#i also think the comedy potential of one of your boyfriends HATING your other boyfriend is gold. 10/10 dynamic

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[eurekq]

@scummiezzz EEK thank you for askinggggg :]

Lorigame (working title; hopefully will be replaced. Eventually) is a dating sim that I'm working on! I'm one of the main writers and the main artist. My friend joan @gullethead is our other main writer, seb @bastiantj is on coding, music and supplemental art, and fish @fish-mouth is our beautiful perfect project manager.

You play as Lorelei Kirch, a 21 year old engineering major at the University of Illinois, who happens to be the half-human daughter of a succubus. Lori is sweet, charming, bubbly, and both emotionally and academically intelligent. She's also attention obsessed and not shy of using underhanded means to get it. You start the game in a questionable poly relationship with your high-school boyfriend of five years, Julian, and your more recently acquired college fling, Mav.

Julian's half human, half demon, just like you, and a massive sweetheart and goofball; he's also incredibly busy, lacking impulse control, insecure about your relationship, quite frankly a bit cringe, and fucking hates Mav's guts.

Mav is a listless immortal, the daughter of a dryad and a succubus, who in lieu of finding a purpose has instead devoted herself to pure hedonism and skirt chasing over the past 600 ish years. She's laid back, fun, adventurous, and always knows how to make you laugh; shes's also a total mess, incapable of actual commitment, high 24/7, and fucking hates Julian's guts.

This tenuous state of affairs naturally comes crashing down within the first week of your senior year. During this time you also meet Urielle, the other woman in you and Mav's relationship, an actual archangel and, for some reason, a League of Legends fanatic, and Dante, a dryly sarcastic and seemingly normal human bartender who saves you and Julian's asses at the start of the game.

The game takes place over your full senior year, and all four romance options have at least one good and two bad endings, as well as three poly relationship options with their own sets of endings. We also wanted to focus on giving an incentive to still hang out with characters whose routes you aren't doing; unromanced LIs and other characters, like your roommates, will still be influenced to a degree by how you treat them.

Other miscellaneous things I figure make sense for a summary: Main theme of the game is growing up, in whatever form that takes depending on your route: for some routes that's mainly about your LI, for some it's you. We wanted to give the bad endings and nastier options in general a lot of room in the writing instead of just having them be afterthoughts, and also wanted to lean into the nice or obvious thing to say not always being the best for the character or your relationship. The supernatural elements are mostly played for comedy ala Monster Prom, but tie back into the themes of the game, especially in certain characters' routes.

Another important aspect is Lori herself; I wanted to stay away from my ultimate pet peeve of the blank slate dating sim protagonist and make a character who really shines in between player dialogue choices and has a real mind of her own, sometimes even saying things that you might not exactly want her to say. I think from what we have now she's quite charmingly terrible, and has a lot of wiggle room to push her in a better, or, if that's your thing, worse direction.

The game is heavily based on my time in school (specifically at UIUC, hence the very specific setting) and I really wanted to use that setting to its fullest potential instead as just a backdrop. As such the game focuses a lot on things like fraternities, UIUC bar culture, and the frenzied engineering academic/social experience that I had.

We have all of the writing prepared for a playable demo, several music tracks, and concrete plans for the UI, and I'm slowly chugging through sprites. Hopefully there'll be a demo sometime in the next few months!

[sunrisefairy]

Swipe right

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: language, mentions of cheating/breakup, alcohol 

Summary: The one where Y/N downloads tinder after a bad breakup

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972​ @inglourious-imagines​ @klausdatprettyboi​ @georgeweasleyswhre​​ @horrorxweasley​​ @amourtentiaa​​ send me an ask if you would like to added!

————————————————————————

Y/N hated being single. She hated not having anyone waiting for her with dinner cooked and a glass of wine when she got home from work. She hated how empty her bed felt and not having anyone to cuddle after a tough week. She hated no one being there to listen to her ranting about her day. Y/N absolutely missed being in a relationship and being able to go through life with someone else by her side.

Y/N’s last relationship was 8 months ago, she had been with her ex Matthew for 6 months when it came crashing down. Y/N remembers the night she met Matthew vividly. Her friends had dragged her to some concert at this random underground bar. Y/N was at the bar ordering drinks when a breathtakingly handsome man with blond shaggy hair and piercing blue eyes offered to pay for the 3 beers she was ordering. Normally, Y/N would roll her eyes and not bother talking to random drunk men, especially when it was a girl’s night out like tonight. But something about Matthew caught her attention and she couldn’t walk away even if she wanted to. Matthew had this aura about him, he was very charismatic and could captivate anyone with his looks alone leaving those around him putty in his hands. Which is exactly what happened to Y/N.

Matthew and Y/N started dating shortly after that and she was completely smitten with the man. He seems to be just what Y/N needed. To Y/N he was the perfect boyfriend, he held all the traits she looked for in a partner, kind, funny, smart, supportive, everything except the trait which would be argued to be the most important – loyal. 6 months into their seemingly flawless relationship Y/N found Matthew-her supposedly perfect boyfriend, in bed with another girl.

The second Y/N saw the two of them in a rather compromising position in Matthew’s bed, Y/N felt her world collapse around her, her throat closed over making it hard to breath and her vision blurred. The events that followed are hazy in Y/N’s mind, she remembers screaming and yelling, she knows there had been a lot of tears (mostly from her), Matthew trying to beg for forgiveness, which is very hard to do when you’re butt naked and there potentially was a few items thrown in Matthews direction, deservingly so.

That night broke Y/N, it felt like Matthew had reached into her chest and yanked out her heart and crushed it to dust then spat on it. Apparently, douchebag Matthew and this girl had been shagging for basically the whole of his and Y/N’s relationship. She couldn’t believe it.

Y/N’s friends had spent most of the weeks that followed in the heartbroken girl’s apartment as she cried, screamed, yelled. It pained them to see their best friend so distraught. But surely, over time and with lots of ice cream and alcohol, Y/N was able to heal.

8 months later Y/N finally felt mostly whole again, she was able to smile and laugh without a hollow ache pounding in her chest and tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She no longer dreamt of Matthew’s arm wrapping around her and pulling her into his chest when she dozed off, she forgot how it felt to kiss him and she stopped wanting to call him.

Y/N finally felt free, which she told Alicia and Angelina at their weekly girl’s night in. This led to Alicia trying to convince her to maybe start dating again, to test the waters as she put it.

“Okay, hear me out,” Alicia says waving her arms, somehow managing not to slip her wine on the couch, “I think Y/N should download tinder.”

Y/N scoffs and opens her mouth to disagree, but her words went unheard as Angelina squealed in excitement, “oh my god yes! Y/N you so should.”

Y/N shakes her head before sipping on her wine, enjoying the sweet taste on her lips. “Guys, I don’t think I’m ready to start dating, I definitely don’t think I’m ready for another relationship.”

“But that’s why tinder is so great, you don’t have to go on any dates if you don’t want to. You can just chat to some cute boys and see what happens.” Alicia replies, picking up Y/N’s phone from the coffee table and holds it out for her to unlock.

Y/N thinks for a moment, eyeing her phone, she doesn’t feel ready to jump into the dating scene still nervous about being let down again but there’s no harm in downloading tinder and seeing her options, right?

Y/N eyes are locked on her phone Alicia’s hand before muttering fine and unlocking it for her. Angelina giggled excitedly, moving closer to Alicia’s side to look at the phone. A few moments later the app was downloaded, and a profile was made. The 3 girls took turns swiping through profiles ogling the eye candy.

The phone was currently in Angelina’s hand while Alicia refilled everyone’s glasses, Y/N had lost count of how many glasses of wine she’s had tonight, her body buzzing from the alcohol. “Man, I forgot how much fun tinder is.” Angelina slurred, her thumb rapidly swiping through profiles.

“Okay Ang, we won’t tell Fred that you said that.” Y/N chuckles, Angelina just rolls her eyes.

“Oh, come off it.”

~ ~ ~

The next morning the 3 very hungover girls who had passed out in different spots of Y/N’s living room, somehow manage to drag themselves to brunch with Lee, Fred and George.

“Hello ladies, big night?” Fred winks then plants a sloppy kiss on Angelina’s cheek who mumbles a response that sound vaguely like a yes.

The 6 of them were sitting at a table outside, soaking up the sunshine and warm weather. Once their food is delivered the group is chatting aimlessly with one another. Y/N hears her phone ping from her bag, and she fishes it out to check the notification.

“Ohh, Y/N is it a tinder message?” Alicia says excitedly trying to peer over her shoulder.

“Tinder?” It’s George’s voice now. Y/N glances up at him from across the table, unable to read his expression, “since when does Y/N have tinder?”

“Since last night, the girls convinced me to download it. Kinda seems like time to start getting out there again.” Y/N replies shoving her phone back into her bag before one of her friends has the chance to snatch it from her even though the text was just from her mother.

“Maybe you should download tinder Georgie. ‘Bout time you got yourself a girlfriend.” Lee mumbles, his mouth full of food.

George shakes his head, looking down at his plate, “tinder isn’t for me. Besides your one to talk Lee, you’re single too.”

“Not anymore, I want to marry this eggs benedict.” Lee practically moans as he shovels another bite into his mouth.

Y/N laughs along with everyone, shaking her head slightly.

“I think you should George, I’d bet money that your dream girl is on there.” Fred smirks at George whose eyes widen at the comment and his cheeks heat up.

“Can we change the subject,” the redhead mutters scratching his neck, not meeting anyone’s gazes.

The conversation quickly moves on and Y/N finds herself still staring at George confused by his strange behaviour, also noticing the way her chest feels heavy at the mention of George’s ‘dream girl’. She pushes the feeling down and tears her eyes away from the redhead in front of her just before he glances up at her. The pair oblivious to the others intense gaze.

~ ~ ~

That night Y/N is snuggled up under her favourite fluffy blanket, on the couch, while some random romantic comedy is playing in the background.

Y/N has soon come to realise that tinder is addictive, she’s spent the better part of the last hour swiping through the many profiles. It doesn’t feel like she even has control of her fingers at this point, they apparently have a mind of their own.

Y/N starts to zone out, her finger automatically swiping for her. That is, until she stumbles across a particular profile and her finger freezes and her eyes bulge out of her head. Is that? George?

Y/N looks through his profile, there’s a picture that she had taken of him at the beach one summer, he’s lying on a towel, shirtless and the cheekiest grin plastered across his face. The next photo is of him and Ron from Harry’s surprise birthday Ginny threw last year. They are both looking smart in their suits, beaming brightly at the camera. Y/N can’t help but stare at George’s hand that’s wrapped tightly around a beer bottle, her mouth going dry as she zooms in on his veiny hand. There is also a photo of George from last Halloween where he had dressed as a pirate, Y/N chuckles, remembering how George had followed her around for most of the night, annoying her with his lame and corny pirate jokes. The last photo is her favourite out of them all. It’s of her and George at her recent birthday, he has his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his head resting against hers. The pair of them smiling widely at the camera.

Y/N bites her lip trying to decide if she should swipe left or right. She’s always had a soft spot for George long before she started dating Matthew. She knew deep down she harboured a tiny crush on her friend but never acted on it, scared she’ll ruin their friendship if she confessed her feelings. Y/N always fantasised about what it would be like to date George Weasley. She would happily bet her life savings that George would be the perfect boyfriend, would treat his girlfriend with respect and shower them with love and affection. It’s the type of relationship Y/N yearned for, the type of relationship she thought she had with Matthew.

Y/N stared down at the phone in her hand, contemplating her next move. The temptation to swipe right was huge, finally being able to find out if George liked her but there was the possibility that if she does swipe right she’ll find out that George does not like her in that way and she doesn’t know if she could physically take that knowledge right now. Part of her debates on swiping left, thinking that way she can live her life blissfully unaware to whether or not George likes her. The idea of being unsure of his feelings seems very appealing then definitely knowing he sees her just as a friend. A small voice in her head tells her to just delete the app and pretend this never happened.

Y/N groans at her overthinking.

Just choose Y/N.

“Fuck it,” Y/N mutters squeezing her eyes shut before swiping right.

She keeps her eyes closed for a few minutes, trying not to picture the upsetting scenario where they do not match, and Y/N has to deal with her unrequited feelings towards the boy. She takes a deep breath and slowly opens her eyes trying to focus back on the phone in her shaky hand. It takes a moment to process the words on the screen before Y/N is jumping up from the couch squealing.

It’s a match!

Her happy dance is interrupted when her phone dings, indicating a new message. Y/N swears her heart stops beating and she scrambles onto the couch to grab her phone.

George: Do my eyes deceive me or have I captured the attention of the lovely Y/N?

Y/N snorts at his message, butterflies erupting inside her stomach unable to get over the fact that George Weasley likes her.

Y/N: Consider yourself lucky Georgie, not many are worthy enough of my attention ;)

Y/N: But wait, I thought you didn’t have tinder? You said tinder wasn’t for you

George: I didn’t… well up until 1 hour ago. Fred convinced me to download it so I could try and find your profile. He said I should at least try and confess my feelings…

Y/N: And? What are your feelings?

George: that I am hopelessly in love with you. Have been since forever but I’ve been too chicken to admit it.

George: I was going to tell you I swear, but then you started dating that tosser Matthew and I lost my chance.

George: After you two broke up, Fred bugged me to say something to you but I knew it wasn’t the right time.

Y/N studies the messages. Long before Matthew was even a thought in her mind, she knew she would leap at the opportunity to date George. But that was before she had her heart shattered into a million of tiny pieces. She told Alicia and Angelina that she wasn’t ready to date, she didn’t think her heart could take it. And if this was any other guy, she would gently let them down. But this wasn’t just any guy, this was George Weasley. The man who never failed to make her smile and laugh till tears was streaming down her face. The man who help pick up the shards of her heart and help mend it back together. The man who would always answer her phone call, no matter the time of night. Y/N knew she’d be stupid to let go of George Weasley.

~ ~ ~

George was a wreck; he was pacing around his living room basically pulling out his hair with how much he’s run his fingers through it. It had been 30 minutes since he messaged Y/N and admitted his feelings, telling her he loves her. And she hasn’t replied!

George knew he shouldn’t have said anything, clearly Y/N was just curious about his profile, just wanting to see if they’d match and she definitely does not love him back let alone like him.

He wanted to throttle Fred for convincing him to make this stupid tinder account and embarrassing him like this, now George has gone and fucked up his friendship with Y/N.

George stops pacing when he hears knocking from his front door. His eyebrows knit in confusion about who would be visiting him at this hour. George chooses to ignore it, deciding he doesn’t want to see anyone right now, all he wants to do is open some vodka and drown his sorrows. He makes it into the kitchen when the knocking starts back up again, this time louder and faster.

“Okay I’m coming!” George shouts annoyed, “Jesus, I swear this better be import-” his words disappear as soon as he opens the door and is faced with Y/N.

“What are you doing here?” Georges words come out short and brunt, but Y/N doesn’t seem to notice.

She is fiddling with her fingers and anxiously chewing on her bottom lip. “I figured this wasn’t really a conversation I wanted to have over tinder.”

Y/N is silent, the words getting stuck halfway up her throat, she doesn’t really trust her voice to be steady enough to talk. So, she decides on another route of communicating her feelings to George.

Slowly she cups Georges faces in her small hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. George seems frozen still as Y/N softly pulls his face to down towards hers, their lips millimetres from one another. She can feel his shaky breath on her face. It feels like forever before Y/N connects their lips together, George seems to snap out of his trance as his hands wrap tightly around Y/N’s waist, holding her body close. Their lips mould together perfectly and fireworks erupt in Y/N’s belly. She feels alive and her heart is thumping in her chest and all she can think of is George. George is clouding her thoughts and, in this moment, she doesn’t want anything else to ever occupy her brain. Her heart feels warm and whole as if George had kept the final piece of her heart in his possession to keep save until she was ready and willing to give him the whole thing. Y/N doesn’t feel scared anymore of the thought of loving someone again because she knows for certain now that she’s always loved George.

They pull away from the kiss, breathlessly, George rests his forehead against Y/N’s needing to feel close to her still.

A tear slips from Y/N’s eye which George softly kisses away.

“I love you too George. Always”

[oldpotatoe]

to make up for the Other Thing, today i thought about a backwards flwogb. trickster spirit gives sokka a lil head bonk and instead of losing his memories gives him false ones based on his own wishful thinking, where he and zuko have been dating even though they aren’t, and wakes up like “oh zuko no worries babe *smooch * i’m fine” and zuko, who has been secretly in love with him forever, is like “🙂 ....excuse me what” (potential for comedy? yes. potential for zuko angsting??? also yes 🥰)

backwards flwogb... aka... feels like we only go forwards? I may have failed a-level maths, but even I know two negatives equal a positive. quick maffs

god blee your brain though. imagine sokka, who before this moment had grown a tad too touchy feely with zuko anyway-- hand lingering too long on zuko's shoulder, hugs that were tight in the best of ways, a quick ruffle of hair in passing that always annoyed zuko at first before that very same hand would tuck the now-loose strands behind his good ear, making zuko blush in the process-- that very same sokka now grabbing zuko by the collar and pulling him in to plant a massive smooch on his cheek.

"you worry too much, babe," says sokka with a fond eye roll, pushing himself off the bed.

zuko just stands there and tries not to self-combust. "oh no."

because how much of this new sokka is the bump to the head, and how much is it just... sokka losing his inhibitions + muddling his daydreams together to think he and zuko are already a thing?

but zuko doesn't know this. zuko thinks he's just taking advantage of sokka in this vulnerable state. tries to avoid him at all costs. talks as little to him as possible, and pretends he doesn't see the hurt look on sokka's face. holes himself up in his office and hopes the self-loathing doesn't hurt bury everything he's worked so hard to build within himself these last x years

but also insert shenanigans where sokka tries His Damnedest™ to arrange cutesy dates with zuko/ give him back massages to relieve his stress-- haha sokka baby don't you know you ARE the stress--/ basically tries his best to be a good attentive boyfriend while everyone around them is like, "uhh... do we... say? anything? is the fire lord being harassed by the swt ambassador?" (what's the atla version of HR, I wonder?)

until one day, zuko finds himself giving up, giving in to the urge of just... letting himself be loved by the object of his affections. being selfish never felt so good. doesn't help the way he hates himself, for letting sokka believe in the lies he spins around himself while zuko just stands there and watches helplessly.

it can't last. the guilt gets too much. zuko gently breaks up with sokka. "I just don't feel the same about you," he lies through gritted teeth, heart aching. "oh," says sokka, heartbreak evident in his voice and his face and every line of his body and. and zuko can't do this anymore. he flees to iroh's teashop, taking up his allocated days off to serve tea mindlessly, avoiding iroh's gentle prodding and generally being miserable.

anyway when sokka [insert fix to head that resets him a la buzz lightyear spanish mode] and regains his memories, the first thing he does is go storming to ba sing se, absolutely pissed.

"you idiot," he says. "why?"

zuko's mouth flaps open and shut. "uncle's having a sale on the ginseng," he says uselessly, "buy two cups and get the third one--"

"shut UP," growls sokka, crowding into zuko's space. the old ladies on table 4 ooh and aah over this exciting new development to their lunchtime pai sho session. iroh quietly tops up their tea.

"I saw the way you looked at me," says sokka, a lot more quieter now. "when I thought we were together. you-- you love me, don't you?"

and what can zuko say to that, except-- "yes," he says, eyes slipping shut in shame. "I'm sorry for not ending it sooner, I never meant to take advantage of you, I--"

a hand, warm and calloused, winds it's way through the strands slipped loose out of zuko's bun, tucking them behind his ear. it's the same way sokka's always done it, a quietly intimate moment in the otherwise loudness that's always accompanied their interactions. what's new is the way the hand cups his cheek, prompting zuko's eyes to flutter open.

"I love you too," he says.

zuko finds his hand drifting up to clasp sokka's, pushing it away. "you-- you're still-- it's still the-- sokka, it wasn't real--"

"it's always been real to me," says sokka like it's a confession. "I've been in love with you for a long time, now. the head bump just made it-- more."

"aww," say the little old ladies from the back. iroh wipes a tear away from his cheek, gratefully accepting a napkin from mrs ling.

"oh," says zuko, still uselessly, but with a growing warmth in his chest. "well."

"... I tell you all that," disbelief lines sokka's voice, "and all you can say is well? I practically swam across the oceans for you! I had to drop all my duties-- do you even know the shit that's waiting for me when I get back? ambassador chengueng's going to have my head on a-- oomph."

yeah they're kissing. half the jasmine dragon is applauding. the other half is grumbling about terrible service and uncomfortable displays of public affection. iroh just shoves coupons upon the latter and shoves everyone except his hopeless nephew and his equally hopeless was-then-wasnt-now-is-boyfriend out the doors, the end.

[broadwayandnetflix]

OMG- BO FIC REQUEST

a fluffy fic where he takes you out to a fancy dinner. picks you up at your house & meets your parents, driving to the place, all that pizazz- and more if you decide to write! Im a big fucking sucker for the romantics as you can see LMFAO.

Meet The Parents - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff! Slight bit of Angst.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: picture this as like his what tour cause it fits up with the college timeline hoes. also, I hope you like that I added an airport, cause rom-com shit amirite? I’ll stop. wooooooo this is so long. I hope y’all like essays cause fuck.

It had been too long since you had last seen your boyfriend, Bo. The two of you had met in college at NYU briefly before he dropped out to pursue his comedy career.

Of course, you have been supportive. Why wouldn’t you be? You just really missed him, especially when he went on long tours, you in school, and him touring the world.

The two of you kept in touch. Bo often taking the time to call you before or after a show to hear your voice and call himself down. You knew what they did to his anxiety, and not being able to hold each other was difficult for the both of you.

He’d do the same for you, without a shadow of a doubt. Especially when school was stressing you out, and exams and essays were becoming a pain in the ass to handle. Even if it was just little funny texts or messages, he helped you.

It’s what you did for each other. You were a team, even if it was states away from each other. Except, luckily for you, his tour was ending soon. Or it should be, judging by the tiny calendar of dates that he gave you.

It was nearing Thanksgiving Break, and it just didn’t seem applicable that you’d be able to meet up in time. Given the short week window and Bo riding down from nearly a year of touring.

So you didn’t say much, as you packed your bags for the week and left for your home state.

The airplane ride wasn’t that bad. You wished that you had Bo beside you, cracking jokes to calm the inevitable way that your heart would jolt when you went up in the air. Unlike Bo, you absolutely hated flying.

Earbuds in, you strolled into the airport a tad bit jet-lagged and went to grab a bite from a small coffee shop. Slipping the cashier a twenty, you walked the airport in search of your luggage.

Through a sea of people, you trudged, already feeling fatigued and just wanting a nap. You didn’t even realize that you were gonna run smack dab into someone. That is until their hand shot up and held you steady.

You laughed pathetically and cringed quickly, going to apologize, hoping that the person who caught you would just keep moving on. Except, they still stood in front of you, silent as ever.

“Hey man look I’m so sorry, I’m just so tired I didn’t even see where I was going.” you mumbled before realizing just who you were speaking to.

Bo.

You froze, staring at the man in pure confusion. How was he here when he was supposed to still be on tour? You rubbed your eyes, wondering if he’d still be there when you reopened them.

News flash, Bo was still there. Fuck.

“Holy shit,” you murmured, realizing your hands were still full with your bag, phone, and lunch.

God, you were gonna cry; this wasn’t happening. He looked so fucking good, the glasses, the hair.

He watched you quietly, a soft smile resting upon his lips. While you clumsily pull on his arm to get out of the ongoing traffic of people around you, preferably a spot with a place to put your stuff.

Your tall boyfriend lumbering after you unbeknownst to you, trying to compose himself. It had practically been months since he had seen you last, and you had never looked more beautiful.

Once you set them down gently, you practically ran into the man’s arms. His bags gently fall to the floor as his arms are securely wrapped around you. Nearly lifting you off the ground.

The two of you rocked gently in the embrace, completely lost in each other. Bo resting his head on top of yours, pressing soft kisses upon your head. Tears softly pour down your cheeks and onto his shirt. Giving him enough time to wipe them away and plant a soft kiss against your lips.

“Bo, what are you doing here? I thought you were still on tour.” you sniffled, still wrapped up in his arms.

“Managed to make things work, I wanted to see you. Or I was gonna try and surprise you at the gate, but you kinda…ran into me.” Bo smirked, looking down at you.

“Well you definitely surprised me, man I really missed you.” you said quietly.

“Honey, you don’t understand how long I’ve waited for this moment. I swear my agents are probably sick and tired of me talking about you.” he exclaimed, causing you to smile.

This long-distance was really starting to get to the two of you; of course, his tour was gonna be over soon. Except, especially two different states away from each other, it made your heart hurt.

Moments like these, you wanted to just pause the time and exist in them forever. It seemed like between the two of you, you were running out of time. Just how much time exactly?

It was almost as if he could sense the hesitation as he swept up his bags and yours in the process.

“Just realized, we’ve got places to be.” he chirped, and you eyed him curiously.

“Like where?” you said, grabbing your coffee and bag from the coffee shop.

“Patience is a virtue my dear.” he tuts and slips his hand between yours. “Now, where’s your luggage terminal?”

-

It was roughly a forty-minute drive from the airport to your place. Bo had rented a car for the next couple of days, so it was smooth sailing from that point on.

Bo behind the wheel, and you are sitting in the passenger trying to figure out what music to play.

It didn’t help that you were in the car with a comedian, as whatever song you picked, Bo would pretend to critique it. Only sending you into a fit of hysterics.

“Oh okay, well you pick the music then!” you cried, pretending to stare daggers at him.

“I’ve got something for you, it’s this brand new artist I found while on tour.” he grinned, looking over at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

“His name is….Bo Burnham I think? I could be wrong? He was good-“ he said nonchalantly before earning a quick swipe to his arm from you.

“God, you look cute when you’re angry. You’re missing out on that Bo Burnham guy, he’s got potential.” he said.

“I hate you.” you giggle before finding a more comfortable position in the car.

“Oh shit you know what I just realized?” Bo yelped, causing you to slightly jolt in your seat.

“What?”

“Isn’t this the first time I’m meeting your parents?” he asked, causing you to slightly stiffen in your seat.

Technically, yes. It wasn’t like your parents didn’t know, it’s more so that there was never really a good time for them to meet. You wondered what they’d think, dating someone who dropped out of college to pursue comedy.

Not that your parents were judgmental. They wanted you to be happy, as any parents would. You just were worried if they wouldn’t respect and love Bo as much as you did. It had been close to two years at this point; what else did you have to lose?

“You are right, oh dear god. I wonder how that’s gonna go, hopefully well, right?” you ask, more so to yourself than Bo.

“Oh please, I’m great with people’s parents. Plus, they raised you, I’m sure they are great people. Babe, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” he reassured before continuing on the route.

-

It wasn’t long before he pulled into your family driveway, pulling the car into park, quickly placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You ready?” he says quietly, looking at you sweetly.

You eyed the front door before looking back and meeting his eyes, nodding, as he leaned in to give you a quick kiss.

God, you missed those.

“Here goes nothing.” you smirk before slipping out of the passenger side and gather your bags.

Bo now follows suit as you knock on the door, his taller frame towering over you. One hand pressed on the small of your back, holding you steady.

The front door opens with a swing, with your mother greeting you at the door. A firm grin upon her lips as she rushes out to hug you, your father appearing behind her.

“Oh I’m so glad you were able to come home! We missed you so much!” she exclaims, squeezing you tighter.

Before giving you a slight nudge and knowing look towards Bo, who had remained oblivious, while he shook hands with your father.

All of you gather inside your house, Bo taking control of the conversation when acceptable.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, your parents are engulfed in his stories and laughing at his jokes. All the while getting to know the man that you loved so much.

Bo was pretty much a natural when it came to impressing others, and you knew it wasn’t gonna be an issue with your parents.

The two of you answering almost any questions, Bo excitingly telling the story of how the two of you met.

-

“Oh I almost forgot, I need you to do me a favor.” Bo murmured when the two of you had a moment to be alone.

You looked up at him in confusion before he mentioned something about dressing up nice. A knowing look upon his lips before giving you a slight wink and walking off towards the guest room.

There you stood, gaping like a fish in wonderment at what he possibly could be planning. Slowly walking into your childhood bedroom, looking for anything that would meet his description of nice.

You settled for something that you wore to a formal gathering that still managed to fit you. Giving yourself a quick look in the mirror, you left your bedroom to find Bo standing there.

You had to hold back a gasp; the man looked rather handsome in a dress shirt and pants. His hair was nicely done, and his hand gestured out for you to take.

“Bo what is all this for?” you exclaim, as he only smirks and leads you towards the front door.

“Shut up, I’ve been wanting to take you out for months.” he says as he opens it and leads you towards his car.

The man practically doing the whole nine yards, all the while you looking at him in pure wonderment. Of course, the two of you had been on dates prior, but never like this.

You had to practically stop yourself from grinning as he suavely got into the driver’s side of the car., Giving a quick glance over at you unbeknownst to you, trying not to melt at how gorgeous you looked.

“Where are we going?” you ask as he starts the car slowly pulling out of the driveway.

“You ask a lot of questions my dear.” he says, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

“Oh shit is this my execution?” you smirk as he dramatically nods.

“Babe, how the hell did you find out? Who told you? Was it my manager? I knew she’d rat me out!” he exclaims.

“You know I had to be certain, you did make me dress up all nice and all.” you play along, grinning ear to ear.

“Oh well, I can’t give away the entire surprise so zip it with the questions sweetie.” he quips as he continues the drive.

-

It’s not long before he pulls into a fancy Italian restaurant, way out of your usual pay range. You could feel your stomach do somersaults, giving the man an incredulous look.

Bo simply grins as he gets out of the car, rushing over to open yours for you. Eyes wide, still staring at him like he was fucking insane. He shakes his head and carefully pulls you out of the car.

“Now no complaints. Or whatever you plan to do. I’m paying, I’ve been wanting to treat you like this for over a year now. I’m doing it, and I’m gonna enjoy doing it.” Bo huffs, all dignified.

You simply nod in disbelief before he slips his hand within yours. While he enters the restaurant, he mentions his reservations to the hostess, and they seat you at a table.

Once the butterflies subsided in your stomach, you took the attention of the man in front of you. Never had anyone done something like this for you. You were trying to not look like a genuine fool with the smile you wanted to express.

You knew he was the one for you, but the way that he had looked at you. The pure adoration in his eyes and how he had planned everything, you were practically melting.

“I love you.” you whisper, wondering if he could hear it.

He did.

Bo looked up from his menu, a blush now practically kissing his cheeks. He dimples, rising at the declaration before reaching across the table since he was large enough to kiss you gently.

He was quick enough as the waitress came over to take your order. That goofy lovesick grin still plastered across his face as he straightened up in his seat.

The two of you ordering whatever looked best on the menu, clinking glasses when they arrived and looking dreamily into each other’s eyes.

“Man, I missed you. Like I know I say it a lot, but I mean I did. Going on tour is….well it’s lonely. I know you’re still in school, but sweetie. When I’m done, you’ll be sick of me. I promise.” Bo said insistently.

“No I won’t, I’m sure it’s gonna be the other way around. I don’t know if I say it enough, but I really am proud of you. I am so proud to call you my boyfriend, to call you mine. I don’t mind waiting.” you say quietly.

“How did I get so lucky?” he paused, eyeing the plates of food that were coming your way.

“Thank NYU, they did all the work.” you joke, thanking the waitress before digging into the meals.

The food was excellent; it was incredibly worth the price. Even if it was steep, the dinner was lovely. Bo is cracking jokes and telling you his favorite fan encounters that have occurred since his tour began.

It was hard to believe that the man who was often so quiet and shy could be so loud and brave enough to yell at hecklers. Except you could believe it, you had obviously been to one of his shows.

It made your heart begin to flutter at the fact that he wasn’t afraid to be himself around you; it made you feel secure.

The way his stage presence dominated the scene, it was practically impossible to keep your eyes off of him. No matter the situation.

Even now, his eyes glimmer while he tells you whatever story he had dug up. This was his passion, and you reveled in it all.

The night went well as the two of you caught up, knowing it would be quite some time before he’d meet up with you again. As he too had Thanksgiving to celebrate with his family in Massachusetts.

You shared a nice dessert, and he left a rather hefty tip simply because he could. Bo never made it necessary to note that he had money, but you knew he was excited to spend it.

All the while, you spent the night in a dizzying smile. Not giving a shit whether anyone knew it or not, even in the parking lot. The two of you waltzing messily towards the car, giggling and sputtering like a bunch of fools.

He was your fool, and you were his, who knew how long you’d have with him for now. You were destined to make the most of it.

Even as the ride home dwindled and you knew he’d have to catch a flight soon. You weren’t surprised or shocked even; days with him tended to be like this.

As the two of you reached your front door, Bo carefully leaned down to a comfortable position and kissed you softly. Not desperately, just tenderly. As if by the time he’d kiss you again, you’d simply wouldn’t be there.

His lips grazing yours, hands pressed carefully against your cheeks. You reciprocating all the while leaning into him in a warm embrace.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, he gave you a look that you knew all too well.

“I’m not saying goodbye.” you whisper into his arms.

“I’ll be back soon don’t worry.” he murmurs into your embrace.

With one last kiss on the forehead, you watch as he walks back to his car. Judging by the way his schedule worked, you knew he’d be back sooner than he would in the past.

Yet, with the soft ‘I love you’ said between the two of you couldn’t help but shed a tear and just hope that the next time would last longer.

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

[potatotrash0]

Oh my god oh my god oh my god

I didn't actually think people would be interested but I love talking about this uwuwurhrh

-i don't think there is much to say, because this is one of those aus where I have scenarios but not the entire plot but uuhhh

-So basically it all happens because they're all fucking with the neo world program settings, and Hajime was put into the program

-With the mix of Nagito's luck, some romantic era machine fuckery, and the fact that Kamukura killed God long ago, they all get sucked into the simulation, back to the past.

-In the Class's point of View, two bitches fell out of a vortex and right in the middle of the diner. Hajime falling and hitting the floor and Nagito right on top of him. They still look like one of those anime shoujo type landings and Nagito makes no move to make themselves look presentable. He gives no fucks about the rest of his class standing there atm. Like he loves them but not as much as Hajime

-obviously, the room falls into panic when the sight of the two intruders are recognized. Souda and Nidai panicking and yelling because they thought they got rid of Nagito already? And they grab him but then Hajime is like, "stop ❤"

-after much questioning, and a lot of sweet sounding passive aggression from Nagito (which he makes sure everyone knows is intentional) they finally believe the two fancy looking men in suits (and komaeda's green jacket) are in fact, future versions of IG! Hajime and Nagito.

-They get flocked with questions immediately, about all kinds of things, especially with the arm (Nagito "accidentally" thwacks Souds in the head hard enough to make him cry) and Hajime's heterochromia.

-Hajime gives a bullshit answer that nobody is very convinced with, and Nagito, the better manipulator of the two, does not try to help him. Hajime takes this as a betrayal.

-Its also when Hajime looks at his boyfriend and then at his in game counterpart, that he remembers IG! Nagito is nowhere to be found. So they gotta bring him in.

-imagine being Nagito, starving and toed up in the other area of the building and some bitch who looks like the aged up and more mature and sexy version of your potential sugar baby crush just busts in like minutes after the OG straight up left him to his fate like a cold mf. I'd shit.

-Anyways, Nagito has always been the smartest person in that game from the get go, there is no doubt he figures out what's going on.

-PG! Nagito and IG! Nagito having a little,,,rivalry with eachbother. Not that they hate or even dislike each other (although they'd be passive aggressive to each other ig. Self esteem reasons ig). PG! Nagito finding his old self developing puppy love for PG! Hajime but also being a hit jealous because "hey! Your own boyfriend is there, give me mine."

-(PG! Hajime knows this, and teases his boyfriend about it.)

-Uuuuhhhh,,, blablahblah idk,,,the future komahina know what will happen and successfully manage to make sure no more killing. It pissed Monokuma off.

-When they depart, there are still many questions, and while the improv story of their life goes pretty smoothly, Hajime suffers from passive aggressiveness from both the class and his lover.

-this happens only once PG! Hajime spills that he and PG! Nagito are dating. Fiancé's, even.

-The passive aggressive war happens because the rest of the class thinks PG! Nagito is still evil and manipulative and are "subtly" leaving him hints, and Nagito, petty pretty bitch he is, makes sure everyone know he knows. He's making it everyone's problem and doing well so far.

-i think it would be funny if PG! Hajime kept pleading for his boyfriend to see reason qnd try to compromise and not start shit, and PG!Nagito taking it personally cause usually he gets spoiled and gets Hajime's attention but that's not happening right now.

-So he starts showing IG! Hajime affection. Straight up holds him close and kisses his cheek. The class already knows they're dating but holy fuck Nagito. PG! Haji is jealous.

-(And if Kamukura is still there lurking I his brain, he will be feeling both pride and jealousy. Dumbass jealous bastards, the three of them)

-i don't have much more plot for this, but I so imagine at some point Monokuma gets fed up by the fact that PG! Nagito is thwarting his plans and there is no killing, enough to the point where he nearly punishes him, with a collar to his neck and the spear of gungir about to fucking make a mess out of him, but while everyone else in class looks in horror, PG! Nagi looks perfectly relaxed and unafraid. The reason that is because between the terrifying, withering glare Hajizuru sends monokuma, and Nagito's insane luck, the simulation glitches and monokuma has to let him go.

-Meanwhile all of this is comedy central and angst central for the PG! Class watching this. They're not stuck forever, soda and Wild Destroyer are working on it, but ffs.

(I only realize now that there would be a lot of angst because of chiaki, but I'm not emotionally stable enough for angst atm. So fluff only.)

oh i love this so much dkfjskdbxkdb god. just. the absolute chaos that is them just. Popping out of nowhere lmao.

also imagine being monokuma and just being cockblocked from your beloved murders by one (1) little shit and his fiancé and knowing full well you can’t do jack shit about it skdjskndksbc.

also hhhhhhhh i forgot about chiaki but my heart is breaking just thinking about her gahhhhhh..............i imagine she and pg hajime and nagito would end up talking the night they appear. they’d fill her in on the real story and i could see hajime wanting to talk to her a while longer.

[randomobsessionsofa30something]

My top 10 korean dramas of 2020

Today is the last day of the year so I think it's time to share which dramas were my favorite in 2020. I wish you all the best for 2021!!

10.5. The King: Eternal Monarch. So here's the thing: this drama was not great. I absolutely hated the ending and the editing however I do appreciate what they tried to do. It had great potential and Lee Minho and Kim Go Eun were nice as a couple. The story is about two dimensions: one that is like the real world and another where Korea still has a king. The worlds start to mix and the King crosses, meets a detective, someone he has been looking for since he was a kid.

10. Find me in your memory. This drama was so much fun especially in the first half. I had a couple of issues with the last two episodes but nothing major. Moon Ga Yeon plays an actress that lost some of her memories and is trying to live in the moment. She meets a newscaster (Kim Dong Wook) and falls for him. However he has a disease that makes him unable to forget each and all details he has lived through. They both are unaware they share a bond that will link them but also puts them in danger.

9. Start up. This drama was silly at times but I really enjoyed it. Suzy stars in this drama as a sales employee that has gone through a lot because she chose to stay with her father after they parents got divorced who was an unsuccessful entrepreneur. She wants to show her sister and her mother she can be successful on her own so she applies to receive a grant (korean survival style). There she meets her childhood crush, a guy who she exchanged letters with or so she thinks. Nam Do San (Nam Joo Hyuk) is a guy that is trying to start up a company but has failed so far to get investors. When a famous CEO shows up at his door asking him to pretend to have written some letters he ends up getting dragged into a ruse to cheer up this girl except she shows up in what was his last chance to make it.

8. Kairos. I started watching this drama just because WINNER's Kang Seung Yoon had a role in it. At the beginning I thought I wasn't gonna love it because of the time travel aspect to it. The plot though changed my mind. This mistery drama starred by Lee Se Young and Shin Sung Rok really surprised me. The story is about a girl that is struggling to get by but things change when she loses her phone and when she calls back a man picks it up in the future. By the way when I made my OSTs list it totally slipped my mind just how good Kang Seungyoon's rock ballad Can you hear me? is.

7. Itaewon class. Park Seung Joon plays a man that did time in jail because of an injustice. He comes out with a plan to bring down the people responsible for his father's death. To do that, he assembles a team of misfits and opens up a restaurant in Itaewon. The injustices in korean society and his past will get in the way of his love life and his goal to achieve his dreams. I wasn't a huge fan of the last few episodes of the drama but I did liked it overall.

6. Strangers. Season 2. If you watched the first season you'll definitely like the second. A web of corruption and deceit is drawn from episode one so it really was satisfying when it all came together. If you haven't watched the first season, I'll just say this is well made crime drama and that now would be a good time to binge watch both seasons.

5. Sweet Home. I don't really watch horror movies because I think I'm too logical to be scared with monsters or ghosts so most times I just don't watch any. However I really enjoyed this apocalyptic horror 10 episode drama. Based on a webtooon, it tells the story of the inhabitants of a building after Seoul is run down by monsters.

4. Kingdom Season 2. I actually didn't watch Kingdom last year. I watched the teaser and I was like "Joseon and Zombies? I don't know about that". The pandemic has led me to stay home for so long that I think I watched all of Netflix korean dramas I hadn't checked out which finally led me to watch Kingdom. I liked the first season but it was the second season I enjoyed the most. If you haven't checked it out, I'll just say it's based on the Land of the Gods webtoon and it's the story of the Crown Prince who finds out that, because of greed, his stepmother has revived his father and a plague spreads through Joseon.

3. Hyena. This intense legal drama tells the story of a prideful attorney that lives for his job and meets his ideal woman in a laundromat. However she humiliates him when she shows up as the opposite counselor in a high profile divorce case. This was such a funny drama and the cases were interesting. It had a double digit ratings in Korea.

2. Do you like Brahms? This drama is slow. Like really slow paced. So it's not for everyone but I was just so obsessed with this drama while it was airing. It's a sweet romantic drama about a pianist (Kim Min Jae) who has no passion for what he does and a violinist (Park Eun Bin) who has all the passion but lacks talent. They are both kind and just really bad a communicating their feelings so when they end up getting to know each other they somehow connect. They have another thing in common: they both are in a similar position when it comes to love they're in love with the girlfriend/boyfriend of their best friends.

1. It's okay not to be okay. This was my favorite drama by a long shot. It's just another romantic comedy. However it is so well done. From the cinematography to the plot and even the animation everything was on point for me. Honestly it felt like this really was Kim Soo Hyun's grand comeback to dramas. Seo Yeo Ji's excelled in portraying a strong but lonely woman whose upbringing was different from anyone else's so she grew up to be a rude and unapologetic children story writer. She meets Moon Gang Tae and realizes it's not the first time she has met him. On another hand, Moon Gang Tae puts on a strong face whose sole goal in life is care for his autistic older brother. When he goes back to his hometown he ends up finding out the truth behind his mother's death. I also loved that the story is narrated at times as a fairy tale.

[jebazzled]

So you want to write a want ad.

Surprise! JB coming you today not with unsolicited opinions on apps, but with unsolicited opinions on want ads.

Want ads: love filling them, hate writing them, mixed experiences being part of them. Let's talk about want ads: the responsibilities of writing them, and how to write them in a way that gets people to bite.

WANT ADS: RESPONSIBILITIES

I am a firm believer that when you post a want ad, you have a number of responsibilities to the person who takes your ad:

When you approve a character for your want ad, you owe it to the writer to plot with them.

You owe it to the writer to thread regularly with them.

If you know that you are highly territorial and don’t want characters who are tightly plotted with yours to be tightly plotted with anyone else, you should not be making want ads.

Let's go over what I mean with each of these.

When you approve a character for your want ad, you owe it to the writer to plot with them. When someone writes a character for your want ad, they are often writing a custom character, from scratch, often for a specific plot. This may or may not be a character the writer can reuse elsewhere. They put in a lot of effort for something that you said you wanted, and you owe it to them to come through with the plot you asked for.

This means that you should be proactively plotting with this character, not waiting for the writer to message you asking what you want to do. This means that you should not leave the writer on read. This means that you should be thinking about making this plot enjoyable for both you and the other writer.

You owe it to the writer to thread regularly with them. Again: this person wrote a custom character for you, and is now doing the work of building other plots for this character. You asked for this character, you asked for this plot. Someone may have joined the site for this plot. You owe it to the writer to give them the plot you asked for.

If you do not have the time to regularly contribute to one or more threads at a time with this person, you should not be writing a want ad.

If you know that you are highly territorial and don’t want characters who are tightly plotted with yours to be tightly plotted with anyone else, you should not be making want ads. It is unfair to expect plot exclusivity from other people unless you have made that expectation clear from the get-go. Often, want ad-takers are new members looking for a want ad & plot as a way to get started on a site. If you are not comfortable with the taker of your want ad plotting extensively with anyone else, you should only request want ads from people you are close to and comfortable with.

If certain common plots make you uncomfortable (e.g. : if your ad is for finals and you are uncomfortable with the requested character having romantic history with other characters onsite) you should say so in the ad.

"What if I don't like the way the character turned out?"

The most common reason I hear for people not actively plotting or threading with characters written for their want ads is because they don't like how the character turned out or don't like writing with the member who took the ad.

These are both stupid reasons you can head off earlier than when a character is accepted.

When someone shows interest in taking your want ad, proactively communicate with them. Being in touch with the writer while they initially write the character means you will be able to better communicate what you are looking for and what you are excited about.

If you do not like the way the character turned out or do not want to write with the member taking the ad, you should let staff know before or while the app is under review. Many sites ask for member input on applications submitted for want ads.

If you are unwilling to communicate with another writer or with staff to resolve an issue surrounding a want ad, you should not be writing a want ad.

I understand and agree that confrontation, whether on a small or large scale, can be frightening and anxiety-inducing. I promise you that the "confrontation" of telling staff a certain member makes you uncomfortable and you don't want to write with them, or telling a writer that you don't think their character is quite right for your request, will have much less fallout than you giving every indication that there is no problem, and then completely ignoring this character and writer. (I know this from experience.)

If you are unwilling to potentially take on this confrontation - and 9 times out of 10 it isn't even that bad - you should only request characters from people who you trust to pull off the character in a way that makes you happy.

If there are only a handful of people you would actually be excited to write this character with: you should not be writing a want ad. If you would only thread with this character if they are written by one of your friends, ask one of your friends to write them. Want ads cast a wide net. If you are not comfortable with a wide net, ask your friends to write the character. And if none of your friends will write the character: you need to find a way to write your character without the wanted one.

(This is a great argument in favor of never making a character rely upon another played character to make sense: you never know when a request will go unfilled, when someone will ghost, or when muse will die.)

WANT ADS THAT PEOPLE WILL WANT

Still want to write a want ad? Alright. Let's get to it.

A good want ad is both specific enough to be intriguing and vague enough to give plenty of room for development. A good want ad sets the requested character up for a compelling plot without isolating them from other stories onsite. A good want ad is exciting to write for.

Let's look at some premises for want ads, and how to make them more compelling.

4-5 coworkers for Susie Creamcheese, a type-A 30-something.

BETTER:

Parks & Rec-inspired 4-5 coworkers for Susie Creamcheese, a type-A 30-something.

Why is this better? Giving the group an easily-referenced dynamic helps potential takers get a sense of the personalities at play. They almost certainly won't pull the characters wholesale, just overall types - e.g. a himbo, a dark horse, a straight man (the comedy archetype), a square, a nervous optimist. The vibe is specific but the details are wide open.

Twin brother and sister who held Sally Pumpernickel hostage in their treehouse for three weeks. In the first week Sally tried to escape, but in week two she developed a crush on the twin brother. He tried to get the twin sister to let Sally out of the treehouse, so she took Sally to a different treehouse and told Sally that she had a vision about the brother being an elk shapeshifter.

BETTER:

Twin brother and sister with a dark history - they held Sally Pumpernickel hostage in their treehouse for three weeks two years ago. Sally has feelings for the brother, who may or may not be a shapeshifter.

Why is this better? The original idea was WAY too specific, with every beat of the plot planned out. Asking someone to take on cowriting a story you've already outlined in your head is an unfair proposition, as it allows them very little room to develop their own character. If you need tight control over every single beat of a plot you should probably just write it as original fiction!

Little brother needed for Mary (played by X) - also is boyfriend to Kathy (played by Y), and best friend to Peggy (played by Z). The big complication? He is framed for the attempted murder of Peter (played by Y), who was Mary's boyfriend.

BETTER:

Little brother needed for Mary - this character has been framed for the attempted murder of her boyfriend as well.

Why is this better?

This less complicated request is better for a number of reasons:

Keeps the two most important parts of the request (the sibling role & the attempted murder)

Allows the writer more control over their character's other relationships

Doesn't lock the writer into a closed-group plot situation

What do I mean by a "closed-group plot situation?" In my experience, plots with this tangled sort of quality often lead to a cliquey dynamic. This itself isn't inherently a bad thing - sites are communities, and any community develops close groups - but it does mean that it can be difficult for a new member to feel included with the clique, or to be able to plot outside of the clique if all their character's connections are with the same handful of members. It also means that if the clique has a falling out, members might have a hard time setting their characters up elsewhere on site.

Older sister needed for Sadie Sourdough. Sister raised Sadie in the middle of a desert after their parents went missing. Sadie idolizes her and cares about her a lot but also resents her for getting sick, which meant Sadie had to leave her job abroad.

BETTER: 

Sadie Sourdough's older sister, Sandy - Sandy raised Sadie in the middle of a desert after their parents went missing. When Sadie left to work abroad, Sandy was proud, but also relieved, as this meant she could pursue her dream of underwater basketweaving - but when she caught the Water Sickness, Sadie had to come take care of her, and now their roles are reversed.

Why is this better? The function of the character is the same, but this ad focuses on the requested character, which both gives a writer more to work with and keeps the plot from being entirely self-serving. Remember, rp is a game for two or more - nothing you do can be all about you!

WANT ADS: FILLING THEM

As long as I have you here: let's talk about filling want ads. Quick and dirty tips! 

DON’T only post in the want ad onsite; reach out to the poster individually! Talking to them about what you have in mind and getting a sense for how it compares with what they're looking for will help you determine whether this want ad is for you or if you'd like to go in a different direction, and will save you the effort of writing a whole character just for the plot not to take off.

DO think of other potential plots and points of connection for your character. While you might be writing them for a specific plot, you should have ideas for plots and opportunities outside that plot. You never know when a writing partner will ghost, drop a character, or lose their muse for a plot, and your character should make just as much sense without the person who requested them as they do when you are writing with that person.

DO have fun! This is your character, and you get to decide how to write them. Don't feel like every single thing about your character needs to be determined by the person whose request you're filling. RP writing is improv - you don't get to control everyone else's writing and characters - and if the person whose request you're filling wants to be super controlling of every element of that character, perhaps it is a red flag!

IN CONCLUSION,

Want ads are not something to be taken lightly: you're asking someone to put in a lot of effort for a plot you want! Hopefully this tutorial has given you some food for though in your approach to writing and filling want ads. Happy roleplaying, and best of luck with all your character requests!

[dreaming-of-assclass]

Hi! Can I please have some Karma and Sugino friendship beadcanons? ❤

*cracks knuckles* I’ve been waiting so long for this...😤💚

I literally adore this friendship! Definitely my fave Karma relationship (next to Kayano uwu).

I guess I could sum it up as...Sugino is such a popular, friendly, socially intelligent guy. Karma is “cool,” edgy, and very socially awkward. They’re literally the most iconic type of sitcom duo

Anyways, sorry I was freaking out for a sec there 😅

So...they get off to a rocky start, but I imagine they get super close over the year. At first Nagisa is kinda a middle man, but eventually, they can hang out and vibe without him around.

Sugino overcomes his prejudice and biased view of Karma, and sees the good qualities in him. His respect for Karma grows and he thinks of him as a trustworthy guy.

Karma thinks Sugino is ingenuine at first, but realizes he’s just purely nice. Sugino is very honest and easy to talk to, which is great for someone like Karma, who doesn’t trust people easily at all.

Now...for some headcanons hehe

Sugino is one of the few people that Karma will voluntarily help with studying. He may joke that Sugino owes him a favor or needs to supply him with wasabi or some shit, but he’s honestly just doing it bc Sugino is a close friend.

They’re the most confrontational in Group 4 and may end up verbally disagreeing just bc of their clashing personalities at times. Except it’s usually with little things, like directions, what to do, etc.

(In the future) Everytime Karma is mistakenly given the opportunity to drive, Sugino is such a backseat driver. He’s legitimately scared sometimes that Karma will kill someone...

They fight over the aux, and Karma somehow manages to get it every single time.

Sugino has accidentally hit him in the head with a baseball far too many times...Karma can’t even get pissed bc they are accidental.

Whenever they’re paired in PE, neither of them are taking it seriously. They’re just messing around so much bc it’s honestly so lighthearted. When they do take it seriously, it’s always an interesting match. Karma has faster reflexes, but Sugino beats him in agility. Sugino also has more raw strength, but Karma is a quicker thinker.

Sugino is canonically very talented at a lot of things: sports, art, acting... Karma jokes around that Sugino might finally beat him as the Class Talented Genius, but it’s not out of jealousy at all. It’s his way of complimenting Sugino and showing his support.

Surprisingly...Karma doesn’t ship Sugizaki. Of course, they’re both his friends, but he’s still way closer with Sugino. And he can’t help but see the delusional fantasy Sugino is living in where he puts Kanzaki on a pedestal. It bothers Karma but he isn’t sure what to say. He just hopes Sugino gets over himself eventually, but in the meantime, he’ll quietly support him.

The two of them and Maehara are the ones to come up with “get-rich-quick” schemes...they always invite Isogai but he just sighs and says “Don’t break anything. Don’t kill someone. Or each other.”

They once make a bet with each other that neither of them can indulge in their guilty pleasure for a week, and whoever caves first loses and has to do something embarrassing. Karma can’t eat any junk food or sugar, and Sugino can’t touch a video game. They constantly bait each other during the week while they’re both losing it. Sugino eats snacks in his face, including his precious strawberry milk. Karma rubs it in his face that he could afford the newest version of Sugino’s favorite game. They eventually end it without either of them lasting the week, and tackling each other in a fight. Group 4: “I literally can’t with these dumbasses”

They end up in a ballet class together with Kimura. It was suggested by Korosensei that it improves their balance and skills, but Karma shrugged it off and Sugino said he’ll pass. A couple days later, they change their mind bc dammit, Isogai and Maehara beat them AGAIN. They drag Kimura too bc why not, athletes and chuuni’s stick together. They leave having great ballet skills, and return to assassination. But Isogai and Maehara still be winning 😔

Karma is shook at first in the beginning of their friendship when he notices how many times Sugino nearly jumps into fights/starts shit. He brings it up, and Sugino just sheepishly responds “Oh you know, I only do it when my friends are being messed with. I really should handle things better though.” And Karma just stares at him like ?? “No Sugino don’t change. Now that I hear that, I finally have some respect for you lmfao.” And Sugino is like “oh cool! ...wait that was an insult.”

But that really is a part of Sugino that Karma respects and appreciates a lot. He knows that Sugino has got his back whenever he needs him there, whether it’s assassination, street fights, etc.

Sugino is a chaotic well-meaning idiot, but Karma never wants to use him as a minion like Terasaka. He’d prefer Sugino by his side, like a right hand man, with his support close by.

Karma lives to scare Sugino with his edgy stories, but of course, that goes away the longer they know each other and become friends. Sugino just either accepts it or eggs it on. Karma: “what if I drop this spider onto your head and it infects your mind?” Sugino: “do it bitch.”

Both of them get the same present format for each other on their birthdays. One joke/prank gift and one useful/practical gift.

I HC that Sugino becomes friendly with Gakushuu too at some point, so whenever the rivals are being petty and ready to kill each other, Sugino is just like :D

It’s a pain doing laundry at his apartment since his family has so many clothes and sweaty sports gear to wash, parents are usually busy, their machine doesn’t work sometimes, and he hates leaving things to air-dry... So Karma lets him wash his stuff at his house UwU

Karma always makes sure to watch his baseball games in the future. Not in person all the time, and not the whole game, but at least a couple minutes of the screen. Just to make sure Sugino is doing alright. If he’s having a bad day and isn’t in the lead, Karma texts him like “wtf u better win bitch >3” and Sugino replies “ur right but fuck u”

Karma has a field day whenever girls are flirting with Sugino and he’s so oblivious. Over the years, he has: pretended that he was Sugino’s boyfriend instead and “back off hoes,” basically arranged dates for him just out of fun, and catfished Sugino (as adults)

Sugino’s home isn’t perfect at all, his family is far from perfect. But it’s still way better than the emptiness that Karma is surrounded by. So he invites Karma over a few times for dinner and such, and Karma appreciates it a lot. He also bonds with Sugino’s wild little brother and they create so much chaos.

Sugino can’t trash talk at all, and Karma tries to teach him but it doesn’t work. He’s too wholesome, and Karma just gives up after ten minutes of hearing harmless, stupid shit come out of Sugino’s mouth.

Overall, they’re the Iconic, Talented, Sitcom Duo with so much comedy potential. I love this friendship so much!

[zukosgay]

hi, I'd actually love to hear your wwdits hot takes, if you'd like to talk about them

ohhh booy, alright alright, here we go then.

let’s start with a little less controversial (unpopular?) opinion: i know in the show it’s all big talk about nandor and his fighting/army skills but i actually think the guy doesn’t know shit about one to one hand combat because 1. every time he tries to be badass he fails and 2. i think he was one of those army leaders that would send their guys out to do the carnage and he would reap the awards just by standing somewhere off to the side. he’s not good at it - he’s never been good at it. it’s why he was so reluctant to battle that werewolf in s1. all show and no tell. i’ve seen a few posts describing him as a retired badass and i would just like to say that to me he’s just retired. it’s like, badass? The guy who couldn’t rip a piece of plastic from a wall? That guy?? Nadja could probably beat him in a fight cuz he’d get performance anxiety cuz his entire shtick revolves around being this relentless soldier people write poems about

yeah, that’s p much all i got for non-controversial opinions. now onto the others

first off, i think this show should introduce a black character, and not just as an extra but as a kinda regular like simon the devious etc. it’s seriously lacking in that regard. also, i recently just found out that kayvan novak used to do blackface as “comedy” and iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. am not a fan of that.

i think they didn’t really resolve guillermo’s slayer sl as neatly as they thought they did? i know it was a 2 episode deal but that whole slayer team had so much potential for it to never be talked about. i was really hoping that maybe the dude they left at the disco vamps would come back to bite them in the ass, or sth. i really liked claude (and shanice as well, honestly, tho i was kinda scared they would pair her with guillermo), i liked claude obviously admiring guillermo (gay mayhaps?) and i’m sad it just. ended. like that.

i didn’t like nadja’s development this season either, last season she had a bigger role with the whole gregor sl and her turning another vampire, but this season she was just... there, kinda. all her storylines were about her WITH laszlo, while laszlo got his own little runaway sl. and let’s be honest nadja’s character is a whole lot more interesting than her husband’s (no offense)

this ties into the fact that i didn’t really like laszlo all that much this season either? maybe the whole “u haven’t gone down on me in 200 years” comment soured the mood LMAO, but i think calling nadja and laszlo’s relationship a poly marriage would do it a disservice since nadja was obviously hurt about laszlo “cheating” on her in the witches’ episode, and laszlo saying “haha nandor let’s jerk each other off and tell no one about it” - the latter part being important here. also nadja banning him from their room. like, it would’ve been fine if nadja had gotten any good scenes this season, but she didn’t. it wasn’t eve brought up again.

the witch episode was also a little all over the place, altho it had some funny themes going for it. it felt a little like a “lookie how much sexual/outrageous humor we can put in our show! isn’t this original??” without resolving the sl in any concrete way.

and another thing: I felt a little cheapened at the “homosexual vampiric activity” this season. to me it felt like short moments of representation without any real consequences to the story - and i also didn’t like that they included laszlo jerking off his own damn ghost in that. yes, all their vampires are pansexual, as they’ve said, but how come laszlo seems to be the only one who gets to express that? where’s my gfs for nadja??? (i also missed jenna, rip)

it also doesn’t sit well with me that the main source of representation we got was “hypersexual husband in a relationship with a woman who occasionally has sex with dudes”. like, that isn’t a bad thing, per se, i’d just like a little bit more ~flavor than that to my representation, you know? where’s our shy, romantic homosexual vampiric activity?? (which basically is just me saying: CONFIRM GUILLERMO AS GAY AND GIVE HIM A BOYFRIEND. OR A DATE. A FLING. FOR ONE EPISODE. just.... anything, please.) i get why they’re reluctant to make nandermo canon, but i lit rally don’t care if they keep them just subtext if they give us just one (1) guy that fawns over guillermo, cuz he deserves it ((((i really liked him and claude in those two episodes)))). 

i deserve little a wlw and romantic gay rep next season. as a treat.

also, i don’t mind them dragging guillermo’s secret out till the last minute, but i would’ve preferred for them to kick-start the plot a little more. and with that i mean guillermo being turned into a vampire is inevitable and idk if the writers are just scared of their comedy formula forming? but just THINK of the comedic potential vamp guillermo could have. the blade references. guillermo’s lineage making it so he keeps accidentally almost staking himself. guillermo injuring himself mildly and the vamps freak out cuz they possess -10 brain cells between them and think he’s dying RIGHT NOW, IMMEDIATELY, DO SOMETHING NANDOR. and nandor tries to turn guillermo but it just... doesn’t work during the first few tries cuz guillermo’s van helsing blood is just like “you know what? Nope. Not happening. Not on MY watch, young man” (please, please, let nandor be self-conscious if he’s infertile. let them go to the equivalent of a vampire pregnancy clinic. i’m still in love with that idea.) again, guillermo being turned into a vampire after he’s spent a decade pining over it and has just now come to the realization that he’d much rather be a vampire slayer or some kinda businessman? tasty.

((i also didn’t really like nadja’s wig this season D: or like, i’m assuming it was a wig looking at season 1 with her natural brown hair. i just miss that :’())

oh gosh these points really make it seem like i HATED the season, i didn’t, i thought it was hilarious (the humor was more character-based and less general ‘vamp humor’ like in s1, which i liked), it got me thru quarantine and for that i’m both grateful and scared how i’ll handle the hiatus. i just had some #thots and since like 5 separate people told me they’d be interested to hear about my hot takes...  🤷🏻‍♀️💅🏻

[galactichoneybee92]

Thoughts on Isaac and Representation

I don’t have a point- let me just say that now. This also stands to be perhaps my most controversial post, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take in order to get my thoughts out. This will be long and rambling. You have been warned. 

With the release of Sex Education Season 2, fans have been introduced to a character named Isaac, to mixed response. He is Maeve’s new neighbor, a barrier to her relationship with Otis and potentially a new love interest. 

It’s not unusual to introduce a new love interest into a show to prolong the drama and keep the tension will-they-won’t-they romance alive. In season one we Otis in love with Maeve, thwarted by the fact that Maeve was dating Jackson, and that Otis never really believed that Maeve could like him anyway. Resigned with this fact, Otis attempted to move on with Ola who had appeared conviniently around the time that Maeve had realized her feelings for Otis and ended her own relationship. It was all very ships in the night. 

In season two we get a sort of role reversal: This time it’s Otis in the relationship and Maeve left pining, thinking that he could never love her. It makes sense that this would be the time to introduce a new love interest for Maeve, sort of HER Ola, if you will. The difference here is that Ola is sweet and wonderful and Isaac is sketchy AF. 

I hate him, and I’ve made no secret of hating him, because personally I find him sketchy and manipulative.  There are other fans who like them though and ship the two of them. That’s fine; it’s a perfectly valid opinion, and shipping wars have been around as long as fandom. That’s nothing new. There is another issue though...

Isaac is in a wheelchair. 

While that isn’t necessarily a problem in GENERAL, it is something that effects the way his character is handeled, as well as viewer interpretation. It’s my experience that in media, certain characters are usually gifted a sort of “plot armor.” While that term is most commonly directed towards characters who play too pivotal a role in the story to be written off, I find it often also applies to characters who fit into the role of “representation.”

But wait, you might say, that doesn’t sound right. POC and queer characters get killed off all the time. It’s practically a horror movie trope, and “Kill your gays” didn’t come from nowhere. To which I would reply: Exactly. We have all seen it a million times, have raised it as an issue, and I would like to think that as a society we are attempting to move past it. That gay characters are less likely to die because of the attention brought to the “kill your gays” trope.  

It’s my understanding that these common minority tropes originally stem from their initial introduction into media. At first they didn’t have any representation at all, and then gradually they were allowed to be incorporated in media in small ways that didn’t offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities. A very famous example would be the inclusion of African Americans: At first they weren’t in movies at all. Then they were(sort of?) but they were represented by white actors in blackface. Then when black actors were allowed to play their own roles, those roles were harmful stereotypes; You wouldn’t get a black actor playing a heroic lead, but he would be the brutish savage, or the “mammy” character. They were either relegated to minor side charactes, comic relief, or the villain- roles that didn’t challange the views of society. 

There was a similar experience in regards to homosexuality in films, where once gay characters started appearing they were portrayed as sexless comic relief or villinous. The general idea behind it seemed to be that there could be homosexuality in films, but it had to be shows as wrong and corrupt, or destined to end in tragedy. After all, how could anybody in such a relationship possibly be happy? Ridiculous. 

While media  (and society) are still making strides towards diversity and inclusivity, you can’t say that media isn’t in a better place now than it was even ten or twenty years ago. I was born in the 90′s and the amount of difference I see even in the twenty-seven years I’ve been alive is actually a little astounding. I can’t even imagine the difference for people who are older than I. Even just since I graduated highschool (2010) I’ve seen such a huge difference in regards to representation across the board and while we still have a ways to go we are certainly far from where we started. 

But what does any of this have to do with Isaac? He isn’t a POC, he isn’t in any way queer. No, but he is disabled which is another sort of representation and one that doesn’t get as much publicity. As such it is admittedly one that I don’t know as much about, but If I had to guess it’s probably because theres never (to my knowledge) been a big court case about whether or not disabled people deserve rights. It’s never been a hot button issue in a political debate the way that race politics or gay rights have and so I feel like it hasn’t gotten as much attention. Still disability representation is still a topic that comes up in conversation when discussing media.

So what does that have to do with anything? Why was I talking about plot armor? I had a reason, I promise. I’ve found that due to the problematic history of representation, shows (at least the socially aware ones) have been taking strides to try to avoid falling into the same harmful patterns as their predecessors. Since there was a long history of POC characters being cast as villains, evil characters to be defeated by the white protagonists, there was a stretch of time there where you wouldn’t see a single POC villain at all. It wasn’t quite true equality, but it was an effort to combat the harmful stereotypes that the media had perpetuated for so long.

Eventually we got to a place where it was generally acknowledged that you could have a POC villain as long as they weren’t the ONLY POC in your entire movie. The same goes for people of various gender and sexual identies. You can have a gay antagonist, but it’s impportant to include other gay people who ARENT evil to show that it’s the character that is evil, indepent of his sexuality. This isn’t seen as often however, probably due to the relative novelty of the inclusion of queer characters, which is why my examples for these points are POC characters who have a comparitively longer history of inclusion. That’s not to say that the history has always been positive, just that queer inclusion is a newer development and active disability rep seems even more recent. 

I apologize if I’m phrsasing any of this poorly, but I’m hoping that you’re tracking the main points. Now. I repeat: What does ANY of this have to do with Isaac? 

Isaac is, as of now, the only disabled character in Sex Education. As such, I feel like it’s kind of expected for him to be given “plot armor”, not in regards to being killed off but in his depiction. As the show’s only example of disabled representation, as well as his introduction as a love interest for Maeve, I feel like the expectation is that he would be a protagonist. At the very least he would be a good guy.  And maybe some people think he is? I don’t know, he has his fans, but I’m not one of them. 

This is the part of my post where I stop having a point and just start listing my thoughts.

When I met Isaac I expected to like him and I wonder how much of that stemmed from the fact that he was in a wheelchair and as such I expected that the show wouldn’t possibly portray him in a negative light. Even when he was rude to Maeve in the beginning I was willing to forgive it- I don’t mind my characters being prickly and Lord knows no other character on this show is perfect. And he was handsome, and snarky, which are usually traits that I love and I really REALLY expected to love him. However as the show progressed he just gave me bad vibes. I find him manipulative and untrustworthy.

I’m not going to go into my feelings about Isaac because I’ve already made one very long post duscussing his character, but instead I’d like to discuss his role in the show and how his disability factors into that role.

As I said before, it makes sense that this season would introduce a new love interest for Maeve. It’s not a terribly uncommon formula in shows like these. Considering that Maeve is considered the “bad girl” (even though we all know she’s a cinnamon role that just deserves ALL the love) who has self esteem issues and an inaccurate view of herself, I was honestly surprised that the show gave her such a cute, healthy relationship with Jackson. Were they perfect for each other? I don’t personally think so, but there wasn’t anything inherently problematic in their relationship. Jackson is a legitimately nice guy, I wish him the best and he was a pretty good boyfriend. 

It wouldn’t be unheard of though to see her fall into a more toxic relationship, and while that’s a very strong term that even I am hesitant to use toward Isaac at this point, it does look as if the groundwork might be there for that kind of subplot. It could really go either way at this point- maybe Isaac’s actions are influenced by his own personal insecurity and he would be much nicer once they were in a relationship. Or maybe he would be scared of losing her and things would get worse. It’s not just the fact that he deleted her message in the last episode, but that he’s seemed very manipulative throughout the entire season. 

It seems to me that Isaac fits the stereotype of the abusive boyfriend- He’s handsome and charming, but also very skilled at manipulation. If you watch their relationship, it also falls into a lot of the same patterns as romantic comedies. That’s not meant as a compliment however, a lot of romantic comedy relationships are built on very questionable foundations. The leading men do a variety of unethical things, but are forgiven on behalf of being handsome and funny and those actions are forgiven and even romanticized for the sake of the love story. This also reminds me of Maeve and Isaac. How often does he push himself uninvited into her life? How often does he managed to get out of facing the consequences of his actions?

It’s a fairly common trope tbh, and the only thing that isn’t common is that he’s also physically disabled. Which honestly lead me to doubt whether or not he was being sketchy or not. Like, could I be wrong? I eventually concluded that I don’t think I was, but it leads me to consider the fact of his disability on viewer perception. 

Are viewers more likely to forgive his behavior because his wheelchair paints him in a more sympathetic light? That isn’t to say that everyone who likes him only does so because of the wheelchair - I’m sure some people just legitimately like him- but I wonder how many do? And why? Is it because you feel bad for the character? Or is it because, as our only disabled character, we are programmed to view him as a protagonist? Is his disability part of an effort to be more inclusive, or to subtly subvert our expectations regarding his character? Neither? Both?

If he is indeed going to be an antagonist then that raises further questions in regards to Isaac as disability representation. On the one hand, it’s not like being in a wheelchair automatically makes someone a good person- as with any other demographic of people there are going to be nice guys and assholes.

Is it better that they’re treating him like they would anyone else? Like, he’s just a regular guy who happens to be in a wheelchair, and the guy that he is, is prone to questionable behavior. Is it better that they’re treating him the same as they would any other able bodied character in this role? Or, as their only depiction of a disabled character, should they be portraying him in a more positive light? I personally find him to be very manipulative, and often he uses his disability as a part of his manipulation. Is that just an example of Isaac being opportunistic and using the resources available to him, or is it indicitive of a larger problem with his depiction? 

Have physically disabled people faced the same issues in media as other groups, in that their depictions were historically negative? I’m going to be honest with you here, that’s not a question I know the answer to. I haven’t seen them largely portrayed as villains, but that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t happened. 

I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, and I won’t until I see where season 3 plans on taking this, but these are the thoughts that have been circling my mind since I finished season 2. Do you agree? Disagree? Did any of this even make sense? 

[theorynexus]

68 will be my second post, this morning. I wonder if it will start section 8 of the Meat Epilogue.

Oh darn it. I forgot to make a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy/Meaning of Life reference on Meat 42. At least we’re back to a 43, and things might therefore be luckier. Maybe.    (I am very silly when it comes to superstitions regarding numbers, sometimes, even though I don’t really believe them.)

MY TIMING SENSES WERE TINGLING!!!

Hmm. Well, strategy meetings and investigations are important.  (Also:  I am again reminded of the dreadful likelihood that Terezi went with Dirk, which continues to be a disturbing thought.)

Hmm.  For some reason, I have the impression that he does indeed have a vague idea where he’s going, but he may not actually know where/how to find it, yet. That seems pretty likely.  Thus, Roxy would be partially correct. (On that note: Interesting that Jake didn’t actually come with. I thought for sure he’d have snuck aboard at the last moment, or something, as a stow-away.)

Eh, I’d say it goes a little beyond “prove a point,” but it’s also probably incomprehensible to you, right now.  I guess we’ll all have to be patient before we can more thoroughly sort through his insanity in that regard. As for Jane...   I don’t know. It might be more trouble than it’s worth to contact her.  The fact that Dirk has her as a seemingly important part of his plans suggest that it could essentially be springing a trap on yourself. I wonder how she’ll react to finding out that Dirk’s been mind controlling people and that that probably invalidates the actual results of her election, in the sense that it dramatically undermined the democratic process. (That is a really complicated issue that is somewhat entangled with real life politics, though, so I don’t want to get into a deep and proper discussion of what determines electoral legitimacy on a philosophical or political level here.)

It is a very interesting choice on Alt!Calliope’s call to focus on incestuous questions and Dave being awkward, rather than to follow tat important call.

Dirk is so twisted at this point that I’d almost not put it past him, but at the same time, why, Dave, do you have to assume that the motivations are sexual in nature?   (I mean, honestly, it could be the fact that Dirk was trying to force him to have sex with Karkat that gave him the impression that Dirk was [and he is, but maybe not to that extent] way too carnally-minded and motivated.)   Honestly, Dirk’s head is way too concerned with philosophical matters, and if anything he’s probably going to make a clone of himself to have sex with or something stupid like that, if he REALLY has to engage in some sort of tension-releasing copulation that isn’t masturbatory in the way that having sex with someone you’ve brainwashed and twisted into being your personal object of amusement is.   Therefore, I juuust can’t quite see Dirk having sex with Rose/her new robot body.  (Gosh, I hate that I feel compelled to address this.)

I honestly quite agree with Karkat, and now understand a little bit more about why our focus strayed where it did--- though it would have been nice to receive some sort of narration to indicate that.  And yes, it’s sad that Kanaya’s being put on hold, I guess. A little bit.  (Not really. I understand politicians in places of power can get quite busy, and it may not even be Jane’s decision to have her on hold... though if it is, I can most certainly affirm that that is quite rude.)

I mean... to be fair, Karkat, it’s rooted in biology.  Humans not having a Mother Grub means that the don’t have a natural means to reduce the genetic load that would be caused by related populations interbreeding and therefore dangerously duplicating genes.  Thus, it is not actually arbitrary, which I am sure you would know if you had spent a bit more time acting like the “geneticist” your troll handle suggests you happen to be (yes, I know it means to refer to his ectobiological frog wrangling/recombination; even so, the point stands).

I take it that Karkat’s dejection about the election has kept him a bit preoccupied and out of the loop, lately.

This is horrible (Karkat’s part, I mean).    Roxy’s new new outfit sounds like something I would be very interested in seeing fan art of.   A pink-looking slightly more effeminate Dave look sounds aesthetically striking (and I’m not even a fan of pink). But yeah, good on her for not giving up in frustration for people confusing them, I guess.   ***shrug***

And we return to this awkward and slightly funny subject. Considering it was not resolved last time, I guess that’s reasonable.   (Some day, maybe I’ll write a post analyzing Roxy’s trans-iness and/or how they/he seems to have been affected by those around he/them in his/their path to figuring it all out.  This sort of issue is always a bit difficult to properly tackle without raising some people’s hackles, so to speak, though, so I am not sure if I’ll end up doing it.  Regardless, it’ll have to be quite some time in the future, should I do so, after I’m at least done reading both sides of the epilogues. I’m sure Roxy’s interactions with John will have some important light to shed on the matter.)   It’s sortof nice that Dave and Roxy can joke about this without it becoming too uncomfortable (apparently) for either of them.

...   Is revealing this something they’ve discussed before now?  I mean, doing this in front of friends and family could be sortof... bad for things between them, if Karkat’s still trying to figure out how he feels about it and whether he wants to press on vs throttle back?  I mean, just calling each other boyfriends is not something either of them were comfortable with, and just because Dave is now doesn’t mean Karkat necessarily will be.   I dunno.  I feel conflicted on the matter, despite the fact that it is on the border of being cute.

Yeah, see, this is what I meant:  Awwwwkwaaard.

Yeah, it definitely did serve as a good distraction, at the very least. ~~~ Jane either not knowing or not being willing to tell (we’ll have to wait for a perspective shift to her to be certain) is no surprise.

Gah. FINALLY.  If Roxy weren’t such a Void-y ball of fun, everyone would have known this for some time, by now.  (Also: This is another reason why I am quite certain that Dirk was responsible for at least the way that John died. He didn’t want him to be a threat to him.  [I wonder, though: will Candy John potentially pose that problem, in the future, given the fact that he will likely be able to traverse the two different timelines, should he become aware of them?   Heck, this could be the reason why one had to die in the first place. Or one reason.])

This is what you get when you    A S S   U   M E. Also, Terezi would really be useful due to her Seer powers in particular.

Well. That is a useful compromise. Good on you for finally figuring something out to bridge the gap between your morals and Dirk’s amorality.  (Also, that presents interesting potential conflict in the future, insofar as there might be a point where Calliope has to decide whether to allow them to take Jade with or not.)

Has little Timmy fallen down a well?   O: <

This is funny because it’s like that one time where Jade was sleeping and Dave couldn’t get in touch with her. That time his weird fursona came up. Tightest butt in the jungle, or some stupid nonsense like that.

Dave is smarter than Dirk would give him credit for, calling him the dumbest of the Stralondes, by the way.

Not only do they need one of his ships, but it is quite reasonable to assume that they might be able to entice him to follow with them to where Dirk is going.  This is a potentially dangerous gambit, like bringing Gamzee along anywhere, but I think it could pay off in the end.  I think that, as I suggested earlier, Jake’s probably going to be the one to end up killing Dirk, in spite of all the underestimation that and horrific invective that had been directed his way.   In all honesty, this would really seem to be the direction that Jake’s been being pushed in all along, considering all the failed opportunities to interject him into a place of importance in the story.  

Considering his level of devotion and love for Dirk, now, he very strongly reminds me of that one old clown story that AH wrote... the one where the clown was never able to pull himself away from the service of his abusive, evil master. I bring that up specifically to suggest that Jake WILL succeed, however.  I believe that, counter to the example that I just cited, and contrary to all of the deterministic forces that Homestuck has seen in play, the power of Hope will be what is necessary to do the impossible.  A Page has a long, pain-filled story arc, but when it finally blossoms into the great behemoth that its seed of potential suggested it was from the very beginning, amazing things can happen. A Page of Hope is perhaps one of the most potent Classpect-endowed figures that Paradox Space could conjure up.  I have come now to see that this turn on Dirk’s part was probably planned from the beginning, as was the fact that Dirk’s abandonment of him was likely meant to be the catalyst for the eventual realization of Jake’s full potential. Obviously, this will not likely happen in the near future, much to our short-term misfortune. Dirk, if you ever see this, know your folly:  Jake English is just the force you would need to break free of the shackles of the reality you live in---   if only you believed in the him that believes in you.   Instead, your Rage will consume you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love this dramatic comedy.

Honestly... this is great. From a writing stand-point, this is excellent. The decision to have Dirk drag Terezi along brings more significant stakes to things and drama for the future, especially with the fact that we DO know that he can be brought back to life, now, despite Dirk’s statement to the contrary. Despite all of my pathos earlier, the way this story (the story of Homestuck) is ending is actually getting me excited and washing away the scars that came from the darkest hour of the path previous.     I really like the mechanic of Dirk having reality warping powers and Alt!Calliope being able to counter them, but only in close proximity. With the speed of his ship being a factor, especially, this sets up for some really interesting potential action in the further development of the story, as well.                    That Hussie was able to so masterfully navigate these emotional waters and string me along to this point was brilliant too.    In sum:  WOW, GUYS, I’M PUMPED!!! ... But... while this would actually serve as an excellent, fully complete and enticing epilogue in and of itself, the fact remains... there is yet more. Not only in the Postscript, but in Candy.      This throws many spanners into the works, and I honestly don’t know how to feel about all that!     If this weren’t Andrew Hussie we were talking about, I would be incredibly afraid that what is to come would throw everything off and make the eventual follow-up in Homestuck^2 (which I know he’s at least directing, though he’s not quite as involved in the story as he was in Homestuck, apparently?!) potentially quite messy and of a much lesser quality than I might expect. Given this IS Andrew Hussie we are talking about, however, I actually am quite confident that eventually, it will work out splendidly, and raise his literary accomplishments to even greater heights. Though... I am filled with a bit of trepidation. That “eventually” will be so far in the future. ***laughs awkwardly*** ... Buuuuutttt there’s still more left, even on this page, so I had better get to that. ...

It is very interesting that she’s been enveloped in that blanket of space so thickly and constantly that she’s come to find it comforting. That said:  How is it possible for her to withdraw and still let narration continue, supposedly without source or accountability, as she states?   Is this meant to suggest that the passive forces of Paradox Space will naturally fill in the gap if there is no one manning the ship, so to speak?   This feels a bit unlikely, considering the lack of content for years of the characters’ lives, and Dirk’s suggestion that “God had abandoned them,” or however the heck he put it. This is all veerrry curious, indeed.  (I do like her commentary on narration. A lot.) ~~~ Woooooo!!!~    It’s really nice to finish this at--   Dangit, time, why do you have to keep ticking into the future?!       Well, even though it’s not 3:14, anymore, it’s still very nice to finish the Meat Epilogue on 02/02/2020.   :’)

[donnerpartyofone]

while i’m apparently still in confession mode for some dark reason: 

after i told that awful story yesterday about the degrading one night stand that an older male friend spent a year bullying me into, i started thinking about all the cliches that are sold to us about the sexuality of precocious young women: what it means for us to navigate the devious emotional traps set out by the jealous and covetous world around us. what i mean is, there’s this whole gothic narrative that never stops circulating, involving beautiful, talented, intelligent, sensitive young women who are advanced enough to start exploring their own desires independently, but not experienced enough to identify the (typically) older male predators who hunt them. these men take advantage of their uninformed curiosity, leveraging their prey’s desire to grow up faster in order to control, possess, and abuse them. while this narrative is inherently criminal, society never seems willing to fully denounce it, preferring to preserve its erotic potency for a wide and slavering audience. the iconography of this narrative is mostly derived from Lolita–

[which btw our cultural failure to see that book as anything other than a “love story” is really disturbing and speaks volumes about our willingness to project our grossest ideas wherever we want, even when other interpretations (like “black comedy”) are abundantly available]

–a mature but fragile adolescent with that /special something/ innocently hypnotizes a genteel older man whose sophistication belies his uncontrollable animal desire for her, which is less His Problem than it is a natural response to her beauty and charm; a  forbidden love affair ensues. when i was young, i swallowed this concept hook line and sinker, hoping it would happen to me some day! i hated dumb little boys my own age, and i felt that if some Humbert Humbert type were to flatter me with his highly curated attention, then i would know that i had truly arrived.

“sadly”, i made it through high school and college without ever knowing that validating thrill. i wasted the latter half of my 20s on an abusive relationship with a guy two years younger than me, who often argued that he should be allowed to wreck my life however he wanted because he was “less mature” than i was and deserved more leeway. as i turned 30, i met the extraordinary person i would marry. i felt a profound sense of relief, entering my 30s; i had finished with so many of my old delusions, and the pulverizing pressure to have The Time of Your Life throughout one’s 20s had finally lifted. i looked back on my youth, thinking of it as a period of dreary, pointless misery in which “nothing really happened”, good or bad. but recently, when i started to think about it with greater focus, i realized that some shit really DID happened to me. i had just completely ignored it, because i thought of it as the fruits of my own bad taste. 

throughout junior high, i had a bizarre rapport with a guy in his early 20s–”nothing happened”, as they say, but this guy was sort of a freak and a loner, and i’m probably lucky that there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for something TO happen. then my supposed best friend, jealous of even this non-event in my sad little existence, forced a relationship with a 30 year old man out of nowhere, and competitively abused my ears with a lot of gnarly details about their horrible sex life. then in high school, my first two boyfriends were both pretentious manipulative dickheads in their 20s who really had no business bothering someone who wasn’t old enough to vote. some of my friends suffered from the same problem, though we all just felt like we were becoming independent young women or something. then there’s some other stuff with an older classmate who was abundantly aware of how emotionally unstable i was, and took appalling advantage of that for a long time, and i probably won’t ever be brave enough to talk about it. then in college i briefly “dated” a guy around 50 with whom luckily nothing bad happened before i got rid of him, but like, it really wasn’t cool, looking back–he made me feel incredibly obligated, and as he only informed me mid-stream, he was married with children. then i spent the rest of college getting dragged through the mud by a guy in his 30s who used his professional clout and well-honed manipulative abilities to “take my virginity” (a phrase and concept i hate, but which applies here), which he was very excited about; it would have been best if he had just abandoned me after that, as so many assholes do, because he then cultivated a long tawdry and extremely damaging soap opera between us, the only point of which was to make trouble for his actual girlfriend, who was ALSO much younger than him. and the end of college and slightly after, i developed another intense connection with a man a few decades older, who would never quite initiate a relationship, but who was insidiously manipulative and made me feel terrible when i eventually got a real (age-appropriate) boyfriend, as if i owed him something; i later found out he did the same thing to another girl that i know, who is substantially younger. the terrible one night stand, previously discussed, was just a gross little footnote to this disgusting history…

…but the thing is, i never, at any time, felt like i had taken part in the overheated archetypal drama that society has built up around may-december romances. i didn’t even see myself as a victim of the bad behavior of adults, of people who should and did know better; i just felt separate from the whole thing, even though i had fantasized about it so much as a kid. the thing is, at the same time that the Lolita narrative is inappropriately romanticized, it does provide an opportunity to see the girl as a potential victim, a Little Red Riding Hood who enters a perilous erotic negotiation with a Big Bad Wolf. because i didn’t see myself as the heroine of my own iteration of this overly familiar story, i didn’t recognize the degree to which i’d been exploited by people who knew to use my youth and inexperience against me. i just blamed myself. and the reason for all this is really sad: i simply didn’t feel attractive. in my mind, the vulnerable nymphet was always delicate, doe-like, elegant; clothes hung on her alluring frame in a way that created a dizzying paradox between her youth and her emerging maturity; she could dance, play music, or write touching poetry; she was preternaturally irresistible even to “good men”. she had to be liv tyler in STEALING BEAUTY (*barf*) or some shit; only somebody that compelling could star as the doomed princess in society’s well-loved fairy tale about statutory rape. personally, i perceived myself as ugly, awkward, socially burdensome, and most importantly, the kind of girl who should count herself extremely lucky to be the center of anybody’s attention, even temporarily. because i didn’t see myself as a damsel in distress who deserved protection and sympathy, i failed to spot my own victimization. i thought of my history of increasingly negative and abusive encounters with older men as a matter of bad luck, bad judgment on my own part, and ultimately, “the best i could do” if i wanted any kind of affection. so i guess the irony is that if i had identified myself as a desirable dolores hayes type, then yes, i would have been in serious danger of fetishizing my own mistreatment–but on the other hand, i would have had a more realistic framework for understanding the sinister thing that was happening to me. unfortunately, the other side of the misogyny coin–not the side that turns you into a sex object, but the side that excludes you from feeling sexually worthy at all–prevented me from noticing that that awful Little Red Riding Hood cliche had already happened to me several times over.

tl;dr - when misogyny convinces you that you have nothing to steal, then it’s hard to tell when misogynists are trying to rob you.

it’s funny to start recognizing this only now that i’m approaching 40. i see a lot of young women on tumblr heroically fighting to strike a balance between enjoying their kinks and avoiding the corrupt elements in their communities–all the while trying to stay aware of how their personal history and mental health plays into this drama. some of them are way farther along in that philosophical journey than i was at their age, and i really admire the work they’re doing. i’m writing this more for the ones who don’t even know that they’re already a part of this struggle, because they haven’t learned to see themselves as desirable enough to be included in it. that is to say, i wrote this for myself; but i have a sneaking suspicion that someone else out there needs to hear it, too.

This post brought to you in part by the very beginning of CABIN IN THE WOODS, which, while not a deep film in any way, features a salient moment in which College Girl #1 tries to tell College Girl #2 that the professor who took advantage of her is a scumbag, and College Girl #2 defends him, humbly and maturely replying: “I knew what I was getting into.” The blood freezes in my veins when I think of how many times I said something like this about someone who did not deserve my defense. If you got dicked over, literally and/or figuratively, by someone older, sober-er, and/or more experienced than you, then this is your gentle reminder that you really cannot be accused of knowing what you’re getting into.

[taendrils]

the heartbeat challenge | 1

― ❝things never work in your favour when you run out of fucks to give, and right when you do heaven seems to throw the seed of evil right into your arms, or more precisely on the corridor to your college dorm. you swore an oath to hate the XY population, blood and pinkies and everything- but namjoon, the shy brunet helping you with your sister’s wedding has always been a man of science- and he seems to love testing just how much he can make you tick.❞

• pairing: namjoon/female reader  • genre: fluff, comedy, a college rom-com, semi-wedding planner a.u • warnings: slow burn, swearing, mentions of sexism and unhealthy dynamics in literature • wordcount: 16k words

a/n: this fic contains satire interpretation of a ‘man-hating’ oc. oh and a very cute namjoon. also this is my longest fic/series thing up to date. cheers and let’s enjoy.

“And a toast to the young couple!”

The people sprawled across the joined tables cheered, the sound of champagne glasses clinking and the sound of friends laughing in delight pleasant to your ears. Few things in life could beat the sensation of hearing nothing but sounds of happiness around, and you took it all in–letting your head fall back and closing your eyes, barely keeping yourself from raising your arms in the air. Between the winter midterms and the inter-semestrial break filled with nothing but volunteer work where you’d encounter children screaming on schedule and coming home to find your love interest–a.k.a the latest lesson chapters all spread out on the kitchen table–at last, you could say that you felt relaxed. One moment ready for the history books where this sort of happiness surrounded you, and one you deserved for sure.

Maybe you deserved it because the earrings you had been wearing for the past five hours insisted on pulling your entire earlobe off or at least fight for their custody, and some part of your knee still stung as a reminder to never rush with blades on your legs again. Especially at eight in the morning when a hyper Yuna who resembled the children you interacted with more than enough swayed into your room like a fairy of adult representatives–clipboard in hand and face lacking any concern. She resembled her corporate supervisors down to the hem of her tailored coat, ready to check every item that met the standards from her list and glare at anything else that didn’t. For her, it sounded like the perfect plan.

For you? Not so much.

She started out with your room, sending daggers to the dust on your nightstand before shifting her eyes to you. Or what was supposed to be you, hidden between three pairs of pants and a nest of messy hair, suitcase left open in the carpet’s middle and the rest of the clothes thrown out at random. A fallen soldier with hopes as high as the sky, but nowhere near ready to get struck with by the chains of femininity and requirement to socialize.

You know, like she didn’t tell you about her engagement party a whopping two days ago, as you were in combat to recover the countless days of sleep that you lost this semester in like, eight hours.

At first, living a quarter of your life with sleep deprivation, you thought you were imagining things, or you made unintentional contact with the spirit world in your attempts at meditation and regaining the self you lost as the years of education progressed. But no, here she was, diamond sparkling in artificial light like a laser pointed towards a jail sentence, focused on you. You didn’t dare to open your eyes, fear tap dancing as it travelled in slow motions across your spine at the chance that said light could hit you right in the pupil.

Spineless as you were, you allowed her to drag you along to whatever beauty rituals were going on in the household, passing a tray of cookies that you could blame on Minho’s choices for sure. Maybe the date too, with his impatience and competitive streak coming together to create the best party in the shortest time. To be honest, you had no idea about any of their whereabouts.  And hours later, between passive-aggressive calls, Hyoyeon arguing with staff as she watched last night’s MMA match, and a bright-eyed Minho swatching tissues to figure out the best colour coordination, you found yourself at a much bigger location, with everything that you dreaded next to you.

Namely, men.

Sure, you enjoyed making people happy and an enjoying an easygoing atmosphere; you were a firm believer (or someone who strived to be) in a life without worries, and thus every moment spent smiling brought you a hair closer to your goal. But men were... well. You’d leave that for them to explain.

Now, confronting the statement, people might think that you suffered from an attention-starving syndrome. Did you? Perhaps. The possibility was out there, far away, like your toleration for the male sex, but a self-grasp told you that your hate did not arise out of being ignored. Not that you were Miss Popularity ever or had friends more than you could count on your toes all high school. One could say, you did well enough to float in the middle of the spectrum–you were not demonized for not appealing to them, but neither did you get a confession or even guys from your parallel classes sliding into your Facebook messages using the classic ‘sup’. Oh, the tragedy of missing so much in life.

In fact, if you take time to think about it, that’s been your signature in most of your endeavours. Existing in the middle of any crowd. From a family standpoint, you weren’t able to shine like your sisters–Yuna being a signed model, recognised for her kindness and charming personality and Hyoyeon resembling the movie-version of a female badass–a no-nonsense boxing trainer. Each of them challenged the norms in their own way, subverting femininity or straight up refusing to conform to it and then... there was you.

That Feminist. Loud and a little annoying. Struggling with both.

The fact that they had settled and formed their own lives and routines while you skated on dry land through college didn’t help either. When you hung out with them, the reminder made you cower a little, fold yourself back into the shell you developed in your younger years from the lack of stability you experienced. You heard a lot about their boyfriends too– fiance and boyfriend, and from what you collected Minho seemed nice enough for a model, not to mention Hyoyeon’s doctor boyfriend, and you learnt to put up with them. Somehow.

However, you weren’t familiar with the faces to your right at the linear table, making it impossible to prevent having your mouth glued shut the entire time the photographer told each of you to smile and blinding you with the lights. Because here was the thing.

You had a blank face. A resting bitch face, like some said, or a woman not smiling face, as you liked to call it. You wanted to express your excitement, you really did, but the thought that your sister would soon be trapped close to forever in a relationship that could only be broken off if she gave her car, or worse–her TV screen held onto the corners of your mouth just like those damn earrings. Hence why, instead of expressing unfiltered joy over Yuna’s engagement, this time official, ring and fancy place rented, you looked like the personification of a rocking chair. Giving occasional nods as if you absorbed all information regarding next week’s weather.

Shame on them for dolling you up like this, hair parted, pretty braids tight on your scalp and orange dress making you look like a fairy. A fairy protecting the pumpkins and other agricultural crops, puffy sleeves moving like waves with your every movement and pleated fabric brushing over smooth thighs. Thighs you gave your blood, sweat and tears to.

Did you deserve to sit next to a man, all beautiful like this? What wrong have you done?

Since you were a child, you gained knowledge about the prices one had to pay to achieve happiness, and to restore the balance, with the peaceful music in the background and smiles in harmony to match it to your left, red wine you had been eyeing all evening on the other side, came the existence of the man. A tall gentleman with hair gel that spread to his brain, and whose arms were too big to stay by his sides, hence why he was taking up all the space on the table and separating you from your one true love. What was left to do, you pouted, interact with him and get into a potential discussion of how you can correct flabby arms, or risk your joints by stretching all across the table so you’d snatch the other one?

Not in the mood for a gym discussion in a trying time, you got up and used the remaining flexibility skills you had to bend across three welcoming faces. The liquid was so close now, its proximity tempting you and charming you into a trance. You wanted to experience this intimate moment, and to assure no one would pay attention to it– having you adverting your eyes to the table parallel to yours... making contact with your greatest enemies.

Your sister, with Minho and his mother who lit up at the sight of you. “Here she is, our youngest!”

She was a nice woman, short perm smoothing over the ends of her cheekbones. A figure that stood up to her son’s forearm, gentle and caring. As a general rule, you loved being in her presence, but you were already sensing the wrinkles forming as your eyes almost screwed shut with how hard you tried to raise the corners of your mouth. Not like you minded one bit, only one part of you wishing to avoid witnessing the impending disaster of interacting with her at social events.

Getting back into a normal position, you let your hand drop off the bottle, fingers longing for the coldness and bowed right as she averted her gaze to the chair you had been sitting on, then to the unknown guest. “And this must be your date?”

Your eyes widened, reaching to touch her only to have your hands freeze midway. “Oh, no, no way–I don’t have a date.”

“How come? Look at you, you’ve filled out so well,” she smiled as she squeezed the extra weight on your hips. To admit, the praise added a few points to your self-esteem meter, but it was no match to the aggravation you experienced in her presence because she had to ask about the other set of chromosomes at each meeting. It was part of the old lady gossip: asking about graduation, when you will get a job, oh and also if you’re not married by twenty-two when are you picking up a man so they can open another question folder. The one branded with a guaranteed approval stamp, none other than ‘when will you have grandkids’.

Insistent question marks to follow it soon after despite you not being related.

“I came to celebrate these two. I’m not looking for one right now,” you said, hoping your tone sounded polite in the least bit. Being accustomed to old ladies, who made up in curiosity for all they lost in height was a full-time job you never stopped learning from.

“Are you staying celibate? Waiting to save yourself for ‘the one’?” she inquired further. Here we go.

“Yeah, course she is.” Minho puffed, letting out a laugh. “For the One Lord Jesus Christ, you mean.”

“Amen. I will find my way, I’m sure,” you took a step back, attempting to return to your chair.“This family needed a cat lady anyway. You guys will be beautiful at 35 and all that, and I’ll be having my wrinkles illuminated by the laptop screen.”

“Coding?” Yuna supplied.

You took it as one of the instances to use your fake smile.“That’s plan A. If it fails, I’ll resort to the worse: write fanfiction in various locations.” Plan B was always ‘Embarrass yourself to the point they don’t talk to you out of their own will’. And get money.

“Oh, come on–”

“I could be in your basement and you won’t know it because Arnold Augustine the Third keeps wailing from the milk temperature.” you leaned your head forward, mimicking the way you sat while you typed on the keyboard, “Clickety clickety clickety clack, clickety clickety clack clack.”

“There is no way I would name our kid that.”

You pursed your lips. “Well, tell your fiance here who made me create an Instagram page to ‘keep the name’.”

His mother stood there with a tight-lipped mouth, the kind of expression others had when you weren’t close enough for them to get the joke, giving back the same forced politeness you gave a minute ago.“I can always introduce you to somebody, child.”

Minho tapped the beautiful girl four seats from you, whispering to her as she passed him the wine, and sometimes you envied him and Yuna for being so in-sync because the next second she was holding out a glass to you as he poured away the bottle’s contents. The drink matched the shade of her velvet floor-length gown, you noted, and if you thought you resembled a fairy of autumn, she was the season’s goddess.

“She’s enjoying herself enough, trust me,” her fiancé added as she passed you the glass. “I think we should check on uncle as well, don’t you love?”

Releasing a breath you’ve been holding for the entire meeting, you sat down, finally pouring the entire glass in your throat in one go, pose relaxing soon after. However, something bothered you–the feeling from this morning still lingered on your legs, little droplets of blood making your knee itch until you found a chair corner to relieve the sensation. Your knee moved farther, knocking into something solid. More accurate description provided, knocked into a muscled thigh fighting to rip out of a blue suit.

“Don’t have a date, huh?” the man grinned as he rubbed his leg against yours. Interpreting your gesture as romantic, movie flirting? Oh God. “Youngho, I’m a bodybuilder.”

A tab opened in your head to search for the profession: male thot job #1.

“Oh no, no no. No, thank you. I am here for the wine,” you explained, “I have a boyfriend.”

Yes, the wine. And the side piece was mango chicken.

“A lady shouldn’t drink so much. It’s not good for you,” he gave you a gentle smile, and you laced yours with the gentlest of ironies as you replied.

“A gentleman shouldn’t give unsolicited advice to strangers.”

He turned back to his plate, and you added another face to the history of guys who disappointed you on the first meeting, struggling to make space on your brain’s list.

Starting with your first crush, a basketball player who acted so nice with you and even pretended to know half the math you did to get close to you and work together. The joy was he seemed quicker to make fun of you for your moustache to his friends whenever they questioned your closeness. Second one, same field but a smaller ball to throw around, as sweet as they come, got bored with your dynamic when he met another girl who liked trap and Rammstein. The third one didn’t even know you existed–not that you were doing much to attract his attention either as you spent half your time staring at his hands and vintage shoes.

Then you considered the what ifs. If you wracked your brain enough, you could still remember the second date you went to at seventeen, eyes holding onto the remaining flicker of hope. Immersed into the memory, you recalled the way your pompadour partner, beer in hand, gave a detailed explanation not of your beauty, but of how much he hated communism and ‘feminazis’. After that, you lost count of the large-shouldered figures passing your life and focused your curiosity on said feminazis. Cool girls that, like you, realized long ago how the key to feminism didn’t have to do with hating men but happened to support the cause.

Attention syndromes aside, you didn’t lack ‘experience’ either. Didn’t even know what people considered experience. You kissed a lot of boys in truth or dares when you were fourteen (and man did you think you were doing something). Also, you were good at faking interest for dares when all you wanted to do was kiss them. Who would have thought you’d end up with a profound dread for the male sex? A good portion of the population who interacted with guys over sixteen, it clicked to you. After your discovery, you wished you could form a society made up of girls that were unfortunate enough to be attracted to those they hated. Yes, we exist, you wanted to say.

A capital flaw that turned you off beyond belief (not that they ever turned you on in the fun way beyond your bedroom and in the outside world) was their lack of dependability, besides opening their mouth. Your high school best friend, Yoongi, you remembered him as one of the most kind-hearted people that you knew. You could have almost said him alone showing this much humanity had been enough to clean the stains of his gender’s reputation, and yet. There’d always been that one little detail that proved to you that Yoongi was indeed a man.

Case in point: the one time in senior year in which you needed a photocopy for your album that required you to search half a town for. It went well, except for the fact that between seven bus stations you still weren’t sure whether they had the machine for it. And Yoongi being a few steps away from the store couldn’t bother to ask about it on the premise of ‘being sick’. Also, who could forget your high school sweetheart, Jungkook, your athlete deskmate who called a lovesick you for the first time during a presentation to ask you whether you’d join his clan in Dragon City.

Spoiler: they didn’t do photocopies there. But at least you contributed to the pay of bus drivers as you succumbed to breeding dragons ready for war.

The realisation came in at a much later time. Although the crushes came and fleeted and you had a greater chance than others at being smitten from the first three conversations with anyone, there was a territory you hadn’t adventured into. No longer did you bother to explain the heavier reasons, the tear-jerkers and mood ruiners. At the time you’d choose to go with the simple alternative.

You had never cared for a man, and you never planned to.

The standards raised. You became mature; you hated men. And nothing could have convinced you otherwise.

At least the free booze on table five distracted you from it.

So, about The Feminist.

The roots of this reputations had been foreign to you since you didn’t talk to many people outside of your dorm or classes. Even while volunteering, you kept it with the three friends you went there with, not making an effort to be social more than that. On the occasion, you’d act out to pull the laughs out of your friends and didn’t bother to scan the people watching, therefore it became a mystery to you how your first impression switched between a clown and the aluminium tinfoil hat.

You had your fair shares of conversations with frat boys in your freshman year when you were a small bundle of hate. Even then, as you expressed your opinions they twisted your words, mocked you as you kept to politeness while conversing. ‘I thought you didn’t like men’, they’d say with a smug face, carrying on with expressions which made you sneer. From the other side, your tinfoil sons and daughters, you heard about your supposed plans to go to Law School only to get into the government and implement liberalism and laws to limit their rights.

Well, they had the spirit but messed it up at the end. Not wrong but not true either. Sounded like another back-up plan in case it went wrong with computers. You ended up being a famous case in the ethics classes you took before you decided on coding, all gritted teeth and ready to eat guys who substituted a personality with monotonous voices and wearing glasses. Despite the events which to this day made you more reluctant to express yourself, you still frequented some classes related to the humanities field: you remained in gender studies and literature.

One of which you were currently sitting in, on the edge for the last hour due to today’s theme of discussing novels of experience. Ten minutes left and your wings would be free, with no hint of annoyance or anger for the entire day. An achievement uncommon for a lesson requiring creativity and freedom of belief, which you loved expressing but avoided hearing.

Creativity had its perks and downsides. One of them was that everyone was allowed to manifest it in one way or another, which left space for questionable fiction not only to be created but to be discussed and theorized over in academic circles. Such example you didn’t want to experience again had been the latest reading assignment, one of the choices for today’s topic. Most of your classmates who chose to present had ventured into other choices, letting you live and catering to your neurons. Until you heard the incantation.

“Based on a definitory experience in 1929, the book which puts to light the tragic heroine bearing the same name explores the idea of retrospection, of relieving a love whose absence leaves the individual…”

Leaves them blessed that they didn’t read such bullshit. You rolled your eyes, remembering the read you got through during winter break, the slowest 120 pages of your life. A tint of sadness seeped through the anger building in your loins, threatening to overflow. The rest of the emotions you learned in high school psychology came to you in their order. Starting with the disgust you felt at the author’s description of the young girl which were both infantilizing and barbaric, marking her bright presence and sense of spirituality as below him. The little fucking intellectual who sat and beat his dick to how he was the sole individual on Earth capable of self-reflection.

In the beginning, the first state to follow had been surprise. Surprise that no one thought to leave that man in a ditch after a drunk night and use his manuscript as toilet paper. With your eyes closing the night you read, in its steps happiness followed, now that it was over and you could go sleep and never check it again.

Lastly, fear. You understood and if you had to name a positive about the story would be the accurate portrayal of subjectivity, of how one would misinterpret based on their thought process and obsession with another person. Fiction had the qualms of exploring said concepts but to you, the way people related and discussed them based on reality’s moral system mattered most. You feared that people would take this toxic relationship and call it a love story and you feared the backlash following your disagreement.

“The subjective perspective of the events makes the impossible love even more painful for the protagonist as he is forced to separate from the young girl, ‘woman and child’, who ends up succumbing to his infatuation and wishes to give herself completely to him with the symbols of spirituality around them bearing as witnesses. A powerful interior conflict can be observed…”

The impossible love. Romeo and Juliet were shaking in their boots at the love of an unempathetic protagonist and a girl too young to know what love meant. You’d think the asshole had an interior conflict since he was stepping over any moral compass known to man.

“…, this way, an authentic and vulnerable experience is captured by the author. It is a story of irremediability, of a consuming love which young people aspire to experience and live for.”

Breathe through your nose, lips pursed to even out your inhales. Once again, the mere mention affected you more than it should’ve, and your mouth won the race over your self-control.

“I disagree.” You didn’t wait for the professor to call your name. Not anymore.“It makes no sense to brand the book as a love story or something a teenager should strive for because of the male character’s actions and his view of her throughout the story. A novel of experience? Certainly. The subjectivity and the protagonists’ reflective notes throughout the narrations guarantee it.”

“Well–” your classmate cut in, but you gave no sign of stopping.

“But she is described as ugly and barbaric, below him despite her high education and extensive poetry knowledge and changed from virgin to whore as she gives into him. These thoughts do not disappear even after he ‘falls in love’ and starts to feel whole next to her because of his supposed superiority. This is not a tragedy, separating them was mandatory to protect her.”

You let your head drop, pursing your lips as you waited for the counter argument. At the silence,  the professor took to watching you, pondering over the answer.“I think you should reflect on the mentality of the 30s. During that time, it could’ve been considered as such.”

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t stop the slight tremor of your tone and the voice that raised another octave. “Are we still living in the 30s? Why are we perpetuating the same mentality, why are we letting it slip with this excuse?”

The professor’s gaze alternated between you and the clock pointing towards the end of the class, “We should leave this discussion for the next time.”

The whispers increased. From behind you, a girl spoke. “Here she goes again with this extreme stuff. I swear, I’m a feminist too but she is exaggerating.”

You were familiar with the type. The one to laugh at your jokes and watch with undivided attention whenever you wanted to lighten up the mood by making a fool of yourself. Several times you heard them laugh at jokes made at the expense of women, several times you were shut down when you stood against it, the moment you call it out you get called a sensitive extremist.

And it wasn’t always bad since men’s voices were an echo chamber to you or radio noise at best, yet the women. The pressure put on women like you by other women suffocated you, settling over your windpipe no matter what you replied. Those were the most frequent case when it came to the rising of your doubts. Chest heavy, you chose not to retaliate, storming out as soon as you collected your things, hoping that time alone would help you solve the issue within yourself.

“Hey, wait–” you snapped your head to the sound, wild eyes contrasting the touch of calamity in his. “I–”

The guy got out of class, hurrying after you. Even a buffoon would see the correlation.“Has the professor said anything?”

He paused in his tracks, taken off guard by the question. “No, that's not it. I wanted to tell you–”

Emotions weren’t your best feature, and you had a few arguments with them here and there. They would threaten you, you’d fight back, they’d reach for cat videos or a thing you did ten years ago and you’d shut up. And isolate.

Which was what you were planning to do right now, if not for Beanie Boy over there testing–wait. You’re sure you’ve seen this guy outside of literature.

“You're in my gender studies class, aren't you?” you pushed, remembering the denim jacket and beanie from a row in front of you, a classic colour combination. Besides that, who could forget the impression he left from the first day, starting off his speech with: I'm tired of his story, It's time I listen to hers. Girls cooing, an unusual image present in your lectures and a few giggling over the shy gestures following. That you remembered.

The tangled letters of his name stayed foreign to you, more concerned with paying attention and learning, and so did his motif to look for you. From what you gathered, he was a unique individual, popular for his Instagram outfit shots and scenery captures. An apparent style whose amalgam of characteristics you didn't recall seeing in recent lectures.

You tilted your head, hand falling to your hip. “Do you want the notes, is that it?”

His mouth gaped, dimples growing to see the light. “Oh, thank you for offering–”

“Then it’s settled. Come to the dorms on Floor One by Thursday, I’ll be there then,” you said with the solemnity and suspicion of a drug dealer, quick to turn around and walk away. More than ever at this hour needed the space to calm your nerves and collect yourself enough so you could pay attention to the next classes.

Still, were you so cheap now that you’d hand out your notes to anyone now to get rid of them? Information is the way to life, and yet you traded it just to get away from it.

Classic.

Five days later fate found you in yet another tricky situation. For as long as you’d live in the campus dorms, you were to never experience peace or any tranquillity. Be it you were cursed or stamped with bad luck at birth, the fact had been internalized long ago, along with your animosity for the object you have lost once again. There was no other way. You pressed the door’s handle, tempted to give up and bang your head against it so you had a way out of this situation.

At least you weren’t completely hopeless.

Once pulled out of said thoughts, you felt around for the phone in your jeans, battling with the sleeves of your fur coat to retrieve it so you could dial Yujin, “Hey, any chance you’re around? I lost the key again and I can’t face Mrs. Choi for the third time this month. Can you please go instead of me?”

Past desires loomed over you once again as you registered your roommate’s words: she didn’t think you’d be home this early, so she locked the door till she returned from the library. Your schedule followed: meet up with your girlfriends and revise the material for next week’s finals as you ranted on the side, but you didn’t have access to it. Duh.

A possibility that not everything is out to get you manifested as you heard steps on the hallway, and you took it as your saving grace… until you checked who it was. A perfect candidate for directing your frustrations to. The Man of the Hour. The most recent addition to your database, who said nothing about the missing material. You were friends on Facebook, for fuck’s sake, did he not care enough to ask for your room number? Did he have other resources to access your personal information, you questioned, frantic in your thoughts which made you turn around, determined to find the answers.

You marched up to him, cutting off his chances at avoidance. “You!”

He pointed to himself, mouth agape.

“You made me wait for so long, and you didn’t show up,” you chastised, wincing a little at how your neck cracked when you stared up at him. “I even organised my papers for you.”  

A hand came up to scratch at his own.“Uhh, I appreciate it… but I-I’m not here for that.”

“So, guess it’s for another time? How long will this take?”

Your patience was running thin more with each meeting, though you remained careful in front of the man. Given your current moods and schedule, you didn’t have the chance to rage about education- and a part of you didn’t want to either. The more you saw him, the more you took your time to observe him, along with his gestures, both of which made you reconsider your opinion of him. Such as no matter how tall and imposing he was, he never looked you in the eye.

Not to mention how you were locked outside your room so you stood no chance to even touch said cellulose, thus you had close to no right to be angry.

“I... This is my room. I moved to 113 at the beginning of the semester.” His gaze once again, drifted elsewhere, studying the hall and reverted back to your shoulders, to the soft curve of your jaw.

“Did I not see you before? Ever?”Were you that absent and disconnected from your surroundings?

“Well, uh… you must’ve seen a lot of these.” He bent to touch the ground before getting on his tiptoes to raise his arm as high as he could, and an image of huge beige coats and white sneakers popped into your mind. The assumptions you made led you to the face your roommate told you about, Kim Seokjin, a pure aphrodisiac senior from art history. You mistook Beanie Boy for him, you thought, coming back at the right time to watch the former grin bashfully at his joke. He surely caught you smiling, for he continues his newfound rambling. “Yeah, Hoseok says he won’t get down in the club with Vincent Van Gogh, so I switched on the coats. Sorry for confusing you.”

“So that’s what he’s been doing instead of practising at 5 AM,” you said, shivering as you remembered the way his steps brought more complaints in your sophomore year than the last generation combined. “You get used to the sound after a while. It worked wonders during exam season, I didn’t fall asleep one night.”

“It’s the same thing, he just has more audience now.”

You chuckled, police sirens going off in your head at the realisation that you were enjoying this, a little too much. With suspicion creeping up behind you and a sense of urgency to cleanse yourself through group conversation, the need to end the conversation throbbed in your veins. “Well, thanks for that. See you!”

You felt bad for leaving like that, but a complaint appointment and anxiety generated from the possibility that he will ask you to bring them now were already keeping you locked towards your destination: the lounge.

“I heard there was an emergency,” you sat down on the couch as you bid hello to the group of girls, books, notes and flashcards scattered on the table and their laps. You recognised them as the girls from your floor, a few doors away from you, with whom you spent a good majority of your time at the beginning of freshman year before drifting apart, each focused on your own majors and forming groups there. Besides Sojung, your close friend you plopped next to, you’d see them on occasion and spend your time with them pretending to study and trying out nearby cafes.

“Yes, we ran here as soon as we heard about your struggle,” she said, expression serious as she petted your head. Not long after, her grin grew in time with yours diminishing, satisfied at how she stole your joke out in the open like this. Despite your opposite attitudes, Sojung’s deadpan humour was never far from your dramatic one and many times she was quick to outwit you. She already knew about the events at the party, having them narrated in an incoherent string of texts, followed by the conclusion that you were in need of pleasant company.

“You mean girl,” you pouted, “and to think I came all the way here to support you.”

The girl rolled her eyes, going back to her study material, forehead crease a little too obvious, and you welcomed the challenge to make her laugh.

“These exams shouldn’t exist. They’re stressing you out too much,” you complained, wishing you could do more when the light bulb flickered in your head. “I’ll change my major. I’ll get my diploma in being a wall so I can protect every girl from these assholes. See what they do then.” Catching a glimpse of the corners of her mouth rising, you pondered the occupation: not a bad idea at all if you considered it.

“This is hell. Don’t you have things to revise too, girl?” Seungyeon, the criminology major and girl you wish you could be, said. Serious yet sociable, a go-getter with elevated thoughts said at the right time, she was as close to a college model you had.

“It’s a few brackets and logic commands. Not a lot to grasp. Either it works, or it doesn’t.” If you had lived in a world of your own wishful thinking and didn’t stress out over these two months in advance, yes. Studying and trying out the material at midnight became incorporated into your routine, allowing yourself a two-day break every week. In spite of it, you were glad you didn’t have to memorize entire textbooks and that your field allowed for skill practice, adding the literature classes you partook in to exercise your creativity and widen your perspectives.

“Plus, I’m here to listen to any of you who needs help, since my girl here has other plans,” you said, tone honey-like as you encouraged your proposal. You were aware at that not many of them were bold enough to ask for help first due to fear of inconveniencing others, making you cautious in approaching the subject and with enough luck catching some friends. You didn’t know Seungyeon that well on a personal level, but you were striving towards having more people as ambitious as her, what was a little sugar coating? And as expected, she grinned at you, getting up to hand you her portfolio, all written in cursive black ink.

“Can you quiz me on these terms?” You nodded, brows furrowing at the thesaurus language.

Close to thirty minutes later, coat discarded and your head spinning from the new information, your hand froze on the foiled page as your phone started buzzing in your back pocket.“Pits of hell, main demon speaking.”

“Please stop doing this whenever you’re answering me in public.”

“There’s a price to pay if you’re making me participate in a phone call.” you smiled, delighted by Yuna’s whiny tone, already picturing her desperate eye roll. “No, it’s ok. Keep going.”

“I talked to the receptionist and he said they can rent us the place March 30th. Some TV broadcast will host a reality series there from the fifth onward.”

Blood drained from your face.“T-that’s. In two months,” you stammered, shoulders already slumped at different heights from the stress building and slapping each bone at varying times. “Why not April first so you can say psych? Please…”

“Minho thought it’d be funny too. He has a spring collection in Portugal on the third.”

“What kind of thing is he modelling on your wedding week? Lord.”

“Tuxes.”

“Forget I asked,” you said through your teeth as your nails dug into the cover of Sojung’s manual, threatening to fold the piece and rip its remains. “And you want me to do what? Mhm… A few errands, right, close family wedding. Thank fuck for that at least. Sure, I don’t have anything else. Yes, I’m serious. Love you. Ok bye.”

Shifting your eyes to the group, you stared each of them in their pupil with solemnity as your body slumped on the couch till it met the criteria of a shapeless blob. “I’m doomed,” a sigh left your lips as your hand travelled to meet Sojung’s, craving physical affection in this time of need. Might as well get it from a pretty girl. “Here’s my end, cheers. Please raise a drink in my memory next time you go out.”

The girl cooed at your dramatics and squeezed your hand, reaching to caress your cheek and pull your head to her shoulder. She was not the one with words, but she never minded offering you physical comfort to remind of her support. Your eyes closed by themselves, wishing to drape yourself over her long legs and hide your face in her neck, a place where no responsibility could haunt you as you were hidden by her styled hair and comforting arms. In your crisis, you thanked heaven for women’s existence and for your luck to be surrounded by so many of them before you continued.

“She wants me to help with the wedding and I-I don’t know anything about this shit. I’m not good at the whole aesthetic thing.”

And a little part of your heart broke, the truth of your statement ringing in your ears. Although you learnt how to be confident in your abilities as you grew out of teenage years, you still had more to go through until you were comfortable with the unknown. Enthusiastic willingness existed, but it wasn’t always enough, and it hurt to be aware of it once again, having your stomach throb from the fear of disappointing or ruining things with your input.

“But you have style,” the girl added. “I love those tennis skirts you wear.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know about colour coordination, or materials, hell I don’t even know what a chiffon is...”

“Then why offer to do this?”

“Cause she’s busy you know,” you peeked at the biology book in her lap (the one you threatened to snap mere moments ago), thinking about how great it would be to exist as a paramecium.“She has a career and all while I’m here considering majoring in being a wall. And I don’t want her to carry such a burden alone.”

“You have time to learn. And if not, I know someone who can help with that. Namjoon is amazing with these things. I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting anything-“

A part of your brain lit up in recognition, but you ignored it, not bothering to look-  too busy wallowing in your misery to be bothered with chats.

Sojung moved, making your head snap off her shoulder and have you grasp your surroundings–to be specific, their new addition to it: Beanie Boy from Gender Studies, sat on the folding chair with a stack of books in his lap. “Namjoon, you’re here, I have to ask–”

Time ticked as gears turned into your brain, throwing the information in every angle until you processed it. You nodded, mouth agape, thinking what you should put inside a conditional command to make this situation look better, hopeful as you were. It ended up something like this:

if (disasterhappens) { pleasedont(); }

Squeezed between the timeline of a Data Structures course and the unforgiving cold, you stepped out of the bus the same pace as Namjoon, whose name you picked after your last encounter. In your classroom, he’d often remain quiet, thus your conscience didn’t feel too bad about making an excuse for your pea-sized memory. Faces were easy to memorize, but God forbid, hold on to a name and your brain threatened explosion. This time, true to his word, he ditched the coat, going for a padded jacket.

It worried you the slightest, as it had him open to the attacks of the weather, but you kept it to yourself.

“What are we doing?”

“They got most of the stuff done, so I don’t have to bother with calligraphers and shit to send out invitations or find photographers, we picked the dress three months ago... it should be easy.” You flicked open the cover of your pocketbook, proud of the doodles you managed between the tasks. “I have to rent the tablecloths, organise the seating positions, order the flowers, argue with the guy at the venue, other useless stuff, then- oh! Get the cake- that’s her taking pity on me for sure.”

“Do you have any specifics? If not, we can work something out. I know what women like.”

You squinted in suspicion, tone rich with all the certainty you had the ability to muster. “I bet you do.“

His eyes widened, “No, I didn’t mean it like that-”

Keeping your mouth shut for the first time in your life, you stood to realise he was helping you; he didn’t look like he signed the petition to buy you a tinfoil hat. By law, you were obliged to restrain the second nature which leaned towards hostility- for men. The notion made you sigh, wishing for a way to tell him it was fine without it becoming weird or turning into a race for apologising. “Either way, I have no escape. Might as well drag someone to hell with me.”

Namjoon said nothing, stirring and adding salt to the soup of guilt you were harbouring for the last minute which boiled in your gut and threatened to overflow.

“Schedule comes as planned: be back at the station by 4 to take the 4:03 bus. That’s a 15-minute ride till we get to Yuna’s house where we’ll drop these, and from there it’s a 30-minute walk to the building.” With that, you sprung into action.

“You got this figured out, huh?” his voice rang with a tint of impress you picked up on.

Your lips pursed to suppress a smile as your pace slowed, “I mean, of course I do.” It was little before you changed your mind, thoughts running wild between your responsibilities and morals because of them battling out. The whirlwind made you move with more speed, your words almost matching the fastness of your legs.

“Thanks for coming with me and stuff. This will be a piece of cake, but still.” you shrugged, a little awkward to be running errands with a guy at 3:15 PM like one of those middle-aged couples. Hence why you resorted to Conversation 101, mastering it in time to deal with such an unfamiliar situation. Truth be told, your wished for a method to express your gratefulness now that he doubled it by he was accompanying you in the time between classes, a holy period marked by relaxation– not picking out from thirty shades of silk red.

However, by itself, the ‘thanks’ had remained stuck in your throat, in need of an extra push to make it sound nonchalant instead of a word of relief which decreased the anxiety blood levels.

He didn’t seem to mind. Namjoon walked behind you without struggle due to your bulldozer walk, eyes fixed on his steps and hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I’m happy to help.” You turned your head to look back at him, a pursed smile lingering on your features making you repeat the action every five seconds. Turn, stare, square up with your facial muscles.

“You must really want those notes, huh? Is the class that important?” you joked as the two of you approached the store, hand reaching out to open the door with Namjoon trailing close.

“Well, I-” Namjoon paused, startled when your feet came to a halt at the doorstep, body spinning to make eye contact with him. The grip you had on the door handle twitched as you watched him come closer and closer, releasing right as he was about to step inside. In a perfect impersonation of an ostrich, his head pulled back as the door closed in seeming slow motion, reminding you of how much of a bad fanfiction your life was every time you went outside.

His widened eyes bordering on mania met yours through the glass, breaths living him as if he was trying to deflate and disappear from you as soon as possible. You gasped and bowed your head, moving to open the door, tugging it towards you with no result before his hand enveloped the handle, yanking it open. The force sent you aiming towards the pavement before strong fingers gripped your forearm and pulled you straight.

Straight into him.

Your mouth gaped, arms flying out to his biceps to push him away from you and save yourself out of this situation–that’s what you were planning. Instead, you froze, fingers still gripping the muscles because, despite the accident, you were touching him. A man.

The best part was that Namjoon seemed as frozen as you felt, his gaze busy tracing every feature, never leaving your face. Your heartbeat became more erratic by the second as embarrassment crept upon your cheeks, but you were not the bitch without prior experience to trainwrecks like this- after all, you made codes. Thus, you laughed and tightened your grip, slowly shaking him before the pace increased. “We have to be very precise! Do you understand me? This is for a far greater cause, we need to pay attention to every shade and detail, point blank-”

“Period. I wouldn’t have been here if I didn’t know,” the words come out gentle as he tilts his head, fingers trailing forward to pet your shoulder before distancing himself. He gave a curt nod, signalling for you to move, and if this was any other time you would’ve protested, you took it as an opening to flee.

“Yes, of course,” you mutter as you walk through the variety of fabrics. Yeet. The notes app on your phone came in handy now, as you had an excuse to focus on anything but him. Most of the instructions were clear, silk fabric, ask for the rented option because buying requires to iron them and none of you knew how to use a household object like that, stick to the theme and pick-

“Apple red?” you said out loud to the cloned shelves adorning the entire store, each inclined in a different way for aesthetic purposes, or to make your life difficult. “She’s so pretentious. What even is that, they all look like fucking red.”

“Couldn’t a professional do this?” Namjoon inquires from beside you, scrutinizing the interior design before settling on a banner painted on the wall. “Live laugh love. Very suburban.”

“Dunno, maybe this way they thought they could get away with spending less money. Not like they’re lacking any, goddamn family-oriented capitalists.” you rambled, being used to inserting dramatic lines in your speech with your girlfriends. Nevertheless, this territory had boundaries on pending left to be established. From your knowledge, guys weren’t used to interacting with language innovationists, so you had to sweeten the deal a little to avoid feelings of inferiority. “They could’ve counted on me finding a hero since men and all are sooo good with details.”

You sighed. Way to go, sarcasm.

Namjoon only chuckled, continuing to study the store’s organisation system. “I’ll go look for what we need, and we’ll get back in 10 minutes to compare. Hope that’s okay.” He dashed by you, your brows furrowing before realising it was time to roll, stomping away to browse through foldings.

After forgoing the opportunity to give up halfway, you returned to him with six different shades, raising each hand to present it to him, starting with the first option at hand, a deeper shade of red.“I think I found it. How’s this?”

Namjoon licked his lips.“Uh, well, it looks a little-”

“A little what? It’s red.” you pointed with your head as if it was obvious before lifting the others up. “All of these are red.”

“That is wine red,” he explained as he scratched the back of his neck. “We should pay more attention to details if we want to do a good job.”

Your left eye twitched. Namjoon had been kind to you (human standards, not male ones) in the time you spent together. Guaranteed, his timing was off during most of your meetings and in objective standards, he did nothing wrong, but your conscience didn’t enjoy subtle reprimanding. In fact, she felt threatened, ready to have you bring out the big guns. You had some logic and attention to detail too in any state of tiredness; it was a matter of whether it wanted to be exercised.

Despite your lack of knowledge in colour theory,  blamed on your monochromatic wardrobe, at first sight, it looked like apple to you! Yet, determination rose in your chest and now the world shed new light upon your sight- you would pick the best goddamn apple colour in this store.

He did nothing wrong. Still, you weren’t at fault either because your competitiveness flared over the most useless reasons.

“Huh, seems like I’ve been eating the wrong apples.” You wanted to drop the fabric onto the floor for dramatic effect, yet your common sense stopped you, too worried about the workers that would have to clean up after the two of you. “How about this one?”

“That’s burgundy.”

“How do you even know those?”

“My mother has that hair colour… Every lady over forty in our neighbourhood uses that.” Chin tucked, he looked down at his pile to avoid your gaze. “I think this is more accurate.”

You inspected the piece with the attention of a fine painter, ready to create your own Starry Night with tablecloths and future flowers.

“Looks like candy. That apple’s full of chemicals. Yuna only likes organic, farm stuff,” you chirped out of pure pettiness, and Namjoon must have sensed it, because his pose turned frigid, glare with raised eyebrows aimed like an arrow towards you. “I’m sure this one is right-”

“That’s crimson,” his voice interjected. “There’s no way this is good for a wedding unless we’re talking the Red one.”

Both of your tones grew sassier and the man you sassed at the end of your course morphed into a reflection of yourself. Nice but ready to cut if you’d open your mouth in the next three seconds. Bad for both of your sakes, you had no qualms about passing whatever limit because you were the tear in the system–for fuck’s sake, you made the system. “Lucky for me, I have no idea what that is. I don’t watch hipster shows.”

Let out a sound similar to a laugh meant to be suppressed yet it escaped anyway. “That’s the farthest thing possible from hipster.”

“Fine, I’m not supposed to care about those anyway.”

A passive-aggressive smile. “Yes, we should go back to our task and try to solve the problem.”

Another one. “There’s no problem, I’ll look for more and then we’ll go on our way.”

“Of course,” Padded boy retaliated before sitting in front of another shelf. “This?”

“It’s blinding my eyes. It’s not gonna match. She also wants freesias, let’s just find something similar,” you said as you dug through the packages on the bottom shelves. “Ha, how about this?”

“It... “ He tilted his head, letting out a deep exhale, “it looks good.”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” You clutched the fabric to your chest, ecstatic to leave colour combination to the experts and never return again.

With crossed arms and hostility radiating off him, Namjoon, the image of attention to detail, looked as if he was about to launch into a rant about nihilism and why shit like this shouldn’t matter at your smallest gesture. You mastered the same fixed stare, as your friends told you several times and you focused on the floral details at the empty cashier’s spot, scared of what might happen if each of you directed it towards the other.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Both your heads snapped to a man in overalls, flower crown resting on top of his head and grin beaming on his features- until he saw the both of you glaring at him, “Oh. I apologise for the delay.”

You broke out of your trance, gesturing at the packaged cloth. “We’d like to rent uh… ten of these.”

The man returned with your fulfilled request and you hurried to get a hold after swiping on Minho’s smiley-face covered credit card. You gave an awkward smile which you hoped he saw before switching to Namjoon, who was a bit difficult to interact with due to the messy way you were holding the items.

“I’ll hold them myself. Help me out with the door,” you muttered from under the mountain of fabric, feeling a little self-conscious of being this authoritative in a fabrics store.“If you want to.”

“It won’t move. Hold on.” From outside, he clutched the handle and pulled it back with his entire body, leaning half-suspended in the air. His leg, like a whip from God, stretched out over the pavement in pointé position to reach the other door and fight to push it as you squeezed through the minimal space.

Ignoring Namjoon still stretched out trying to open doors for you, you checked your hand watch, the image making you gasp.“Oh no! It’s 4:10 p.m.” You turned to him, eyes wild and devoid of any humanity as he got into standing position at last.

“We had to be at the bus station at 4! The next bus is in 6 minutes and it’s going to take us 15 minutes to get there and I can’t afford a taxi.” You sprinted with the most speed, but after an entire fifteen seconds on the clock your feet planted on the ground, hands on your knees and throat constricting as you struggled for air.

“Why do I never do cardio I-” you panted to no one in particular as Namjoon’s figure passed you, increasing the distance with controlled steps. “Oh fuck. Hold on. Wait!”

Your body did its best to maintain your equilibrium as you chased after him, tablecloths in hand.“How on Earth are you moving this fast-”

With a gaze at his wit’s end, he waited till you advanced to him before snatching the packed items from you and digging through his back pocket to get his wallet out. “Hold this and pay,” he said as he intertwined his arm with yours, hitting the acceleration button full force without warning, “There’s no time for little legs.”

Once again, your heart joined the marathon.“Hey–wait! Wait, I didn’t plan a sprint in this, my hair’s going to be ruined!” The wind’s presence smacked you at once too, even air attacking as you tried and failed to keep up with his pace. Thus, all left to do was whine about it. “Move slower! My hair, I–I can’t let people know I’m ugly–hey!”

“Spill.”

“Quite interesting that you assumed I’d have anything to complain about when I never did it in my life.”

Sojung quirked her eyebrow, pausing her scrolling to turn her head and judge you properly, to which you pursed your lips- fighting hard to not burst into laughter and blow your cover.

With the aid of a motivational discourse about the balance between studying and having fun (the most you can have in said weather), you managed to bribe her into watching a movie as long as you made the sweet tea and let her pick. A problematic duo, Sojung and these choices, since she had a torturing streak going against your brain cells, but you followed her rules, ready to rumble by immersing yourself into whatever character you deemed the dumbest. Now, warm cup in hand, there you stood, squeezed to her side due to the bed’s size, looking like her disciple, or at least a very starry-eyed novice.

How else were you supposed to be, as you were cuddling with an objective image of temptation under the blankets, bare feet ducking under hers to steal her warmth? A woman who radiated daintiness without effort, the tips of her hair still wavy from Saturday’s party enough to create the aura of an Aphrodite of Science who pulled you in, who charmed you into wanting to feed her grapes and braid her hair.

“You haven’t talked about it in days. I’m worried,” she stated as if you broke our friendship code by avoiding the wedding topic, which you thought you were doing a pretty good job on. Yesterday you even stuck to the manners code while convincing the photographer not to reschedule, reminding him with the required politeness of who he was dealing with. Your sister didn’t like to flaunt her status and neither did you with yours (whether you had one was arguable), yet you never minded reminding people who she was in case she got too humble.“You’re not like that.”

“Fine, don't look at me like this- there’s a reason why I should’ve said no. I made a fool out of myself.” your friend nodded, giving you the gesture for ‘go-ahead, confess your sins’. “So we got to the store, I walked first right, cause you know how I move, and I opened the door and you know I’m not an animal so I wanted to hold the door open for him but-”

“But he’s a man.”

“Yeah and I can’t-” you closed your mouth, opting for indecipherable gestures with your free hand, “fraternize with the enemy, for lack of a better word. And I almost hit him with the door.”

With a temporary interest, you watched as the beginning credits for whatever movie Sojung picked. This way you could postpone the pain a little. Deep breaths.

“I didn't know how he is with these things, I- we argued a lot. Over tablecloths.”

“Of course. Like me and Mino when we had to do that project together. The cells we had to analyze looked like cones to me but he insisted they're joints.”

You laughed, a full sound that came with you shaking your head, “The bar is on the fucking ground, God.”

“Mhm, but I'm sure Namjoon wasn't like that. He's very immaculate and detail-oriented with his work, not thinking about joints,” she emphasised on the last words. “He’s an alright guy. A little passive-aggressive sometimes but he'll get over it.”

“Yeah, he’s-” you sputtered, an adequate definition of Namjoon still foreign to you. Good would raise suspicions, not bad would have Sojung urge you into detailing. “Bearable.”

She gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. “Right. And his Insta shots are cute. You should follow him.”

You sighed, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone and obey her request. After a search lasting less than a few minutes, you caught sight of familiar fashion popping into your recommended. You clicked on the profile, pictures of animals and outfits for the day welcoming you, his trademark coats fitting perfect with his long legs.

Compared to the rest of his feed, his fifth picture was a close-up one, with him sitting on the ground, a deer on each of his side. At the display taken from a Disney picturesque, there it was: guilt drowning you again, this time sour edition. Why were you like this.

Granted, despite your differences and mutual pettiness, he tried to be patient for as long as he could-bless his heart- while you started out colder and less optimistic than usual and let your attitude get the best of you. Grumpiness was not a trait of yours, it was by chance you let it take the wheel again as you pressed the follow button. Bold of you to think he’d notice with his 1.3k mark, coming from the girl with 70 followers and three pics of you smiling.

Cuddled up to your friend, you settled on forgoing this matter, focusing on the movie and hoping the guilt soup would simmer down. Later swearing as your insides turned to mush, you buried your head in the pillow, groaning as you re-imagined the scene with the male lead trespassing for the girl- risking fines for plucking the rose and jumping back the same gate with no effort. A hundred other similar scene to this one came back to you, and yet your reaction was impossible to control- half-way between an eye roll and batting your eyelashes, brain alternating between commands. Old, young, there were reasons cliches were cliches, and the public's feelings were what made them popular from the start.

This love was the exact movie love which would never be possible in real life, where the oh-so-young hero gave roses and heart attacks to an innocent girl having no prior experience with motorcycles. Thus, you didn’t bother to fight against indulging a little in whatever trope the movie was displaying. It mixed the leather jacket and typical bad boy vehicles with a retro type of romance.

“Why do you always insist on this kind of movies?” you asked, pleading with your girl to cease these activities but also hinting to her you wouldn't mind another one. Especially for this week, a time where love and capitalism went one on one. Valentine’s day was a sensitive topic for you, anti-capitalist and all, but you were aware of the loneliness some friends of your experienced. Hence why ever since you were a freshman, you bought envelopes and red paper, brought your trusted heart stapler and got to work. You had close to no criteria for your choices: close friends, people you had pleasant interactions with, girls under stressful situations. Random people on hallways who made you smile and later got a letter with a lollipop and your attempts at a cursive: ‘Someone’s thinking of you! Please buy chocolate on sale this year!’

“Wanted to get us in the mood.” She winked at you as her hand found yours under the blanket, laptop propped on her legs, “It’s fun seeing you squirm.”

“Come on, men in real life are not like that. There’s not one dude out there who will be this attentive to you, and if he does he's gonna get you in debt. You'll have to bail him out of jail.”

Sojung shrugged, yellow turtleneck brushing adorably against her chin. You didn’t know what offended you more: her silence or how cute she looked without even trying - making it impossible to stay fake-mad at her.

“My judgement’s been rotten, but if I said one fair thing in this world is that one.” An accusing finger was pointed at her, “You should agree. I haven’t seen you talk to any of the guys in your classes outside of school.”

Sojung took one long glance at you, taking her time to answer. “I guess I’m too busy right now.”

Your brows furrowed, “Yeah… college’s a bitch. But this time it’s doing you something good, right?”

“Eh. Another one?” she asked, seconds away from your definite yes.

After two more hours of cringing and containing your cooing, you remembered today’s goals: find Namjoon and consult him about the next weeks’ schedules, establish a proper plan. Of minimal interaction, if possible- in which both of you secured efficiency and less trivial arguing. You shook your head, finding the thought’s beginning ridiculous- going to his room, seeing him to tell him you didn’t want to see him.

Wasn’t a complete truth either.

Sense of responsibility and need for order aside, this was a bad idea. You didn’t check in with him, part hesitation part not having his number and being too awkward to write to him on Facebook (you were friends, you checked). Yet, you stood at his door, fist hanging in the air.

Three raps, a deep breath to calm your nerves- what nerves? Why would you experience that? You could do this. You knocked on doors before, thank God.

With newfound confidence, you smacked said door with all you had, positive that Namjoon would hear and you’d have no way out of it then. Bag on your shoulder, you fiddled with the letter hidden behind your back, hoping the glue dried enough not to move the heart from its middle. Earlier today, as you were bracing yourself for your mission, you saw Hoseok heading for practice. It eased you a bit, doing this in front of Namjoon alone.

The door opened and your mouth curled to the sound of it rattling from its hinges, “Hi, are you busy?”

Namjoon, in all of his bear pyjamas and bedhead glory, eyes round and wide stared at you with uncertainty. “I’m… not doing much. You can come in.”

“Were you sleeping? Sorry I didn’t say anything, I don’t have your number and-”

“No, no, we can solve that. I-” he paused, seeming to struggle, “That’s how I sit when I don’t study or go outside.”

Following after him, you watched as he sat back on his bed, same lotus position and brought his legs closer together to make space for you. Soon, he must have realized his mistake, tips of his ears turning red as his gaze moved back to you. “I mean! You can sit in Hobi’s bed. I’ll-” He rolled out of his bed, crouching next to his roommate’s bed so he was next to you, “yeah.”

“I don’t want to take away too much of your time-”

“I don’t mind.” He licked his lips, head dropping down, “Well, not that much. Please continue.”

You bent to show him what you’ve been working on- a logical scheme to ensure productivity without spending too long on a destination, tying together similar events. One which you ended up doodling on for illustration, marking the points where you might have trouble later and the way to approach them. “This is the battle plan. Minimum effort, maximum fun. I fucking hope.”

“Cute,” Namjoon said, a close-mouthed smile on, and you were right in the radius to get a glimpse at the true depth of his dimple. Oh. You pouted, mouth opening and closing as you tried to form a coherent thought at his words. You were not cute. “I mean the sketch.” 

Chest deflated, you pursed your lips at the geometric owl you drew, not pausing to catch the amused glint in his eyes or how his grin was growing. “Ok, first destination. So I searched for Google reviews, right, and the guy at the venue is a total asshole.”

“What’s the plan then?”

You breathed out, “I was… I was hoping that you can help with this one. I, err, struggle with being diplomatic around guys.”

He nodded, signature dimple popping out again.“Sometimes.”

Your mouth gaped in mock offense before you caught his gaze again. You cursed under your breath, looking down at your chest in indignation then switching to his desk chair. It resembled the one in the lounge to the point it was suspicious–making you squint at the offensive object, recalling the image of Namjoon last sat on when he was pulled into this mess.

“…And I’d appreciate you giving me some tips maybe, on how to deal with the guy. I’m desperate.” The option of going there and listing everything you and your family wanted without a compromise was tempting, but there were several warning bells pointing towards the opposite result.

“To begin, don’t judge his colour combination outfits.” He chuckled, lifting your mood a little. “Be assertive, but don’t make him feel out of control. Bring your demands in as suggestions.”

“Look intimidating but polite,” he said softly. “You already have half the part down.”

You puffed, “I breathed.”

“Doesn’t matter if the situation seems bad, don’t bend down to whatever he may tell.” He extended his palm towards you, and you gave him the sheet. “You think he stands a chance against these?”

“I was planning on that, but-” But it was difficult for you to do these without becoming snappy, without attempting to have the fucker trip with the power of your glare. Your voice died down in your throat as you stared at the bullet point tasks again.

Check in, talk about catering options and suggest food for their catering team to serve, confirm the guest list and the number of hours spent. Return a month later to assign the seats and assist the decoration process in case there was any need for changes. All that came as an obstacle was the man. The little devil impersonator you head so much about on hidden google reviews.

If you lost your cool it meant sabotaging one of the most important tasks of the entire scheme, which would guarantee a disaster in case you messed up. Here you were, with a possibility of rivalling Cinderella and getting expensive shoes stuck on stairs, only you’d lose the entire place instead of the shoe. It wasn’t like you could hold a wedding under your local drawbridge either-why did Yuna leave this on you? Why not pick Hyoyeon or Minho? Was this the time for you to develop a diplomatic streak?

Namjoon interrupted your impending existential crisis, “I’m free this weekend.”

Using the rational side of your brain, you submitted to his request, crossing off your earlier decisions. No interaction my ass, you thought. “Fine. I’ll pick you up on Sunday.”

As he meant to return your plan, you got up. “Actually, that is for you. And also this.” You pulled out the blue envelope, heart left intact to seal it.

“Oh?”

A rush of panic hit your gut from how he was looking at you, expecting you to go on. Did he want you to spell it out? God, no, you–“…found it at the door.”

As he got a hold of it, he let out a fake gasp; yet you weren’t so sure about the excitement which came across real, urging you to check the letter again for things you might have missed.

“Woah, it's right in the middle! Very sharp with the details,” the man tilted his head, not giving you any time to breathe. Like he was testing your reaction.

You tried to keep any tint of emotions at bay despite your body naturally adopting a more confident pose at the praise.“Mhm, agreed.”

“This is very thoughtful. I should thank the person when I see them. Even though it came four days earlier,” he said, biting his lip.

“Yeah-”

“Must have messed up the date.”

“Hey!” You paused, mouth closing shut. “Who cares? They made an effort.”

“You’re right, I’ll make sure to let them know.” He nodded with solemnity. “Was that it?” he asked and ended up mimicking your previous gesture, not meaning to come out like that.

“Uh, I have to go anyways.” You laughed to try and mask how startled you were. “I’ll… see you in a few days. Have a good one?”

I’ll try, he wanted to say, but instead he nodded, following you to the exit.

After you found the most bizarre way to ask for his number again, he meant to return to studying, thoughts of his appearance forgotten now that you left. He didn’t do much else since he woke up, neither he could say he expected anything to happen today, and he was long accommodated to the sturdiness of his chair to be bothered by sitting there for hours.

Settling on his usual space, he placed the papers you gave him under his stationery, focusing to remember the line he remained at. Though, it was no easy task, the little heart and doodles pulling on his attention and disregarding his work ethic. Damn them.

Before he registered his actions, Namjoon grabbed the papers again, taking in every piece of information laid on the battle notes he started out with. One thing that stood out to him was the contrast between your big personality, which appeared effortless to him, and your writing. He sort of expected messier handwriting taking up space on the sheet, similar to the way you acted each day.

Meeting you didn’t happen often, but he was neither blind nor deaf, he heard the degree of familiarity you used in speech even with teachers, had seen you in passing comforting people from the same dorm. He felt like a witness to some of your antics by the vividness Sojung described them with, complaining that kids at the volunteering centre would spend more time with you, attacking you with kisses to as you screeched and swore revenge.

Your writing was smaller and much more organized, taking up half the A5 paper you gave him. He didn’t know why he was even thinking about this, or why he felt like he found something new about you through it. Next came the letter, which contained a heart-shaped lollipop and a note attached to it, this time written in cursive but bearing the same letter size.

He chuckled as he read. Chocolate on sale. Ha, he bought that February second.

Some of the regrets for your experience together washed away as he spent more time re-reading, an impulse having him reach towards his stationery and take the scissors, cutting your schedule plan in half. You, in particular, were not the main cause for said emotions, he knew that much. Often he had a hard time telling people no, wishing to help as much as he could even if it came at his expense and a disappointed look from his friends who pleaded with him to listen, to stop caring so much about other people’s situations and turn his attention to him. Be selfish, take a break, practice self-care or whatever he wanted to call it, they told him. Look at you for once.

He still struggled with that. This time, like many others, his conscience was telling him he’s doing the right thing, but there was a slight change. Something pleasant stirring up in his loins, a level of contentment with his decision to accept. He could at last witness you rip that fucker to shreds.

The anatomy book was still open, but for the time being, he had no motivation to continue studying. He wanted to prevent losing your indications too, so he put the paper inside the book before closing it, only image available being the freesia you drew next to the first circle. No more information for now, he thought. After all, he could research plenty in his surroundings for the current chapter.

The cardiovascular system.

Based on your poor approximations, it had been more than a week since your last encounter with Namjoon, and a part of you wanted to scream because you had kept a lot of secrets in during this time. There was no date from when you began classifying your life as before and after Namjoon, but as the timeline stretched out you started talking to him more and more. To the point where you’d have inner monologues about it and whether you were doing the right thing, like the case in point.

You forgot about yourself on several occasions, swimming in special mathematics and the burden of college life which nearly drowned your optimism alongside that of your friends’. Yet, to your surprise, at least twice a day you’d find a lifeboat to lean onto which came in a package with a hose to swallow the water. Weird metaphors aside, in other words, you and Namjoon started texting a few days after he gave you his number and you managed to deliver the notes. And not just one phrase here and there, but multiple messages that had you debating food choices, new courses and the density of your literature teacher.

It turned into a habit, checking your notifications between classes because of him. Those close to you knew you preferred real-life communication to texting and made efforts to hang out as much as possible, so your phone hardly buzzed most of the time.

With the exception of him, of course. You discovered hidden opinions with the help of your flair for complaining and progressed on the stages of your friendship enough to be comfortable with the idea of him helping you. Well, calling it a friendship could’ve been a stretch, but development is development. Difficulties still arose in the eye contact department, but you discovered he opens up far more when he didn’t have to face you. Were you scary like that? He even followed you back on Instagram before liking all of your pictures, it mustn’t be the case.

Though, you couldn’t be the one to talk, because you ended up seeing him in passing once and got an existential crisis from waving at him, unsure whether you were at the stage for it or not yet. Ready to duck into a bush and never speak again, your eyes widened as you spotted him waving back and smiling, pointing at you to whoever he was with. Even bigger was the shock coming from him walking towards you and striking a conversation, asking you about your studies and the week you had. He was the same as always, shy grin on and ears listening with diligence as you fumbled for words and gaped like a fish at his interest in your well-being.

It was hard to hate him. There, you said it. Hard to despise a person of his type when all he did was-

Ping!

Driven by habit alone, you wet your lips as you unlocked your phone, thankful for the distraction of the thoughts causing you to be distracted in the first place.

[beanie boy] 8:50 a.m: you know, if that photographer keeps being an asshole, i got this friend that can replace him real quick [beanie boy] 8:50 a.m: his style is a little more middle-aged art teacher than mine, so it might be hard to accept him but he’s great [beanie boy] 8:51 a.m: promise?

The corner of your mouth curled, recalling the recent discussions of the guy throwing a fit because Yuna wanted a shot near the lake outside of the ceremonies, followed by one at the central park and how she went on to pay his fuel to shut him up. You didn’t even realise the lecture was close to finishing, and from what you heard, Thursdays around this time they’d let him go a few minutes early. According to calculations, he must’ve been texting you right as he got out of class.

[you] 8:52 a.m: you have ties in the photographer industry? [you] 8:52 a.m: is tht why you know so much colour theory…,, Damn

Where did he have ties though, it occurred to you. What was his major? During the time you spent talking, you felt like you knew a lot of trivial information about Namjoon that most of his classmates didn’t, but the origins of his passions stayed foreign to you. The notes app in your head updated with the urge to find out about it.

[beanie boy] 8:54 a.m: i held his light in the art museum as he was developing pics. We bonded then

You furrowed your brows, thoughts that Namjoon might have more titles around the campus except for the one you gave him foreign to your conscience. To this photography guy, he was light Boy, who helped him through hard times- was it his thing? Help random people, make them feel special and then never meet with them again?

[beanie boy] 8:54 a.m: his art is also weirdly motivational. Idk what it is about dog paws and noses that moves me to tears but it’s very helpful when i have a hard time [beanie boy] 8:55 a.m: are we on for today?

[you] 8:58 a.m: yes i hope so

He told you he didn’t have plans for the upcoming week starting today, and the venue devil reserved your discussion for the same days. Still, a part of you grew anxious from his lack of reply and agreement as you moved to the next class. Scurrying for your phone, you began typing again.

[you] 9:09 a.m: i mean, it’s ok if we don't Do it now. [you] 9:10 a.m: there’s still time. Idc

You put your trust in one man and look what happened. He hated you. He wanted to ditch you-

[beanie boy] 9:14 a.m: what? yes i want us to go today [beanie boy] 9:15 a.m: for the record, i ignored a ppt presentation to answer this [beanie boy] 9:15 a.m: and ouch, that’s cold. you really hurt me this time. [beanie boy is typing…]

[beanie boy] 9:19 a.m: maybe you can make it up to me with some tea later?

Your breath hitched as you read the notification on your phone. Too dangerous out there to open it.

[beanie boy] 9:19 a.m: heard it’s good for the soul

Yeah, the fucking soul alright. Glad he was preoccupied with his as he was toying with yours. Half pettiness half need to pay attention to your surroundings, you put your phone back in your pocket, ready to concentrate on your lecture.

Immersed in the new information and ways to solve presented to you, you forgot about your feelings regarding the matter and came back more energized and ready to take on the day. The day in which--oh no.

[you] 11:23 a.m: we’ll see about that [you] 11:25 a.m: meet me in front of the art building in three hours?

You didn’t mean to come out mysterious or cold, but now that it was done you were starting to embrace it, showing how much of a layered person you were. Bet photo guy didn’t keep him on his toes like this.

Bet photo man didn’t have to wait in front of a building looking like a sheep lost from the herd, no shepherd in sight to calm your nerves. Its new-age design and uneven blocks brought all the space for doubt to slither into your heart, no answer from Namjoon as of yet. You were hoping for the best, self-esteem steeling itself for you to erase the idea of him ditching you.

A hand fell to your shoulder, his face leaning into your range of sight and you let out the breath you were holding. “Hey, sorry I’m late. The professor wouldn’t let me go.”

You didn’t bother to turn to him, pout ever present as you rubbed your shoulder to get a bit of warmth. The wind was ruthless. “Wouldn’t want to keep such an artefact from discovery. Bet they had a lot to say.”

He still hadn’t let go of you, fingers instead tightening on your shoulder and bringing you closer to him, continuing to rub your grey jacket. You took a peek at him and he paused, cheeks puffed before he burst into laughter, making you look at him in wonder.

As he came back from it, his grin was still present, wide and shiny and rivalling the sun. The kind of expression that’s overwhelming, that makes your eyes crinkle and your mind foggy. It’s merciless in the way it lets the feeling seep through, surrounds with the sensation of allowing your defences to drop. It pulls you in and caresses your thoughts into melting, urging you to enjoy the moment. An endearment which is too familiar to you, but which had never risen from your essence and left drops of warmth and honeysuckle in its path.

Then, as an offence against your well-being, he said, ‘I’m glad you think so’, pulling you out of your daze.

You shook your head. This couldn’t be happening.

“Are we taking the bus this time too?” he said as he resumed to his usual distance.

“Uhh… that’s the plan.”

“Great! Let’s go!” he raised his eyebrows, challenging you with his power walk once again. The chances of you wearing the crown for the fastest walk were slim now that you had met Namjoon.

You didn’t even register the walk to the station, too preoccupied in trying to keep up with him and answer his questions about the guy at the venue as he was blurting out random ‘what an asshole’s. Paying for the ticket and squeezing between a swarm of people came as a blur as well until you were forced into Namjoon’s personal space, close enough to smell the wavering scent of his fabric softener. His gaze turned to you, face getting closer and making your eyes widen.

Namjoon opened his mouth to apologise, but you cut him off by reaching out and plugging one of the earbuds he removed to hear you back into his ear. With that, you turned around so your back was facing him, letting out a deep breath to even your heart rate. You didn’t remember crowded places having such an effect on you, though you supposed crowding anxiety developed at any age.

“How do you feel?”

“Focused,” you said. “I’m estimating the chance I’ll fail this.”

“Failure will never overtake you if your determination to succeed is strong enough.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Namjoon seemed to switch back to his shy persona, avoiding your gaze before his head snapped back to meet your eyes. “Just something to remember. Quotes like that usually calm my thoughts.”

It did make you calmer, just because you imagined Namjoon with his own suburban quote room. Maybe he was the type to read the quotes and meditate after, do a little yoga? Stretch those long legs and kicking other planets while he was at it? “Oh… thank you? Do you read them often?”

He nodded as he brought his cap down, bravery vanishing as the both of you entered the venue.

You grasped the modern twist that brought so many people in, that created a ballroom atmosphere even with the ordinary white curtains closed shut. Lines bloomed from the root of a crystal chandelier and served to separate the rose tones in pleasant shapes. Near their end, they were pulled from their seams and moulded to create another rose-gold halo, which reflected the light of the diamonds and poured right onto the glass-like floor. The thought that you’d be spending at least a day uninterrupted here was thrilling–it made you hide your hands behind your back, intertwine your fingers so you wouldn’t slip and touch.

If the place lured you into letting loose, the three-piece tailored to fit his frame posed a tightness to the chest area of the man waiting in the corner encouraged everything but. He surged forward with power stance and introduced himself to both of you, reaching out to shake Namjoon’s hand. You quirked an eyebrow as you exchanged names, sharing a confused look with him. Following his gestures, you studied both of their reactions with a careful eye as they shook hands, comforted by Namjoon’s lost gaze. At last, he moved to you, and you gripped with the biggest force your noodle arms could handle.

“Our pleasure.”

“We have provided a full course dinner with traditional dessert and listed our vegetarian options in the e-mail we sent. Our in-house catering accepts suggestions up to 10 days before the due date. You can only choose to switch a meal with another one that is available on our list.”

He led the two of you on a tour of the place, explaining the back door exits and pointing to the emergency pans plastered on the main hall. Alright. Positivity. It wasn’t so bad, Breast Man over there might’ve stored some sense of organization and compassion in those gigantic tits–

“The team will be available from the start of your appointment and continue till the end of the day. Anything after midnight will have to be covered by your service or paid for a fee.”

Your face fell.

“I–I don’t understand, if we paid for the entire day then how do they need to pay again?”

He beamed. “Nothing has been covered for the 31st.” Caught you without a reply and continued,

“The only thing ensured from one to seven a.m are the accommodations for the guests coming from abroad which will take place at our partners from Novotel.”

For fuck’s sake, were you about to argue with this asshole over the hours in a day?

“We reserve a full day of preparations, and it is recommended you visit during the week for a check. The rest, in case you want to you can reserve a date to establish the final changes to the menu, decoration, and other services that our team has covered.”

How you wished for the chandelier to drop down and split the earth so you’d never have to face this man again.

Despite the circumstances being turned against you and your temporary fluster, you tried to collect your thoughts enough to formulate an answer. In the corner of your eye, you saw Namjoon tensing. “Of course. I have some right now Regarding the main-course. Swipe the vegetables for carrot puree and add caramel soy sauce. And we’d like–”

And then the head gears that caught up to you made you notice how he was doing nothing but stroll around like a pompous poodle, not paying any attention to you. Did he insist on meeting so he could stay here and attempt to intimidate you? Very funny, how you’ll show him–

The suggestions. Right.

Or not.

“We provide–”

“Sir, with all due respect–” The rest of your cognitive functions not responsible for speech lounged to watch another episode of your embarrassment. “Having a set schedule for the guests is impractical since each plane has its own set-off time. Leaving them with no place to stay for possible hours on end is impolite, and I… I think that it’s not an image your business strives to have…” Your confidence was leaving you like your last hope, but by his face you were making some points. Namjoon remained quiet next to you, nodding on occasion and making little sounds to support your words. Being a beginner in the art of scamming, neither of you could find a strong enough argument for all of his schemes, but you remained tough, defending Yuna’s choices in front of this food and muscle growth connoisseur.

Annoyed from your end and sure to have picked on your guard dog behaviours, tight suit ended up noting the food changes and finalised the details for your next meeting, part of him left unsatisfied, from the way he was watching you and Namjoon. Maybe it was the chest. Then, as if struck with a revelation that will make his horns show at last, he smirked down at you.

“Business aside, it’s a little early to get married, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, body stiffening as you processed his words. You were doing your best, but the feeling was already weighing upon your chest at the mention of doubt regarding the couple. This guy. “Sure, a little early for me to–”

Without a word, you felt Namjoon’s pinky lock with yours before gripping your entire hand and enclosing it in its own. You stopped in your tracks, struggling to think of something else. “to… make a decision, but for them, it’s not. They love each other a lot. They’ll be so happy to be married.” You nodded to yourself, 100% sure of what you were saying as you squeezed Namjoon’s hand unconsciously.

With that, you got out of the situation in one piece, arrangement still intact but with a neon purple bruise to your ego. Devil man made you promise you’d call and schedule another meeting, this time with the staff for decoration as he seemed to milk the last seconds of his scammer persona.

As he was all jittery, you waited for him to release his grip, but, to your surprise, you found yourself pulled further from the building.

“I apologise,” Namjoon whispered, his hand hanging onto your open one.

“Huh?”

“That guy, ugh–he’s very good at making people lose their temper. That was ridiculous.” He puffed, at the limit of frustration and something you couldn’t decipher.“I didn’t know what to say or if you wanted me to say anything. I don’t know, I guess–I didn’t want to discredit you. Not in front of him. Not e-”

He switched to your still intertwined fingers and watched as the tips of your fingers dragged against his. You let them drop back to your sides as you watched his, curling around his denim pocket. You never looked at him, too focused on trying to pick each line running through your head to notice him getting lost in the distance between your hands.

“Namjoon?”

The words died on the tip of his tongue. “Mmm?”

“How was I?”

“Uh…You were fine, got a little carried away at the end. But that’s–we need to talk about–”

You shushed him, a rush of motivation hitting you. Blame it on sparkly eyes, your lack of care for yourself, the moon, Mercury in Retrograde. You were thirsty, and you were going to do something about it. Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Forget it. Let’s go get that tea.”

a/n: and part 1 done! feedback means the world to me and i’ve been working on this for like two months so pleathe tell me ur thoughts! peace! its gonna get spicier in the next parts but we had 2 establish some ground...ehehe ;) thx to miss liana @yuengi for being the sexiest wife n beta possibol.!!!

[lovenotereminders]

Nearly 4 months ago I broke up with my bf of 3 years. He changed my life and made it more wonderful than I could have ever imagined. Ever since I was old enough to think about it, I had never wanted kids but somehow loving him had me dreaming of us with 3 children one day. The way he loved me was so magical and strong, even the most romantic of fairytales couldn't have given me a glimpse of what he gave me. At the end of last year, an amazing job opportunity came up for him. 1/?

We never in a million years thought it would take off the way it did but it became a huge success seemingly overnight. I was so happy for him, I could see him gaining confidence he never had before. He was working long and hard nights and while we weren't seeing much of each other, I thought that in the end, everything would be worth it. There was a woman who got the same amazing opportunity as him, she was is partner in it all and they became very close. 2/?

She's a little older than him (he's 3 years older than me) and she always sort of came off as having a motherly nature towards him. She's kind and full of love and one of the most wonderful people you could meet. I was happy that she was in our lives and that he was so happy at work and had someone so amazing to get through the stressful times with. She had just recently broke up with her bf and her lease was up the same time as our roommate moved out so we offered her to stay with us. 3/?

I know he never cheated on me with her or anything, even if that's what it seems I'm going to say. But I could tell he had a bit of a crush on her. I was never jealous or anything. I had a crush on our old roommate and it was just a silly thing, like dreaming of a celeb or something. We always made jokes of it and we even made jokes of him and her saying she was the at work girlfriend and I was the at home one. Nothing was ever uncomfortable. Just lighthearted stuff. 4/?

Anyway, over time his work was progressing very well and more and more projects kept coming up. At first I could handle it because it was just a few months, but as more projects kept coming, the months kept going on and there never seemed to be an end in sight. It was more "this is my life now and this is how little time you get to spend with your boyfriend" instead of "this is only for a few months and once it's over we can spend as much time together as we want" 5/?

Around Christmas time was when I *really* felt things go downhill. That's when the projects really started piling up, but we had a little less than 2 weeks where we were both on a Christmas break. Something felt different during that week and a half. The love just felt..off? We had fun, and spent time together but I guess there was just a spark missing. I also couldn't help but notice he was texting the coworker girl a lot. We lived in London and she was back home in Australia on her break. 6/?

During this week, he was supposed to be with me the whole time but again, work things made him have to travel. I had decided I couldn't do it anymore and as much as it hurt me, I knew us breaking up would be healthy for the both of us. We could both focus on work and not have to worry about each other. He agreed but it was hard for him to do. We spent a whole night crying and planning our futures and saying we would get back together once things calmed down a bit. 8/?

I had moved from Seattle to be with him in London. We met through mutual friends when we both visited California one summer. I don't have a very good family, and all my London friends are friends with him, plus wanting some sunshine and not wanting to hassle of a visa, I moved to California after we broke up. I thought it would be easy to make friends since I have some acquaintances but it turns out nobody really wants to hang out with me but one person. 9/?

He's very kind, and I think he likes me, but he's literally the only person I have in my life right now and I don't want to ruin that by dating him and it possibly not working out. Plus, I'm not ready for a new bf. Meanwhile, my ex is now dating the girl who he was traveling with for work. I know social media is a big lie, but from what I've seen and heard, he's happier than ever with her. It crushes me that he was able to move on so quickly and I still cry myself to sleep every night 10/?

Wishing I could go back to a year ago before all this work crap started happening. I'm happy that he's happy, and she's a good person. I don't hate either of them but I hate the situation. I'm so heartbroken and I don't know what to do. My friend who likes me is cute and funny and pretty much exactly my type but I know I'm not mentally ready for that right now. But at the same time, all I want is to feel as loved as I did before. I'm just so lost and lonely and I don't know what to do ): 11/11

(I apologise I don’t seem to have received part 7 - tumblr likes to eat my asks unfortunately) 

I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been through that, I can’t imagine how difficult that has been for you. Breaking up sounds like it was a wise decision if the situation had gotten to be untenable, even if it was a really painful thing to do, and it’s normal to be upset that he’s moved on so quickly. It sounds like it might be a good idea to mute your ex and his new partner on social media for a while if seeing that sort of thing is making it harder for you. 

It also sounds like not dating the friend you have in Cali is a good idea - craving the kind of affection you had before is a normal thing, but I agree with you that it would be unwise to move on before you’re ready and potentially affect a good platonic relationship to pursue that craving. 

Trying to move forward with your life is probably the best thing you can do right now - California is the sort of place with loads of social opportunities to meet new people and maybe pursue something you’re interested in. You could for instance check out facebook events and look for something you think you might enjoy - things like open mic nights, volunteering, craft groups, skills classes, improv comedy workshops, etc. are all good places to meet new people and get out there and have a good time, so it might be worth seeing if there’s anything that catches your eye in your area. Investing some time in yourself is probably a good idea too - you deserve some extra care and to focus on your own self-improvement after everything. That could mean anything you wanted it to - throwing yourself into your work, taking up a new hobby or getting back into something you’ve been meaning to for a while, learning a new skill, doing something further your own improvement like maybe taking an exercise class or learning a new language, etc. Anything that adds some extra fulfilment to your life so you’re not dwelling on how things could have been, and maybe takes up some of your time and energy so you don’t have as much free time to miss how things were and miss your partner, might be beneficial to you. I’ve got some other tips that might be helpful to you on this FAQ post from my suggestion blog. 

I’m sending you good vibes my dear, and I hope your pain eases soon and you’re able to move past this dark place to find that everything has worked out for the best 💗