#i had missed the deadline to give her a picture of my choosing so she send the portrait with a photo of me she'd taken herself

[splenderai]

absolutely criminal to leave this in the tags

cheers to anyone else getting emotional in the office on this fine thursday

For those who needed to hear it today

[queen-of-confusion13]

Saying "I love you" with a puzzle

The inspiration for this project comes from an Advent Calendar puzzle made by Karen Puzzles on youtube. She is awesome!

Clementoni Disney Gala puzzle. Over 6000 pieces.

I bought this puzzle for my mother-in-law Betty with the money she gave me from her husband. He passed away and she said to take the money and buy something he would buy. So, I decided that a Disney puzzle would be great to give her for her 80th birthday. The idea was to take a puzzle from him and put a personal touch on it and give her 80 days of happy puzzling filled with love. They are the best grandparents to my kids. They even went to Florida with us and spent 10 days at Disney World. They are game on. My mom never got to see my kids, but I am quite sure she hand picked my husband for me knowing that Betty would fulfill her only regret. The chance to be a grandma to her kids like my mom's was to her. Betty is love, plain and simple.

Step 1. Choose a puzzle the right size that has significance and that would be fun to make.

So easy, right? I had watched Karen do a lot of puzzle reviews on her channel, so I knew what to look for. I tried to search for a Disney party puzzle and this is what I found that would work, but there weren't any reviews out there about making it that I could find. The brand name didn't ring a bell. My favorite all time puzzles are made by Springbok. My friend Ben said that they have good pictures, uniquely shaped pieces, and they hold together so blocks of them can be easily moved. I knew what I wanted and rolled the dice that it would be the one.

How wrong can a person be? I was that wrong. If you take a good look at the picture there is way too much white, black, and gold and the pieces are small enough that they could be in any of the spots with those colors. The pieces would fit in the wrong place easily. So many times I didn't know I had the wrong piece until it's missing spot called out for it. And if you get 4 pieces fitted together it is almost impossible to pick them up without falling apart. I finally figured out how to move a strip by pulling outward on the two ends to create tension and they would hold.

I wanted to make a big statement of how much I love Betty, so it had to be a big puzzle. I think it measured 4.5 by 5 feet. It took nine foam boards to fit the entire puzzle, so it was assembled on 9 separate boards and put together at the end.

Where do you start on a puzzle like that? Edges. And sort the pieces. The only problem was that the puzzle was so big and the characters had to many similarities that it was really hard to sort. A pile of one color of pieces would actually be scattered across the entire puzzle. The good thing was the band with the striped coats. That was a starting point. I found out by the end of the puzzle that the color of confetti differs on the right and left sides, so that helped. It was the saving grace of the entire puzzle. Otherwise, it was a slow, piece by piece detective story.

By looking at the picture (no it is not cheating Grandma Bessie) and searching for the exact spot in the picture that each piece came from I was able to assemble it. The characters got different names and I would find who it belonged to and sort accordingly. It was easiest to spot out a few pieces, put them on a paper labeled with the name assigned to the character in my attempt to bring order to the madness, and assemble a few at a time. They could be on any of the 9 boards, so it was a constant shuffling of boards with puzzles on them to get them "home". Yes, this did take months. All day. Every dayNo, I didn't have anything else going on at all. This was my life and I had a deadline.

Step 2. Design the puzzle in a puzzle.

My husband was the star of the project. He had to have gamma knife surgery to kill a brain tumor, so the ride up to Mayo Clinic was spent trying to figure out the secondary image. We wanted to break the puzzle into meaningful pieces. Keily Rodni had just gone missing, so this was a time I will always remember. Searching the cars on the highway for her license plate and praying she would be found soon and making a layout for the puzzle in a puzzle.

I got an idea of the direction we needed to go, and my husband, with the patience of a saint, used all his spreadsheet skills to map it out. We created code talk like "pop that heart". We worked together to create 80 different sections of puzzle that could be made in order, one day at a time. In the picture there are the words "happy birthday Betty" and "love" was on there twice. And there were 80 hearts. It was a positive/negative approach. Some hearts were created using pieces, and other hearts were made by using the empty space. If you are wondering how we did it all I can say is that my father-in-law was in charge, and Betty was the best thing that ever happened to him, so love in abundance along with angels helping was the key.

This is the master puzzle map we ended up with. Each piece is given a number between 1 to 80 according to which day they would be placed, and the puzzle had to be disassembled perfectly. There was a chance that this project was too complicated and wouldn't be any fun to complete, and that would be torture for her.

Step 3. Disassemble the puzzle according to the master map.

All nine poster boards were pieced together and the completed puzzle was then disassembled one number at a time. An outline was made around each day's parts as they were removed and labeled with that day's number. We showed her where it started on day one. The line under "Betty" and the upright of the middle T. The puzzle created new shapes every day. Every piece attached to an already existing piece except for when we jumped to the border. Otherwise there was a specific spot those next pieces would fit.

All the pieces were put in baggies labeled from 1 to 80 put in the puzzle box lined up nicely, and we gave her the giant board with the 80 days outlined on it. No, this wasn't cheating either Grandma Bessie. After her party she started assembling it. It was going to be fun to see it come together and I sure hoped that she would enjoy it. This was the biggest love message I had ever given her...besides the grandkids. And the proof of divine guidance over this project was completely confirmed when there was not a single piece missing in spite of being handled and dropped upteen times.

I love you Betty and I am so glad you are my kid's grandma.

[cherrycheridarling]

'someday maybe' | t.h.

tom holland x singer!reader

warnings: one swear? fluff and angst? kisses

summary: you're so close to finishing your second album when your manager pushes the deadline, your ex tom helps you write the final track.

{listen to someday by michael bublè and meghan trainor (if you want)}

wc: 2.1k

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey,"

"Yes, yes. I know. You are not being a very helpful manager right now, Noelle." you spoke to your phone as you paced around the living room, "Okay. I'll get working on it. Bye." you huffed and threw your phone against the couch.

Your album was due to be released in two months and you needed one more song to tie it all together. Your manager, Noelle, was pushing you to finish the song so she could start the promo of the album.

You were incredibly grateful for your career, but the pressure weighed down on you everyday. Never ending.

With a final groan you picked up your acoustic guitar and sat on the couch. Picking at the strings, trying to find a melody. You hit record on your voice memo app before strumming away.

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey, we can be in love once more. 'Till then I won't give my love away. Darling, I'm forever only yours." you sang softly.

You and Tom had a joyous relationship. A love that only ever existed in movies and fairytales. The type of love story that gets told for generations and onwards. But alas, all good things must come to an end.

Your breakup was calm, serene and clean. A mutual agreement as if your whole relationship had been a business deal. There were no loose ends or jealous passive aggressive remarks made. Just maturity and respect for one another.

Your pinky still held the promise ring he gave you. A token of appreciation. A reassurance that he'd always be there for you. And he lived up to his word.

Tom walked in and sat across from you, startling you, "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Whatcha writing?"

"Need a final song for the album. Sorry for showing up unannounced. I just get better inspiration here, with all the memories, you know?" you timidly looked back down at the guitar.

Tom nodded, "No need to apologize. We gave you a spare key for a reason."

You couldn't stop yourself from spilling the words from your lips, "That was when we were together."

You could hear the awkward silence start to fill the room before he spoke again, "Still our best friend, Y/L/N."

The pain that crossed your features was instant. Being addressed by your last name felt like a stab to the gut. Especially by Tom.

You nodded before playing again, "Can I help you write it?" Tom asked as he sat next to you.

"Dancer, gymnast, actor and now songwriter. How many hidden talents have you got, Holland?" you teased making him laugh.

He shrugged with a smile, "It's kind of like writing a poem, right?"

You pondered on his analogy before slowly nodding, "Yeah, it kind of is. Give it a go."

You began playing the melody and he listened intently for a few moments before singing, "I love seeing you happy. I miss seeing that smile. It's been such a long time. A– Nope. Nope. Nuh-uh. I can't do it." he shook his head aggressively with a loud laugh as you stopped playing.

"No!" you quickly protested, "That was amazing! Don't leave me hanging, c'mon." you nudged him with your shoulder before strumming again.

"Alright, alright." he ran his hands down his face, "And although I don't have you, I know now that I need to?" he paused and gave you a skeptical look before you nodded again, "Somehow make you mine. Mmm."

"Oh, okay. He's giving ad-libs and all. Get it." you nodded as he laughed.

You were so engrossed on Tom actually writing a song with you that you didn't focus on the lyrics he was singing.

"And I won't lie, it's hard seeing you with him 'cause I know he can't hold you like I can." his mood seemed to drop by a thousand as the words left his lips.

"When can we meet this boyfriend of yours?" Harrison flicked your forehead from across the booth.

You, Harrison, Tom and Tuwaine were all sat in the local pub. Pints of beer in front of each of you as loud music and chatting filled your ears.

You shrugged, "He's picking me up, so possibly tonight."

Tuwaine's eyes lit up, "Fina-fucking-lly. I swear you've kept him hidden for years."

"We've only been together for three months, T." you laughed lightly with the group of boys.

And they met him. It wasn't the smoothest of introductions, but an introduction nonetheless.

"Boys, this is Kai. Kai this is Tom, Harrison and Tuwaine." you gestured to the parties as they all shook hands and gave polite greetings.

"So," Harrison started, "What do you do for a living, Kai?"

Kai cleared his throat, "I'm a Senior Resident at Kingston Hospital. Working towards being Head of Pediatrics."

Tuwaine and Harrison both nodded, impressed by his profession. Tom's face remained expressionless as he stared at Kai with cold eyes.

"Do you have any siblings, Kai? Any psycho ex-girlfriends? Any wacky cousins?" Tuwaine joked making everyone laugh. "'Cause Y/N has a lot of wacky cousins."

"We could be in love once more,"

"Hey!" you gasped with a laugh.

Kai pulled you closer to him as he laughed, "No, no wacky cousins or psycho exes, but I do have an older sister and a younger brother."

This game of ask and answer continued on for a few more minutes. Tom didn't say a word, just sipped his beer and burned holes into Kai with his eyes. If looks could kill, Kai would be six feet under.

Kai was a sweetheart, but you two ended ages ago. His work got too much for him and your job had you touring and travelling every second.

You picked up after him with the chorus before diving into your own verse, "I remember that love song. I sang every word wrong, but you didn't mind, no, no."

"I love the things you do. It's how you do the things you love. Well it's not a love song, not a love song. I love the way you get me, but correct me if I'm wrong. This is not a love song, not a love song!" Tom belted the 'Austin & Ally' song from the top of his lungs.

"Your turn!" he pointed the pretend mic in your direction.

You laughed, not knowing any of the lyrics, but still wanting to participate, "I love that you not a licket! And you own a watch and chicken! We got a car!" you sang with full confidence, making Tom burst with laughter.

"Yes! Sing it, darling!" he cheered you on, "Absolutely butchering the lyrics, but sing it!"

"Being stuck inside a car. If it's not a doe, don't kiss it! I can't hear a missing, when there's a shoe inside the ceiling! If you really need to fart, you can lunch on a pig farm! Love song! Love song!" you couldn't even hear the song in the background, your voice overpowering it.

Tom was hunched over from laughing before he came back up and planted a soft kiss on your lips, "You are one hundred percent ridiculous and I love it."

You brought yourself back to reality and sang again, "And I'll admit that I miss you, but only if you do. 'Cause you know that I'm shy. And I can't lie, it's hard seeing you with her. 'Cause I know she can't love you like I can."

Tom's eyes met yours as the words fell from your gentle lips. His mouth was slightly agape as you continued to strum.

"You are absolute rubbish. Imagine coming in eighth. Embarassing." you laughed as you crushed Harrison in a game of Mario Kart.

He shoved you with his shoulder, "You're such a try ha—"

"—It's always the same, Tom! How can I trust you? You follow gorgeous models on Instagram and expect me to trust you?" Nadia's voice cut Harrison's words off.

You looked at him with wide eyes, his expression matching yours.

"Those women that I follow have been my friends for ages. Who I follow on a stupid app shouldn't effect how much you trust me."

You paused the game, cutting off the theme song, "How long have they been fighting like this?"

Harrison sighed, a long groan following, "A few weeks. I think it started when she saw that he liked your Instagram picture?"

You stammered, "M-my post? She got mad about my post?"

Harrison nodded before opening his mouth to speak, but Nadia cut him off again, "And she practically lives here! How do you think it makes me feel seeing my boyfriend play house with a superstar?!"

"Aw, a superstar? I'm flattered." you joked making Harrison stifle a laugh.

"I've been friends with Y/N since we were in nappies!"

"I can't be with you if you're going to be friends with her."

Your laughter abruptly died at her words. Harrison stiffened beside you.

"Y-you can't be serious. You can't make me choose between you and her."

"Why? Because you're gonna choose her?" you could hear her voice crack.

"I-" Tom couldn't make out a sentence for a few moments, "Yeah. I'm gonna choose her."

Your heart fell from it's place, stopping at your feet. Harrison brought a hand to his mouth, "H-he chose you. He chose you!" he whisper shouted before you shushed him.

"Of course. I don't know why I expected anything different. I think I'll be going now." Nadia's footsteps approached the living room.

You and Harrison scrambled to look as if you weren't eavesdropping on their argument/breakup.

Tom followed close behind her, "I'm sorry. I really am."

She nodded, hand on the doorknob, "I know. Goodbye." she stepped out of the house, slamming the front door shut in the process.

Tom let out a breath of relief before turning to you and Harrison who were staring at the Mario Kart home screen with the infamous tune playing.

"You guys are terrible actors."

"'Till then I won't give my love away,"

"I'm forever only yours." the both of you finished the song in unison.

There was a moment of silence before you reached over and ended the voice recording.

"T-that was really good. You can change what I wrote, I know it isn't as good as anything you would've written, but I tried. And it was actually pretty fun and I never knew how difficult songwriting was un—"

"—Kiss me." you cut Tom's rambling off.

His eyes grew wide, "W-wha—"

"—Kiss me, Holland."

He swallowed, a small smile stretching on his lips, "Thank God."

And with that, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Interlocking like missing puzzle pieces. Moving in sync like waves in the ocean. Soft and sweet, but filled with passion. You could feel his smile against your lips causing you to grin.

His hand came up to pull your face closer into his. Caressing your jaw, fingertips playing with the hairs on the back of your neck. His other hand holding your hip in a tight grip. Pressing the pads of his digits into your flesh, scared that you might slip through his fingers again.

One of your hands was pressed flat against his chest. Steadying yourself, the heat of the kiss threatening to throw you off of your axis. Your other hand tangled itself into Tom's curls. Pulling and tugging lightly causing small groans to fall from Tom's lips. Your fingernails scratching his scalp. Pulling him impossibly closer to you.

"I want my ten pounds." Harrison's voice snapped you and Tom out of your make out session.

Him and Tuwaine stood in the doorway, shit eating grins on their faces.

Tuwaine laughed before placing a ten pound note in Harrison's palm, "You guys couldn't have waited until next month to get back together?"

"You two were betting on us?" Tom laughed at his mates who nodded.

You shook your head with a smile, "Absolute idiots, all of you."

Harrison let out a happy sigh and pocketed the money, "Today was a good day. Had a sick ass shoot. Got ten pounds. And my best friends are finally together again." he waltzed into the kitchen with Tuwaine, leaving you and Tom alone again.

Tom's shy expression met your gleeful one before he spoke, "Someday came a lot sooner than expected, huh?" he chuckled.

You nodded with a laugh, "It certainly did and I am not complaining."

He sent you a wide grin before cupping your face and connecting your lips to his again.

"Darling, I'm forever only yours."

[miceenscene]

'tis the damn season

frankie/reader | childhood friends to lovers | pre-canon

wc: 1.8k/2.5k

summary: At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

warnings: none

an: don't let anyone tell you that second person doesn't work from another character's perspective, least of all yourself while editing

Masterpost | ao3

Chapter 2: Who am I Related to?

December 8, 2012 18:57

Hudson’s was a shitty bar just up highway 210 outside of Fort Bragg, the nearest watering hole to the base as the crow flies.

As a result, it served pretty damn near exclusively military personnel. When it changed ownership about four years back, the new management decided to reflect that and so the place looked like the Fourth of July and Top Gun had thrown up on it. Never mind that Fort Bragg was an Army base. Still, they had cheap booze and greasy food that was far better than the commissary, so it was always busy.

Pope had texted the usual suspects a few hours ago that he was heading to Hudson’s that evening, making Frankie immediately ditch his plans of drinking alone for drinking with Pope and whoever else showed up. Most likely just Benny and Ironhead now that Redfly had semi-retired down to Florida. It was a short drive to the bar from the dorms on base, but it was enough to make Frankie groan and press hands to his lower back as he got out of his car and made his way inside.

Pope was sitting at the bar and didn’t look up from texting on his phone as Frankie gingerly eased into the stool next to him.

“Hey, Fish,” Pope said, rereading the email.

“Hey.” At the bartender’s attention, Frankie pointed to Pope’s beer before daring a slight back stretch.

Pope sent his email and then looked over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just finished PT.”

He chuckled once. “Back still fucked?”

“More tired than fucked anymore,” Frankie managed, shaking his head and wincing. The bartender delivered his beer, and Frankie took a swig. “When did we get old?”

“¿De qué estás hablando ‘nosotros’, viejo?”

Frankie jabbed an elbow and grinned slightly down at his next swig. “Culero.”

“Hey, before everyone gets here–” Pope looked at him, an oddly serious expression on his face for their usual bar. “I found out today you haven’t re-enlisted yet.”

Frankie immediately dropped his gaze to the suddenly very interesting glass in his hand. “Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m trying to pull strings to get Benny into our unit full-time. I think he’d fit well with the team. Then Simmons tells me you haven’t signed your new papers yet. So what’s up?”

Frankie glanced over to see Pope still focused on him. “Nothing, nothing. I… I’m still thinking about it.”

He chuckled. “What’s there to think about?”

“We all want out someday, right? If we’re lucky enough to choose when we leave.”

“Yeah, but there’s thinking and thinking.” Pope smacked his shoulder. “What – are you gonna become a real estate agent like Redfly?”

No. Definitely not. Even just the idea of shilling condos was enough to make Frankie’s eyes glaze over. But still–

“Real estate agents make more money than we do.”

Pope made a considering face for a moment then brushed it off. “Yeah, but you’d miss it. You’re like me. We like the rush.”

Frankie nodded slightly. This is why he was still just thinking about it. It wasn’t a small thing to walk away from fourteen years with the Army. Especially since everyone knew the retirement benefits were absolute shit until you hit twenty. But he could already tell, he didn’t have another six years in him. He wasn’t even sure he had another deployment.

“You know the deadline’s New Year’s, right?” Pope said, cutting through his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know. I have some leave I have to take before the year’s out anyway.”

Pope nodded. “Good. Clear your head, get some perspective. See how fucking boring civvy life is, and then come back Jan 2 and join my team.”

Frankie smiled wryly; Pope always could make anything sound easy. “Something like that.”

“You have holiday plans then?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Frankie sucked in breath. “I guess I’ll go back to my parents’. My mom’s been wanting me to visit for a while now.”

“How long’s it been?”

“I saw them in DC last summer, but I haven’t been back home… since I joined Delta.”

“Remind me where they’re at.”

“Up north. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Still in the same house I grew up in.” He could picture the wreath on the door, the twinkling lights his dad always strung across the front fence every December. A matching set used to be hung on the fence exactly opposite across the street. Who lived there now, he wondered. Would they put the tree in the front window too?

“Soldier coming home for Christmas. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Fuck you,” Frankie replied as the others finally arrived.

--

Frankie got his answer as he ducked out the front door of his parent’s house about a week later. His breath immediately fogged as he sucked in a few calming breaths of night air, the pressure in his head slowly levelling. Out in the still darkness, the noise level coming from the living room was finally manageable. Inside, with all of his cousins and his aunts and uncles and the music and everyone talking over each other and the heater set far too high for the number of people inside– he… he just needed a break.

Seven hours was a decent stint for his first day. He’d be around longer tomorrow. Wading in. That was the key. Because he was now the kind of person that had to treat time with his family like running a marathon. Apparently.

He walked down to the twinkling front fence, making a mental note to shovel the front walk tomorrow, and stopped. The house across the street – your house, as it would forever be in his mind – was completely dark. A small sign posted in the front yard announced some sort of home refurbishment company was going to be arriving soon. No doubt they would come in, strip away wallpaper and old tile and heart to paint it all beige and granite for the quick resell.

He hadn’t had the heart to ask his mother yet how long the house hadn’t belonged to your family. No need for another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he’d missed. He had more than enough already.

The front door opened behind him, casting a temporary warm glow across the dark snow, and his dad stepped out, pipe in hand. He meandered down the front steps to join Frankie at the gate, puffing a few times before speaking.

He shook his head. “It’d break his heart to see it so empty, but I understand why she sold,” he said, looking at the forlorn house with him.

“How long ago?” Frankie asked.

“Few months. Not too long after the funeral.” Dad looked his way for a moment. “I’ll give it ten minutes before I tell your mother you left.”

“I… thanks,” he replied weakly.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.”

Dad nodded slowly, leaving just the pipe smoke wafting between them for a minute. “Take it slow, no need to rush.”

“Thanks.” He stepped through the gate, fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Francisco,” he said, making Frankie stop and look at him. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Frankie just nodded and went to his car. Even though he couldn’t bear another minute in the noisy press of his loved ones, the idea of going back to his lonely hotel room was truly abysmal. So after some finagling with the ignition, he started the engine and headed to the one bar he’d ever been to in his hometown.

--

There were Christmas lights in the window and a dancing Santa on the bar as Frankie walked in. Some sort of forcibly cheery holiday classic played over the speakers tucked between quirky memorabilia that hung over every square inch of wall space. And even though public smoking had been outlawed by the state well over a decade ago, cigarette stench had sunk into the very foundation of the place.

It was nothing like Frankie remembered. But it would do.

Eyes automatically sweeping across the moderately busy room for a Thursday night, he headed for a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender came by. It was just one step up from swill, but comfortably numbing in its mediocrity. He looked across the room again, checking for familiar faces this time and finding none. No surprise there. A decade was a long time, and really he hadn’t been around too much for the years before that too.

There were couples on dates here, friend groups, some sort of girls’ night happening in the corner, a few loners like him hovering at the bar. Most everyone was smiling, talking, laughing so hard their whole bodies shook. A whole world of Normal. And Frankie was a tourist.

Pope was right. He couldn’t go back to this. He couldn’t make it through one whole day with blood relatives anymore. What was he thinking? That he could just settle into a normal life like the last decade of his work was nothing? Get a 9-to-5 and a mortgage and a girl – not that he’d ever had too much luck in that department. Especially when there was one girl that eclipsed all others, and he didn’t even know her phone number any more.

The door opened, making the Santa on the bar dance, and every thought in Frankie’s head immediately stopped. His eyes drew wide as he stared, jaw barely restrained from slapping against his chest. Was it really – course it was, there wasn’t anyone else it could be. A whole century could pass, and he’d still know that face.

It was you.

Live, in the flesh you. Cheeks pinked from the wind, haloed by the street lights outside, wrapped in a truly astonishing number of woolen layers. Not a half-remembered fantasy, but Real and breathing and even more beautiful than his memory had claimed.

He watched you shake a few flurries out of your hair and stomp the excess snow off your boots, shutting the door behind you as you waved to the bartender. Your gaze swung across the bar, completely skimming past him, and landed on the girls’ night in the corner. You smiled. He stared.

You began to head over to the people you were obviously here to meet. On nothing but pure instinct, he immediately got out of his stool and followed you. Falling into step behind you, he stretched a hand forward to hook a few fingers inside your elbow.

You looked back at him, and for a heart-breaking breath there was no recognition in your eyes.

Till he gave you a half-smile and said, “Hey Bo.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open. “Frankie?” you asked.

He nodded.

Your astonishment ballooned so wide it froze your whole face solid for a moment. Then you laughed, out of far more shock than amusement, and gave him a smile all his own. “Oh my god!! You’re here!”

You immediately wrapped him in a hug. And though it took him a moment to return it, for the first time in ten whole years, he was home.

Chapter 3: Not my Homeland Anymore

taglist: @kelenloth ; @darnitdraco ; @gracie7209 ; @616wilsons ; @icanbeyourjedi ; @astroboots ;

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-15: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“Come on then, Miss Direction Blind. I'll be the one to give you the directions now.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

After a week of working at Warson, I’d technically adapted to how things went about here. Zheng Lin had also arranged my first solo gig.

Zheng Lin: The design hub has a mentor system set in place.

Zheng Lin: So, all Assistants and Junior Designers will have a mentor assigned to them.

Zheng Lin: Of course, it is not up to you to choose, but your future mentor.

Zheng Lin: Every Senior Designer, including Director Qi, will participate in this program as a mentor.

MC: Director Qi too?

Zheng Lin: Correct. The selection criteria will be the results of your first independent work.

Zheng Lin: It might be solo work, but you can always approach me if you run into something you don't understand.

Zheng Lin: And also, I'll get Brother Mao to help you out, considering how you've only just arrived here and have yet to familiarize yourself with this place.

Zheng Lin: Of course, his aid doesn't include helping you out with your design.

Zheng Lin: In any case, just make sure to do this job well because the results of this will determine who your future mentor will be. Understand?

I understood what she was getting at. Mentors would greatly influence and affect the growth of a rookie. One will be able to learn much more when paired with an experienced mentor who shares the same aesthetic sense.

Although the deadline is still a long time from now, I want to become the best mentee choice to ever face Sariel.

The job this time was to create a dress for Lin Yao, the new up and coming actress, for her award ceremony.

❖☆———————————★❖

She was a child actress who'd recently risen to fame when the popularity of the young idol teen drama she starred in half a year ago exploded. Due to her cold countenance, she was dubbed by the media as the "Nation's Fairy Nymph" 

This time, the local crime movie she'd starred as the lead for had received a double harvest at the word-of-mouth box office. It has also been nominated as one of the most popular movies and the movie with the best female lead among many others.

This movie was about a talented dancing genius who secretly plotted the murder of her abusive stepmother for many, many years. This caused the creation of a second personality within her; the murder happened then. At the end of the film, she danced in the pure white snow beside the dead body of her stepmother. Something that she'd only ever dreamt about. And there, etched upon her face, was the first smile of her life.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Her performance is way too good! I can't even tell that it's an act...

After watching some of her award-winning works interviews, I finally managed to get some semblance of understanding about Lin Yao.

She was someone of few words, a polite and obedient kid who never once had a single bad article to her name. She was forever smiling in front of the cameras. She was hardworking and responsible when it came to her work, and has had a smooth journey ever since her debut. It was the very epitome of what a perfect life was; one that everybody admired.

MC: A traditional fairy dress would be too conservative. Although that'd be very in line with her image, it'll merely be the same thing all over again. That wouldn't make her stand out on the red carpet.

MC: I can't help but feel like she's not all as inwardly peaceful as she appears on the outside. Perhaps she's fiercer or more sensitive deep down...

I didn't know how I could express this mismatch in her persona.

Perhaps it was those eyes of hatred of hers that shot daggers in the movie, or maybe that one sliver of vulnerability that she let slip in her interviews every once in a while. Those factors made it hard for me to decide just what kind of style I should go with her dress.

MC: And I also feel like digging deeper to uncover the other more charming side of her that no one knows...

The genius young maiden of the nation. A turbulent era of change. Self-redemption and self-destruction. All of these factors were only impactful when combined together with the era it was set in. It was only then, that everything felt fated to be.

MC: What if I added these elements to the dress?

I closed my eyes and imagined it in my head. A black feather dress inspired by the nation slowly formed in my mind's eye.

MC: I know!

Brother Mao: Heavens! You gave me a scare right there!

That was when I realized that I'd quite literally leapt out of my seat in my excitement. I gave an embarrassed laugh.

MC: Brother Mao, I'm going to go out and do some fieldwork to get some inspiration!

❖☆———————————★❖

If I were to find things related to the nation, then the museum would be the most appropriate choice.

Back when I was little, I'd always be left in the care of my mother's ex-partner when neither she nor my grandmother had the time to take care of me. He was responsible for managing this museum that could be called my second home of sorts.

MC: But, why does it look different from how I remember…?

The place had been renovated during the long period of time I hadn't been to it. All the exhibition halls had changed locations.

I followed the signs towards the hall where all the local things were displayed, only for my attention to be caught by a familiar figure.

Dressed entirely in black, said person had his arm behind his back as he stood motionless in front of the collections before him.

His straight posture made him look like a tall, yet silent, statue from afar. Under the lights of the spotlight, a faint silvery-white halo surrounded him. I could even see the small particles of dust floating in the air amidst the light. It made him look stand-offish and sharp.

I couldn't stop myself from raising my camera and snapping a shot. 

Click! 

The man noticed; immediately whipping his head around.

MC: ...Osborn!?

Surprised, I retreated a step; only to realize that my hands were now empty. Osborn had snatched my camera from me.

Osborn: Watcha hiding?

He cocked his head to look at the camera, the corners of his mouth upturning into an arc.

Osborn: You're sneakily taking shots of me? Let's see how they turned out.

MC: Return it back to me first!

Osborn purposely lifted the camera higher out of my reach.

Osborn: Why are you so frantic? It's not like I mind or anything.

MC: I still have things to do! Hurry and give it back already!

Osborn: What did you come here for?

MC: Photos. I came here looking for inspiration.

Osborn nodded, turning and walking away with my camera in hand.

Osborn: Weren't you here for pictures? Come on, let's go.

Does he want to accompany me?

I hurriedly chased after him and held out the guidebook for him to take. However, he'd only waved his hand in dismissal and signalled for me to follow behind him.

He led me around the museum as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. All I had to do was to name the exhibit and he'd be able to find it immediately.

His sense of direction is incredible. What is he? A human-sized GPS?

MC: Do you come here often, Osborn?

Osborn: It's my first time here.

MC: …..

Osborn let out two short laughs as he crooked his head and contemplated me.

Osborn: And how many times have you been here?

MC: I've come here a couple of times in the past, I guess. I'm not very familiar with this place. Ahem...

??: (Y/n)! Is it really you? You've come back to the country?

The curator uncle that I'd not seen in a long time suddenly comes round from a corner. He looked astonished to see me here.

Mr. Curator: You've grown into a splendid young woman in the years I've not seen you. It's great to see you back! Come by my place for dinner when you're free!

Mr. Curator: Oh, yes. Should I get you a guide? I remember that you got lost here once.

MC: No need! My friend here has a superb sense of direction!

My face heated up as I hurriedly pointed to Osborn. He didn't say anything more, only laughing as he nodded to Osborn before leaving.

Brilliant. I originally intended to keep the fact that I was directionally challenged under wraps when around Osborn, but now… He's gonna make fun of me again.

MC: Right, but I'm still pretty good at reading maps…

In the end, Osborn couldn't hold back his laughter and ended up laughing till his shoulders were shaking. He took hold of my arm in one swift motion and started walking forward.

Osborn: Come on then, Miss Direction Blind.

Osborn: I'll be the one to give you the directions now.

Somehow, I vaguely felt my heart skip a beat at that.

MC: I want to go to the national exhibit…

❖☆———————————★❖

The national exhibit had now been renovated and refurbished retro-style. All the new collections exhibited here now turned out to be clothing and accessories. 

Looks like I made the right choice in coming here.

Osborn: Want do you wanna snap?

MC: That one. The brown layered cheongsam patterned through burn-out printing.

MC: The blueish-grey female damask lined jacket!

MC: And that short-sleeved georgette velvet cheongsam that's also patterned through burn-out printing!

I'd virtually snapped a picture of every outfit on display here. The tentative image I originally had in mind seemed to become clearer now.

MC: Okay, that's all.

Osborn kept the camera and glanced at the time.

Osborn: Let's go then.

❖☆———————————★❖

Dusk had already fallen by the time we walked out of the museum. The smell of sundown envelopes us in its serenity, as the breeze carries the fragrance of hyacinths.

Osborn walks up to a black motorcycle and leans on its back seat.

MC: Thank you for today. I didn’t cause you any trouble by hogging you and making you take pictures for me, did I?

Osborn: Sure you did.

MC: …Ah. What are you going to do about it?

Osborn: Then, how about you do a little something to repay me? The bracelet I was looking at earlier; have you seen anything like it before?

The image of Osborn staring seriously at the white-coloured jade cong earlier flashed through my mind.

MC: That’s not a bracelet. It’s a jade cong. They’re used as ritual artefacts in ancient witchcraft or religious sacrifices.

MC: The one you saw earlier was a typical one belonging to the Liangzhu Culture. It’s speculated that it’s used to communicate with gods or the souls trapped in this realm.

Osborn: You know quite a lot.

MC: I used to come here a lot as a kid, and I’d just tail the big sister, the guide, back then when I had nothing better to do. That’s why I remember so many things.

Osborn: Hu? You don't look like an expert at all.

MC: I’m still learning, but they do say that the better your memory, the smoother the sail of your learning curve.

Osborn: Let’s see… Wasn’t there an expert earlier who couldn’t even tell left from right?

MC: I was born with a poor sense of direction! I told you that my map reading skills were still passable!

Osborn: Okay, okay. What’s with the glare? I’m only poking fun at you.

Osborn: My sense of direction is brilliant, so just follow me next time.

MC: ……

MC: Right, but that jade cong earlier was a little odd.

Osborn: Man, the way you change topics needs a little working on.

MC: Do you want to listen, or not?

Osborn: Spill.

MC: I’ve never seen a jade cong from the Liangzhu Culture with the double-headed snake motif carved onto it before.

MC: There exists a sacred double-headed snake motif in Sumerian Culture. It represents Ningishzida, the Lord of the Good Woods.

MC: And in the mythology Ningishzida hails from, the gods used clay to create humans and make the beginnings of the first civilization.

MC: Just like the Fuxi Nuwa from our ancient mythology.

MC: Funny thing is that, coincidentally, the Sumernarian two-headed snake is also very similar to the Fuxi Nuwa.

Osborn unknowingly furrows his brow whilst muttering about something under his breath. However, he quickly returns to his usual playful self.

Osborn: Okay. I've got it.

MC: Why are you interested in something like this?

MC: I remember that the bracelet you showed me up on the roof that day had the same motif.

Osborn: Ever heard of this saying?

Osborn made a come hither motion, signalling for me to get closer to him.

Osborn: The more secrets you know, the more you'll be...

He did a cutthroat gesture whilst smirking at me.

MC: Do I look like I care?

Osborn: It has something to do with someone I'm looking for. I'll tell you next time if I get the chance.

MC: Hmm…

Osborn: But, no telling anyone about what happened today.

MC: Okay. Now gimme the camera.

Osborn: I helped you and yet not even a single "thank you" from you?

Osborn leaned further backwards, purposefully dodging my hand that went straight for the camera, a devilish look on his face.

MC: Thank you!

Osborn: Now stick your hand out.

A small lemon candy was placed into my outstretched palm alongside the camera.

Osborn: Where are you headed? I'll send you.

He flipped himself onto his bike, surveying the congested road up ahead.

MC: I can't possibly bother you like that...

I waved my hand and turned his offer down out of habit, yet inwardly, I was silently pondering about just how I was to get onto that tall bike of his.

However, just as I was about to step onto it and swing myself onto the seat, the engine gave a resounding roar as said motorbike speeded away from me.

Only a single line hung in the air in his wake: "Bye!"

MC: Hey! I was just being nice! It wouldn't hurt to have asked me again...

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-13) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-18)

[jenomark]

Part 3

➔Pairing: Camboy!Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut ➔Warnings: Oral (M), Penetration (F), little bit of angst  ➔Word count: 4,080

➔Summary: You’ve been out of the dating game for awhile, but your best friend thinks a push in the right direction is all you need. She sets you up for the cam boy experience, complete with the cute boy and a discovery.

>>Part 1<< 

>>Part 2<<

  One time. Two times. Three times. Whore. Five times. Six times. Seven times more. 

  You couldn’t stop coming and going, using Jeno’s apartment like a revolving door. Every night for weeks, you would show up at his place, turn the camera on, and fuck him for the regulars. You were wrong in thinking having sex again would be like riding a bike. Having sex with Jeno was like fucking on a speeding bullet train, no slowing down, and only getting off when it was time. And time was everything. 

  Being on camera never felt comfortable until Jeno showed up and shot you with a different lens. He made you feel pretty and wanted, tangible and whole. You became addicted to the way he looked at your body, and the way he touched you. Even after the cameras stopped rolling, Jeno would trace his fingertips up your spine and ask for another round, his dark eyes tempting and dangerous.

 Going to work with hickeys on your neck was risky. Wearing silk scarves in the sweltering heat made you look too obvious, and make-up never did the trick. If you did manage to hide them, your just-fucked glow gave it all away. You wore Jeno everywhere you went, like a ring, your two bodies married together. If it wasn’t so sinful, you’d be picture perfect. 

   Your thoughts were all about him. Hands waved in your face, wondering what planet your mind was on. In the midst of stacks of paperwork and deadlines, you thought about Jeno’s stubble itching your thighs. You thought about how you had let him in every hole you had, and sometimes, you let him into the other parts of yourself you liked to keep hidden.

  You smiled. You remembered when you sat with him on his bed, you on your knees, and the requested pigtails hanging from the side of your head. Jeno  couldn’t stop laughing, the bed shaking from his delight. You were shown many sides of him, but the weird happiness he clung to always mesmerized you.

“What?” you asked. “Do I look stupid?”

  You looked over at the camera. The viewers came and went all of the time, more than you had ever fathomed. Doubled, sometimes tripled, the money was rolling in. Everyone loved the two of you together. If you explored new territories, such as role play or BDSM, the numbers shot up faster than Jeno’s cum. It had gotten so suffocating reading all of the chats that Jeno forbid you from reading any of them. He was used to the attention, but you found it anxiety-inducing.

Jeno took your face so that you would focus only on him. “No, never.”

“Ugly?” you asked.

“You?” he asked. “Ugly? Not a thing about you is ugly.”

“Then why do you always laugh at me?” you asked.

  When you tilted your head to the side, your pigtail hitting your shoulder, Jeno’s smile slowly faded from his face. He searched your eyes before tugging on the end of your hair. His gesture was meant to be the end of the conversation. You had certain safe words and motions in place to communicate with each other. If Jeno tugged on your hair, it meant a change in conversation. Sometimes, it served as a question asked silently, “Do you want to keep going?” or “Are you okay?” He was always asking what you needed, but hardly what you wanted.

“I want to play,” you said. “How about you feed me things, and I will guess what they are.”

  Playing a role was easier than admitting your real attraction to Jeno. When you weren’t busy fucking all over his apartment, you hung out as friends. Late night pizza meant staying up, drinking beer, and watching bad movies. He came over unannounced when he hadn’t heard from you in a day, and you caught yourself thinking about the absence of his cock inside of you more than was considered casual.

“I love to play.” Jeno said.

  He disappeared into his kitchen. Impromptu sexcapades, as you liked to call them, were fun. Usually, Jeno led the night, but you were feeling in rare form. You remained sitting on your knees, your pretty dress fanned out around you. You felt girly and cute, and when you pouted, it was the easiest way to hide the way you were truly feeling. Jeno came back with whipped cream and other desserts, his strong arms carrying the pile. You closed your eyes and flopped your belly across his bed, the end of the dress coming above your ass cheeks. Jeno dumped the stuff on the bed, reached over and smacked your ass.

“Hey!” you said. “If it can’t go in my mouth, I don’t want it.”

  You enjoyed having real, intimate sex with Jeno the most. Every once in a while, you both would find yourself back to it, both of you in normal clothes acting like yourselves. You loved being the girl in the upstairs apartment, loved getting to chill out and take him for a ride. You loved it too much. You wanted to slow it all down, but you liked the sex too much. You could forgive the attachment if you pretended it wasn’t there.

“Is that so?” Jeno asked.

  He went over to his computer and typed something into the chat box. He was always communicating with his fans. A lot of them felt so far removed from you after some time that it almost didn’t feel like they existed beyond the camera and the lights. You winced at the sudden jealousy you felt, picked up the whipped cream can and brought the nozzle straight into your mouth. The sound of the cream pouring from the can made Jeno turn back to you. You sucked on the tip seductively and pushed the cream out of your mouth. You eyed him up, as if to say, “What are you going to do about it?” and watched defiantly as Jeno walked towards you, ripped the can from your hand, and brought your chin into his hands.

  The stare. He gave it to you a lot. It was a moment just for the two of you to balance each other out. You trusted him, and he trusted you. After deciding that you wanted to continue your on-camera relationship and work together, you told him to do what he wanted, and that you were his.

  Jeno let go of your chin, and you laid on your back with your mouth wide open. You closed your eyes and waited for him to let you have a taste.

“Guess what this is,” he said. He took a second to situate himself before he spoke again, “No cheating. Let me see your tongue. That’s my girl. What is it? Can you guess?”

  Jeno’s thumb was flat against your tongue. You could taste the chocolate sauce instantly, the grittiness coating your teeth. You played dumb, moaning against his thumb and sucking down on it. When you had sucked his thumb clean, he wiped your spit against your chest. 

“Can I have more?” you asked. “ I really like it.”

  You could feel him playing it up for the camera. Jeno opened your mouth a little wider and poured sauce straight down your throat. He followed it with a kiss and his own tongue going in to savor the chocolate. 

“What is it?” he asked, pulling away.

“Chocolate,” you said. “Your favorite.”

  You were touching yourself. It was hard not to. With your eyes closed, you imagined how he looked hovering over you. His appeal was completely understandable in your eyes. Jeno was sexy beyond belief, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Next one,” Jeno said, his voice a low rumble. “ This one is sticky.”

  You smiled, hoping it was his cum, but knowing it was sweet honey. The coolness of the honey missed your mouth and went straight onto your lips, dribbling down your chin. Jeno helped clean you up using his mouth, making out with you while you laid upside down. He grabbed a hold of your pigtails and tugged, a signal so second nature to you.

“Honey.” you said.

“Yes, baby?” Jeno joked.

  You resisted the urge to laugh. You knew the chat was going wild- all those girls from before falling in love with him over and over again. You breathed deeply and folded your hands against your stomach. You waited with your lips parted slightly and your eyes closed. When you felt the tip of his soft cock touch your lips, you brought him into your mouth, inching yourself upwards to get more of him.

“Do you like the taste of this?” Jeno asked. “Can you guess what it is? I think it might be your favorite.”

  What the two of you did sometimes was comical. You could hear the real Jeno trying to contain himself. The moment you grabbed his cock and started giving him the best blowjob of his life, he shut up entirely. The suction of your lips on his length as he hardened was all the answer he needed. 

  Times like that happened often. The more you got into the cam life, the more it got into every crevice of your actual life. On the ride to work, you thought of new scenarios to do with Jeno that would please the crowd. Since you both thought you had something special together, you wanted to make the most of it. After all, he was splitting half of his money with you, and the extra cash began to help your personal life. It was also fun and made you feel free, which was something you never counted on happening. The stick up your ass was momentarily loosened, and you were thankful. 

”I have something to tell you.” you said.

  Your best friend walked around your apartment, looking around and squinting her eyes. She hadn’t stepped foot in your life in weeks, except for the rare lunch outing. It’s not that you were avoiding her entirely, just choosing to forget to reply to her text messages. You had been too scared to spill the beans about anything to do with Jeno and your illicit porn career. You followed her around and hoped she wouldn’t be able to guess what you’d been doing since she last saw you in your apartment.

“It smells different in here,” she said, sniffing the air. “What is that smell?”

“Aromatherapy candle?” you offered. 

  You were too nervous, too fidgety. She stopped looking around and looked you square in the eyes. As she examined your body for any signs of something out of place, you prayed she wouldn’t notice the new clothes you had gotten yourself, or that little bit of weight you had lost from all that hot sex you’d been having. 

“So,” she said. “What do you have to tell me?” 

  Your lips stuck together because your mouth was so dry. You cleared your throat and looked around at your plants. You had bought more since you started to web-cam with Jeno, not because you were lonely, but because he had bought them for you. You were aware of how abnormal your relationship with him was, and you weren’t sure your best friend had the right mindset to accept the truth. Yet, you couldn’t keep the secrets any longer. Your biggest fear in life since you started fucking on camera was someone you know in real life accidentally finding you getting your ass drilled by some random man on the internet. 

“You’re doing it again,” she said, waving her hand. “You’re disappearing. What is going on with you, lately? You’re so secretive. Have you met someone? Is that it?” 

“Kind of?” you said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Kind of? Did you meet someone or not? I don’t think there is ever a time when you can only kind of meet someone. Seriously, just tell me. You have nothing to be ashamed about.”

  Immediately, your mind filled with thoughts of Jeno. When you were drunk one night, you showed up to his place, your forehead knocking on his door for you. When he opened it, Jeno was completely sober and sleepy.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s late.”

“I want to fuck.” you said.

  You pushed the door open and nearly toppled into his arms. Jeno took your arm to straighten you out. When you made eye contact with him, he made it clear that he would not fuck you while you weren’t able to give consent. You had whined and pouted, and passed out on his couch while he played with your hair. When you woke up, he was still sleeping, and you left without ever bringing it up again. Shame slept with you often. 

“Just tell me,” your best friend pleaded. “Is it that bad?” 

You nodded. “I think so.” 

She straightened up, her face becoming somber. “Are you back with your ex? I don’t know if I can watch you do this all over again-”

“No-” you said. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m seeing someone, someone new. Someone considerably less shitty.”

She smiled, hopeful. “ Really? Is he cute? What’s his name? Where is he from? What does he do for a living? Did you sleep with him?”

“Yes,” you said. “Jeno. I don’t know. He works in the entertainment industry, and yes.” 

“Jeno?” she said, zeroing on his name. “Jeno. Jeno. Why do I know that name?” 

You shrugged, but a light bulb suddenly went off in her head and her eyes widened. You held out your hands to tell her to calm down before she exploded, as you knew she would.

“The cam boy?” she asked. “Jeno, the cam boy? How did that happen? When did that happen? More importantly, why did it happen? How long has this been happening?”

“That is many questions at once,” you said. “I’m stressed out.”

“You!?” she asked. “My best friend has been seeing and sleeping with a cam boy and didn’t tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said. “I don't want you to apologize. I want the details! How is he? Is he nice? Wait, he lives in the city? Never mind that. Is the dick bomb?”

  You sat down and put your head in your hands. She sat down next to you, her face like a kid in a candy store. She took your arms and shook them. She was too excited for someone normally judgmental.

“Don’t be embarrassed, “ she said. “This is nice. This is fun. You’re seeing someone. Are you happy? Are you in love?”

“Stop,” you said. “It’s too much.”

“I know it feels like that, at first,” she said. “Getting back into the dating game is never easy. As soon as you find your footing, it will get easier. You’ll see. Wow. This is so exciting. ”

“Wait-”

“- Have you told your parents? I think you should leave out the sex worker part. I mean, this is 2020 and we don’t shame, but your parents are kind of conservative and I don’t think they would want a son-in-law who gets his cock out on camera-”

“I-”

“-Is he big?” she asked. “No, I shouldn’t ask that. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to ask. I want to be a supportive best friend. I’ve been married for so long I have no idea what the dating scene is like. What do guys even do these days?”

  You felt like you were going to throw up. A knock at the front door saved you from hurling all over your best friend's happy face. You got up to answer it, but before you could, Jeno opened the front door himself and strolled right in. 

“Hello?” he asked. “ I was wondering if you have any butter. I ran out.”

  You threw yourself at the front door, as if your body could cover Jeno before your best friend could see him. It obviously didn’t work. Jeno was left startled, a spatula in his hand, and your best friend stood up to see what the commotion was about.

“Are you trying to hide him from me?” she asked. 

You turned to see your best friend, to see the flash of hurt on her face. “No,” you said. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Butter,” Jeno said. “I just need butter. I could come back later?”

  You took hold of Jeno’s spatula hand and dragged him into your apartment. Upon seeing your best friend, he smiled warmly, wiped his hands on his pants and stuck his hand out. Your best friend smiled slowly, unsure of his intentions, but she shook his hand nonetheless. 

“Hi,” she said. “This is a surprise.”

“You’re telling me,” Jeno said. “I’m Jeno. I don’t know you, but it’s very nice to meet you. I don’t always see people in her apartment.”

“Likewise.” she said, assessing him.

  You stood holding Jeno’s spatula with him, your eyes going from each of them waiting for you to speak.

“Right,” you said. “Jeno, this is my best friend. “

“Oh!” he said. “The one that bought my package.”

  At the word ‘package’ , you could feel yourself mentally falling to the floor into a puddle, your dignity melting along with your hope. 

“Your package,” your best friend said, smirking. “I haven’t heard much about it from her, but I hear it’s very popular.”

  Jeno didn’t miss the harsh tones in her voice. He looked at you, leaned in a little closer and subtly tugged on the ends of your hair. You were meant to start talking, to take his trust and keep it safe, but you couldn’t speak. 

“So,” your best friend started. “You’re dating my best friend. Do you just drop in unannounced all of the time...looking for..butter?”

  Hearing the words coming from her mouth made Jeno suck in a tight breath of air. Luckily for you both, he was quick on his feet. He moved in even closer to you and kissed your cheek. Relaxing into the role, Jeno acted like the perfect boyfriend.

“Well,” Jeno said. “ I live in this building, but I guess she didn’t tell you that yet. My girlfriend is full of secrets..and other things.”

You laughed obnoxiously to cover the sound of your heart hammering in your chest. “Funny. Do you want that butter, Jeno?”

“Me? Jeno asked. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind sticking around for a little while.” 

  Jeno moved past you and started making himself at home. He moved around your apartment like he lived there, tinkering with your things and touching the leaves of your plants to make sure they were well-fed. Your best friend followed him, her eyes checking his body out. At one point, she turned to you and gave a thumbs up when she saw the tightness of his t-shirt highlighting his muscles. Jeno opened your fridge and looked for the butter.

“It must be weird dating someone in your building,” she said. “Funny how that happens.”

“You have no idea,” Jeno said, throwing the butter into the air and catching it. “I don’t think my neighbors or her neighbors get much sleep.” 

“Jeno.” you said through gritted teeth. 

  Your best friend loved him. You could tell by the way she smiled whenever he joked, by the way her eyes were following him like a cat with its eyes on a mouse. She loved games. She looked at you and smiled until it made you feel bad. You wanted to tell her the whole truth, but for the first time in forever, she didn’t look worried for you. It felt nice.

“We have much to talk about, Jeno.” she said.

Jeno smiled. “I love to talk. I have to go now, but it was very nice meeting you. And I suppose I should thank you, best friend. If it weren’t for you, I would have never met her.  She’s the best thing to happen to me in awhile.” 

  You were flattered by his words. For a second, you believed them. It wasn’t role play, wasn’t another way to squeeze money out of more people. Jeno kissed you on the mouth before turning around and walking out of the apartment.

“He’s nice,” she said. “He’s cute. Are you both serious about each other? He seems like a fuck boy. “

“He is nice,” you said. “And we’re seeing where it goes. I’m not sure serious is the right word. “ 

“I think you deserve to be serious,” she said. “Anyway, I watched him while he was in your fridge. He stole one of your candy bars and shoved it into his pocket.”

  Lights, camera, action. You clapped your hands together like you were in a movie and felt Jeno’s head resting against your stomach. You were reminiscing about another time you were together. The cameras were off and the lights were dimmed. You had both gotten done marathon fucking. Jeno had stubbed his toe on the edge of the bed and was whining about it, and it was the very first moment you realized you didn’t want to stop whatever you were doing. 

“I’m tired,” Jeno whispered. “How many times was that? Do you think they liked it?”

  He kissed your stomach before rubbing his cheek against your warm skin. You placed your hand on the side of his head and started combing through his sweaty hair with your fingers.

“I do,” you said. “The messages won’t stop coming in.”

“Did you like it?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you said. “You’re good in bed.”

“I know that,” he said, his rare cockiness showing it’s head. “But do you like me?” 

  You took a long time to answer, too long for him. You relished the silence after the storm, the way the curtains whistled in the window, their gauzy fabric moving like ghosts. You could hear Jeno purring with sleep, his body still, except for his chest hovering up and down. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I like you a lot.”

  You could keep feelings out of it. You had managed to feel nothing for a long time, so it was easy to keep going the way you were going. Jeno made it harder for you, but somehow you knew the battle was not just yours. You knew the way he looked at you sometimes would complicate the working relationship you had built. In some ways, you were the strong one. In other ways, you were already on your knees begging.

“You’re here,” he said, adding the word “girlfriend” at the end of the sentence to get a rise out of you. 

  Jeno was eating the candy bar he had taken from your fridge. You used your palm to push half of it into his mouth.

“How does it taste?” you asked. “Do you like it?”

He laughed. “Only when you feed me. Come in, I was going to put on one of those bad movies you like so much.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold into his apartment, your energy started dwindling. You didn’t have much patience for jokes, for the setup. As soon as Jeno swallowed the candy, he caught your body the same time you turned to kiss him. His tongue was already in your mouth, his hands moving up your shirt to remove your bra.

“Here,” you said. “Fuck me here. I can’t wait.”

  He grabbed your ass and kneaded it in his hands, before bringing your shorts down your thighs. Your hands were already on the drawstrings of his sweatpants when he picked you up and rested your body against the door. You had sex a few times without the camera since the start, and each time was frantic and loose like a canon. The way he held you buy the armpits as his mouth ravished you was enough to keep you going. You held on tightly to him and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“She doesn’t know,” he said. “Does she? About what you get up to after dark?”

“No talking,” you whispered. “Just take me.”

  Jeno held you with one arm as he pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. With his first thrust, he hoisted you up higher against the door and bit down on your shoulder. Every thrust after, he clung to you and let your body lightly bounce on his cock. You held onto his back and dug your fingernails into his skin. You moaned as loud as you wanted, letting the ugliest expressions cross your face.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Little Stars

A/n: THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 1.5K!!! THISMEANS SO MUCH TO ME SO HERES A LITTLE IMAGINES I WROTE OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD THAN K YUO GUYS AGain

(this is way longer than I thought it would be! also not edited lol sorry)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: maybe like one or two curse words, sexual tension??

Summary: Y/n is an up and coming artist. The problem is her collection deadline is one past up and coming. Lacking motivation since the job was assigned she is stuck the day before her deadline with no paintings or photos and thoroughly depressed. That is until shes see inspiration outside her window. Inspiration by the name of Lee Felix.

Genre: Fluff, strangers to ‘lovers’, 

✧

Empty. My brain was empty. I had two months. Two months to come up with a small exhibit for a local gallery I was signed to. Two months. For five paintings. Or photos. Or both. TOO MANY DECISIONS. Decisions...granted I should have made...two months ago. 

I sat near the biggest window in my apartment. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a natural glow on the stark white canvas. I just needed a theme. A subject. I know! I could do a five-part exhibition on tea kettles!

“Oh for pete’s sake, I’m going crazy,” I said head in my hands. 

I can’t paint teapots. Flowers are overdone. What the hell am I supposed to paint? This exhibition was a huge deal. I had nothing and my deadline was tomorrow night.

That’s it. I’m done. My short career is finished. I should just throw away all my paints and pencils and chalk and coal and trash all the canvases that littered my apartment. I glanced at my phone which sat a few feet away from me on a small wooden table littered with tubes of paint and jars filled with brushes and blades covered in paint. 

An hour had passed and I still had yet to touch my brush to the canvas. Groaning, I rested my forehead against the linen canvas. “Come on, Y/n. Search your artsy soul for inspiration.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I tried to imagine the canvas being filled by something beautiful. Something worthy of love and legacy. Something that could burn a hole in my life and set it on fire. Something to ignite my passion again.

When I opened them, of course, the canvas was still empty and my brain was too.

With the thousandth aggravated sigh of the hour, I sat up and looked out the huge window near me. My eyes caught on a flash of blonde hair. Down on the street, a boy with light hair and bright eyes was bouncing along with two other boys. They were joking around and laughing, as people who’s entire job wasn’t on the line would do. For some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

All of a sudden I could see the brush strokes of his hair on my canvas. The delicate lines of his eyes. I needed to paint him.

I launched myself out of the chair and rushed to the door. My feet took the stairs two at a time and I jumped the last three before sprinting out onto the street. My head turned in all directions trying to find the boy I saw from my window. Once again, I found his blonde mop bouncing and laughing down the street, away from my apartment.

“Hey!” I called out, running to catch up.

Good grief boys walk fast. “Hey! You! With the blonde hair!” At my words, the three boys turned around, astonished someone was running at them. After a few words, the boys started running away. “No! Wait! I need to talk to the Blonde Guy!” I yelled out of breath. Desperate, I ran after them. Thankfully they turned down an alley only a few feet away that I knew was a dead end.

I put my hands on my knees catching my breath. The three boys stared at me a little fearful. “Look, I just need to talk to Goldilocks. I saw him from my window and there was just something about you. It inspired me.”

“Well... yeah. We’re kind of famous. We get that a lot.” The boy with doe-like eyes and dark, almost black hair said like it was obvious. The boy with blonde hair elbowed him in the stomach making the other laugh.

“You’re famous?” I asked, finally standing upright. They looked between each other surprised.

“You don’t know who we are?” The youngest looking asked. He reminded me of a fox I painted once. “Sorry. We thought you were a crazy fan.” To be honest I hadn’t really been keeping up with the news or popular things lately. I had been holed up in my apartment trying to paint. “We’re from a group called Stray Kids. I’m Jeongin. The rude guy is Jisung, and that’s Felix.”

My eye immediately darted to the boy now known to me as Felix. “Felix...” I said looking him over. He was even more entrancing up close. He had soft sun spots dancing across his cheeks and nose that brightened up his face. Freckles. How cute. How different.

“Yeah...what’s your name?”

“Uh- I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n.” 

Jeongin’s eyes widened. “Hyung! Isn’t she that painter that Hyunijn likes? He dragged us to that gallery last year to see her stuff.” Jisung nodded and looked from me back to Felix. “Our friend loves your stuff. He made us take a bunch of pictures of him in front of it.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.” I couldn’t take my eyes off Felix, and he noticed. 

“Do you think we could like buy a painting off you? That would shut him up for like a solid six months.” Jisung said pulling out his wallet. “How much are we talking?”

“For something I have with me? Not in a gallery? Probably like....Fifteen.” I said, still quite distracted. My imagination was spiraling out of control with how I wanted to paint the boy in front of me. How I wanted to capture his image. Photograph him. 

“Fifteen bucks? Great! That’s awes-”

“Fifteen hundred.” 

Felix burst into laughter as the look on Jisung’s face fell. His hand was frozen, extended out in front of him, already prepared to give me fifteen dollars. My heart skipped a beat watching Felix’s bright grin. He practically glowed.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let you choose any painting you want from my apartment and I’ll sign it for...Hyunjin, was it?” The boys nodded. “I’ll give it to you if Felix will help me finish my new exhibition. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll even-”

“Sure.” 

Felix shrugged with a small smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked me over with a soft and happy gaze. It seemed I intrigued him as much as he intrigued me.

“My apartment is just around the corner.”

“Cool. Just a heads up, I’ve never modeled except for like album jackets and stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The closer he got, the harder it was not to smile. Jisung and Jeongin were joking behind us, something about Felix finally getting into a pretty girl’s apartment, but it all kind of faded away as I walked back with Felix. I felt the passion to paint again burning in my stomach.

✧

Felix patiently waited as I opened the door to my apartment. When we entered I hastily cleaned up some random junk cluttering the counters as he looked around. There was nothing I could do about the multiple canvases lying in stacks all around the living room. 

“Wow. You are really good.” He said looking at a large canvas painted with bright and happy colors near my kitchen. Why did the compliment feel different coming from him?

“Thank you very much. I’ve had a bit of a dry spell recently.”

“For how long?” 

“Give or take three months.”

Felix chuckled and looked at the other paintings near him. While he explored my art-filled apartment, I set up my camera on a tripod near the window and adjusted the position of my easel. “So, how is this gonna work?”

“Um...I’m not entirely sure. I’ve never been inspired like this before. I really have no idea what medium I’ll end up using...so I’m sort of using...all of them.” Felix laughed again watching me frantically prepping everything I could possibly need. I didn’t miss the lingering stares he cast my way. 

“We’re doing photos? Should I like put on a base or something?”

“NO!” He was a little shocked at my outburst. He probably wasn’t used to being photographed without makeup. “Sorry. I just- I don’t want you covered up. I want to paint everything. Everything about you.” I looked to see a shy blush on Felix’s face as he came to stand near me by the window.

“So, I sit here?” He motioned to the windowsill, overlooking the street on which I discovered him. The light hit him perfectly, bouncing of his cheekbones and practically giving him a halo.

I nodded quietly and adjusted a few settings on my camera before returning to my easel. Felix looked at me with a smile. I laughed seeing he was trying to pose and stay very still. 

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll ask you to be still if I need to.” 

The sound of the camera clicking filled the apartment as Felix watched me paint him. The lines came easy to me as if I had painted him many times before. He watched as I painted the lines of his face and his eyes quickly appeared on the canvas, staring back at me just like he was. 

“Do you want some music? This will take a while. I’ve got five pieces to do.” Felix chuckled, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down and his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. 

“Music would be wonderful.” With a smile, I shoved my wet paintbrush behind my ear, streaking my cheek and possibly my hair, and shuffled over to turn on my stereo. Felix let a curious grin slip onto his lips. “Classical?” 

“Do you like it? It helps me focus.” He nodded and looked out the window. His eyes closed as the sound of soft violins floated through the apartment. “So, Felix, what’s your favorite book.” He was a little shocked at the random question, but that happy smile returned.

“Ummm...let’s see,” While he thought I continued painting, the basics of his face and form already done. I quickly painted the window and background so I could go back to focusing on the shadows and details of Felix’s face. My hands worked quickly, shading in the dark patches behind the cushions and curtains. 

“Peter Rabbit.”

“Like the kid’s book?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing! It’s just different. I knew there was something special about you.” I said with a laugh, grabbing a smaller brush and looking at the shadows behind Felix. He tilted his head, resting it on the window. 

“Why did you pick me?” 

The movement of my brush stopped. My eyes met the dark brown stare Felix held. He smirked noticing the heat rushing to my cheeks. “I thought you looked like a shooting star.” His eyebrows rose and he tried not to laugh.

“That’s quite the artist's answer.”

“Well, I am an artist.”

He chuckled and started playing with the edge of his sleeve. “So, a shooting star?” Again, I blushed. The painting was almost finished I just needed to finish the details of his eyes and cheeks. “Yeah. I don’t know. You just seemed so full of life. Something fleeting. Something...ephemeral.”

“Ephemeral? As in not lasting? What am I supposed to turn into dust after you’ve finished with me?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling. My eyes trailed down his cheeks to look at the stars dancing across his skin. The freckles scattered about his cheeks. Delicately, I began placing each and every spot as Felix told me about his life.

“It’s finished.” 

“Can I see?” He said jumping up from the window sill. I shook my head and grabbed the still wet canvas. “Come on, Y/n! Let me see!” He chased me around the living room trying to carefully grab the painting. I laughed when his arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me to him. 

“You can see it when the collection is complete! We have more art to make!” He laughed and let me place the painting away to dry. Together we walked over back to the window and he sat back down, watching me expectantly. 

I scanned through the photos the camera captured. They were fantastic. They were the perfect candids. I could edit these into black and white and it would be gorgeous. Felix came to look over my shoulder. He gasped at the pictures. 

“How the hell did you do that?” Felix gently took the camera and scrolled through the pictures. “Seriously. You were busy painting. How did you do this?” I shrugged and cleaned some of my brushes while he looked through the photos. 

“Sometimes it is not about the angle or the position. It’s just what the subject is doing or feeling.” I took the camera and scrolled to a certain picture. “Like this one.” Felix looked at the picture. It was him leaning against the window, his eyes crescents and aimed somewhere off frame. “Do you know when this was?” He shook his head and looked to me.

“When I called you a shooting star.” Felix looked at the photo again, seeing it in a new light. 

“So, what’s next?”

I felt so close to Felix. Like I had known him for years. Had it really only been a few hours? My eyes traced the lines of his shoulders and back. The perfect canvas.

“Can I...paint on you?”

His eyes widened for a millisecond and he let out a breathy laugh. “Have you done it before?” I shrugged and wiped my paint stained hands on my jeans. When I looked up he had moved a little closer.

“I’ve never really wanted to. Like I said, I don’t want to capture your image...covered up. It should be seen naturally.”

Felix smiled. “So, where are we doing this?” He said softly. My heart thumped against my chest. I pointed to an open space on the wood floor and he nodded. I grabbed some body paints I had lying around in a cabinet and brought them over to Felix. 

“Let me know if anything gets uncomfortable and I’ll stop.” He nodded and slipped his shirt over his head. I motioned for him to lie on his stomach and he followed my instruction. Felix shivered when his tan skin touched the cool wood floor. 

“What got you into painting?” Felix asked, resting his head on his arms. I picked out the brush I wanted to start with. My palm rested on his shoulder as the brush hovered over his back. 

“I’m not really sure. You see...I really sucked at math.”

Felix let out the largest laugh, one that shook his whole chest. I took the opportunity to start painting. Soon his lower back was filled with swirling colors of blues and purples. “Is everything okay?” Felix asked, interrupting his own story.

“Yeah, just an awkward angle.” 

“You can adjust if you want to. I don’t mind.” My skin started to crawl when  Felix turned to me in the eye. Like he was inviting me to come even closer to him. He smiled at the blush on my cheeks before turning his head away. Hesitantly, I situated myself above Felix, slowly resting some of my weight on the lowest part of his back possible. I saw him smile when he felt my knees on either side of his hips. 

Felix continued his story about something one of his friends named Chan did the other night. The sound of his low voice mixed with the music still playing guided my brush like it had a mind of its own. When I looked at my work, a nebula with hundreds of little stars was born onto his skin.

“I think it’s done.”

Carefully, I got off of Felix and helped him up. I set the camera up again and it started taking pictures. Taking Felix’s hand I pulled him in front of the lens and positioned him with his back towards the camera. He watched me as I positioned his body, my hands unintentionally lingering on his shoulders.

Felix turned to me as I began to pull away. “I didn’t know art could be so intimate.” I looked down to see his hand on my arm, his body was slightly turned at the waist towards me and his eyes bore into mine. Never had I felt this passionate about something other than art. I liked Felix. A lot. More than I should admit after just meeting the man. “Is it supposed to be like this?”

I shook my head, hoping he wouldn't notice I stepped closer. “No,” His hand slid around the base of my back. “Maybe you are a shooting star. I couldn’t have wished for something this incredible.” He smiled and looked down at me.

“Can I kiss you? Sorry...I just-”

“You really didn’t have to ask.” Felix, let out a small laugh, almost a giggle, making me smile. My fingers traveled up his neck and into the edge of his blonde hair. “Well, are you gonna do it or are you gonna chicken out, Felix?”

“Oh shh.”

His lips tasted like strawberries. He was gentle and slow, like he was savoring every moment. When he pulled away I rested my forehead against his. “I do not regret putting off my work until the last minute.” He laughed, his eyes brightening and lighting up the whole room. 

✧

Standing in the gallery felt like a second home. My exhibition hung on the wall .It was one of my greatest yet. The gallery had given me an extension after seeing the semi-finished product. A group of rowdy boys walked towards me, a familiar and handsome face leading them.

“Y/n!” He called, running up and greeting me with a kiss. The other seven boys followed after him. One of the taller ones hung towards the back clearly nervous.

“You must be Hyunjin?” I asked reaching for his hand. His eyes widened and he shook my hand vigorously. His sharp features lifted into a grin and he laughed. “You might want to let go of my hand eventually.” 

“Oh. Sorry. I’m just such a big fan.”

“I know. Felix has told me all about you. I’ve got a painting signed for you in my car.” Hyunjin’s jaw dropped and I swear he almost fell backwards had Jisung not been there to catch him.

“So, what is your collection called?” The boy Felix pointed out to me as Chan asked. Felix proudly wrapped an arm around my waist as I guided the group to the first piece.

“It’s called Little Stars.” Felix, blushed when I lightly pinched his cheek. The boys marveled at the first painting. It was one of Felix sitting in my window. It was the only piece in color. We moved on to the second piece. The photo I had shown Felix of him smiling. 

The next photo was a frame I had cropped to show just his eyes. Even in black and white Felix still managed to bring color and life with just a single look. “Wow, Felix! I had no idea you were this cool looking!” Minho said, marveling at the photograph. Felix kicked him as we moved forward. 

The second to last photo showed the painting I did on Felix’s back. He was completely turned away from the camera, but you could see my hands on his shoulder and waist. I had edited the photo so just my hands and arms were seen. Felix smiled and kissed the top of my head before the both of us led the group to the exhibit finale.

“DAMN FELIX!” Jisung yelled.

“Jisung. We are in an art gallery. Don’t yell.” Chan scolded.

“Sorry, but Felix got game.”

I laughed and looked at the photo; it was my favorite. Felix was half turned towards me but you could still see the nebula and stars on his back, his hand was gripping my waist tightly and he smiled down at me, our foreheads pressed together. You could see my fingers pulling away from the base of his hair, giving movement to the photo.

“This is incredible, Y/n.” 

“Well, it’s all you so I should say so.” He kissed my cheek with that bright smile of his. “You really are my shooting star. I’m getting everything I could ever wish for.”

✧

Requests are open, my lovelies!

Masterlist

[tansypoisoning]

Tansy’s Spooky Challenge

Because the World is terrifying :D

To celebrate this milestone (1k followers :O) I’m starting a challenge which hopefully will give back to this community in terms of exposure of less known authors (or just authors that aren’t known by my followers) and in creating more stories. I’m so thankful for all the attention I’ve been given, and I hope to give you guys my attention as well.

I love writing challenges because they give authors motivation to write (sometimes even things out of their comfort zone), because they’re a great way for writer’s to promote themselves, and because it’s a great way for the person hosting it to find more stories and authors they could end up being big fans of :D I especially encourage people with less followers, or whose works I haven’t read to participate.

The main objective of this challenge is to write something that has an element of horror in it. It can range from a situation that seemed scary but is okay, to something that is a little eerie, to pure unadulterated terror. As for rules:

You DON’T have to be following me to participate.

You have to enter with a reader insert/OC fic. There doesn’t have to be any smut or shipping, and if there is, the relationship DOESN’T HAVE to be about dark!character or dark!reader.

I’ll read works for any fandom, but the ones I’m most familiar with are Marvel, Overwatch, Snowpiercer, Knives Out, Naruto, Avatar:The Legend of Aang

You can submit drabbles, one-shots, or an entry of a serialized story.

A single prompt CAN be used by more than a single person.

The fanfics can be of any length, but if they’re on the longer side, please try putting a ‘Read More’ in there somewhere to avoid making things difficult for people reading on phones.

Things that are not allowed in terms of content: underage sex, bestiality, graphic child abuse (allusions are ok) I don’t think anyone would submit an entry that I would have reservations reblogging, but if in doubt you can ask me for help. Give warnings for any sensitive topic you bring up.

Tag your fic with “TansySpookyChallenge2020”

Send me an ask or dm telling me you posted it, preferably a dm. Asks can get eaten by the inbox, and tagging doesn’t always work.

Deadline is November 24th. You can DM for extensions

PROMPTS BELOW

Choose one item from each list and work them into a story. I allow and encourage trying to game the system with multiple interpretations of a term, less literal readings, or wordplay.

List 1

Happiness

Jealousy

Nostalgia

Desperation

Fury

Triumph

Sadness

Acceptance

Fervor

Disgust

Awe

Confusion

Hope

Craving

Foreboding

Denial

Loss

Ennui

Adoration

Sympathy

Pain

Betrayal

Commiseration

Anxiety

Rancor

Determination

List 2

Sink or swim

Chokecherry

Crossroads

“Let me see what you have.” “A knife!”

French vanilla

Something forgotten long ago

The shore

The eye of the storm

Bathtub

Corn hell

Down by the river

Baby’s breath

A little fire

An old saloon

Unearthed bones

On the move

Before dawn

Dead men walking

By candlelight

Frankenstein

Prima Donna

A hill about a mile outta town

First dance

Ritual

Underground

A small request

These text prompts can be used however you want: whether you want to have them in your story in their entirety, use bits, write something around them, something inspired by them, or just something you think has a similar feel. Just let me know which you picked.

There is a Corvette parked in front of the building, just by the front door. You approach the vehicle as if compelled by an invisible force and look in through the closed window. There’s none inside, but you see, in the driver's seat, illuminated by the neon lights of the bar, a white cowboy hat with a golden band. This isn’t the first time you see this hat.

The hole is no more than eight feet long and three feet wide. You peer in deeper, but you can’t see the bottom. There’s a soft but grating sound coming from somewhere within, like sharp nails raking against a metal plate. You can’t see the bottom, but you think you can see movement inside.

You abandon the warmth of the laundromat for the biting cold of the outside world. To your right, the road extends for miles and miles into the night, as it does to your left. There’s no place for you to go, but you can’t go back inside.

The light of the neon sign proudly displaying “Rising Sun Motel” shines through your door. You had closed and locked it before taking your shower – you know you had, because you do it in every room you rent. You take a cursory glance of your surroundings. Nothing is out of place or missing. Must be a faulty lock. The night is windy and could have pushed the cheap door open. You go to lock it again, and when you turn around you see that the closet door is slightly ajar.

The land is flat as far as the eye can see and identical houses with identically manicured lawns sprout from it as far as the eye can see. You run up and then down the street (or is it down and then up?) but you can’t seem to find anything else. The people look so friendly when they smile and wave as they pass you by, but you don’t ask them for directions. You look at your phone. You have signal, but all you can get your internet to show you are advertising for washing machines and sites with recipes for awful things preserved in aspic. The date and hour on your home screen keep changing. You’re positive you’ve been in this place for hours, but the sun won’t set.

“B-but… I don’t understand...” “We have checked the security footage three times and found nothing. There are also no signs of forced entries. No fingerprints.” “-My phone! I took pictures, I know I took-!” “We found nothing on your phone, in the SD card, or in the Cloud. There’s nothing.” “That’s impossible!” “We searched as much as we could. I’m sorry, but… are you sure-” “I know what I saw! I know it! Look again!” You aren’t imagining things. It couldn't have been your mind. It couldn't, it couldn’t, it couldn't

What kind of convenience store has taxidermy heads for decoration? You ask yourself as you roam the aisles of the near empty shop. You peek from behind a row of shelves to one side and spot the clerk. He’s old and severe looking, and although his pupils are pointed in your direction, you get the distinct feeling he’s looking right through you. You move your head to the other side of the shelves and spot another one of those fucking deer heads. This one’s large, wet eyes are turned to a fixture in the ceiling, but you would swear it’s watching you.

Rain pelts you as you stand at the dock, waiting. You hope your boat will arrive soon. You look over your shoulder into the mist and see nothing that should give you pause, but your leg still won’t stop shaking. You touch your arm by reflex and wince when you brush your cut. You think your makeshift tourniquet is working, but it looks fragile, like it could get dismantled at any second. In this weather, you’re sure is just a matter of time. You look over your shoulder again. Still nothing, but you fear it won’t last. You hope your boat will arrive soon.

The living room is dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. You are still too close. You move to the kitchen, and there you feel safe enough to reach for the switch. The illuminated room, much larger than it needed to be, is a ghastly land of contrasts. The many counters and their many marble tops are covered in trash. The tile floors, formerly clean enough to eat out of, are now muddied, not a single spot spared. The eyes of the two stoves are covered by pans and pots boiling foul mixtures. Through the window you can see the sprawling lawn and walls of hedges. They will hide you, but for how long? There is something waiting for you in the hallway, something terrible. You have to address it before sunrise, but for now you’ll wait here. The kitchen isn’t half as bad as the rest of the house.

‘The Bystander Effect’ is the term used to describe the phenomenon in which people don’t intervene in emergency situations when in a group, and, the larger the group, the less likely they are to intervene. You know this to be true, even without doing any research, as you hobble your way through the maze of alleyways. Your cries for help had gone unanswered, bouncing off the concrete walls into a multitude of uncaring ears. It’s just how it is in the big city – every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. So much for safety in numbers. The truth is, in this city, surrounded by all these people, you’re more alone than you’d ever been.

You take the first step with care, mindful of all the ice. The second is a little clumsier. On the third you almost slip. You skip the fourth and fall on the fifth, rolling down the stairs and landing face first in the snow. You scramble to get back to your feet and run to your car. You have to get home. You lock yourself in and don’t bother with the safety belt. You shove the key in the ignition and turn and turn but nothing happens. Did you leave it in the cold too long, or- There’s no time to think about it. You step out of the car and start running, into the freezing night. You have to get home, you have to get home now.

Cleanup time is always a hassle. You wish you didn’t have to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave the mess all to your partner. You two near the open trunk of the car and load the heavy cargo into it. Your companion seems the most affected by the weight, and you offer an apologetic smile. Fair is fair though; it was your turn to carry the feet end.

Skinny dipping had seemed like a good idea when your friend suggested it earlier, under the sweltering sun. Now, standing in front of the pool in your bathing suit, all by your lonesome, you start to regret having agreed to her scheme. Wasn’t she supposed to have arrived forty minutes ago? She said she’d bring people too, because skinny dipping alone isn’t fun. Well, now you are all alone in the cold, and you suspect that is even less fun. Just as you make up your mind to leave, you see a car through the chain link fence. It pulls up just before the gate and the engine turns off. That must be them.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 47 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet bombed her design pitch, and Adore and Pearl broke up.

This Chapter: Violet gets a lovely surprise, Aiden gets angrier, and Courtney comforts a friend.

***

“So,” Fame looked over at Raja, leaning back on the green velvet couch. “What do we think?”

Ivy had come by with lunch, two salad containers now sitting half empty on the table. They had received printouts from Ivy with the original couture sketches, whatever samples the designers had handed them, and polaroids of the garments as they looked today.

“About the couture looks?” Raja smiled. They were talking about the Spring collection, but Raja was also finalizing the dresses and roles for Monday’s holiday collection showroom show.

“Mmh,” Fame nodded, fiddling with her thumb, the edge of her manicure looking like it was cracking.

“Who do we want this on?” Raja held up one of Kiara’s holiday designs, the dress a lovely red. “I’m thinking blonde?”

“Good call.” Fame smiled, that particular dress without a doubt ending up in Chad Michaels’ closet. It always got Fame in the best of moods to watch Raja work, her friend at her very best when she was pulling final styles together, her eye for the entire picture unmatched.

“We still need a holiday dress for Raven,” Raja smiled, holding up her fiance's headshot. “Opening or close?”

“Who says she’s getting either?” Fame teased, a laugh leaving her when Raja shot her a look. “I want her closing. She does that very well. Makes everyone feel like spending money.”

“Mmh,” Raja smirked, a proud expression on her face, putting Raven with one of the prettiest dresses in the bunch. It was weirdly romantic how Raja always looked out for Raven, though Fame was sure she’d deny it if she was ever confronted directly.

“Okay,” Raja sat back on the couch, putting her elbow on the back, golden bracelets clacking on her wrist as she rested her head on her hand. “What’s the verdict for couture?”

“Hmm,” Fame chewed her lip, flicking through the folder on her lap. “I think Alexis should open. This sky-inspired piece of hers,” Fame pulled the sketch out, “is lovely.”

“I agree.” Raja nodded.  “And closing?”

There were several to choose from, but if Fame was being honest, there was only one that made sense for her.

“What about Violet’s?”

“Violet’s?” Raja sounded genuinely surprised, her eyes widening. “I thought you hated it?”

“What? Why?”

“Because you cut her off?”

“Raj, please,” Fame rolled her eyes. “She was talking my ear off, explaining all these incredibly unnecessary details when her work clearly spoke for itself. It’s very unbecoming to need that much reassurance of a job well done.” Fame pulled Violet’s dress from the folder, the flared sleeve and horizontal beads exactly what Fame wanted.

“Aha.”

“Good.” Fame put it down on the table, not noticing the small smile on Raja’s lips. “We’ll email everyone, and start looking for our exclusive models if we need anyone from overseas-” Fame paused. “Hold on. I have to call Courtney. This manicure is driving me absolutely crazy.”

***

It was always a rare relief when Fame decided to go into Raja’s office for a meeting rather than the other way around, and today was one of those lovely days, Ivy taking care of everything they needed and urging her to go take a real lunch break while she had the chance, that she’d call her back if necessary.

Which for Courtney meant a visit to her favorite department at Galactica: makeup. It was incredible how just walking into their suite made her whole body relax, the bright and sunny creative energy something she absolutely craved. Even the way people dressed was better down here: bright colors and fun patterns and hair every color in the rainbow. Alaska gave her a warm welcome as always, inviting her to sit down and eat with them, even sharing some of the Chinese food they’d ordered, which was a very nice addition to Courtney’s own sad little garden salad.

“You know,” Kim said, wiping her mouth with a napkin as she took in Courtney’s face, eyes squinted as if imagining the way the colors would look, “the Spring Rain palette would look amazing on you.”

“Omigod, it so would! Let’s try it out!” cried Amy, clapping her hands. Amy was the department’s coordinator, and Courtney hadn’t spoken to her much, but based on her electric-blue pigtails and ruffly Lolita dress, she knew she liked her.

“Whaddaya say, Court? Wanna be a canvas for a bit?” Alaska asked.

“Sure!”

Soon, Courtney was sitting in a director’s chair as Kim and Amy went to town on her face.

“Are your eyes green or blue?” Kim asked, tilting her chin this way and that in the bright light.

“Green. But I think in some lights they look blue.”

“Yeah, this cerulean is really picking that up.”

“Try adding a bit of the peacock,” Amy suggested.

“Yes! Good call!” Kim said, picking up the palette again.

Courtney closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of brushes being swiped against her skin, Kim’s movements both precise and certain. It was awhile before Courtney felt any urge to speak again, asking a question that had been on her mind for awhile.

“Um...do you guys know Bianca Del Rio?”

“No, I wish!” Kim chuckled. “She’s such a badass.”

“We have mutual friends. Why?” Alaska smiled curiously, and Courtney suddenly felt a bit embarrassed.

“Well...I don’t know, I was just wondering what you think of her.”

“She’s everything I want to be when I grow up,” Amy piped up, swatching a few lip colors on Courtney’s arm. “She’s supposedly a real ball-buster, but my friend at Marie-Claire says she’s a decent boss. At least, people like working for her.”

“That’s cool,” Courtney said, biting her lip, cheeks growing hot under the lights as she worked up the nerve to ask what she really wanted to know. “What about, um...her...dating history. She’s gone out with a lot of girls, huh?”

“Yeah...she has,” Alaska replied slowly, exchanging a look with Kim as Amy stepped up to apply the chosen lipstick.

Kim waved a pair of lashes in the air, waiting for the glue to become tacky.

“The thing about Bianca is…” Alaska paused, seemed unsure of whether she should continue, before saying, “She’s not really into relationships. She just doesn’t ever seem to want more than flings. I mean, we’ve crossed paths dozens of times over the years, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her with the same girl twice.”

“Oh.” Courtney nodded, settling back while Kim applied her lashes, wondering why her heart was pounding so fast.

“But that said, I mean...she does seem to treat people pretty well. You certainly never see girls crying about her in the tabloids, which I think says a lot, considering her...volume.”

“It helps that she’s apparently god-level in bed,” Amy giggled.

“Don’t trust the rumors,” Alaska warned.

“Well, I’ve heard it from someone first-hand, so…” Amy trailed off, giving a suggestive wink before reaching forward to finish the look with a delicate, shell-pink lip gloss, as Courtney tried her best not to squirm in her seat.

“Umm...anyway…” Alaska began awkwardly, when loud buzzing from the table interrupted. “Oh, Court, it’s Fame.”

Alaska handed her the phone, the usual seizing of Courtney’s stomach whenever her boss called telling her that the fun was over.

“Hello?”

“Courtney. I’m done with Raja, and my thumbnail is chipped.”

“Ye-”

Fame hung up before Courtney could respond, leaving her slightly puzzled.

“Thanks guys, this was super fun,” she said, sliding off the chair and grabbing her handbag, knowing she’d be expected to send a memo to design right away, along with apparently finding a manicurist to come to the office? Maybe?

“Wait!” Kim cried, holding up a lighted mirror for her to see the whole look.

“Wow.”

It was certainly a lot more colorful and dramatic than the makeup Courtney normally wore, and for a split second, she let herself imagine that she was backstage getting ready to perform, or on the set of some glamorous photo shoot, before pushing those silly fantasies down and giving Kim a grateful smile.

“Thanks, really, you guys are awesome,” Courtney said, internally lamenting the fact that she had to leave this colorful and fun office to go back to the stark white institutional tension upstairs.

***

From: Courtney A. Jenek To: (undisclosed)

Subject: Spring Runway Selection

MEMO TO GALACTICA DESIGN AND TAILORING DEPARTMENTS

FROM THE OFFICE OF MISS FAME

Please find attached the selected looks for the opening and closing of the Spring runway show, along with the alternates that we are keeping in the show, placement TBD.

Additionally, make sure to note the following upcoming deadlines in relation to the Spring couture collection:

December 5, 7 pm - submission for the rest of the Spring couture runway looks

December 11, 7 pm - final revised Spring couture submissions

December 12 - Selection of final couture looks/alternates

December 14 - Individual designer meetings with tailoring dept

December 18, 11 am - First fitting

January 11, 11 am - Second fitting

***

“Oh...“ Violet couldn’t believe it.

She had clicked on the placement, hoping that her dress would be in there somewhere, Trixie’s promise that nothing would get scrapped completely not enough to reassure her, but there it was, in black and white.

Her first couture look for Galactica was closing the fucking Spring show.

“Holy shit-” Violet whispered, the information not sinking in at all.

She had been chosen, she had done well, she was making the company proud.

Violet was just about to panic, everything so overwhelming, when a second email ticked in.

From: Courtney A. Jenek To: Violet Chachki

Subject: Fwd: Spring Runway Selection

OMG ALKDJALSKDJALDJ IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!!11 AKFJSALKFJASLKFJALFSD CONGRATS!!!!!!!111

Violet snorted, Courtney’s excitement radiating through the screen, that message somehow making it real.

From: Violet Chachki To: Courtney A. Jenek Subject: Re: Fwd: Spring Runway Selection

Thanks

***

Aiden closed the door to Trixie’s office firmly behind him, using all the strength in his body not to slam it with full force. He briefly imagined how good it would feel, to be able to make the walls vibrate with all of the rage he felt inside. Instead, he swallowed down all the bitterness and headed to his desk.

It had been an awful meeting, Trixie pulling his typical nice guy act to say that he was “concerned” about Aiden’s “attitude” and wanted to make sure that he was gonna be the right fit for the Galactica team long-term. That he wanted to see more collaboration with the other designers, and as a learning experience, he should be prepared on Monday to assist backstage for the Holiday collection show.

Assist.

Aiden was a designer, not a fucking tailor, not a fucking assistant, and this was going to be a new low. Not to mention that he was already in a foul mood, having seen the selection for the opening and closing Spring runway looks. That new little brat, the baby with no experience, not like Aiden, had been chosen to close the show.

He sat at his chair for almost a minute, saying nothing, just breathing deeply. Before Kiara asked, “Everything alright, dude?”

“Oh yeah. Everything is fucking great!” Aiden snapped, not bothering to stay and take in the stricken look on her face before getting up and marching to the restrooms, where he could at least lock himself in a stall and get a tiny minute of peace and quiet.

***

“Omigod, I’m so happy to see you!” Adore exclaimed, pulling Courtney inside her apartment, over to the sofa. “I stole a bunch of alcohol from Bianca before I left, so I’m well stocked! What do you want?”

“Gin and tonic?” Courtney asked, taking off her coat and settling down against the plush velvety purple fabric of Adore’s sofa.

“Coming right up, ma’am!” Adore exclaimed, walking over to the open kitchen to pour Courtney’s drink.

“So, you seem...how are you?” Courtney ventured, knowing that Adore was probably still in a fragile state, but not wanting to destroy what seemed like a decent mood.

“Well you know… It’s been shit. But I stayed with B all week and she’s like, kinda the best in this situation. She didn’t even gloat over being right.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. I’m glad she took care of you.”

Adore set Courtney’s glass down.

“Yeah, it was nice.”

There was a firm knock on the door, and Adore jumped up again, running to answer.

“Pizza’s here!”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah, I ordered ahead because I knew you’d be working late and you probably haven’t had a real meal all--thank you!” She closed the door, carrying the boxes and a bag over to the coffee table and setting it down with a smile.

It was such a sweet gesture, and Courtney was truly starving, so she almost felt bad reminding Adore, “Um...I’m still doing that vegan thing, remember?”

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry, I totally forgot, I-” Adore bit her lip, looking more distraught than was probably necessary, given the circumstances.

“It’s okay, I’ll just pull off the cheese, don’t worry!” Courtney reassured her.

“But you’ve told me like a billion times and I keep forgetting and I’m just the worst friend ever,” Adore sniffled. “I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, it’s okay, really.” Courtney crawled over to Adore, hugging her tightly.

“It’s not. I got you a kale caesar salad too because I know you used to like those but that’s not vegan either. God, what is wrong with my stupid brain?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. You’re human, you make mistakes. It was still so nice of you to get all this.” Courtney pressed a kiss to her temple. “And you know what? I’ve been so strict for a few weeks, I think it’s okay to have one cheat day.”

“Are you sure? We can order Chinese or Thai if you want, or there’s-”

“I’m sure. I came here to try and cheer you up. Not to make you feel guilty.” Courtney snuggled against her, head on her shoulder.

“Okay. We can postmates some vegan gelato for dessert.”

“Perfect.”

Adore sighed, leaning her head against Courtney’s for a moment before sitting up and opening the food. Courtney accepted the plate from her, pulling the cheese off her pizza and shaking up the caesar salad - she decided that she could handle the dressing if she omitted the little container of parmesan.

They ate in silence for a few moments before Courtney looked up at Adore and asked, “Do you want my cheese?”

Adore’s eyes widened, looking down at her plate.

“Yes!”

She took it with such enthusiasm that it made Courtney laugh.

“Was this the plan all along?”

“I wish. I’m not that smart,” Adore told her.

“Yeah you are. You’re very smart. You’re the best.”

Adore held her gaze for a few moments, eyes welling up before the tears spilled down her cheeks. She covered her face, and Courtney shoved the plates aside, laying Adore’s head down in her lap.

Courtney stroked her hair for awhile, letting her cry, not saying anything, tears soaking into her skirt and tights. When her sniffling finally subsided, she asked, “So on a scale of 1 to 10...how much do we hate her?”

Adore rubbed her red, swollen eyes. “That’s the hardest part. I don’t really hate her at all. I mean, I asked her to be honest with me, and she was, and...it just wasn’t what I wanted to hear. So...no, I don’t hate her. It would be too exhausting to hate her.”

Courtney took her hand, holding it tight and solemnly saying, “Okay. Then I’ll hate her for you. So you don’t have to.”

Adore’s face crumbled as her tears began falling again.

“You’re the best friend in the world.”

“No, you are,” Courtney said with a grin. “Come on, let’s go wash your face and order that gelato!”

***

“I just can’t believe that my dress is going out on that runway, like, I was so sure Fame absolutely hated it, and-”

“You don’t need to chop the parsley that finely lovely eyes,” Sutan smiled, stirring the pasta puttanesca sauce they had made together. Sutan wasn’t necessarily the best cook in the world, neither he or Raja ever really picking up on their mothers love of spending time in the kitchen, but he could do a few dishes well, and after seeing Violet’s fridge, he had made it a mission to make sure his girlfriend had a minimum of culinary experience.

“Oh,” Violet paused, looking down at the cutting board. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sutan pressed a quick kiss against her temple, standing side by side in the kitchen surprisingly nice. “I know it’ll be just as amazing as your holiday dress.”

“Please,” Violet smiled, though Sutan could see on her face that she was pleased. He wasn’t going to buy anything at the show, but he was still coming along, both to test one of his newer models, but also because he wanted to see what Violet had created in action.

“I’m serious.”

The sauce was almost done, Violet pulling a face when she had seen him slice up the anchovies, but Sutan was pretty sure that she’d like the dish, if what she tended to gravitate towards could be used as any indication.

“Would you mind setting the table?”

“Not at all,” Violet smiled, putting the knife down, quickly washing her fingers, her jewelry left in the little bowl by the sink that Raja and sometimes Raven had used when they all lived together.

Sutan hadn’t actually noticed it until Violet had dumped her rings into it, the fact that it was there completely escaping his attention, interior design never something that had interested him.

When he had gotten married to Kahmora, he had moved from this apartment directly into her place and back again after their divorce, how she wanted things decorated not anything that had mattered to him in the short time they had been married.

He had never really lived with Jinkx, their relationship thankfully never moving any further than their disastrous engagement, but he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t have been asked about his preferences, shame momentarily curling in his belly at the thought of how unfair and terrible he had been to Jinkx.

“Sutan?” He was pulled out of his thoughts by Violet’s voice, the woman standing by his cabinet with a smile on her face. “Did you buy wine? To have with dinner?”

“I got us a bottle of red.”

“Okay,” Violet nodded, grabbing the wine glasses from the shelf. Juju used to complain when she came over, and had told both Raja and Sutan multiple times that the apartment was furnished for giants, but Violet never had trouble getting anything.

Sutan’s alarm went off, telling him it was time to drain the pasta, Violet handing him two plates so he could serve up their meal, both of them sitting down at the table.

“Do you like it?” Sutan smiled as he watched Violet taste the food, a thoughtful expression on her face as she chewed on it.

“It’s fine.”

“So you hate it?” Sutan lifted an eyebrow, a smirk on his face.

“No!” Violet seemed outraged. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” Violet kicked him under the table, smiling now. “It’s nice.”

“Sure,” Sutan laughed, Violet’s deadpan deliveries still something he was getting used to, her dry humor a lot more enjoyable than he had ever imagined. “Good.”

They ate for a while, chatting back and forth, Sutan refilling their glasses, Violet almost finished with her pasta when she put down her fork.

“I-” Violet looked at him, her teeth biting into her lip. “I’ve been thinking about Aspen?”

“Yes?”

“And I’d like to go.”

“Oh?” Sutan wasn’t aware that it had been something she had been considering, the fact that she was even thinking about turning it down not even crossing his mind.

“Well I’m glad.” Sutan smiled, hiding his confusion. “Mostly because I already booked your plane ticket.”

“Really?” Violet sounded genuinely surprised, almost as if she wasn’t sure if he had been serious about the offer.

“Really, not that I would have forced you to come.” Sutan tapped her foot under the table, Violet still such a mystery to him. “Raven on the other hand,” Sutan smiled. “That could have been a problem, since she’s bought matching everything for you two.”

“... What?”

***

ADORE: Courtney’s a vegan, you know.

BIANCA: Yeah, she told me.

ADORE: I keep forgetting like an asshole so I just wanted to make sure you knew and would have some vegan stuff on thurs

BIANCA: It’s gonna be 100% vegan, I hired a chef to cater. She even making vegan relleno de pavo

ADORE: WAIT WHAT

ADORE: How the FUCK do you make vegan relleno de pavo?

BIANCA: I dunno, but she’s a professional.

ADORE: And what about the corn pudding? IT NEEDS BUTTER

BIANCA: Would you relax? It’ll be delicious

ADORE: WHAT ABOUT THE TURKEY

BIANCA: I don’t eat turkey. You’re outvoted 2 to 1.

ADORE: BIANCA DEL RIO I’VE HAD A VERY TRAUMATIC WEEK! IT’S THANKSGIVING! TURKEY!

BIANCA: I’ll get you a package of fucking Hillshire Farm, calm down

ADORE: I want to be mad at that but I love Hillshire Farm. lol

BIANCA: You’re welcome

BIANCA: Btw you’re also welcome to cook whatever you like and contribute to the meal

ADORE: Um...no thanks

BIANCA: Thought so, cunt

[squarecarousel]

Interview with Caitlin Alexander

Well folks, we're nearly at the end of our Square Carousel journey, and there are just two interviews left – both with two of our longest-standing members! Today, we reconnect with Caitlin Alexander, who has been with the Square Carousel Collective from its very beginning almost 10 years ago. Although we've featured an interview with her here in the past, it's been so long that we are due for an update! When she's not freelancing or performing her duties as an SC admin extraordinaire, Caitlin works tirelessly on her craft, creating prints, products, hand lettered posters, and artwork that embrace the earthy beauty of nature. With a strong focus on environmentalism and a sense of community, her artwork exudes a warmth and complexity that draws the viewer in and invites them to stay a while. Read on for her gems of wisdom!

Make Earth Cool Again

Q: Comparing your early work from your first few years after college to your most recent pieces, you've kept a lot of the textural, playful essence of your style while refining certain elements. Has your process changed much since those early days, and if so, what do you now do differently? 

 A: Such a great question straight out of the gate! My process has changed quite a bit since I graduated in 2011 (almost a decade ago... yikes!). In college, part of my crafted identity as a brand-new illustrator was my traditional use of gouache paint. I actually, in all honestly, was kind of a snob about it, because so many people in our department worked solely digitally. I felt that digital painting was a crutch, which I suppose can be true in some cases, and possibly even more-so when you're applying that to college students, but I certainly had no ground to stand on. In reality, my snobbery kept me from learning critical tools, as I never took Photoshop or Illustrator classes, aside from the one that was required for graduation. This hindered my work a great deal outside of college, given that illustration is so often paired with graphic design, and editing work for clients was so much more difficult traditionally. In 2013, I got a job designing t-shirts, and lied to the company, saying I knew how to use Illustrator. Luckily it was remote, so I was able to teach myself without anyone hovering over me, but that was so foolish, looking back, given the expensive education I got at SCAD should have been my opportunity to learn those things. I introduced digital work more and more over the years, and by 2016 or so, I was primarily a digital artist. Gouache will always have a place in my heart, and I will still break out the tubes occasionally, but working digitally has allowed me to grow so much more as an illustrator, with the ability to edit, paint with more detail, and having more control over color and layering. 

Q: Of all the projects you've done in your professional career, which would you say is closest to your heart? 

 A: Probably the picture book I worked on a couple of years ago, titled "Cool For You." I had a lot of creative freedom for that project, and the subject matter of climate change is personally very important to me. Working with the author, Marianna, was really wonderful, as well. 

Cool For You book cover

Q: The Southwest influence on your work is pretty significant, and I think it's safe to assume you appreciate the majesty of the landscape in your region of the country. However, if you had to live in another state, which would you choose and why? 

 A: Funny you ask that, because I've actually considered moving from Texas to Colorado lately! The culture there is still very western, but I appreciate the liberal point of view (Texas has been grating on me lately, even living in Austin), and the landscape is even more stunning out there! I'd be close to so many inspiring National Parks. Plus, summers wouldn't be 8 months of the year and over 100 degrees for half of it! 

Travel West postcard (1 of 6)

Q: TV shows or movies? 

 A: Lately, Jordan and I have been watching New Girl on repeat. I'm not usually one to watch a show or movie over and over again, but I think we really just needed something light and fun, since life has been so very stressful over the last year.

Q: What's your favorite subject to draw? 

 A: This one is hard! I'm torn between people and landscapes. People are more fun and comfortable for me, and I could knock out a bunch of them quickly. Landscapes are always intimidating, and I'm nervous the whole time, feeling like I can't remember how I did it the time before. It's so strange, because it always ends up fine! But since I feel that way, the payoff is so much greater when I feel satisfied with the final result. 

Q: What would a perfect day look like for you? A: I probably would have answered this totally differently pre-COVID, but in this current world we live in, I would absolutely love to have what used to be a normal, uneventful weekend day for me: Jordan and I would sleep in a little, see an early afternoon movie at the Alamo Drafthouse where we'd eat lunch, then spend the rest of the afternoon browsing used book stores and estate sales, and then meet our friends at the neighborhood coffeehouse for dinner and Trivia Night. I will be so happy to have that again. 

Cover art for East Side Magazine

Book Lover Ladies series- The Book Clubbers

Q: What have you learned from your years at Square Carousel, whether organizing behind the scenes or as a contributor? 

 A: Oooof!! So SO many things! Wow... well, I'll go with the most obvious first: as a member, I learned how to continue to make portfolio-worthy work, even without jobs coming in. That was definitely the most valuable thing about Square Carousel, in my opinion, and hopefully what everyone else got out of it, as well. It can be so hard for fresh graduates to keep up that momentum, and the group saved many of us from becoming stagnant. In terms of running the group... it's been rewarding, but honestly very difficult throughout the years. There have been many ups and downs, and finding the right balance between structure and patience can be extremely challenging. I'm super proud of Elizabeth and myself (OG members!) for keeping it running through the messes-- we've been through some shit together! My major takeaway is the importance of diligence. Projects, businesses, organizations-- they all need at least a couple of people who just keep chugging along, always maintaining the structure (schedule and accountability) and balance (rules and lighthearted encouragement). 

Moth magnets

Q: As the readers are aware, Square Carousel drawing to a close soon. Do you have any plans for what you'll do with the extra time you'll have after our tri-weekly challenges end? 

 A: You know, I actually haven't thought about this too much yet. It's probably because I'll just fill it with more self-imposed projects and deadlines, since I was able to bring that skill I learned in Square Carousel into the rest of my career a while ago. (Or more real jobs! That would be ideal!) I'll miss the community though, and hope to find a way to keep that aspect of freelance life alive. Instagram friends, anyone? 

Q: What's your quirkiest habit? 

 A: Jordan told me recently that he found it weird and endearing that I joke-sing to my cats in the kitchen about really stupid stuff... so probably that! Official Cat Lady© status achieved.

Caitlin and Buster Keaton the Kitten

Q: What advice would you give to a newbie illustrator just starting out today? 

 A: I'd give them the hard advice that our professors didn't really give us in school: there is no way this is going to work out for you if you're not incredibly committed to pursuing it. Now, don't get me wrong-- I'm not telling anyone to have an unhealthy work/life balance because I think that's a toxic sentiment. But you have to keep illustrating and illustrating and illustrating, and arguably more importantly, keep networking and networking and networking. You're going to be rejected or ghosted more often than not, but if you really want it to work out, you're going to keep doing it anyway. And taking critiques if industry folks offer them, to grow and become better. Don't become stagnant in those critical building years.

Caitlin’s studio

Q: Anything else you would like the readers to know? 

A: Yes – thank you so much for supporting Square Carousel through our amazing ten years of challenges! We really appreciate everyone who has kept up with us, checking out the illustrations for each prompt and reading our posts and interviews. Y'all are wonderful, and we hope you'll continue to find us, wherever each of us fly from here! And on that sweet note, we say goodbye for now! Check out Caitlin’s website for more, and follow her on Instagram for new art when it drops.

Join us next time for our final interview!

[soobiniebaby]

Angels & Devils Part IX : Magic Hour

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

Yeonjun had been on cloud 9 the whole weekend.

Ever since he and Baby talked things out and she finally said yes to him that Friday, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from smiling. They had been texting ever since he had left her apartment.

Even the horrendously boring and rigid dinner he had with his parents that night became so much bearable since he had been texting her under the table nearly the whole time.

At the end of the day, he’d call her on FaceTime and they’d stay on video call until one of them would fall asleep.

On Saturday, he and the guys had hung out at Kai’s house. They all put together a care basket, each boy contributing a little gift or token along with a note, to wish B a speedy recovery. He had delivered it to B by the end of the day, stopping by her place for a quick visit as well.

“There’s a cute plushie from Hyuka, a novel highly recommended from Tyun, a collection of movies from Gyu, and handpicked snacks from Soobin. And there’s a get well soon card with a short message from each of us.” Yeonjun says, slowly laying out each boy’s gift in front of B. “Also, Soobin requests that you take a picture with his gift so you guys will have something to post for your project this week.” he adds.

“Alright, I’ll make sure to take a few pictures before devouring them.” B says, excitedly looking at the snacks. “Wow, these gifts are amazing. The boys are so sweet.” she says in awe, grabbing the plushie from Kai and holding it close to her chest.

“The boys? What about me? Aren’t I sweet?” Yeonjun asks.

“Well, I guess you are, but you didn’t get me a get-well-soon gift.” she says, pouting.

Yeonjun laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your get-well gift right here.” he says. When she raises a brow at him in confusion, he simply puts a finger under her chin and tilts it upward as he gives her a kiss, keeping it tender and sweet. He feels her smile against his lips and he pulls away, smiling back at her. “See? Bet you feel better already.” he says.

“Much better.” B smiles, feeling tingles all over her body. “Still no gift, though.”

Yeonjun stepped back, shocked. “Was that not enough for you? What more do you want from me?” he says, exaggeratingly putting a fist over his chest.

B laughs. “You’re so dramatic! Don’t get me wrong, your kisses are great, but I want a gift that’ll keep me from getting bored or feeling lonely while I’m on lockdown for the week. The boys’ gifts are all spot on.” she explains. “If I’m gonna be stuck alone here for the next few days, I’m gonna get bored and lonely.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the perfect gift. You’ll see.” Yeonjun says mysteriously.

B raises a brow but raises no further questions. That night, she makes sure to take pictures and sends them to Soobin, each of them creating their own social media posts for their project.

When Sunday came, B decided to plan out her week of isolation, wanting to make it as productive as possible. First, she messaged the boys to thank them for their gift basket and to beg them to help her keep up with schoolwork and lessons, which they gamely accept. She also checks her other messages and sees a few from the girls.

She finally messages them, feeling guilty upon seeing how worried they were.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun starts to make plans of his own, wanting to make sure that the coming week would be perfect.

•°•

Monday

Wanting to start her first day of missing classes on the right foot, B had managed to convince at least one of her classmates in each class to secretly have her on call during the periods, so that she could listen in on the lectures on her phone, as if she were taking an online class. She had called Taehyun for first period Economics, Kai for second period History, Yuna for third period Biology, Beomgyu for after-lunch Maths, Taehyun again for Foreign Language class, and Soobin for Creative writing class.

“Why not me?” Yeonjun had asked her with a pout when she told him her plan.

B laughed at how adorable he was. “Because Soobin is one of my closest friends, plus he’s my partner in the class, so it would make more sense if I called him. Besides, it might seem too suspicious if I called you instead of him.” she reasoned.

The whole day, B had her phone by her side as she struggled to listen to the lectures and took down her own notes as well, making sure to catch any dates for assignment deadlines or quizzes. By the time last period was over, B had gotten showered and dressed, first for a quick visit from her family doctor to check on her condition and then for some time to hang out with Ryujin, who had promised to visit since she was immune to chicken pox.

Sure enough, the doctor came by and did a quick check up of her vital signs and assessed her rashes, simply advising her not to scratch them. He was there for a maximum of 20 minutes before leaving.

At a little past 5:30 PM, Ryujin came ringing on her front door holding a box of cinnamon rolls from Kang’s Kafe.

B excitedly hugs her as soon as she opens the door to let her friend in, squealing and thanking her for the cinnamon rolls.

As they step into the apartment, Ryujin observes “Wow B, you look so happy, you’re practically glowing, and I’m pretty sure it’s not the rashes.”

B blushes and waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s probably just cause I’ve been getting a lot of sleep lately, but thanks.”

“A lot of sleep? More like a lot of Yeonjun.” Ryujin says, smiling devilishly. “Come on, tell me more about it! How are you feeling? What is it like to date him? Have you guys done anything yet?”

“Well if you must know, I feel really happy. So happy in fact that it keeps me too distracted to even think about how itchy these rashes are.” B says, rubbing her arms which had small specks of rashes. “And technically, we haven’t even gone on a date yet, but we’ve been talking a lot and he’s called me on Facetime the past 2 nights and he’s just really sweet. And no, we haven’t ‘done anything’ yet, we’ve just kissed a couple of times.”

Ryujin lets out a squeal. “Ah, it sounds so exciting! I’m so happy for you! Honestly, seeing how hard you were trying to avoid him for the past 2 weeks was hard. I wanted to shake you or something just to knock some sense into you. It was actually kinda funny seeing how stubborn you were about it, I mean he obviously liked you but anyone who knew your current situation could see that you definitely had feelings for him as well!” she laughs. “Speaking of, what have the other guys said about you 2 dating? I bet Gyu’s been teasing you 2 nonstop.” she asks, referring to the guys in the student council.

B laughs nervously. “Oh, uh, we haven’t really told anyone yet.” she admits. “I haven’t even told Ningni—I mean Hyuka, about Yeonjun asking me out at the party, so none of them have any clue about Yeonjun asking me out and me avoiding Yeonjun and everything. I’ve only told you and Yuna.”

Ryujin smacks B’s arm. “B! Why? You should’ve at least told Kai about it! Isn’t he your best friend?”

“He is, yes! It’s just hard, I mean I’ve told him about my past crushes and stuff back when we were younger, but it’s just that Yeonjun is his one of his closest friends, so it just feels kind of weird. Like it might make their friendship awkward, especially if things between me and Yeonjun don’t work out.” B says defensively.

“Please, those guys are thick as thieves, nothing could ever break their friendship apart. And stop saying that you and Yeonjun won’t work out, you’re worrying too much about something that hasn’t even happened yet or something that might not even ever happen. Instead of thinking the worst about the future, you should just try to make the most out of the present instead.” Ryujin says.

“Wow, that’s actually really good advice, Ryu.” B admits. “Fine, I promise I’ll try not to worry too much and stuff. But Yeonjun and I agreed that we’d wait until I’ve recovered enough to go back to school until we tell the guys anything about us dating.”

“Oh sweetie, he’s a guy. Heck, he’s not just a guy, he’s Choi Yeonjun. Guys like to talk about girls. And just like you’ve been talking to Yuna and I about Yeonjun, I’m pretty sure Yeonjun has been talking to at least 1 other guy about you too. The question is, which guy could he be talking to?” Ryujin wonders.

•°•

Tuesday

“So that’s what I’ve got planned out for the next few days. Well, while she’s still confined to her apartment, at least. I’ve got a whole week of stay-at-home dates and romantic stuff planned. I just want to make it as good as possible, even if she can’t leave her house.” Yeonjun says, finishing up explaining his plans in great detail. “It’s what she deserves, especially after hearing how much she struggled the past 2 weeks. I just want to make sure she won’t regret her decision to finally say yes.”

“Yeonjun, that sounds amazing.” Beomgyu says, looking at the blue-haired boy in awe. “I always knew you had your ways to woo a girl, but damn I’ve never seen you plan out something like this before. I especially like the part where you sort of kidnap her.” Beomgyu laughs. “Congrats on finally getting the ‘yes’ by the way. It was kinda killing me to see how hard the past 2 weeks have been on you too.”

“It’s what she deserves. It’s crazy cause I don’t think I’ve ever liked a girl this much before, especially since I’ve only known her for a few weeks.” Yeonjun gives him a bright smile, and Beomgyu could tell just how smitten he was.  “And thanks, Gyu. Thanks for being there for me these past couple of weeks, too. And thanks for keeping it between us.” he adds, remembering how Beomgyu had noticed how different Yeonjun had been acting, and how Yeonjun himself had finally told Beomgyu about everything.

From how Yeonjun had been watching B at the party to how Yeonjun had found himself smitten by B during their 7 minutes together to how Yeonjun had asked her out twice and even to how he had winked at her onstage. He didn’t mean to tell anyone about his feelings for their new friend so soon, but he couldn’t bear the weight of it any longer. Now he was happy to be telling Beomgyu about how he had taken care of B when she was sick and how they had finally been able to talk things out.

“Dude, you’ve got it bad.” Beomgyu says, laughing and clapping him on the back. “I have to admit, it’s a bit weird seeing you talk about a girl so much, but I can’t help but feel proud that you’ve finally found someone you genuinely seem to care for.”

Yeonjun nods. “Yes, I really do. And thanks Gyu, really. She just feels really different, I guess. And I’m hoping that the more I get to know her, the more I end up liking her, instead of the other way around. Usually with me, girls can make a strong first impression at the start but then when I try to get to know them more, they end up feeling just like everyone else. I don’t think it’ll be like that with her, though.”

“With all the things you’ve got planned for her, I highly doubt that’ll be the case.” Beomgyu says. “I’m sure she’ll love it. Go get her, Yeonjun!”

And he did.

That afternoon, he stood outside her apartment door feeling just a tiny bit nervous, his hands full, whispering and instructing the people behind him for the last time before he rang the doorbell.

“Coming!” Yeonjun could hear her yell from inside the apartment, and he smiled to himself.

He braces himself as she opens the door, and as soon as he sees her face, his heartbeat instantly speeds up.

“Hi, Baby.” he simply says as he stands in front of her with a bouquet of blue roses, the string quartet that he had hired for the afternoon starts to play a soft rendition of Euphoria by BTS.

She stands there for a moment, a hand covering her mouth as she stares in awe at the blue-haired boy before her and the blue roses he held, to the four string players holding their instruments and serenading her, until the chorus comes up and Yeonjun softly sings, “Take my hands now” as he takes one of her hands in his and squeezes it gently. “You are the cause of my euphoria.”

She unfreezes then, taking a step towards him and wrapping her arms around him to give him a hug, which was a bit of a challenge considering the dozen roses between them.

He laughs as she gives up on trying to hug him and settles on standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck instead. “You’re supposed to take the flowers first, silly.” he says.

“Yeonjun! This is just…wow.” she says, taking the flowers in her arms, they were heavier than they looked. “This is incredible. You’re incredible. This it too much, this is… just, thank you so much.” she says, flustered.

“Oh, Baby. This is nothing, don’t sweat it.” he says, savoring her reaction. If she was gonna smile this wide and get this flustered every time he made a romantic gesture like this, then the rest of the week was going to be fun.

•°•

Wednesday

B had been wondering why Yeonjun had made such a strange request that morning, but she was happy to oblige. It’s not like she had anything better to do in her apartment, and she spent most of her time listening to lectures through phone calls in her bedroom anyway. She had called the same people as she had for the past 2 days, glad that she had found a way to keep herself up to date on lectures.

She had almost forgotten about Yeonjun’s request until her last class for the day ended, and she heard sounds coming from inside her apartment. She kept her bedroom door closed the whole day, so the sound of some unknown person in her apartment was alarming.

She quickly dials up Yeonjun’s number, trying to keep herself calm and telling herself that it was probably not a dangerous intruder but rather something related to Yeonjun’s request.

“Hey Baby, what’s up?” he says, answering on the second ring.

“Hey Yeonjun, uh, I’m in my bedroom right now and I thought I heard something from inside the apartment so I was wondering if it’s something to do with what you texted me this morning or if there really is an intruder and I should call the police.” she says, trying to sound causal and calm.

Yeonjun laughs on the other end, which causes B to relax a bit. “You are adorable. Very smart and safe that you checked with me first though, everytime you hear strange noises in your apartment, call me right away okay?” he says. “For now, don’t worry though, I promise you’re safe. It’s part of the plan, I asked some people to help me set up for our date today. Sorry for making you panic, I should’ve given you a heads up.”

B scoffs. “Psh, I was not panicking. I’m just being very smart and safe, like you said.” she says. “What kind of date requires you to ask for help to set up though? What exactly do you have planned for today?”

“Now why would I tell you that? You’ll find out in about an hour anyway, but for now, promise me you’ll stay in your room until I tell you it’s safe okay? If not, you’ll spoil the surprise.” he says.

B nods. “Yeah sure, I can do that.” she says, even though the curiosity was killing her. What kind of date did Yeonjun have planned now?

Just then, B hears a voice from Yeonjun’s end of the call. “Hey YJ, you want me to ride with you to Kang’s? Or should I ride with Soobin?” Beomgyu asks.

“Hop right into the car, I’ll just finish up this call.” Yeonjun responds. “Hey Baby, gonna grab a quick snack at Kang’s with the boys before I head to your place. I’ll make it quick, so try not to miss me too much.” he says.

“Don’t worry, it’s the rest of the guys that I really miss anyway.” she says teasingly. “It’s only been a few days, but I haven’t seen them in forever.”

“Oh? So since you’ve been seeing me almost everyday now, you don’t miss me? Yeonjun says, and B could practically hear him pouting from the phone.

She laughs. “Don’t be silly, you know I miss you too.”

Yeonjun laughs too. “I miss you too. See you in about an hour, alright? And wear something nice.” he simply says before hanging up.

“Was that her? Was that B?” Beomgyu asks as Yeonjun gets into the car, joining him in the back seat before the car starts to move, taking them to Kang’s café.

Yeonjun nods. “Yeah, she was worried cause she heard a noise in her apartment but I told her it’s just the dinner people.”

Beomgyu raises a brow. “The dinner people? Wait, which date is this? The one where you hire people to set up the apartment in like a super romantic—”

“Yes yes, it’s that one.” Yeonjun said, amused at how excited Beomgyu was, remembering that he told Beomgyu about all his date plans for the week. “I’m a little worried that it might be a bit too much? What do you think?”

Beomgyu laughs. “Honestly, what you’ve got planned for today is…small compared to what you’ve got planned for Thursday or Friday. Considering she’s not supposed to leave her apartment, it’ll be a challenge to pull off too.”

“Oh, I asked her doctor about it and he said that as long as she’s very careful about who she comes in contact with and limits exposure as much as possible, then technically I can take her out. Just a matter of how and where I do it.” Yeonjun says confidently. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, I can pull it off.”

Beomgyu gives him a smile and a pat on the back. “I’m sure you can, Yeonjun. Don’t worry about sticking around at Kang’s either, you can leave as soon as you want, I’ll back you up. Try not to keep her waiting, you know?” he says supportively.

“Thanks, Gyu. I’ll just order something for takeout and I’ll go.”

•°•

B takes a deep breath and straightens out her dress one last time before finally opening her bedroom door and taking a step into her living area.

And she was immediately rendered speechless.

The place looked almost unrecognizable. The furniture had been moved around to make space in the middle of the room for her small round dining table and 2 chairs. The lights were all off, the apartment illuminated solely by candlelight, with tea candles and blue rose petals scattered all over the apartment, carefully sprawled all across the floor and sprinkled on the furniture. The table was set up for 2, with delicious-looking dishes already in place and a bottle of white wine along with a flower arrangement and 2 candles in the center.

She could hear the string quartet from yesterday from within the apartment, and after letting her eyes adjust to the dim light and looking around she could see that they were hidden away in the kitchen, softly playing their rendition of Home by Michael Buble.

Then Yeonjun reveals himself, he was waiting right outside her bedroom door, and he holds out a hand to her. “Han Baby, I know it’s a bit early, but would you do me the honour of having dinner with me?” he says grandly.

B lets out a laugh, looking at him in awe. “It would be my pleasure, Choi Yeonjun.” she says, taking his hand.

He smiles back at her and leads her to the dining table, pulling out her chair and letting her sit before joining her.

“I’m not sure what food you’d like, but I got garlic butter baked salmon, chicken kievs, Caesar salad, a bottle of Moscato and a serving of chocolate covered strawberries for dessert.” Yeonjun says, presenting the table on the food.

“Wow, they all look so good.” B says, feeling her mouth start to water. “How did you do all this? How did you put this all together?”

“Well, I had a bit of help, of course.” Yeonjun says, pouring the wine. “I asked my driver Hwall and some help from home to bring over the food, move the furniture and set up the candles and flowers. And the string quartet, whom you’ve met yesterday, are a few friends from my old school.” he says, giving a quick salute to the four string players in the kitchen, who warmly smiled back at him. “I hope you didn’t mind having strangers in your apartment, I’m sorry if you got scared. I should have been more considerate.”

B accepts the glass of champagne but shakes her head. “Yeonjun, it’s fine. I trust that you’re being careful and that you wouldn’t compromise my safety. This is all very lovely, thank you.” she says, reaching over the table to take his hand and gently squeezing it.

He smiles warmly at her. “Thank you for trusting me. I’m glad you like it.” he says, once again savouring the moment. The warmth in her eyes as she looked at him, her initial shock upon seeing the dinner set up, how good it felt to have her hand in his, and just everything about her in general.

Since he couldn’t be out too late on a school night without raising suspicion from his father, he wanted to make the most out of every minute. From sharing the most compelling yet laughably random conversations over dinner, to the sickeningly sweet banter over dessert, to the intimacy of slow dancing in her living room.

He made sure to bid his friends from the string quartet goodbye and help B with putting her furniture back in place before calling up Hwall and letting him know it was time for him to go.

As she walks him out of her apartment, lingering by the doorway for just a moment to say goodbye.

“You know, you never cease to amaze me, Choi Yeonjun. I’m starting to think there’s nothing you can’t do.” she says, as he stands outside her door. “Except fly, of course.”

Yeonjun smiles at her quizzically. “What makes you think I can’t fly?” he asks playfully, pulling her closer.

“Because you’re only human?” she says, laughing. “Besides, I don’t want a boy who can fly. I just want you.” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Aw, Baby, you’re so sweet.” Yeonjun says, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Now, let’s say I could fly, would you still want me then?”

“And you’re so silly! Of course I would.” she laughs, stroking his hair. “But for now, I think you have to go.” she says, seeing his driver standing by from the corner of her eye.

“I’m afraid I do.” he says, giving a quick nod to Hwall before completely wrapping his arms around B’s waist and holding her tight, which causes her to squeal.

“See you tomorrow?” he says, finally letting go.

She nods. “See you tomorrow.” she says, waving him off and watching him walk away.

Right before he gets into his car, he takes one last look up at B’s apartment, and he’s pleasantly surprised to see her still standing outside, a hand on her chest as she smiled to herself, spinning in place a couple times before walking back into her apartment and closing the floor behind her.

He couldn’t wait to see how she’d react for what dates he had planned next.

•°•

Thursday

With Yeonjun’s simple request, once again, B didn’t really know what to expect.

She certainly wasn’t expecting to be ambushed at her front door with a bouquet or blue roses and to be serenaded by a string quartet on Tuesday, and she definitely wasn’t expecting her apartment to feel like a romantic 5 star restaurant yesterday, but his request for today’s date caught her so off guard that she couldn’t help but to overthink.

Wear something comfy?

What did he mean by that? What kind of date would entail such a simple request? Would it be something as simple as staying in and watching movies together? Knowing Yeonjun, it probably wasn’t.

While still keeping track of lectures through cellphone calls, she spent more of the overthinking about what kind of date Yeonjun could have possibly planned for the day, and what kind of outfit she’d be wearing.

At the end of the day, she decides to message her girl friends for help once again.

And right as she finishes fixing herself up, she hears the doorbell ring. She calls out “Just a second!” and quickly swipes on some blush to finish the look before running up to the front door and opening it.

“Hey, Baby.” Yeonjun says, smiling at her. “You look nice. You definitely found the perfect balance between cute and comfy.” he says, checking out her outfit.

“Hey Yeonjun! Thanks.” she says, smiling back. Just as she opens the door wider, ready to welcome him into the apartment, he takes her completely by surprise and says “Come on, let’s go.”

She blinks once, twice, still surprised. “Let’s go? Go, uh, where?”

“You’ll see. C’mon, put on some shoes and grab your things. Hwall’s waiting for us downstairs.” he says casually.

“Go? Where? And how? I mean, I’m still highly contagious, my doctor said I couldn’t leave—” B starts, still a bit dumfounded.

“I’ve cleared this with your doctor. Yes, you’re still possibly highly contagious, but where we’re going, there won’t be anyone for you to infect.” he says.

Confused, B decides to put on a pair of sneakers and grab a small sling bag before locking her apartment door behind her.

“Ah, before I forget.” Yeonjun says, rummaging through his bag before pulling out a surgical face mask wrapped in plastic. “You’ll have to put this on for now. Safety reasons.” he explains, handing it to her.

She obliges, and once the face mask is secured, he grabs her hand and leads her to the car.

•°•

“So…where are we going?” B asks for what feels like the hundredth time.

“You’ll see.” Yeonjun responds for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Are you kidnapping me? Should I be worried?” B asks. “Hey, Hwall, is he kidnapping me? Should I be worried?”

Yeonjun’s driver Hwall looks at her through the rear-view mirror as he drives. “I assure you, with sir Yeonjun, you’re in good hands.” he simply says.

B lets out a huff. “You didn’t answer either of my questions, but fine, I trust you.” she says, looking out the window and noticing how unfamiliar everything looked. They were now going uphill and had a fairly decent view of the town. “Wow, I am just now realizing just how little I know about this place. I mean, I just moved here, and all I know is how to get to school and back.”

Yeonjun laughs. “I don’t blame you, but it’s practically the opposite for me since I’ve lived here since I was a kid.” he says. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you around the whole town pretty soon.”

B gives him a curious look but doesn’t say anything. She continues to look out the window for the rest of the ride, noticing how high up they were going. Once they reach the top of the cliff, the car suddenly pulls over and stops, causing her to look around excitedly.

“Is this it? Are we here? Where are we?” she says excitedly, trying to look around for any clue as to what Yeonjun had planned for their date. All she could see, however, was the edge of the cliff and how high above the town they were.

“Huh, I guess we got here a bit early.” Yeonjun says, looking out the window. “Molang isn’t here yet.”

“Molang? Who’s Molang?” B asks, raising a brow.

Just then, she notices a low whirring noise, not knowing what it was or where it was coming from. She notices the sound getting louder and louder, until a helicopter comes into view.

As she spots the helicopter flying in and slowly approaching them, her jaw drops. “No way.”

Yeonjun laughs as he stares at her, amused by her reaction. “Yes way. Baby, this is Molang. My beautiful Airbus ACH175 helicopter.” he says, waving at the pilot through the window, who raised a hand back to acknowledge him. “And that’s Sunwoo, our pilot for today.”

“Yeonjun, I—” B starts, but she doesn’t really know what to say. “I—”

He laughs again. “Are you ready to fly?”

B simply nods, staring at the helicopter that was now landing in very close to proximity to where the car was parked. Once Yeonjun opens the door for her and she steps out, that’s when she notices that they were parked next to a helicopter pad situated right by the edge of the cliff.

“Okay, so, helicopter? How?” she manages to say, still struggling to put together coherent words. She could feel the end of her cropped sweater flapping around her torso as they came closer to the helicopter

“Let’s just say that there are a lot of perks that comes with being the sole heir to my father’s business.” he answers, almost yelling to be heard above the noise, taking her hand as they approach the helicopter.

They take the proper precautions and double check everything to make sure that they were securely strapped in, with Sunwoo the pilot briefing them on basic safety protocols and informing them of how they can communicate via the headsets provided.

Yeonjun buckles B into the backseat himself, making sure that she was strapped in tight and taking off her face mask, telling her “Don’t worry, I asked and made sure that Sunwoo is already immune to chickenpox beforehand, so you being contagious won’t be a problem.” before stealing a quick kiss and securing her headset. Next, Sunwoo helps him buckle up next to B, making all the necessary safety checks before they take off.

“Are you afraid of heights, Baby?” Yeonjun’s voice suddenly rings into B’s headset.

“No.” she replies, looking at him and squeezing his hand tight as she feels the vehicle lift off into the air. She wasn’t exactly scared, but she wasn’t expecting to leave the ground when she woke up that morning.

The view was simply breathtaking. She had flown in airplanes before, and as much as she enjoyed being at airports and taking the window seat, but nothing could compare to seeing the small town from a thousand feet in the air.

Below them, the world looked green and blue, the town highlighted by the abundantly green trees and the river that surrounded it.

Throughout the ride, Yeonjun had begun to point out the most random things to B. From the park where he won his first soccer match in when he was in the 5th grade, to the building that his father owned which he absolutely hated. He told her endless stories of the places he’d run away to when he felt like escaping, and stories of the places he’s learned to love the most after years of living in one place.

As the sun started to set, the city lights started to light up slowly, then all at once.

“Wow, this is amazing. It feels like magic.” B says, staring in awe at the town below them, now illuminated in hundreds of shining lights.

“Magic hour, when the sun sets and all the lights start to turn on.” Yeonjun agrees.

B could feel her neck start to ache from keeping it outstretched the whole time as she tried her best to look out the window, drinking in as much of the view as she could.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun had his eyes on her the whole time.

•°•

Friday

Just then, B hears her doorbell ringing.

She yells out “Coming! Just a minute!” before getting up and making sure she was appropriately dressed before making her way to the front door.

As bummed out as she was about their her supposed last stay-at-home date with Yeonjun being cancelled, she also couldn’t help but feel curious about what could have possible come up that Yeonjun had to cancel it.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she forgot to check through the peephole before opening her apartment door, and as soon as she saw the person standing on the other side, she felt her heart skip a beat.

“Baba!” Kai exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Surprise!” he says, before engulfing her in a hug.

She unfreezes then, her mind in scrambles, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Ningning! What are you doing here? And why are you hugging me, step away from me, you might get chickenpox!” she exclaims, trying to pull away from his embrace.

“Actually, I’m here because I have chicken pox.” he admits, subtly rubbing his arms, which B suspected were covered in itchy red rashes. “A few people from school have started to show symptoms, actually, myself included.”

“Oh my god, you have chicken pox? Are you okay? Did any of the other guys get it?” she asks, concerned.

Kai shakes his head. “I’m fine, just a little itchy. And no, as far as I can tell, it’s just me so far. The school’s in chaos now, everyone’s starting to show up to school wearing face masks and spraying alcohol every 5 mintues. Everyone’s afraid of the chicken pox.” he says, shivering.

“That sounds disastrous.” she comments. “So what brings you here exactly?”

Kai grins. “Well, since I have chicken pox now, and you’ve had chicken pox now, and no one else in my family has had chicken pox so I’d be a major health threat to them, I was wondering if I could maybe…stay with you?” he asks sheepishly.

“Oh, like we could quarantine together?” B asks. “I was actually medically cleared by my doctor already so I can come back to school on Monday but I’d love to have you here! Why not?” she says, squealing excitedly as she hugs her bestfriend.

Kai laughs happily. “Oh thank god, Lea practically kicked me out of the house and sprayed me with alcohol the whole time when I got sent home from school. I was able to grab a few of my things before I was banished from my own home.” he says, relieved.

“Oh, you poor thing.” she says, ruffling his hair. “Come on in, I’ll make sure the guest bedroom is clean and ready for you.” she says, welcoming him into her apartment.

“Thanks, Baba! Oh, I’m so excited, I’ve missed you so much! I haven’t seen you in a whole week.” Kai says, whining. “I can’t wait to catch up with you. Honestly, MOA has felt so boring without you so there’s not much I have to say. But I can’t wait to hear all about how you spent your week!”

B laughs hesitantly. “Oh, psh, there’s not much to tell you either.” she says weakly.

“Don’t say that, I’m sure spending a week at home felt like a mini vacation! So tell me, what did you do the whole week?” Kai starts, as they enter the guest room.

I’ve been going on dates with our dear friend Yeonjun B thought to herself, though she knew she couldn’t bring herself to just tell her bestfriend about it.

So what could she tell him about her week?

[mxtantrights]

˚ · . · ✵PART THIRTY-THREE

word count: 2k

warnings: crying ( happy tears) and winer hats??

HAWKINS, INDIANA

APRIL 1985

It was nice day for lounging. And that's what I was doing. My eyes closed, taking in the soft wind coming from the open window.

Jonathan and I were hanging out around the school even though it was over for the day. He was using the dark room for his pictures still and wanted to develop some before the day was over.  We have plans to get some food after, so I'm just chilling inside his car until he's done.

Well not chilling per say. College acceptances would be going out soon. I was freaking out on the inside- for me, Steve, Nancy and Jon. I know I didn't need to worry about everyone but it just happens sometimes. I wanna see everyone get what they want you know?

"Jessie?"

I sit up and open my eyes at the sound of my name. I recognize the voice even though it's not one that I've heard in a while. Or one that I wanted to hear.

Billy Hargrove.

"Hi?" It comes out more of a question- because the last time we talked it ended with him almost punching me and him being knocked out.

"I just wanted to apologize to you, formally. I know that night I-" He begins to explain himself. Like I wasn't there. Like I wasn't there when he beat on Steve, almost beat on Lucas and me. So I cut him off.

"I don't forgive you. Honestly I don't know if I really can," I start and I see his face drop. He doesn't look sad, instead he looks just like understands. "We can't be friends Billy. But we can be civil for your sister."

He nods his head. "Right. Civil."

"We've only got two more months until we don't have to run into each other in the hallways, or the parking lot. Seems fair doesn't it?" I ask him even though it's rhetorical. All I ever was going to be was civil with him.

"Yeah Jessie, it's fair. See you around." He puts swiftly and then he's gone like he never appeared.

I sit back in my seat but I keep my eyes open. Not that he's gonna come back and punch me or something. Just to watch him actually leave. It wasn't easy seeing him in the hallways after that night happened.

But I dealt with it because he and I didn't talk to one another.

And it's not like were gonna be friends now. Just civil for Max's sake. I don't need bad blood spilling onto me and Max's friendship. Or her and Mickey's.

-

"I swear you guys are so cute. If everyone in their right mind could see it, they'd vote you as best couple." I speak as I dip my fries into the ketchup.

He laughed in between bites of his burger.

"So when are you expecting the acceptance letters?"

I almost choke on my fry. It was like he could read my mind or something. I look over at him a little shocked at first. "Dude are you in my head?"

"It's written all over your face today."

"Yeah well, I think they're coming soon. And I really don't know how I did, I didn't even apply to schools for music-"

"What? Why didn't you apply for music? It's all you do." He cuts me off and asks.

I wince a bit at having admitted that out loud and I grab handful of fries. I didn't tell anyone except my dad. I had missed the pre-screening additions for most of the schools. And that meant that I had no chance at auditions.

So basically applying as a music major was out the window. I had to apply to just the schools instead of both the school and the music school. Which meant that I could still get in but I would have to wait to audition again.

Also meaning that I'd be going someplace far away from here for no reason yet.

"I missed the cut off. But it's fine, I still applied. I can take care of the rest if I get accepted." I explain with a mouth full of fries. Jonathan is giving me a look like he didn't catch what I said so I say it again. This time with my mouth not full.

"I think you mean when you get accepted." He corrects.

I roll my eyes. "Thanks Jon."

"No thank you, I can't believe I'm friends with the soon to be Famous Jessie Glendall."

-

"I figured I should get a job-" I begin to explain but the sound of forks and knives clattering onto plates makes me stop and flinch a bit. What was so shocking about me getting a job? "Me getting a job isn't breaking news."

My dad clears his throat and picks back up his fork. He's blinking oddly for a few seconds. "Wow I mean, I just wasn't expecting it. Not to say I didn't think you could get a job- you know I wouldn't think that. It's just.."

"That means I can go places by myself." Mickey sort of mumbles loud enough for us to hear. When he looks at the both of us and sees that we did in fact hear him he stands from his seat. "I have freedom!"

"Hey!"  I yell at him, picking up a piece of broccoli from my plate and throwing it at him.

I miss him by an inch because he swerves.

"No- Jessie-" My dad starts to scold me.

But it's too late. I'm picking up another piece and throwing it. This time it impacts with Mickey's head. He of course plays the dramatics and makes drops to the floor in 'pain'.

I roll my eyes at his performance. "Oh bite me, get off the floor."

"Jessie can you please not throw vegetables at your brother," My dad points his hand to my seat, for me to take. I take it as he then looks at my brother. "Mickey can you sit down and not wave your possible new found freedom in front of your sister's face?"

I watch closely as Mickey gets up from the floor and slides into his seat.

"That mall is gonna be opening up soon and I think I'll apply to a few places and see which one takes me." I continue.

Mickey snickers. "Are you gonna work at a Weiner place?"

"Jessie please don't throw anything at your brother."

I squint my eyes at my brother. "I'll give you a wedgie so hard that you won't have a wenie."

"Hey!" Mickey yelps and I see the fear in his eyes. "Dad! She can't say that!"

I mock him in another voice.

"Jessie please don't apply to any weiner places, for the sake of the house."

"Fine."

HAWKINS, INDIANA

APRIL 1985

I'm fiddling with my hands again. I don't know what to say. It's like I didn't want thing same things for myself as I did before. Before everything happened. And I feel like if I say that then I'm gonna be told that I'm holding back, or not letting go.

"Tell me what's on your mind." Lisa's voice calls out.

I look up at her now.

"I want," I begin but my breath hikes in my throat. "I just want to be with my family. Music is important to me but not as much as them. At least for the first year."

Lisa nods her head at me and holds her finger up. She ducks down into her cabinet and pulls out a piece of paper. She slides it over on her desk towards me with a small smile on her lips, then holds her hands together.

Hawkins Community college?

"You dad filled out a copy in early January before the deadlines. This is a photocopy. " She explains to me as I pick up the paper. It's an application form like the ones me and her filled out together in December.

Except it's in his handwriting. And it's for Hawkins Community college.

"He filled this out for me?" I ask.

She nods her head. "Now he wasn't supposed to, but I may have helped and sent it in. You father was supposed to tell you, so you would know. Since, you know, what we did was not really legal."

I can't help to laugh at that. My dad and my college counselor possibly committed a minor crime for me. It sounds a little crazy, but trust me I know crazy.

"But why would he fill it out if-" The doubt starts to sink in quickly.

"He does believe in you, don't doubt that for a moment sweetheart. I had to pry it out of him but he told me it was because he wanted you close," She gets up from her swivel chair and takes a seat next to me, and takes my hand. "Said it was awfully selfish of him, but a big part of him just couldn't stand to see his little 'Jess Odess' go so far away."

"He's such a smother sometimes." I laugh at my own joke and so does she.

"Look, let's wait until you get all your options first. Then you can decide. And if you choose to tay here the community college is a great start for music. It could be your launch pad whenever you're ready to launch."

"Thank you, thank you so much Lisa."

-

"Why do your eyes look puffy and red?"

If it were anyone else I would try to hide it. Try to sniffle my nose and rub my eyes to get rid of the evidence that I was crying. Not that I don't like crying. I'm just not the best at accepting more than a hug from someone.

But it was Steve. I knew he wouldn't give me any shit for crying.

He sits next to me on the outside bench, shoulder to shoulder.

"I was just with Lisa, talking about schools and stuff." I answer.

"Is everything okay?"

I nod my head vigorously at him and I can even feel my eyes watering again. "Yeah Steve. Everything is fine."

He pulls me into a hug and I do the same to him. "These are happy tears? We love happy tears."

I can hear my laugh a little bit over the commotion of outside. It was lunch so that meant the middle school was playing outside. And the highschoolers were hanging around or trying to skip to get real food.

"Yeah we do," I pull away from him and his face reminds me of what I wanted to ask him. "Oh I almost forgot- I'm gonna be applying for jobs in the mall."

"Really?"

"Okay what is it with everyone being surprised that I want to get a job?" I let out a playful sigh. It was kind of funny that people were shocked that I'd want a job. Maybe because they thought I was some superstar.

"No no no- it's not that I'm surprised, I'm more happy than surprised actually." He starts of sputtering like a car engine until he gets it right. I nod along to his answer.

"Happy for me possibly working at a place where I'd have to wear a hot dog on my head?" I rest my hand on the top of my head with a finger pointing up. It's really creative imagery, as creative as I can get.

His face scrunches up as he laughs at my impromptu weiner hat.

"I mean yeah, I might be working there this summer too." He adds and that makes me shocked. I figured if Steve ever wanted a job he'd just slum it at his dad's place. I know he probably wouldn't want to but it beats wearing a weird job outfit.

Steve in a weiner hat.

I laugh at the mental image in my head. "I just imagined you in a weiner hat and I have to say, not too bad."

"Not too bad, what about my hair?"

"Calm down pretty boy there's more to you than your hair."

[taotrooper]

Q&A with Kusanagi-sensei at the Manga Barcelona con

Kusanagi Mizuho was a guest on the Barcelona con 2019 and she had a panel with the fans this morning where they asked her some questions. None of them are plot-related, sadly (I suspect the questions sent by fans were heavily filtered to avoid spoilers). But if you’re curious about the personal and professional stuff she’s said, and her opinion about her characters, here’s a translation of the livetweeting by the manga’s publisher, Norma Editorial, which is here. I’m also complementing with Ramen Para Dos’ liveblogging.

Kusanagi requested not to have her picture taken. Except for those lucky few Spaniards and Catalanes who attended the panel, she’ll remain a meerkat to us. (Parenthesis notes are my commentary, not part of the interview!)

Q. When did you decide to start drawing?

A. She started to draw when she was around 9-10 years old. She’d make up complete stories she’d read her younger sister --who also came to the con.

Q. What was her favorite manga back then? And now?

A. She really liked Slam Dunk, Hana Yori Dango, and Ranma 1/2 when she was little. It seems she’s into redhead protagonists, Norma jokes. Right now she likes One Piece and Attack on Titan.

Q. Did she study in any sort of academy? Has she worked as an assistant? 

A. She went to art school (she specifies not manga, art) and was an assistant after graduating for 4-5 years.

Q. What does she currently delegated to her assistants?

A. She works with 4-5 people. They take care of drawing landscapes, armor, plates of food, extra things... They also help a lot with combat scenes: she’s the one who draws the basic battle panels but they finish them.

Q. Does she find it hard to make it to deadlines?

A. She laughed. Handing in chapters is so hard because she takes a long time to design the story, so she only dedicates 3 or 4 days to draw 30 pages because she has no time left.

(Yikes, poor Kusanagi D: )

Q. Does she like to listen to something or snack while she works? 

A. When she’s working on the story she needs total silence and being alone, but while she draws she likes to put on anime or movies or music as background noise.

Q. Where does Ao keep her acorns?

A. Squirrels usually carry 7 acorns in their mouths. Ao brings 10 at least!

(Oh no, she’s too OP!!!!)

Q.  Hak or Soo-Won? 

A. She laughs and assures us she has a lot of love for both of them.

Q. How did she come up with the manga’s setting?

A. At first she thought about basing it on Rome or Japan, but it didn’t fit. So in the end she combined different Asian scenarios to give birth to AkaYona.

(So... yeah, it’s not 100% Three Kingdoms Korea, it’s a hybrid. Also lol she really likes Rome, huh?)

Q. Does she have a favorite character? 

A. NE: She doesn’t have a favorite, she loves all of them and loves to draw them so they look as good-looking as possible when they look at themselves in the mirror.

RP2: When she creates a story centered in one character, she tries to focus all details on said character. But she feels appreciation for all characters in Akatsuki no Yona. Then there’s a character’s personality or some enemy that’s not liked by the audience and that motivates her to draw them more handsome.

(Well, that sure explains Keishuk becoming more luscious lately, but THEN THERE’S GOBI’S CRAZY FACES.....................)

Q. Does she feel identified with any of her characters?

A. All of her characters reflect part of her own idols so they don’t really represent her that much.

(Damn, there she goes debunking the Kusa-relates-to-SW jokes)

Q. Which dragon would she take on a journey if she had to go on adventures like Yona?

A. She’d like to take the four of them but if she had to choose she’d pick Jae-Ha. He’s kind to women and he can jump really high!

(Jae-ha bias confirmed. We been knew, sensei, we been knew.

“HE JUMP” - Mizuho Kusanagi, 2019)

Q. The reveal of Zeno’s powers is one of the most amazing scenes in the series. How was it for her? 

A. She was looking forward to drawing it. She doesn’t like its brutality but it was necessary to express its importance. Regardless, she enjoyed it a lot.

Q. How does she feel about thinking of Yona as a strong, inspirational female character?

A. NE says that to her Yona is an ordinary girl, what makes her special is that she’s a fighter (the wording here is implied to be in a hardworking, fighting daily way, not as a warrior necessarily). Life taught her to be strong and positive and she thinks that’s very important. RP2 says that the character herself is normal but to her, Yona’s strength and courage to move forward is what stand out and inspires.

She got an ovation from the audience at this point :’)

Q. How does she feel about having so many fans overseas? 

A. She’s very happy and grateful! She’s so surprised to see so many people (women and men) around the world and outside of Japan who understand and enjoy Yona’s vision. She thanks us all so much!

(Aww~)

Q. What does she do in her free time?

A. She loves to spend time with her cat. But she ends up annoying her cat sometimes, and she (the kitty) scratches her (Kusanagi) often.

Q. This one was for her editor, called Tokushige. Wat is it like to work with Kusanagi-sensei with a manga like Yona?

A. She says she knows the author’s job is very hard with a terrible pace and schedule. Despite that she has to be tough and mean to help Kusanagi with keeping the schedule and the quality. But while it’s touch she likes working with her/looks forward to it.

In the next part, they have Kusanagi ask the audience a question, and she throws the favorite character question back at them! There’s no recount of what people in the room said (besides the fact it took a long time for someone to say Hak and she remarked on that) but NE asked Twitter as well and you can see the answers on the thread.

(Since I slept through the interview, I missed the chance to tell her mine D: Shoutout to the MVPs in the thread who mentioned Yoon and Tae-jun in a sea of Haks and Yonas and Jae-has and Zenos. And the two cosplayers who went there as Argila and Vold!)

ETA: This livetweeting mentioning some characters the fans threw in. Yona, Hak, TAE-JUN several times, Soo-won, Geun-tae, Kija, squirrel Ao, and ship-wise besides HakYona there’s a Zeno/Kaya mention.

So anyway, that was all. Kusanagi brought presents for the selected people who won her signature (a case with Aos on it) plus a few more unknown presents (probably also those cases) to raffle on the Q&A with a jankenpon game. That was sweet of her!

Extra info I’ve seen: she had to take THREE planes to get to Spain from Kyushu. They also gave her her two consecutive awards to Best Shoujo by that same con, which they do yearly with the manganime that gets published here. They also gave her a soccer shirt of the famous local team (Barça) with her name on the back (10/Mizuho).

[iresecho]

FRACTURED

hey! here’s a draft of a story i wrote recently. feel free to give it a read (it’s only a mere 1500 words) and let me know what you think! 

oh, and about that word count? this short was for my class, so please bear with it. i understand it is very minimal for the amount of substance it contains. i hope you enjoy it regardless though! i’ll upload a finished version once i’ve completed it. any and all suggestions/critiques are welcome! pls be nice :)

Genre: Creative Fiction

Word Count: 1520

!TW: MULTIPLE DEATHS, BLOOD!

I sigh as I tap my pencil repeatedly on the table, the rubber nub of what’s left of the eraser pinging the oak beneath it. What’s it missing? There’s gotta be something missing I ponder to myself. I’ve been working on this poem for ages, but I still feel like it isn’t ready for this contest. I switch back to the website and read the headline ‘Do you want to become a new up and coming writer? Enter this contest to win!’ It’s the New York Times contest for a new up-coming author, and the grand prize would be enough to pay off my entire debt, and then some. I’ve had this poem written for awhile now, yet I still don’t think that it’s ready. I’ve read it over a million times, and I can’t seem to find what it’s missing. My mother was never too fond of my writing, but my father always loved it. He loved everything I did. My father’s always been proud of what I’ve done, and what I do. He’s never once shamed me for choosing what I believe in, and what I’m passionate about. I glance down at the gold-crested penguin pendant around my neck, lifting my hand up to grasp the cool metal. I smile as the memory it holds replays through my head. It was a gift from my father for my tenth birthday. He bought our family tickets to Disney World to celebrate, and purchased this necklace for me after I had mentioned several times in the gift shop how much I wanted it. Ever since it’s been my favourite animal. I hold it in my palm tightly, fingers grazing over the smooth, yet rigid surface of the pendant as I reach for my cell phone beside my open laptop. I begin to scroll through the messages between me and my father, a fond smile appearing on my lips as I read through the texts:

--

YESTERDAY

Dad: Hey, honey! How’s the poem coming along for the contest?

Me: it’s okay… I still feel like there’s something that it needs. I just can’t               figure it out

Dad: When is the deadline to submit?

Me: tonight at 6

Dad: I’m sure you will figure it out sweetheart. You’re a great writer. Love                 you kiddo Xoxo.

Me: thanks dad, love you too

--

I smile again as I set down my phone, peering back to the computer screen before me. What seems like minutes go by and I get lost in the words in front of me. I jump as my phone begins to vibrate loudly on the table. I can’t help but shut my eyes for a second to brace myself:

“Hello?” I answer. 

“Hello, what are you doing right now?”

 It’s my mother. Great. She’s probably at work.

“Working on my poem for the contest, why?”

 “....” There’s silence on the other end of the line. I wait a few moments, then,

“Mom?” 

“...Huh? Oh, sorry. What did you say?” 

“Forget it.” 

“....”  More silence. She does this every time. Doesn’t it bother you?

“Are you still at the hospital?” 

“....” I’ve had it. 

“MOM!!” I yell. 

“What? Oh sorry honey, what were you saying?” 

“Why do you do this to me every time? You never listen to me! You’re always on a call or too busy for me anyway!” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just hard for me when I’m at work sometimes honey but I promise I want to hear it.” 

This is always her excuse. It’s always just too ‘hard’ for her to actually have a conversation with her only daughter. It’s always about work for her.

“You know what. Forget it. Call me when you have time for your daughter.” I hang up the phone.

Ugh she makes me so mad! Why does she never listen to me? First it was denying my talent for writing and trying to force me to go down some boring nine-to-five career hole I’d never get out of, now this?

I peer around my dingy, one bedroom apartment. Maybe she’s right. You’ve been living off chickpeas out of a can and barely surviving. I mean, look at you? You have barely any food in your fridge, and your ‘apartment’ is broken down and disgusting! What did you think your BA in English would get you anyway? You’ve been searching for a job in your field for a while, and still no opportunity has come up. Maybe your mother was right. Maybe you should have studied law. Maybe she would have listened to you then. Maybe you should have listened to her—

--

Me: hey dad, can I talk to you?

Dad: Sure honey, is something wrong?

Me: it’s mom, she’s always too busy to listen to what I have to say. it’s like           talking to a brick wall

Dad: I’m sorry honey, but your mom is pretty busy at work. Maybe on her          break?

Me: i’ve tried. she even calls me and then doesn’t listen! I feel like she hates         me...

Dad: No she doesn't sweetheart, she loves you. And so do I. Xoxo.

Me: I love you too, dad        where are you now?        dad?        helloooooo?

--

Ugh, now my own father is too busy for me too? I guess no one has time for me. Or maybe, I’m just not enough for them. Maybe I’m just some big disappointment, maybe—just take a nap, you’re probably stressed from being tired.

I’m abruptly awoken out of my slumber when my phone goes off loudly. I scramble to find it on my bedside table, slamming my hand down repeatedly to try and locate the device. I manage to pinpoint the phone, and hold it up before me. I squint at the screen, scowling at the newfound brightness and see the word “MOM” in bright bold text. I press accept and hold the phone up to my ear: 

“Hello?” 

I can hear her sobbing on the other end of the line. I sit up straight in bed, eyes wide with worry as I stare at the dark matter in front of me. 

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?” 

“Honey, your dad’s been in an accident.” 

“What? What do you mean?” 

I start to shake, eyes brimming with panic, heart banging against my chest as I wait for her response after an ill-conceived sob:

“He was driving on the highway, and um—I found his phone and he was texting you while driving and he swerved into the other lane and he—” 

“What, he what?!” 

“He’s dead.”

I drop the phone to my side as my life starts caving from the exterior in. I lose my breath as the realization sets in. How did you let this happen? How could you? 

“No.” 

A single tear streams from my face.

“NO!” 

I sob as I wail into the darkness of my room, hands covering my flooding sockets as I scream. A steady river forms blurring my vision for what seems like eternity. I stay like this for a while. You did this. You killed him. 

“I’m so sorry”.

I pace back and forth, raking fingers through my hair, tears streaming down my face as I try and accept the truth. How could I have let this happen? I’m the reason he’s gone, if I just would’ve called him instead, maybe things would have been different. I press my spine against the cool tile of the bathroom wall as I stare at my dishevelled reflection. You’re disgusting. I slam my fist against the mirror, shattering the glass littering shards throughout the room. My eyes begin to pour, as does my bleeding hand from the impact. I look below me at my feet, peering at my skewed reflection through the broken, bloody pieces. I’m sorry dad, this is all my fault. I’m so sorry.

--

“Thank you all for coming”. 

I watch my mother from the church pew seven rows back, wiping her tears as she stabilizes herself on the podium. The room is dimly lit, filled with a few dozen family members I haven’t seen since infanthood. The white, flowered casket sits perpendicular to my mother on the stage behind her. 

“She was always so driven” I hear her say. “She was stubborn,” she laughs, “but we all loved her the same.”

She takes a few new tissues from the funeral-gifted box, looking at my graduation picture surrounded with white roses, taking a breath before starting again with a shaky voice:

“It hasn’t been easy, with my husband passing and now my daughter. But um, I’d like us to celebrate her death. She was a brilliant writer, and it certainly showed when she won the contest for the New York Times Best Up-and-Coming Writer. I’m really proud of her, we all are.” 

My eyes well up with tears as her words hit my chest like bombs. She’s proud of me? She thinks I’m a good writer? I smile to myself, 

“I finally did it, dad. I made it.” 

“I know sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.” He smiles as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. 

“C’mon, let’s go home.” 

-- 

Winter eventually fades

Revealing the unknown golden flowers

Blooming just below

[toledoendo]

Resetting the Bone- Part 3

A/n: trigger warnings: self-harm, shame

Peter walked up the stairs in the lake house, looking at the framed pictures along the landing. It was his tradition to look at these photos every time he climbed the stairs. He’d done this ever since his first time in the lake house. It began as curiosity, a means to learn about the time he had missed after Titan. Then, it became a comfort and way to ground himself. It was especially important for him in the summer before college to stand and soak in each image. Now, it was habit.

Tony never got tired of hanging more frames or updating the photos inside. Peter thought about how Tony loved his family and his heart surged. He jealously guarded the members of that family — Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, Happy… and Peter. Tony was at peace and able to be with those he loved without hardship. Finally.

Peter wanted to protect his happiness. Not ruin it. Not abuse Tony’s generosity, as so many had.

Peter found his bedroom door open. His surging heart dropped sharply. “Morgan?” He asked on reflex, stepping in quickly. Tony was standing just inside, his hands in his pockets.

Tony gave a relaxed smile and shrugged disarmingly. “Just me, bud. I wanted to check in on how you’re doing this morning.” He motioned to the door, inviting Peter to close it so they could talk.

Peter tried to swallow as he closed the door. This was the part he dreaded most about his visits the last couple of months. The worry that May and Tony- and everyone else- were teeming with for him. He had caused such an upset since that night he’d called from the hospital.

To be fair, the ER doctors had released him; they’d determined he wasn’t in imminent danger because he didn’t want to die. No, not kill himself... He had told them the truth. He had done things the right way. The urges to harm were right there, pressing their weight against his forehead like a lover about to kiss him.

Going to the ER, Peter was hoping for immediate counseling or a recovery program, but that wasn’t what happened. It was like trying to warn everyone that there was a shark in the water and them choosing to wait until it bit. By the time May had made it from New York, Peter was exhausted in every sense. He didn’t want to talk anymore; the breaker in his brain had been thrown.

May had put her hands on his cheeks and forehead several times, searchingly, as if his face might tell her exactly where the fault was and how she could heal it. She knew better, but maybe that was just the panicked hope of parents at the first sign their children are hurt. Tony had done the same when he surprised Peter in New York after May had packed him up and took him home for a week.

It was immature, but Peter was embarrassed when May or Tony “checked on him.”

They shouldn’t have to do this, he thought.

Tony sat down on the bed and Peter reluctantly walked to him. He heard his nerves buzzing again. He felt much younger, some residual teenage sense of inadequacy in his chest.

Tony sat in front of him — the one he always relied on, the one who always supported him — with an expression practically asking to take care of him, to comfort him. But Peter knew what that meant. He hardened his resolve.

Tony wanted him to be healthy, part of his family, part of his peaceful new life, and Peter wasn’t ready to give up these suddenly important, life-quaking emotions. They were his and he was greedy with them. At the expense, he knew, of others. I just keep hurting everyone, Peter thought. I don’t deserve the life I had. Peter couldn’t look at him. His eyes found the floor. Bad son.

“Can I see?” Tony asked.

Peter jolted. He looked up and saw Tony’s hands outstretched, asking for his wrist. Peter shuddered then stiffened. Don’t do this, please. He wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “No,” he said breathily.

Tony relented easily but Peter clearly saw the worry on his face. “Okay.” Tony said. “You know, even with your advanced healing, you need to keep them clean so they don’t get infected.” Peter’s stomach went stone hard.

Damn it! Peter clenched his teeth, suddenly defensive. “They’re not… They’re just … superficial. Not deep.” I hate this. I hate this.

Tony‘s brow buckled. Then he took a deciding breath through his nose. “Pete.” His voice dropped, serious. “Last time—“

No, no, no, Peter said to the rising rebellion in his brain.

“— you kept going deeper—“

Peter huffed, though it wasn’t meant how it sounded. He’d just lost control of the breath he’d pent up. Tony paused. He stood and stepped toward Peter.

Peter whispered. “Sorry.”

Tony put his arms around Peter, pausing slightly to give Peter the chance to withdraw if he didn’t want the hug. Peter didn’t resist. Tony was warm. Helplessly, Peter leaned into him.

Shame flared behind Peter’s eyes. He wished he would cry and get it over with. How much easier would that be?

Peter used to cry all the time. If he was too tired, he’d cry. If he was hungry, occasionally, he’d cry. If Tony praised him, he’d cry. If he was stressed by school deadlines, workload, if he lost a competition in front of other people, if there was even a ghost of disappointment on May’s face, he’d melt into tears.

As much as he used to hate that about himself, Peter wished he could just sob it out and this could be over. But, he didn’t cry now, had not for a while... He was so locked down, it was useless to try.

“You don’t have to show me or tell me anything, Pete. I’m not trying to…” Tony sighed. He tread this conversation softly. No doubt he remembered how easily Peter could bolt. He was quiet a long time, swallowing. Peter could hear it, feel it against his collar. “I see the work you’re doing and I’m proud of you. I’m so proud, Pete!”

“I think I cut to get high.” Just say it. “I think I’m making all this up.”

Peter hated it, but wasn’t that the truth? During the week he spent in New York with May and Tony they had developed a relapse plan. In addition to seeing a counselor immediately and using the strategies he’d learned when he was fifteen, he would drop 4 credits to ease the stress of college. He would quit his position on the university student newspaper. And, he wasn’t even patrolling as Spider-Man. He had nothing to be stressed about. So what was the problem?

“Nothing is really wrong with me. I do this because I want to. Please. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

Tony spoke, interrupting his inner battle. “I just want you to know that I’m here. I’m with you.”

“This is something I’m doing to myself, doing to you— doing on purpose.” Peter continued. “And I’m not going to stop. I’m not going to stop. Please—“

Tell him.

I can’t.

“I know,” Peter finally said.

Tony pulled away. He looked at Peter and Peter felt genuinely sorry for him. “Are you using your timer between urges and following through?”

Peter nodded. “Mostly.” Anger flared up despite everything. Tony just couldn’t help mothering him, could he?

“How long do you set?”

“Five minutes.”

Tony nodded, thinking. “Will you try 10 minutes?”

Peter dutifully agreed. When Tony was quiet, Peter raised his eyes. He saw Tony’s jaw tighten and Peter wondered what was going through his mind.

“Pete,” Tony said carefully. “I’m scared that—“ He stopped. His thumb raked his forehead as he sighed.

“I’m okay.” Peter tried. “I’m doing so much better, really. Better even than a couple weeks ago.”

“I know.” Tony smiled. “You’ve been working hard.”

No I haven’t.

“Are you talking to May?”

“Yes.” Peter lied. Of course he was talking to May. She texted him nonstop and called most nights. But, he knew what Tony was asking: was he calling May to talk when he was feeling the urge to harm? No.

May had started her own publishing group and it was gaining traction. Peter remembered being six and May bringing home finished magazines to show him and Ben. “My layout was chosen!” She’d trill. Now that he was away at MIT, she was pursuing her career again. She was finally free to do it.

Tony had asked because Peter didn’t take the walk with him last night. He had hidden in his room. And now he had fresh cuts. Of course Tony figured it out.

Tony didn’t believe his answer. This gave him the courage he needed. “I’m scared you’re not going to call anyone when you… need to.”

“I will.” Peter’s voice strained.

“Okay.” Tony said, taking an unconscious step back. He was trying to lessen the threat, ease the pressure on Peter’s flight reflex. He looked at Peter for a long time. “I trust you, Pete. Just… I’m always here to listen. I love you, kid.”

“Thanks.” Peter said. His leg started trembling. Tony was about to walk away and give him his space again. Peter’s defenses always chose this moment waver. So scared of losing this relationship that a moment before he had been actively choking to death.

Tony squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him. Peter could almost believe he was proud of him. There was nothing he had wanted more at one time. Here it was for him. He was looking at it, offered to him, like it was a foreign object. Then Tony turned for the door. “Why don’t you listen to some music —“

“Mr. Stark!”

Both started at that. Tony turned to him questioningly. “Y’haven’t called me that in a while, bud.”

Peter shook out an exhale. His shoulder touched his left ear. Fourteen again, anxious tics and all, he stammered. “Can — can you—“ Goading himself to push through his instinct to flee, he fought the closing of his throat. This felt like gagging yourself to throw up. He ducked to his backpack and removed a foldable camping knife. He thrust it toward Tony, not able to look at him. “—take this, please?”

“Of course.” He heard Tony answer softly. “I’ll take care of it, okay?” Then he felt Tony lift it from his hand. “Do you want to talk?”

That was it. The apathy dissolved and Peter felt his legs swept from under him. He clenched his eyes closed and shook his head. A brutal sob broke out as he felt Tony hold him again.

Damn it. It was always like this. Splintered and unable to hold himself together, he had to interrupt someone else’s life to gather him up, put him in a splint.

I can’t talk to you. Don’t you get it?

“I’m here. I’ve got you.” Tony said.

Peter couldn’t bring himself to cling to Tony like he had. He was defying himself to even hand over the knife. Stuck between two places: complete destruction and health. Was this even a step toward recovery? Tony probably hoped so.

Tony was smoothing down his quaking form, talking in lullaby tones— “I’m with you. You don’t have to do this alone.” Even so, Peter couldn’t rest, but it felt great to cry.

[purplesurveys]

811

What do you like to drink in the morning? I’m not really a drinks person and I’m fine having all my meals with just water. I like coffee, but I usually drink it in the afternoon or at night. What color is your favorite hoodie? Don’t have one. My favorite sweater is gray though. Do you have a string of lights in your room? No. I remember wanting those as a teenager but I figured it was such a waste of electricity just to make my room look a little cuter, so that turned me off from the idea lol. Do you know what you are going to do today? Yeah, well today I was going to finally register for a social security number online, but given that I’m from the Philippines and the government only gives their 15% in everything they do, the website is absolute garbage and I can’t get past the first step of the process. Not surprising anymore. Other than that, I don’t have anything else to do. Does your heart hurt? My heart is missing so many people at the moment, but it’s not really hurting.

Who is not in your life that you wish was? I wish that my late maternal grandfather was still alive, if he counts. Who hurt you last? Probably Gabie. She doesn’t have a good hold of her emotions when she’s mad and tends to spit out hurtful things without thinking if it would affect me. I plan to have a talk with her about it once we can see each other again because it’s beginning to suck. Can you see the moon out your window right now? Continuing this survey four hours later, except now I’m tipsy as fuck haaaaaa. I dunno, I probably won’t be able to. It’s been raining all day and evening so I might only see clouds if I look out.

What makes you feel inspired? Seeing other people with insanely good work ethic. Are you mad at a friend right now? Nope, no reason to be. Do you have a friend who hurt you and doesn't care? I mean I’m pretty sensitive, so yeah I’ve had some friends say stuff to me that they probably didn’t think anything of, but hurt me in actuality. Is your room clean? Sure, it’s not too cluttered at the moment or anything like that. Can you see the sunrise from your window? No, it doesn’t happen on my side of the house. If you were a writer, would you have a pen name or use your real name? I’d use my real name. Idk, I’ve always found pen names to be a tad bit confusing. Did you go to Goodwill yesterday? I didn’t, and I don’t, because we don’t have whatever that is here. What is your friend's cat's name? I don’t have friends who have cats.  Do you celebrate your pet's birthdays? Continuing this survey 15 hours later because I was too dizzy to continue typing, lmao. I typically buy him a dog-friendly cupcake from the pet supply store at the mall near my school, and I serve him more food than usual for lunch and dinner. March is a busy month for me with school and stuff, so I haven’t gotten the chance to throw him a party. :( As a kid, did you celebrate your dolls' birthdays? (if you're a girl) I never liked playing with dolls. But no, I didn’t celebrate the ‘birthdays’ of my other toys. None of them lasted that long with me anyway haha. Are you wearing a hoodie right now? Nope. It’s chilly right now, but it’s not wear-a-hoodie cold. Did you ignore the last facebook post that bothered you, or did you comment? I had to ignore it because it was from my grand-aunt, and old people like to throw fits when you call them out so it was going to be a waste of my time if I commented. Do you need to go to the pharmacy today? No, no need for meds anymore yaaaaaay. Are you realizing that one of your friends isn't a real friend? Not at the moment. I’m happy with the circle I currently have. What was the name of one of your stuffed animals as a kid? I didn’t like stuffed animals either. This is more of my sister’s turf. Do you have a car? If so, did you give it a name? I do have a car but I’ve never given it a name. With my dad having plans to sell it soon, I’d rather it stay nameless for the remaining time it has with me so that I don’t get any more attached to it. If you were a famous singer, what would you want your hit song to be about? I’d want it to have an important message so I’ll probably write something about the bullshit that the government keeps pulling on us.

Did you skip church last week? No, unfortunately my mom makes us watch YouTube recordings of masses from a certain church. I usually hold up one of our couch pillows so that I don’t have to see the TV screen, but nevertheless I’m part of the audience and 30-45 minutes of my time are always wasted every Sunday. Do you have any big regrets? Just one big one. If you had to re-design an alien, instead of making them green with slanty-eyes and an egg-shaped head, what would you make it look like? I’m not creative enough for this question, so pass Do you have anyone who loves you, besides God? Do you have anyone who cares about you, besides God? Do you have anyone who you can go to for support? Yes, there’s a number of people I can think of. Do you normally write in cursive or print? Print, I write faster that way. Does your heart ache for something? Right now I’m kinda wanting pizza actually lol. Do you fit the millennial stereotype? I’m not even a millennial, dude. Would you want your first child to be a boy or a girl? Girl. I don’t want sons. If you were to write an article for a magazine, what would it be about? I’m in the mood to write an opinion piece about, again, the government. Do you have a blog? I have this Tumblr but it’s really more of a journal than anything else, so no, I wouldn’t say that I have an active blog. I did have several classes where our projects required us to make blogs and I never deleted those, so those blogs are still up albeit untouched for years now. If you were to start a blog, what would your first post be about? I can see myself starting a food review blog where I journal all the restaurants I dine in. Do you think you are good at writing poetry? I absolutely suck at it and hate when I’m required to make poems. Have you ever tried a science experiment that didn't work? I don’t think so. Have you ever had a teacher who looked like an alien? I dunno what an alien is supposed to look like but I also haven’t had a teacher who I thought looked weird. Do you take gummy vitamins? Not since I was 14 or 15. Are your feet wide? No. At least I don’t think they are lol. If you could do research right now for an essay, what topic would you choose to right about? Welp today is our Independence Day, so keeping in line with the timing it’d be nice to do a paper on something about Philippine history. What are your strongest attribute? Personally, I like the fact that I’m detail-oriented. That trait has been responsible for presentable Powerpoints, has saved otherwise careless co-workers, and has made sure that all research, written articles, etc. are free from critical errors, be it in data or grammar. Have you ever been tempted to commit a crime? Of course. I think we’ve all been tempted to do something like that at least once. Have you ever started writing a suicide letter? I’ve written a couple ones throughout the years. ...and then realized you wanted to live? No. Do you know anyone who had to evacuate for the latest hurricane? Not the last typhoon, no. But my friends in Marikina have had to evacuate for past calamities many times because they live right beside a river, and one that easily overflows at that. Do you write letters to friends? Only for special occasions, like for Christmas, retreats, if they were graduating, etc. Do you like to write letters? I do but it can get so tiring, especially because I prefer handwriting my letters. I used to write 40+ handwritten letters, one for each of my classmates, every year when we would go on retreat. The practice was super tiring though so now I typically just write letters for Gab. As a kid, did you find diagramming sentences fun? The what sentences??? I’ve no clue what you’re talking about. Whatever those are, I’m positive we never did that in school. What is your dream? Money. Where would you travel if you could? I’d go absolutely everywhere, but I’d start by finishing off Asia first. When it comes to traveling, I’ve always imagined myself taking my sweet time going local first before venturing out to farther countries. That being said, I’d love to go to Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Brunei. Do you feel all alone in the world? No. Do you own a piece of jewelry with an owl on it? Haaaaaaaaa, no. That’s such a Tumblr-in-2010 trademark. I did have owl stuff before, though. If you have a class ring, what color is the stone? Not a thing here. Does looking at the starry sky make you feel peaceful? It does. But if I’m really hellbent on feeling peaceful, I’d rather look at either a skyline at night OR into the sea during the day. Do you have a pen pal? If not, would you ever want to have one? No and no. Like I said, I’m pretty much retired from handwritten letters after writing 40+ of them every single year for around a decade lol. Do you drink hot chocolate? Only La Creperie’s San Gines hot chocolate. Sometimes I’ll drink hot chocolate at hotels too. Do you like apple cider hot or cold? I don’t drink that. Are you hurt by something a friend did to you recently? No, none of them have done or said something hurtful to me lately. Are you under 30? Yeup. Have you made a "30 Things to Do Before I'm 30" list? No. I don’t like keeping myself under a deadline. Do you paint rocks and hide them in your town? I’ve never done that before. Do you have a secret crush? Nope, am very vocal about my crush heh. What was the name of your first crush? Andi. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? Yes, groan. Do you like parodies? Not always. Some of them can be a little too cheesy for my liking. Are you a Taylor Swift fan? Not a chance. Have you ever kissed a picture? I probably have. Do you use window clings (stickers for your window)? No. Do you decorate for fall? We don’t have fall. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? Not really sure yet...I don’t even know if we’re getting Halloween this year. Has suicide crossed your mind a lot lately? [trigger warning] Not these days, and I’m really thankful for that. I’ve self-harmed twice during the course of the quarantine and while that’s disappointing at least I haven’t thought about being dead, and that’s what matters to me. Do you have supernatural abilities? ............No. Do you get enough hugs? Definitely not these days. I haven’t been hugged since March. I think I might cry when I get my first one. What labels do people try to put on you? I don’t know. You’d have to ask others because this isn’t the sort of thing people say to your face lol. Who do YOU (or rather, who does God) say you are? Are you happy? I’m not happy with the Jesus questions on here lmao but kidding aside, I wouldn’t say that I 100% am. I just feel like I’ve only been floating or existing recently, but not fully happy. Have you asked yourself recently, Why am I here? I hate questions like that, so no. What family member did you get your hair color from? Everyone of them. Filipinos have the same features. Have you ever found a secret compartment? No. If you designed a house, would you give it a secret room? I’ve seen some interesting ones on the internet that make me want a secret room of my own, but I think it’ll stay as a fantasy. Do you read horror stories? When I come across them, sure. I don’t actively look for them though. Do you ever comfort eat? Yeah, I did it a lot before quarantine. Yabu’s a great example of me comfort eating haha. Does stretching feel good? Yesssss. Do you have your wedding planned in your head already? I have scenarios that play in my head but I don’t have the specifics – color scheme, flowers, centerpieces, location, etc – mapped out yet. Would you ever adopt a child? Not my first choice. Are you ok today? I’d say so, yeah. It’s not hot today so that’s already good enough of a day for me lmao. Was the last book you read good? It was okay. It holds a great life story with okay writing. Wrestlers write autobiographies ALL THE TIME which means that not all of them will be a home run, and AJ’s was neither earth-shattering nor bad. I definitely didn’t appreciate the unintended-but-casual sexism/misogyny in it or the extreme hyperboles, but it’s AJ and I love her work nonetheless.