young girl around his age, but he never actually saw you up close or talked to you

and so, as any child would do, his curiosity got the better of him and he went out in search of answers

despite the initial scare he gave you when he screamed “BOO” in your ear, the two of you had gotten along quite nicely

after his tutoring sessions and when you were done with homework, your mom and Wooyoung’s parents would watch with fond eyes as you two chased each other around the large backyard

as you both grew up, and even when your mom stopped needing to tutor him, the two of you remained incredibly close

it’s how you were even able to attend this fancy school in the first place

the tuition certainly cost an arm and a leg, something your mom would never be able to afford on her own

but Wooyoung’s parents insisted that you attend as well, saying it was one of the best schools in the country and they would put in a good word for you

they also took it upon themselves to cover the cost of your tuition, saying that at least this way, they knew you would keep an eye on their son

and so you and Wooyoung had fallen into a comfortable routine with each other, knowing the other person inside and out

so when one day you were late leaving your last class, Wooyoung couldn’t help but grow slightly concerned

you’re an incredibly punctual person, and even on the rare occasion that you would be late, you always made sure to let him know ahead of time

tapping his foot on the pavement anxiously, Wooyoung leaned against his sleek back car and glanced at his watch

“Where is she?” he muttered to himself

only the sound of your laughter caused him to look up

you were finally walking towards him, but next to you was a boy

Wooyoung stared hard at the guy next to you, watching with distaste as you waved bye a little too enthusiastically to him before skipping over to the car

“Who was that?” he asks, intrigued and annoyed at the same time

“Oh, he’s in my statistics class,” you reply vaguely

Wooyoung stares at you, noticing the way you seemed to fidget nervously and the way you kept rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet

he knows you like the back of his hand, and he knew that you weren’t telling him something

quirking a brow, Wooyoung says nothing, only continuing to stare

you sigh, reaching into your pocket to pull out a piece of paper

“He asked me out,” you finally admit, handing him the number

Yanking it out of your hand, Wooyoung looks at the phone number and address the boy had written down

“He didn’t even offer to pick you up?” your best friend scoffs

you roll your eyes

“It’s not that big of a deal Woo” you argue

he fixes you with a stern look

“I thought I raised you better than to have such low standards,” he shakes his head

“I’m literally a few months older than you!” You cry out

Clicking his tongue, Wooyoung crumples up the piece of paper and tosses it carelessly to the side, ignoring your protests

“I’m not letting you go out with some mediocre boy,” he says, opening the car door and gesturing for you to get inside

He closes the door as you try and argue with him, beginning to walk over to the driver’s side

Wooyoung elects to ignore the jealous monster that has made itself known in his heart over the idea of you going out with someone else

someone other than him

getting settled in the drivers seat, Wooyoung starts the car before turning to face you with a cheeky grin

“Dinner?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

screaming into my pillow :)

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Can I request recovery 🛌 or lonely/touch starved 🥺 for Cloe? I know you said they were one of your OCs that you didn’t really feel creative about so if you don’t have any inspiration, don’t worry!

Prompts from Nonhuman Whump Emoji Prompts

Aww thank you!! Mostly I don't have a solid plotline in mind for Cloe, he's more just a concept I thought up but didn't do much with. But I'd like to write more of him so I'm going to try!

About Cloe: he's a winged character. In his world there are a few different species of winged folk whose evolution diverged to suit different environments. Cloe's species are short, slender, lightweight, they're quick and nimble but fragile. They have small feathery wings that are only good for low gliding over short distances. They live in grassy and sparsely forested areas, are generally mild-mannered, peaceful, and are vegetarian.

There's another species that evolved to live up in the mountains. These ones are tall and strong with huge wings, they can soar really high and far. They're predatory and aggressive as a species and don't think much of Cloe's species, sometimes going so far as to capture them to keep as pets or slaves or just to torment. Many of their captives die from poor treatment.

Oops this got long

Content Warnings: winged whumpee, captivity, mentions of pet whump, enslavement, torture, and death, broken bones, bruises, blood, stabbed, painful restraints, passing out, starvation, exhaustion, rescue, female caretaker, reluctant caretaker, 'it' as a pronoun

----

"I'm getting a new one tomorrow. This one is no fun anymore."

"What are you going to do with it?"

Omeron snorts. "Dunno. Don't care. You want it?"

Galea makes a face at the suggestion. "Me?"

"Why not? They're easy to care for. Don't eat a lot, don't take up a lot of space."

"I just don't see the point."

It's true, she never has. The smaller winged folk are too weak for hard labor, too timid to make good companions, and can't even fly properly. Galea has no use for one, and lacks the sadistic streak to want one just to push around.

"How about this. You take it for a day. See if you like it. If you don't, I'll toss it."

He means, quite literally, to throw it from the mountain, the fate of many a discarded pet.

"Fine," she concedes, just to get Omeron to leave her to eat lunch in peace. "I'll pick it up later. Now shut up."

-

That afternoon Omeron is out hunting. True to her word, Galea goes on her own to his home for her secondhand small-wing. He told her it would be out back, and sure enough there it is.

Unsurprisingly, the creature is in awful condition. It is pinned to the back wall of the hut by daggers through its little wings, which are mangled and bloodstained. It is malnourished, sunburned, coated in dark bruises, a broken arm hanging limp at its side.

Broken is the wrong word. Crushed is more like it.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" she grumbles.

The creature startles awake at the sound of her voice. It whines softly and cradles its arm but doesn't attempt to move beyond that. By now it must be used to this.

Big, sorrowful gray eyes stare back at Galea, only at eye level with the much taller winged woman because it is pinned up on the wall. Galea stares back, taking in its weak breaths and red-rimmed eyes. Only then does she realize she has never seen one of these up close.

Curious, she reaches a hand out. The small-wing flinches and squeezes its eyes shut, expecting a blow or tight grip. But Galea just wants to feel its silky hair. She pets it a few times and the creature gradually relaxes. It even nuzzles at her hand.

Omeron definitely doesn't pet it, she thinks. That isn't his style. The hand-shaped bruises around the creature's wrists and neck...that's more what she expects. The qualities that make him a formidable hunter and warrior don't exactly make him a doting pet owner.

"Can you speak?" she asks.

It flinches again at her firm tone and averts its gaze.

"Yes," it whispers.

"Do you have a name?"

It hesitates.

"...Cloe," it replies softly.

"Looks like you're mine now, Cloe," Galea says. She is still reluctant about all of this but she never says anything she does not mean, and she said she would take in this battered little thing for a day, so she will.

Galea removes the knives from its wings, neither cruel nor gentle, just quick and efficient. Cloe gives a feeble cry and faints into her waiting arms.

It - he - is even lighter than she imagined; she cradles his broken body effortlessly. She can feel every little quiver and hitched breath he makes, troubled even in unconsciousness. His skin is hot - whether from sunburn or swelling, bruises or fever, or all of the above, she can't tell.

Poor thing...

-

Galea takes care of her things. Her home is well kept, her wings well groomed, her weapons sharpened.

Now Cloe is hers too, if only for a short time.

She lies him on a large cushion in the corner. Against the dark fabric he seems even paler, scrawnier, more pitiful. Feathers fall from his damaged wings, the surest sign of poor health for their kind.

Uncharacteristically, Galea didn't plan this far ahead. She sort of hoped Omeron might change his mind and decide to keep his pet a little longer. But now the small-wing is here and she has to decide what to do with him.

He is in no shape to work and she has the feeling that was never why Omeron kept him in the first place. Still out cold, he isn't much good as a companion, either. And she has no desire to harm him.

Instead Galea finds herself examining the wounded creature more thoroughly.

Beyond the most obvious injuries there are many other, subtler signs of his mistreatment. His hands and feet, once soft from a life spent on grass and dirt, are scraped, calloused and blistered from the stone and wood surfaces of mountain living. Bones in his right ankle, left hip, and sternum feel at least fractured if not worse. His breaths are thin and labored, suggesting internal damage. On his back there is a barely healed scar that she recognizes as caused by a spear. That must be how Omeron caught him.

And then there are his wings.

Cloe's brittle wings are broken in more places than she can count. They are punctured clear through in several places, leaving the white feathers stained red. When she runs her fingers through them they shed easily.

Galea pulls her hand away with a shudder and shakes off the feathers. She tucks her own large, powerful wings closer to her back, fearfully imagining them as ruined as Cloe's. It would be a fate worse than death.

-

Galea continues the rest of her evening like normal - dinner in the hall, her evening patrol, sparring as the sun sets, a bath in the spring and grooming her wings. By the time she returns home she has nearly forgotten about her new 'pet'.

Cloe's eyes are closed, but when Galea shuts and locks the front door he jolts awake. Immediately he groans and cradles his shattered arm again.

He watches Galea approach with bleary eyes, labored breaths, little quivers. He knows as well as she does that he is completely at her mercy.

The pitiful sight should repulse her, a warrior who wouldn't dream of looking so helpless, who would die fighting rather than submit to the whim of a captor.

But instead it presses on something inside her like a thumb on a bruise. It comes with the overwhelming urge to soothe the frightened little thing rather than punish or mock him. Unsettled by the feeling, she clenches and unclenches her fists a few times and breathes slowly, grounding herself.

Mere minutes later she is sitting cross-legged beside the cushion with her medical kit, smoothing a numbing salve over his broken arm. Cloe bites down on his lip to keep quiet despite what must be excruciating pain as she maneuvers the limb around. She efficiently splints and bandages it.

Galea silently treats every break, bruise, and cut to the best of her ability. Even at her gentlest, Galea's grasp is firm; she isn't used to handling something so fragile. Cloe winces and whimpers but never complains. Gradually the medicine dulls his sharpest pains and tension eases from his body. Soon he can barely keep his eyes open.

"Don't sleep yet," she instructs him.

Cloe nods, visibly forcing himself to stay awake. Galea pours a cup of juice. Then she cups Cloe's head with one hand and easily sits him up. She holds the cups to his lips and waits until he drinks the whole thing.

"More?" she asks.

"I can have more?" Cloe whispers.

Galea answers by pouring another cup. She indulges herself by indulging him - allowing him to drink to his heart's content. When he's finished his head lolls to one side and he gazes up at her with reverence.

"Thank you."

"Don't," Galea insists.

And she means it. For now there is a sense of ownership. She agreed to have Cloe for a day and leaving him in that state was unacceptable. Tomorrow, who knows.

Cloe is asleep the moment Galea settles him back onto the cushion. She covers him with her cloak and prepares for bed.

As she falls asleep she can't help but picture Cloe thrown from the mountain, disappearing into the fog below as he falls to his certain death. The image follows her into her dreams and makes a home at the back of her mind.

[secret-ssociety]

ᴅɪꜱᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ

La voz de Antonio

Pairing(s): Camilo Madrigal x oc

Warnings: hints of underage drinking and drunkenness

Summary: Finally, it is time for the Madrigals to welcome a new gift into their family, but Antonio's gift ceremony might be the start of something more chaotic than anyone expects

A/N: I'll leave this right here so you can bless your eyes

masterlist

[ 7 ] [ 9 ]

After sewing the buttons back on the vest in a rush that made her stab the tip of her index finger several times, Antonia pretty much sprinted out of her house and in direction of casa Madrigal. Even the cordiality she responded every greeting with on her way up was accelerated by the vibrance of that day's importance.

The Sun was bright on top of the busy town of Encanto, indicating that Pepa was either in a good mood or she was doing back flips in order to deliver the village a weather that allowed that night's gift ceremony to be set up in perfection. The girl's espadrilles moved so quickly up the stone road it was pretty much only the tips of her feet making contact with the ground, and in the trance of her hurry, she barely noticed the intense staring on her back.

No one noticed Antonia's growth in Encanto until after her seventeenth birthday, when the child she was leaving behind was impossible to ignore. As she started to make her way into an early adulthood, the boys that were younger than her poured less effort into concealing their intent gazes and the ones she was contemporary with spent hours talking about the bounce of her curls and the shape of her Cupid's bow in conversations where the word ‘marriage’ slipped far too often.

All the old childhood marks of sunburn had wiped off of her cheekbones like the Sun of Encanto was more healing that damaging, the chubbiness of her face had begun to melt away, revealing a bone structure no one could had foreseen was buried beneath her chipmunk cheeks, her voice was steadier and she carried herself with a straighter back. Every day after work, Carlos stood by the door of their house, almost fearfully, waiting for the poor bastards that would soon start coming to ask for her hand in marriage.

The inside of casita reflected the mayhem Antonia felt inspired by, everyone was running around delivering decorations, carrying ingredients and accomodating furniture out of the way. She was right in time to catch Mirabel before she fell after having bumped into the men carrying the couch.

"Woah there," she exclaimed placing her friend back on her feet and staring at the big basket full of stuff in her hands, "what's all that?"

"Oh, hum," Mirabel stammered, looking down at it, "it's señor Jorge's special— well, not special special."

It took Antonia a moment to realize what the “not special special” thing meant, and she had to suppress a sigh when she got it. Like everyone else, she knew how hard that day was going to be on her friend, the first ceremony after her failed one, and no one really knew what was the best way to act around her for it, but Antonia had the feeling condescendence was not the way to go.

Before she could say what she had opened her mouth to say, Camilo's voice resounded from the top floor. "Mi vida!"

The girl with the glasses didn't even attempt to ignore the way her friend's cheeks lit up at the nickname and the voice that pronounced it, and she had to clench every muscle in her body to hold the urge of rolling her eyes.

"Oh, no, no, I have to take these to the kitchen," Mirabel shook her head when Antonio motioned for her to come upstairs with her, "you go. Your daughter is calling for you."

True enough, Chapola was sat by Camilo's feet, howling vehemently in the direction of her other parent, who she had not seen since the day before. "Okay." She whispered, shooting Mirabel a wink before going up the stairs casita built for her as she advanced.

Oh, Mirabel loved Antonia and Camilo dearly, but her patience that day was running low enough after the humiliating exchange with the children of the village a few minutes ago and it wouldn't survive even a second of pretending she wasn't annoyed of her best friend and her cousin acting like they weren't absolutely smitten with each other. She feared she would end up grabbing the back of their heads and pushing them together: maybe they would kiss, maybe they would break their noses, honestly, whatever happened she would consider the will of God.

"Hey, you." Camilo greeted her with a smile.

Ever since his lovestruck realization, he had acquired a more flirty behaviour towards his best friend, an endeavour that had ended up developing into a natural part of their relationship.

"Hi." She met back when she reached the last step. Camilo's smile grew at the sight of her wearing the skirt he liked and the sparkly thing on the corners of her eyes.

"Mi vida, quick question," he said leaning against the column with his arms crossed as she crouched to pet their hound lovingly and waited for her to let a sound that confirmed she was listening, "have you been teaching Chapola to sleep under the covers? Because last night she wouldn't leave me alone until I opened them for her."

Antonia smiled sheepishly. "Nights have been cold."

"She gets my bed all full of hair."

"Well, I guess now you have no option but to make your bed every morning. Consider it a favor."

Their quarreling was cut off by the arrival of doña Alma, instructing José behind them to lift the poster with Antonio's name higher. "Camilo, we need another José." She said once the right side of the poster was on her desired height.

The boy shot his friend a wink and a smirk before responding with the man's name and turning into him to lift the other side of it. That was when Alma noticed Antonia standing there and her features softened, "Toña, do you have the vest?"

"Yes," she responded like she had just remembered the whole purpose of her presence there, lifting the linus vest she was holding with care not to wrinkle it. Antonio had been at her house that morning to pick up his suit for the ceremony, but right when he was trying it on, they noticed the young tailor had accidentally made the vest a few inches too big.

Alma didn't even ask to see the fixed vest and check if it was the right size now, she trusted the girl's hands, so she simply motioned for her to follow her. Antonia returned Camilo's wink before doing so.

The woman smiled at her youthful enthusiasm, as they walked and she looked around at all the decorations and Isabela's bouquets of begonias. Alma, opposite to most people, had always been aware of Antonia's growth, maybe the reason people overlooked it was that she had always something too much of an adult... but never for her.

"Are you excited for tonight?" She asked, getting the attention of the big eyed teenager.

Truth was, she wanted her to harness her childhood for a little longer, for the burdens of adulthood could comfortably wait a little longer for the moment she was ready to hold them. All the responsibility she had taken so young, all the maturity she'd had to inject in herself to overcome the pain of her loss… Alma never admitted it, not even to herself, but there was a lot of herself she saw reflected on Antonia, maybe that was the reason she took the girl's happiness at heart like her grandchildren did, that she wished for Antonia the youth that had been ripped from her own hands all those years ago.

Earning wrinkles and grey hairs sooner than everyone else, she had managed to push back the strains of grieving past times long enough for her daughters to find happiness, maybe she could do the same for this stranger that was only truly happy when Camilo cared for her laughter.

"Yeah!" She exclaimed happily, although she didn't quite know how to explain her excitement. In the village of Encanto, everyone was so used to the Madrigals' magical gifts that magic had almost became part of the ordinary, but the night that inched closer threw her back to the same wonder she had felt on that first week.

As they walked, they passed in front of the set of pictures of each Madrigal children standing beside doña Alma the night they got their gifts, and Antonia looked at them keenly, like she always did. It wasn't a shocker that her favourite picture was Camilo's, because of the pose he had in it; standing there and smiling wasn't enough, no, he had to throw his theatricality into everything.

"Where is Mateo?" Abuela Alma asked, worried that he would be late to his best friend's ceremony.

"Oh, he rolled in a pool of mud," Antonia answered with a shrug, "my mom had to give him a bath and find new clothes for tonight. They'll be here soon."

The elder woman sighed looking at the time in her wrist watch. "I hope so, because we only have an hour left." She said before announcing the remaining time in a louder tone. "Now, where is that boy?"

Out of all her grandchildren, Antonio was by far the better at hiding, she knew they wouldn't have the smallest hint of his location if he didn't want to be found, but he needed to put on his vest to make sure it was the right fitting— not that there would be any time to fix if it wasn't.

In the end, she told Antonia to give her the vest, for she would continue to look for the birthday boy while she went home to get her family, the Sun was already setting and the Garcías were nowhere to be seen.

Camilo had offered to go with her, but he was dragged by his dad right when they were about to cross the door. Everyone was arriving and they had to wait for Antonio behind the curtain, so he had to watch her leave the house with an amused smirk, one that almost sent him into cardiac arrest because it wasn't all that common in her. Oh, she was going to be the death of him.

When she reached her house, she was almost thankful Camilo hadn't been able to accompany her, because havoc had unleashed in the inside of the house. Anastasia ran behind a dripping Mateo who hated linus so much he threatened to go to the ceremony naked, while Carlos rummaged around looking for a shirt after having somehow burned the one he was planning to wear that evening.

After ten minutes of bargaining, Mateo agreed to wear clothes as long as they were cotton and Carlos had to wear the blue guayabera that left him matching with his son. The ceremony was about to commence when they arrived, the parents staying near the back while the children made their way to the front with the Madrigals.

"Took you long enough," Camilo said as soon as she was standing beside him, while Mateo stood between Dolores and Isabela.

"We almost didn't make it," she whispered back.

He had his tía's hand on his left, so she could squeeze her expectation away, and he moved his right up to Antonia's hand, intertwining their fingers. Her eyes stayed fixed on the front of the room, but he didn't bother to hide how he was looking at the blush that had climbed up her cheeks.

Maybe, he thought, he always thought. Even after almost a year, that was still his answer, there didn't seem to be one more suitable for his situation. Maybe she liked him back, and if she didn't back then, then maybe he had built some of the way on the last months.

All the lights dimmed, as if casita also had the power to control the intensity of each candle, and the two big lights that moved around like the ones on Camilo's room pointed to the end of the hall, to the closed curtains that secluded Antonio from everyone's eyes. When they opened, Toña was pleased to see the vest did fit him, but then realized he wasn't moving at all, not even when the tiles beneath his feet urged him to move.

He stood there in complete silence for at least a minute, even after the clapping that made the teenagers let go of the hold in their hands died out, until finally he lifted up his hand. No one understood what did it mean or what was he asking for, until a clearly abashed Mirabel stepped up and grabbed the offered hand. The confused and even a little offended muttering around her told Antonia that wasn't part of the protocol, she looked at Camilo with a raised eyebrow and his shrug confirmed her suspicions.

She knew her friend well enough to know the villagers stare on her burned more than the bright lights themselves, but her steps were still firm and the hold on Antonio's hand never loosened, because she knew if she got scared, the young boy would crumble. Antonia shot her a soothing wink when they passed by where she was.

The spike of courage Camilo had to initially hold her hand left the moment she had to tear her hand away, so he had to overcome a avalanche of insecurity to reach out for it again. To his surprise, when he did, Antonia welcomed him as if she had been expecting him to make the move, intertwining their fingers back again and clinging to his arm like her parents did.

Two tiny steps at a time, Toñito and Mirabel made their way to the glowing door with the golden doorknob, everyone around was holding their breath, Antonia was so anxious she might as well been a Madrigal. The boy raised his hand to the doorknob after having touched the magical candle, swearing to abuela's vow, and the whole world went silent, there was this fine air of nervousness about history repeating itself.

Upon the contact of his fingers the golden dust duplicated as a wave spreading through the wooden surface, which Antonia could only assume was a good sign. A few more seconds of unaltered silence went by until, out of nowhere, a toucan came flying down and set on his extended arm, squawking at him.

"Uh-huh." Antonio responded to the apparent conversation. "Uh-huh. I understand you." The bird squawked again. "Of course they can come!"

The bird let out the loudest squawk so far and suddenly a flock of other birds came down flying from the roof, while another bunch of animals made their way running through people's legs, a family of chigüiros, a jaguar, even Chapola and her siblings ran over to Antonio.

"¡Eh, negra!"

"¡Chapola!" Both Antonia and Camilo called for her out of instinct, as did the owners of the other hounds.

But all ten hounds stood proudly by Antonio's feet, including the composed Carlota herself, as the revelation of his gift became a golden carving on his door. "We have a new gift!" Alma exclaimed, making the whole town erupt in cheers.

The unveiling of the magical Madrigal blessing was even more bewitching than Antonia had expected, she found herself completely absorbed in it as she cheered with everyone else right before the door to Antonio's room opened and built itself right in front of everyone's eyes.

Inside, the paradise constructed by the chocoan jungle was illuminated by fireflies that swirled around one big mother tree, waterfalls and nests all surrounded the thick trunk, while a big curtain of drizzling water behind it marked the end of the room in displacement for walls. Antonia squeezed her fingers around Camilo's arm, drinking it all in with a face full of wonder that he couldn't help but smile at.

"Mi vida, breathe!" He said grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her softly.

The girl was so entranced by the full blown ecosystem inside she didn't even think of firing back at his mockery, simply laughing absentmindedly as a form of response, which made Camilo's smile bigger.

After Antonio was left safely at his parents' feet for the jaguar, Camilo made sure his friend wasn't so far gone she was at risk of falling over, even asking Nico, who was standing near, to keep an eye on her, before walking with his sister over to where the rest of the family was standing.

It took about twenty minutes of Nico and Camilo talking Antonia back to reality to pull her out of her trance, but it was a replaced by a rush of dazed adrenaline that made her follow Isabela when the girl asked her to dance without thinking twice. The Madrigal boy let out a chuckle at the energetic child like personality the García girl sometimes let out when she didn't have the need to be an adult, before making his way over to the food.

Just like it had happened predominantly on Dolores' and Camilo's ceremony, all the music being played was greatly influenced by the tunes their father had grown up listening, all the tunes that sent the Garcías into a state of ecstasy, for their homeland wasn't very far from the place Félix had been born. That fact had been discovered on Camilo's and Antonia's joint birthday, when they resulted to know by heart all the music that was played on the party.

Camilo was right in the middle of eating an empanada while talking with his tía and señora Pezmuerto, at least an hour and a half into the party, when he felt a hard tug on his arm. "Camilo," he found her with her hair wild on her head, with the trace of some drops of sweat on her forehead aggressively wiped off and her cheeks red because of all the dancing, it looked like she hadn't stayed still even a minute, "dance with me."

Squinting lightly at her, he had the frail impression that she had managed to get her hands on one of the alcoholic drinks they were giving out to the adults. She didn't look exactly drunk, but there was definitely an inebriated flame dancing in the back of her eyes... and even like that she looked beautiful. He followed her to the dance floor after handing his plate to Julieta, who took it with a knowing smile as she watched the two teenagers disappear into the crowd.

They weren't even all the way there when Camilo spun her with a smirk, which was received by a gleaming pair of eyes on a body that started dancing to the loud salsa echoing against the walls in a pace the boy had no issue syncing with. Their feet moved fastly, with the parently taught of skill that made sure they didn't tangle clumsily with each other's feet.

Camilo knotted his arms around her only to then untangle her with gracefulness as she spun on the tips of her feet when he pulled her away with his extended arm. It was almost like they read each other's mind, guessed the other's next move, that all their moves came out just so naturally.

"The house is in danger!" Mirabel's voice of alarm cut through the atmosphere, making everyone's eyes jump on her direction. "The house is in danger!" She repeated when she found herself in front her abuela. "The tiles were falling, and there were cracks everywhere. And the candle almost went out."

The whole room became silent as a feeling of dread settled on top, the quiet predominating the indistinct murmuring of those who are incapable of holding their questions when clearly no one could answer them. "Show me," the matriarch ordered, back on her usual severity.

But on the outside of the room, there was no sight of the destruction that Mirabel had described, all her explaining of the things she claimed she had just seen didn't conceal the fact that all the tiles were in their place, there were no cracks in the walls and the candle was a strong as ever. "Maybe she drank the same thing you did?" Camilo whispered, earning a nudge from Antonia, whose worry had sobered her up.

"There is nothing wrong with la casa Madrigal," Alma exclaimed as soon as she turned to face all the guests, "the magic is strong, and so are the drinks." Everyone laughed at the joke, but the teenagers' eyes were fixed on the defeated look of Mirabel. "Please music!"

Joe Arroyo's music came back to life on the instruments of the band when the two started making their way down the stairs to where Mirabel was standing, but Julieta stopped them, letting them know that she would go to comfort her daughter. Finally, they obliged and came back to the room, but they couldn't flow back into the party, all they could think about were Mirabel's words.

If the candle was to ever go out, he would feel something, wouldn't he? A tingle that told him of the expiration of his power. Had he maybe been too entranced dancing with Antonia to feel anything at all? It wouldn't be the first time something of the sort happened, his four loyal friends never failed to let him know when he was too absorbed in the sight of her to notice the world falling apart.

He kept thinking about it a few hours later, when the party ended ceremoniously at midnight, marking the end of Antonio's birthday, and he walked the Garcías back to their house, mainly because Carlos was more drunk than he admitted and Anastasia wasn't all that sober herself. He could feel Antonia's embarrassment as he helped her take her parents up to their bedroom, but assured her that it was okay as they walked back to the door.

"Will you tell Mirabel I tried to say goodbye but she had already gone to sleep?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

He had to go, he knew it, if it would've been anyone else, he would have left already, but for some reason he just stood there, looking at her.

"What?" She asked rather amused by his staring. "Are you waiting for a goodnight kiss?"

The words left his mouth before he had a chance to think them twice. "Would you give it to me?"

Antonia stood there for a couple seconds, struck by his response, but in the end she smirked and brought her lips to his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth.

taglist: @mcueveryday @sylum @solikeapparently @7seabear7 @zzokks @ranzieboo @im-sidney @missgorldafirst @scarletfry37 @xiaos-wife @astras-world

[mooniefics]

— personal punishment

pairing : nanami kento / fem reader

word count : 1.8k

tags : pnp, degradation, authority kink, office sex, semi-public sex, boss / secretary, nanami literally being the sexiest man to ever live and breathe

warnings : nsfw, power imbalance

summary : He couldn't expect you to be perfect—but he could definitely expect you to pay for each imperfection in more ways than one.

notes : thank u so much to @suna-reversed for hosting the incredibly creative jujutsuhub collab and allowing me to participate !! much love (୨୧•͈ᴗ•͈)◞*♡

you couldn't exactly say you weren't proud of your performance today.

for one, you'd come into the office late, knowing that your penalties would be formally waived by your boss but well aware that you would have to face his own personal punishment. it was just your luck that this very day was the most busy the office had been all month, leaving you running papers back and forth from your boss' office for hours, nearly tripping over your own heels three times too many before you even reached your lunch break, praying that you weren't screwing anything else up in your frantic rush.

but before you could even think about escaping the confines of the office building to make up for your missed breakfast at a cafe nearby, your boss was already calling back into his office. you already knew exactly why he was requesting your presence, fear and anticipation immediately tangling into a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. but still you went, obediently as you always did, keeping your head low as you passed your coworkers in the hall.

your fate had been sealed the moment you made a mistake, the same outcome that had been repeating for months now each time you made an error, whether it was as small as not taking the trash out from the waste bin when it was too full for his liking to something as grievous as spilling his morning coffee all over one of his pristine white button-ups. for any and all errors, you were certain to face this punishment.

the position you were in wasn't unfamiliar, bent over nanami's desk, pencil skirt hiked all the way up to your waist with your underwear around your knees, completely at the mercy of the man caging you in with his body from behind.

"if you keep making all that noise, you're going to end up getting us both fired." he growled, voice low in your ear, one hand still pressed firmly over the center of your back, forcing your chest down onto his desk. the other was occupied between your legs, two thick fingers plunging mercilessly into your needy cunt as you struggled to hold in every whimper and moan each snap of his wrist drew from the back of your throat.

"'m s-sorry, s-sir..!" you barely managed to breathe out, nails beginning to scrape at the edge of the wooden tabletop, teeth digging almost painfully into your bottom lip.

"'sorry' doesn't even begin to fix everything you've fucked up today," his stern tone persisted, ribs aching between the pressure of the heel of his palm and the hard desk, "you know just how much stress i've been under and yet you went out of your way to make it worse."

"no, n-not that..! p-promise!" you whimpered, breath coming in pants, struggling to not rock back into his hand with the knowledge that he'd stop entirely if he noticed you doing it.

you had no choice but to keep your eyes trained on the door in front of you, thighs trembling with anticipation, muted gasps and mewls managing to find their way out into the open air despite your efforts. you knew he didn't mind the noise as long as you were making a conscious effort to keep quiet, only loud enough for him to have the pleasure of hearing, only expressing the pitiful broken attempts at showing remorse that seemed to arouse him to no end.

he curled his fingers to rub at spot inside you that made your knees weak, barely chuckling when you writhed under him. "enjoying your punishment like this... you're just a pathetic slut. That's all you'll ever be, isn't that right?"

Your head hung low as you came over his fingers, shuddering, biting firmly at the inside of your cheeks to hold back the whine threatening to escape your heaving chest. you knew you should be ashamed to be so excited in the face of his cruelty, but when it was his voice and hands—discipling you harshly but still paying such good attention to you and your body—you couldn't help yourself.

before you had enough time to begin catching your breath, you could already hear the clinking of his belt buckle as he pulled it free from the belt loops of his pants, the warmth of naked skin as the length of his cock met the back of your thighs, already hard. the hand resting at your back slid up to rest at the base of your neck, fingers working their way into your hair to firmly grasp, holding you still while he eased himself between your thighs.

"please, s-sir.." The words spilled out of you before you could even think to maintain your obedient silence, earning a tug at your hair harsh enough to jerk your head back, arching your body further.

"snd who are you to be making any demands?" He muttered scornfully, the head of his cock now rubbing directly over your dripping pussy, making no effort to do anything more than painstakingly tease.

"i'm not, i j-just—" You sucked in a quick breath as you felt a sharp sting over your ass, certain there was a reddening welt where his hand had just struck it, "i pr-promise i'll be better..."

"and how can I be certain that you actually will? you say the same thing every damn time, and you still have yet to show me any improvement."

your eyes watered as you searched for a proper response, stammering over your words for just a moment too long—long enough to reignite the anger you'd found a momentary mercy from. you just barely pressed your hand over your mouth in time to muffle your own cry as he slammed himself inside of you, the desk shifting across the ground with a harsh squeak, insides struggling to accommodate his size all at once. he found a quick, ruthless rhythm of thrusting almost immediately, paying your quick gasps and pitiful whimpers no mind, almost painfully deep.

"is this is really the only thing you're good for?" he huffed, groaning lowly despite his apparent ire, "just taking cock and nothing else?"

"n-no!" you protested, barely able to hold your voice steady enough to respond, swallowing down each hiccuped breath interrupting your words, "this is the l-last time, i swear..! p-please sir, please—"

he shushed you harshly before you could continue, large hand rubbing over the aching flesh he'd previously slapped in a silent threat to repeat the action. you wouldn't be entirely opposed to feeling his large hand strike you again and again, leaving prints of red across your skin that wouldn't fade until hours after you'd left the office for the night, but you knew that you still had the entire second half of your day ahead of you to pretend as if he hadn't completely ruined you just meters away from the rest of his hardworking employees.

"at this point, i might as well just be paying to fuck you." he muttered callously, the speed of his hips slowing the slightest bit, each thrust still hitting deep enough for you to feel in your stomach, "then what does that make you, hm? a prostitute? my personal little plaything.."

you strained to vigorously shake your head side to side, fingers aching from how tightly they were clenching around the edge of the desk, your own arousal trailing down between your trembling thighs, hot tears dribbling down your flushed cheeks. you should've felt more inclined to deny his assertion, to prove yourself to be more than just a toy for him to used whenever he desired, when he needed to take out the pent up frustration he saved for your errors and your errors only—but you knew in the back of your mind that you were perfectly content with your position, as immorally lucrative as it was. you would embarrass yourself everyday for the rest of your career if it meant you could experience this at least once more.

"sorry, s-sorry..! oh fuck, sir, 'm so sorry!" the apologies you knew he loved so much spilled from your lips in a pathetic, broken moan, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as you held out for a few more mind-numbing moments before cumming around his thick cock.

you barely registered his hand grasping your hair painfully tight as he grunted a few low curses beside your ear, shakily exhaling a sigh when he emptied himself inside you, finally letting you rest back against the hard surface of his desk while you both caught your breath. it was all over far too soon, the intense intimacy that never lasted longer than the half-hour of your lunch break, even though you were sure he could steal you away for far longer without anyone daring to question him.

you wiped at your damp under-eyes with quivering hands, trying to not further disturb your already ruined mascara, swallowing down a whimper when pulled himself out of you and tugged your underwear back into place, readjusting your skirt for you before moving away from your body entirely.

he had already tidied up his own clothes by the time you pushed yourself to stand, that familiar expression of cool indifference having already resettled onto his handsome features. he barely ever let you see his face when he was disciplining you, always making sure you were facing away from him, or that you couldn't lift your head enough to get a good look at his face. it made it all feel so impersonal, inspired something that felt like sadness in the back of your mind, despite how you tried to remind yourself that what you had wasn't true intimacy, and that he could really replace you any day if he felt so inclined to do so.

"go clean up in the bathroom." he said without looking at you, straightening his tie back into place and checking the time on his watch, "you will need to take a call from a new client soon, and it is imperative that you give them the perfect first impression of our company. i expect you to be back here within the next ten minutes." his brow furrowed, the look of someone who'd just thought of something unpleasant flashing across his features when he finally met your gaze. "no more exceptions today."

"yes, sir." you replied obediently, voice hoarse, quickly turning away before the weight of a sudden sadness could show, advancing towards his door as briskly as your state allowed you to. you didn't look back on your way out, even though you so desperately wanted to, maybe deliver a genuine apology now that you knew he was genuinely irritated with you.

but you didn't, and the day continued as it always did, phone calls and document filing keeping you occupied for the rest of your shift, not receiving another word from your boss regarding anything. you tried not to take it personally when he didn't bid you farewell before leaving the building, reminding yourself that it was most likely just the pressure of a busy quarter, cursing yourself for screwing things up and enjoying your momentary bliss before the true consequence of genuine disappointment from nanami anchored you back to the somber reality of your situation.

it was foolish of you to think you'd be anything more than a secretary in his eyes.

[kaysayshey]

off paper || e. kirishima

This is a work inspired by a struggle that a lot of those suffering with mental illness experience, particularly those with depression and bipolar disorder; however, it can be applied to a lot of mood-altering medications that cause sexual dysfunction. While medication is a life changing and stabilizing aspect of many lives, it doesn't come without its cons. I think Kirishima would be incredibly understanding in this situation. Please keep in mind that bipolar disorder presents in many ways. There is no one-size-fits-all in mental health treatment or in its subsequent treatment. I wanted to write a bit about the side effects of SSRI medications.

Songs that I listened to while writing include:

Serendipity by BTS' Jimin

Bumper Cars by Alex and Sierra

That Kind of Love by MAX

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, NSFW (no smut, however this work contains sexual topics), mention of prescription drugs, bipolar disorder, minors DNI.

On paper, Kirishima Eijirou was perfect. An impressive sidekick working underneath Fatgum, his cheery disposition more than capable of reassuring even the most terrified of civilians. A hard-hitting, defensive quirk paired with determination unlike anything you'd ever seen. Easy-going enough to work with the difficult heroes - and by difficult, everyone meant Dynamight. Intelligent, reliable, and just the right amount of competitive.

Off paper, he was even better. Hell, the moment he'd asked you out, you'd almost done a double-take. Was he sure? Kirishima could date, well, anyone. However, you'd blurted out 'yes' before your brain had time to catch up, even more surprised at the gorgeous pink that graced the tips of his ears.

And the date went wonderfully. Were you expecting anything different? He was a magnet, and you were willing to be the refrigerator he stuck to - at least, for as long as he wanted. How he managed to remember what flavor of milk tea and boba you preferred, following it up with a quick delivery while working twelves at the agency, was beyond you. Good morning texts wishing you an easy day of your own hero work, good night texts hoping that your dreams were "sweeter than you." The moment a bouquet of roses was sent to your office, you had to admit it.

You were embarrassingly attracted to Kirishima Eijirou.

Not that he minded, no. If anything, he returned the feeling tenfold. After the first date came a string of others before finally labeling it as a relationship. Movie nights, walks through the park, chaste kisses interspersed by giggles as you both laughed at whatever came to mind. The quick meetings between your lips turned into full-on sessions that left your knees weak. Being with Kirishima was easy in a way that nothing else had been.

But let's face it. Working as a full-time hero with bipolar disorder made life, well, tough. A pharmaceutical cocktail and therapy helped, turning what was the disaster of your life into a manageable mess. Episodes were few and far between, the prickling anxiety was quelled by coping techniques and medication when necessary. The days spent in a daze of your own "self-medicating" were long gone, thank whatever higher power was out there. No, life was on the upswing for you in pretty much every aspect of the phrase.

Except for your sex life.

And no, that wasn't to say that Kirishima was doing anything wrong. To be quite honest, he was doing every just right. Kissing the places you loved most, calloused hands lingering deliciously over your skin. A voice like honey whispering in your ear, beautiful moans of how gorgeous you were, how he absolutely adored you. Saying that it left you with weak, knocking knees was an understatement. He was an emotional hurricane, sending butterflies through your stomach as he showered you with praise and carefully placed lips.

Other than a complete lack of climaxing, it was amazing.

You knew this was a possibility once you had started taking medications. A loss of libido was one thing, but being unable to finish was starting to wear on you. Before you could stop yourself, you were doing the unthinkable: faking orgasms.

After all, who wants to spend close to an hour between someone's thighs just to be met with frustrated sighs and potentially awkward conversations? No, Kirishima didn't need to spend so much time on your pleasure, not when there was a high probability that you wouldn't finish at all. As long as the moans weren't straight out of a low-budget porno overly exaggerated, you figured you'd get away with it.

Getting away with it turned out to be the least of your issues. The struggle was real. Outside of the sweetest lovemaking with Kirishima, you desperately tried every trick in the book to reach an orgasm on your own. Something. Anything. You were beginning to feel pent-up, needy. The money spent on toys was starting to reach an uncomfortably high number. Time was wasted and followed up by flopping onto the bed in frustration. No amount of lube, porn, or fantasy was helping. Once you hit the hour mark, you basically gave up.

And you were now pacing the hallways of your apartment, irrational tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Why did it matter? Orgasming was not the end all, be all of life. But the memory of before the medications, the euphoric bliss that would force your back from the mattress, that memory reared its head more often than you cared to admit. God damn it, you just wanted to feel the shudders, the rush of pleasure surging through your body, insatiable heat quenched. And you wanted to stop lying to him. The tears rimming your lash line made their arrival known, long tracks staining your cheeks.

This is, of course, when Kirishima decides to knock on your door. After all, you had planned to have a comfortable night in, a delightful line up of rom-coms at your disposal. Movies that you now wanted to throw out the nearest window. Why, why did you have to try again? He deserved so much more than a broken partner, a partner who would never be able to match him. Someone who could crash at the slightest struggle, who broke when their insecurities were brought to life.

Another set of knocks. Time to face the music.

As you gently opened the door, the drop in Kirishima's face was visible as he took in your state. Where a bright grin had been settled now featured lips drawn into a tight, worried line. After all, you did everything in your power to keep him in the dark in regards to your mental illness. Not necessarily your smartest move, in retrospect. Hindsight, you know?

The moment the door clicked behind him, Kirishima was gathering you in his arms, a large hand gently stroking the back of your head. A kiss to your temple, his forehead pressing against your hairline. Deep breaths weren't helping you at this point. Because regardless of how frustrated you were, Kirishima was safety, the warmth of his embrace a haven for you to let out the sobs that were wracking through your body.

And as the tears fell, darkening his gray tee shirt, Kirishima ran his hands up and down your back, the comforting heat of his body providing temporary relief. After moments of crying, you pressed your head against his chest, eyes glued to the linoleum floor beneath you.

A thick finger and thumb tenderly met your chin, slowly lifting your face to meet his eyes. Those usually warm red irises were dark with worry, the pad of his thumb running circles over and over against your skin. Another reminder of just how good he was. No man had ever made you feel as desired or important as Kirishima.

"Baby, what happened?" he murmured, still caressing your face so gingerly that it brought the threat of more tears.

"It's nothing, nothing important," came your quick response, avoiding any lingering eye contact. It wasn't that important. Sexual gratification came second to emotional connection, and you had that firmly in your grasp with Eijirou. Why would you risk losing someone like that?

His eyebrow narrowed at your words, and he kept your face cradled in his hands. "Please tell me, baby. I want to help."

God, that expression of pure concern. Like you were everything to him, like your hurt was his hurt. It was in that moment you knew: you couldn't keep lying to him. Whether it meant he'd leave for someone else, someone perfectly, indescribably normal; that didn't matter. If anyone deserved a picture-perfect romance, it was Kirishima.

Eijirou, I-" Your voice broke from the nerves, unable to hold his unflinching gaze. How could someone be so earnest? He nodded, those same reassuring circles urging you to speak.

"I think you deserve someone better."

He looked like you'd honest to goodness slapped him. So many emotions flashed over his usually cheerful face that it scared you. Oh, god, this wasn't what you wanted to do, but how could you not? No one wanted someone like you. Once he knew, he'd leave. Better to push him away first and just let it end now before-

"What are you talking about? Baby. I don't want anyone else. I want you." His words came out stammered, tripping over his tongue and falling into the otherwise quiet apartment. Kirishima shook his head slowly, searching your face for some form of reassurance that this wasn't what you wanted. That you didn't want him.

"I don't know why. I just, I'm too much. You'll end up getting frustrated with me and I just, I just can't take that kind of heartbreak."

"Too much? You're never too much, what are you talking about?"

The words fell before you could stop them, faster than should be discernible to the human ear. But if there was anything Eijirou was, it was attentive.

"My medicine is driving me crazy, and I know without it I'll go over the edge again. But I want to feel normal, Eiji. I can't handle feeling like I'm not normal." And it was true. Sex was so innately human, and knowing that there was a chance that you'd never be able to gain that ultimate satisfaction was driving you mad. Was this just an overreaction from a brain exhausted from constantly fighting itself, or was this a logical, albeit emotionally charged, reaction?

"Your medicine?"

There it was. What you wanted to avoid mentioning. Sure, it wasn't fair to keep it from him. But let's be honest, you'd been expecting this to end after the first few months. And now? Now you were shaking in his arms, knowing this confession would be the end of the dreamy love you'd been experiencing.

"My medicine for uh... for my, um. I have bipolar disorder. It's why I can't work on Thursdays, too. I have to go to therapy. I know I should've told you from the beginning but I just, you know, I really, really like you, and I don't-"

One finger met your lips followed by soothing shushes from his own. As if the world's weight had been lifted from his capable shoulders, Kirishima let out a heaving sigh of relief. The arm around your waist pulled you closer, his large hand splaying comfortably against your back.

"I'm not going anywhere. I just want you to be okay. What can I do for you?"

And that left you tearfully admitting it all. Longing for the physicality that would bring you closer together, the bliss of coming undone at your partner's hands. Disgust when you listened to your friends' bragging of delicious, gratifying one-night stands. Aching heat desperate to be relieved by your man only to be left at the edge, the warmth still tingling through your body. How you felt caught halfway between "normal" and "crazy" even with the drugs. And Kirishima nodded, hanging on every word.

"I'm glad you told me," he began, slowly trailing his fingertips up and down your back. "If I had known, I would've worked ten times harder. Will you let me make you feel good, honey? Please?"

How did those few sentences send you into another fit of tears? Clutching the lightweight fabric of his shirt and apologizing for the damp stains, you nuzzled against his chest in embarrassment. But he continued his motions, adept fingers working at your tense muscles.

That night, he gave you everything you wanted and more, eager to please you in a way he never had. Eyes focused, sweet nothings spilling from his lips, tender hands and featherlight kisses. Teasing and romance and dedication over hours, something you'd never experienced before.

On paper, Kirishima was perfect. Off paper, he was even more. And he fulfilled his promise to you, "I love you" slipping from his lips when you finally reached your euphoria.

"I love you too, Eijirou."

"I'll always love you more."

[popcornbutterflymedia]

it’s friday, the morning of the sixth episode in the series as i am once again, winging this. i might be winging on purpose, leaving the week’s episode to stew in my brain and take hold of my heart before i throw words at the screen, and hope for the best. it’s always from memory, and it’s always personal. it will always follow where my heart is that week.

these days, i find myself asking for a love story between two broken people, people for whom love will be found homeless for whatever harsh, real world reasons as monstrous as insecurity and as debilitating as fear. for all the respite, all the hope that kilig inspires, it’s our lover’s weaknesses that make the love story this tells grounded, accessible, and true.

call them by their names.

the budding friendship between max and deib is like land uncharted, newly discovered that everyone in benison has made a home in. that is everyone but aimee. it’s easy to point to the girl and brand her a villain, possibly bigger than elle is, but she has her reasons. her ways may be inexcusable, but not her pain. never her pain. nothing is as tragic as dashed hopes. granted the assumptions that gave life to her hope is her responsibility alone, especially when the other party is inebriated, it still hurts to be considered a stranger you’ve allowed yourself to be intimate with. aimee’s shame is valid. elle, spitefully introducing her friend to deib is one of the most powerful moments of this series thus far. with this week’s preview in mind, knowing what she is to do, or making an educated guess, at least, understanding her motivations, having compassion for her plight is in no way condoning hurting others. there will always be a line to cross. just knowing that everyone has origin stories, softens the blow, i suppose.

more on names and new chapters: part of deciding to change is giving up names, and monickers that were used as insults, just like ysay was asked to do. project blocked is no more, max is no longer taguro, just as deib is no longer sensui.

with the 'peace treaty' in benison in effect it has set the stage for friendship, fascination, or the possibility of something more. max and deib without their walls are my favorite max and deib ever. every person, actually, who is brave enough to break down their own walls becomes more beautiful. while I still can't pinpoint what it is about donny and belle, the kilig moments in this episode make me understand what it is about them. in this single gap donny and belle were able to display a variety of kilig and an entire spectrum of love.

the library scene was ripe with delicious tension, I felt like their insides were being twisted into knots and i did not mind it one bit. their voices, his low, and hers, breathy and tentative made them more mature than they are, and I bask in it. the two of them eye to eye taking each other in was magnetic. we are taking in, them taking each other in.

the pe/gymnasium scene was the most natural I've seen of donny and belle up to that point. the ease with which they lived that moment is this pair's selling point. it's what I'll be excited to watch with I catch them on the big screen. if they keep that up.

the build up of the conflict between max and deib at the event preparation did not dampen whatever romanric tension there was between them when max conveniently tripped and fell on the boy. the tension of the conflict added to the romantic tension. i may have made sounds and teared up a bit.

'sigurado's' duet version is a beauty in itself. in the context of max and deib's story, it has become sort of a showtune. the song takes on an entirely different, more important meaning. it's a much needed reassurance that come what may max and deib will eventually find their way to each other. also, file this under: one of donny and belle's 'no acting acting moments, which I expect from belle, but still surprise when it's from donny. that was genuine, and beautiful.

the rest of the kids had their sweet moments, which were all made lovelier by the absence of dialogue. a couple of things: i miss patrick quite a lot. that kid's special. vivoree is strong enough to be on her own, I don't mind finding a partner for her, though. I would say she's too talented not to be a star, but considering where she is right now, i believe she's talented enough you could put her anywhere and she would shine. probably unrelated to the show but i love how her mind works.

the episode title is released days after the actual episode, so the turn in this one shouldn't have surprised as much as it did. I was having too much fun with the kilig, i may have forgotten the title of the episode. the twist, then shocked.

the conflict came out of left field all i could do is charge the sudden outburst to the intimacy between max and deib getting a little to real for comfort for both of them. at this point, I only completely understood deib's shift, making max believe that telling the girl he likes her was a joke, stems from his own feelings being an inconvenience to his family. i have this feeling he is used to exist according to everyone else's need for him. which is sad, and painful.

the episode ended on a confusing, stomach churning, but necessary note.

until the next episode's post!

[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

The enemy leader tells the sargent S/O, "Join me. Accept, and I'll spare you. Refuse, and I'll kill everyone you love." Her time with her partner has made her grow emotional again (she's not as cold as she is meant to be), and she quickly accepts. Now, she must kill monsters; that is, follow his orders. During an attack, she encounters her partner after years of being away (due to war), and is told to kill him — or she'll die in the spot by the leader. • For UT/UF!Sans, US!Papyrus and UT!Undyne?

{ Your ask made me think about an episode of Black Mirror, that series is very interesting and omg-! I thought about that episode called Men against fire where the soldiers have a chip that made them see persons in different ways but maybe I should not do spoilers. Now I want to see Black Mirror again. I should take some inspiration from that episode so we don’t blame the poor Chara every time these things happen

The angst knocks on your door… }

〷 Sansy 〷

The time passed inexorable and Sans has already lost all his hope because you did not come back. The weeks became months and the months were turned to years. No traces of you. Anywhere. At the beginning, he received a letter from you every weeks and he was so glad to read about your adventures like you were by his side and you seemed fine there despite it was a hard place. You were still the fantastic person of every day, you were just far away so he kept living his life made by those few letters you sent.After a year, the things started to change and you stopped to send letters to him, Sans thought it was a mistake and you were too busy since there were always missions and duties. He could not expect you always had time for him. He was worried anyway because he needed an explication. He had to know if you were safe and alive!As the second year passed without he had any news about you, Sans was becoming duller and angrier because it was impossible. No letters nor a call, not even during the holidays. It seemed you were dead so he did not know what to think about it. He tried so many times to contact your boss for having some information about your state but nobody answered and the phone lines were interrupted. The poor skeleton jumped to the conclusion that you were death and something horrible happened to your platoon since he could not contact nobody of them. It was too strange and no media was talking about it so maybe there was some kind of mysterious plot behind it even if Sans was not the kind of person who believed in this stuff.The day you came back home, it was a dark night and he did not expect your visit since he thought you were on the other side right now. Because of his insomnia, he was awake so he heard some noises coming from the front door. He teleported himself there for checking if a thief invaded his house. He was completely shocked the moment he saw you in the doorway holding a gun and your eyes were cold and distant like you were somewhere else. He had his guard up anyway because he could not know what you became after the war. He knew wars generated true monsters. Then, with your low and tired voice, you explained to him that you missed him so much and you were sorry that you had not called him all these long years. You had been captured by your enemy and forced to follow their orders, this was the reason why you were unable to contact Sans. You confessed to him your boss’ plans that you should have killed Sans because he was a monster but you wanted nothing to have with this horrible duty and you said that your boss would have killed you anyway. You raised your hand that was holding the gun, pointing it to your head and then you shot yourself.Tears of sorrow crossed your face while you were saying “I love you” to Sans for the last time before the void welcomed you in the final resting.

〷 Undyne 〷

She believed so much in you and she was sure you would have come back home soon. You were a pro in your profession so there were no doubts about your victory but maybe she was too hopeful. Undyne could not imagine you were by the enemy’s side now since you have always followed your values and principles, and she would have chosen to die instead of join the wrong path. The years passed and you stopped to call Undyne so the monster fish was truly worried. She was going to take the first flight to the place where you were because she missed you so much and she was afraid something horrible happened to you since it was like you were disappeared and she has not received any call from your boss about your death and it was too strange. Luckily, their friends stopped her and Papyrus and Alphys stood by her side all this time comforting and helping her. Undyne has never been so sad and powerless in all her life and it was a feeling she hated so much. She wanted to help you but you were so far away in a place she could not reach.After some while of desperation, you came back home mutated and Undyne perceived a malefic aura in her house. You were there, in front of her, with two blanked eyes and an evil grin on your face. It was too unnatural and she could have never imagined the war could change you so much, but it was possible since wars made people doing the worst atrocities and you had lost all your humanity. Undyne was ready to fight you with tears in her eyes. Actually, your enemy brainwashed you with some of their weapon that could control human’s minds. You became a sort of human weapon even if you were unconscious and you needed help. The great warrior she was understood that you were in danger and you were not yourself anymore. She had to help you. Undyne called your name asking for an explication. She said how she loved you and she waited for you all these years. She hit you so hard that you were unable to fight back because something in you was happened. Your heart felt a warmth. She was the most determinate monster and it was weird since they had no determination but it was running through her veins like blood. She would have never given up on you. Never. All her effort was awarded because you started to cry, screaming like crazy. You said you were so sorry and you did not mean to attack her and you did not recall anything about your experience in the enemy’s base. You only knew they kidnapped you and nothing more. Anyway, she was ready to protect you with her life if it was necessary from all those persons that wanted to hurt you. 

〷 Reddy 〷

All these last years without you have been atrocious for Sans and he lost all his hope to see you again. The path you chose was awful and scary even if you were an expert and you fought in your past so you were not a newbie. He believed in you and in your capacities but he did not believe and trust the world that was too corrupted and wicked.The months passed and he lost every traces of you because you did not answer to his letters and calls so he thought about the worst. He was right because the worst happened to you. The enemies captured you and now you were one of their puppets since they blakmailed you telling they would have killed your family if you wouldn’t have joined their army. They were anti-monsters so they could not tolerate one of their solders was with a monster. They ordered you to kill Sans and all of them even if this thing had no sense since they promised you to do the same thing if you denied their propose. Sans, being the suspicious skeleton he was, understood something bad happened to you so he investigated since he knew so many persons and they were just like his spies. He found out your boss plan and that you were in danger. You could imagine he was total furious and he was ready to take his revenge towards that shit man and he did not care if they were million men or just one. Than man had to pay for his sins!

〷 Stretch 〷

His soul was serious injured because he could not believe you decided to choose the path of war. Papyrus was a little concerned about it because he hated wars so much and he wanted you to stay by his side safe and sound. He knew war did not bring beautiful things and he still thought about the worst.Then, when you started to ignore all his calls and letters, he understood it was over and you forgot about him as if he was nothing but an old toy. He was so disappointed and some time he drunk to forget all his pains because he loved you so much, the feelings he had for you were real and pure but you ruined everything when you decided to join the army. The day you showed yourself at his house, he was very angry because you did not call him or warned him about your return. You were acting like you did not care about his feelings and maybe it was true. You looked at him with a pair of eyes he did not recognize as yours. He was truly confused and depressed and you were too insensitive.Then, you explained to him that you joined the enemy because they promised to you glory and fame and you started insulting his race like you were a sort of racist and Papyrus thought you became crazy or something. You turned into an assassin and it was not you anymore. He was shocked that child came back and it took possession of you. You explained there was no kid and you were yourself. You were not a puppet or manipulated by someone even if it was not true since your enemy did something to you. They turned you into a cold warrior ready to kill without any kind of guilt or regret.Since you were tired to speak, you attacked him and Papyrus defended himself launching his mortal bone attacks. The delusion he felt was incalculable and he cried tears of pain while the two of you were fighting. At the end, he had no mercy for you and he just wanted a reset after this but he understood too late there would have been no reset and you were not controlled by the evil child. Actually, Papyrus killed you since he was too mad like he was blinded by all those negative feelings. Then, he started to cry like a baby when he realized what he did. Then, he noticed the pendant you wore that contained an old photo of you and Papyrus and it was one of your greatest memories. It meant that you still cared about him and you were not yourself so he did a mistake and now he wanted to take his revenge over the ones who manipulated you.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT FILTER

VCs ask that you shouldn't answer: Who else are you talking to? For I see a man must either resolve to put out nothing new or become a slave, and there was no good way to do it well, then the most successful ones. The Model T didn't have all the features previous cars did. Whatever you make, you will inevitably tend to put them out of business; they feel obliged by various state laws to include boilerplate about why their spam is not a problem. Subject line and doesn't have a probability for Subject free! The spammers are businessmen. For example, about 95% of current spam includes the url of a site they want you to visit. I can usually catch them. False positives yielded by statistical filters turn out to be an email from a founder that helped me understand something important: why it's safe for startup founders to be nice people. Content-based spam filtering becomes a serious obstacle, the spammers will actually stop sending it. It was not till we ourselves raised money that I understood why. Just ask anyone who uses them.

The reason is that between your ability to delude yourself and the wildly unstable nature of the system you're dealing with, things probably either already are or could easily become much worse than they seem. This works better for some startups than others. But consulting is far from free money. Raising money is the second hardest part of starting a startup.1 The curious thing is, this elixir is freely available to any other company. And don't feel bad if you haven't succeeded yet.2 We constantly have to make a living, and it's hard to predict, till you try, how long it will take you through everything you need to do.3 The remaining 5% want you to call a phone number, reply by email or to a US mail address, or in a few cases to buy a certain stock. For millennia that was the canonical example of a job someone had to do it for free, and yet we can profit by helping them, because with our help they could make money.4

And since a successful startup on behaving like a nonprofit to people who don't have money? It's that startups will underestimate the difficulty of raising money destroy your morale, it will rot your brain.5 That idea is not exactly novel.6 I was about 9 or 10, my father told me I could be whatever I wanted when I grew up in the noise, statistically. One possibility is that this custom reflects the way investors like to collude when they can help a startup, and I'll be rich. This is an area where there's great room for improvement. Sometimes jumping from one sort of work I'd prefer? Y Combinator don't generally have much money, and work on what you want to stop getting spam. And yet in the mid twentieth century servants practically disappeared in rich countries, and these tend to be exactly the ones you'd want to take the two-job route: to work at something for a while at least, if they are the actual registrar for it. Prestige is just fossilized inspiration. The custom of a startup needing a fixed amount you need to make it prestigious. So unless you're fairly sure what you want to do when they're 12, and just glide along as if they got the answer to some math question before the other kids.

But liking the idea of the corporate ladder was still very much alive. Because they're good guys and they're trying to produce research, and only things that are new count as research. And since a successful startup on behaving like a nonprofit to people who don't have money?7 You need some kind of job. Another project I heard about this work I was a kid I was firmly in the camp of bad. If your eight year old son decides to climb a tall tree, or your daughter gets pregnant, you'll have terrible problems with procrastination. The domed cities and flying cars we expected have failed to materialize. VCs don't expect you to answer the first question.

It just made me spend several minutes telling you how great they are. They're problems! In fact, what makes the preceding paragraph true is that most readers won't believe it—at least to the extent of acting on it. Maybe the only answer is a central list of domains advertised in spams. Tip: avoid any field whose practitioners say this. You can filter those based just on the content because the headers are innocent and they're careful about the words they use. There may be room for tuning here, but as the corpus grows such tuning will happen automatically anyway. I understood why.8 When new mail arrives, it is exciting to them. Grad school is the other end of the spectrum from a coding job at a big company.

A lot of people: that you could get smarter programmers to work on what you want to help them. And that is dangerous for so many reasons. The techniques for building integrated circuits spread rapidly to other countries. What made this clear to me was having an idea I didn't want to start a startup now, because the economy is so bad is making the same mistake as the people who thought during the Bubble all I have to do is remove the marble that isn't part of it. In fact, it's just as well to make the headers look innocent, but my motives are purely selfish.9 01 tcl 0.10 The most effective approach seems to be an accident. The Bayesian approach assigns an actual probability. If new ideas arise like doodles, this would explain why you have to try to get into a good college, from which one would be drafted into some organization and then rise to positions of gradually increasing responsibility. I didn't want to start a startup. A Plan for Spam filter wouldn't have caught it. It was from someone in Egypt and written in all uppercase.

Most people have characteristic ways of doodling. That tends to produce deadlocks. A company that needed to build a factory or hire 50 people obviously needed to raise a large round and risk losing the investors you already have enough funding, that reduces to: close them now or write them off. Use the data to weight your strategy. And since a successful startup out of curing an unfashionable but deadly disease like malaria? I was talking about how investors are reluctant to put money into startups in bad markets, even though that's the time they reach an age to think about. Imagine if people in 1700 saw their lives the way we'd see them. A url that led to a redirect would of course be especially suspicious.

It describes the work I've done to improve the performance of their algorithm, let alone of Bayesian spam filtering in general. But I don't think the bank manager really did. Acquirers too, while we're at it. They may have felt they were forced to do this startup with or without them. When I heard about after the Slashdot article was Bill Yerazunis' CRM114. The response rate for spam-of-the-future must be low, or everyone would be doing it and it will take some effort to make that look neutral. I've been able to achieve filtering rates that approach CRM114's. 9999 if they occur between two digits. It becomes: let's try making a web-based spreadsheet? Be independent. Linus and his students at Liege were among the more tenacious critics.

Notes

Part of the Daddy Model and reality is the most common recipe but not the bawdy plays acted over on the parental dole for life in general we've done ok at fundraising is so hard on the critical path that they only even consider great people to endure hardships, but had a juicy bug to find out why investors who turned them down because investors don't like. This was certainly true in fields that have little do with the melon seed model is more important than the actual lawsuits rarely happen.

VCs seem to have been the losing side in debates about software design.

Bankers continued to dress in jeans and a few months later. Abstract-sounding language. 17.

So instead of hiring them.

Users dislike their new operating system so much better to read this essay will say this is to create a silicon valley out of fashion in 100 years.

Patrick Collison wrote At some point, there was a kid, this is also a second factor: startup founders are in set theory, or magazines. An hour old is not whether it's good, but that's what you're doing.

I hadn't had much success in doing something that was killed partly by its overdone launch. Digg is Slashdot with voting instead of blacklist.

Most employee agreements say that intelligence doesn't matter in startups is very hard to predict precisely what would happen to their situation. People and The Old Way.

If a bunch of adults had been with us if the president faced unscripted questions by giving a press conference. It does at least should make the fund by succeeding spectacularly.

That's why startups always pay equity rather than trying to upgrade an existing investor, lest that set an impossibly high target when raising additional money. To talk to, so presumably will the rate of improvement is more efficient: the source of the tube. But it's a net win to include things in shows that they were regarded as 'just' even after the first abstract painters were trained to paint from life using the same people the shareholders instead of blacklist.

Thanks to Robert Morris, Dan Siroker, Kevin Hale, Geoff Ralston, Paul Buchheit, Reid Hoffman, and Adora Cheung for the lulz.