#granted some people are at the low end of the range and are completely fine! bodies are weird

[draconicace]

i wish i could talk about b12 deficiency and how it's underdiagnosed without sounding like a vitamin shill

[bastillewolf]

Kinda Sketchy (II)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Request: “Can you do a part two of kinda sketchy where they slowly fall in love?”

Notes: Sorry this took me so long, but I had zero inspiration as the request left a lot of questions hahaha. Still fun to write, I hope you like it!

Tag list closed.

Chapter II

You’d fallen into a routine for a while. You’d do groceries, he’d do the dishes. You switched cooking, though it was also fine if neither of you felt like it, which is when you’d just order takeout or eat leftovers. But what seemed like the normal thing for two roommates to do on a spoken terms of agreement, it actually appeared you did those things for each other because you wanted to. You’d find some left over dishes in his room which you’d clean, and the next morning you’d find the forgotten tea on your nightstand already back in the cupboard. If you fell asleep working, reading, or watching something on TV, you’d somehow always end up in your bed even though you couldn’t remember getting up to get there yourself.

It had grown into this wonderful friendship between two people who had found it convenient to live together. You knew he could just as well live on his own now, knowing how big his YouTube channel had gotten within the time you’d first seen it up until now- in only a few months, at that. You’d asked him about it, but he’d simply brushed it off, saying it was easier for him this way. He wasn’t sure if he would ever do a face reveal, and having you go outside so he didn’t have to was a great bonus to the shared rent and company. It had hurt you slightly to hear him talk about it so plainly when you had already realized you were starting to feel more for him than you were supposed to.

It had started gradually, to be honest. You hadn’t noticed it at first. You simply took for granted all the times he jokingly bumped his shoulder into yours, or when he hugged you tight when he saw you needed it, or when he even kissed you on the cheek while having a debate with you on what a ‘chef’s kiss’ meant when you’d cooked a – if you may say so yourself – sublime meal.

But now, you had to miss all of those things. It seemed, when you agreed to his basic explanation of how easy it was for him with you living here in order to hide your disappointment, he’d seen it as a sign to stop doing all of those things for granted.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, please. But it’s just easier. I’ve gotten recognized before in a drive-through and I don’t want to go through that ever again,” he said.

You shook your head, even though your heart was plummeting down a set of stairs. “No, I completely get it. We’re roommates and it’s what we agreed upon. That’s it.”

“That’s it,” he repeated.

And that was it. The cups of leftover tea on your nightstand had started to form a fort, and you suddenly found yourself waking up on the couch in the middle of the night, feeling cold and grouchy as you realized you had to walk back to your bed. If you did sleep there until morning, you’d wake up from the sound of the coffee machine with a mumbled ‘sorry’ from your roommate, but other than that, he never said anything about it.

You’d wondered if he was angry with you. You’d even made a peace offering by cleaning up the mess in his room. Even that he didn’t mention.

So, one night while you were waiting on him at the table to show up for dinner, he didn’t come. He wasn’t in the apartment, he hadn’t texted you, he hadn’t left a note. He was nowhere to be found. Of course, you’d think something happened to him. You called Sykkuno first, and luckily you’d chosen exactly the right person.

“Oh, yeah! We’re playing Mario Kart, and he’s staying over. I thought he’d told you?” he said.

“Eh, no, he didn’t,” you replied, rubbing your eyes. “It’s fine. You guys have fun.”

“Thanks! You should come next time too, if you’re not too busy. Corpse told me how much work keeps you up.”

“He did?” you ask, sounding as monotone as could be.

“Yeah, but I think it’s just because he doesn’t want you to meet us yet. We kinda make a crazy first impression on everyone, and I’m pretty sure he wants us to be on our best behaviour when you come over… He- He does talk about you, a lot.”

“He… what?”

“Rae started teasing him about it, but then he brushed it off saying he’d never cheat on me, which is kind of weird considering we aren’t-“

“What did he say about me?” For a moment you felt guilty cutting him off, but your curiosity and heart got the better of you and Thomas didn’t really seem to mind.

“Oh, you know, how you’ve been taking care of him more than he’s ever taken care of himself. I thought it was kind of sad, but he talked about it pretty fondly. Rae caught a hint of that and started asking very personal questions, like what’s going on between the two of you, and then he stopped. I think he just doesn’t want to throw things out there, you know? I think he- Oh, here he is now! Do you want to me to hand you over?”

“No. Thanks, Thomas.” You’d quickly ended the call, but it seemed to late when you’d still heard him ask with that raspy voice of his, “Who are you talking to?”.

So, you ended up eating your dinner alone. He didn’t come home until after midnight, when you were still sitting at the same table, this time with your laptop in front of you doing some last bits of work so you wouldn’t end up falling asleep on the couch again.

You didn’t even turn around when you heard him walk in. He seemed to even hesitate for a moment, judging by his footsteps, before he said ‘hey’. You muttered it back, pretending to be engrossed in your work.

He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, before leaning back against the counter, his face turned to you. “You know, maybe you should just work in bed. I highly doubt falling asleep with your face smashed against the keyboard is very comfortable.”

You suddenly stopped typing, leaned your elbows against the table and linked your fingers together, looking him dead in the eye. “Maybe I want to feel the pain in my back as a punishment knowing I fell asleep like this again.”

“Fair enough,” he sighed.

You let a silence linger just a bit longer, before you continued typing and said, “You could’ve told me where you were.”

He was probably staring at you, but you still pointedly ignored him. “I didn’t know that was in our arrangement.”

“Well, I didn’t know our arrangement was that unpersonal to you. Seems like all I am is someone who just gets your groceries for you.” It was a low blow. But you just needed to make him feel the stabbing, the way he stabbed you.

“Jesus, I told you not to take that personally. That’s not what I meant at all,” he said.

“I didn’t take it personally until you thought that conversation was enough to start ignoring me,” you lied.

“I think you know just as well as I do why I’m keeping my distance.”

You met his eyes. Nothing you could see in there, besides the frustration, gave you any answers. You couldn’t help it, you were glaring back at him just as hard even though all you could feel right now was confusion. He shook his head and sighed.

“Maybe it’s time this agreement ends.”

The thought had crossed both your minds, but he was the one who had said it out loud. And probably stung harder for you than it would have for him if you’d cut the cord. He left you sitting there, with tears now blurring your vision, slamming the door behind him for good measure.

***

He wasn’t home again. It gave you the perfect opportunity to quickly pack the rest of your shit up and leave, quietly. A cowardly move, perhaps, but you knew you didn’t have it in you to face him for this. You still hadn’t found a new place yet, since everything in Cali was way too fucking expensive and most ads looking for a roommate even sketchier than the one from Corpse you’d replied to. One of your friends had come to your aid, however, so you had at least a temporary place to say without having to suffer in this tension any longer.

You were just shoving the last of your books in a cardboard box when your phone rang. It was Thomas.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Uh… well, I was wondering if you could tell us that…” Sykkuno hesitantly asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh- give me the phone-“ “Hey!” there was an evident struggle, before Rae was suddenly talking to you, clearly having ripped the device from Thomas’ hands.

“Corpse is acting all weird! We know something happened between the two of you, but he doesn’t wanna talk about it! It’s like he’s gone back to his brooding old self and I’m worried! So you better start talking!”

“Unless it wasn’t your fault-“ you heard Thomas call out. He was quickly shushed by Rae.

“There’s nothing to say. He made it very clear that our living arrangement was just that; an arrangement, and he stopped talking to me. I confronted him about it, he started saying vague shit and asked me to move out.”

“Wait, what did he say?! I need specifics!” “Rae talks Corpse language, apparently,” you heard Toast mumble in the background.

“He said ‘I think you know just as well as I do why I’m keeping my distance’,” you imitated, your voice not nearly going as low as his.

“Wait, what?”

“I think he just figured out I have feelings for him. I understand how he wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Oh my god, you’re both such idio-!“

The call ended before you could hear the rest of Rae’s frustration. You shrugged it off, understanding why she would be mad at you by upsetting Corpse. He was her friend first and foremost, after all.

You stuffed your clothes in garbage bags, tied them up and pushed all of it into the living room. You’d dusted, vacuumed, and taken the bedsheets off. While balling all of the laundry up in your arms, you heard the door open. You immediately froze.

Footsteps were coming closer. Maybe if you didn’t move he would think you weren’t here. You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to see that he didn’t care. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands were wringing the fabric of the bedsheets. God, you should’ve packed quicker. You shouldn’t have been so organized, you should’ve just shoved everything in a few boxes altogether and made a break for it. You should’ve.

He was at your door opening. The footsteps had stopped. You still had your back turned to him.

Just keep walking. Please, just keep walking, you pleaded, closing your eyes. Waiting for the final blow.

However, it didn’t seem to land. Not anywhere near you, at least.

You simply heard his breathing, which seemed more erratic than usual, but perhaps you were just imagining things. Please, just keep walking. Please, I can’t-

“Please don’t go,” he rasped.

Your brows furrowed. If anything, your eyes squeezed shut even tighter. He had to be joking with you.

But then he said your name, pleadingly. He stepped behind you, and you could feel his warm breath against your neck. “Please don’t go. I don’t want you to go.”

“I think you do,” you tried to convince him, as well as yourself.

His hands found his way around your waist and across your stomach until his chest was flush against your back. “No, I don’t.”

Your hands felt numb, so numb you barely noticed them dropping the bedsheets. He turned you around slowly, and you opened your eyes.

“I… heard what you said to Rae.”

“Oh.”

You watched as he leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You didn’t stop him- of course you didn’t want him to. His lips pressed against yours gently, in a question, which you responded to. It was still laced with a certain hesitance, but not one strong enough to make either of you want to pull back. It was tingly, warm, and comfortable as the stress of the past few days came washing over you.

He smiled shyly as he pulled back. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew about how I felt.”

“I’m sorry too. I think we need to set up some things in our agreement about communication.”

“Please, no more fucking agreements. I think Rae would definitely kill us.” You both laughed.

TAG LIST CLOSED!

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[jonnnysuh]

Never Not - Park Jinyoung

Pairing: idol!Jinyoung x gender neutral reader

Summary: Your bad day is turned around when your childhood best friend, Jinyoung, returns to your hometown and takes you on a tour of your favourite memories together.

Genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: suggested sexual experience

Word Count: 4.3k

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Hi guysssss. I took a small break from tumblr bc I got super busy with work. I haven’t written something like this in a while, but I actually loved how it turned out. I recommend listening to Never Not by Lauv to get into the mood <33

Effort was hard to make these days. Even the way you walked had an unmistakable slouch. Your exhaustive strides were just a shallow reminder that there used to be a hop in your step. Five more minutes and you were free from the shackles of work. Free to figure out what to make for dinner, and appease the gurgles of your stomach.The seconds on the point of sale system didn't seem to move fast enough as you folded the customer's final item and shoved it into a bag.

When you were a kid, no one told you how exhausting being an adult was, and thus it became something to look forward to. You were so caught up on getting that first kiss, sneaking out to go to parties, seeing people that your parents didn't approve of, that you didn't realize that life didn't slow down from there. It was like you blinked, and you were no longer 16. Instead, you were twenty-something perpetually feeling like life was just an endless pit of "what ifs" and building up the courage to make something of yourself. Another mindless "Have a good day." escaped your lips as you bid a customer bye for the nth time that day. You wondered how many of your years would waste away telling others to have a good day, when you yourself hadn't had one in a while.

You pressed your fingers against your temple to sooth a small growing headache. Working in retail for as long as you had, you knew that the s-curved line of people didn't stop for your discomfort. With a fake smile on your face, you welcomed the next few customers as your eyes wandered around the store looking for the person who was going to take over for the next hour. Fifteen minutes past the hour, your replacement finally came. Externally, you wanted to scream and ask them what took you so long? but you knew that would only make you as good as the worst customer. Graciously, you nodded at them, before walking away to the back room to fetch your things and head out.

...

You stood against the wall at the bus shelter shivering from the cool summer breeze that was disguising just how rapidly autumn was truly coming. Today probably wasn't the best day to forget your coat.  You rubbed your arms for warmth, taking micro footsteps in place.  The pain in your feet made you romanticize the comfort of the sturdy old bus seats as a place of rest. You felt your phone in your pocket vibrate, but you let it ring out. You were determined to get a seat on this bus. A deep sigh escaped you as you surveyed the density of the crowd on the platform- the ride home was definitely going to be longer than usual. When the bus arrived, you queued behind a long line of people. Your phone rang a second time, at this point the crowd was getting larger and you knew you weren't going to get a seat on this bus.

PRIVATE CALLER 

"Hello?" you pressed your phone to your ear. Sometimes your mother used phone booths to reach you, so you expected her voice to be on the other end of the line. "I'm offended I had to call you twice for you to pick up."  The voice was much deeper, and the delivery much more lighthearted than anything that would've came out of your mother.  The absence of a greeting was distinct and direct, but no matter, you knew exactly who this was.

You felt the tenseness of your shoulders drop with just the sound of this voice. "If I had definitely known it was you, I wouldn't have picked up, Mr. Private caller." you jest with the phone  pressed between your ear and the crook of your shoulder.

"You know, I was gonna suggest that I pick you up, but just for that comment, I change my mind."

You poke your tongue at your cheek, coyly. For all the changes that occurred in your life, for some reason you could depend on Jinyoung's quick wit and humour to hit the spot even after all this time.

"That's fine, I just finished work so I was thinking of just going home anyways."  You had no idea he was even back in South Korea. Last you heard, he was on tour somewhere in North America. More than that, you couldn't even remember when the last time you actually talked was. You were curious about what he was up to these days, but you you knew any hint of urgency in your voice would lead to incessant teasing on his part. The line progressed slightly, but you still didn't feel any closer to the entrance of the bus.

  "I'm about to get on a bus home." 

"Well, don't get on." 

"If I don't get on then you're gonna have to repay me for the fare I paid to even get here." You eyed the bus reaching its capacity, and stepped aside. You twisted your fingers in hope that he was being 100% serious, otherwise you were going to have to wait out for the 6:30pm bus.

"I can't believe the cost of your attention is only $2. Do better." the voice quipped. 

"Okay, Jinyoung I guess I'll just get on, then." you threatened, although you had no intention of boarding the departing bus.

"Fine, fine. I'll pay for your fare. Just wait for me."

...

The sky had darkened tenfold since you hung up from Jinyoung's impromptu call. The streetlights glowed gold against the lavender backdrop of the sky. You sat on the bus shelter bench, swinging your feet back and forth as you waited for him. If he took even a minute longer, you vowed to somehow become the president of the Park Jinyoung hate club. Of course, you wouldn't actually, but the idea became more appealing the longer you waited. 

You weren't one to go on spontaneous outings- at least not since your teenage years. Recently, you followed the strict routine of work, home, sleep, and to stray from it seemed pointless. But the fact that he even thought of you when he came back home to South Korea was still not something you could wrap your head around.

In the distance, a glow of headlights appeared, stopping perfectly adjacent to your bus stop. The window rolled down, and there appeared Jinyoung's face in all its glory. To say all the words in your vocabulary disappeared would be an understatement. A part of you doubted he would even follow through. Without missing a beat, he returned a look to you. "You just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna get in the car?"

...

Your backpack was sitting atop your lap, bouncing with the movement of the car. Jinyoung hung one hand over the steering wheel. The orange and purple of the sky twisting, and creating a brand new colour that only seemed to grace the skies at this hour. The music was unidentifiable, but the volume was low enough that you didn't even bother trying to figure it out.

"So what'd you do today?" he asked. 

"I worked, I told you that." you replied, matter-of-factly.

"And how was it?"

"I honestly can't tell the difference between this week and last week. Or even last month. Same old, same old. Annoying customers, stale lunch, forgot my jacket at home even though it's 15 fucking degrees outside." 

"Do you still work at that clothing store you started at when we were 20?"

  Your eyes shifted, following the ever-changing scenery of the highway. No idea where he was bringing you, and yet you were brought to comfort by Jinyoung's habits.  You knew he didn't have a drug deal, or a random party planned.  Jinyoung was always the type to be home before midnight. He was a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes, but you weren't completely fooled. You knew he could bend the rules if it seemed to serve him.

  "That exact same one."

 "Anything else?"

  You looked at him, the shock settling in that he was really right next to you-- no longer just a figure on a billboard that you used to know. The changes of his physicality were subtle; his face was more defined, but his cheeks still carried the baby fat that had been there since childhood. The shadow of his facial hair loomed on his smooth skin. The mole on the top of his lip, not necessarily gone, but faded. He looked older, but the aura of his presence remained the same.

"And then I was dumb enough to get into a car with a stranger because he said he'd give me $2."

Jinyoung side eyed you, causing you to erupt in laughter. His glare was also unchanging. "Stranger? Your memory's fading already?" He shook his head disappointedly. "I thought you still had a few good years left."

  "Oh yeahhhhhh. Sorry Jinyoungie. Didn't recognize you with all the fame." you pinched and pulled on his ear- both things a relic of your grade school years. When you were kids, you never let him forget the age gap. Granted, it was only 3 days, but that gave you the freedom to refer to him however you pleased, while he was stuck with the honorifics.

As you let go, the curve of his ear flushed red. "OWW.” he cried, swatting your hand away. “You’re lucky I’m driving otherwise I would pull your hair.”

Being raised with Jinyoung meant that you were inseparable but kind of in the worst way. If Jinyoung got  a good mark on a test, his parents would immediately flaunt it to yours. If you wanted to sneak out, he was on your tail telling you to go back home. And if he knew you liked someone, then that person would know soon enough by the words of Jinyoung. All of that warranted ear pulling, and if you did something in retaliation he would pull your hair.

He was one of the few people in your life, who encapsulated a certain time of your life.  The time in your life when you were young, and the world felt so big and everything was possible.

  The car rocked back and forth as it shifted into the elevated ramp of a parking lot. Your eyes widened as you realized where you were.  He lingered in his seat before popping his seatbelt off and exiting the car. You followed him, swinging the passenger door open.

  "So you randomly called me because you wanted to hang out at the...convenience store?" you gestured to the old, orangey building. The bricks were chipped, and the fluorescent lights illuminated the outside through the big glass window.  You remember the days when you and Jinyoung would sit on the parking blocks and split a bag of chips until you were chased off the property by the owner. He pulled on the store door, pressing his back to it and letting you enter first. 

"Well, I wasn't going to come here until you started yanking my ears. That's when I knew you were hungry."

Without stopping, you weaved through the store until you reached aisle 3- the snack aisle had become a home to you and Jinyoung when you were growing up. In grade school, you were both fearful of what was beyond the boundaries of your home and school so you indulged in after school snacks at the convenience to talk about the latest happenings in your life. As you aged, it became the place of solace after exams, or the meetup location for last minute plans.

  He picked up a package of gummy worms, and shook them in your face. "Do you remember what happened the last time we ate theseeee?" Jinyoung smirked. For a moment, you were taken aback by how much he had grown. In your teens, you and Jinyoung met eye to eye. Now, you felt like you had to look up at him in order to be taken seriously.

  You crossed your arms, "Yeah, we ate them in the parking lot and you made me confess who I had a crush on." 

"Chan, right?" 

You nodded, with a sulk as you reminisced. "That wasn't fair."

 "Why? Do you still have a crush on him?" 

"I haven't thought about him in so long. You really think I'd have a lingering crush on a guy I haven't seen in years?"

Jinyoung shrugged, and shifted his feet. "You had a huge crush on him, though. You even stared at him like this." He rested his palm to his cheek, letting out a deep sigh while trying to maintain an enamoured expression. You snorted, hitting him on the chest. "You'd write his name all over your notebooks AND you bullied me into giving you one of my new ones." he added.

You let out a belly laugh. "And then I wrote his name all over that one too."

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "They were premium quality notebooks. My aunt sent me them from the states!"

 "You had a kabillion of them. Besides, you pestered me for-like-ever to know who I liked, but you never even told me who you had a crush on." You grabbed the bag of gummy worms from his hand and placed it in your shopping basket. Your attention shifted, as you realized you should be in search of your favourite chocolates. You knew that you were far too old to be eating junk food for dinner, but there was something familiar about being hyped up on food that you knew would rot your insides. Your eyes landed on the top row of the wall, and before you could grab your favourite chocolates, Jinyoung stripped it from the wall and dropped it into the basket. He piled on a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and then you both ventured to the drink refrigerators.

  Both of you stared deeply at your drink options. On each level of the fridge, stood several different colourful drinks. If you knew Jinyoung, then you knew he would pick a Coke- it was something he swore by in your younger years. You hummed, mentally deciding between an iced tea or a vitamin water.  You weren't sure why it bothered you when Jinyoung picked up a Sprite, but you tried to hide your dismay. With an ice tea in hand, and a basket full of both of your favourite things, you made your way to the cashier.

  At the last moment, Jinyoung placed a bright yellow umbrella on the checkout counter. He looked down at you, surely, “You never know when it’s gonna rain.”

...

The following car ride to your next destination only lasted about 3 minutes before he parked on the side of the road and dragged you down the street, with the plastic bag full of your foods in hand. 

"I should've known you were going to bring me here." you said, strolling down the familiar gravel pathway towards your elementary school. All colour in the sky had disappeared now, finding it hard to see anything but the outline of each other and some features.

  Both of you settled on the grass field, onlooking the tall school building that was the foundation of your formal years. As soon as you opened the bag of chips, you found yourselves deep in conversation, talking about what life had been for him the last few years. You couldn't help but be in awe when he explained the rush he got when he got on stage, and how he got anxiety when he thought he wasn’t doing his best.  The candidacy of his thoughts drew you in and you were surprised that he trusted you with his secrets. 

All these years, you had always wondered what he was up to, if he was living a life far better than the one he left at home.  To everyone else, he was this huge pop star that had travelled the world 3 times over, but to you, he was your best friend who left home at 16. You had seen him through the bad hair phases, the adolescent temper tantrums, the voice cracks, and the questionable fashion choices both your parents had put you in.

  He leaned back on his arms as he gazed at the school. "Are you afraid of change?" You were silent for a moment as you thought. "On a scale of 1-10?" you rocked your head back and forth. "It's a 15."

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows. You held your legs to your chest, and looked at him. "Why?"

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and looked smugly in the other direction. "Heyyy." you poked him repeatedly. "You can't just ask me that and not tell me why."

He enclosed his hand around your finger, forcing your poking to come to a halt. It felt like he was studying your face. Never in your life had you ever felt like you were under the scope of Jinyoung's gaze. The darkness of the sky acted as a mask, hiding your blushing face.

"It was the last thing I asked you before I left." he admitted. "I asked you that when things were about to change big time for us… I always wondered if you resented me for leaving you behind."

  The last day before Jinyoung left to become a full-time trainee, you two snuck on to this very same field. Both of you ran across the grass, picking up dandelions; believing that if you gathered enough and blew on them, that they would fuel your wishes.

  “You thought I could resent you?” He nodded. “Well, for starters, I hate your guts.” You replied sarcastically, causing him to look at the ground with embarrassment and your face softened at the sight of it.

  “You know what I wished for on all of those dandelions, Jinyoung?”

 “Not to fail the math exam.” Even in a soft moment, he couldn’t help but be sly. “No!” You exclaimed. 

“Well, you should’ve. You got a 48.” He sensed your killer look on him. “So what’d you wish for?”

You played with your fingers. You thought you’d take this secret to the grave. “I wished that you’d be successful in whatever you chose to do.” His eyes enlarged, alarmed at your confession. “but maybe I should’ve wished for the math thing.”

  Jinyoung giggled, inching closer to you so your legs were pressed against each other. 

“What did you wish for?” You asked. He smiled with the side of his mouth, shaking his head. 

“I wished that I’d always find my way back home.” “Oh goddd.” You gagged. “you’re so corny.”

 “What about you, huh? You used your wish on me!” he bellowed, his voice echoing against the school playground. 

“Hey, I might just be the reason why you’re famous.” You fought back.

You flipped your phone over, 7:53, the brightness of it only barely illuminating the dark. You thought about what you would be doing at this moment if you weren’t here, if he hadn’t picked you up.  Mmm probably falling asleep to a tv show. Probably dreading tomorrow. Probably not as happy.

"But what did I say? You know… the first time you asked me that question?” You couldn’t even begin to imagine how 16-year-old you answered.

  "You said you were excited to see who we were going to become.” The words of your younger self were so hopeful, yet your current self felt hopeless. Your expression sank, and Jinyoung offered a small smile to revive it. He felt guilty having asked you the question in the first place.

You sat in silence for a bit, dwelling on the excitement for life that you once had. Where was it? And how could you get it back?

“I feel like I’ve let myself down. I don’t even know who I am now.”

Jinyoung blinked slowly, watching his childhood best friend crumble. He rested a hand on your shoulder.  "I just look at you, and in so many ways you're the same. I still know what makes you laugh, and the way you say things. I can still pick out your favourite snacks, and know you’re gonna pull my ears when I do something to piss you off.” he yanked on yours softly. "Everything about you feels just how I left you. I feel my youth when I'm with you. But at the same time I’m comforted by how much you’ve changed.”

“I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” You shook your head no. “Do you remember how scared you were to even leave the house when we were kids? Now you live on your own. You never took anything seriously back then, but you’re now one of the hardest working people I know…” his voice softened. “And you let yourself be vulnerable with me when it used to take hours to drag it out of you.” You laid on his shoulder, and he rested his head on top of yours, snuggling closer. “You fear change, yet you’re changing right before your own eyes. And maybe one day, I’ll come back here, and I won’t even be able to recognize who you’ve become.” You sniffled, the idea of Jinyoung not remembering you broke your heart. You held your chest. “But if that day does come, it’ll be okay. Because I know that the person that you’ve become will have it all figured out.  I’ll always be rooting for every single version of yourself even if it doesn’t include me.” You sobbed quietly, interlocking your fingers with his. He held your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. For once, there was an action not done out of habit or relic. It was an action evoked just for this moment, and it was a change that you didn’t mind.

…

Jinyoung held your hand, leading you down a narrow road a few minutes away. The sound of crickets, barking dogs, and distant vehicles could be heard as you stood in the middle of the road of your childhood neighbourhood.

  You hadn’t been here since you moved in 2016. You looked up at the large modern house that sat on what used to be two lots. Yours and Jinyoung’s childhood homes were purchased by a wealthy business man and demolished to build the business man’s dream home. You stared at the foreign house that sat on the place of your childhood dreams and frustrations.

  Jinyoung placed his hands on your shoulders and stopped you at the exact halfway point between what was once his house and your house. You rubbed your arms as a gust of wind rushed by. Without thinking, Jinyoung slipped off his hoodie and placed it on top of your shoulders.

“I remember racing you down this street.” You piped up, pointing down the end of the road. Jinyoung always won that race. No one was faster than him on this street.

“I remember finding that stray puppy and fighting over who got to keep it.” He responded.

“It should’ve been me.” You bickered. Jinyoung laughed, amused at how you were always one to hold a grudge.

“Do you remember that day when it started raining soooo hard and we had to walk shoulder to shoulder under my umbrella?”

You nodded. “Ya, that was the same day with the gummy worms, you dummy.”

“So do you remember what happened right here?” He pointed at the exact spot you were standing. You racked your head for a memory, but nothing stood out to you clearly. You shook your head no. “We always said bye to one another here...but…?” you trailed off.

He took a step forward, both of you standing directly under the streetlight now. You watched his face light up as he likely played the moment back in his head. “So that day, standing under my umbrella, we were about to go our separate ways. You turned into me.”

He took another step closer, popping open the bright yellow convenience store umbrella and holding it over your heads.

You could see it now. It was drizzling so hard, even your hair wasn’t protected from getting soaked.   You wrapped your hands around the handle, just like how you did back then. Chest to chest, huddled under the umbrella. Jinyoung locked eyes with you, your heart beat faster.

“And you looked at me, and I swear I was going to say everything I wanted to tell you right then and there.” Your mouth opened in shock. “This was the place where I almost told you I loved you.”

You studied the eyes of the boy you watched grow up. He looked scared, but sure. There was no doubt in your mind that Jinyoung meant what he said. He lowered the umbrella, not letting his gaze veer from you.

  Your life was just a build up of what if’s and trying to gain the courage to make something of yourself… but you didn’t want that anymore. With your heart beating out of control, you leaned into him, taking the risk and kissing his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the heat of the kiss.

A round of thunder boomed above you, and little by little, raindrops began to pour from the sky.

You and Jinyoung separated to look up at the sky. “I did say, you never know when it’s gonna rain.”

You both ran for the car, shoulder to shoulder, under the umbrella. From your heads to your toes, you were soaked in the rain, but neither of you cared. You silently thanked the world for every bad thing that happened to you today that led to this.

…

You blinked your eyes awake, surveying the damp clothes strewn across your living room floor, and the heat of the bare body laying next to you on the couch. You stared at your sleepy childhood best friend, a smile spreading across your lips. This was a change you were ready for. 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Transfer

Troy Bolton x Reader

Words: 4064

Summary: Moving schools isn’t easy. Moving to the rival school… Start of something new? Or complete disaster. 

Notes: I will stop writing for Troy when my love for him ceases… so never. (This is another one that is going to deal with bullying, even more so than the last one, so if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to move along)

Warnings: Cyber bullying, angst

-

Nobody knew. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself. Nobody knew you or anything that had happened. Granted, that also meant you didn’t know anyone either. Strangers passed you without a second glance. This was good. If nobody noticed you, they wouldn’t attack. If you stayed invisible, you stayed safe. 

“Hey Chad, over here!” You were so busy looking at your new schedule that you didn’t see the basketball hurtling towards you. The ball hit you square in the chest, knocking the wind out of you and causing you to drop your books. “Oh gosh, I am so so so sorry.”

A boy crouched down in front of you, trying to gather up your papers before they were swept away under his classmates’ shuffling feet. 

“It’s okay,” You gasped, stilling trying to catch your breath. He helped pick up the last of your things and held out his hand to help you up. 

“I’m Troy.” He gave you a smile that would have made the entire cheer squad at West High swoon. You took his hand, feeling the blush on your cheeks. 

“Y/N.” So much for staying invisible. 

“Are you okay? That sounded like it hurt.” The apologetic puppy face was almost as cute as his smile. 

“I’ll be fine. I probably should have been paying more attention.” You laughed nervously. 

“And I should have caught the ball.” As he handed your things back to you, he caught a glimpse of your schedule. “Hey, you have Mrs. Darbus for homeroom!”

“Um, yeah, I was trying to find her room.” You anxiously tucked a hair behind your ear. 

“I can show you.” He offered, that gorgeous smile returning. “My friends and I have her too.”

“Drop something?” A blonde girl wearing the pinkest jacket you had ever seen held out Troy’s basketball. His smile strained. 

“Thanks Sharpay.” Her vicious gaze turned on you. 

“And who are you?” And here you thought all the scary girls went to West High. 

“I-uh-I’m-” You stuttered. Troy came to the rescue. 

“Look at the time! We’re all going to be late for homeroom if we don’t hurry.” He quickly ushered you away from Sharpay, helping you steer through the herd of students to Mrs. Darbus’ room. 

“Who was that?’ You whispered as seats started to fill up. 

“That was Sharpay Evans. The evil queen of East High. Just stay off her bad side and you should be fine.” He shuttered, grabbing his usual desk. All the seats around Troy were filled so you picked an empty desk in the back row. The scary blonde, along with a few other late comers got in the door just as the bell rang. 

“Troy, pass it.” One of the guys held out his hand. Troy threw him the basketball and he proceeded to spin the ball on his finger. “You ready for the game?” He grinned. 

“Are you kidding? The Knights are so going down.” Troy made a hoop with his arms and his friend tossed the ball in. The room pretended to cheer and you couldn’t help but smile at the antics. Your teacher wasn’t as amused. 

“Mr Danforth, Mr. Bolton, it seems you’ve lost your way to the court. This is a classroom. I will be seeing you two superstars-”

“In detention.” They finished grimly. 

“You must be new.” The girl next to you whispered. “She had gorgeous brown hair and a kind smile. “I know how you feel. I moved here last year. I’m Gabriella.” 

“I’m Y/N.” Your cell phone buzzed in your pocket. You opened up your messages, feeling that awful icy dread that you had tried to get away from.

“Miss Y/L/N, correct?” Mrs. Darbus stood over you, holding a bucket. 

“Y-yes.” 

“While your former school may have allowed electronics, I certainly do not.” She motioned to your phone. You slumped in your chair and dropped it into the bucket. 

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Not to worry I’m sure you’ll make plenty of new friends in detention.” She returned to the front of the room. You didn’t dare argue, burying your face in your hands with a sigh. You felt the words of the message resonate in your head. 

You can run. But you can’t hide. 

-

Detention didn’t seem so bad. You mostly just had to help paint sets for the end of the year one-act. You had your face buried behind a picket fence when a pair of blue eyes peaked at you between the boards. 

“Need some help?” Troy offered, leaning over the fence. 

“Be careful of the paint!” You exclaimed before his hands got covered. You swiped your arm across your forehead and Troy started to snicker. “What?”

“You’ve got a little…” He motioned to the spot above your eyebrow. Horrified, you scrambled to find a rag to clean off the paint. Troy laughed, but not in a mocking way. You couldn’t help but laugh with him. How long had it been since you laughed with someone? Let alone an outrageously cute guy?

“I meant to say thanks earlier, for helping me find Mrs. Darbus’ class.” You said, getting back to work on the fence. 

“It’s the least I could do after missing the ball.” He sat down next to you and grabbed a brush to help. 

You heard an outburst of laughter from across the stage and winced. You whirled your head around and saw a group of students messing around with funny looking masks from the costume trunk. You exhaled slowly to calm down. They weren’t laughing at you. 

“You okay?” Troy wondered, noticing your sudden change in demeanor. You forced a smile and said your well rehearsed line. 

“I’m fine.” 

For the first time, somebody saw through it. Troy may not have given any indication, but he could tell that something had upset you. He just nodded and smiled. 

“Are you coming to the game this weekend?” He changed the topic excitedly, hoping to distract you from whatever had made you upset. 

“I don’t know yet.” You sighed. “I have a lot to catch up on and stuff to set up.” His face fell into that adorable pout and you just couldn’t say no. “I can try and squeeze it in.” His eyes lit up. 

“Great!” Through his excitement, a slightly shy smile crept onto his lips. “I was kind of hoping that you’d want to get a pizza or something after the game?”

You tried to keep your jaw from dropping. 

“Are you… asking me out?” You gasped. He grinned. 

“Yeah. I guess I am.” His fingers brushed against yours as both reached for the paint. You blushed. 

“Then, um, yeah. I’d love to go out with you after the game.” You were smiling brighter than you had in a long time, but still, a little voice in your head was telling you this was a bad idea. Stay invisible. Stay invisible. 

“Awesome.” Troy was beaming, making that little voice of doubt disappear. “I promise, I play much better than what you saw in the hall.” You both laughed. Wow he has a nice laugh. 

Mrs. Darbus announced that the time was up and that all prisoners of detention were free to go. Honestly, you were kind bummed. With Troy helping you with the fence, you were actually having a good time. You had a skp in your step as you walked home. 

“Hi mom! Hi dad!” You greeted, snatching an apple for a snack. Your mom’s voice called from the backyard. 

“Hey! How was your first day?” She was elbows deep in tulip bulbs even though it was late January. Then again, you were in New Mexico.

“Really god, actually.” You grinned. “I met some really nice people and got invited to the basketball game this weekend.”

“Woah, what happened to laying low for a while?” She rubbed the dirt off her hands on her apron. Her usual perky cheerleader smile was gone, replaced by a glare of concern. “You know the basketball game is against West High, don’t you?”

“I-” You hadn’t thought about that. Trying to seem confident, you crossed your arms. “I can’t hide forever, mom.”

“Those girls are going to be there.” She said, putting her hands on her hips. “Wouldn’t it be better to just stay home and not drag out the skeletons in your closet?”

“They’re just cheerleaders, mom! They aren’t hitmen.” You exclaimed. You knew that this was more about protecting her pride than your own. 

“Yeah, well, you used to be one of them and look how that turned out.” the disappointed stare she gave you hurt, but you tried not to show it. 

“I'm going to the game and I'm going out for pizza afterwards with one of my new friends.”

“Is that new friend a boy?” She spat. You ignored her. 

“I’m going whether that fits your little ‘laying low’ plan or not.” You stormed off, but not before you heard her muttering under her breath. 

“Haven’t you humiliated me enough?”

-

The next day, you walked with your head down. Your mother’s pessimism had definitely brought your sunny mood back down to earth. Leave it to her to ruin the one good thing you’d had in months. Your attempts to disappear worked well for the fist two periods. Nobody even noticed that you were there. 

Of course, that only lasted until Gabriella spotted you. The bubbly brunette was quick to join you while you tried to navigate your way to your next class. 

“I heard you’re going to the basketball game!” She said excitedly. “I didn’t think I was much of a sports person, but the school spirit here makes everything exciting.” 

“Yeah, I'm not sure.” You shrugged. After all, half of your classmates from West High would be there, including the girls that started all this. Rob would be on the court, playing against Troy. Oh no.

“Well you are welcome to come with me and Taylor. We’re going to have a movie night afterwards, too.” 

“I’m- uh- I’m supposed to be grabbing dinner with Troy after the game.” You muttered, the excitement of the date having faded into dread. 

“You have a date with Troy Bolton?” A shrill voice joined the conversation, stopping you in your tracks. The terrifying blonde was giving you an icy cold stare. “That was quick.” 

“I think it's sweet.” Gabriella countered. She gave you a smirk. “Who knows? Maybe it was love at first sight.” Your eyes fell to the tiled floor. 

“I think he was just being nice.” Your grim tone made her give you a look of concern. Sharpay smiled sarcastically. 

“Well isn’t that just like our Troy?” Her sneer made her annoyance very clear. She put her hands on her hips and began a deeper interrogation. “You’re from West High, aren’t you?” Before you could even answer, she continued. “Won’t that be awkward, coming to the basketball game? Why did you transfer? It’s a little weird, right? Transferring a month into the semester?” 

“Okay!” Gabriella exclaimed. “I think it’s time we all get to class, don’t you think?” Sherpa was clearly irked by the interruption and tossed her hair over shoulder. 

“I guess I’ll just see you both at the game.” She strutted away and you exhaled the breath you had been holding. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don’t worry about her.” Gabriella shrugged. “Sharpay is usually all bark and no bite.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” You said to yourself. 

After third period, it was time for lunch. You found the same empty table that you sat at the day before. You were used to eating alone by now. 

Somewhere in the lunchroom, a phone dinged, followed by laughter. You flinched, waiting for the taunting to start. Like before, however, they weren’t really laughing at you. Keeping your head low, you tuned out the loud chatter of the cafeteria. For a while, it really felt like you were invisible. Invisible and alone. 

“Mind if I join you?” 

You looked up and found Troy giving you a sweet smile. You shrugged in reply and he took that as confirmation that something was wrong. He sat down beside you as you toyed with the green beans on your plate. 

“Gabriella told me about Sharpay. She said you seemed pretty upset.” His words only elicited another shrug. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here if you do.”

“I can’t go to the game.” You blurted. 

“What? Why?”

“I just can’t, Troy.” You kept your face down, so he couldn’t see your tears. “I can’t go out with you either.”

“Y/N, if I said something wrong-”

“Can’t you see I’m doing you a favor?” You slammed your hand down on the table and you finally looked up to see his hurt expression. You almost took it back. Then your phone buzzed ominously and you grabbed your backpack. “I’m really sorry, Troy. But if they saw us together, if they thought I was happy-”

“Who are you talking about?” He was worried now. “Who’s they?”

“Forget I said anything and just… forget me.” Clutching your phone in a tight fist, you ran out of the cafeteria. 

You weren’t sure if Troy followed you or not as you sprinted down the halls of East High. You didn’t read the text until you got out to the parking lot. There weren’t any words. Just that stupid video. 

It was the cheer squad’s Christmas party. There had been some tension between you and the other girls, but you hadn’t thought much of it. ‘Girls as close as you are bicker.’ your mom had said. So you went to the party. 

Amber, the cheer captain and your supposed best friend, told you that Rob Mannington wanted to talk to you. She knew how much of a crush you had on him. Problem was, so did she. 

When you found Rob, you thought the two of you were alone. He took off your jacket and said a bunch of sweet things as he leaned in for a kiss.

“I can’t do this.” He burst out laughing, pushing you away. Other girls from the cheer squad appeared, cackling like a bunch of Prada clad hyenas. Hurt and humiliated, you ran. 

After that, it just got worse. Text messages, online harassment, and eventually, someone took a picture in the locker room and posted it all around the school. Your mother immediately had you transfer to East High. She was ashamed of you and blamed you for the loss of her social status. She didn't care that you lost everything. 

You let out a frustrated and hopeless scream and threw your phone as hard as you could against the concrete. The device broke apart and you stared at it. It wasn’t until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder that you let yourself cry. 

You turned around and were in Troy’s embrace without objection. You let this sweet and caring boy hold you tight while you sobbed. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He was just there. 

-

“Wow.” Troy blew out a long breathing, running his fingers through his hair. “And these were your friends?”

“I thought they were.” You sighed, wiping a fallen tear off your cheek. 

After your break down at lunch, Troy told you to meet him for homeroom. He told Mrs. Darbus that you were going through some stuff and needed a friend. So he brought you to his favorite spot in the whole school; the roof. And you told him everything. It was the first time that you’d really talked about what happened with anyone and it was nice to get it off your chest. 

“I’m really sorry that happened to you.” Troy put his hand on top of yours. “And I totally understand if you don’t want to come to the game. What those West High kids did… I can’t imagine what it was like.” 

“I felt like my whole life- all the cheerleading camps, the coaching from my perfect mother, kissing up to every spoiled girl with pom poms- it all meant nothing.” You were quiet for a moment, Troy’s thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. With a deep breath and your head held high, you made your decision. “I’m going to that game.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get thrown back into everything because of me.” The concern in his voice was more than either of your parents had shown. You gave him a small, but confident smile.

“No. I’m tired of hiding from them. I’m done being invisible.” With your new confidence, you leaned over and kiss his cheek. 

Troy’s face turned a light shade of pink as he grinned. 

“What was that for?’ He wondered sheepishly. Your smile was sincere. 

“For being the first real friend I’ve had in seventeen years.” You leaned your head on his shoulder and he entwined his fingers with yours. You had only known him for two days, but he already seemed to understand you better than anybody else in your life. 

He turned slightly and pressed his lips on top of your hair, lingering there for a moment. Troy couldn’t understand his own feelings, but after less than 48 hours, you seemed to have won over the basketball captain’s heart.

-

You couldn’t hide that you were nervous. From the sounds of it, the gym was already pretty full. Even from outside the doors, you could hear the West High cheer section warming up. Gabriella gave you an encouraging smile to try and calm your nerves. 

“Remember, there is always plan B.” She said, reminding you of the message Troy had sent earlier. 

I can’t wait to see you in the stands tonight! Don’t forget you can alway sleeve if you need to. Gabriella is all set for an emergency escape. Look for #14. I’ll see you then!

You wished he was with you, but he belonged with his team. You could do this. Rob, Amber, the other cheerleaders; none of them mattered anymore. They could taunt you all they wanted, but you weren’t alone. Besides, watching the Wildcats whoop the Knights would be the perfect way to leave them all behind. 

Gabriella grabbed your hand and navigated through the crowd to get inside. The air was buzzing with excitement and you let the energy charge through you. When Amber’s eagle eyes spotted you, you just kept walking. 

After finding a good spot in the student section, you waited s the time ticked by. The gym was filling up, but you could still see Amber whispering to the other girls and pointing in your direction. You inhaled sharply and looked away, feeling the panic begin to resurface. 

“Look, there he is.” Gabriella was almost drowned out by the cheering crowd as the Wildcats ran onto the court. Sure enough, at the front of the pack of jerseys was #14. As the team warmed up, he scanned the crowd. He shot the ball into the hoop and gave you a big grin. 

Then entered the Knights. When you spotted Rob, you didn't feel those school-girl butterflies you used to get whenever you saw him. Now you were just angry. You were just a joke to him. Before you could look away, he saw you. With a smirk, he made a basket. 

Troy noticed the change in your expression and followed your gaze to the cocky player across the court. He felt a rush of defensive determination. He would make sure that the boy who broke your heart wouldn’t be making any points tonight. 

The game started off well for the Knights, with a basket and two foul throws. Their cheerleaders yelled and shook their pom-poms. You couldn’t help but feel like Amber’s sporty sneers were meant for you. 

Rob had stolen the ball and was sprinting towards the hoop. He threw it to one of his teammates, but a flash of red cut in between them. The crowd roared as Troy made it down the court for a basket. 

“Yeah Troy!” You shouted. Rob must have picked out your voice because he sent a furious glare in your direction. You just smiled. 

It was almost half time and the score was tied. Troy was guarding Rob as he dribbled down the court.  

“So Y/N’s your groupie too, huh Bolton?” He snapped. Troy tensed. 

“Just play the game, Mannington.”

“You know, I almost regretted rejecting her like that…” he smirked, “after that picture came out.” With Troy seething, he shoulder checked him out of the way and passed the ball for his teammate to score. The buzzer went off. 

“That marks halftime here folks; Wildcats 22, Knights 24.” 

East High fans breathed a collective sigh as the teams made their way into the locker rooms. 

“What’s wrong with Troy?” Gabriella wondered. You watched him storm angrily into the locker room, his whole body shaking furiously. Whatever Rob had said had set him off and a deep fear settled in your head. 

What did Rob tell him?

-

You bit your lip anxiously. If Troy made this free throw, they would tie the score again. 

“Come on Troy.” You uttered. 

He took a few deep breaths and quickly glanced up at you. He had to make this. He inhaled slowly and dedicated his focus to the hoop ahead of him. As he exhaled, he made the shot. As the ball swished in the net, the fans cheered loudly. 

Now it was the Knights’ ball and with less than a minute on the clock, it was a mad dash to stay out of overtime. Rob was going in for the shot. He planted his feet and tossed the ball. It seemed like the whole gym was holding its breath. 

The ball just bounced off of the rim and Troy snatched it out of the air, earning a chorus of cheers from the crowd. He passed the ball to Zeke who bounded to the basket and dunked the ball for the winning points. 

The buzzer was lost in the shouts from his team and from the ecstatic fans. Disappointed West High fans started to file out of the gym while East High students and families flooded the court. Troy was pulled into a crushing hug by his parents, his eyes searching the faces of people nearby. It took him awhile to find you, but he wasn’t the only one. 

“Rob told me that you found a new guy to creep on.” Amber laughed. “The captain of the basketball team? Really, Y/N, don’t you think that’s aiming a little high? You don’t really think that dreamboat Troy Bolton would be interested in someone like you?” Troy, hearing the conversation, stepped in.

“Hey are you ready to go?” He put a hand on your arm affectionately. Startled by his sudden appearance, you just nodded. “Great! I’m going to go shower and I’ll be back out soon.” He looked at Amber. “Can you believe it? This amazing girl transfers to East High and she agrees to go out with me. I must be crazy lucky or something, I know.” 

Baffled, Amber stomped off to find her posse. You just look at Troy, stunned. Was he just saying all that to get her to go away? As if he read your mind, he took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips. 

“I meant it.” He said and you got lost in his sincere eyes.”I am super lucky that you wound up at East High. That I found you.” A grin spread across his face. “And I am very excited for our date.”

“Oh, so we are officially calling it a date?” You teased. He laughed. 

“That’s what I was hoping for yeah.” You paused, your smile dropping a little. 

“Troy, what did Rob say to you just before half time?” You waited for him to say some rumor that had been spread from your school. Something awful that he would never forgive you for. Troy just smiled and shook his head. 

“Nothing important.” He thought for a moment before quickly kissing your cheek. When he stepped back, you were beaming. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” He started to push through the people around you. “And Troy?”

“Yeah?” His smile could have knocked you off your feet.

“I’m lucky I found you too.” 

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[morning-might-arrive]

Here’s the continuation of my last post. Thank you so much to everyone who liked and reblogged! This is becoming a lot longer than I thought, so there will be another part soon. Feedback is appreciated!

A series of misunderstandings involving a limousine and Spectra’s blog lead Jackson to the realization that he has way more friends than he thought.

Wednesday

Jackson sighed as he silenced his blaring alarm clock. 7:00 am. As he walked to the bathroom to get ready, he was suddenly struck by a memory.

“It’s nothing personal, normie. You just look like such a freak.” Manny told him as he shoved him off of the lunch table. Jackson looked towards the other mansters, but they said nothing. So they all agreed. Even Clawd. 

He cringed. He’d had to eat lunch in a bathroom stall that day. He looked at his reflection, desperately wishing he could change it. He sighed and got dressed. He had to leave early since he now had no car and his parents weren't home. He plugged his headphones into his phone. Holt had gotten them into this situation, only fitting that he deal with it.

Holt Hyde cursed under his breath as he walked to school. Although the weather was warming, mornings in March were still frigid. He sighed in relief as he approached Monster High.

“Heya there, sweetpea,” Operetta drawled in greeting as Holt waltzed through the front doors of the school. 

“What’s good, Oppy?” Holt responded, his usual loud and energetic self even at the early hour.

“Just peachy keen like always, hun. Say, you seen the Ghostly Gossip lately?” She asked.

“Nah, we usually stay away from that garbage ever since that story about us and Frankie. Humiliated the poor ghoul and almost tanked our relationship. It really ain’t cool what they're doin’.” He replied nonchalantly. 

“Oh. Okay. Well sugar, you know you can tell me anythang you wanna, right?” She continued.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks Oppy.” That was kinda weird for the rough and tumble ghoul to say, but honestly Holt was just glad their botched attempt at dating didn’t mess up their friendship. Oppy was a cool ghoul. 

“What’s the word, cool cats?” Came a new voice.

“Johnny!”

“Johnny.”

Johnny spirit sauntered casually down the main corridor of Monster High, and students jumped out of his way as if he had the plague. He put his arm around Operetta’s shoulder. “Hey, babe.”

Holt snorted. “I’ll never get why everyone lets you float around like you own the place.”

Johnny shrugged. “Guess they don’t have a choice. Besides, I never see you doing anything about it,” he replied with a bit of challenge in his tone. Holt rolled his eyes.

“You know you don’t scare us, Spirit. Anyway, it seems like Oppy’s got you on a leash without our help.”

Johnny bristled at that “Y’know Hyde, I’m gettin’ real sick of-”

“Why don’t we scamper on down to the catacombs and finish that new song we been workin on, sugarpie?” Operetta cut in. She really didn’t want to deal with a fistfight this early.

The couple walked away and Holt made toward the auditorium. He found the symphony on stage setting up and dashed up to join them, plugging his guitar into its amp. Jennifire was nearby greasing the corks on her clarinet. He huffed and sat down next to her.

“Another run in with the phantom pianist?” She asked, not even looking up.

“That guy is such a jerk!”

She chuckled and shook her head. “You boys are so easily provoked; I may never understand it. My brothers were just the same. He has done not to insight your anger.”

Holt really hated to admit it, but she was right. Johnny really didn't scare Holt, and he knew a little better than to try that tough guy act on Jackson. Plus, it was kinda funny seeing guys like Heath and Manny faint when he walked past them.

“Your emotions run like wildfire, I am very impressed you came to terms so easily with your end.” She continued.

Wait. What. “My what now?”

“Of course, it must be so hard for you to talk about. I am sorry.” A tear fell from her eye and promptly turned to smoke upon hitting her face.

“Jen, are you okay?” Holt asked, facing her.

She smiled. “Yes, I will be okay. So kind of you to think of me.”

“Okay, Okay, enough chit chat. Places people!” The director yelled as he approached the stage. Well. That was weird. Holt took his place in the stool beside the amp and looked up as the director began counting them off.

After an awkward hour of rehearsal, they were dismissed to second period. Holt emerged out into the crowd of students in the hall. Jennifire was nowhere to be found, so he made his way toward the art room. His Spotify playlist suddenly changed to a song by Pierce the Veil. He pulled out his phone to skip it and saw he had a message from Jackson. He scoffed. If D-low had told him what was wrong, would he be asking? JJ could be so oblivious. Maybe it was just a normie thing. 

He took his usual seat in front of his canvas and continued his painting for this week. 

“Psst, Holt.” he heard a whisper. He turned and met the shiny magenta eyes of retired popstar Catty Noir. “We’re turning up at Cleo’s place on Saturday, you in?”

“Yeah totally- oh, nevermind. We can’t make it, we kinda got a...thing that day.”

“Oh,” she said, looking kind of taken aback. “It’s that soon?” 

“What was that?”

“ I said I’ll see you soon!” she hastily corrected herself as she got up and turned in her painting, promptly leaving the art room. Man, everyone's acting off today. He touched up his work and quickly followed suit.

He basically had the rest of the period to himself, so he decided to riff on his guitar for a little bit. He couldn’t do it in the building anymore ever since that one time Headmistress Bloodgood caught him, so he moved to the front steps and set his bag beside him.

“Hey Holt!”

Holt turned towards the front of the school. “Frankie Fine-Stein! Where have you been hiding?” Her skin glowed a light mint green and her eyes sparked in the sun. Just as bootiful as ever. She sat on the step beside him.

“I was actually just in the library. I found this book about the original Jekyll and Hyde. It was way harsh; It said that Edward Hyde trampled a child in the streets of London, is that true?”

“Nuh-uh! Those stuffy normie’s didn’t like that grandpa’s were different so they dragged their reputation through the dirt!” Holt declared passionately. “Some of the people they charged him with killing didn’t even exist in the first place! Then they made Dr. Jekyll out to be a complete basket case and threw them both in jail! That is until they got bailed out by our great-great-grandma, Lucy.”

“Oh, man. I didn’t know any of that!” Frankie replied. She actually knew all about it, she had heard the exact same thing from Jackson before. They were both incredibly salty about the smear campaign launched against their great-great-grandparents that made their family flee to America in the first place, and you could hardly bring it up around them without a passionate rant. Frankie felt a little bad about bringing up something she knew was a sore subjet for them, but she had to make sure Spectra and the other ghouls didn’t get caught. It was for their own good, right?

Her phone buzzed in her lap and she glanced down. “Spectra got something, meet us back in the library.” Clawdeen. Frankie jumped up. “Sorry, Holt, I really gotta go.”

Holt watched her go in curiosity. He checked the time and quickly jumped up himself and dashed back inside the building. The only way to not be late now was to go through Section C, the so-called “vampires only” hallway. It really irked them when other monster’s used it, but he didn’t really care when it was either that or detention. As he made his way through he felt someone glaring at him, and met eyes with a large group of the former prep-school vampires. He braced himself, but instead of giving him grief like they usually did, they just let him pass. They were acting weird, but so was everyone else. Oh well, he didn’t really have time to think about it now.

Holt’s third period was Chemistry 2 with Mr. Hack. No thanks. Science was never his strong suit. Plus, there was seriously something off about this particular teacher. He just took a little too much pleasure in the cutting open of living things for Holt’s liking. He pulled out his phone.

“Keep an eye out. Today’s been weird, Bro.” He typed the message out and then disconnected his phone from his headphones. The world went dark.

Jackson blinked a few times. What was that ringing sound? “Oh, shOOT!” He bolted through the closest door- which just happened to be the right one- and took his seat as the bell finished ringing.

Mr. Hack passed out a hefty amount of worksheets to the class. “Okay class: no whispering, no talking, no looking around, no coughing or sneezing, no you can’t use the bathroom, and if I catch you on your cell phone the whole class gets detention. You have until the end of the class to complete the worksheets or it's a 0 for today.”

Everyone groaned. Good old Mr. Hack. Charming and likeable. Jackson tried to ignore the stares and whispers in his direction as he did his work. He knows he’s different, don’t they ever get tired of reminding him? Were they all paying more attention to him than usual, or was it just his imagination? He blazed through his work in about 20 minutes, it was just some simple thermodynamics equations. He looked up and noticed that Mr. Hack was asleep. Typical. Half the class were on their phones and the other half were talking amongst themselves. He pulled his phone out and saw Holt’s message.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t just his imagination then, everyone was acting a little odd. Granted, every day at Monster High was pretty weird. Last week they had lost their school crest in a rollerblading contest and the school nearly toppled over, so maybe he could just ignore whatever this was.

The bell finally rang for lunch. He set his work on Mr. Hack’s desk as he jolted awake and practically ran from the room. He shot Clair a text

“Okay, transportation is set and decorations bought. Am I forgetting anything?”

“Measurements, goofy.” She responded almost instantly.

“Oh, right. I can get a tape measure from the woodshop teacher and get them during lunch.”

“Have you told the other monsters about Saturday?”

“No. I just don’t know how they’ll react, y’know?”

“Aren’t they always telling you about how you don’t belong? So why would they care?”

“Yeah you’re probably right. It’s just a difficult situation.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Let me know how it goes.”

Looking down at his phone, he didn’t notice Draculara until he bumped her as he passed.

“So sorry!” He exclaimed. 

“It’s alright.” She reassured him as she walked away. She made her way to the library where her friends were already gathered around in a circle. Spectra floated in the center.

“What’s this all about?” Draculara asked.

“While Frankie had Holt distracted, Spectra looked in his locker.”

“Well what did she find?” Cleo demanded.

“Just this. It appears to be a receipt for some kind of car rental.”

Clawd glanced at his phone. “Heath says Jackson is in the boys locker room right now taking measurements of himself and writing them down.” He told the group.

“Then what Spectra said is true.” Fraknie finally admitted. The room fell into extended silence.

“Well we can at least show Jackson he means something to us.” Draculara spoke up.

“Yeah,” Frankie agreed, “we can do something nice for him and Holt.”

“What are we going to do? Hijack the gym and throw a huge party during lunch?” Cleo asked sardonically.

“You’re on a roll Cleo! It’ll be closed tomorrow, but we can do it Friday!” Clawdeen agreed.

Cleo smiled. Very well then. Friday would be a day for the monster history books.

[mortal-kuddles]

Unsurprisingly, Shang Tsung will toy with the object of affection for some time before actually making a move, preferring to draw out their cat and mouse banter. Ample flirting, sultry comments, and creeping, ghost-like touches. Mind games too, using both magic and manipulation to get under their skin. He aims to make himself as impossible to ignore as possible.

He’s big on testing their limits before he considers more. Mental, physical, and emotional as well. While he doesn’t feel the need to change he is aware that he’s a very taxing man. If anyone is going to hold his attention for long they have to be able to withstand him and not just when he’s putting on a face for them. 

People can and often do fall short of his criteria but still be led on, as he’s not above using the veneer of romance to get people where he wants them. It’s just not his usual move as he has other, less messy tools at his disposal. Over the years his seduction has ranged from political, to personal and even just because he wanted someone to warm his bed for a while. 

Anyone who wants to stand a chance of being his actual partner and not his prisoner has to be particularly strong to both endure his brand of affection and to be of use to him in the long term. His lover must bring something to the table aside from an attractive face. They also have to choose him, knowingly. If he tricks or coerces someone into a relationship he will never see them as anything more than a pawn. Someone knowing who he is deep down and still choosing him is far more appealing. 

While no relationship with him is without power struggles, him constantly vying for control, he’d be at his healthiest with someone equally as desensitized as him. Corrupting the innocent and breaking the brave can be fun in their own way, but he’d much prefer someone with a bit more cunning at his side. A partner in crime has more potential for longevity in their relationship than someone he has to coddle. 

Shang Tsung has lived for millennia on end and can be patient when he wants something, so the build-up to him making any move is slow, calculated, and unrepentantly teasing. His goal is to make them pursue him. Partly to stroke his own ego and partially to absolve himself of some guilt in the eyes of their friends should they have any. How can he be up to something if they came to him first? It’s a balm, of course, the blame will still come to him somehow, but he’d rather have that to hold over the naysayer’s head. 

Once his intended has been primed though, he makes a decisive move. If his lover-to-be does comes onto him first then his response is one aimed to reward their boldness, as he sees nothing wrong with encouraging behaviour he approves of. A lavish, and private dinner over flickering candles. Fine food and finer wine complete with witty conversation interwoven with low, seductive compliments.

Being with him, however, requires that his lover stays with him. On his island, they’ll never want for anything as long as they keep his favour but it’s not for the faint of heart. In his own words, a wise man doesn’t let his treasures wander. 

While he does see them as more than a prize, he won’t deny he enjoys showing them off as if they were. Someone to sit at his side draped in fine silks, pour his tea and observe his day-to-day work as his second set of eyes. 

From an outside perspective, it seems to be a relationship of submission and domination, but that’s down to Shang Tsung preferring that appearance. It grants his lover a degree of deniability and freedom he doesn’t have. If very few respect his lover then few will see them as a threat. 

At his side his lover might not even need to get their own hands dirty, their word often being enough to convince Shang Tsung to take someone out of the picture. Unless their victim is still needed or not ideal to kill just yet then he’ll gladly indulge them. From simple poisoning to their brutal execution he’s almost too willing to cater to his lover’s darker requests. 

Of course, he expects similar treatment in return, particularly enjoying watching his lover kill their enemies. Appreciating their grim handiwork with an appraising eye. If his lover enjoys death and suffering then he’s content to bask in their joy and creativity, but if they’re only doing it to please him he’s only too happy to guide them step by step. 

He’d prefer them to be magically inclined, of course, so they can learn to resurrect him should the worst happen. He has many back-up plans, but it doesn’t hurt to have more. At his side, his lover would never truly need to fear death, not if they remained loyal to him.

[hanniiesuckle17]

The Comment Section

A/n: as a technically plus size girl myself i really liked writing this! feel free to request again after I finish the rest of the ones I have now! (sry this is not thoroughly edited)

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: cussing, mentions of hate

Requested by: anonymous 

Tag List: @distrikt9​ @mini-meanhoe​ @poeticallyspaghetti​ @hanstagrams​ @yangomangos​ @hoes4hoseok​ @desertfordessert​

Summary: Being on the larger side had never stopped you from anything before. You were confident in your curves and loved how you looked. It was one of the reasons that Han Jisung fell head over heels in love with you. Who would have thought a few silly little pictures would turn your world upside down.

Genre: fluff, little angst, romance

✯

Meeting Jisung was a complete accident. A complete accident that changed my life forever. I was a lost foreign exchange student desperate to find her way back to her dorm in the hot summer streets of Seoul. By pure chance, I had bumped into him on the street. I had no idea who he was at the time and he seemed to find that fascinating. 

We ended up walking together until the sun set and the store signs lit up casting neon glows on our faces. Soon we both got lost wandering through the streets talking about everything and nothing in my broken korean and his adorable english. 

Jisung bought me dinner and then we finally found my dorms. He left me with the promise to take me out and get lost again. And that was the start of our relationship. About our fifth date, Jisung told me about his job and who he was. He was utterly shocked that I didn’t freak out about his celebrity status. He always said that what I told him after was when he began falling in love with me. 

“Whether you sing in front of thousands of people, pick up garbage on the side of the road, or teach pre-schoolers not to pick their noses, I would rather be with you than any other place or with any other person on the planet.” 

Now a year and a half later, we were dating and living together in an apartment near the company. Jisung was quite upset that he had to keep our relationship a secret. The company after many attempts at breaking us up gave in and let him continue our relationship despite his dating ban, but only if he kept quiet about it and nothing got leaked to the press. 

This meant we rarely got to go out unless both of us wore masks and hats and for five months out of the year, I was sitting at home waiting for Jisung to come back from tour trying to pretend like I didn’t have a boyfriend to begin with. But, it was all worth it. Jisung was worth it. 

“Yes, dad. I promise I’m eating well.” I said looking at my father through a computer screen. My ears picked up on Jisung moving behind me to open the fridge and I knew what was about to happen next. 

“Jisung!” My father called. Hearing his name he turned and leaned over me to look at my father. “Jisung, how are you?” My dad smiled and turned to focus on my boyfriend. 

Jisung laughed seeing me drop my head in my hands. He leaned against the counter, a bright smile on his face. “I’m fine, Mr. L/n.” 

“How many times have I told you? Just D/n is fine. Now, is she eating well? I know she has exams. You have to make sure my daughter is eating!” Jisung’s arm wrapped around my stomach, pulling me to his side. 

“Of course! We are going out to eat soon actually.” He said cheerfully, pushing the hair away from my face. 

I jumped at the opportunity Jisung secretly handed me. “Yes, Dad! So, we have to go! I love you, talk to you later, bye!” Jisung waved before I slammed my laptop closed, effectively hanging up on my father. “Can we really go out to eat?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his waist. He smiled taking my face in his hands, squishing my cheeks. 

“Of course. I’m starving.” Placing a kiss on my forehead he exited the kitchen. While he was doing whatever he was doing, I ran to our bedroom and changed out of the pajamas I had worn all day. 

Grabbing some shorts and one of Jisung’s shirts I started tying my shoes. How any of his clothes fit me at all was a mystery to me. Jisung was a twig compared to me. Granted he was a very muscular twig. But a twig none the less.

Jisung smiled seeing me in the baggy white fabric that covered my shorts entirely. He leaned against the doorway, dark hair falling in front of his doe eyes. He didn’t bother changing out of his gray sweatpants and tank top. “I never get tired of seeing you in my clothes.” 

“I never get tired of wearing them.” He smirked, watching me get up from the bed and walk over to him. I let my hands travel up his chest as he looked down at me. “Are we taking the car or the subway?” I whispered, leaning up and kissing his lips. A cheeky smile slip onto his face as his hands grabbed onto my ass. 

“I heard it’ll rain soon. Subway?” I nodded and kissed him again, fingers threading through his hair. “Ready to go, baby?” With another nod, we left our apartment, masks on and hats covering our faces. Instinctively, I pulled the white cap on Jisung’s head lower to cover his handsome features. He did the same with the black bucket hat (which was probably his) that I wore. 

Just as Jisung said, a light sprinkled down on us as we walked to the nearest subway station. Unfortunately, the train was crowded, leaving no seats for me and Jisung. We got a few weird looks, most likely because of the excessive face covering. 

We shared low whispers about where to eat and bickered about what stop to get off at. I turned out to right and dragged him off with train, just before the doors closed. Laughing, we ran through the rain to get to our favorite sushi place. 

The woman who owned the restaurant greeted us happily when we entered, ushering us to a secluded back table. Jisung didn’t even look at the menu before ordering enough food to fill every inch of the table. 

“How is the new album coming?” I said picking up a piece of fish. He nodded cheeks half full of food. I smiled seeing his little habit resurface itself.

“Good. I sent a song off to Chan this afternoon. He and I will work on composition tomorrow.” His long fingers maneuvered the chopsticks to place another roll onto my plate. I tried to put it back but he shook his head, adding another one as well. “How are your classes?” 

“Stressful, but manageable. You know the girl next to me in my Maths class is a STAY. She has Seungmin’s photocard in her phone case.” Jisung smiled eating another piece of sushi. “Her phone rang in class the other day. Guess what her ringtone was?” 

He hummed and looked up at me expectantly. “What?” He said covering his mouth, silver rings glinting in the low warm light. 

“Close.” Jisung’s eyes lit up as he started laughing. 

“I almost got in so much trouble when I released that song.” He said dipping a roll in soy sauce. “STAY almost figured out about us.” 

“Well, you did all but put my name in the song,” I said with a laugh. Somehow we had managed to eat all the food on the table. “Did you really feel that way when we met?” I asked him, my elbow resting on the table. 

A waitress came and cleared our table. Jisung stared at me, a soft look in his eyes. “Of course. You were the most gorgeous girl I had ever laid eyes on.”

“You are just saying that because you thought I had a great ass.”

“It is a great ass.” He said eyeing me up and down, a sly smirk on his face. “We should get going. It’s already raining cats and dogs.” Jisung paid for our meal and shoved his black hat back on my head with a smile, draping his arm over my shoulder as we walked out. He was correct. The rain was pelting down on the streets like bullets. “You ever been kissed in the rain?” He asked out of nowhere.

That mischievous smile glowed on Jisung’s face. “No, why?” 

Without another word, Jisung pulled me out into the rain, soaking us both. His brown hair turned dark and stuck to his forehead as he pulled down my mask. My eyes glanced around the nearly empty street, before staring back into Jisung’s bright eyes. His long fingers lifted up my chin before resting on my cheek. The cool rain dropped around us, but I felt warm in his arms. 

His lips dragged over mine, butterflies thundering in my stomach along with the rumble in the sky. My chest pressed against his, the wet fabric rubbing together. His teeth cheekily dragged over my bottom lip as I pulled away. 

“Get out of the street!” Someone yelled honking their horn. Jisung and I turned to see a car’s headlights shining through the rain. We laughed and moved back under the awning. ��Crazy kids!” The man yelled as he drove passed us. 

I kissed Jisung again, tangling my fingers in his wet hair. “I love you,” Jisung whispered, pulling away. “All of you,” His hands ghosted over the curve of my hips. “Do you love all of me?” 

“More than anything, Jisung.” 

The cool rain sent a breeze under the cover. He pulled me closer to him kissing the top of my head. “Home?” He muttered looking around the wet street. 

“Home.” 

I pulled the dark fabric over his face, leaving nothing but his round lively eyes for me to see. His warm hand enveloped mine before we ran through the rain. Our feet splashed through puddles as each step brought us closer to the train that would carry us back to our little apartment.

✯

Bright light streamed through the bedroom window. An arm was wrapped tightly around my stomach. I smiled and shifted under the blanket so I could look at the handsome face of the man next to me. My eyes glanced at the clock before reaching over and stroking his hair. 

“Jisung?” 

He hummed, nestling into the pillow. I smiled feeling him reach for my hand and bring it to his lips. Drowsy kisses from his plump tired lips trailed over my skin. “You saying my name in the morning is so sexy.” My laugh filled the bedroom. His raspy voice never failed to send shivers down my spine.

“You think anything I say is sexy.” Jisung’s eyes slowly opened and his hands moved to rub his face, the muscles in his arms flexing ever so slightly. My fingers traced patterns over his bare chest, the skin radiating a welcoming warmth under my touch. 

“No way. Prove it.” He said with a goofy smile. 

Chuckling, I kissed his cheek. I thought about what to say. Leaning down, my breath fanned across his cheek. “I have to go shopping because we have no ramen left in the kitchen.” My words floated into his ear and I could see his cheeks redden at my tone. 

Jisung groaned, pulling me fully on top of him. “Yeah, you were right. Anything you say is sexy.” He laid still for a moment, his hands rubbing up and down my back. “Do you need money for groceries?” He hummed. Shaking my head, I sat up, legs falling on either side of his waist. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Ji. You don’t have to pay for everything, you know.” He laid back with a smile on his face, hands behind his head. Jisung stared up at me keeping that sleepy bright grin on his face. “You should get up. You’ll be late before you know it.” 

A sigh heaved from his chest as he watched me leave the bed. It was evident his eyes were trained on me as I sorted through our shared closet. “You’re right.” The rustling of sheets told me he was shuffling out of bed and most likely towards the bathroom to shower.

Soon I was walking Jisung to the cab he had called down in front of our building. The fabric of my leggings brushed together as I rushed forward pulling him back for one more kiss before he entered the taxi. “Don’t forget, we have a date with pizza and a drama tonight,” I whispered against his lips. 

His long fingers gripped my waist, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. His warm touch slipped into the waistband leaving something paperlike between the tight fabric and my skin. “For the groceries.” Jisung pecked my lips before getting into the cab. “Love you!” He called, rolling down the window. 

Waving back, I watched the car pull away from the curb and drive my boyfriend to his company. Curious, I reached for the money he slipped me. Had I worn a hoodie and not a crop top, he wouldn’t have been able to do so easily. It was a habit he had of spoiling me and paying for things despite my protests. “Good grief, Ji,” I muttered to the near empty street. 

My feet carried me to a nearby supermarket. I walked the aisles tossing anything we needed into the cart I picked up at the entrance. My hands lingered on a bag of chips, debating whether I actually needed the study snack. Jisung never cared how much weight I put on or how much I lost. I was confident in how I looked, so I wanted chips. I would get chips. Smiling I tossed them in the basket before moving to the next aisle to pick up a few bottles of wine and soju. I never knew when Chan and Changbin would pop by for a ‘lyric session’ and need ‘inspiration’ 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two girls whispering and looking my way. More than a year with Jisung had taught me to have an observant eye in public places whether he was with me or not. They stopped their talk when I turned to look at them. After placing the bottle in my cart I waved to them with a kind smile before going on my way. 

Jisung returned later than usual. But, then again. There was no usual for when he came home. He passed out on the couch while I ordered us a pizza. While I waited, I lazily scrolled through twitter until something caught my eye. 

“Rapper Han Jisung Spotted With Supposed Secret Girlfriend” 

My eyes skimmed the article searching for any proof. My heart sunk finding what I sought. Several pictures of Jisung and me from the day before were shown below. Our faces were seen as clear as day despite the rain. We should have been more careful. I sighed, head in my hands. Curious, I scrolled to see what his fans were saying.

“I can’t believe this”

“So he really was seeing someone?”

“She’s so fat! She doesn’t deserve him”

“My friend and I saw her at the supermarket. She had like eight bottles of soju in her cart. Alcoholism puts on wait you know.”

“She’s a drunk and fat. I can’t believe she’s dating our Han.” 

“She looks like a cow. Seriously I understand why he hid her from us.” 

“Guys, stop. If he is happy then leave him alone.”

“He looks disgusted in those photos”

“Does she not care about herself? She’s dating one of the greatest rappers in the industry and she looks like a heavy slob.”

I tossed my phone onto the kitchen counter, not wanting to look a the comments anymore. My shoulders felt heavier than usual. Shower. A hot shower always made me feel better. Abandoning my device, which was blowing up with notifications, on the counter I marched to the bathroom and turned on the water letting steam fill the room. 

The scalding water pelted against my bare skin as I stood under the showerhead. After my skin turned red, I stepped out of the shower, wiping steam away from the mirror. 

My eyes raked over the body I once thought beautiful. How could my mind change so quickly? The curves I used to love now seemed ghastly and unflattering. The rolls on my stomach seemed more prominent as I looked over my bare body. My fingers traced over the waved marks on my thighs and pelvis, wondering how I never noticed them before today. 

“Y/n, baby?” A knock sounded at the door but did not wait for an answer to open. Instinctively, my hands slammed it shut shocking the man on the other side. “Woah- Babe, what’s wrong? Are you okay? It’s nothing I haven’t seen many many many times before.” The smirk in his voice was evident, but I still felt exposed, despite the towel I moved to wrap around myself. 

“Just go away. I’ll be out in a sec. There is beer and soju in the fridge. Go get one; the pizza will be here soon.” 

I waited until I heard Jisung walk away before turning the knob and sneaking into our bedroom. My fingers grasped at the first baggy shirt I could find, but looking in the mirror it hugged in places that should not be hugged and made my body look lumpy and fat. Throwing on some leggings and one of Jisung’s fluffy jackets I decided this was enough coverage suitable to walk around in.

Jisung’s eyes widened when I entered the living room. “Wow. You planning an expedition to Antarctica?” 

“I’m just cold, Jisung.” He watched with wary eyes as I pull the jacket further around my body. The doorbell rang turning both our heads. “I’ll get it.” Jisung nodded and picked up the remote, turning on the TV. 

Opening the door I expected to see a pizza delivery man waiting for his tip, but instead, the hallway was empty. Before I closed the door, my gaze landed on something on the welcome mat. 

A bouquet of wilted, dried, dead flowers. A ribbon darker than black was wrapped around the fragile stems. With shaking hands, I picked up the flowers. Petals and leaves fell to the ground. A note was tucked between the graying stems. 

Fat Bitch.

Subconsciously, I pulled the jacket around my body, covering as much as possible. “Y/n? Everything okay? They didn’t forget my garlic knots, right? They forgot last time.” Jisung’s voice called out. My eyes still stared down at the bouquet in my hands. “Baby?”

I felt cold. It felt like I wasn’t in my own body; like my soul had left this world leaving me a shell standing with no will of its own. 

“What the fuck is this?”

Shaking myself out of the trance, I looked to see Jisung standing beside me anger flooding every inch of him. Not waiting for an explanation he took the bouquet from my hands, more petals falling to the floor. The note seemed to make him even angrier. 

“Fuck,”

I closed the door and watched him throw the flowers onto the counter, sending dead leaves flying across the kitchen floor. He turned to me, fury in his eyes. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. “We both knew this was going to happen sooner or later.” His jaw dropped, not believing my words. 

“You aren’t furious? You aren’t pissed off? Why are you not bothered by this?” 

“Jisung, I can’t be bothered by something I already know is true!” 

He stared at the flowers littering the counter. “You can’t possibly think that...can you?” Jisung sighed watching me shrug and fiddle with the sleeves of his jacket. “Y/n...this is not you. What happened to the girl who surprised me in my studio wearing nothing but a trench coat and lingerie just because I said I missed your smile?” My gaze fell to the floor, fixated on one of the leaves. “Where’s the girl who went skinny dipping with me on the night of our anniversary in Jeju?” 

“I don’t know, Jisung!” He was shocked hearing me yell. “They are right! Okay! I am a fat cow with no reason to be dating you. I’m not sexy and skinny and I don’t have the body of a model. You know who does? The girl you should be dating! Maybe I just don’t like myself anymore!” 

“The Y/n I know and love didn’t care how much she weighed.” 

“Well...maybe I’m not your Y/n anymore.”

“That I don’t believe.” Jisung took my face in his hands, staring into my eyes. “I know about the photos. I know about the comments. They are all false, okay? None of them are true and you know it.” His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, voice full of desperation and sadness. 

“Jisung, I’m not beautiful. I don’t feel beautiful anymore. I don’t see how you can love someone who can’t even see themselves as pretty.” 

He sighed, leaning down and capturing my lips in a breathtaking kiss. I could feel all his emotions, everything he wanted to say as his lips moved against mine. Jisung pulled away, his eyes looking lovingly into my own. “I don’t love you because you are beautiful,” He whispered, pushing a strand of wet hair behind my ear. “You are beautiful because I love you. All of you.”

“Even the stretch marks?” 

“The stretch marks. The curves. All of you.” 

Sighing, I rested my head against his chest. “Why did I even think that?” Jisung let out a shaky breath stroking my still damp hair. “Shit, I was so stupid to believe those comments for even a second.” 

“I can’t blame you. I’ve done the same.” 

Pulling away, my hands cupped his cheeks before moving to wrap around his neck. “I love you,”

“I love you more.” Jisung kissed my forehead, dark hair falling in front of his eyes. A thought came to mind that made me giggle. “What?” He asked with a smile, leading me back over to the couch. 

“How did you even remember that studio thing? That was like...in the first month we were dating!” 

He laughed, pulling me into his chest and falling back onto the sofa. “Are you kidding? That may have been the single greatest day of my entire life.”

“You are just a pervert.” Again the doorbell rang, causing both of our heads to peek over the top of the couch cushions. “Can you get it?” Jisung nodded and got out from under me. A few moments later he came back with two pizzas and his beloved garlic knots. “They didn’t forget?” 

“Nope!” He said happily flipping open the boxes. “Here.” He pulled one away and fed it to me, the fluffy breading melting in my mouth. 

“You know what I think?” 

“What?” He asked already somehow halfway through the box of garlic knots.

“I think I can eat this entire pizza faster than you.” 

He closed the garlic knot box, a wry grin on his face. “Oh, you are so on, babe.” He planted his feet firmly on the floor and turned to his pizza box. “Ready? Three....two....-” Before he finished counting down I grabbed a slice and stuffed it in my mouth. “Y/n that’s cheating!” Between bites, I laughed as I watched him try and catch up from my early start. 

“Come on, twig boy! Catch up.” He laughed and shoved another slice into his mouth filling his cheeks.

✯

Requests are Temporarily Closed! Sorrrrrryyyy

Masterlist

[writingsfromstarfleet]

Leonard McCoy - Guilt

♫ - Mars - Sleeping At Last

For @space-cowboy2227, I hope you enjoy and this is what you wanted! You lot as always, thank you for reading! Hugs! ♡

TW/CW: Survivors guilt and PTSD are running themes, if these make you uncomfortable then please skip this one! 

Vulcan had been your home for some while, though you were not Vulcan yourself. Your studies had granted you time on many different planets, there to study the way their society worked and culture as a whole. Though, despite your time on other planets, there was just something about Vulcan that drew you to stay. Once your studies were complete, you returned and had resided there since. Two years later and you had remained.

There was something about Vulcan that kept you there. So much about it was beautiful. The colours of the planet were all sorts reds, greens and browns. The natural environment was made up of jutted rock formations, most of its surface covered in large deserts and mountain ranges. Bodies of water and rivers broke up the land. Your favourite parts of the landscapes were the volcanoes, some active and some not, alongside the ancient ruins and lava fields.

These were all things you were forced to remember about the planet you had come to call your home. Distant memories were all you had left.

Fire and death had replaced every good thought you had about Vulcan. Needless bloodshed all for the sake of revenge. A less than understandable motivation, more so now than ever. You were there the day it happened, the day Nero had drilled into the surface all in the name of vengeance. People died around you, in front of you, Vulcans and non-Vulcans alike. You were told fewer than ten thousand people on Vulcan had survived; most of those you'd held dear were dead. Images of that day flashed through your mind each day, unable to escape the thoughts.

You had ended up aboard the Enterprise, a Federation starship sent by Starfleet in an attempt to help Vulcan stop Nero's attack. They did, they managed to destroy his own ship, the Narada, but just a little too late. The ship's doctor, a man named Leonard McCoy, was the man to treat your injuries.

"There, you'll be fine," his voice was low, not unkind. You failed to say anything, you hadn't since you got into sickbay, and the doctor was rather worried. "Are you alright, Y/N? I mean, I can understand you bein' quiet and all, but are you alright?"

His voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you feigned a smile at him.

"I am, thank you, Doctor."

"Yeah, you look it," he raised an eyebrow. In a sincere voice, Leonard spoke again. "I'm a doctor, not a psychic, but I can absolutely see you ain't alright. I'm here if you need anything, just come on in and I'll help you with what you need."

Each night was a struggle to fall asleep, to even get any form of relaxation; memories and recollections plagued your waking thoughts, and your subconscious was no better. You were unmotivated to do anything, barely leaving your quarters unless you had to. Feelings of sickness and isolation overwhelmed you at times.

The gravity of Leonard's words didn't hit you until your worst night. Waking up with a start, you were in tears, and decided to take the doctor up on his offer.

Making your way from your guest quarters, you navigated the ship as best you could, still a little unsure of what was where; you hadn't seen a ship the size of the Enterprise before, she was beautiful. You only wish you had been aboard for better, happier reasons. Eventually, you found yourself at the doors to sickbay, hoping Leonard was still in there. In your scared state, you failed to acknowledge that these were indeed sleeping hours.

Opening the door, you slowly padded in to see a small light in the office, making your way over with a light foot. Knocking, you waited for any answer from inside.

"Come in." A gruff, tired voice sounded, and you did so.

The door opened to reveal the handsome doctor, hunched over his desk with a dim light above him illuminating the room and setting a rather pensive mood. A pair of shining eyes made their way up to your own, eyeing you with a curiosity; Leonard most certainly wasn't used to visitors at such an hour.

"Oh," he realised he hadn't spoke, so he stood and motioned for you to enter, inviting you in. "Please. What can I do for you?"

As you stepped in, you sat on the chair that was free and now in the light, Leonard could see your tear stained face, eyes red and puffy. He looked down apologetically, kneeling down in front of you.

"I- I-" you stuttered, unable to get your sentence out for fear of your voice breaking. Luckily, Leonard interrupted you, saving both an awkward sentence and an uncomfortable silence.

"I know, I understand."

"It was horrible, doctor. I can't put it out of mind, every time I close my eyes all I can see is the destruction. I feel so guilty, Leonard, there were people I knew, people I cared about, that didn't survive. I lost everybody, and still I managed to survive. A part of me thinks I shouldn't have..."

Your string of words had fallen off its trail as Leonard placed a hand on your shoulder, noticing the silent tears that began to fall down your cheeks once more.

"You absolutely should be here, Y/N. Please, don't ever think that you shouldn't be. Survivor's guilt is not uncommon, especially when someone's gone through what you have. It makes you no less worthy to be here. We'll get through it though, right? Together."

You looked up from your lap and stopped twiddling your thumbs. Seeing Leonard give you a small smile, you nodded, albeit a little half-heartedly.

"Is there any getting through this?" Your words were whispered, and he frowned slightly, not liking seeing you upset. He brought his hand from your shoulder and took one of your own in his. The other came to rest on your knee.

"Yes, there is. It will take time, and a lot of patience, but you can do it. Hell, we can do it. I'll work with you for as long as it takes. There's steps for things like this, and I'm gonna make a promise to you now, that you'll be alright in the end. Fully healed and moved on? Perhaps not. But better and healthier? Certainly. You don't deserve this; none of you do."

Leonard had moved his eyes from yours and instead was looking at the hand he held in his. You looked at his face, and in the light, you could see how he felt. He was upset himself, almost pained, and you instinctively took his other hand.

"Are you alright, doctor? You yourself seem... a little down" you asked softly.

"I uh, I'll share something with you. I have a.. a friend," he began, still not looking up at you. "He's a Vulcan, and he works on this ship. He's just lost his mother. Now, we fight tooth and nail and we never agree on nothin', but I still don't want to see him the way he is. He's struggling, as much as a Vulcan will let on, but he refuses help, citing his own peoples traditions as coping mechanisms instead. So, if I can't help him then I'm damn well gonna help everyone else."

As he spoke, you could see in each word that he was serious. Very serious. You placed a hand on his cheek, drawing his head up to you. Your eyes were watery, and so were his. Leonard looked at you just as you had him when you first arrived. Bringing him forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close.

"I swear," he said quietly. "I swear I'll help you be alright."

Pulling yourself back, you looked him dead in the eye, eyes still brimming with tears as you let your emotions free. Cupping his face, you wiped some of the stray tears that fell down Leonard's face too, a side of himself he rarely chose to show. In the face of such tragedy, however, it was hard not to. Taking comfort in each other, you whispered your reply.

"Thank you."

You stayed with Leonard in his office that night, sitting whilst he worked, both of you taking solace in the other's presence. From that day on, you vowed to work on recovery, knowing that with Leonard's support, you could accomplish anything.

[ichigo-daifuku]

To Dye For

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Toya & Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Family Genre: Gen, Angst, Canon Compliant, Random Encounters, Character Study Word Count: 1.6k | AO3 Link

Synopsis: Natsuo encounters a mysterious man in the hair care products aisle at the grocery store.

Warning: The following contains mild spoilers for the Endeavor Agency Arc and the Paranormal Liberation War Arc.

Natsuo stared at his reflection in the mirror and frowned.

As a college student, hustle and bustle filled his everyday life. He attended classes, studied diligently, moved from one deadline to another, and participated in extracurricular activities. It was a lot to get used to at first, but the newfound freedom he had was nothing short of amazing. He could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Natsuo had spare time, he would usually spend it going on dates with his girlfriend or visiting Rei at the hospital together with Fuyumi. As of late, however, he had little time to do either. School activities had caused his schedule to become more hectic. The upcoming final exams would signal the end of the academic year, and Natsuo had a lot of tasks to accomplish in preparation for them.

He had been so preoccupied with his responsibilities that before he knew it, the streaks at the sides of his hair had grown crimson.

Growing up, Natsuo detested the crimson strands on his head. He didn’t mind how they stood out against his predominantly white hair at first, but as his hatred for his father grew, the sentiment spread to the biological traits he inherited from him. He loathed how those crimson streaks were the same shade as his father’s. In time, Natsuo despised how their resemblance was uncanny. People had always pointed out how his face and frame looked like a younger version of Enji. It was one of his pet peeves.

Natsuo would never forget how, for a long while, he was prohibited from visiting his mother at the hospital because she couldn’t bear to see him. He reminded her too much of Enji, even though his father was as good as a stranger to him. Natsuo wasn’t like him at all, but even if that was the truth, his physical appearance alone was an undeniable indication that he was his son.

When he was in his early teens, he started bleaching and dyeing the six streaks of his hair white. He had a way to lessen his likeness to his father, and he took the opportunity to do so. Now, truth be told, Natsuo had come to the point where he was unused to seeing his crimson hair. It was an odd feeling, but he had learned to live with it.

In retrospect, he should’ve requested a touch-up last week when he went for a haircut at the barbershop, but he had been in a rush. He disliked freeloaders and didn’t want to be one, so he prioritized attending the group meeting he had instead. With a sigh, he shook his head but didn’t regret his choice. He considered dropping by the barbershop again but thought otherwise. He could do it by himself. It had been a while since he had done the bleaching process on his own, but it was simple enough. He could do it.

Natsuo slipped his navy blue coat on and went on his way to the grocery store near his dormitory. The winter chill felt soothing and nice against his skin. It eased his mind and relieved the stress he was under, and he felt glad he decided to go out today.

At the grocery store, he proceeded to the aisle of hair care products and grabbed his favorite brand of hair bleach kit. He hummed to the tune of the music playing through the speakers and looked around, wondering if the hair bleach kit would suffice since he had the other products he needed in the dormitory. Now that he thought about it, he could do some grocery shopping as well. He should get a shopping cart.

A fellow customer entered the area he was standing on. The lanky man wore a hooded jacket that covered the majority of his face. He had his hands inside his pockets as he browsed the shelves.

The man seemed to be someone around Natsuo’s age, more or less. Natsuo was taller than him but granted, he was taller and burlier than most of his peers. He wondered if he was also a college student like him and, if so, if he attended the same institution he did. Natsuo attempted to catch a glimpse of the man’s face but failed. The stranger wore sunglasses, obscuring his features even further, except for the ebony hair hanging across his forehead. Although uncertain, Natsuo considered the possibility of this stranger’s covered-up attire being connected to his Quirk.

With a gloved hand, the man picked up a box of black hair dye and read the description on the packaging.

Oh, no, Natsuo thought, Anything but that one.

“Hey, man,” Natsuo called, approaching the stranger in a friendly manner. “I wouldn’t recommend that brand. The quality isn’t very good.”

The man stiffened but, nevertheless, replied, “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I used that brand when I dyed my hair blond when I was younger, and it completely faded after a few washes.”

“Why?”

“Well, as I said, the quality is—”

“Not that,” the man interjected, not bothering to face Natsuo fully, “Why would you dye your hair blond?”

“Ah, well… to piss my old man off,” Natsuo admitted.

“Why?”

“He has this… rivalry with a certain blond man, so he hates him. I thought it would irritate him.”

Natsuo was oversharing, and he knew it. His hand came up to rub the nape of his neck as he chuckled in mild embarrassment. He had nothing to be embarrassed about when he was just answering the man’s question, right?

To his surprise, the man probed, curious about his story, “And? Did it do the trick?”

“Nah.” Natsuo shook his head. “He just glared at me for a bit and went back to pretending I don’t exist.”

The man let out a humorless chuckle. “Figures.”

Looking back, Natsuo realized how petty of a prank that was. Of course, the man would think so, too. “Yeah.”

There was a lull in the conversation. The man shifted his head to look at Natsuo.

Natsuo was unable to see the man’s face due to his sunglasses, but he could feel his eyes as they traveled from the hair bleach kit in his hand and then to his hair.

The stranger’s shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh. He turned away and placed the low-quality hair dye back on the shelf.

Natsuo scanned the items near him and pointed to a certain section. “If you’d like a really good hair dye, this is the brand I’d recommend.”

“There’s no need.” At a leisurely pace, the man turned around and made his way to the shelf across them, grabbing a medium-sized bottle.

Hair dye remover, Natsuo noted, which made no sense to him. Wasn’t he looking for hair dye?

The man inspected the item in his hand and put it inside his pocket.

Natsuo’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him. “Hey, what do you think you’re—”

Ignoring his question, the man stepped closer to Natsuo, and with amusement laced in his voice, spoke, “Make sure to watch the news, okay?”

Natsuo froze. Why did this person seem almost… familiar?

“See you around,” the man said and walked away, “Todoroki Natsuo.”

Alarm bells rang inside Natsuo’s head. This stranger called him by his full name. He had never introduced himself nor was he wearing anything that would give away his identity.

The second Natsuo was able to collect his thoughts and get over his initial panic, he ran after the man to question him, but he was nowhere to be found. The security alarms didn’t go off despite the man stealing something from the grocery store, his escape successful.

Natsuo reported the shoplifting incident to a staff member. Since the man’s physical appearance was too obscured, the authorities had very little clue to his identity. They recorded the theft but could do nothing much about it, ultimately deciding to watch out for similar incidents from now on. When they asked Natsuo if there was anything else he had to say, Natsuo contemplated it but chose not to inform the authorities of the fact that the man knew his identity and was, most likely, after him.

On his way back to the dormitory, Natsuo clutched the handle of the paper bag of hair products in his fist, wary of his surroundings. He couldn’t help it. Having been targeted and attacked by a villain in the past, he had to stay vigilant. Moreover, why did that person tell him to watch the news? The crime he committed was theft—a petty one at that—and would hardly be worth a headline.

Still, it worried Natsuo. He sent Fuyumi a message subtly informing her of his whereabouts in case something happens to him. Not wanting to cause her unnecessary panic, he decided to leave out the details of the encounter he had at the grocery store. He’d tell her later, but for now, he reminded her to take care of herself. Shoto was at U.A., at least, he would be fine there. Rei would be safe at the hospital while Endeavor could handle himself.

Natsuo boarded the train and sat down. He set his elbows on his knees and shut his eyes, the pads of the fingertips of his right hand gently touching their counterparts on his left as he leaned forward and bowed his head, lost in thought.

Who was that man?

The question plagued his mind for a long time but held no answer.

Notes: This was supposed to be a humorous fic… but here we are.

When I was writing this story, I thought a lot about that panel in Chapter 302 where Rei said she “started seeing hints of [Enji] in the children’s faces,” and while Shoto’s left side was shown, Natsuo’s entire face was beside him.

I hope you’re all enjoying Season 5 so far. Thank you for reading! ♡

BNHA Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #104: Geronimo

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making FGO’s best (by default) Native American servant, Geronimo! He’s a skilled tracker and summoner, but still finds the time to be able to gut people with daggers and arrows. Good for him, it’s nice to have hobbies.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy

Race and Background

Geronimo’s a variant human, giving him +1 Wisdom and Dexterity, Survival proficiency, and the Weapon Master feat. That last bit gives him an extra +1 Dexterity, plus proficiency with four extra weapons of your choice, as long as they’re simple or martial. (Not entirely sure what that leaves out, to be honest.) Definitely pick up some bows though, we won’t be able to get those from your classes.

You’re a medicine man, but the closest we’ve got for backgrounds is Acolyte, so we’ll make due. This gives you proficiency in Insight and Religion.

Ability Scores

Your Wisdom should be as high as possible. You track, you notice things, and you cast spells. That’s all wisdom. After that is Intelligence. Nature’s an Int skill for some reason, and you’re pretty smart in general. After that is Dexterity; you’re good with knives and bows, that’s all dex. Also-like many servants, calling what you normally wear light armor would be a generous statement. Your Constitution isn’t bad, you survive getting stabbed pretty well. Your Strength is a little low, but you don’t really need it that much. Finally, dump Charisma. It’s not that you’re unlikeable, you’re just not the kind of guy who takes center stage.

Class Levels

1. Rogue 1: You’re going to be a druid eventually, but rogues get more skills and you’re pretty skilled so... 

First level rogues get proficiency with Dexterity and Intelligence saves, as well as four rogue skills. Grab Stealth, Perception, Intimidation and Investigation. You can sneak up on people, track them down, and scare the crap out of them. Not necessarily in that order.

You also get Expertise in Stealth and Survival, doubling your proficiency bonus with those skills. You can also make a Sneak Attack while using finesse or ranged weapons, gaining extra damage when you attack creatures you have advantage over or are distracted by other enemies. 

You also learn how to speak Thieves’ Cant. It’s a language.

2. Druid 1: Bouncing over to druid learns you some Druidic, as well as how to cast and prepare Spells, based on your Wisdom. You get Guidance and Thunderclap as your cantrips, but like most casters you’re pretty flexible when it comes to your other spells. Since you can prepare spells each day I’m not even going to bother bringing them up in text unless they’re absolutely vital to the build.

As a rule of thumb, healing, tracking, or Things That Could Feasibly Be Done Without Magic spells are a solid pick, but you are a caster, so feel free to go nuts.

3. Druid 2: Second level druids join a druid circle, and the circle of the Shepherd will help you summon totem spirits and support your party. You can use Wild Shape twice per short rest, turning into a beast of cr 1/4 or lower that can’t fly or swim as an action. You can’t cast spells as an animal, but you can concentrate on them. Alternatively, you can spend a wild shape use to find a Wild Companion, effectively casting Find Familiar without a spell slot. In this case, the familiar only lasts a number of hours equal to your druid level. 

As a shepherd, you learn the Speech of the Woods, learning Sylvan and gaining the ability to talk to animals. You can also summon a Spirit Totem as a bonus action once per short rest, creating a spirit with a 30′ aura for a minute. Spirits fit into three categories- while they come with animals already attached, you can feel free to flavor them however you see fit. The bear spirit gives creatures of your choice in its aura temporary hp and advantage on strength checks and saves. The hawk spirit lets you use your reaction to grant advantage on an attack against creatures in the aura, and giving you and your allies advantage on perception checks while in its aura. Finally, the unicorn spirit grants advantage on all checks to detect creatures within the aura, and using healing spells inside or outside the aura also heals all creatures within the aura a number of hit points equal to your druid level.

4. Rogue 2: Now that we have one subclass, let’s grab another. First, you have to get a Cunning Action, letting you dash, disengage, or hide as a bonus action.

5. Rogue 3: Again, trying to avoid beating around the bush here; you’re a Scout, getting the peanut butter of ranger all up in rogue’s chocolate. Scouts are Skrimishers, allowing you to react when a creature ends its turn within 5′ of you to move half your speed without provoking attacks. You’re also a Survivalist, doubling your proficiency bonus in Nature and Survival, as well as making you proficient in both skills. This and expertise are not exclusive, so have fun with that +12 to tracking.

You also have the optional feature Steady Aim, spending all your movement as a bonus action to gain advantage on your next attack. 

6. Rogue 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Dexterity for a better AC and better attacks.

7. Druid 3: Third level druids get second level spells. Enhance Ability replicates your entire skillset with a single spell, giving advantage to all of a creature’s ability checks in one category. You can also use Moonbeam now, a (literal) pale reflection of your noble phantasm.

8. Druid 4: If you’re still eager to break character despite your alternative uses for wild shape, Wild Shape Improvement lets you transform into beasts of CR 1/2 or lower, and swimming creatures are now on the table. You also get another ASI, so bump up your Wisdom for stronger spells and better tracking.

You also get a new cantrip, Druidcraft is just plain useful, and you’ll be able to ruin your DM’s attempts at making things more dramatic on the fly.

9. Rogue 5: Fifth level rogues get an Uncanny Dodge, using their reaction to halve the damage from a single attack. Armor isn’t really your thing, so any kind of damage mitigation is a smart move.

10. Rogue 6: Use your second round of expertise to improve your Perception and Intimidation. You’re scary, and good at being a lookout.

11. Rogue 7: Your Evasion means that you’re now really good at dexterity saves; failed saves deal half damage, successful ones deal none.

12. Druid 5: Fifth level druids get third level spells. Not much else is happening here.

13. Druid 6: Shepherd druids are Mighty Summoners, giving your summoned beasts and fey more HP and magical attacks for overcoming resistances. You’re summoning the guardian spirit of your people, they should be better than the average coyote.

14. Druid 7: Congrats on the fourth level spells! Moving on.

15. Rogue 8: Use this ASI to bump your Dexterity up even further to be the sneakiest and stabbiest you can be.

16. Rogue 9: Ninth level scouts get Superior Mobility, giving you an extra 10 feet of movement. This can also be applied to your swimming and climbing speeds, which you won’t have unless you wild shape.

17. Druid 8: Eighth level druids get one last Wild Shape Improvement, increasing your max CR to 1 and removing all other limitations on your wild shape. You also get one last ASI, so bump up your Constitution for a bit more health.

18. Druid 9: Level 5 spells, nice.

19. Druid 10: Remember how I said in the last shepherd feature that you’re summoning the guardian spirit of your people? Now you’re actually doing that. When you summon a Guardian Spirit, summoned beasts and fey that end their turn in the totem’s aura regain half your druid level in HP.

You also get one last cantrip. Gust will help break up any cloud-based hazards you have to deal with, and hide your skywriting.

20. Druid 11: Our final level gets you level 6 spells, and we actually have one to talk about this time! You finally get Sunbeam to fully complete your noble phantasm.

Pros:

Your high stealth and animal army makes it very easy to sneak around in combat. Set up your own distraction, pick off enemies with sneak attacks, and the rare few who notice you will still have to eat a dozen attacks of opportunity if they try to go after you.

Survivalist and Expertise stacking is just silly, quadrupling your survival proficiency. We didn’t stick around rogue long enough for Reliable Talent, but a +28 to tracking is good enough that it doesn’t matter. If something physically exists, you’ll probably be able to track it down.

Mixing Wild Shape with a rogue’s damage avoiding abilities makes you really hard to kill, especially if the enemy’s distracted by your pets.

Cons:

Mixing in rogue gave you some solid weapon attacks, but it also removed your higher level spells. This means you miss out on stuff like Planeshift and True Ressurection. Shooting people really hard is nice, but it might not outweigh the cost here.

Defensively Rogue/Druid mixing is fine, but it’s not as great on offense. Wild Shape and Sneak Attack do not mix at all. 

Summoning spells and your Noble Phantasms (Sun/Moonbeam) are both concentration spells. Unless you wild shape, your constitution isn’t that great, plus you’ll have to pick and choose what you’re doing.

[darkmindsotome]

Traditional Etiquette

Title: Traditional Etiquette

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Kei Soejima x MC

Word count: 4,189

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: Your job leads you to being in attendance at the same festive location as your boyfriend. What will happen on this holy night when you are reunited with the man who turned his back on God and this holiday?

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #1: Kiss me under the Mistletoe

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Traditional Etiquette

There was a different kind of chill in the air compared to the winters back home. It probably had something to do with the humidity. The wind here felt cutting against your skin making any exposed part sting in the air.

Space heaters had been placed around the grounds of the immaculately decorated historic house in an attempt to keep guests as far from the wintery chill as possible. Pulling the warm cashmere shawl tighter around my shoulders I made a few calculations trying to decide on the best way to make my exit.

Currently tucked safely inside my garter was a necklace once owned by an Empress. A gift from her husband and currently missing from a collection on display in the London National Museum. On the verge of an international incident that could easily turn into something involving military responses, the EAC had been contacted.

Thanks to the new assignment any plans I had for the holidays were dashed. Curse of a spy strikes again.

Naturally, the fallout from such a disaster was something everyone wished to avoid but that did nothing to improve my mood. The officials and museum had put a truly incredible replica on display to buy some breathing room in order to retrieve the original. Time was unforgiving and it was an inevitable fact that eventually the fake would be found out. This was a race against the clock.

I could still remember the way Kei looked at me the night I received the call.

“Ha-ha, your face is a picture.” His apparent joy as he watched me and my inner turmoil felt completely out of place.

We were in his rooms at Raven in Tokyo, sipping brandy tea with some low music playing in the background when my phone rang disturbing the peace.

“Well excuse me.” Glaring at him, I ended up drinking the brandy tea in my hands almost in one go as I attempted to avoid his all-seeing eyes.

I knew my inner disappointment at how the holidays were already a disaster before they started was on full display but I was trying hard to hide it. I mean it's normal to want to spend the holidays with your partner, right?

While I sulked Kei chuckled, his eyes never leaving me for a second.

“Will you really miss me that much?”

The sound of fine china being placed on the coffee table forced me to look at him. There was a smile on his face that was far from innocent as he stood from his seat and drew slowly closer. Instead of simply moving next to me he lulled me into a false sense of security and circled around my back leaning over so his mouth was millimetres from my ear.

A move that had the world around us blocked from thought as well as my ability to process the information I just received from work. He was demanding my full attention, commanding me to focus only on him.

“Someone is forgetting something very important.” His voice was low and dripping in that sensual honey-like poison that instantly set my heart racing. Cool hands snaked over my shoulders treating me to a massage that felt far more intense than it really was. “No matter where you are, what you do, who you’re with… I am always right here.” The chilled digits slipped further, deftly circumvented the fabric of my blouse. The teasing patterns he mapped out against my hidden body had me warming to the slightest of touches.

“…Kei.” His name ended up escaping me in a near whisper. How easy was it to fall under his spell? Two could play that game.

Taking one of his hands I brought it to my lips kissing the flesh between his fingers, dragging my tongue across the knuckles before giving them a nip with my teeth. I heard his breath catch behind me. I couldn’t see how his eyes had darkened with lust but I knew he was feeling me and that knowledge was enough to thrill me.

He guided his now marked hand to my lips, brushing them with his fingertips before pushing them inside stroking my tongue and the inside of my mouth. My head naturally tilted back catching a glimpse of the awoken devil behind me. It was then that I knew this was only the beginning.

“That’s right. Be my good girl…”

I suddenly felt flushed with the memory of that night. It was the last one we spent together before starting this mission. It wasn’t as if we had specific plans for the holiday. If anything, it was a time of year Kei usually spent avoiding the celebratory atmosphere. We might not share the same associations with the festivities but it didn’t mean I didn’t still want to spend time with him.

The idea of him sitting in his rooms at Raven. Large fire crackling, spiced cider in hand and the way the light would settle on him as he quietly read. It was a comforting image that brought a smile to my face.

Looking around the glamourous gathering with the twinkling lights and elegant festive decorations I suddenly felt very lonely. I wanted to leave, to get a flight out of here as fast as possible. The weight of precious metal and gems concealed under my dress was a reassuring reminder of a job well done. Still, it wouldn’t do to be so close to the end and have it all fall apart because I let my guard down too early.

Glancing around to make sure everyone was suitably distracted I made my move only to then bump into someone behind me.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” I instantly apologised. Curiosity rose as I wondered who could have moved so near to me that I didn’t even sense them.

“Completely my fault, Miss.” An all too familiar voice speaks up before I had a chance to even look.

“Kei?” His name comes all too easily to me. I instantly end up looking to see if anyone else had heard my faux pas.

“My apologies I was drawn to you and found myself at a complete loss of words.” Kei casually covers for me whilst treating me to his Princely performance. “Where are my manners? Kei Soejima at your service.” With a half-bow he scooped up my right hand, placing a featherlight kiss to the back of it.

“Lily Dunaway, a pleasure to meet you Mr Soejima.” I greet him with my alias and a smile that expertly hides any of my surprise at finding him here of all places.

Kei is far from stupid. He both knows I am on a mission and also what my alias is for work. I watch as he gracefully takes two glass flutes from a passing waiter.

“Champagne? Or were you perhaps looking for something else?” Narrowing my eyes at his suggestive comment for a second, I then accept one of the offered glasses.

“Champagne would be fine, thank you.” Playing the part of the perfect agent I timed my sip to his. “I have to wonder what small miracle would bring such a distinguished guest to me.” I ask in part as a curious agent but also as his girlfriend.

“Miracle? Well, I suppose it would be the season for it.” His smile was as ambiguous as his answer. Taking another sip from his glass I watched as the alcohol coated his lower lip like a gloss. It was a practically mouthwatering image.

We have an agreement not to interfere with work. Both of us stood there in our own private world sizing each other up, playing one suggestive comment for another. Reading between the lines as our little game continued.

“I wonder if you might grant me the opportunity to dance with the most beautiful lady at this rather stuffy affair?” He says with a slightly dramatic flair that felt like it overlapped with a Prince in a fairytale.

“Stuffy affair? Is that really how you would describe this event?” I can’t help but giggle in response.

“Attend one charity gathering at this time of year sadly they all seem to blur into one. All worthy causes, but the crowds sadly are nearly always the same.” His face takes on all the charms of a puckish little boy which only serves to cause my heart to flip.

“In that case, I would love to dance. You almost make it feel as if you are saving me from impending boredom.” I give a light and breezy reply hoping he can’t see how easily he has me bending to his commands. I’m still on a mission.

“Ha-ha, the pleasure is all mine I assure you.” Elegantly taking my glass from me, he placed it on a passing waiter’s tray along with his own. Slipping an arm around my waist he then began to lead us in a waltz that guided us deeper into the gardens away from the grand house and guests.

The music became fainter as we lost ourselves in each other’s eyes and embrace. His body moving perfectly in sync against mine was a sinfully chaste motion. It left me wishing for more contact than the minimal required to dance. We are so close yet so agonisingly far apart. He planned this, didn’t he? It is a very Kei thing and yet I still can’t get a clear read on the guy even after dating him.

I pondered this idea while maintaining eye contact with my boyfriend. His unreadable eyes reflecting only me while he continued to smile and move us in time with the muted tune. A large golden ornament hanging from a set of trees that made up the entrance to another part of this lavish historic garden caught my eye. I swear rich people…

For all my inner protests about flashy displays of money, there was no denying its beauty. A refreshing scent filled the crisp night air around it. It was a set of five golden hoops, wrapped in evergreens and fresh herbs with what looked like an ornate fruit bowl trapped inside. To finish it all off this spherical link cage had a familiar white berried plant hanging in a tumbling bunch beneath it all.

“So pretty.” I ended up expressing myself honestly and feeling a little childish in the process. I’d attended lots of luxurious events in the line of duty and here I was looking at a giant decoration like a cat that had found a room with a glitter ball in it.

“A Kissing Bough.” Kei didn’t seem to mind he just turned his head acknowledging the oversized ornament. He inclined his head after turning back to me relaxing his arm around my waist putting an end to our dance. “You aren’t familiar with it?”

“I think I saw something like it once on a European period drama but up close it's even more beautiful.” No point in lying at this point. We were alone and even if I didn’t account for Kei being able to see right through me, I couldn’t deny that tonight of all nights I didn’t want to lie to him.

“Well then allow me to explain. You are familiar with the tradition of Mistletoe?” He naturally straightened his posture in preparation for his impromptu lecture. I actually love it when he does this although I have no idea if he knows that or not.

“Yes, you are supposed to share a kiss under it.” I nodded and answered ever the perfect student causing him to smile warmly before he continued to fill in the finer details.

“Exactly but traditionally it was slightly more than that. It was part of the celebration in ancient Greece during Saturnalia that there was an act of kissing involving the plant. It is associated with fertility, peace, love and friendship. Druids are thought to be some of the first to bring the Mistletoe inside believing it to also imbue good luck and ward off evil spirits.” He was talking as if he were reading a story from one of his collections of old books.

His breadth of knowledge was really something. Kazuomi wasn’t joking when he said Kei was something of a know it all, able to hold conversations about anything and everything with ease. I imagine it is what makes him such a good diplomat.

“It has a long history then?” I chimed in encouraging him to continue.

“Yes, Romans used to settle agreements and conflict under it. Even in Norse mythology, you can find this little parasite. Did you know there was a time when it was not only frowned upon as a decoration but it was on a list to be banned from adorning a church? The idea didn’t take.” He whispered the last part in my ear as if sharing a secret which gave me goosebumps on my neck.

“How did it get to be such a well-recognised holiday decoration then?” Attempting to maintain my composed mask of an elite spy I casually brought my shawl higher up and tucking myself in tighter. He wasn’t fooled for a second and only chuckled seeing me react to him. Still, he didn’t touch me just continued with his history lesson.

“Well now in the UK it is connected to the Yule season but that isn’t the case in others. You could argue that the origins of this quaint little custom as we know it came from England in the 1700s but it was far more popular by the Victorian era. Before we had the tradition of a tree as a symbol of the holiday there was this.” He pointed above us at the hanging festive orb. I followed his reach and looked up.

I felt something shift but was not fast enough to react. Something about Kei always seemed to render me sluggish with my reactions. He had a way of making every movement of his feel like it naturally just belonged. Warmth pressed against my back and I felt his arms circle around mine.

His fingers located the back of my hand that was holding the shawl tight against myself. His long fingers began to stroke the skin there. Tracing the veins, following the lines to my inner wrist and back again in lazy slow patterns. He continued to speak, his voice low in my ear making it impossible for me to think of anything other than his sultry voice and touch.

“You said you are familiar with the tradition of kissing under Mistletoe but are you aware it is, in fact, a very poisonous little plant? Such a symbol, shrouded in all this romance. Providing a dash of poison to the whole affair.” His lips brushed against my ear lobe. The soft kiss made me shudder sweetly in his arms. “There are actually two traditions involved with this plant. The first involves plucking a berry from the bunch for every kiss stolen.” He reached up and stolen a single white berry from the greenery, balancing it in the palm of his hand in front of us. “When the berries are all gone so too are your privileges.”

Spinning me around in his arms so I couldn’t avoid his darkened gaze a devilish smile crept over his face. It felt like I was pinned in place while his fingers now at my back began tracing my spine through the fabric of my dress. I had never wanted to curse such a thin barrier between us more.

“The other follows a more common route. Anyone under the mistletoe that refuses a kiss will suffer from a curse of bad luck. What are you thinking?” He was seriously unfair. He knew exactly what I was thinking and insisted on teasing.

“That I’d very much like to avoid that curse.” At some point, I had begun to feel like I was floating, bound in his gaze the only thing in my world was the sound of his voice, and the temptation of his sinful lips.

“Well then. What do you say, ‘Lily’? Shall we escape the madding crowd and explore this little tradition for ourselves?” Taking my hand in his he led me through the tree entrance and into a walled garden.

It felt like I was following him through a magical world, the scents of the flowers blooming in the winter mingling with his natural musk kept me firmly in a dreamlike stupor as my body trailed along automatically with his guidance. I really would walk through Hell itself and fear nothing of it with this man. Where is the perfect student and spy now?

The house and its guests were hidden behind the high walls covered in the fragments of trailing plants. A thick frost had covered the world around us making it feel as if it was frozen in time.

Suddenly Kei came to a stop glancing around us briefly before pushing me into the shadow of some of the immaculate large topiaries. It put distance between us, breaking the spell.

“Kei?” The loss of his touch even for the briefest of moments had me searching for him again. I hated to admit it but this was part of me. A neediness I never knew I had. It was something he accepted and encouraged, drawing it out of me.

“I told myself I wouldn’t go this far. But then…  you had to look at me like that. When did you become so cruel?” Kei was standing in the moonlight whilst I was covered in shadow. The way the shadows danced over his perfect face made his pained expression look so very lonely. His eyes were wavering as they looked at me. That devilish smirk on his face was unmoving as he took in every inch of me.

“I wasn’t—mmm!” My protest was cut short by his remarkably fast movement. I barely had enough time to catch my breath before his lips crashed repeatedly into mine stealing it away leaving me light-headed and almost limp in his arms that held me caged in the dark.

“You forgot your lesson again. You looked so lost and alone… standing there…” He continued to speak in a pitifully pained voice as he peppered me with kisses. His arms holding me up as his hands ran over the confines of my dress.

“You were watching me?” I could hardly speak above a breathless whisper. My mind was telling me to keep it together but the way he was robbing me of oxygen and the way his hands were running over me had my heart hammering so loudly in my head I couldn’t focus on anything but him and how he looked so hurt.

“Only since the second you arrived. I only ever see you and yet you teased me by following THEM.” The way he spat out the final pronoun had me remembering the disdain he had for Boss. He was clearly feeling a lot of emotions right now and knowing Kei couldn’t pin down one strong sensation above another.

“I’m on a mission Kei you know that.” I raised my hand to his cheek trying to get his eyes to focus on me and not the memories he had that was causing him so much pain.

“Yes, I do but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. You know that even if you wanted to leave me, I would never let you go.” He stopped his movements with his hands. There was a fire in his eyes that could have melted the polar ice caps. The shawl slipped from my shoulders exposing my flushed skin to the night air. I would have shivered had it not been immediately chased away with his burning hot lips as they glided over my collar bones.  

Soft cashmere wrapped around my free arm from behind, locking it to my side as his grip around me tightened. Grabbing my raised hand by its wrist he gave me a stinging bite to the inside of it.

A crimson flower bloomed on the pale flesh and he dragged his tongue over it. Past the love bite and up the palm, wrapping it around several fingers before giving them little nibbles on their tips. All of this without once taking his eyes from mine. Those glass-like doll eyes, dark with lust.

I licked my lips before finding strength enough to pounce. I forcibly covered his lips with mine trying to suck out all his pain and confusion. A poison that had no place alongside the honeyed darkness we shared.

“Mm… Mc?” He hummed against me. I placed my unbound arm around his neck as I leant in to whisper my sweet nothings in his ear. He stiffened with the pressure of my body against his. For a second it seemed he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“So don’t. Take me, mark me… hold me. Make me yours--.” I tried my best to coax him into moving but he stood still as a statue. I didn’t know if he was still struggling to organise his feelings or if he was simply teasing me.

“Someone said she was on a mission.” He sounded amused even as he chastised me for my failing work ethic.

“I am.” I walked my fingers up his check finding the edge of his bow tie and pulling it loose. The sight of his perfect image becoming undone at my hand thrilled me and I found myself urged on to start popping the buttons at his collar.

“You don’t sleep with targets when you are working.” He raised a hand to stop me going further. Ever the one to prefer to remain covered even at times like this. As much as I respect that I also found it extremely unfair that I was always the one to be stripped bare while he wasn’t.

“You aren’t the target. I already took what I wanted from THEM. Now I want something from you.” I was past the point of playing, the fire building inside me was his creation and I was damned if he was going to keep me waiting any longer.

“So greedy. You know? You’re so incredibly sexy when you are honest with your desires. My girl…” He chuckled in a deep voice as he finally seemed to cave to demand.

As our body temperatures rose in the wintery climate our hands roamed over each other eagerly seeking out the next sensitive point. Before he could bind my other arm to my side, I found his jacket pocket by chance. My fingers removing what was hidden inside.

“Mhm… ngh… Kei what is that?” He pulled back enough for me to see what I had in my hand. A small sprig of greenery with white berries.

“I thought I’d twist tradition a little.” He said conspiratorially. Holding my hand in his while raising it above us so the Mistletoe was over our heads.

“Oh?”

“A berry for every time we--.” His free hand slipped through a gap he created in my dress without me realising. Plunging low, attacking me at the apex of my legs over my underwear. The pressure of the heel of his hand rubbing as his fingers stroked along the fabric covering me was blissful torture. Releasing my hand he took the opportunity to loosen his belt as he raised the hem of my dress.

“Mmm Kei…?” I bucked my hips against his hand as the cold air hit my heat. It wasn’t enough to put out the fire. He continued rubbing me over my underwear even as he kissed me, pumping his hardened desire in his other hand a few times.

“Gah, shhh… keep your voice down. Unless you want us to be caught.”

I bit my lip pleading with him using my eyes to hurry. This was so risky and so unlike us that it felt overwhelmingly good. The thrill of location and the way he was possessively pursuing me was doing a number on how hard my heart was pounding. The perfect Prince was gone.

Pulling the fabric covering me to the side he pushed into me filling me up and moved his hands to support my hips whilst I wrapped my legs around him.

“Such a naughty little spy… my bad girl.” His words bled into my ear as he brought himself closer to me removing all light between us as he plunged deeper.

In the shadows of a garden attached to a historic house in England. During a party intended to celebrate a Holy night. Here I was finishing up a mission in a less than professional manner and I couldn’t care less.

As our bodies moved together in the shadow of the topiary, our muffled cries and moans were lost to the night. This wasn’t exactly how I saw our holiday going, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

I still had to hand over the jewels tucked inside my garter but right now all I could think of was the man in front of me. My wonderfully sinful, “bad” boy. My prince, my Kei.

---

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 64

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"You owe me big," I said to Bisque. We were watching Wenge and Jasper sprint back and forth across a small courtyard behind the bar.

"I hear you, I hear you," Bisque said. "We were sort of roped into more than we could chew."

"Between the strikes and whatever those leaders want?" I asked.

"People started looking at us like we were supposed to have answers. That's how the old White Fang got started around here. Just as union leaders and such. Now that they've been discredited and with our network people were looking at us to pick up the slack."

"So you got dragged into this, you're being strong armed into doing this operation before y'all are ready."

"By those old miner leaders. Dyne and Barret. Dyne's been around for a long ass time. Barret's newer but they're both close. Barret is backing Dyne. Which means we need to play ball too."

"Which is why you owe me. Big time. I want information. As soon as you have it. I have a list of names I'll want you to keep an ear to the ground about and if you want me to kill Taurus it'll cost you extra," I informed him. Never let it be said I was purely altruistic. I saw my edge over him and I was taking it.

He slapped a hand over his face. "No, no. Don't kill him. At least not yet if you can help it. And I'll take your list of names."

"That's just the start. I don't want Lien. I'll want any other information that you can give me when and if I ask for it. A blank check." I leaned against the wall of the bar beside Neo with my arms crossed.

"Fine. Fair enough." He rubbed his forehead hard. "We do owe you. Thanks Cloud."

"And you'll want to upgrade the fucking squirt gun you've got."

"What's wrong with my pistol?" He asked.

"It's a fucking .22."

"Hey now. It's a .30."

"Still. Those sometimes don't stop regular people. You'll want something with more kick to it. I can pick up something better from Aurum. Lasers, higher caliber, or even something magnetic accelerated so it still has as much kinetic energy as a .44 or .45. Hell, you should probably talk .50 cal if you want to stop anybody with aura and training."

"So I should go big or go home?" He asked.

"More like go big or die, bro," I said. "I knew this fifteen year old who used a .50 caliber sniper rifle. If you're really attached to something small I could get you a submachine gun."

"I'll think about it," he said.

"Think fast," I shot back.

We watched Jasper and Wenge pant and sprint in their suicides for a hard moment.

"You going to -" I was interrupted by the jingle of bells as the bar's door opened.

I was going to ask if he was going to join Jasper and Wenge who were working hard. Avalanche all had aura but having aura didn't make you good, I'd been living proof of that. Even having a semblance didn't make you good. Only training or else real combat could help with that.

I peaked around the corner and through a screen door. It was Robyn Hill in the bar. I recognized her face from the posters of her all over both towns. She had pale hair (not as snow white as Weiss's) and purple eyes, not quite as vibrant as Yangs, but she was still beautiful. Aura-hunter-beautiful.

"Bar's closed," Bisque told her. I heard through the back door entrance and window.

"Oh don't be like that. I just want to talk about the General's project."

"Not this time. You shot us down, remember. Or your agent did, Fiona was it," Bisque returned. He didn't look amused.

"I have some Lien I could offer you." Robyn said and she leaned against the counter. Her face on one palm. "Sorry we weren't about the destruction of Schnee property. But look where that got you."

"The value of money is plummeting for me recently," Bisque said dryly.

I snorted. Money only talked so loudly to hunters like Neo and I. I was willing to bet she had more millions stashed away than the ones we took from Don Corneo. But that wasn't how you kept Neo entertained. Well, drugs and alcohol helped but what she really wanted was somebody to fuck with. Even if that somebody was only me and it had to do with a night I'd gotten black-out drunk on. She was milking that for all it was worth.

"How much will that information cost me?" Hill asked. "What can I do to make you call off these strikes? Come on, work with me here. I'm listening now."

"A few hundred thousand. And we're not in charge of the strikes."

She winced at the price but sighed in a way that didn't make it seem undoable. "I'll see about getting you your money. And that's not the way I hear it. These are your strikes now."

"They're not. You're looking for Dyne or Barret."

"Dyne is unreconcilable. He's on the warpath. He wants the strikes to never end just so long as Schnee suffers. He's unreachable. And Barret is angry. He'll stay that way for the foreseeable future. You're not, work with me here," she said again. "What will it cost? I'm willing to make all kinds of campaign promises. I'll keep them too. I'm a woman of my word. You want dust lung laws? I want them too. Why don't we start negotiating there? The strikes have to end somewhere."

"We want increased safety standards. And we want an increase in minimum wage. Wages haven't kept up with inflation so the current wage is unlivable."

"Done. Please. I can't get elected under this kind of unrest. Just join my voting block, getting your people to join my block will solve both of our problems."

"I'm not sure I can do that. There's more on the way."

"What else is on the way?"

"I can't talk to you about it but we have another operation."

"Another? Like the one that kicked off these protests? Put it off." She sounded desperate. "Cancel it."

"Can't do that. Some old guard in the White Fang are insisting upon it and in the miners guild, too. They're putting pressure on me and Avalanche." Bisque crossed his arms and replied coldly.

"Who?" She demanded. "I'll convince them otherwise."

"You can't. It's Dyne and Adam Taurus."

"Taurus? And Dyne, both? You have to do this?"

"Or else I'm afraid that Avalanche will lose control over the strikes completely."

"So? Let it happen. You can't tell me you meant for things to go this far. Fiona said it was mostly symbolic."

"We'd never be a player in the unions ever again if we stood by the wayside now. We have to be willing to act as much or more than anyone and everyone else."

"Damn it. When's the operation? Will you tell me that at least?" She pleaded.

"Tomorrow night. The others want to put a fire under Jacques Schnee and prevent him from getting comfortable. They want to force him to act and capitulate to the strikes. We had this operation in mind before and one thing led to another once the others found out about it."

"I'll get your money wired to you. Tell me about the General's project with Amity." She leaned forward towards him. She was anxious to hear about it.

I watched her stick out a hand. Bisque took it. A dull lilac hue took over both their hands all the way up to the elbow. I could feel the low hum of aura from where I watched through the screen window. She was doing something .

"The General is turning the colosseum into a satellite. Getting communication back up and running between the kingdoms. It's his current number one priority."

She withdrew. "That's it? That's why he's diverting supplies from Mantle? At least as far as you know, I suppose."

"The intel is good. We had people who worked on the project come to us," Bisque said. "Cetra who were or are involved in the construction joined our union network. They reported it to us."

"That's… that's good news I suppose. But the rest you have got to find a way to settle down the protests and get them to vote for me. I'm willing to grant all your concessions once I become a council member. None of them are unreasonable or outside of my policies," Hill negotiated. She really wanted a bunch of politically active people on her side come election day. I could get that. Voter efficacy was low all too often, even back in Vale.

"I'll talk to people and spread the word. I only promise to try."

"And another thing, Fiona mentioned two other people. She mentioned Cloud Strife. What's his angle in all this? I know he's been involved in the drug game and a prison break," Hill wondered.

"He was after the same information you were. Fiona should have been able to tell you that," Bisque answered. "Now, if that's actually everything, you can wire the money over and get out of my bar. We're closed. No service at the moment. We've got a happy hour at seven. You could come back then."

"Well thank you anyways. And don't worry about your money. I'll leave, then."

He came out to me again through the screen door in the back of the bar.

"You shook her hand," I introduced. "Why?"

"She's got a lie detection semblance. It's touch based, Striker ranged," he informed me.

I raised an eyebrow. A politician that valued truth in their very soul. Not her heart or mind but in the core of her very being. You didn't find that on every street corner.

Well she had my vote. Not that I could vote. None of my identities were Atlas or Mantle citizens so I was pretty much in the same class as a felon. Not that I wasn't also a felon.

"You sure you should have told her so much about the operation. She could interfere," I told him. "If she does that's on you."

"I didn't tell her that much. And if she does interfere it might be for the best. I don't really want this op to happen. Maybe she'll be able to stop the operation, Avalanche won't have to back down, and nobody will get hurt."

"Yeah well I don't want to go to prison. Something to keep in mind. The law isn't exactly on our side," I muttered. "For all that we're standing here plotting this in broad daylight."

"Oh I wasn't aware. I'll try to keep that in mind." His tone was as dry as ice.

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I scoped out the ship I would be sinking with Neo. Or 'Mint' as she was in her disguise. She snuck aboard easily enough and took a photo of a map of the ship with her scroll. She sent it to me and I examined it closely.

I needed to figure out where we would set the charges so that the explosion would just sink the vessel and not destroy the harbor in a dust driven detonation.

The place had cameras for security and a handful of human and faunus guards. But for the most part the ship was ruled and watched over by robots. Robots I'd have no problem taking apart. It was the people I needed to lure out somehow so that they didn't die when the ship went down or similar.

There were lifeboats onboard but I didn't need any more blood on my hands. I was powerful enough that I suppose I could take steps to avoid death now. I didn't need to go all out against a group of aura-lacking sentries anymore.

I could bop them without killing them now. And I knew Neo was in a similar ballpark. She just usually didn't care.

I studied the map in detail. Neo turned visible again as she paced away from the large grey vessel. It had soft blue mooring lights and a big Schnee Dust Company logo on the side.

I could see men and women and machines up on the deck at their posts. They all had smooth looking assault rifles and shotguns. The kind of heavy weaponry the SDC needed to keep their high valued assets safe. I was sure they were on decent high alert now, too. I'd scraped with some of them at the mine so they knew that wasn't just an accident.

She came up behind me on my bike and wrapped her arms around me. I turned around to spot her small smirk. She was still teasing me. At least she was still doing what I told her to do in a general sense.

She pulled herself snuggly against me and pressed her face into my back. I could feel it against my skin after a layer of clothes over armor. Maybe it was just her aura I was feeling against me like the flare of a cold burning candle.

I could feel her mischievous mood. She had no one to target but me at the moment.

"Don't be a brat, Neo." She shuffled softly against me in what I realized was mute laughter.

I revved my engine and pulled away from the ship.

"I'm thinking about setting off an explosion as a distraction. To lure the people off the ship. The last thing we want is to have to kill people and stain our unblemished records."

The wind whistled through my face as I pulled the bike into traffic.

"Maybe I'll set you loose on the guards. Harass them with illusions that get them off the ship. Would that make you happy or would you rather blow something up."

She shrugged against me unhelpfully.

"Well then we will probably do a little of column A and a little of column B. How many people can you teleport at once with you, Neo."

She tapped my chest three times. That meant I could get four of us on board. More if I flew. Just five of us to cause enough of a ruckus that we drew the living guards' attention but not so much noise that we brought the entire facility down on our heads. There was a balance to play. A particular key to strike.

I needed to draw only so much attention and it had to be the kind of attention that grabbed living beings and left the machines to mostly do their work.

I recalled the robots. They were humanoid things for the most part. They were built fast and could be destroyed just as easily by hunters like us. Their weapons would only cause a problem if I gave their targeting computers time to really line up a shot and if I gave them a chance to shoot as a group.

Not allowing them to use their strength of numbers was a good call. Don't sit still enough that they got a good solution for me. It was a good start but I needed more.

There could be more menacing machines on board. Giant spider or scorpion bots or larger humanoid mechs like the Atlesian Paladins we had fought back at Beacon's fall.

I wasn't sure how much trouble those kinds of machines were going to give me given how much stronger I had become. Plus I was loaded with dust crystals and I knew how to use them.

I needed to start a fire. Something like that would draw the human crew to the lifeboats and off the ship but would leave the machines behind.

I could also use Neo's power to get a few of us on board and get the party started.

I pulled up on a gondola for vehicles and pulled out my scroll and started looking over the ships schematics. I say schematics but there was a small 'you are here' sign on it indicating it was really a map set up somewhere inside.

I wanted to set the charges near the front of the ship away from the cargo hold where all the dust was sitting around and waiting to explode.

That should stop a chain reaction of explosions depending on how big the explosives we used were. I had better make those myself.

I was already thinking through the designs I knew to cause a hole just large enough to rupture the exterior hull of the boat. Just enough to rock the ship and not blow up the entire harbor.

I swung by Aurum's club on a gondola for vehicles and picked up a .50 caliber pistol for Bisque who still hadn't made up his mind. So I made it up for him. I put the heavy boxes of ammunition behind me on the bike with the spare magazines for the weapon.

It was a good thing he and the others had yet to be in a real huntsman-class fight or they would have lost pretty badly.

The only thing to do from here was build the bombs and I could do that easily enough at my apartment. So that was my next stop.

I wired together several dust crystals, enough that I thought it would be able to blow a hole in the ship's exterior if it was set against it but not so much that it would spread through the rest of the boat's interior. I made two because I thought one was probably enough to do it so I might as well go all in.

Then I set them up to be able to blow from a remote source. In this case just my scroll. It was actually pretty easy. Not as easy as throwing them really hard but just about using two small arduinos, one a piece.

The only thing left to do was share the plan with Avalanche, the miners, and Taurus and hope that went off without a hitch before the plan even started.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[yodawgiherd]

Somewhere Out There

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Happy Holidays everyone! ^^ And since I prolly won't do anything new for some time again, happy new year too :P Annie heard about the woman she was matched with today. A known name in the MMA scene, she was among the top-ranked - steadily placing high in various tournaments. Experienced, dangerous, and strong, a welcome change from her first fight and that egoistic wrestler. Annie was looking forward to the challenge. The bell rang and they both moved at the same time.

At first, it was her enemy throwing punches, testing the waters, looking for openings. But Annie didn’t budge. Using the technique she learned from Reiner “the Armor”, she turtled with her hands raised, absorbing the hits. The pain didn’t mean anything, and as long as she protected the important parts of her body, she could safely ignore it. Only a very good striker could get through the armor, find the gaps and slide the damage in, but this girl couldn’t do it and Annie shrugged her hits off. Seeing that there was no progress to be made there, she bit the bait and went in.

The woman went low, Annie went high and they met in the middle, grasping at each other. A grappler then, same as she was. Muscles straining, they fell on the ground, their duel continuing there as they tried to get a submission hold on each other. Her enemy was about the same in both height and weight as Annie and their struggling was more or less equal. Yet as it continued, it was clear that Annie had something the other woman didn’t – cold-blooded dedication. While she was running out of breath, the blonde wasn’t even winded, coiling herself around her like a vice, never letting go, never lessening the pressure. But before she could truly put her choking techniques to work, the woman simply tapped out.

Confused, Annie let go and they disentangled from one another. For whatever reason, the defeated party was wearing a huge smile anyway, almost immediately offering the victor a hand to shake.

“I shouldn’t have taken you to the ground.”, she said, “You’re insane there. Do you ever get tired?”

There was joy in her voice, enjoyment even, and Annie didn’t get it. She got crushed, so why did she look like that she was having fun?

“You don’t mind that you lost?”

“Nah, I kind of expected that to happen sooner or later.”

“Why’s that? Don’t you have faith in what you do?”

“I do, but I know that there are others out there who are class above normal people. I found out about it a few months back.”

Despite not being here to make friends, Annie was interested.

“How so?”

“You see, I was competing in an MMA tournament, all hyped up and ready to go. I was counted between the favorites to win the whole thing, and that did wonders to my ego. It inflated even further when I breezed through my matches. But then I met her.”

Annie didn’t even realize that she was holding her breath, immersed in the story. A bit embarrassed by how easily she was drawn in, she huffed it out, waiting for the other girl to continue.

“She had an impressive streak, but was a newbie, only recently switching to our scene. No worries, I thought, I’ll show her what MMA is about.”, she shook her head, “ I have never been so wrong. She was fast, insanely fast, and far stronger than her build suggested. I did my best, I gave the match my all, but she crushed me anyway and that’s when I realized that some people are just built differently. She was a prodigy, I am not.”

If there was someone like that out there, it would be helpful to keep tabs on her. Hell, she might be even competing in this very tournament.

“What was her name?”, Annie asked, “How did she look like?”

“Asian girl, black hair, pale skin, a scar on her cheek. Her name was Mikasa.”

Annie’s next breath was a deep inhale as she struggled to keep herself calm. The night still haunted her, that fight in the rain, the one where she almost got beaten to death. The naked steel in Mikasa’s eyes when she raised the bloodied fist, that was something Annie would never forget.

“You know, she was giving me a similar feeling you do.”, the girl went on, “Do you know her?”

“N-No.”, Annie lied, shaking her head vehemently, “Never heard of her.”

“Oh well, if you go on like this, I’m sure you two will meet somewhere in the bracket.”

With that, the woman tapped Annie on the shoulder and left the ring. Gritting her teeth, clenching her fists, the blonde’s dedication to winning had reached a whole new level. Because now, she knew that her worst rival was here too. Because now, she knew that she could crush her demons on the way to the top. And Annie would enjoy that.

Eren didn’t even know how they ended up like this, on the couch with Mikasa straddling him. She came down from the bedroom, he wished her good morning, so she kissed him in return and things somewhat escalated from there. Not that he was complaining. She was still in her sleeping attire, a shirt and a pair of panties, meaning that her bare legs were all his for the taking.

And everything was great, until she pulled back, grasping his chin and casting an inspecting eye over the beard Eren was cultivating for a few days.

“You really should shave babe, I’m not sure I approve of that homeless vibe.”

“You’re the one the talk.”

“What’s that?”

Fine then, if Mikasa wanted to play this game, he was in. Eren liked that beard, and shaving was a pain the ass anyway. To tease her, he swapped the circuit in his brain from horny to asshole, the one that was usually reserved for Jean.

“Well, you are… you know…”, it was hard searching for an insult with Mikasa on his lap, so Eren just blurted the first word that stumbled on his tongue, “ugly.”

“Ugly? You think I’m ugly?“

“Yep. Hideous even.“

“Care to elaborate?”

“Well, for starters, look at your hair.”, his hand came up, dragging through the short locks, “So short, so black. And a dyed red streak? How old are you?”, he shook his head, “Everyone knows that long blonde is the best.”

Her own hands found purchase on Eren’s shoulders as Mikasa anchored herself, listening.

“Go on.”, she prompted.

“Your shoulders are too broad, biceps too big..”, tracing that lovely shape, he went on, “what do you need muscles for?”

“I beat people up for a living.”, she grinned down at him, “But continue.”

It was only a half-truth by now, but they both knew that. Taking full advantage of her position, Eren slid his hands to her breasts, cupping them through the fabric of her shirt. Mikasa didn’t wear bra to bed, obviously, so he could feel her nipples through it.

“Your chest is way too small to be attractive, you look like a man. I mean, everyone knows that the bigger the better.”

Amused, Mikasa made a happy noise in the back of her throat. But when Eren’s hands kept groping the same area, she raised an eyebrow.

“Hello?”

He reluctantly let go of her breasts.

“R-Right. Sorry.”

Torn from his trance, as it was always so much fun to play with her chest. Eren quickly repositioned his grasp to her hips, the move itself a herculean effort. Mikasa was patient, playing with the ends of his overlong hair, smug on her throne.

“Your stomach is too hard,”, poking her abs, Eren faked his best scowl, “woman is supposed to be soft to the touch.”

Five years back, all this critique would send Mikasa’s confidence crashing down, especially if it would come from her own boyfriend. But now all she did was smirk, watching him pull those words out of his ass. Self-growth is a wonderful thing.

“Thighs, again too strong. What for?”

“Choking people out.”, she scratched his nape slightly, “Maybe you too if you ask nicely.”

A low growl left Eren as the scenario flashed through his mind, fingers digging into those beautiful legs for a second before he re-composed himself. With a deep breath, he moved his hands to the last part of his inspection.

“And your ass…. Your ass…. Err….”

“What’s that?”

“I mean… Uhm…”

But how was he supposed to say anything? Granted, his insults were lame to begin with, but at least he could try to look at it from someone else’s perspective to pass her strengths as faults. However, what was the play here? To reassure himself that there is indeed nothing he could latch on, he ran his hands over Mikasa’s backside, the “inspection” taking much longer than needed. That made her giggle.

“I’ve got nothing.”, he finally surrendered, “Your butt is perfect.”

Mikasa didn’t say anything for a time, simply looked down at him, the smug smirk never leaving her lips. And then she did that the one thing that Eren feared she would do to completely destroy his arguments. She stirred her hips. Just a little, a tiny rock back and forth on top of him, but she was experienced and he was weak, so fucking weak for her, that the little slide almost immediately began producing results. His traitorous body refused to cooperate with the mind, and Eren was hard before he even realized how it happened. With Mikasa on his lap, the change was rather obvious to both parties involved, and her smug smile became even smugger. Worst of all, Eren knew that she’s probably not going to do anything about it and leave him blueballed, because while she knew that he spoke only to tease her, Mikasa preferred her teasing to be done in a more physical way. And to Eren’s dismay, she was damn good at it.

“Still, you raised some valid critique.”, Mikasa suddenly said, halting her movements, “So tell me, with all these faults, why do I have this?”

She wiggled her engagement ring at him.

“That’s easy.”, he replied, summoning his blood to his brain back from the crotch “I love you.”

“Even with my wide shoulders and hard stomach?”

“Precisely because of that.”

“Well..”, she leaned closer, whispering, “You are lucky that I love you too. Even with your girly hair and hobo beard.”

And just as Eren moved in for a kiss, she slipped out of his lap and was gone.

“Mmmhhh……. W-Where are you going?”, he called after her, even more desperate than before.

“I’ve got training with Levi.”, she called right back, her voice accompanied by the sounds of her getting dressed.

“Now? Can’t you go in like… five minutes?”

“Aw, I’m sorry babe.”, Mikasa appeared in the doorway, already wearing her signature leather biker jacket, “But you know how punctual Levi is.”

“Miki…”

“I have to run, but I’m sure that you and your…”, her eyes dipped between Eren’s legs before coming back to his face, “right hand can figure out the issue.”

Disappearing with a wink, Eren soon heard the door click and he was alone. Knocking his head back against the couch, he barked out a laugh. How could someone not love Mikasa Ackerman, that was completely beyond him. Well, time to shave.

If anything, Levi was even harder on her now. Mikasa’s training was more extreme than ever, pushing limits of both her strength and endurance above and beyond. But she didn’t complain. She knew that the road would be hard and rocky, and Levi was simply trying to prepare for the worst. Yet when her brother said that she should develop a new move, something not seen before, she had to ask.

“Why? Don’t I have enough shit in my repertoire?”

“You do, but they will know that. An ace up your sleeve might be worth investing some time into.”

“What do you mean?

“Rest assured that they will scout you. Watch your past matches, learn what you do and how to counter it.”

“Really?”

“Of course. You haven’t lost yet after switching to MMA, not even once, and now you went and knocked one of the top contenders down on his ass.”

“I see…”, Mikasa scratched the back of her neck, a new idea popping in, “If they do that, shouldn’t we do the same?”

“Way ahead of you. I’ve already done some serious research and, I’ll be honest with you, it’s not looking pretty.”

“How so?”

“There are some serious monsters out there. Last night, I watched a tattooed giant completely brutalize some poor fellow’s face with his elbows. That’s the thing about this tournament. On the bright side, the next to no rules means that you get to fight a wide variety of people, a lot of great experience. But on the other hand, guys like him can be as brutal as they want to without any drawback.”

“I know what I was getting into.”, Mikasa countered.

“Still, be extra careful. Especially if you get into the ring with the guys I picked out.”

Levi had spent about a week or so on this, combing through the huge-ass number of matches, looking for individuals who stood out the most. Those that would be most dangerous to his sister.

“I’ve compiled them into a file with all the info I could dig out, videos of their fights and whatnot. Sometimes it's not much, but it’s better than nothing. I’ll send you an email with the file.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Really.”

He nodded back, turning and leaving back into the gym. Mikasa got out, kicked the bike awake, the engine roaring, and soon she was on her way back home with a new set of things to ponder.

When Eren came home, Mikasa was already deep in her research, looking at the laptop screen with a focused look on her face. He sat down next to her, eager to see who she would be facing later on. There was a guy on the screen right now, a real tank. Blonde, tall and very heavily muscled, with a somewhat sad look on his face.

“Damn, look at this dude, he’s built like a space marine.”

Mikasa blinked at him.

“A what?”

“A space ma-, nevermind. I’ll educate you some other time.”

Eren and his fantasy worlds. Focusing on the page instead, Mikasa read out loud.

“Reiner Braun - Germany. Specialty: grappling – long history of Judo and Wrestling.”

“Dude’s heavy as shit.” Eren noted over her shoulder, “If he ever gets you on the ground you’re finished.”

Mikasa had to agree with him. She was strong, but there was no way she was getting over a hundred kilos of pure muscle from her chest. Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she scrolled down.

“Fahkumram - Thailand. Specialty: Muay Thai – also known as the god of Muay Thai.”

Talk about an imposing figure. Over two meters tall with almost unnaturally broad shoulders, arms and legs bulging. Numerous tattoos covered the man’s skin, Mikasa’s own paling in comparison. She could almost hear Eren’s worry increasing. Levi wasn’t lying, these guys were truly monsters, far beyond anything she had faced until now. Hoping for someone that would take their mind from that German tank and abnormal Thai warrior, she scrolled down. And her heart skipped a beat.

“Is that….”, Eren whispered next to her, “No way…”

But there was no mistaking it. Exchanging a bewildered look with her boyfriend, Mikasa’s eyes slid over the page, reading.

“Annie Leonhart – Germany.”

[lligkv]

almost calculated to rivet the reader

I was recommended the book The Bestseller Code: Anatomy of the Blockbuster Novel by another editor at the publishing house I work for, who was impressed at the thought of an algorithm that could predict whether a book would be a bestseller with 72 percent accuracy.

As someone who reads “literary” novels, has a disdain for tech evangelists bordering on the visceral, and regards the development of data-driven publishing with mistrust, I expected to be annoyed by the book. But it’s ultimately not quite as offensive to those sensibilities as it might seem. Rather than a “code” to help people write novels that’ll sell, or an algorithm of some kind that might drive book acquisitions in years to come, The Bestseller Code is about exploring why bestsellers like The Da Vinci Code or Fifty Shades of Gray appeal the way they do. And it offers support, through text mining (the process by which one discovers and extracts particular textual features from a book) and machine learning (the way one might process those features by feeding them into a machine that goes on to make predictions about, say, whether a given manuscript will achieve bestseller status or not), for research that was already done by folks like the scholar Christopher Booker, who read hundreds of books over decades, the old-fashioned way, and identified seven main plots for fictional narratives that authors Jodie Archer and Matthew Jockers find are corroborated by their own data.

Granted, there’s a bit of Jennifer Weiner-type “the commercial lit popular authors write keeps getting badmouthed by critics and the Literary Establishment!” stuff in the book. There’s also one baffling moment where Archer and Jockers make a claim that “the range of existential experience was much greater in bestsellers,” and defend that claim by talking about particular verbs that appear more often in bestselling novels than in non-bestsellers: “bestselling characters ‘need’ and ‘want’ twice as often as non-bestsellers, and bestselling characters ‘miss’ and ‘love’ about 1.5 times more often than non-bestsellers.” Verbs and isolated actions do not existential experiences make! But at root, Archer and Jockers’s research is the product of curiosity about what makes mainstream bestsellers sell the way they do, and whether readers have figured something out that acquisitions editors at big houses may not have yet.

As it turns out, there’s a degree of technical sophistication in Fifty Shades of Grey or The Da Vinci Code in the way these books follow a plot arc that manages to perfectly satisfy a commercial-fiction reader’s desire to be thrilled by dramatic stories and the fantasies they play upon. Specifically, for these books, it’s the “rebirth” plot, in which a character experiences change, renewal, and transformation. Which doesn’t sound revolutionary. But if you look closely at the plot structure, and the sequence of emotional beats in both novels, you see a rollercoaster shape that’s almost calculated to rivet the reader: these peaks of high, low, a high-high, a mild low, another smaller high, a low, and a final high (unless, like Fifty Shades, you need another low to set the reader up for the sequel). Authors and readers alike seem to have stumbled on such perfect, sophisticated structures. The writers happen upon them, rather than consciously being educated in them or consciously crafting them as more literary writers often do; readers seem to hunt them out by instinct: the books that best follow one of the seven plot structures are the ones that rise to the top.

There’s also one moment in The Bestseller Code that’s genuinely affecting, in the context of a discussion of Maria Susanna Cummins’s novel The Lamplighter, which in its time was scorned by Nathaniel Hawthorne and James Joyce. As Archer and Jockers put it, bestsellers and commercial novels are set in emotional terrains, more so than public ones. That is, they’re about their characters as they feel and act, within a world that’s taken as a given, rather than what novels classified as “literary” are often about—characters having to navigate a sociopolitical world that is itself a subject for the author’s comment, or an author’s self-aware exercise of and experimentation with language. And these novels “work for huge numbers of readers not because of what they say to us but what they do to us.” As such, these novels “need no shaming”: they just exist on a separate plane from the literary ones.

In the end, I didn’t mind getting this dispatch from that plane. I make occasional trips to other such planes: sometimes I’m in the mood for, say, Joe Abercrombie’s brand of fantasy, and I’ve read all the Harry Dresden novels; I also love some books that are the literary equivalents of summer blockbusters, like the Expanse series. But I know I won’t descend to the bestseller plane very often—and I do consider it a descent. To my mind, craft and thrill alone don’t give novels the most merit. I don’t read just to be entertained or to be moved, which is what bestsellers offer. I read in order to be made to think, in precisely the ways those literary, public-terrain, sociopolitical novels make me think. And I value them because they linger. They don’t just do things to me, work on me, crash over me like a wave and then recede; they speak to me, just as Archer and Jockers say, and what they say to me lives inside me for years to come.

What’s more, I already suffer enough with the tendency to “identify” with the characters in books I read without venturing into ones that indulge or depend upon that instinct as bestsellers do.

Finally, while Archer and Jockers’s algorithm does a fine job anatomizing bestsellers in a way that speaks to the merit they do have and the function they do serve, I don’t know that I’d trust its recommendations even if I were a passionate reader of bestsellers, considering the book the algorithm picked as the absolute best representation of what it considers a bestseller is Dave Eggers’s The Circle.

Which does reinforce that what an algorithm can’t understand is context. What keeps The Circle from being a bestseller, to my mind, is that the conceit—a woman who goes to work for a tech firm and is schooled in the particular inhumanities she needs to adopt in order to succeed in that increasingly human environment—is not the most engaging. The story may be too close to a specific reality, as opposed to the everyday worlds (e.g., in John Grisham, Jodie Picoult, or Danielle Steel) or the heightened settings (e.g., in The Da Vinci Code or Fifty Shades) in which bestsellers are best set. Perhaps the world in which The Circle takes place is so specific, and its concerns so urgent, that it doesn’t even need to be fictionalized to be of most interest; it seems that representation of Big Tech in memoir, like Anna Wiener’s Uncanny Valley, does better in the marketplace. And finally, Eggers himself is more a literary than a commercial author, something buyers of commercial fiction might be mindful of and trust less than one of the established names in the bestseller market. And he represents a different, past era in even literary fiction. We’re not in the age of the “Brooklyn Books of Wonder” anymore—the humorous triumph over adversity, the twee search for meaning and for love that characterized books of a certain time in the early 2000s. Really, all Eggers’s attempts to succeed beyond that trend—Zeitoun, What Is the What, The Monk of Mokha, A Hologram for the King—seem to me to have been tepidly received. The culture has moved on from his particular moment, and it moves in vogues an algorithm can’t always track.

I’ll also say that, seeing how Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, another book I reread recently, did so well in its day, and how it holds the fuck up—the plot and writing remain absorbing, and the atmosphere as seductive and pleasurable as ever; and that it gets namechecked so often in trends like dark academia suggest teens are exercising their beautiful prerogative to learn all the wrong lessons from that book to this day—I’ll say it’s a safe bet you can write a literary bestseller too, if you wanted to.

*

Anyway. Perhaps you’re reading this piece hoping to learn how to write a bestseller yourself. If so, here’s the skinny:

Keep your primary focus on two or three themes. And keep those themes basic. Archer and Jockers list ones like “kids and school”; “family time”; “money”; “crime scenes”; “domestic life”; “love”; “courtrooms and legal matters”; “maternal roles”; “modern technology”; “government and intelligence.”

Make sure your book has a central conflict—and make sure your protagonist is an active agent in that conflict and in her life generally, knowing what she needs and going for it, acting and speaking with a degree of assurance. Characters in bestselling novels grab, think, ask, tell, like see, hear, smile, reach, and do. Characters in lower-selling literary novels, on the other hand, murmur, protest, hesitate, wait, halt, drop, demand, interrupt, shout, fling, whirl, thrust, and seem.

Shape your story to fit one of the seven archetypal plotlines the authors identify:

A gradual move from difficult times to happy times

The reverse, a move from happy times to more difficult ones

A coming-of-age story or rags-to-riches plot

A “rebirth” plot in which a character experiences change, renewal, and transformation

A “voyage and return” plot in which a character is plunged into a whole new world, experiences a dark turn, and finally returns to some sort of normalcy

Another “voyage and return” plot in which the character herself voyages into the new world, fights monsters, suffers, and finally completes some sort of quest

A story in which your protagonist overcomes a villain or some threat to the culture that must be eliminated so she can change her fortunes back to the good

And make sure you time the emotional beats of your story to follow the curve of your plotline. For instance, The Da Vinci Code and Fifty Shades both follow the “rebirth” plot, and the respective authors ensure the arcs of the romances in both books match the curve of the plotline too, keeping the reader hooked in a way that’s, ultimately, structural.

Be sure to pepper your plot with scenes in which characters are intimate in casual ways. Much is made in The Bestseller Code of the intimacy reflected in a tactic John Grisham uses in a couple of his novels, which is to have his protagonist go over to a love interest’s house with wine and Chinese to just hang out and let her in on how he’s feeling.

Sex that doesn’t drive the plot forward doesn’t go over well. Avoid it. Even in romance novels (as opposed perhaps to erotica), sex is usually in service of the storyline.

Seek for a balance between features in your prose that speak to the more literary, refined style that often comes from institutions of education and letters, and the more journalistic, conversational, everyday style of writing one might intuitively associate with commercial fiction (shorter sentences, snappier prose, with more conversational and casual writing, more words like “okay” or “ugh”). These aren’t especially rigorous categories, I’m aware. Just use your best guess; you’ll probably be fine.

[snelbz]

A Christmas Miracle

Christmas in July {Day 4}

Elide + Lorcan

Written alongside the ultimate hottie with a body, @tacmc​.

Elide found herself walking through the streets of Orynth once again. The snow had just begun to fall and as cold as it was she couldn’t help but turn her face to the sky and watch the small flakes as they tumbled from the dark, starless night.

A week before Christmas, every shop had its doors thrown open for anyone wanting to come in and see their many wares, try free samples and spend the holiday season with those they loved.

As Elide let a family pass, a little girl sitting on her daddy’s shoulders, she sighed. It was times like this that she missed her family, that she wondered exactly what memories she’d missed out on when her parents had died. She’d been so young she could barely remember them, but Christmas was always a strange time of year for her.

Sure, the holiday itself made her happy, but she ended up spending quite a lot of time by herself. While everyone else went to family dinners and parties, she stayed at home by herself.

Her phone rang, startling her out of her misery.

The only other person as lonely as her this time of year was calling her. The person who just so happened to be the reason she was out so late.

“Hello?” She answered, with a sigh.

“You sound sad,” Lorcan replied, voice low. “You’re not allowed to be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” she said, unable to stop the little smile from gracing her lips. “What are you up to tonight?”

“Shopping,” he said.

Elide froze in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. “Did you just say that you’re...shopping?”

She heard his deep chuckled, trying not to think about the way his voice did things to her insides.

“Yes, I’m shopping. And I take it so are you?” “What- How did you-?” She immediately began to look around her, wondering how he knew what she was doing.

There he was, under an awning across the street. He winked at her and she hung up the phone, looking both ways before crossing the street.

He greeted her with a rare smile, one that changed his entire demeanor.

One that he only brought out for her.

“Merry almost Christmas,” he said. “Care to join me?”

“Of course,” she said. “But does it involve food? Because I’m starving.”

“It always involves food,” Lorcan winked. “Then I need your help.”

“With?”

“Secret Santa,” Lorcan said, head tilting to the side, dark strands falling into his eyes.

Elide couldn’t stop the pounding in her chest.

“Who’d you get?” Elide asked. They were playing secret Santa among their friends. Elide had gotten Aelin, and had yet to buy her a gift. Considering they are gathering tomorrow afternoon, both of them were a little behind.

“That defeats the Secret part, doesn’t it?” He asked.

Elide rolled her eyes. “Fine. Food first, shopping second.”

They walked down Main Street and ended up on the Square. Elide looked up at the massive tree in the middle and sighed.

“You’re sighing a lot tonight,” Lorcan observed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Elide nibbled on her bottom lip. She didn’t want to get into it all, didn’t want to throw herself a pity party. She had a ton of friends, all who she was grateful for and loved like family. But they weren’t her family. Her family was gone, and they had been for a long time.

“I get jealous,” she admitted, trying to keep her voice as light as possible while staring at the tall, lit tree. “I see all of these families enjoying the holiday together, and it just reminds me of all the years I’ve missed with my parents.” 

Lorcan nodded, no judgment in his gaze as he watched her admire the square’s decor. “I know what you mean. I barely even remember Christmas with my mom. And I never spent a Christmas with my dad.”

Elide finally met his eyes. “It’s strange. How the holidays are always the hardest when they’re meant to be the happiest.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked. The snow began to fall heavier and heavier, so much so that they ducked off into the first restaurant they saw, which happened to have a small general store attached.

“Eat first?” Lorcan asked, just as Elides stomach rumbled.

“Yes, please,” she begged.

She followed him through the maze of people to where a chalkboard sign sat that read Seat Yourself. After finding a two-person table by the window, Elide plopped down and shrugged off her coat.

She hadn’t expected to see Lorcan tonight, hadn’t expected to see anyone. It was a miracle enough that she’d managed to do her hair and makeup before she left her apartment.

The boots and leggings looked good enough under her pea coat, but the ratty, comfortable t-shirt was a little embarrassing, especially when Lorcan removed his coat, revealing a tight, black Henley. 

She could see every defined muscle of his chest, arms and shoulders across the small table and she had to stop herself from audibly swallowing. She realized he was staring at her and had most likely said something she’d completely missed while she’d been ogling him.

“I’m sorry, I spaced out for a minute.” She was blushing and looked anywhere but at him. “What did you say?”

Lorcan chuckled, the sound she loved most in this world, and said, “I asked if you’d ever been here before.”

“Nope,” she said, observing the dinner menu in front of her. “Didn’t even know it was here, to be honest.”

Orynth was a fairly big city and had been growing within recent years. There were so many local establishments now that Elide hadn’t been to a good majority of them.

“Me either,” Lorcan said, squinting his eyes as he looked at the menu.

Elide snorted. “I don’t know why you don’t just get reading glasses.”

“I don’t need reading glasses,” he grumbled, pulling the menu closer to his eyes. “I am not an elderly person.”

“I’m going to get you some for Christmas,” Elide joked. “Maybe with one of those little chains hooked onto it so that it can hang around your neck when you’re not using them.”

Lorcan shook his head, and all Elide could see was his eyes light up with humor above the top of his menu.

“I’m 25,” he said, pointedly ignoring her. “Not 75.”

The server came over to take their orders and once she walked away, that comfortable silence came back. After she dropped off their drinks and Elide took a sip of her hot chocolate, she cleared her throat.

“So,” she started. “Secret Santa. Did you get someone you’re close to? Or are you just winging it?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m winging it,” he drank deeply from his cold beer, regardless of the fact that it was well below freezing outside the foggy windows. “I know them. Not as well as I should, but… I don’t know. Shopping for a girl is hard.”

“So it’s one of us!” She said, leaning forward at the table and smiling at him.

Lorcan attempted to stifle his grin and failed. “Don’t even try begging me to tell you, I’m not going to.”

Elide batted her eyelashes. 

Lorcan just shook his head.

“Fine,” She crooned, sitting back in her chair, “But it’s going to be hard for me to help you if I don’t know who I’m shopping for.”

“I’m okay with that,” he replied, simply.

Elide scoffed. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why do you have to know everything?” He shot back, dark brow lifted. 

“Knowledge is important,” she replied.

“So are surprises,” he winked, bringing the brim of his glass to his mouth. 

“Ass,” she breathed, looking around at the quaint restaurant. It was clear that the store was the main attraction, but she liked the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant.

Granted it might have been the company she was keeping.

“So what’d you get your Secret Santa?” He asked, finishing his beer and flagging the waitress down. He asked for another, as well as a shot of peppermint vodka. Elide scrunched her nose at the strange request, but waited until she had left to respond.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she quipped. “You’ll see tomorrow.”

“Have you bought your gift?” He asked, after the server dropped the drinks off. Elide was taking a drink of her hot chocolate and shook her head when she finished. He said, “Take another drink. A big one.”

“What?” She asked, eyebrows lowering in confusion. “Why?”

“Just do it,” he chuckled.

She couldn’t deny him anything, even if she wanted, so she did, draining a quarter of the mug. Glancing to ensure the server wasn’t watching, Lorcan tipped the shot out and poured the minty liquor into her drink.

“Lorcan!” She whispered, scolding him. “What are you doing?”

“Try it.” He was smiling, a full smile and the sight of it was like a punch to the gut.

“I can’t. I’m not 21.”

He just leveled her with a look.

She was the youngest of their friends, still on 20 for a few more months, but that didn’t stop her from drinking when her friends were buying.

Elide just rolled her eyes and took a sip from her mug. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you’re trying to get me drunk, Salvaterre.”

Lorcan winked. “Good thing you know better.”

Elide laughed, taking another sip as the server brought their food. Elide took one look at her chicken sandwich before reaching across the table and grabbing a handful of Lorcan’s fries.

He smacked the back of her hand, gently, as it retracted back to her side of the table. “Get your own fries.”

“Why should I when yours are just as good?” She asked, brow raised.

She knew she was flirting, and she loved every second of it. She popped a fry in her mouth and chewed.

They are their meal, talking about this and that, the weird shenanigans that only their friend group could get into, and about what else they had planned for the holidays.

Unsurprisingly, aside from their Friends-mas party, neither of them had plans.

After they (meaning Lorcan) paid their bill, they made their way into the store.

“You know,” Elide started. “I sort of have this tradition on Christmas Eve.” She looked over at Lorcan and saw that he was watching her as they walked. She quickly averted her eyes and ran a finger over cutlery set. “Every year, I make hot chocolate, put on my coziest pajamas, curl up on the couch and watch the Grinch right before bed. And only the original cartoon!” She added quickly and mumbled, “None of this new CGI bullshit.” She heard Lorcan laugh under his breath. “You could come over…” She quickly added. “If you don’t have plans, I mean.”

They paused at a table piled high with candles.

“You’re asking me to come over and watch a movie with you,” he asked, cautiously. “Right before bed?”

Elide’s cheeks were burning and she knew they had to be as red as the cinnamon candle in front of her.

“I’d love to.”

Elise’s eyes snapped to his. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Elide blushed and averted her eyes to the table of candles. “Get your secret Santa giftee a candle. Women love candles.”

Lorcan slowly let his eyes fall away from Elide to the table. “Alright. Peppermint or sugar cookie?”

“Sugar cookie,” Elide responded with no hesitation. “Always pick sugar cookie.”

Lorcan chuckled and grabbed the candle, fighting his way back to the check out counter when Elide gasped from behind him.

Lorcan whirled to find her staring at a necklace within a case.

It was a single, brilliant opal, dangling from a dainty chain. It wasn’t large by any means, but it was simple. And it was beautiful.

Elide looked at the price tag and her face fell. Her meager salary from the diner she worked at would never allow her to buy such a luxury. The set amount for Secret Santa of $30 was a bit of stretch for her and this was almost four times as expensive as that. She turned away and headed toward the counter.

Lorcan looked at her retreating form, back to the lit case and then back to Elide slipping into the crowd. After a moment of hesitation, he followed her.

She hesitated as they stood outside the shop.

“Do you want to come over and hang out tonight?” She asked, and quickly added, “if you’re free, that is.”

Lorcan looked over his shoulder, at the large clock in the square. It wasn’t too late, but it was a Sunday night, and work would come early.

Just as Elide was about to tell him not to worry about it, he turned back to her, that small smile on his lips, and said, “Sounds good.”

Elide’s apartment wasn’t far from the street they were on, only a few blocks. Lorcan followed her, heart pounding, although he showed no sign of nervousness. He had never been alone with Elide in her apartment, and the thought had him shaken up.

A light snow had just begun when they began padding up the stairs to her apartment on the fifth floor. They had begun to build apartment complexes in the city higher and higher, and Elide was lucky enough to get a new one with a nice view.

Elide unlocked the door and allowed Lorcan to pass her and go inside. Without being asked, he left his snow-covered boots by the front door. “Nice place.”

“Thank you,” Elide said and smiled. “It’s not much, but it’s just me, so…”

A small, whining yawn from the couch reminded her that it, in fact, wasn’t just her. “Oh, and Oliver. He’s here, too.”

Lorcan chuckled, meandering over to the couch to scratch the small pup below his ear. He wagged his black and white spotted tail in response.

“So,” Elide began, rocking back and forth on her heels. She didn’t know why she attempted to begin a sentence because she had no idea what to say after her awkward and highly uncomfortable so.

“So,” Lorcan repeated. “Is this how you typically hang out with people, or…”

Elide narrowed her eyes. “No need to be a smart ass.”

Because no, it wasn’t. Elide didn’t have a difficult time entertaining others, but Lorcan? Alone with him? At night? In her apartment?

Elide had no idea.

She flopped down on the couch. “What do you want to do?” She looked around the room. “I have Netflix or old video games or books or-.”

“Books?” He laughed and sat down next to her. “What are you going to do? Read to me?”

And just like that, the awkwardness was gone.

She kicked him lightly. “Smart ass,” she repeated.

“Old video games, huh?” He asked, rubbing his jaw. “You wouldn’t happen to have Mario Kart, would you?”

She got up and rummaged through her entertainment center. She turned around and smirked. “Do you want to get your ass kicked on the original or the N64 version?”

It turned out that Lorcan had much more experience on the Nintendo 64 than he’d let on. After beating her on Rainbow Road no less than four times, they’d ended up watching a movie and throwing popcorn at each other. Oliver loved it, because anything that neither of them caught, he got to eat.

At half past midnight, after Elide yawned for the third time in five minutes, Lorcan finally left, giving her a hug and heading back out into the snow. He promised to text her when he got home, but Elide fell asleep before she got his text.

It was a hectic week before their Friends-mas party, and Lorcan had only been able to text Elide a few times. But the night of the Christmas party, when he walked into Rowan and Aelin’s new home and saw her wearing a radiant red dress, the breath was ripped from his lungs.

She caught his eye and smiled, softly. 

“You look beautiful,” he said, voice low, as she approached him. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied, giving him a head to toe scan. He tried his best to clean up, even though he hated wearing anything that required ironing. He settled on black slacks and a black button down shirt, his hair hanging loosely below his jaw, his chin.

He smirked, if only to try and hide the blush forming on his cheeks. “Can I get you something to drink?”

She lifted the glass of white wine in her hand. “Oh, trust me, Aelin already beat you to it,” she laughed.

“Fair enough,” he said. He inclined his head to the tables where people were beginning to get their food. “Sit with me at dinner?”

“Okay,” she smiled.

He didn’t miss the blush that darkened her cheeks.

They filled their plates with chicken, potatoes, veggies, and some kind of bread that was a lot fancier than anything Lorcan was used to. There was also a green bean casserole, which Lorcan demolished as if it were going to be the last thing he ever ate.

It was a fun night among friends, one that they all would remember for the rest of their lives. Memories were shared, goals were set, and inappropriate jokes from Aelin were dished constantly. They played games and did their secret Santa. Lysandra loved the sugar cookie candle so much that she threw her arms around his neck and pecked his cheek with a kiss. To Lorcan’s surprise, Aelin had drawn Lorcan’s name and his gift was not malicious in the slightest. He’d gotten him a nice black beanie from a brand everyone knew he constantly wore, and a fifteen-dollar gift card to his favorite store that Aelin claimed was to go toward a new pair of boots. In her words, his current boots were hideous.

He had even given her a side hug.

It was monumental.

Lorcan had never seen Elide smile so much. That beautiful smile practically never left her mouth, and Lorcan couldn’t stop himself from staring at it, at her.

She was too good for their world, too good for him. Lorcan knew that, but it didn’t stop him from constantly brushing his calloused fingers along the back of her pale, slender hand.

They were all dancing in the living room, Lorcan’s hands around Elide’s waist as a Christmas carol was being played on a violin over the speakers, when he asked, “Want to head to the back porch? I have a surprise for you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. “A surprise, huh?” She glanced across the room at Aelin, who had been watching Lorcan suspiciously the whole night. “Did she put you up to something?” Suddenly, their flirting seemed a little less natural. She stepped back.

He leaned down, his lips nearly touching her ear, and whispered, “No, this is all me, don’t worry about them. Come on.” He threaded their fingers together and he pulled her out onto the deck.

The snow was just starting to fall and Elide was wishing she would have grabbed her coat before they came out.

“Am I still coming over tonight?” He asked, as she carefully leaned against the railing. “Christmas Eve tradition and all that?”

“Of course,” she said, looking up at him. “I even bought new Christmas pajamas and everything.”

“I feel special,” he smiled and carefully brushed his lips against her cheek, a soft twin to the kiss she’d given him earlier. “I might have gotten you a second gift.”

She froze. “But, that wasn’t a part of secret Santa-”

“I know,” he interrupted. “But, you deserve it.”

Lorcan pulled a small, black box out of his pocket and handed it over to her. With shaky fingers, she lifted the top off and gasped. It was the necklace she had been admiring at the store the week before when they were together, the one she would never be able to afford.

“Lorcan, I can’t-.”

“Do you like it?” he asked, brows furrowed. “If you don't, you can-.”

“Of course I like it,” she laughed. “Lorcan, I love it, but you didn’t have to-.”

“Yes,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “I did.”

Elide didn’t blush this time. Instead, she looked up into his eyes, the box with the necklace in it clasped in her fingers.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “So much. It’s beautiful.”

“A beautiful gift for a beautiful woman,” he whispered back.

Elide rose up on her toes and pressed her lips softly, just once, to his. She no longer cared about the winter chill or the fact that a Christmas party was going on inside and Aelin was probably peering through the back window.

His fingers lightly brushed her jaw, and he pressed his lips to hers again. When she pulled back, she laughed softly and said, “I’ve been thinking about doing that for the longest time.”

He chuckled softly. “I have, too.”

Elide tossed her head back and laughed as Lorcan took the box from her hand and removed the necklace. She moved her hair to one side and he clasped it around her neck.

She fingered the charm and turned around to face him. “Can I ask for one more present?”

The smile on her face, he would’ve given her anything she wanted. “Of course.”

“Kiss me again,” she breathed.

And so, with all of their friends watching from inside, Lorcan Salvaterre pressed his lips to hers.

From inside the house, Fenrys nudged Rowan.

“That’s a damn Christmas miracle.”

[charliejrogers]

Gone With the Wind (Or, Why are we still talking about this?)

Beyond the second Godfather, Titanic, Avengers: Endgame, The Irishman, and Tarantino at his most indulgent (The Hateful 8) my experience with films over the 180-min mark is rather paltry. I haven’t seen many of those epic “classics” of days past, not because of disinterest, just lack of time. I’ll get to you yet, Doctor Zhivago! But that’s not the case for Gone With the Wind: I just never had any interest. Though I love Titanic, I never had interest in watching a four-hour love story from the 1930s. And for all it’s praise, I never knew anyone who had seen it, nor did I hear a lot of praise about it on online forums/websites. Perhaps because the internet tends to dominated by male voices who would rather tout gangster films than the passionate drama I was led to believe this film was. In sum, I just sort of took it for granted that Gone With the Wind was some all-time classic, but one which I would just never get around to seeing, and I was ok with that.

That changed in 2018, when Spike Lee used a scene from the film to start his own movie BlacKkKlansmen. Before this, I had never known there was ever any controversy surrounding a move that was supposedly as good if not better than Casablanca. Lee used the scene from Gone With the Wind (in addition to a scene from The Birth of a Nation) to criticize the way Hollywood has long served as a bastion for white supremacy, giving voice and platform to hateful speech and thoughts. In the case of Gone With the Wind, that means a work which embodies those hateful thoughts, and yet has been celebrated and praised despite doing so ad nauseum for 80+ years. At that point, I lost even more interest in the film, now not wanting to watch a racist movie.

Fast-forward to 2020 in the wake of George Floyd’s murder (among many other Black people killed by police recently and throughout American history) when HBO is under severe controversy for first putting Gone With the Wind on its streaming service, and then subsequently under more controversy for taking it down. A debate took place about censorship, free speech, and the other bullshit conservatives use to sustain their own beliefs while hypocritically arguing against when things don’t go their way. Regardless, for myself, in order to enter into the debate informed I felt like I wanted to know what the hubbub was all about. Frankly, I was curious to see why a movie that was so obviously racist was so adored.

Three hours and forty-five minutes later, I’m not really that sure. On the one hand, putting myself in the shoes of an audience member in 1939, the first half would have blown me away, with the drama taking place in Georgia at the very start of the Civil War up through its grand destruction under General Sherman. The colors and cinematography capturing the landscape of Georgia are just downright beautiful , unlike anything that had been in films prior. Yes, it’s not the first movie to be shot in color (nor was the Wizard of Oz which came out just 4 months prior), but I can’t imagine films before this were as devastatingly beautiful. Everything from the colors of the women’s dresses to the multiple picture-perfect sunsets pops out and catches your eye, and not in the fairytale, bubblegum way of Wizard of Oz. Gone With the Wind captures the natural beauty and colors of our world, and put it on display in a grand way. The cinematography really deserves every praise it gets.

The recurrent motif of characters’ shadows being casted onto the wall behind them during key emotional scenes was one I never tired of. Not only are the shadows beautifully captured by the camera, but, especially in a movie where every character seems to have a secret passion they refuse to express, the shadows strip away all our external beauties (make-up, facial features, dresses, and all the stuff this film has in spades), leaving us with figures that are still obviously human and whose feelings are immediately understood. All that is needed to convey grief is to see two shadows with the heads hung low.

The other positives of this film? Clark Gable is a handsome fucking man. He walks the fine line of confidence and smug so well that few others than, say, Brad Pitt could have ever performed the role of Rhett Butler so well. I particularly loved how he portrayed his relationship with his daughter, and the genuine love he showers upon her. Yes, he obviously spoils the child, but he’s so charming and so sincere that rarely have I seen such devoting love from father to daughter on screen, even 80 years later. As one character says, “there must be a great deal of good in a man who would love a child so much.”

But Rhett’s also kind of a despicable human being. He’s a brutish MAN, who loves his daughter because she is someone he can finally “completely own,” (an interesting choice of words said by a Southerner just after the Civil War) which is indicative of his philosophy towards love. Yes, love should be reciprocal, but his idea that his wife should exist in strict subservient, obedient love to him is ridiculous, yet he pursues it like it’s his right. He is otherwise prone to petty jealousy and drunkenness, and he is emotionally abuse toward his wife, Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh). It’s uncomfortable today to watch these scenes of abuse, like where he threatens to crush her skull to get the thoughts of another man out of her head, or where, after O’Hara makes abundantly clear that she never wants sex with Butler again, he in a drunken fit picks her up in order to carry her to bed, saying essentially “I know you said you didn’t want to but I’m going to fuck you.” After such deplorable behavior in a movie today, there would at least be ambiguity about Butler’s character or morality. Nope, not here. We see O’Hara the next morning essentially elated by the burst of passion that just a few hours earlier she was dreading and resisting. Throughout everything, Butler is held up as one of the film’s main heroes, growing from the film’s start as a noble rapscallion who values money too much and gradually evolves into a war hero who earns his people’s respect by protecting his people (and we’ll for argument’s sake just ignore that “protecting his people” means protecting men accused of doling out vigilante, lynch-mob justice which we can only assume implies the KKK). In sum, he’s a complex and charismatic character played wonderfully by Gable, but a character nevertheless that is problematic and would have been better served by a film as willing to highlight these problems as they are willing to highlight them in the film’s protagonist Scarlett O’Hara.

Yes, I’m a thousand words in, and I haven’t even started talking about the actual main character. The movie, for as much as it is discussed as being a love story between O’Hara and Butler or an ode to the Old South, is more a coming-of-age tale (in its first half) and a character study (in its second) focused on O’Hara. She starts the film out a vain, self-indulgent belle of the ball, but faced with the horrors of war and subsequent poverty, she becomes an embodiment of the rotten side of the American Dream: greedy, self-indulgent, and out-of-touch with the world she came from. I suppose that at the end of the film, abandoned by her husband, having lost both of her children, as well as her best friend, O’Hara’s revelation that she should return home to her family’s plantation is supposed to be suggest that she will seek redemption and give up her excesses. That’s fine with me, but I’m not sure the film deserves to just end it there and not allow us to see if she actually earns that redemption. I’m not saying I want MORE Gone With the Wind, just that the story feels incomplete in telling O’Hara’s full story arc.

Still, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching O’Hara’s tale unfold. It is always somewhat refreshing to watch film from decades’ past that refuse to present stories that are morally simple (not that I think people in the 30’s were incapable of complex morality, just that movies at the time tend to reflect more simple black-and-white values). To that extent, O’Hara is not a simple character, and is actually quite fascinating. She’s a ruthless capitalist and opportunist, much in the vain of her male counterpart, Butler. I’m curious to know how, for a country just starting to crawl its way out of the Depression and which in just a few short years would see the rise of Rosie the Riveter women, how O’Hara’s devotion to never be in poverty ever again (even if she has to “lie, steal, cheat, or kill”!) was perceived by audiences. Specifically, released at a time when gender norms were all but fixed, I wonder how men thought of her taking advantage of, and almost weaponizing, her femininity for her advantage, marrying three times not out of love but to better herself and survive. Yet, hypocritically she clings to the ideals of femininity of the past. Her use of her femininity to survive she accepts, yet she abhors the film’s stereotypical heart-of-gold prostitute for her moral licentiousness despite her good nature.

Throughout the film, especially in the later half, it was unclear to me how much we as the audience were supposed to like or dislike O’Hara. Yes, she’s hard-working, resilient, and acts heroically multiple times in the film. But she’s also kind of a child til the very end, obscenely jealous, while also cold and calculating, counting down the days til her best friend dies so that she can sleep with her husband. I liked that ambiguity. It made her feel like a real person. To some degree Leigh’s performance as O’Hara is undercut by histrionics and bouts of “hysteria” that were more common in film performances from that time, but which seem a little annoying and grating today. But damn if it isn’t a great performance, display the full emotional range in this film, from buoyantly bright and cheery, to desperate and despaired.

So yeah, I guess I do get why it’s considered a classic, or at least why it made such a splash in 1939. There was nothing like it! The cinematography is great, its characters are fascinating, complex, and engrossing, and the performances (by Gable in particular) are wonderful. But the elephant in the room, then but especially now, is that… damn… this movie is racist, like in its DNA. They double down on this at the VERY START! The fourth shot of the movie (FOURTH!), after first showing a sign announcing the studio who produced the film, then a look at the plantation-like building bearing the studio’s name, and finally some clouds at daybreak, is of slaves tending to crops. The image is set to a triumphant score while the overlaying text tells us that the movie will be based on Margaret Mitchell’s “Story of the Old South.” This is not done ironically. With the beautiful landscape and music, we as audience are to think, “Wow, what a great time this was.” At the end of the opening credits, the prologue text tells us that the antebellum South was the last in a long line of great lands. It’s the last time “gallantry” would exist, and “the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, or Master and of Slave.” Holy Shit. As if “Master and Slave” is something to celebrate?! “Those damn Yankees would destroy such a beautiful world!” the film argues. Again… not presented ironically. It’s pretty jarring.

That said, I do want to say that to a minimal degree that film is right when it just presents War (with a capital W) in general as a destructive force that either destroys lives outright, or destroys enough property to send lives to ruin. That’s a truth propagated by media as far back as the Iliad, and is sometimes shown effectively here, such as the oft-discussed slow-pan show of the countless Confederate bodies lying dead on the ground mid-way through the film. It’s a depressing sight on an apolitical human level. But, at the same time, the movie’s inability and refusal to address the reason those bodies are there in the first place (racist need to continue slavery), and instead obliquely suggest that the Antebellum South was without any suffering until those damn Yankees brought them ruin is, frankly, insulting and disgusting. It outright ignores the suffering of Black people in favor of highlighting the suffering of whites. A tale unfortunately told ab aeterno in America.

I know others can, have, and will say more about the treatment of Black characters within the film and how they serve only to reinforce negative stereotypes. Mammy, despite being wonderfully acted by Hattie McDaniel, and other house slaves are presented as being eternally grateful to have been enslaved to their white masters, so much so that even after the war they continue to serve them --- because why would they ever want to do differently?! (the film seemingly asks and answers). After the war, Scarlett is more than willing to accept that her lumber mill should be worked by convicts who will be paid less than other workers and suffer harsh treatment, arguing that it is no different than slavery and that has always been ok. WHAT?! And Prissy, the slave who reassures Scarlett that she knows everything about birthing babies, up until the point where her knowledge is needed and she turns out to be nothing more than an airheaded twit, has to be one of the ugliest depictions of a slave I have seen. Particularly, she serves little more than really bad comic relief… with the joke seemingly just being “wow look at how stupid and annoying slaves were.”

This is more than I intended to write, so I won’t go on, but I think everything I had to say has been said. It’s a beautifully shot film, with rich, deep, and complex characters that would be even better served in a movie more willing to dive into the moral ambiguity of their characters, and for Butler in particular not bend over backwards to make him look like a good guy. And I get why it made such an impact 80 years ago, especially in that first half where there’s all the excitement of war and some notable action set-pieces. But even taking out the significant problems the movie has with race, it’s hard for me to understand anyone considers this essential viewing for anyone today besides those with an interest in cinematography, film history, or interested in how race is presented on screen. Its proto-feminist Scarlett O’Hara and her role within an evolving economy and evolving societal ideas of what “love” is are interesting, but they certainly not things that are worth the average viewer’s nearly four hours’ worth of time. It’s a museum piece, one that captured the spirit of a time (and the decades beyond it) where Hollywood felt it was completely OK to romanticize life under slavery, and bemoan its destruction by Yankees. If you want to see this museum piece, go ahead, but don’t let anyone convince you it’s one of the all-time greats.

***/ (Three and a half out of four stars)

Capsule Review: Long movie with great performances and beautiful cinematography... also racist to its core.