#i was by myself the entire shift and i had well over 100 customers

[lilac-melody]

I hate working on Black Friday...

[niennandil-me-writes]

'til there's nothing left but pieces

cn: alcohol, gore, weaponized trauma, mentioned necrophilia, dismemberment, Teo being an asshole

[Part of this was written as a birthday present for @noxachi, then I wrote the first half to make it sadder. Qin, as always, belongs to them. This takes place at a point where Qin and Teo know each other pretty well, but before they get together in an actual relationship. It's based on our OC talks and also on the fact Nox wanted me to write a specific detail from this :>]

"Caught me in a bad place Bad mood, bad year I still hear your name Yeah, it's ringing in my ear Shoot me through the heart Hunt me down, please my dear Baby, kill me now Please, girl let me die here"

familypet – bad mood, bad year

Even though there was a lot of noise in the filthy hole that one would only call a tavern if a lot of quotation marks were involved – and even if there hadn’t been, the patronage probably wouldn’t have given a second thought to the topic being discussed – the Gnome spoke in a whisper, so Teo had to lean forward to get all the details she was laying down about the prospective target. She only interrupted herself to nervously look around or take small sips from the tankard in front of her, and once she finished, she looked at him expectantly.

He nodded, first at her, then towards the greataxe leaning against the table, with his right hand resting on top of it, which was probably another reason his client seemed so nervous. “We’ll do it.” It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

“How much?”

“600. 100 up front.”

“Oh, that’s – “

“Too much?”

“No. Sorry, no, I expected it to be much more expensive.”

“You can pay more if you want.” Not that he needed the money. These days, it was more of a formality. He wasn’t sending money to Fey anymore, now that he knew what kind of plans that was funding. And it wasn’t like he needed to buy food or hot chocolate for anyone.

The Gnome laughed at the joke. He didn’t. The laugh fell silent.

“Part of the payment is that you break me out of prison if I get caught,” he explained his terms.

She nodded.

“If I have to get out myself, you’re my next target.”

She nodded harder, eyeing Dex nervously. “Like I said, she lives on the third floor. I thought, if you can get in unnoticed, you could make it look like an accident.”

“Sorry, I don’t do subtle,” Teo interjected before she could say more. “This won’t be neat, or inconspicuous or anything. What I do is massacres.”

“So I’ve heard...” The Gnome’s eyes now shot at the greataxe every few moments, like any second she expected Teo to do exactly what he was thinking about since he had entered the tavern. “Fine,” she said then.

As they were already talking about his terms, he also added: “I don’t care about bystanders. Whoever gets in my way is dead as well.”

“That’s fine, I don’t know anyone living in those parts of town anyway,” she said, lowering her voice. “I just want that bitch Tamnaeth dead, I don’t care how. Though to be honest, I wouldn’t mind it being more brutal than necessary.”

For the first time in the entire conversation, he smiled. “I can do that.” He brushed his fingers over the steel of Dex’ blade. That’s why his prices were so low. To make sure his customers didn’t expect clean work. They expected a bloodbath. And he was all too happy to deliver.

The Gnome shifted around on her seat. “You know, people recommended you when I was asking around. Said your work is good to an affordable price. And you really seem like just the right fit for the job.”

“When should I take care of her?”

“As soon as possible,” she hissed. “Tomorrow evening at the latest. We don’t have more time. Under no circumstances must she...”

She kept talking, but he was only half-listening since everything was taken care of now, instead imagining how easily her bones would break if he got up and threw the table against her, and what it would feel like to slice Dex through her. He nodded along while she recounted all the details again twice and then finally handed him a bag filled with gold coins under the table. He put the money into an inner pocket of his trench coat without counting it. The Gnome stood up from the table without finishing her drink, left the dark corner of the tavern they were sitting in, hurrying towards the door, no doubt to leave this entire part of the town behind her as fast as she could before anyone could find out about what she had done here.

Teo leaned back in his chair. Dex’ blade was on eye level with him as he turned him around in his hand, haft planted on the floor.

“See, it was a good idea we stayed in this town after all,” Teo said. “Granted, it doesn’t seem like this will be a big challenge. But who knows? Maybe she surprises us.”

He was silent for a moment while he listened to Dex.

“You worry too much,” he said then. “It’s not like anyone saw us during the last two jobs.” He grinned. “No one alive, that is. And even if, it’s nothing we can’t handle. The town watch consists of maybe 20 people, and I’m sure we could take them on if we had to.”

In that moment, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, irritated, and then a wider grin spread on his face.

“Didn’t expect to see you here," the Tiefling with the light pink skin and curly white hair said, smirk playing on their lips, a drink in their hand.

“Just had a meeting with a client.”

“Oh, so do you have to be off soon?” Something changed in their face, but before he could register what it was, it was gone again and they were right back to their smirk.

“Nah, I’m free right now,” Teo said.

 “That’s good to hear because I might have a job for you. You know, I was asking around a bit for a hitman, and people recommended you.” In contrast to the Gnome’s whispered words, the Tiefling didn’t make any attempt to keep their voice down. Quite the opposite, they spoke in a loud and exaggerated voice as they said: “I heard you’re really good at using that axe of yours, that you know exactly how to make your victims scream. So, I thought I’d come over and request your services.”

Teo smiled at them. “Well, why don’t you have a seat and we can talk about all that?”

“Is that seat taken?” they asked.

Teo shook his head, and Qin set down their glass, squeezed between the table and his chair and sat on his lap. They gave him a peck on the cheek, and at the same time made a grab for the tankard in front of him.

“Is that your drink?” they asked right before they took a sip.

“The barkeeper wouldn’t let me do business here if I didn’t order something and give a massive tip," Teo explained, glancing over at the bar, where the woman was still casting him dark looks every now and then. He had wanted to murder her the moment he had entered the tavern, which was a bit below the average time he took before imagining someone’s death. But now he immediately looked away from her and back to Qin. The way they were sitting, he had a direct view of the big scar spanning their neck, only half hidden by the high collar of their shirt.

“Wow, this tastes disgusting,” Qin announced with a big grin and set down the mug. “Really fits the whole atmosphere of this place.”

“Where did you get that anyway?” Teo asked as Qin picked up their own drink again, a colorful concoction in a clean glass that didn’t seem like it would be served at this place. Hell, it even had a slice of lime at the rim.

“Oh, I brought that from another tavern,” Qin said. “You want a sip?”

Teo shook his head. Qin shrugged their shoulders, emptied the glass and then slammed it on the table, then swung their legs around his in one quick motion so they were facing him now, their back leaning against the edge of the table. Their tail casually brushed his legs.

“Back to business,” they said. “How much?”

Now that they weren’t sitting mere inches in front of him anymore, Teo could look them once over, his eyes wandering over their skin covered in black tattoos like crawling veins. He knew that the scar on their neck wasn’t the only one they bore, knew how many of them were scattered – and some seemingly carefully placed – all over their body, beneath their dark clothes. None of them came from him. Yet. It wasn’t for a lack of trying.

Looking at them brought back wonderful memories of all the times he’d cut them open. Dragging Dex’ cold steel through their flesh. How beautifully their screams still rang in his ears. He remembered the darker than usual color of their blood, drying on his skin. He looked at their curling horns that just a few weeks ago he had grabbed to slam their head against a rock.

 “For you,” Teo said, running his fingers over the axe head, “that’s on the house.”

“Again?” Qin asked in mock surprise. “Damn, sweetheart, you really need to think over your business strategy.”

“I’m fine, I already got an advance payment today,” Teo said. “So, if there’s anything else you want to do, I have the money for it.”

He almost expected them to make a joke about how they were getting spoiled or that they wanted him to take them out (pun fully intended) on an expensive date, but instead they said: “Well, since I’ve already paid fully, I’d much rather we get to the good stuff immediately.”

“Right now?” Teo asked, pulling Dex closer, so the blade grazed their cheek.

Qin put one hand against the cold metal, casually trailing a finger over the blunt side, while their tail wrapped a bit tighter around his leg. Their white irises gleamed mischievously in their dark eyes. They knew he was only half-joking, and that they only had to say the word for him to tear them apart right then and there in front of everyone in the tavern.

“I’d rather have some privacy,” they said. “I found a place just a couple minutes of walk from here, where we’ll have all the space we need, and where nobody will interrupt us.”

“Lead the way.”

Qin let go of him and got up. They squeezed between the tables and walked out the door. He expected them to be gone by the time he had shouldered Dex and followed them outside, or have at him with a knife or their rapier, leaving him with a minor injury before they ran off, an invitation of catch me if you can. But instead they were waiting for him, and then led him down the narrow streets of the shadiest district of an already pretty shady town. It was getting dark.

“We should get there before midnight,” Qin explained. “Unless we want some more company. Which could be fun, but right now I’d really much rather have you all for myself.” They turned around, smirking at him. That smirk never left them. Even while he was killing them, they always showed a bloody grin, and when they lay dead, their corpse was smiling as well, like they were teasing him, spurring him on to make it more painful next time. He had only seen them without it once, and he hadn’t really been paying that much attention then, too focused on his own circumstances.

They arrived at a cul-de-sac, where Qin waved him over to one of the corners, where two houses didn’t quite connect, leaving a small gap that in the shadows and the murky colors of the bricks was hard to see, and which Teo wouldn’t have noticed at all. Qin quickly dashed between the walls, and Teo followed, much slower as he was broader built and had to make sure that Dex didn’t scratch along the bricks. The crevice led into a square space between high house walls, almost like a courtyard, but with no doors or windows looking onto it.

“The acoustics here are pretty neat,” Qin explained, looking around. “Almost no sound is carried outside the walls. In other words, you can make me scream as much as you like, and nobody will be able to hear.”

They had hardly finished their sentence, before Teo came charging at them, Dex raised high. They dodged, just barely. “You really don’t waste any time, huh, sweetheart?”

“Draw your weapon.” His voice was a growl, but he was grinning as well. He had been waiting for this for weeks.

“Doesn’t seem necessary,” Qin quipped. “You haven’t even landed a hit yet.”

He made another strike with Dex. Their evasion was slow, clumsy, leaving a long gash on their arm, their shirt ripped. He swung Dex around in the air and attacked with the other blade. Another cut on their side, deeper this time, tearing through their leather armor.

“Come on, is that all you got?” they sneered.

Something was weird. A lot of things were, but Teo only noticed now that they were fighting. Usually, by now they’d have attacked him just as viciously as he did them. The wounds they inflicted were never lethal. As they put it, he was simply too much fun. But they did make him bleed. And even if they had let him win sometimes, it had never been this obvious. Maybe that should have made him hesitate. But he couldn’t stop, not after their fight had begun. Their blood was on Dex’ blade and he could not stop until they lay dead in front of him.

Finally, they reached for their rapier, attacking him with full force but no focus behind it. He easily blocked the swipe with Dex’ haft, and their own force threw the weapon out of their hand. Qin watched it fly in a high arc and then land on the ground several feet away. They didn’t lunge for it, nor did they go for their knives. Instead, they just stared at him, arms extended on their sides, like they were waiting for the next hit.

“Come on, just fucking kill me!”

Teo stepped forward, hooking Dex around their neck to make them look at him. Qin shot him a grin filled with sharp teeth.

“Are you really just going to let me win like that?” he grinned back at them, pressing the steel into their skin. Blood started trickling down their neck.

His question had been more of a tease than a demand, but they still answered: “I know I owe you a fight, babe.” Leaning back into the blade, they looked at him through half-lidded eyes. He could feel their weight pulling on Dex as the steel bit into them. “And I promise you’ll get one as soon as I wake up again. I’ll fucking stab you until you scream just as loud as you made me scream. But right now, I need this.”

The blood soaking their clothes didn’t help his ability to parse the situation, neither did the wounds revealed beneath their ripped shirt, deep and bloody and beautiful.

When Teo didn’t continue hurting them, Qin said: “I’m sorry, I should have been honest with you from the start, Teo. It wasn’t a fight or a game I was looking for today. It was just death. Just...” They hesitated “...a break. There’s too many thoughts in my head right now, too many feelings and I just want all of them to stop, just for a moment. Dying helps. So does pain. So please. Just kill me and fuck me, in any order you want.” Their smirk had become nothing but bared teeth. There was something off about it, about their entire self, something tense and desperate, but if he noticed any of that, then only in retrospect.

They made a sound of frustration as he pulled Dex away from them. He took a step back, perplexed.

“What?” he said. All the joy their blood and pain had brought him was gone all of a sudden.

“How much clearer do I have to make it?” Qin wiped a bloody hand over their face. “Kill me, hurt me, stab me, tear me apart. You’re so good at that, sweetheart.” Something around their features went softer, more genuine, yet again going unnoticed, as they said: “I’m just tired of all these feelings.”

Letting out a dry laugh, Teo lowered Dex. “I can’t relate to that.” His grip tightened. Qin chuckled, just as dryly (just as oblivious), until Teo started turning away, gaze directed at Dex now.

They stepped closer. “You’re not leaving already, are you? We haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

Teo stared at them. He wanted to kill them. That’s what he was here for, after all. But something had shifted in his intentions.

Their smile trembled. “Come on, don’t make me beg for it.”

Suddenly, the axe was at their throat again. The corner of their mouth twitched upward.

“Trust me, you don’t want to be rid of those feelings,” he said, and then, before they could say or do anything else, he swung Dex around. Their scream was more surprise than pain. They fell to the ground, blood streaming from the stump where their leg was only barely attached. He put one foot on their chest to keep them down.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Qin said.

Without answering, he brought Dex down on them again. Flesh ripped, bone crushed, blood spilled and then their arm was off. There was nothing beautiful about it.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked without looking at them, raising Dex once again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your – “ Their words, poorly chosen as they were, got swallowed up in another scream.

“Nothing to hurt there,” Teo muttered. Nothing to break. "You know what I would give to feel what you feel? To be alive enough to want to die? What I would do to have that?” He brought Dex down again, hacking through their other leg. “Well, I'm actually doing that right now. So is that really what you want? Because I’d swap places anytime."

They were quiet now, just staring up at him. For once, the smirk was gone from their face, replaced by surprise, and in turn Teo was surprised at how satisfied he was with that, even though it wasn’t the pain that had robbed Qin of their smile. And then there was something else in their eyes. Fear? He had forgotten how much he loved it when his victims feared him.

He swung Dex down again. He knew if he kept going like this, they’d be dead soon, but he wasn’t in the mood for shallow cuts right now. What really vexed him was that he knew for a fact that pain didn’t bother them. And he wanted them to hurt.

Teo reached down, grabbed one of their horns and yanked them up into a kneeling position. Their tail whipped around as they tried to regain their balance. He stomped down on it, another crack. Then another swing with Dex and it lay separated and bloody on the ground. Qin flinched.

“You wanted this, or not?” he spit into their face. “You said if I ever wanted to actually hurt you, I could do it. Well turns out I really do like that. I love seeing you all bloody and scared beneath me. I thought what we had was enough, but I guess that was just another delusion.” He glanced at Dex’ steel glinting red with blood. “I’m good at that.”

He was glad now that he’d never told them. He would just have been lying to them, like he’d been lying to himself. Like he’d been lying to Marlowe. Though he would have loved to see their face now when he told them ‘I don’t love you. I never have.’ But they wouldn’t have cared, would they? That was never what they had wanted from him to begin with.

His hand moved from their horn to their hair, yanking their head up at first, but then the grip turned softer. Teo ran his bloody fingers through the white curls, the only tender thing about this whole act, and the cruellest part of it. Qin gasped, but they didn’t tear their head away. Maybe they didn’t have any strength left for it. They stared up at him from glistening eyes, and then silent tears started running down their face, washing away some of the blood. Teo had never seen Qin cry before. He grinned, taking this trophy, this proof that he had broken something inside them that he hadn’t been able to before – hadn’t wanted to before.

There was something else in Qin’s eyes, though. There was the fear, of course, overwhelming, but not strong enough to drive them away, to make them fight back. He turned their head up towards him, gently, much too gently, so he could get a better look at their face. His fingers kept carding through their hair. Something flickered in their eyes, and for just a moment, they seemed to lean into his touch despite themself. Despite everything.

And then he realized what it was. Where he had seen it on them before, though he had barely paid attention back then, only when he had raised Dex and they had stood before him, in his way, shielding the man behind them. Beneath the fear and the shame, there was a desperation, a longing.

Teo might have been stupid, but even he could put two and two together. Their discomfort at getting their hair touched. The illusion that had waited for them in the Place Between. The way they always closed their eyes when they kissed him (just like he did, thinking of Marlowe).

“Do I remind you of him?”

They didn’t answer. They didn’t have to. What surprised him was that it hurt.

He let go of their hair, put both hands to Dex’ grip again. They could barely keep themself upright. Their eyes were begging him to end this, and he did, just another swift movement of the blade before their weakened body could hit the ground. Not a full decapitation, but enough to make their head fall over their shoulder to the side.

For a moment, he stood there, looking down at the bloody mangled corpse at his feet.

Then he turned his attention to Dex: “Don’t give me that. They knew what they were getting into. They asked for this. Should have seen it coming.”

For some time, he listened. Then: “They didn’t even know what they were talking about. It bothered me, you know why it did. Maybe I was wrong. No, of course I was.” He chuckled. Walked away. Looked down at Dex. “It’s just like me, doing something like this.”

Teo winced. “That... that was – shut up. I just wanted them to hurt.” There was a tuft of white hair, now dyed dark red, sticking to his hand as well as the leather of the axe handle. He brushed it off.

“That’s not it. Just what they said didn’t sit right with me. And it’s not like I need a reason to kill anyone, to hurt them.” He started walking up and down while impatiently listening to Dex.

He shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure they got the point.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bring him into this!”, he interrupted Dex. His bloody hands cramped on the axe handle. “Don’t pretend like this could have gone any other way. Not like this whole thing could last.”

Silence.

“I wish – “

“Teo?”

He spun around. Qin sat awake. All their wounds were healed and their limbs reattached. They heaved their body upwards on arms and legs. Whatever Teo had wanted to tell Dex went lost, just like any other words he had. Qin stepped closer, not caring that the weapon covered in their blood was still in Teo’s hands. Standing in front of him, they lifted a hand to his cheek without touching him. They got on the tip of their toes and leaned forward. Their lips just barely touched his forehead.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to play with your feelings.” This time their words seemed carefully picked, not an accident. They stepped away. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore.” They shot him a smirk, but there was a deep sadness around their eyes, and it was only then that he realized he had learnt to read their face.

They picked up the rapier and then ran off. For a moment, he considered going after them. Then he sat down, took out a piece of cloth and started wiping the blood from his blades. Beneath the dark red, the flowers and trees reappeared.

“No, you’re right,” he said. “They’re much better off without me. They were bound to have enough of me. At least I got some good kills out of them.”

He knew that the pain in his chest would go away eventually and give way to the emptiness. He wished it wouldn’t. He clung to it, to their smile, their tears, their words, and noticed for the first time how dear he had held them. Stroking his fingers over the blade, he thought of soft curls running between them, but there were just red lines trailing down his skin.

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Ok so here's some insider info. I worked for Five Below before the pandemic, and just into it becoming "Five Beyond" (ironically based on the appearance, I'm pretty sure it's this exact one).

Five Below is good for candy, and things you need in a pinch. But that's literally all. DO NOT EXPECT YOUR ITEMS FROM THIS STORE TO LAST MORE THAN A DAY OR TWO!!!!

Do not shop at this place for any reason unless you truly absolutely have to!!!! The chargers and phone cases break within an hour of purchase oftentimes, the headphones and earbuds outright just don't work more often than they do, the collectibles they get are the ones that other stores can't sell and Five Below tries to get a bang for their buck selling those 2 variants of a blind box and nothing else.

The customers... I'm going to give it to you guys straight. The customers were the fucking WORST here out of any job I've ever worked in my life. They came in just to pick up a ton of items they didn't want, and throw them in places they didn't belong, then walked out without buying a damn thing. If they made it to the register, they'd always come up and leave behind over half their cart saying they didn't want this or that or... anything but this one item.

I had a family come in once, and their little son gently bapped his head on the pole in the center of the store, which held up the entire ceiling. His parents came to my boss and started DEMANDING to file a lawsuit, and get that pole removed at once because her kid was concussed.

I was asked to go collect carts one day, and as I did just that, a couple pulled into the spot in front of me, rushed out of their car, and began screaming at me that I'd hit their car with the cart I was grabbing. They threatened to call the police, and pointed out a spot on the car where they claimed there was a dent and a scratch, but I have beyond 20/20 vision according to multiple eye doctors who have tested me over the years, to the point my vision has been compared to that of robots. There were no scratches or dents whatsoever on that car.

Half the people who come into Five Below are high off their asses, and mock the coworkers, shout on the phone, and so on.

One dude came into the store to do a return, and he appeared to have a mental disability of some sort. I'd know, I'm autistic myself and selectively mute. But the moment he was done, the dude got outside and called his wife, perking up like nothing ever happened at all, and said he'd scammed the store into doing a return, communicating completely neurotypically and behaving as such the entire time as well. He literally faked disability to try throwing us workers off by changing his story twenty times on how the item broke and he lost the receipt, just for us to cave and give him his money back.

There were people who would come to us with things from 2 years ago that just broke today, and demanded their money back.

But in general, this corporation sucks as a whole. They destroy a TON of product just because it's out of season. My boss had me literally take a knife to over 100 dresses and blouses one shift for this exact reason. She did the same to many tee shirts and pants throughout our time working there.

Five Below REFUSES to give raises to any employees. If you work there, and you've been there for several years, you're still getting paid as much as that person who just got hired yesterday. Managers barely make any more than that. It doesn't matter how many years pass with you employed, the only reason you'll get paid more is if your state's minimum wage goes up, therefore requiring the company to pay more.

Corporate does random walk-ins without warning constantly. And I mean like multiple times a week. The people disguise themselves as customers, and check out the stock to see if it's immaculate, the workers to see if they're sticking to the script of let go and have fun, and that they're saying something like "Have a fun day!" after every customer leaves. Because this is so common, customers often come by and say they're part of corporate, and they demand something unreasonable, but no workers can tell if they're legit or not, so they learn to become wary of official corporate in general.

Overall, Five Below is shit in every way. It's good for if you're traveling and need something right away to last you the ride home. But that's it. They're unethical, the frequent customers are no better, and the resellers who buy items in bulk just hock up the prices online for people in other countries outside the USA with good-looking products that are actually shit quality in all possible ways. Do NOT buy from Five Below, do not work for them, do not buy from resellers.

[postcards-to-home]

Letting Go: 2023

‘Have you taken a look at your old posts?” Yes, sort of, thats kind of what brought me to dig that password out again to make a post. “Well read them again. They’re pretty…inspirational actually. Truly. Just please do it.”

Shape of You/ Ed Sheeran

Fitting 9 people deep into a 5 seater Toyota Fitz at 2 am was not how I anticipated starting the year off. Riding the center console with all the windows rolled up I wondered out loud who the hell was sober enough to drive this thing back to the Aruba Beach Club? Last I recalled we had closed Ricardo's down after slamming over 100 beers in 3 hours, with a unanimous cry from the bartenders, ``You guys broke the record of the most beers ever consumed in one shift.``We’d managed to hit downtown, with chaos tailing closely behind us until open signs flickered off. Someplace between the Ritz and Hilton we huddled on the beach forming a semi circle around a fat Dutchmaster with our fingers cupping the flame of a single lighter. The waves trickled below the pier we stood on as we watched the boats pass between Venezuela and our tiny island of Aruba. Leave it to D-rock to get weed immediately after passing through customs. As a gang of cousins, It was a first for us to all be together overseas. There was peace between us all as we star gazed, except for Tyler filming himself in the background talking about "getting his bag" and "visiting the red-light district". Good Ole Frank shoved us into the clown car half dead at 3 am managing to hit every speed bump he could until we crash landed at the ABC hotel. Jason never made it out of bed the next day and Frank managed to be at the pool by 9. I understand entirely how we are family after that joy ride.

Im Good (Blue) // David Guetta & Bebe Rexha

Trips with family are always special and I wish I could have had that same feeling I had cruising down the Aruban highway at 3am as I did in Las Vegas this year for my Bachelorette party. While It didn’t pan out that way that I had pictured in my mind, those that made the journey sure did make me smile. The trip itself panned out so far in the other direction I actually wondered if anyone would give a shit about that one time I had 3 vodka cranberries on a vintage casino tour where I took pictures of the retro shag rugs with cowboys on them and fell asleep by 10pm sharp. It was the same trip in which I got to dress up like a bedazzled flamingo and had all my besties shower me with love, something I can't be thankful enough for. They had the ball literally dropped on their heads and they managed to keep moving forward with my happiness as the focus. It wouldn't have been a "Nicole" Trip if I didn't make a fool of myself at least once. I realized after I got off the elevator that my underwear were in fact tucked into the outside of my shirt with the worst part being I was 100% sober. Despite no one winning thousands of dollars or managing to buy a lap dance we did trek through the desert in a hot pink jeep and that was the highlight of the entire trip.After that, we flew home, we threw out anything that had to do with those that hurt us intentionally and we let that shit go.

When I grow up // The pussycat Dolls

Fast Car// Luke Combs

The year snowballed, and if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room. I’ll save everyone the details but I hope this is the last year of my life I have to experience the sudden violent interjection of a fentanyl overdose once again and the familiar destruction it brings. I hope those reading never have to live with seeing your family crowded around the kitchen window sobbing as you see your uncle bent over, dead on the sofa from a coke overdose.Upsetting and startling to read? Yes, but at least he wasn't found crumpled in a ball on the bathroom floor like his son was.  It was of no surprise to receive the news, still tragic no less. It's the one time in my life I wish my intuition was wrong. My mom reminded me I’d called it,emphasizing the need to never tell her in advance when my spidey senses tell me things are going to go south with someone. I had no memory of telling cousin Robert this in January but he wasted no time reminding everyone I knew this would happen before it happened. Jay and I spoke to the officer at the scene on a first name basis hearing “This is the 9th one this week.” It clicked there standing in the rain that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, something I said to Tommy at 9 years old. He was pretty pissed to hear that back then as a 15 year old delinquent. Yet here I am breathing and his ashes are now somewhere in the Moab desert, Schaghticoke, with bitch face and gram down at the cemetery in Cohoes . It was bad enough we buried aunt Ona next to Gram on Thursday but having to go back on Friday to bury Jr in the adjacent plot the following day was just simply too much for us. Maybe we all should have taken those free narcans Grandma Debbie was giving out two Decembers ago that she got from the county jail. But I'll let that thought go.

Way of the Truine God// Tyler Childs

There came a point in the year where pounding the pavement felt like second nature. Work, farm, picking, shows, repeat.Toggling google maps and driving down back country roads into no mans land had me thinking I was pioneering my own adventure.But then standing outside some abandoned house, freezing in line with #27 stuffed in my back pocket I would wonder , is this even fucking worth it? Somewhere close by a  grouchy bastard cranked a heater next to me mumbling about the cast iron pan he wants at the sale. “Cheap thrills” Id giggle sifting through some dead person's Attic knee deep in a mouse house. I drove chaotically through the tri-county region slinging antiques, singing reggaeton of all things at the top of my lungs, driving down 787 doing 90 in a 65mph. We  trucked car loads of plants to antique shows this year all thanks to Dad, Jay mom and Toni. Success is easy when you have a mini squad of family cheering you on the sidelines, willingly sacrificing Saturday mornings to unload trailers at 7am. I was living the dream and my heart would explode on the good days. On the bad days I’d doubt myself but maybe it was willpower, or just simply my spirit throttling my vessel screaming “ You’ve got this,” but It all worked out the way either way.I let my doubt go.

Just Breathe// Pearl Jam

I understood the meaning of family even more when Jimmy and I were sipping Vodka sodas at the Saratoga Civic Center watching Marissa cross the stage for her high school graduation. Somewhere in between slow sipping and clapping Jen lost her large $1 Mcdonalds diet coke all over the venue floor.Poppy with no hearing aids stood by with judgment in his eyes while I took “Obituary” pictures. He wondered out loud "What the hell is going on," but his voice was lost in the crowd and he couldn't give damn.

Just like we did 7 summers ago, we took that first ride out to college for move in day except this time it was Marissa's turn.We dropped  Marissa off at college just two weeks shy of Jay and I’s wedding wondering what would transpire in the two weeks before her return. We conspired how her first term would go over chili and chicken tenders at the only bar in town. I heard alot of bitching about leaving a purse behind a dumpster and “I need a fucking smoke.” between gram and pops. With a black coffee and fresh pack of reservation grade cigs, poppy and I hit the road home from SUNY Morrisville. Believe it or not pops spent the entire two hours chatting about the past in a way I never knew he was capable of. I'll never see him the same way again, and i'm content with it. We started out with “ I dont believe in god so when I'm gone just do whatever makes you guys feel good,” and ended with “ I’m glad we got to talk to Nicole, I really liked it. I still don't believe in God but I believe you speak to my mom in your dreams and I can’t explain that.” It was an entire short novel of everything I ever wanted to know explained all at once leaving me with sentiments of peace.

Drive//Alan Jackson

The pivot towards happily ever after did not commence until walking back up the aisle to catch a drink in my hand.  What a magical day we had. Chalking the day up in my mind I anticipated something far less significant than what had actually happened, simply put, a beautiful day. A day that was talked about with anxiety and ten tons of stress for nearly two years straight, amassing to a single day of blissful drinking surrounded by LOVE and all our favorite people. It felt like our own movie premier, except it was the start our "New life". We had a crowd of family stare at us with tears of laughter in their eyes as we shared our first dance to Hootie and the Blow fish’s “Only wanna be with you." If you're wondering it was totally the wrong choice, last minute and we weren't nearly drunk enough to hide how mortified we were swinging each other round and round. Endless bouts of laughter rang throughout the entire night helping to deflect the thought that some of my favorite people in the world weren’t able to be in attendance that day. Despite the potential for rain as my dad predicted, the day was nothing but sunshine and bliss. A few people cried over their ex’s in the corner that I never saw while one guy went fishing in the pond catching a small mouth bass. Shortly after that he managed to drop an entire keg on his head leaving an egg sized welt on his forehead perfectly positioned for his headlamp to rest on. It all came to an end with everyone barefoot, slurring words in the barn at 2 am, muddy from drunkenly falling down the hill that the barn sat upon. With ruined dresses, we ran out of water and woke the next day with black feet and nothing but giggles. 

Galaxy// Quavo

Controversial to popular opinion, honeymoons are not easy breezy lemon squeezy and probably shouldn't be taken immediately after your wedding day unless you're prepared to melt from exhaustion prior to landing someplace thousands of miles from home. I will admit it was pretty cool to ride in a cop car through Newark airport while also being personally escorted through TSA all thanks to Josh. After that Jay and I tumbled fast, hitting EU soil with peak levels of bitchiness letting Mallorca test my zen before even getting there. European mannerisms are something we are still coming to terms with and my Spanish is still B2 at best despite Laura’s constant push for me to do more and be better. "Nico, you can do this, it will be easy, you know this." No one told me it was Catalonian Spanish..

If it weren't for Jason driving on 3 hours of sleep and a Xanax I'm not sure we would have survived the first 8 hours on the island (Ok I would have made it but it wouldn't have been an endless laugh).There is no other person on this earth I could imagine driving a fiat with into a plaza full of people..No one else I could picture driving down a one lane country rode with singing Quavos “Fuel Up” and crashing into a rock wall,forcing me to get out of the car and wave down a local for support. It would have been pretty awesome if a camera crew appeared to remind us of that moment of defeat when I bitchly slammed the car door in jays face, saying “STFU ill fix this,” while he sat defeated from the days series of unfortunate events. That tire was the only thing preventing us from entering an air-conditioned unit and I wasn't going to let my man melt away. Senior Tony came to the rescue after I waved him down through barbed fencing, letting me into his gated home to ask in Spanish for support along with his wifi password. All that to find out the parking break was jammed and our rental house had timed AC of 1 hour a day from 3-4am. 

Still,there's no person other than Jay i’d rather crash our vespa with in deadstop traffic just moments before returning the rental. Jay and I are what romcoms are made from. We lived it, we survived and we laughed the entire ride down the one lane mountain rode in one piece. We trash talked the guy with "Love” tattooed on his neck that told jay to never ride a vespa again because he's never been so scared in his life to watch a man ride one like jay.Jay's also the guy I can always count on to make friends with the black girls with the speaker and meet random townies at the bar with. His energy is truly unmatched. Bless his heart for picking me, his one beer queer that pees in dirt parking lots at 10pm on our honeymoon to live with the rest of his life.

6PM en Mallorca/ Eladio Carrion

There would be days where I was simply vibrating with the need to do it all at once and then some on an empty stomach and a few energy drinks. Healthy wasn't on my radar so I suffered the consequences. It shouldn't have been shocking to learn I was diagnosed with HSP (Highly sensitive person) but to be simply put, it felt like someone gave me the answer I’d been looking for my whole life. Jokingly, I now had an excuse for my hangry episodes, dramatic mood drops and inability to tolerate social outings for longer than 2.5 hours before committing an Irish goodbye home to charge my social battery. Swan would say “Hey Nicole, hows your HSP these days,” like an asshole and we’d all laugh at the thought of me actually having a real life crisis and not something I exaggerated. With this revelation I was mildly pissed because it meant Taylor was sort of right in saying I was autistic all those years ago. While she was sneaking cookies in her sock drawer, feeding her 8 month pregnant belly on the o there side of our shared wall, she screamed at me I was autistic because I didn’t care for loud noises or her shitty attitude. On the spectrum or not, I'll let that go too.

Seasons change and things wound down. It's January as I write this with my health intact along with everything else in my mental portfolio. I've stopped hearing from my manager “ Nicole Im worried about your mental health, maybe you should take time off.”  and instead I'm hearing from those around me “Congratulations" and "you should feel so proud." I am proud actually, its a new feeling. I learnt a lot of lessons this year but ultimately it boils down to one simple message that applies to every facet of our existence: Light & Love. Thats it.

As long as youre striving to be as close to light and love as possible, whatever that is for you, then it will all work out in the end. And It really has. My whole life feels lighter just knowing as long as I gravitate towards genuine love and goodness, all good things will follow and come back.

  "The whole universe is always about love and when it isnt about love its about the absence of love."

Thanks for reading,

NRCM

*Want to read my old posts? Curious what about the past, or just simply nosey? Click "Past Work" on the left to read all my old shit.

[vaguelypleasantwombat]

info reblog for @am-i-the-asshole-official

okay i definitely left out waytoo much detail. thats my fault tho i shouldnta posted a rough draft i wrote while on the bus home from a 10 hr shift. i completely agree that i got wayyy off the original topic towards the end. also a weird amount of y'all are assuming like A LOT?? i mean fr do y'all's lil knees hurt from jumping to conclusions?

1. yeah, im being petty as all hell. but not for no reason?? like yeah i can be a dick, but never like just for shits and giggles, someone had to do something where I feel they deserved some wrath. also I WOULD NEVER EVER OUT SOMEONE NOT EVEN MY WORST ENEMY foh wit all that

2. i didnt know his name but he wasnt a complete stranger. and yes, i do know for a fact that he's a white cishet. 100% not queer and is in fact very queerphobic himself.

3. to those saying it was shitty to talk to him like he was "one of us" - omfg i literally talk like that to everyone!!! its just how i talk!!!!!!

4. damn y'all is hateful!! shoulda expected that it is tumblr 🤦🏽always assigning the worst possible intentions. but frfr some of y'all should try anger management/group therapy. im also f u k i n g dead at y'all callin me a bully, y'all sound like these butthurt old ass bigots from my post

aight here's the INFO:

so this guy, we'll call him Jared(40s-50s), was at the resort for close to 2 weeks total. i did what i did in the middle of his 2nd week. the entire first week he was there, he was learning to ski/snowboard. now i work primarily in the Learning Area (i run the conveyors and the gondola), so i saw A LOT of this piece o shit. not once did he, his friends, or his wife ever say or do anything remotely nice to me. i had bruises/cuts on my ankles to my shins from where he repeatedly smacked me with his equipment while getting off the conveyors. with how much he did it, and what he would say to me, it was on purpose. he'd said things like "pfft its [state] what do u expect 😒" when i politely corrected him on my gender, the first time. the next handful of times correcting him, he just ignored me and/or laughed in my face. refused to listen to me about the park rules, would only talk to my white cishet coworkers (YES IK FOR A FACT WHICH OF MY COWORKERS ARE QUEER, AND WHO'S NOT its a small fucking department), and would call me slurs under his breath when he thought i couldn't hear. well, i couldnt hear it, but ive lip read for over a decade, and i definitely know slurs when i read them, especially when theyre said wit such obviously venom. hes poured beer on my sleeves/gloved hands when it was in the negatives outside, because i was collecting his drink (ur not allowed to have alcohol or smoke in the gondola cabins). once, he finished a bar of weed chocolate (we're in a legal state), and then threw the trash on my feet when i asked him to hand it to me. his wife did that wit food wrappers, her half full coffee, and several hand warmers as well. the friends would also throw trash for me to pick up, but they had the decency to not do it directly in front of me. they all thought it was soooooo funny every time😮‍💨 and my job, we're fucking thee front line of customer service at our resort, so im not allowed to actually call this guy out OR really stand up for myself.

eventually id had enough!! id seen him, his friends, and his wife all call me slurs and make fun of my voice and how i acted (like, im a limp wristed, drag wearin ass twink. i have that stereotypical gay lisp, very pronounced too. they stayed makin fun of me all week) and they were being so so so racist (not giving examples on that😐).

the last straw came when he smacked me on the head & in the face (got a cut on my scalp) wit his equipment on the gondola earlier that day, after i told him to be careful cuz i was right there. so the next time i saw him, yeah i wanted to make him feel how he n his made me feel all fucking week. i saw him in his brand new ski suit for the 2nd day, and i just pounced. it was a gotcha type thing, like a "oh y'all're so hateful, treatin me like shit, but u still reppin my colors?" but i cant like actually be rude or shitty to guests so i had to be fake nice about it

and by "a week of hell" i mean he got verbally made fun of for like 3-4 days. and by made fun of, i mean whenever they all saw me they would (playfully, but rough cuz drunken) push him and go "oooooh look he's STILL wearing it😂" and "hahahhaha we should make him give YOU that suit" and, when the wife wasnt there, "lmao maybe he just wants to get with/has a crush you" so like. i was also still bein made fun of at the same time??? just felt better that he was also on my end of it for a while. like y'all he was more than rich enough to have bought a new suit directly after i said that (literally there was a store 500 yards from us), he was just bein a stubborn crotchety old man refusing to "give in to the woke agenda"

as for the "only assuming folks are queer", y'all do know worldwide society at large (specially here in amerikkka) will assume a person is Straight until proven otherwise right? and even then the proofs gotta be indisputable, and even then even then most times it'll still be ignored. so why is it so wrong that i do the opposite? hint: it's not. i dont need huge indisputable proof to believe someone is straight, im not gon ignore when someone says who they are, but im not one to go by the societal norms. to me, everyone is queer until stated otherwise. that guy who couldn't find his gf? was literally watching her live location for the like 3 minutes he and I were talking. its not like we were waiting on a search party or sum🤦🏽calm down. and ykw? the gf was so happy that i said "omg i LOVE y'all's matching bi pride suits🤗", she said they werent bi, but she picked them out cuz she loved the colors, we both agreed that it (the bi flag) looked like a beautiful sunset, like the one we were currently watching. we then gushed over how cute she looked in those colors, and she thanked me for teaching her something new. the only one upset was the bf - that I used they/them for his gf, and that i "insinuated" that he was gay. the "him" was an autocorrect i didnt notice, i only use they/them, or ey/em for folks idk the pronouns for.

nowhere did i insinuate either of these men were queer, i did not and do not out people, and the only reason these people felt "bullied" was because theyre queerphobic and didnt like that i didnt immediately assume they were cishet. so 🤷🏽 sucks to be a bigot tasting they own medicine ig?

the bi flag suit was the design of pic #1, the trans flag suit was the design from pic #2 except the bottom half was solid black

AITA for telling a guest his snowsuit was the trans pride flag?

okay so i work at a super popular ski resort in the midwest, and most of our clientele are white Straights. im like very obviously a tranny. there was one day that this guy came thru, his snow suit was black with the trans pride flag stripes all over it. he was sat in a gondola cabin with about 5 other men. he came by, and i was in a weird mood ig. i gushed over how "cute" his pride flag snow suit and "omg hun where can i get one🤗" and his friends just started going in on him. it was kinda gross to watch, but idk it felt satisfying? they continued to make fun of him relentlessly for the next 3 days, especially whenever they saw me "yooooo look he's still wearing it🤣how hilarious is that"

i know I just put that man thru about a week of hell, but it felt so perversely nice to get one over on a straight white man.

ive actually started doin in to everyone i see in pride flag colors (its a crazy high amount of people???), and like ill only "assume" that folks here are gay

ex: this guy lost his gf on the mountain, and he didnt say her gender so I was calling her "your partner", "oh I hope you can find them soon!", "omg i hope ur bf gets to you asap :(" and he seemed rather frustrated with me over that but like. fuck em?

so. am i the asshole for "assuming" everyone is queer even if its obvious they arent?

What are these acronyms?

[yawnjunie]

so you’re the artsy type, huh ❦ cbg (1)

Genre: fluff, university au, crack (get ready for a bad take on comedy)

Pairing: broke artist!reader x art sponsor!beomgyu

Word count: 7k

Summary: After spending way too much time chasing after an impossible dream, you weren’t too sure you wanted to continue with your lifelong passion— art. One eventful day at the museum steered you onto a road full of twists and turns, and you unexpectedly found yourself wading deeper into murky water with your new employer.

A/N: a huge thank you to @noiaeu​ and @halohyuka​ for being my beta readers! anyways here is a long overdue fic that was a 20k+ word monstrosity but is now a series. happy reading!

— blu and struz

You tapped your feet absentmindedly against the grimy tiles of the cheap burger chain as you waited. The atmosphere that usually felt bustling and welcoming now felt stuffy as your stomach churned each passing second. The waitress walked past your seat as she served the customers behind you, the fragrant aroma of the burgers on her tray prompting a vicious growl from your stomach. Sighing, you checked the time on your phone: 8:52pm. Scrolling past the inactive conversations with your “friends” (you didn’t really know what to call them because you tried to ask them out and got rejected; you’d kept those conversations anyway because you were too attached to them), you sent a quick message to a number you wish you didn’t need to text today. Without a second thought, you picked up your belongings and left the small burger shop.

Thank goodness, you knew just the perfect place to drown your sorrows in.

You called for the nearest taxi to the small food shop by the name of Mrs. Lee’s Mandu House.

“What happened this time?” A stout lady with an apron asked, peeking her head out of the kitchen, setting down a large bowl of dumplings in front of you. She made her way to the condiments shelf. “Kimchi?”

“Yes, please. I got stood up again.” You grumbled, stuffing a large dumpling into your mouth ravenously. Then, speaking through mouthfuls of food, you continued. “Maybe I should just stop trying altogether. Change my major to agricultural studies and move to the countryside while I’m at it.”

Food had never tasted so good! The savory filling of the dumplings literally melted in your mouth, and soon the blaring sound of the old AC and the sound of the kdrama from the TV had just blended into the background. It was nice not having to listen to anything.

“Aw, don’t say that.” The woman replied as she set down a pot of kimchi and a plate of kimbap on your table. The friendly ahjumma took her seat across from you and set down a bag of melon seeds. “Trust me, it’s going to be hard. You’re just in your first year of college! You’ll get there someday.” Then, she continued on to tell you about other people she knew who had it harder than you, but all that faded into the background noise, along with the AC and the TV. That sentence was the only thing you heard, and although there weren’t any lemons in the soup, everything that you ate suddenly started tasting sour. Sometimes, even the best food cannot drown out the bitterest words.

You’ll get there someday.

Foomp. You flopped onto your bed with a small grunt as your back met the soft mattress. Throwing off your glasses to the side, you massaged your eyeballs and then looked at the ceiling. It was grey. The same grey that you saw before going to sleep at night, the very same grey that greeted you when you awoke in the morning to another unexciting day. The more you stared at it, the more the popcorn ceiling looked just like a grey mass with a few monotone specks here and there.

You were always told to look to the future and stop dwelling on the past. And that was a long shot, given that all you saw in front of you was a blurry ceiling.

What is this feeling? You let yourself sink a little deeper into your mattress, lazily shifting your gaze to the left, where you saw your huge Gabriel Garcia Marquez poster taped to the wall. Solitude. Looking back, you supposed that was how you’d been living your life thus far.

Doing jobs here and there, never really achieving anything big.

Single as hell.

It was days like this that made you feel not quite sad, but just really demotivated. A reminiscent smile flickered on your face as you turned your head to stare at the wall, unto which the light that peeked through the overcast sky cast a faint shadow. Words like “lonely” and “outcast” didn’t mean a thing to you. The fact of the matter was, you didn’t have anyone, and the universe sure didn’t put an effort to sugarcoat that fact.

Rolling lazily to the edge of the bed, you finally sat yourself up. You walked over to your desk, pulled out the wooden chair, and turned on the lamp. Then, you took a moment to tie up your hair before looking down at what was lying under the spotlight of the lamp.

Amidst the blizzard of eraser shavings and the familiar scent of freshly shaved wood stood the lead outline of a girl. Shoulder-length hair up in a high ponytail, a soft, rounded nose, chapped lips, and blank, unsuspecting eyes with dark circles hanging below them. Looks like she’s never seen a day of joy in her life. Looking into the mirror standing to the left on your desk, a very tired girl with a dark face stared right back. Dusting off the eraser shavings into the trash bin next to the desk, you commended yourself for the superb self-portrait. 

At the insistence of the tightness in your right wrist and the crick in your neck, you set the pencil down and extended your arms to stretch your back. When your eyes fell upon the drawing once more, a wave of disappointment washed you back onto the shore of frustration. Yet another addition to the ever-growing pile of wasted white paper. A part of you argued that art was not a waste, which was true enough. Art made by you, however, was a different story.

What happened to me? All that time, effort, and energy never really amounted to much. After all, you’d only seen the world in black and white. It was as if someone took a giant paint tube and squirted an awful lot of grey paint everywhere.

After all, who’d ever heard of an artist who couldn’t tell orange from blue?

–––

Even the song playing in the background mocked you with every word.

♪ I see trees of green,

red roses too ♪

♪ I see them bloom,

for me and you ♪

♪ and I think to myself

what a wonderful world ♪

You glanced around tiredly as you saw your classmate’s boyfriend carry a stack of canvases for them. For someone who, one: saw the world in grey, and two: had never gone on a date, the world was anything but wonderful. You felt your eyelids drooping despite the hard, wooden stool jutting into your buttcheeks. Drowsily, you turned your gaze to your art pieces. Noticing the other students coming in to set up their pieces, you straightened up your back and set your bag down on the stool. You took a deep breath and swung your arms nervously in an attempt to garner a sense of purpose and hope. You got this! You whispered encouraging phrases to yourself under your breath, smiling at the students who bothered to greet you first.

Today was your first time participating in a student exhibition. Although it was quite unconventional for first year students to be showcasing their work in the advanced exhibition, your teacher had been nice enough to make a spot for you. Well, it was more like you practically begging her to consider you, because of your current family situation. You terribly did not want to sound like that broke college student™, but sometimes, a little bit of courage to fight against the stone cold reality was useful. And of course, Ms. Kim, being the benevolent soul she was, granted you special rights to participate.

This year, the exhibition was being held in the empty room at the Museum of Modern Art. Attendance of the students was optional, but a good handful of them came, hoping to get a professional review, or even a sponsor for their art. The moment you walked in, you held your breath—the entire room was empty, all six surfaces painted white. It was the brightest room you’d ever been in, yet the temperature seemed to drop 100 degrees.

It’s fine. This time, things will be different, you told yourself in an attempt to shake off the dread that settled in the pit of your stomach. Fifth time’s the charm, after all.

It may have been your first time participating in a college exhibition, but you’d participated in countless art competitions as a kid. You were like a wildfire, and there was no award for a competition you entered that you didn’t win. Now, it felt like you were back to base one. After all, who has that easy of a life? Those days of your easy childhood life were long gone.

You tried not to think much as you sat uncomfortably next to your paintings. For the first hour or so, you made a point to look each passing person in the eye, a wide smile plastered on your face. The second hour, the corners of your mouth started to twitch beyond your control. By the third hour, you found yourself staring at people’s shoes more often than their faces. As the minutes ticked by, you kept your eyes trained intently on the floor, mouth pressed firmly closed. Glancing around the room, you tried to take your mind off of your worries. But you couldn’t help but be envious of your classmates, who were getting noticed by the professional guests.

That’s okay, there’s always next time. Guess today just wasn’t my day.

It was beginning to feel like no day was your day. A warm sensation pricked at the corners of your eyes when a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Ma’am, excuse me.” A woman in a worn out blue outfit approached your stand. 

Being as desperate as you were, you hastily wiped away your tears from all the yawning and slapped a smile on your face, mustering up the peppiest voice you could manage. “Hey! How can I help you? As you can see, I work exclusively in grayscale, and I mostly do portrai–” “Miss–” the lady interrupted, “it’s closing time. Could you please pack your things?”

Upon processing the sight of the tattered mop in her hand, realization hit you like a truck, and not just any ordinary truck— it was a Belaz 75710 filled with 496 tons of rocks and sharp glass. That was a fun fact you stumbled upon while scrolling on Instagram; the fact that you somehow retained this useless information made you silently curse yourself. Your smile was frozen in place as you gave a series of curt nods. “Oh. Okay, I’ll start packing.”

The kind woman nodded back and started to walk away, but stopped and turned just a few steps away. “Don’t feel too down. Sometimes, life just doesn’t go the way you want it to. It’ll get better, trust me.”

“Yeah.” You replied coldly, not bothering to mask your sadness. Attempting to muster a small smile in gratitude for her kind words, you gave her a thumbs up before she left the room. It kind of hurt, getting pity from the janitor. But in a way, you felt a little comforted. At least you knew you weren’t the only person struggling. Robotically, you placed the canvases onto your utility cart one by one, then started folding up the easels. When the janitor’s footsteps had faded away, the only thing disrupting the silence was the rain. 

Plip. Plop. With the accompaniment of the beating of the raindrops on the rooftop that rang in your ear like a dull symphony, it only seemed natural for your tears to fall. And this time, there was nobody to interfere with your sob session. 

And on that afternoon, in the empty art hall, you cried your heart out. There was only one question that gnawed at the back of your mind relentlessly, like a famished dog on a bone twice its size. Should I just give up on art? The thought of it just made you cry even harder. Art was your everything.

From the moment you’d grasped the thin body of the paintbrush on your doljabi, you’d fallen in love with art. Throughout your childhood, you’d spent your days drawing. From drawing on plain computer paper to painting entire murals on your bedroom walls - you did it all. Everyone was sure you’d become an artist when you grew up. You’d even kept a money jar by your bed, which you’d used to store money for new art supplies and eventually, art school. You were happy. You had a good eye for color. 

Thunder crashed outside as that memory resurfaced in your mind. Back then, you drew like there was no tomorrow when you could see colors. Until the world became dark when your colors, your precious colors were taken away. And the world remained dark ever since. They all pitied you, sending a sigh your way in condolence for your loss. You didn’t need or want their pity, of course. All you’d ever wanted was an answer, a reason to why they left your eyes. 

You wanted to blame it on something, but what could you do? Every night you prayed, praying desperately for your colors back. But every morning, the ceiling remained grey. So did the sky when you walked to work. Pushing your shabby cart with a loose wheel down the hallway full of eccentric art pieces, you didn’t even spare a glance at them. Well, other than to avoid being noticed by the few people who were still in the museum, to which you hid your swollen face in the opposite direction and choked back your sobs. Well, what can you do now, y/n? It’s not your first time participating in an exhibition anyway. There’s probably someone out there having it harder than you, so suck it up! Everything will be better once you get back home… 

Just when you were nearing the entrance of the museum, you heard a different pair of footsteps from your own behind you.

“Hey.” You jumped out of your skin at the tap on your left shoulder. Caught by surprise, you found yourself stumbling backwards into your cart. You lost your footing and down crashed your rear end. By attempting to hold onto the cart handle for balance, your art pieces now seemed to fall in slow motion, the cart suspended in the air as your mouth hung open in horror. You reached out to grab it, but unfortunately, you were an aching 2 centimeters short of saving your artwork. The cart toppled on top of your canvases with a comical crack, wooden splinters flying everywhere. The empty utility cart squealed defeatedly as it toppled to its side, a loose wheel still spinning.

You felt your head spin even faster, as you grew increasingly frustrated by your inability to comprehend what had just happened. Holy shit.

Strewn across the floor, battered and broken, lay hours upon hours of your time, your hard-earned money, along with the last strains of your hope of becoming an artist. F*ck!

Eyes wide and mouth agape, you turned to face the perpetrator of the tragedy. 

This is the part where he apologizes and promises to make it up to me, then gives me his contact info and we go on a date and he falls for me and we live happily ever after. Or so you hoped, you thought. The thought was so ridiculous that you could have burst out into laughter if it hadn’t been for the fact that the fruit of your blood, sweat, and tears was now a bunch of broken wood and torn cotton on the floor. F you and your last brain cell, y/n. Get yourself together and snap out of it. You were convinced that you were so sleep deprived from your K-drama binging session this morning at 4am that you’d convinced yourself that you were living the next episode.

Chances were low that the two of you would get together and live happily ever from an offense like this, but even so, he would have to compensate for the damages somehow. Now that you came back to reality, you realized that you couldn’t even make out what the guy in front of you looked like. “Okay, but what if he’s like, your next patron or something.” You don’t know if you muttered that out loud, but your odd behavior was really annoying you today. Shut up, it's not like he's Song Kang! Stop it! Nevertheless, you bet on the Balenciaga slides that he was wearing that he would pull out a business card the next moment.

You stared into the boy’s eyes expectantly and he met your gaze. You felt your pulse quicken as he opened his mouth to speak, eagerly awaiting your compensation. Hello hello, my next patron. This is the moment that marks my upgrade to a better life.

“I am so, so sorry about this.”

“You should be.”

As he spoke, the boy pulled his cap lower and threw on his hood. “Not just about me breaking your paintings, but also this.” Dammit, what have I gotten myself into?

And then he bolted.

🏃 💨

“Wha– hey! Where do you think you’re going?!”

He slammed his body against the glass door and ran into the rain while you followed in close pursuit. However, after a few wobbly steps, it occurred to you that you weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion, so you took off your heels and continued the hunt barefoot. 

Still, even under normal circumstances, you weren’t much of a track star. Wearing a blazer with suit pants and no shoes wasn’t helping your chances either, and the weather didn’t seem to plan on making things any easier.

The two of you ran through the heavy rain like cat and mouse. Clenching your teeth and your fists, you chased after the boy. He ran about two blocks before you caught up to him. As your calves grew sore, you considered hurling one of your heels at him.

The boy slowed down for a couple of seconds, looking around frantically. Mr. Kim.....! I told you to wait for me out here—!

Heaving a sigh, he turned around and began to run in another direction. And although he'd hate to admit it, today was one of the days where he had no choice but to admit that his choice of footwear today was a fatal flaw.

Somehow, despite the odds against you, you weren’t the one who ate the pavement. The boy tripped over the curb and slammed into the sidewalk, bellyflopping straight into a gargantuan puddle. Those Balenciagas did not help him run through the rain very well. You laughed in triumph and squatted next to his almost-lifeless body. 

“Gotchu now, you jer–” 

Boom! The world went white for a second, illuminated by the blinding clap of lightning. In an instant, the downpour increased tenfold, the raindrops now feeling like bullets against your skin. 

“Okay, maybe this isn’t the best place to have a conversation.” 

–––

The two of you trudged through the rain—or, more accurately— you dragged the boy through the rain, your grip on his hoodie sleeve iron-tight. When you finally reached your car, you opened the passenger door and he went in obediently. From an outsider’s point of view, you might’ve been mistaken as an undercover cop. In fact, you were sure feeling like one as you apprehended the criminal.

You went around to the back and opened up the trunk, where after rifling through months' worth of empty bottles, fabric bags for shopping, and a variety of other car junk, you finally found your stash of somewhat clean clothes. After careful consideration, you chucked a worn hoodie and the swimming shorts you’d worn to the beach last year over the seat. Just in case, you also tossed your first-aid kit over. You threw your heels in and swapped them for a pair of nylon flip flops before slamming the trunk closed. 

You went back to the passenger’s side and opened the door. Taking in the figure of the drenched and bleeding boy, you kind of felt sorry for him. Which was stupid, considering he had just wrecked your life’s work and made a run for it. You tilted your head back and sighed, trying to sort your thoughts out. 

With all of your best art pieces now reduced to splinters, it was a cold, hard fact that you weren’t going to get a sponsor. Besides, even before they’d been smashed into smithereens, nobody had been willing to give you a chance. The probability of you finding a sponsorship was like the graph of the height of a ball thrown from a cliff at sea level, or the number √-1. It was not just in the negatives, but it was also imaginary.

Taking a sharp inhale, you talked as quickly as you could. “Listen. I’m going to go get what’s left of my art from the gallery. Just change your clothes and patch yourself up, then you can leave.” You paused to dig out a few crumpled dollars from your wallet, which you promptly threw at him. 

“Here, take this to get a taxi. I don’t know how far you live, but that’s all I have. Don’t get me wrong– I still think you’re a massive schmuck. And there’s nothing you can do to fix the damage you’ve caused.” Despite your best effort to remain composed, your voice cracked a little at the end. You stopped talking before you were to break out into tears again.

Without waiting to hear what the douchebag had to say, you slammed the door closed and strode through the rain back to the gallery, where your pieces still lay broken on the ground where you’d left them. A part of you was hoping that maybe, by some magic or miracle, the whole thing had been a dream, and nothing really happened. 

But reality was as cold as stone, and you were powerless to change it. So, as you always did when confronted with the unchangeable, you picked yourself up and carried on, struggling against the current. 

By the time you wheeled the broken canvases back to your car, the boy was long gone, all traces of his presence vanished except for the dampness of the left side passenger seat. You buckled on your seatbelt and tuned into your favorite radio station, then sped off into the summer storm. The storm, your artwork, it was all so out of the blue– well, in your case, grey.

The situation on the freeway was like a stuffy nose: irritated and congested. In fact, it would’ve been faster to moonwalk down the road. To make matters even worse, instead of music, the radio station was streaming ad after ad. Is this even legal? Exasperatedly, you tuned into a different station, then another one, but to no avail; all of them were on ad break. 

It was frustrating enough that the gallery was a complete flop, not to mention that your best art was demolished in a hit and run and that you were sitting soaking wet on a leather seat stuck in the middle of traffic. Now, even the radio had turned against you. You shut it off and sat in silence.

Thump. You sighed and leaned your head back against the seat, willing the migraine that was building up in your head to f*ck off. After craning your head to check the backseat one more time, to your vexation, you found that the asshat hadn’t even bothered to close the first aid kit.

Muttering obscenities under your breath, you reached for the kit, cracking your inflexible spine 4 times in the process. You rummaged through its contents, straightening them out, counting how many were left, and you were about to slam the lid closed when you saw the note. 

XXX-XXX-XXXX

“Well, gee, that’s REAL helpful.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the ten numbers scrawled on the note. Your half a brain cell told you to quit being stupid and toss that note out the window.

The rest of your stupid self told you to call it. I mean, why not? You cursed yourself for how your brain worked– or rather, didn’t work– sometimes.

You licked your lips in brief contemplation before punching in the numbers in. The person on the other end picked up immediately. 

“Hello, welcome to Papa John’s Pi–”

You hurled your phone into the backseats and ripped the note up, throwing the scraps into the air like confetti before continuing the wearisome ride down through the rain. 

–––

It took an eternity, but you made it back to your apartment, where you promptly crashed onto the couch. As per usual, you spent the rest of your waking hours scrolling through baking videos, even though you had neither the ingredients nor the time to be making any of the confections. At around 8pm, exhausted from crying and the events of the day, you dozed off without having a bite of the frozen pizza that’d just finished baking in the oven.

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Your dreamless slumber was disturbed by the vibration of a string of text notifications and the glow that lit up the dark ceiling. Still half-asleep, you blindly felt around for your phone and attempted to read the message through bleary eyes.

It was from an unknown number.

Rubbing your eyes to clear out the nasty gunk, you sat up and read the message again, this time with clearer vision. 

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] Hello, sorry for ruining your paintings today. I will make it up to you.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] Thanks for bothering to call, let’s meet at this address to talk about your compensation. My parents can’t know that I did this so it would be great if you could keep this a secret :(

What the f*ck. You muttered under your breath, eyes half shut. Did I call anyone? In your half-asleep state, you didn’t bother to recall. For a second, you considered blocking the number. But just in case this was just one of your dumbass friends who changed their number, you decided to give that person a reply.

[You] hello? is this papa john’s?? i would like a cheese pizza

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] oh sorry the voicemail was a prank for someone else

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] i’m the guy from the art museum earlier, remember

[You] okay why do you have my number

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] because you called me

[You] right. okay, what do you want

[You] unless you want to pay me back for all those damages back there, no i am not interested in anything else sry i’m a very busy person you know

You hesitated a second before pressing the send button. You’d just sent a lie; in fact, you weren’t really that busy. Apart from your part time job at the boba shop, you were actually quite free most of the time. During the summer, at least. In fact, your screen time had gone up by 42%, your daily average now totaling to a whopping 12 hours. After a minute or so of silence, you threw your head back onto your pillow and let out a loud sigh of relief. Peace at last! It also made you quite happy that the person who texted you was in the least, not some weird scammer. 

Ping! You celebrated too soon. Reaching for your phone groggily, you read the new message.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] okay then i was going to ask if you were free tomorrow

Am I being asked out? You squinted at your bright phone screen in the dark. You might have been nearsighted, but you weren’t illiterate in pick-up lines.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] i want to return the clothes you lent me

[You] it’s fine, you can keep that

Oh good, he was talking about the clothes, not anything else. Your millisecond of relief ended quickly when he sent another message.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] oh also it would be great if we could meet up anyway? i want to talk to you about something that i had been meaning to say for a while

Oh, god. I knew it wasn’t just about the clothes. Lonely as you were, you would shoot yourself in the foot if you got into any relationship without landing a stable job or having any money. Scoffing amusedly, you stared at the screen as he continued to type. But dating someone like this? Never in a million years. Turning over to your other side, you thought about the many ways you could reject him.

[You] no sorry :(

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] we should set a date at the cannoli restaurant to talk about your compensation costs. i’m extremely sorry for ruining your beautiful artwork, and i know that my apologies will do nothing to change your current situation. since this is my fault, i’m willing to pay any amount you request (and i’ll pay to the best of my capabilities)... i’m assuming $50,000 would be enough to cover the costs for most of the damage? if monetary compensation doesn’t work for you, we can discuss other forms of compensation as well.

[You] i know it may not seem like it but i’m actually caught up in too much work to have time for dating anyone. you see, it’s just that i have lots of work on the side so i can’t really spare time at the moment. please don’t take this personally haha i’m sure you’ll find someone,,, like i don’t know how to say this but yeah…..you don’t wanna be w someone like me, it’s me not you

Huh? Just as you sent your message, another message popped up before yours. And if your life had a background narration, this very moment would have been “and in that moment he knew. He fvcked up.” 

Fml.

With just one single message, you perhaps have ruined the only god-given opportunity to turn your life around ever. He’d just offered you money to cover the costs of your broken paintings... now that you thought about it, he could even be your patron! You couldn’t even get a patron even if you went out of your way to look for one on Craigslist, pestered Ms. Kim for any news from the Art Teacher’s Association, or even begged random people on the street in hopes one out of the million people would be willing to promote your art. Now, someone was asking to compensate you with tons of money, and you’d just rejected him in the most embarrassing way possible. 

[You] oh shoot

[You] i mean wrong chat, uh can you please stay on hold, i will get back to your compensation offer, yeah i will see you at the restaurant sometime thanks

XXX-XXX-XXXX is typing…

You did not bother to see what he had to say. Hurtling your phone onto your carpet, you let out a guttural scream of “I AM SUCH A DUMB@$$$” before pulling the strings on your hoodie tightly. And for the second time that day, you cried.

———

Leaving behind the upsetting events from a couple of days ago, you listlessly shuffled through the entrance. It was Saturday morning, and that meant groceries. The local Asian market was one of your favorite places to be; breathing in the familiar blend of spices that hung in the air was a cathartic feeling. The corners of your lips were turned slightly upwards as you bent to grab a basket.

First stop was the meat section, where the bugged-out eyes of dead fish followed you as you walked down the aisle. Cooking raw animal flesh wasn't really your thing, so you simply picked up a package of pre-cooked chicken and went on your way.

Next came the produce section where you felt up all the tomatoes, only bagging the ones that felt the right amount of firm and soft. You also added a pack of bok choy and mushrooms, perfect for cooking up a lazy soup.

Now that you were nearing the end of your expedition, it was time to head into the best part of the store: the snack aisle. Sometimes, when you were feeling more down than usual, you would blow the whole sum of your weekly grocery savings on off-brand shrimp chips and chocolate banana Pocky. One by one, you were doing all the things your mom had told you not to do when you moved out, from coating the entirety of your insides with nothing but sodium and sugar to shifting your sleep schedule by 15 hours. 

What was next, the-no-dating-boys-until-you’ve-gotten-your-Master’s-and-have-a-7-figure-job rule? You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Even if your stomach was totally trashed and your sleep schedule was nonexistent, you would never let yourself fall that far.

As you stepped foot into the chips aisle, you beheld the holy grail. From Hello Panda to rice crackers, wasabi peas to Yan Yan sticks complete with a chocolate dip, cream wafers to dried seaweed, you were in a sea of temptation. Being that broke college student™, you just gulped and kept walking. I can just feast on these goodies with my eyes.

Your initial plan had been to just walk through the aisles to admire and drool over snacks you knew you couldn’t afford, but you were stopped in your tracks when you reached the instant noodles section. 

At the end of the aisle, the shelf was bare except for a single lone pack. Even from a distance, you recognized it, all right; there was no mistaking the outline of your favorite instant ramen brand. 신라면. More like 神라면 (it’s more than just spicy noodles— it’s noodles made by the gods) you thought, eyes already tightly clutching at the packaging from 5 feet away.

From many a sleepless night of binge-watching third-rate rom-com dramas (though you cringed thinking back on it, this was an integral phase of your dark “past”), you knew where this was going–– but you weren’t going to sit around and let yourself fall into some overused trope. You gripped your basket tight as you swiftly made your way over to the shelf, just about setting a world record for speedwalking with a basket.

Sure enough, if you had been one second slower, you would’ve been ensnared in a sticky situation. Just as you were snatching up your prey like the pterodactyl you were, another figure was rounding the corner. Another broke college student™, it seemed, judging by the state of their hoodie, which was pulled over their messy hair, the strings tied in a bow to make sure the hood wouldn’t fall. Even though their face was concealed by their hood, you could see their reaction as they connected the dots from the bare shelf to the ramen pack in your hand.

“Hey–” they started, reaching towards you, but you promptly dropped the pack into your basket, spun on your heel, and noped out of the aisle before you could be confronted. You felt sorry because you could sympathize with their situation, but you were in no place to be kind to others. Not in this dog-eat-dog world. To survive, you’d have to stay on top of the food chain.

You were about to fall in line when you remembered that you were all out of Sriracha sauce. You could deal with giving up your Pocky and shrimp chips as long as you had your favorite condiment in stock; no matter how down you were, scrambled eggs with a heaping squirt of Sriracha always took you up to Cloud Nine. If you were going to leave something behind, it would never be the Sriracha sauce.

After grabbing a bottle from the condiment aisle, you scanned the checkout desks for the shortest line. Luckily, a new checkout desk had just opened on the left, so you scampered over and placed your basket onto the counter. The clerk was a kind-looking old woman, but was surprisingly agile for her age. As you waited for her to bag the large span of items that belonged to the grandpa in front of you, you opened up your phone to check your budget. You eyed the message app with two unread messages temptingly before going into your bank app. This was a lucky trip~ thankfully ramen isn’t too expensive. Even if it wasn’t on my grocery list, a few cents won’t make too much a difference. I think I can spare enough to get a Pocky next time.

At long last, the grandpa shuffled away with his cart filled with some veggies, a thick stack of newspapers, and an unusually large stash of rice crackers. While the clerk scanned and bagged your items, you continued to fiddle with your phone until she cleared her throat. 

“Would you like a single receipt, or two separate ones? Because there’s a divider between your items.”

“Excuse me?” “You and your boyfriend. By the way, you guys look really cute together, especially with your hoodies~ are you on a date?”

You spun around only to come face to face with the broke college kid from the ramen aisle. Well, that’s awkward. The cashier must have been blind or deaf (or both) because you didn’t even interact with that boy. You stole glances of the customer through your peripheral vision, trying to see what he looked like. Hmm, do I know him? He looked uncannily familiar. Just then, another realization dawned on you. A terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad one. Your expression quickly changed from one of confusion to one of pure shock.

Surprise, surprise. It was the douche from the art gallery. And he was wearing your old hoodie.

“I-I don’t know him.” Before he could open his mouth to say anything, you quickly looked away, feigning ignorance. Unfortunately for you, the old clerk had seen much in her day and your little ruse wasn’t going to slip past her that easily. 

“From the flushed look on your face and the stammer in your voice, I’m pretty sure you do. And I’m sure he would agree, wouldn’t you, lover boy~?”  

And… cue to the horrified look on lover boy’s face. The conflict that was playing out in his mind showed on his face; he knew that if he answered this wrong, he would be facing your wrath.

“Uh, well, the thing is…” He shot you a nervous glance, but your features were stone cold. At a total loss for what to say, the boy just trailed off and turned his eyes to his basket. Following his gaze, you looked over his items and immediately recoiled in disgust. 

Not a single leafy green (grey) in sight, no meat, no rice, not even one of the food groups necessary to sustain life. Strawberry ice cream mochi, Taiyaki, strawberry Melona bars, Choco Pies, strawberry Hi-Chew, strawberry Chocorooms, strawberry Pocky–– it seemed that strawberry was a recurring theme among his groceries.

Even though the sheer amount of sugar made you gag, a pang of jealousy flashed across your face. That was the life you’d longed for ever since you finished high school: living off of nothing but sugar and carbs, looking like a bum and not giving a damn about it, just chilling. 

Unfortunately, with the number of failures and setbacks that stained your past, a carefree life was something you could no longer afford. 

“Yeah, okay, we’ve met,” you cut in, saving the boy from the tricky situation. Skeptic, the clerk stared into your unblinking eyes for what seemed to be a solid 15 seconds before shrugging and handing you your groceries. You snatched up your fabric bag and went on your way, walking fast. The color in your cheeks was probably the same as a tomato. Your least favorite fruit.

Why him, of all the places? Why, universe? Where did I go wrong? You were about to drop dead from embarrassment. As you closed your eyes, you could see your tombstone: “Rest in Peace y/n, died alone and patron-less.”

However, what you didn’t know was that your day was about to get worse. A whole lot worse. It all started when you felt a familiar tap on your left shoulder. I swear– You took a deep breath in and let it out slowly to compose yourself and answered without turning around. 

“What in God’s good name do you want. And why are you wearing hobo clothes.” My clothes, you realized, a tiny bit weirded out.

“They’re comfy,” he pouted, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his newfound hoodie as if to show off. “Anyways, how come you didn’t check your phone earlier?

“Oh, uh,” you felt the pressure in your head rising as you recalled how you threw your phone down in embarrassment and cried. “Sorry, I was feeling kinda down because a certain someone sorta trashed my life’s work and my only chance of being successful in the industry, sooooo yeah. My bad.” 

Sniff. You looked up, startled, only to find that the boy in front of you had tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. His mouth was clamped closed, but his bottom lip was quivering and his eyebrows were turned up, resembling a small child trying to keep himself from bursting into tears after falling and scraping his knee on the pavement. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Well shit. There were two ways you could go about this: one, let your superego do the talking like a good person and prevent the boy from having a total meltdown in the middle of the sidewalk. The second was letting your id run rampant, taking full advantage of his feelings of remorse and overall just being a jerk. Maybe you could be distant and lacking in empathy, but you weren’t an asshole because you wanted to be one. 

“Listen, I’m sorry for calling you a schmuck. A schmuck would not have bothered to keep in contact and a schmuck would not be on the verge of tears out of guilt. ...I accept your apology.” You were going to say that what he did was unforgivable, but you decided no to say that. After a pang of guilt jabbed into you, you bit your lip and softened your tone. 

“I know you feel bad, but you don’t need to cry; there’s no way to turn back time. So instead, let’s move forward and keep looking up. I’ll start.” Smiling slightly with a tilted head, you held out your hand. “Hi, my name is y/n. I know that we’ve technically met, but this is the first time we’ve met met. So, nice to meet you.”

He wiped his tears away with the butt of his palm and tried to return the smile, though his was more watery. “Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Beomgyu.” You noticed the corners of his lips curl upwards in a small smile as he took your hand, shaking it firmly.

There was a pause of awkward silence as you let go of his hand, wiping your sweaty palm on your sweatpants. Well that was the most awkward introduction I’ve ever had in my life. Clearing your throat, you spoke again to clear the tense atmosphere.

“About my compensation.”

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 3 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter three

|Emily Fox|

In the next couple of days, Charlie comes to the Music Store every single day. With a different excuse every time. On Wednesday he’s there to pick up some guitar strings, then sits down and plays the guitar again while I clean. On Thursday, he needs some polish but leaves right after. The Friday, he buys some sheet music. Today is Saturday, which means I have to work an entire day. From morning until evening. It’s the most tiring of all the shifts, but it brings the most money. So, I can’t complain. The mornings in the Music Store are slow most of the time. Just the occasional musician walking in and purchasing something or trying one of the instruments. At lunch, Ash is there to take over from me for a moment until the real hustle comes and then it’s both of us ready to react to everything and anything that happens. When I get back from my lunch break, the store is jam-packed, but all I can see and hear is Charlie playing guitar in the back. All I can see is his orange beanie, but he’s playing the same song he was when he came here on Monday, so I’m 100% sure it’s him. No doubt about it. I’m desperate to talk to him, but the other customers take up all of my time and it’s not until I’m about to lock up for the day to work on my songs when Charlie himself walks up to me. “Are Saturdays always this busy?” he asks as I’m sorting out my own sheet music. “Mostly, yeah,” I reply without looking up at him. He follows me to the piano and watches me as I sort the papers again and again, mostly because of nerves. “You write your own music?” He then asks, “I’ve been working on this song, but I can’t seem to finish it.” Without saying another word, Charlie strums his guitar and the most beautiful melody reaches my eardrums. “Step into my world Bittersweet love story about a girl Shook me to the core Voice like an angel, I've never heard before” I freeze, realizing the song I’ve been working on would fit perfectly with that melody and after that verse. ��Here in front of me Shining so much brighter than I have ever seen Life can be so mean But when he goes I know he doesn't leave” I can feel Charlie standing inches behind me as he glances over my shoulder at the sheet music I’m holding up with the chorus of the song. “The truth is finally breaking through Two worlds collide when I'm with you Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're” Our voices blend nicely together, sending shivers down my spine. “In perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony” I turn around now as we stop singing. I’ve got nothing beyond that and neither does he, it seems because he stops playing the guitar when our eyes meet. Mere inches away from each other, my breath hitches in my throat. “Not bad, Charles,” I tell him as I bring the scowl back to keep up my tough front. “Not bad? Didn’t you just hear what I heard?” He steps back as he babbles passionately, his golden eyes wide with excitement. “Our voices. They blend so well together. That sounded amazing, Emily!” I raise an eyebrow at him, not impressed with his excitement. I do find it kind of endearing, but I don’t show him that. “Come on, Emily! You can’t deny that what we just this was pretty awesome!” “What I can’t deny is that you’re still here after hours and my boss isn’t going to like that. So, please, leave, Charles.” I glare at him, waiting for him to finally leave so my heart can slow down again. He stays put for a while, however, staring at me in disbelieve before putting the guitar back. “You’re going to have to pay for that guitar one day!” I shout after him, but he doesn’t give much of a reaction, much to my dismay. “Bye, Emily,” he simply says before closing the door behind him. “Bye, Charlie…” I whisper, regaining my composure and allowing myself to breathe again. I don’t know what this boy does to me, but it doesn’t sound too healthy.

On Sunday, I spend my day writing the song I started with Charlie last night. His words have been in my mind since he sang them, and I wrote them down just above my verse. Then comes a second verse, then a bridge, and before I know it, I’ve finished the entire song. I can’t deny what Charlie and I did last night, was pure magic. I’ve never been able to write a song with anyone else but my Uncle Robert, but Charlie’s lyrics just haunted my mind and they weren’t half bad. So, I had no other choice but to add them into the song. They sound perfect with it. Even more so if we turn this into a duet. UGH. This boy. I swear to God.

Taglist: @parkeret​ @lukeys-giggle​

Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

[backtothestart02]

Hazy - 11/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Another chap! I hope you enjoy! It is sans Iris, since this whole fic is in Barry’s POV and Iris is obvs not with him atm. Hopefully it’s still an enjoyable read. Reviews are love!

Commissioned by @andie1223

...

Chapter 11 -

Linda paced back and forth frantically as she talked to the 911 operator about Joe’s condition while Barry did his best to keep Joe conscious and put pressure on the wound. In his heart, Barry knew this wasn’t real, this wasn’t the timeline he belonged in. It didn’t change the fact that this Joe West looked just as much as the one he knew, felt like him, loved like him. He couldn’t let him die. And he couldn’t shake the fact that if he’d had his speed, he would’ve been able to stop that bullet and keep Iris from being kidnapped. He would’ve been healed from Eddie’s beating him up just two days ago too.

“Come on, Joe, stay with me. Stay with me,” he repeated over and over.

Joe just nodded on the floor, trying to help him put pressure, but he was losing feeling in his limbs, and it was a fight to stay conscious.

“What the hell is taking so long?”

Barry reared his head up, glaring at Linda unintentionally.

“I don’t know,” she whisper-mouthed back, then repeated the insult into the phone to a far too calm operator, as far as the two of them were concerned.

Luckily though, paramedics burst through the door just shortly after and put Joe on a stretcher. Barry wanted to go with him. It was his first instinct. But given Linda had told the crime that had taken place over the phone, police also showed up and refused to let either of them leave until they’d taken their statements.

“He’s going to be fine,” one of the paramedics said, as they took Joe down the hall.

Barry really wanted to believe that.

After what felt like forever, both he and Linda were escorted out of her apartment, and it was taped off as a crime scene. Barry turned to Linda immediately, about to ask the inevitable, but she held up her hand.

“I’d drive you, Barry, I really would. But right now, I’m shaking so bad I don’t think-”

A stab of guilt hit him in the middle of his chest. Of course she’d be shaken up. She might not be close to Iris or Joe the way he was, but a gun had gone off in front of her, at someone she knew, and then someone else she knew had been dragged off.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, swallowing hard. “Do you have money for a cab?” he asked after a beat.

She managed to suppress a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I have that much.”

They found their way out on the street and were able to hail a cab in no time at all. Traffic was brutal, but within half an hour they were let off at the hospital entrance.

Barry burst through the doors as Linda paid the cab driver and then followed him inside.

“He’s still in Emergency,” he told her, fuming after what the nurses had told him. “We can’t see him, because we’re not related.”

He was furious. He didn’t even know if he’d grown up in the same house with Iris and Joe in this reality, so he couldn’t push that angle with confidence. This was hell.

“Oh, Barry, I’m so sorry.”

He ran his hand through his hair with his good hand and forced himself to take a seat in the waiting room. Linda asked one of the nurses at the front desk for some water for herself and for Barry, which he refused, and then sat down beside him. She set the little paper cup of water on the small table between the chairs for when he was ready.

Barry couldn’t get a grip. He felt like an idiot. This whole time in this timeline he’d just been trying to cope, adjust, win Iris back somehow. He’d felt stuck. Never did it occur to him to make regaining his speed a priority. He’d been 100% focused on getting his relationship with Iris back on track. When he started to lose his speed, he figured that was at least something he could work towards. But now that he was injured and Iris was gone, Joe in critical condition…

He hated that he hadn’t just done that first, hadn’t tracked down Wells and Cisco and Caitlin to devise a plan, to convince them somehow to help him. Yet, thinking on it now, on how much of a one-track mind he had when it came to Iris, he couldn’t imagine him doing things any other way if he had the opportunity to try again.

Linda shifted beside him, and it was enough to pull him from his thoughts.

“How are you doing?” he forced himself to ask, her well-being the furthest thing from his mind, but he knew it was important.

She forced a smile and held up her hand.

“Not shaking anymore, so that’s good. I think it helped to get out of my apartment. Though…I don’t know where I’ll stay until the investigation is resolved.” She frowned.

“You’ll stay with me,” he said instantly.

She looked up, surprised.

“Though…I don’t have a guest bedroom,” he admitted.

“I do well on couches,” she informed him, resting her hand on his constantly moving arm to still him. “I’m short.”

He forced a smile from that, then licked his lips. He had to tell somebody about the timeline he was from, and he knew she was the only one left he could tell. He didn’t know if she’d believe him – who would? But it was worth a shot.

“Thanks, Barry. I don’t know what I’d do withou-”

“Do you believe in past lives?” he interrupted her.

She blinked.

“Uh…random topic.” He waited. “You mean, like…reincarnation?”

His lips twisted.

“No, not exactly… Like, say, you’re living your life and everything’s normal. Then you go to bed and when you wake up everything is different. It’s like a living nightmare that you can’t wake up from. Like a…new timeline on your life.” He frowned and looked up at her crestfallen face. “Does that make sense?”

“Barry.” She reached for his hand. “I know things seem really bad right now, and they are, but that doesn’t mean we won’t get through this. It doesn’t mean this isn’t your life.”

He looked away and sighed. He’d known it would be hard getting through to her. In the aftermath of something traumatic like a gunshot, maybe it was normal to imagine that this wasn’t the life you thought you were living. He didn’t want her committing him to a mental hospital though, so he chose his words carefully.

“Do you have any money left?”

She frowned.

“Some. Why?”

“There’s somewhere I need to be.”

She rose to her feet as he did, blocking his path to the exit.

“What about…Mr. West? Don’t you want to be here when he wakes up?”

He swallowed. He did, but suddenly he’d realized that if he was going to fix what a mess this had all turned out to be, he was going to have to do it alone.

“Can you stay here?” he asked gently.

She blanched. “Me?”

He nodded.

“Why me? He doesn’t even know me. He met me like a minute before he got shot!”

“I…I know.” He tried to soothe her by squeezing one shoulder. “But there’s somewhere I’ve got to be, and it’ll help Joe in the long run. And Iris and…hell, even Eddie.” His lips twisted. “Maybe.”

“Talk to me, Barry. What are you up to?”

He shook his head.

“I need to do this by myself.”

“In your condition? Your pain meds are going to wear off any second now. Then what are you going to do?”

He shrugged helplessly.

“No, no, I am coming with you on whatever crazy adventure you’ve cooked up in your head. I’m coming with you, and that’s final.”

“Linda-”

“Barry-”

The staredown didn’t last long.

“I need to go to STAR Labs,” he finally said.

“The laboratory? Why? Do you know someone there?”

He sighed. “I…used to.”

“What do you mean you u-” She held up a hand to stop both of them from that line of thought. “You know what, nevermind, if that’s where you need to go, then that’s where we’ll go.”

“I really don’t think you should come, Linda,” he tried again, but she was having none of it.

“Well, that’s just too bad, Barry Allen, because I promised you I would take care of you until you were all healed up, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

He pursed his lips, then said, “Okay…”

“Okay, then, let’s go. I’ll call the cab when we get outside. It’s getting crowded in here anyway.”

And then she was out the door, not even waiting for him, but getting on her phone as soon as she was outside, just like she’d said she would.

Barry went to the front desk again and left both of their numbers with the nurse, asking that one or both of them be contacted once Joe was settled in his hospital room or set for release. One of the nurses was a bit of a stickler about how they were bound to be too busy by whatever point that was, but a young nurse cut in and assured him she would make a point of reaching out.

Barry decided to take that with a grain of salt and forced a smile of gratitude before turning around to an impatient Linda, who was waiting by a cab outside.

“STAR Labs,” she told the cab driver once they were inside. “And make it quick!” she said when the guy raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered under his breath, then took off out onto the street.

Barry didn’t say a word, just sat with his head against the window the whole way there. He kept his hands to himself incase Linda would try to comfort him again. He couldn’t afford that right now. He needed a plan, and he knew there was only one person he could get it from.

Dr. Harrison Wells.

…

The laboratory building loomed large when they arrived. It was bigger than Barry remembered, and bustling when they got inside. The crowd seemed to be a mix of visitors and employees, and it dawned on him then that maybe the STAR Labs Museum was operational at this point. But if that was the case, why did the cab driver seem so surprised at their location.

“Museum will be closing in five minutes. Please finish what you are doing and find your way to the exit. Have a great rest of your day!”

Caitlin.

That was her voice alright, and it sounded so…chipper. He wondered if Ronnie was still alive in this timeline, and if he was about to wreck her entire life by making him dead again if he changed things.

Barry weaved through the people, abandoning Linda unceremoniously to get to the customer service desk where, in all her glory, stood the chipper Dr. Caitlin Snow guiding people graciously to the exit with her outstretched arm.

“Caitlin?”

She froze and searched the crowd for who had called her name, and so casually at that. Barry strode forward so he was directly in front of the counter she stood behind. She tilted her head in confusion.

“It’s uh, actually Doctor Snow,” she corrected, pointing to her clip-on nametag. “Do we know each other? The museum’s about to close for the day. You can come back tomorrow though!” she said brightly. “10am sharp.” She smiled.

“I’m not here for the museum.”

She frowned. “Oh? Then what are you here for?”

“Caitlin! Caitlin, Caitlin!” A flustered, suited up Cisco Ramon came sliding in, in between them, and then completely blocked Barry’s vision. “We have an emergency in Room 102,” he said under his breath. “If you know what I mean…”

Her eyes widened. “Cisco, what do y-?” Her eyes narrowed and then widened again, according to whatever face Cisco was making. “Oh. Ohh.”

“Yeah, so if you could stop flirting for two seconds, I would-”

She scoffed. “I was not flirting. I was-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re just lucky Ronnie’s not hear to see it.”

“See what?!”

But he’d tugged her from behind the counter and was dragging her away.

“Sorry, Mister, museum’s closing for the day. Come back tomorrow. Oh, and she’s engaged!” Cisco called back to an offended Barry. “Find somebody else.”

Barry scoffed, irritated by his best friend from another life and his assumptions. If it was his real timeline, he would never-

“I think they’re closing,” Linda said, finally having found him.

Barry sighed. “Yeah, I got that much.”

“Should we go?” she asked, looking around at everyone leaving.

But Barry was determined.

“No. There’s got to be someone else here who can help.”

“Help with what? Your…other life?” she asked, only half-jokingly, really wanting to be entirely joking, he guessed.

So he ignored that, searching instead for another employee, one he did not have any personal relationship with in another life and could help him somehow.

“Excuse me, sir, it’s time to leave.”

Ugh. Not who he was hoping for.

Hartley Rathaway appeared before the two of them. There was no kindness on his face, no politeness. Just determination to stick to the rules and get anyone resisting out by force if necessary.

Probably just by insulting them though, if Barry had to guess.

“Actually, I was hoping you could help me before I go.”

Resigned to the inevitable, Hartley folded his hands in front of him.

“With what exactly, sir?”

“I’d like to set up a meeting with Dr. Harrison Wells.”

Hartley laughed. Just once. Just to show how incredulous of a request it was to his ears.

“Uh, I’m sorry, Mr.?”

“Allen. Barry Allen.”

“Right, Mr. Allen. Dr. Wells does not do meet and greets with civilians. So, if you were hoping to get his autograph…or something? Just, wait for his next book signing. It should be listed on the website. I’m sure you know what that is.”

Barry’s brows narrowed.

“I’m not some sort of…star-struck fan needing an autograph,” he said, even as he realized the irony of his words, because that was in fact who he was once upon a time.

“No? Well then, you won’t find it hard taking no for an answer then.”

“But-”

He reached for the microphone behind the counter.

“Museum is now closed. Please find the exit.” He paused for emphasis. “Now.”

Barry scoffed, but Hartley had no more time for him. He backed away and went to anyone else he saw in the main lobby, ushering them in a gentle manner towards the exit.

“Unbelievable.”

“Maybe we should go?” Linda urged, and Barry sighed.

She had a point, but had he really come all this way just to…give up?

“We can come back tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have better luck then.”

He hung his head, then nodded.

“Yeah, maybe.”

She looped her arm through his, then tugged him towards the doors they’d come through on entering the building.

“Come on, I told the cab driver to wait.”

Barry suppressed a groan. Had she had that little faith in him? He supposed he couldn’t blame her.

“Do you have-”

“Enough to get us back to the hospital? Yeah.” She rubbed his arm encouragingly. “Mr. West should be waking up soon. You’ll want to be there.”

He nodded and followed her into the cab, looking back at the glass-encased building only once before focusing back on the road, unaware of a pair of steely eyes behind glasses watching him closely as he disappeared from sight of the STAR Labs front window.

[221bshrlocked]

Plant Your Seeds

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1604

Warnings: Swearing. Awkwardness. Sweet Fluff!

A/N: I have an entire biblical/theological story to write for one of my classes and I have no motivation and it’s due next week and I have three other projects and I am just not in the mood to do anything. I saw this prompt and had to write it. Hopefully you like it.

The ringing of the door bell broke the hours of silence you’ve remained in since you opened. It was a quiet Friday afternoon and a part of you hoped you wouldn’t get any customers so you’d spend more time planting the new Hydrangea seeds you just bought. You looked up and couldn’t see who just entered, deciding to just wait until the familiar bell rang or someone asked for help. Another ten minutes passed and you realized whoever entered never exited and wasn’t making much noise. 

Quickly wiping your hands of dirt, you walked away from your working station to check on the customer. Turning a corner, you found an incredibly well-dressed man standing in front of the Lavender and Sunflowers. You hated to break whatever trance he was in, mostly because he looked focused and confused at the same time. It was kind of cute. 

“Hello, can I-”

You didn’t realize how focused he was and jumped when he frantically turned around and grabbed his chest, swearing under his breath before stepping back and almost knocking over the few Marigolds left in the bucket. 

“God I am so sorry I didn’t mean to-” The words died in your throat when he finally looked at you, and you realized you really wanted to know what shade of blue his breathtaking eyes were in that moment. 

“Oh n-no that’s my bad I’m,” he seemed to be trapped in the same haze you were in for a second before clearing his throat and continuing, “so sorry I almost knocked those over.” He leaned down and put the bucket back in its place before standing up and pushing the glasses up his nose.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been meaning to put those somewhere else. People keep tripping over them.” You smiled and looked away when you found his eyes too intense to maintain contact with. “Umm, is there anything I can help with?” 

He continued to stare at you before turning towards the sunflowers, his eyebrows immediately furrowing from the long and vibrant colors of the plant. “Would you like me to make you a bouquet of sunflowers?”

“NO!” You didn’t expect the sudden and quiet loud response but you nodded and took a deep breath.

“S-sorry I didn’t mean to- it’s just that I…umm, I’m not here for the sunflowers. Not anymore at least.”

“I see, well I’ll be back there so if you need any help with anything, just holler.” You were about to turn around when you heard him step forward.

“Wait, wait…I do need help actually.” He stood there for a moment and you waited for him to ask but he never did and you immediately knew. He wasn’t the first one to walk into your flower shop feeling this way. The great thing about flower shops was that you always had a glimpse into other people’s lives, sometimes managing to help them out without even knowing.

“Listen, whatever happened, you’ll be okay. Whatever it is you’re feeling right now, it’ll pass. Perhaps not as quickly as you want it to but you’ll keep going. Life keeps going! That’s why I have that sign outside. Flowers can’t solve all your problems but they’re a great way to start. Please, take your time. I’m not going anywhere and you don’t need to rush.” You tapped his shoulder twice before smiling at him and you thought you saw something shift in his gaze but you ignored it. 

You let go and walked to the counter to give him some space. A couple of minutes later, you were balancing something on the check book when you heard him clear his throat to grab your attention. 

He looked much more relaxed than earlier and you were glad he managed to deal with whatever he was thinking of.

“How do I passive-aggressively say “fuck you” in flowers?” 

He was super calm and collected when he asked the question which frankly you never expected to hear from him. And you couldn’t hold back the laugh even if you tried before you realized he was dead serious. You quickly apologized before asking him what he meant.

“I don’t wish to bore you with my sob story because you probably hear many a day than I ever will in a lifetime, and mine is probably extremely low on that scale, but long story short, my girl…my ex-girlfriend cheated on me, in my own apartment, and laughed in my face when I found out it was with one of my closest friends. She just got a promotion and I would love to send her a passive-aggressive bouquet of flowers except I also want it to be delivered to her boss “by accident” because frankly, she deserves it.”

He hesitated when he saw your lack of a response and he was about to apologize when you cut him off.

“Yeah alright! Sounds like a plan, a great one if I am being honest. And I know just what to get you. Come with me.” You walked to his side and went to one of the back corners of the shop, sliding one of the glass doors to walk inside and telling him it was okay for him to enter. You leaned down and pulled a few of the pink flowers beneath the roses.

“Here are some geraniums which showcase her stupidity for leaving you, and…” you kneeled down to grab another bucket that was slightly out of reach, “some foxglove for her extreme insincerity.” He took them from your hands and studied them before noticing you were already walking away. 

“Here is meadowsweet and yellow carnations so she knows how fucking useless she is and how incredibly disappointed you are or were in her actions.” He grabbed the beautiful flowers and sighed, knowing he would never buy these flowers again even though they were among the prettiest in the shop.

“And last but not least, some lovely orange lilies so she knows how much you hate her…and him.” Shutting the door behind the two of you, you walked behind the counter and grabbed some green leaves to fill the bouquet, taking your time rearranging the flowers so they balanced each other. 

“Would you like to write a card? It’s free.” You said to him as you tied the bow around the plastic, gently pulling up some flowers to bring out the colors of some of the others. 

“W-what do I even write?”

“I mean the flowers are passive and she’s probably too stupid to understand, no offense.” 

“Non taken.”

“But the card can be aggressive. Here let me write it in calligraphy.”

“Oh wow you don’t have to.” 

“Please, I don’t have ‘100% satisfaction’ written on the window for no reason. How about, ‘Go deep throat a cactus. Sincerely,” sorry I didn’t catch your name?” You laughed at the blush forming on his cheeks and he seemed to notice his surprised reaction when he heard you giggle.

“It’s James. James Barnes. But my friends call me Bucky.”

So not only was the man the definition of beauty but his name rolled off the tongue easily as well. Great.

“So would you like me to sign it as James Barnes or Bucky Barnes?” He was quiet for a moment before he looked up and nodded at you.

“Definitely James Barnes.” The two of you said in unison and something twisted in your stomach when you heard his sweet laughter ring in your ears. 

“Now just write me the address and the name of her boss and I will deliver them myself. When do you want her to see them?”

“Oh I don’t want to waste your time, I could just-”

“The great thing about owning a flower shop is that you can open and close it at any time.” You took the flowers from him and placed them in a vase already filled with water. 

“She works until six so anytime before that. Thank you so much. You didn’t have to go out of your way to do any of this.” He took out his wallet and decided to focus on the money and not the gorgeous smile staring right back at him.

“Please it’s nothing. Flowers make me happy, well, plants in general. And if the plants can help out with anything then I don’t mind at all.”

“So how much for the passive-aggressive bouquet?”

“It’s on the house.” You responded immediately, taking the small paper he wrote the address and the names on before placing it in your front pocket. 

“No no please I couldn’t.”

“Please, I insist.”

“Fine, but on one condition. Can I take you out for coffee sometime tomorrow? Just so you could tell me what her reaction was.” Bucky smiled at you, readjusting his glasses god knows what time that day and you couldn’t help but mirror the joy etched on his face as you nodded.

“I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Great, it’s a date!” He took out something else from his pocket and gave it to you as he picked up a business card from the counter. 

“See you tomorrow sweetheart,” your eyes widened at the pet name before waving to him.

“Bye Bucky.”

You watched him as he walked out of the shop, his steps picking up a bit as opposed to when he was lazily following you around not fifteen minutes ago. You couldn’t wait until you saw him tomorrow but you certainly couldn’t wait until you saw his ex-girlfriend’s expression when she saw the flowers and the note.

Yup, flowers were definitely problem solvers. And your wingmen apparently. 

[rbmit]

The Cool Kid Factor

I admire the underpinnings of Rogers' work on the Five Factors that lead to diffusion, along with the cohorts of adaptors in relation to popularity, however, I find myself asking the same questions: why do modern brands with no actual product innovation take off with rocketship velocity, and why do brands that seem to have incredible momentum lose traction so quickly? What was missing from the world when Rogers was considering influences and diffusion: the internet and unicorns.

Case in point - the advent of "digitally-native direct to consumer" brands, largely created by selling the same exact products enjoyed by prior generations, just wrapped in a better package with more thoughtful and intentional design and a better web experience. The first generation of these brands - Warby Parker, Everlane, Allbirds, Sweetgreen, Harry's, Glossier, Casper etc - all came onto the scene with a story to tell in a total experience that just felt like it spoke to its generation of consumers as though the target customer was proportionally representative of the management of the company. One can argue, much of this is culture. Rapid adoption of these brands didn't necessarily coincide with a traditional uniform bell curve of innovators and early adopters. This shift was the largest generational shift in consumer spending in history, and made many people a lot of money (at least on paper) and caused a lot of damage for legacy brands. The result was a $0 to $100 million revenue ride in half the time it took Lululemon, a quarter of the time it took Nike. With this level of initial success, company valuations ended up being 10 times that revenue.

So what's the issue?

These growth rates had never been seen before in consumer brands, and they were too appealing to investors - individuals as well as venture funds - who made a ton of money over the years in technology bets like Facebook, as well as consumer services like Airbnb, Uber, etc. So the agreement that consumer [goods] was a natural extension of that insight and instinct was sound in the eyes of the underlying investors, or limited partners, who are largely clueless. As these brands started gaining momentum, they traded growth and growth rates over profitability and over time it became harder and harder to execute the same playbook and get the same rate of growth. On top of all this, unlike Roger's #1 factor, Relative Advantage, a lot of these companies were not really doing anything innovative. Their business models were centered on this idea of taking out the retailer/middleman and passing some savings onto the consumer. As ad prices skyrocketed, not just from all these DTC brands moving quickly into digital, but the large global brands and their respective agencies catching up quickly, it became harder and harder to maintain momentum.

So what happened?

The match is still unfolding, but it seems as though business generally still believes that companies that don't [eventually] make money go broke, but we are likely still far off from this happening with all of these new brands we have come to love, however the psychology of founders and decision-makers comes into play when these opposing forces start to become meaningful. To fund the revenue growth, these brands needed to hire tons of people and carry sizable quantities of inventory. Because they were so new, they didn't necessarily have access to capital markets ie debt or credit-based financing, and were oftentimes first-time founders who turned to equity investors for all things to do with money. This was the beginning of the end for several of them, who were diluted down to minority positions of ownership, and sadly in some cases just 1-5% of a company they founded. With this absence of control and increase of pressure to grow, their brands shifted tremendously towards a price-first story, instead of a story-first story. While the drug may have been nice at first, this shift in value or discount-based messaging is something that discounts the beliefs and associations that innovators and other early adopters had with these brands and they fall off rapidly. With early adopter word of mouth falling off a cliff, perhaps there will be opportunities for the incumbents to acquire them (team, talent, tech, customer lists, reviews) for pennies on the dollar and find ways to speak to the next generation of cool kids, but perhaps only with the relative advantage of perception versus actual product advantage or differentiation. The result of this, ultimately strengthens the multi-brand holding company and perhaps a sea of companies who couldn't find ways to sell themselves to P&G.

The main takeaway is that brands, new or old, should be considering not only the relative advantage but the full extent of the five factors when innovating but how they play a role in the entire lifecycle of communicating with potential customers through their entire relationship with the brand.

[psychcomposer]

Alright, I have too many feelings about a video game that’s going to come out in a month that I really just need to get out. It’s been over a decade and one of my favorite games, The World Ends With You, is finally getting a sequel. I’ve been brooding on the trailers for months, and I just finished the demo, so it is time to put down my capital T Thoughts on Neo: The World Ends With You.

As a warning, this will be entirely too long. But I’m not about to keep this bound up any longer.

TWEWY is my favorite title for the Nintendo DS. It is a JRPG starring Neku Sakuraba, an aggressively antisocial teen living in the Tokyo district of Shibuya. He is suddenly pulled into a test of survival called The Reaper’s Game, where he is forced to join forces with a partner in order to survive a week of lethal objectives in a sub-planar version of Shibuya. I love the story, its such an honest and interesting take on learning to get outside of your comfort zone. But more than that, it is a game that does so much to put a modern twist on every piece of your typical JRPG. You control two characters at once, Neku with the touch screen and his partner with the control pad, forcing you to split your attention and giving mechanic weight to the idea that Neku can’t survive alone. Armor and weapons are replaced with clothes and outfits, with a character’s ability to wear them restricted not by class but by a character’s bravery. The music list is filled with punk, alt-rock and hip-hop that are a stark contrast to the symphonic tracks of other titles. Battles aren’t random impediments, but fun diversions that sport a robust reward system that encourages players to push their limits.

But even more than that, the most modern thing I appreciate about TWEWY has to be the characters. Neku, Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme all feel like believable teens that grew up in the 2000′s. They bicker, clash, and banter like teens struggling to survive and make sense of their situation. One of my favorite little gimicks of the story is just how many nicknames there are for every character. Almost everyone has earned a few nicknames. One of my favorite examples is Sho Minamimoto. He’s a reaper with an obsession with math, often infusing his speech with mathematical jargon or expressions, and seems to enjoy erecting “art installations”, which most people can only decipher as towers of trash. Over the course of the story, he gets called Pi-face, the Grim Heaper, and another nickname I can’t even mention because of spoilers. It’s just... such a nice little human touch, these kids throwing crafted insults at a human enforcer of their doom that could almost certainly tear them apart.

I’m getting into this to try to give a sense of why I enjoy TWEWY so much, why it has such a unique place in my heart. Its a game I’ve 100% completed several times over, a task that’s no easy feat with the sheer amount of collectibles and post-game objectives. Unfortunately, for the last year or two, I’ve been kind of dreading this sequel.

Neo:TWEWY has been... a long time coming. Way back in 2007 they had a whole website counting down to some sort of announcement, with the music slowly building in intensity. I remember following it with bated breath, until it finally hit zero! And we got... An ios port of the game. Talk about a let-down. To be fair, apparently it is a solid port, even managing to re-work the old battle system, one that required a second screen to work properly, into one that only needed one. But what that really offered to someone like me was the hint of a sequel, a single image of a new character being shown. They kept flirting with the idea of bringing the series back. The main cast even featured in a Kingdom Hearts game, of all things, even if they didn’t really do a whole lot. But these acknowledgments grew sparser and sparser.

A few years ago, they released a switch port of the game. Not only that, it included an epilogue! They were finally getting a sequel rolling! Of course I bought that game, beat it yet again, and fought my way to the new content and the hint of the new story ahead.

It was... Well. I found it disappointing.

The gameplay was competent, even if it was clear that the epilogue itself really hadn’t had too much put into it. One new character,  new enemies just being reskins of old ones. It wasn’t meant to be dlc itself or anything, it was just there to herald a return to the series. That wasn’t what bugged me. What bugged me was the writing. It was heart-wrenching. It just didn’t feel right. It just felt flat compared to the story I’d enjoyed so many times. But what really killed my excitement was the new character, Coco.

Now, odd personality quirks are not too unusual among the ensemble of TWEWY. Pi-face is just one of the characters that is so infused with a particular theme that it shows in how they express themselves. It’s part of the charm of them, discovering the personalities that live in this dark underworld of Shibuya. But Coco... she talks like the most stereotypical young teenager possible. unironic lols, totez (yes, spelt exactly like that, in a speech format), OMG’s, and just, like, likes everywhere! It felt like someone who knew they needed to make a quirky character but had no idea how to write one well, and just made the most stereotypical caricature possible. I hated seeing that. It embodied every fear I had about the sequel being just a cynical project, pushed forward after so many years  by people who just didn’t understand what made the original great. That mild dread was so persistent that even the release of the first few trailers couldn’t really get me excited for the game. Neo:TWEWY was shifting into 3d from the original 2.5d, with all the problems that could cause. What I could see of the story felt so much more like a generic fantasy tale with some modern buildings than the story I had grown through my teenage years with. And, well... Just look the original Neku and the new one they showed off.

Look at this. Look at one of the most vibrant, eye-catching character designs on the market for any JRPG in history, one that manages to mix purple and orange with striking lights and darks. And then look at the teenager edgelord bullshit they did with him. It’s atrocious. I hate it. He’s just another guy in a black outfit and just too much fucking cool guy protagonist power to not have the story be about him at this point. And look, I know that there’s Story LoreTM, I know that there could be some twist that explains this, I know that him being such a denial of his old self could be the entire fucking point. But let me tell you, when I saw this, I felt years of shifting, misplaced unease coalesce into a hard lump of dread.

And... Even... So... I did the stupidest thing I could have possibly done and preordered the game anyway. Don’t look at me like that, nostalgia is a hell of a drug.

But you know what? The damnedest thing happened. They released a demo for the new game a month before its release. And I played it, and... I enjoyed it.

Did you see that coming? I certainly didn’t. Welcome to the roller coaster.

Right off the bat, the writing soothed a lot of the fears I had. It felt right at home, like being plopped between to teens exchanging banter. One of the first exchanges is Rindo and Fret, his best friend, trying to meet up. Fret wants Rindo to meet him at  someplace called Wunafo, an area Rindo is clueless about. After some annoyed texting, it turns out Fret is actually referring to 104, a local landmark of a building. Fret insists that its a stylish improvement on the name. Rindo only gives him some grief about it..

I’m not doing the scene justice, or I could just be really desperate for half-decent writing, but I can’t deny that it quickly put a smile on my face. I am almost sure I’ve had this conversation before in years past myself. And beyond that, this game boasts voice acting that brings out a ton of personality in the large cast they are introducing (besides Rindo, which is a shame because he’s the protagonist... hopefully he gets over his apathetic teenager shtick eventually). Not everything is voiced, but it conveys so much appeal and personality, and even when the character’s aren’t voiced there is a conversation screen that occasionally breaks out some stylish layouts to convey mood and temperment and clearly draw from the style that made the original game pop so much.

The battles, of course, have been completely revamped. TWEWY had you control two characters, one of which you could customize by equipping up to 6 different pins that all used different motions and unleashed different attacks. Now you control up to four characters, but each one can only use one pin. But even so, it feels very genuine to its roots. An effective build in TWEWY was usually one that let you stagger an opponent so you can unload a bunch of attacks on them, and in Neo:TWEWY the game actively pushes you to folllow up attacks with characters in succession. It would be easy for this to devolve into a mash-fest, but even with the little time I had with the game it introduced a wrinkle in that- an attack that unleashed a single powerful blow, but couldn’t just be unleashed at the end of the previous combo. It needed to be charged for a while, long enough for the combo timer to deplete. So now an effective combo requires thinking ahead, and even after that you’re paying attention to enemies to dodge out of the way when they strike back. It’s entirely possible this system will flop in the late game, but so far it is robust enough for me to think that it will be one that could make me look forward to battles.

The music hasn’t impressed me so far, besides the tracks that have made the transition from the original. But I remember those strange tracks needing some time before I appreciated them too.

Finally, the story has hooked me. I don’t think that needs much more explanation. I want to see more of these characters and see the changes that have been made to the world in what I assume is years after Neku’s game. And to address the elephant in the room, Neku has not made his appearance in what is available in the demo. Odds are I will probably hate whatever they do with him. But there is enough happening in the space around it that I’m interested in exploring, and a bruised apple can still taste sweet.

Almost all of this, of course, is mostly just saying that Neo:TWEWY is not doomed to fail. There is still plenty of room for things to go wrong later on. There are entire systems I haven’t really seen in game, like shops, pin evolution, clothing and food (Though it looks like they have changed the food system significantly, which I approve of). The things that unnerved me so much in the trickle of information after this game’s announcement could still be enough to turn this sour. But I’m smiling as I’m strapping myself in for this ride now, one I’ve waited quite a long time for. Whatever’s coming, I’m excited.

[staticscreenwriting]

The vision of your happiness - Billy Hargrove

This is my entry for @lets-hargroove​‘s Valentine’s Day writing challenge. I chose “Are you wearing that for me” as my prompt. This is pure fluff. I hope you guys enjoy & happy belated V-day.

A crisp layer of frost lays upon the grounds, covers the hills and the valleys and wraps the entirety of Hawkins in a sparkling blanket of ice.

It’s february and it’s freezing and (Y/N) wishes herself back to warmer days. To skin glistening in the sun. To the scent of heat and sunscreen. To hanging out by the pool. Watching him. Waiting. Counting down the minutes until it was time for him to clock out.

To fucking in the showers, trying not to get caught. To summer and pleasure and excitement.

It all seemed to exhilarating then. The keeping things hush hush. The sneaking around. It was their secret then and keeping it was an adventure. It was bold and daring and fun. 

But summer soon gave way for the fall and then the cold winds of winter. And with the snow and the cold, came the realisation that whatever it is they have — is an eternal “almost”.

With the pool being closed until may, the two of them had eventually been forced to relocate their tête-à-tête to another place. Gone are the days of spending what felt like an eternity underneath the warm spray of the shower. Nowadays he picks her up somewhere, they drive out to lovers lake. They park somewhere a bit off the path — to make sure their secret stays their secret. They kiss. They make out. They fuck. And once the fogged up windows clear up again, they get out. They share a cigarette. Sometimes they talk.

And then they let the realistation settle deep inside them. They let it consume them. From their hearts outwards. To their brains. Their lungs. Their bones. The realisation that this is just a temporary fix. That what they have is everything and nothing all at once. It’s halfway something. Halfway in love. Halfway happy. 

She thinks that’s what hurts the most. The knowledge that there is something there, it’s just not enough for him. If this was just sex, if it was nothing more, it would be so easy. But there’s a palpable tension between them. A certain kind of connection. A tingling in the air. 

Yet there’s a big cloud that seems to follow them around constantly, hanging above their heads heavy with rain about to pour down on them. She knows what the cloud is made of. Billy knows it too. It’s the knowledge that he hates it here, that he 100% wants to go back to California. It’s made of fears and doubts and the absolute horror that comes with thinking about the future. 

And the biggest part of it all, is the fact that Billy Hargrove doesn’t do relationships. 

So they stay there, on that line of being halfway something. 

Billy is leaning against the Camaro, cigarette dangling from his lips making him look so effortlessly cool it’s almost unfair. His hair sticks to his skin from their earlier workout, she thinks it makes him look like James Dean. That thought scares her. Billy, and this has to be blatantly obvious to him too, is a vision of all things gorgeous in this world. He’s soft golden curls and sharp jawline. He’s wicked grin and sparkling blue eyes. 

He’s an amalgamation of all things beautiful in the world. And (Y/N) is — well, she’s (Y/N). She knows she should be happy about things being the way they are. If sex, and friendship, is all she’s gonna get from him — she should be thankful about that. To even have that is more than she ever deemed possible.

But it doesn’t make her happy. Not all the way. Only ever halfway.

“ You going to the Valentine’s dance thing on friday ? “ Billy murmures around his cigarette.

“ Nope. “ 

“ Why not ? You got something better to do ? A hot date ? “ 

If only, she thinks, if only there was someone else. Maybe things would be easier than. Maybe it would be easier to let go of Billy. Alas there is no one else. Just him. 

“ No. No one’s asked me and I think it would be kinda shit to go by myself. I mean, it’s a Valentine’s Day dance so showing up alone is social suicide. “ 

For a moment, a spark of hope flickers inside of her. Like maybe this is the moment he’s gonna take the next step with her. Pull them out of the shadows, out of the deserted dressing rooms and fogged up cars and into the light. So that anyone can see. And she’s not asking for a love confession or anything. It’s just that dancing along the line of being something and being nothing is awfully exhausting and absolutely confusing.

“ Well, Valentine’s is dumb anyway.” 

Just like that, the flicker is gone. The hope is gone. All that is left is painful emptiness.

It’s not exactly the truth, per say. Someone has asked her but that person is Michael O’Hara and though he’s a nice enough guy, he’s not Billy. In fact, Billy detests him. He’s fairly well off, his dad owns a construction company, his mom does charity work. They have a nice house and a big garden and a golden retriever. They are everything personified that Billy resents. She didn’t tell him no. She didn’t tell him yes either. 

How was she expected to give Michael a proper answer if her heart was all over the place ?

“ Well you sound like a romantic. “

“ It’s all bullshit. “ 

“ You telling me you don’t believe in love ? “

Billy takes another drag from his cigarette, the muscles in his jaw straining as he inhales. If god ever came close to creating perfection, Billy was it, (Y/N) thought.

“ You telling me you do ? Tell me one couple that makes you believe in it ? My parents hate each other. Your parents hardly acknowledge each other. Outlook’s not so good if you ask me. “

He has a point, (Y/N) has to give him that. None of the adult relationships in their lives seem to work out too well. If love had ever been there in the first place, it is gone by now. And yet, to give up on it entirely seems foolish. If you can’t believe in love what else is there to believe in ? 

And what if the one person you love most, thinks it’s but a stupid fantasy.

“ So you don’t ever wanna like — fall in love ? Get married ? “ 

Billy regards her for a moment, barely letting his eyes travel towards her but she can see him glance through the corner of his eyes. “ Waste of time. “

It’s like a dagger straight to her heart. Waste of time. Waste of time. It repeats like a mantra in her mind. Over and over again.

“ That’s good to know. “ 

“ Mmh “.

A silence settles upon them and even though they often find themselves in a situation much like this one, it feel different now. As if the world has somehow shifted, lost the gravity that previously held it all together. Now they’re floating in a limbo. Drifting further and further away. And for the first time in a while (Y/N) doesn’t know how much longer she can hold onto him.

“ What are you doing tomorrow night ? “ Billy asks, dropping his cigarette bud on the ground before facing her properly for the first time since they’ve gotten out of the car. His eyes are intense and sometimes she thinks she can see something in them. Something more. Something that’s certain. Something that’s a definitely, not an almost.

But as soon as it flashed up, its gone again, making her wonder if it’s just a case of wishful thinking.

“ Work. You know the diner goes all out for Valentine’s week. “ 

Billy knows this. In fact it was Valentine’s week last year that the two of them properly met for the first time. 

Billy was bitter, about his move to Hawkins, about the situation with his dad, about life in general. 

And to top it all off, Hawkins Indiana seemed to have been captured by 

the greeting card industry. There were dances and parties themed after Valentine’s and paper hearts in every shop window. It felt like the world was mocking him.

The boy was hasn’t even been loved surrounded by an abundance of superficial displays of affection.

So he ended up at the diner, hoping for some peace and quiet — and some chili cheese fries.

What he go instead, was a diner looking as if Cupid himself had thrown up in there, a jukebox playing 1950s love songs and her. 

Her smiling. Her laughing. Her looking at him, eyes full of wonder and excitement and joy. Her.

Her dressed as a — heart ? 

“ Hi, welcome to Stella’s and happy Valentine’s week. My name is (Y/N), I am your waitress today. Can I start you off with some drinks ? “ 

There was something about her then. About the bliss in her voice. The smile on her face. about how she looked absolutely ridiculous in the foam heart costume that gave her very little room to move her arms. Ridiculous. But also fucking adorable.

“ Are you wearing that for me ? “ 

He expected her to react like all the other Hawkins girls did whenever he paid them even the smallest amount of attention. Blush and get flustered and wrap herself around his finger.

She didn’t though. She smirked and said “ I might be” and winked and then asked for his order of drink again. 

And for the first time in his life he thought that Valentine’s maybe wasn’t all that bad.

“ Hmm… I might pop round then. Get some chili fries. Grace you with my company. “ 

She hates that this makes her heart flutter. It shouldn’t but it does. It also comes with a bitter aftertaste though. Because this affection is only reserved for when they are alone or in the company of people they don’t know all too well. She knows that as soon as one of their classmates shows up, he’s gonna recoil. Pretend like she’s just another girl. Someone he almost knows, but doesn’t.

It hurts. God does it hurt.

And yet she smiles and nods and says “ sure “ and kisses him like she’s not desperately trying to hold together the pieces of her heart slowly crumbling. 

Earth Angel by the penguins is blasting from the jukebox and Billy enters the diner. The bell above the door chimes up and alarms (Y/N) of a new customer.

As soon as he catches sight of her, Billy thinks his heart might give out. She’s not a heart this time. She’s an angel. Maybe a cupid. He’s not sure. She’s in a red tulle skirt, a white shirt with a red heart on it. Red angel wings are strapped to her back and she’s glued little red sequin hearts to her cheeks, just below her eyes.

But her lips. God, her lips are what really make him feel some kind of way. Red and glossy and like they might taste of cherries or strawberries or candy apples. 

“ Hi “ she chirps as she approaches him, a bounce in her step “ Happy Valentine’s week. My name is (Y/N) and I am your waitress today. Can I start you off with some drinks ? “

He smiles back, a smile that he actually means, one he feels in his heart. Which is fucking terrifying honestly. 

“ Are you wearing that for me ? “ he asks, slightly tugging at a feather of her wings.

And just like the first time, she smirks, directs him to a table, winks and says “ I might be. “ 

And just like the first time, his heart starts beating just a little faster.

Things seem to go so well, until they don’t. 

For almost two hours, Billy sits in his booth, eating chili cheese fries, watching (Y/N) move around the diner. Every once in a while she comes over, steals a fry, leaves a kiss on his lips. It all feels so so gentle, so sweet. So right.

And then — reality settled back in.

(Y/N)’s heart drops as soon as she bell chimes up and she catches sight of who it is that has just entered. 

Tommy and Carol are loud. They are obnoxious. They are exhausting. But that’s not the reason why she’s dreading their company. It’s the influence they have on Billy.

All the softness and the affection vanished in the matter of a heartbeat. He’s back to being bitter and stoic and cold. And it hurts.

There’s no smiles from him as she approaches his table, the one they have just invited themselves to. 

“ Hi, happy Valentine’s week. My name is (Y/N) and I am your waitress can I get you something to drink ? “ 

Carol only musters her with a mix of amusement and ridicule. Tommy though, loudmouth he is, laughs at her. Not a funny, radiant, charming laugh. A mean one.

“ Look at you ! I hope they pay you a bunch for putting you into that stupid get-up. “ 

It doesn’t hurt. In fact, she doesn’t give a single fuck about what Tommy thinks.

What hurts, is Billy. Billy laughing along. Not a charming laugh either. Not the laugh she loves. A mean one. A ridiculing one.

What hurts is the way he looks at her then, as if she’s a stranger. As if he hasn’t been inside of her just last night. As if he hadn’t been placing soft kisses along her neck, whispering sweet nothings against her skin.

What hurts is when he scoffs and says “ She’s a waitress, Tommy. How much are they possibly paying her ? Not enough to wear that ridiculous shit. “ 

That’s what hurts. So damn much.

(Y/N) hopes he can see it in her eyes when they lock with his. That it breaks her. That it hurts her so much. She hopes he can see it, she hopes that he knows. She hopes that a little part of him, even if it’s teeny tiny, she hopes that part hurts too. 

“ They pay alright actually. “ she responds, wiping the table clean once again and pulling out her notepad.

“ Are you coming to the dance, (Y/N) ? “ Carol chimes up before ordering a diet coke.

“ Actually, I am “ 

It’s then, that Billy’s eyes snap up. They hold something else now, something she’s not familiar with. If she didn’t know better she’d say it’s jealousy. She does know better though. Billy isn’t jealous. You have to care to be jealous. And Billy obviously doesn’t care. At least not about her.

“ Really ? Who are you going with ? “ Carol inquires. 

“ Michael O’Hara “ 

She tries to see something in Billy’s reaction though he stays still. As if the frost from outside has suddenly taken over his body as well, freezing him in place. 

“ Oh, “ Carol says “ he’s a sweet guy. Good for you. “ 

It’s strange but she sounds almost sincere. As sincere as Carol can sound. And that, is maybe a tiny flicker or joy in this god awful situation. 

“ Yeah, he really is a sweet guy. There’s very few of them.” (Y/N) replies before walking towards the counter to get their drinks, not granting Billy as much as another glance.

It’s a while later, Carol and Tommy long gone, that Billy walks up to the register. There’s the usual suaveness about him. He looks so effortlessly cool. But where he usually seems unbothered, something doesn’t seem right in that moment.

“ You just gonna ignore me for the rest of the night ? “ 

“ Oh I’m sorry, I’m busy trying to make a living on my silly little waitress job. “ 

Billy scoffs and it makes her angry. He’s so smug, so complacent. “ God, you can’t seriously be pissed because of that comment. It was a dumb joke, (Y/N). “ 

“ Jokes are meant to be funny. “ 

“ And it was. “ 

“ Not to me, it wasn’t. “ 

He shakes his head in a dismissive motion. As if she has no right to be offended. No right to feel hurt.

“ You said you didn’t have a date for the dance, now suddenly you’re going with Michael O’Hara. Pretty boy Mike ? He’s not even your type. “ 

“ How the fuck would you know that ? “ 

“ I know you. “ 

“ You don’t know shit, Billy. “ 

“ I know what you like and it’s not guys like him. “ 

“ Oh really ? Do you ? If you knew me that well you’d know that the way you’re treating me when your friends are around, that hurts Billy. If you don’t want them to know that we’re fucking, that’s fine with me. I just don’t understand why you have to be such an asshole when they are around. Why can’t they know that we’re friends at least ? Am I really that embarrassing ? Are you really that ashamed of me ? “ 

Billy combs his fingers through his curls in the same way he always does when he’s aggravated, when he’s annoyed, when he’s frustrated. She hates that she can tell 

his moves and gestures so clearly. Hates that she knows him so well when he seems to know absolutely nothing about her. If only she didn’t love him so much, life could be so easy. So simple.

So painless.

“ It’s not like that “ he tries to explain.

“ Then what is it like ? Explain it to me, Billy. Because quite frankly I don’t understand it. “ 

Time seems to slow down as she’s waiting for him to reply. To give her an explanation, and apology, anything. 

What she gets, is silence. Thick with words unspoken. Thick with tension. With pain. With heartbreak.

“ Yeah that’s what I thought. Go fuck yourself, Billy. “ 

She disappears through the swinging doors and enters the break room, just about holding it together. That’s until she hears the bell above the door chime up once again, then the door slam, then the unmistakable sound of the camaro starting.

Then, and only then, does she allow herself to fall apart. Slide down the wall, sit on the floor. And cry. And feel. And cry some more.

Until eventually she’s all out of tears and all that’s left is a feeling of overwhelming emptiness.

Michael is a nice guy. He’s attentive and sweet and a real gentleman. He’s picked her up at 6 sharp, he’s been extremely charming when meeting her parents, he’s wearing a gorgeous suede suit. Everything about him should make her swoon. He’s the guy her heart should be longing for.

Only love doesn’t know no rules nor guidelines. It doesn’t operate on rational thoughts. 

The heart wants what it wants and, no matter how much she tries to fool herself into believing there’s anything she can do about it if only she tries hard enough, (Y/N) heart doesn’t want Michael.

She has to admit that simple fact to herself as she’s clutching a cup of spiked punch in her hand as Michael sits next to her rambling about some topic or another. He’s such a nice dude and deserves better. Better than a girl who’s heart is somewhere completely else.

The gym suddenly feels stuffy, like the walls are closing in and the room is getting smaller and smaller. There’s too many people here, too much noise. She needs a breather. A second to catch herself. To soften the inevitable fall.

“ Hey, Mike. I’ll go catch some air real quick, “ she announces, softly squeezing his arm in a friendly way. He’s so nice. He’s too nice.

“ Oh sure, d’you want me to come ? “ 

“ No. No you enjoy yourself. I uh — I’ll be fine. “ 

And he doesn’t complain or object and, when their eyes meet, she can see it all as clear as day. The defeat. The disappointment. The sadness. The gratefulness that it’s ending before it’s properly begun, before too many feelings got involved.

He knows, as well as she does, that this ain’t working. This isn’t even an almost and though the outcome isn’t what either of them had desired for it to be, a definite nothing is quite a lot better than an uncertain almost.

“ Alright. Let me know if you need me. “ 

She nods, then pushes through the crowd of dancing teenagers, sweaty, sticky, unruly. The cold february air hits her skin as she steps outside, goosebumps are rising all over. Her fingers are itching for a cigarette but she’s shared the last cigarette from her package with Billy the other day and hasn’t gotten around to buy a new one.

So she rests her back against the cold concrete wall of the school building and looks up into the sky. The stars twinkle back at her like tiny rhinestones on a veil of dark blue fabric. It all seems so vast right then, like she’s but a tiny speck of dust on the grand scheme of things. It’s both, scary and insanely exciting. 

“ You got a smoke ? “ 

His voice sends involuntary chills down her spine. It’s like golden honey melting in a cup of warm milk. Thick and rich and warm and homey. 

His voice sounds like home, when it definitely shouldn’t. It does anyway.

“ What are you doing out here, Michael not bring it ? “ 

“ Look if you’re here to make fun o — oh wow. “ 

He’s in a suit. Not a uber fancy one that one would wear to a wedding, but a suit nonetheless. There’s no bow, no tie, no cummerbund. His shirt is halfway unbuttoned. He’s still wearing his biker boots and the silver earring is dangling from his earlobe. 

If there was ever a person who looked out of place, it’s Billy in this moment. 

“ I’m not here to make fun of you. “ 

The sincerity in his voice is overwhelming. Like nothing she’s ever heard before. Especially not from him. “ I’m sorry. “ 

It’s two word. Two simple fucking words. And yet they hold the meaning of a lifetime. It seems that once he’s spoken them, her world gains back a bit of gravity. That with accepting his own faults he is pushing her world back into the right position. Slowly. Carefully. But he’s doing it nonetheless.

“ You’re wearing a suit. “ 

“ It’s a dance, it’s mandatory. “ 

“ Why are you at the dance ? Thought you didn’t believe in love. “ 

“ It’s not that I don’t believe in love, “ Billy confesses “ It’s just that I was never shown how it’s supposed to feel or work. I wasn’t loved in a long time so the way we feel about each other is making me freak the fuck out. Because I’ve not felt like this in a long time, if ever. I don’t know how to deal with it so I sabotage myself. You are not embarrassing though and neither is your job. You are far from it. You are way too good for my dumb ass. “ 

“ What are you saying, Billy ? “ 

“ I’m falling in love with you and it terrifies me. I’m so scared of fucking it up that I ruin things before it can get that far. But then I — I realised that I could lose you. And the Michael O-fucking-Hara of all people. And that thought is honestly way worse. Because when I’m with you I have good moments, and I don’t have a lot of those in my everyday life but with you — with you there are so many. So I realised I have to stop being such a pussy and actually get off my ass and tell you how I feel even if it’s scary. You’re allowed to stop me any second by the way, talking about my feeling makes me feel icky but I’ll do it anyway if it means you’ll forgive me. “ 

“ Billy. “ 

“ Because I am falling in love with you and I don’t care who knows or doesn’t know. I just need you to know. That’s all that matters. “ 

If there was ever a moment to be soft, to be kind, to be forgiving — it is tonight. Underneath a thousand sparkling stars, as a lovesong plays from the inside of the gym. As he looks at her with eyes filled with adoration and passion and — .

She takes his face in between hers and for a second, all she does is look into his eyes. Maybe she’ll regret this one day. Failure is always a possibility. But so is success. So is the prospect of a loving relationship. A romance that will defy the odds. That will be so different to the examples their parents have set. 

Her lips meet his in a soft kiss, so gentle it’s hardly there at all. And yet he feels it all over. In his head, his heart. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

“ Sometimes good things are scary, Billy. Like Rollercoasters or Horror Movies, or love. “ 

He kisses her again, takes her breath away. But she thinks if this is how it goes, she’ll gladly do without oxygen.

“ Hey Billy, I got a question. “ 

“ What’s that ? “ 

She looks him up and down, then smiles. A smile so radiant it can rival the stars.

“ Are you wearing that for me ? “ she asks and tugs on the bottom of his suit jacket.

And Billy ? He kisses her again, then smiles and replies. “ I might be. “ 

[ladyinfierno]

That last one was delightful thank you I 100% would've sent one sooner if I could make up my mind on what to send in, but yay here I am! However..I don't know what ship to pair with this so good luck: 4[/ 5] and 94 (bonus points for lesbians)

Ahhh thank you! ;w; Don't worry, I'm a bit slow filling these prompts anyway :) Also I'm assuming this is for Hetalia, by the timing of the ask

Coffee shop/Bar/Restaurant AU + Hair brushing/Braiding - SpAus

I've been slowly falling in love with this pairing and they came to mind instantly.

Note 1: I know the fandom has Isabel as Spain's name but I'll call her Antonia too because I want people to call her Toña affectionately, there's no other reason behind this decision, please and thank you. María Isabel Antonia Fernández Carriedo, ajúa :v

Note 2: I know Austria has names from Anneliesse to Lieselotte, I'll call her Ro because I'm not well versed in Austrian names and don't want to spend two hours in baby name pages trying to decide.

- First of all: I always imagine Spain making killer desserts in whatever universe there is, so of course we'll start with Antonia being the proud owner of Malagueña, a small bakery/coffee shop that has the best hot chocolate and torrejas combo in the city. Probably the only one, but still.

- The place is small, with a couple tables outside and a lot of potted flowers. It opens early and the owner can be seen sweeping the front of the store still half asleep but dedicatedly. It's only a matter of time until a small line starts forming at the counter, from all those other working souls seeking caffeine to go through their days.

- There's three other people working there divided on morning and afternoon shifts, since the three of them are students and Antonia is flexible with schedules. A Belgian girl studying photography, a Belarusian maths student whose recipe for nalistniki landed her in cooking duty immediately and the high school punk girl with green eyes and big eyebrows that’s really good with beverages.

- Lunch is always the busiest hour of the day, since they're surrounded by small companies and some schools, so she takes cashier duty while helping make orders between customers.

- Then, like clockwork, through the door enters the most beautiful woman Antonia has ever seen. The dark suit is always a different shade between blue and purple, sometimes pants, sometimes pencil skirt and black thighs, and the click-clack of her modest high heels make the Spanish woman's heart speed up.

- Ro, the music teacher at one of the schools surrounding the café, always with that "better than you" kind of attitude that in reality is just a lot of well ingrained manners and etiquette. Her long hair is always braided in some way, small braids at the top, a big one in a bun, one way or another, her hair is always adorned by them.

- By the time she reaches the counter Antonia is already picking out the pastry of the day and the freshly made vanilla coffee she will order, no doubt. Because the best way to get to someone's heart is through their stomachs, right?

- Ro always smiles gently at her and takes her sweet lunch to a corner table by the window. Cue Antonia smiling stupidly at everyone and everything for the next thirty minutes, and sighing longingly after that when Ro leaves, always thanking and smiling at her before returning to school.

- Everyone knows. Everyone and their mother know how head over heels Antonia is, not only her employees or the regular clients, whoever steps in the café and sees that look of absolute adoration in her face can't really deny it.

- But they have to wonder if the other woman feels the same.

- Hint: in this house we don't do unilateral pining.

- Antonia has a brother, who at some point visits her from Portugal and ends up meeting this beautiful Austrian woman who always comes in at the same time, is very polite to his sister and smiles fondly at her from her corner table, her gaze softening... He just has to smack her little sister in the head for not only being obvious, but oblivious.

- Then one day, as every other day, Julchen is there, eating a hot cuernito and leaving crumbs everywhere while waiting for her girlfriend's shift to end. Alice meanwhile is complaining about the blatant stage of denial her boss is in. (If you thought I couldn't slip pruk in this you're wrong.)

- "Just the other day, she came in, took her lunch, and before going back to her table she asked Tonia if she wanted to go to a music concert, something or another about her school's orchestra, and you know what the boss did? She went all 'Ohh, that sounds nice! I'll make sure to spread the word!' Agh! She even asked the lady if she had pamphlets!"

- And in the middle of her laughing (and making an even bigger mess with her food) Julchen stops and asks: "Wait, like the concert my school's orchestra is doing next week?"

- OF COURSE, Julchen who is also a high school student and plays the flute has Ro as her teacher so YES Austria is teaching Prussia how to play and they still bicker like old ladies but one is 17 and the other is 29, please let me have this.

- So she spends the next twenty minutes talking about her very much lovestruck music teacher, who always seemed to be in a better mood after lunch and how she always attributed that to eating pastries (which is not entirely wrong btw) but now she knows is because of Antonia.

- "Look, I'm not even exaggerating. Once I failed every note of a piece on purpose, so I'm waiting there for rage and thunder, and instead she sighs and tells me to take a break, 'go eat something sweet', and dismisses me from practice for ten minutes. She was smiling, everyone was terrified."

- And... they don't know what to do with this new information. Like, should they help two almost-thirty-year-old women get together? The answer is, most likely, yes. But I don't really see them needing a complicated plan, just casual comments like "Oh, Miss Edelstein? Yeah, she's Jules' music teacher, she told me she loves Edelweiss flowers" or "Yeah, my girlfriend works at that lovely coffee shop down the street, I think the owner loves turtle themed things?" Like... not really subtle but they help.

- The day they finally go on a date everyone cries a bit inside of happiness.

- Everything stays almost the same, with the teacher still coming in for lunch and leaving with a soft smile, the busy boss waving animatedly from her place behind the counter, but now, at the end of the shift, there the teacher is again, waiting to "be escorted to her house", as it was previously agreed, apparently. Natalya is the one recounting this the next day to her fellow baristas.

- Final scene: Warm light comes through half opened curtains, the day begins as any other, and the only sound is the content humming of Antonia while her fingers card through thin dark hair, being careful not to tug too hard while keeping the braid in place; today is a neat, thin one in the middle of a half ponytail. She kisses it once it's finished, to make sure it's made with love, and Ro just rolls her eyes and pulls her down for a proper kiss.

On a final note, I made myself hungry while writing this and can't go buy any of the pastries here, hope it goes better for you :'v

Also wanted to put Francis in here but I kept getting war flashbacks from this trio relationship so, maybe he’s the best friend who offers advice or something.

[firelordappa]

The Secret Society [M] - Chapter One

Pairing: Sokka x OC

Word Count: 2813

Genre: Romance, baby. Fluff AND smut

Hello, everyone! I hope you give this story a read, I have lots of good things planned for it. I actually posted another version of the first chapter for this story but I decided to rewrite it and I like this version a lot better lmao.

In this story, Sokka is 22 and our main female love interest is 20:) Just in case you’re too lazy to do the math, that means that Aang is 19, Toph is 19, Katara is 21, and Zuko is 23.

Like I said, I have so many things planned for this story! Me and 2 friends actually planned out the entire plot line one night sitting in my car and I knew I immediately had to start writing. Before we start, I’d like to give a shout out to @mystic-kitten-writer for inspiring me to write a story of my own! If you haven’t already, go check out her story “Limerence”. It’s a Zuko fic with lots of fantastic smut and honestly just one of the best fics I’ve ever read.

Let’s get started!

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          The sun felt nice on my skin. The warmth of the rays hit my cheeks and for a short period of time, it made me feel alive. My entire life has always felt like one huge identity crisis. I’ve never truly understood who I was or what my place was in the world. My family and I constantly live in a constant state of fear of people discovering who we really are. 

          It’s a secret that I have to bear with me for the rest of my life. 

          “Tenzin?” My mother’s soft voice spoke from behind me. I turned around and looked at her and it was in that moment that I realized how similar we look to each other. Her round, dark brown eyes that she passed down to me looked at me with concern as I sat here on the cliff side right behind our house. Her waist-length chocolate brown hair was pinned up neatly, showing off her angular cheekbones that even with age, have failed to lose their place on her face. My mother truly was beautiful. 

          “Yes, mother?” I stood up. I had a thin cotton dress on due to the heat that came with the summer time. But with the way she was looking at me, I knew it was time for me to go to work and that I would need to change. Just another day doing the exact same thing I’ve done for the past 10 years of my life. Life was monotonous for me and my family, and slowly but surely I’ve just come to accept it. 

          This is my life. There’s nothing I can do to change it. 

           I walked inside of our house and turned one corner to make it to my room. We lived in a pretty small house, but with just me and my mother that’s all we really needed. Both my mother and father both never really cared for luxurious things, but even if we did there was no way we could afford to live a lavish lifestyle. That’s why my father opened the ramen shop. So that our family could get by, even if it required us to scrape the bottom of the barrel sometimes. 

          But we were happy. That’s all we really needed.

          I rummaged around my room trying to find my apron before finally finding it hiding underneath some of my blankets that had fallen onto the floor. I tied it maybe a little too tightly around my waist and then walked over to the mirror to check my appearance before I had to head out for the day. I braided a few pieces of hair before pinning them back, trying to look a little more put together. I’ve never been confident about my body, or anything about myself really. I think of myself as devastatingly average. Just someone who could blend into the background and nobody ever thinks twice about. 

          My parents always raised me to believe that I shouldn’t obsess over my looks. Shallow and surface level desires like that were just things that we didn’t believe in. When I was younger this was easier to follow, but now that I’m way past the marrying age and I still have nobody interested in courting me, it makes a girl wonder. 

          “What’s wrong with me?”

          The shop was right next to our house. Very convenient, if you ask me. We typically didn’t get much business because just like us, everyone else in the village was also struggling financially. Most people found jobs within the city, but they’re restricted to working in the outer rings where money is still pretty short. Looks like we all have it out for us, huh?

          “This is just what I needed!” A voice called me to look up from my place at the counter. A group of people walked through the doors and I immediately got excited because these were our first customers in a few days. One of the men caught my eye. 

          Gods, he was exquisite. 

          He was tall and had beautifully tanned skin. He had his hair tied up in a short ponytail and he carried himself with so much confidence that anyone would immediately be drawn to him. He had a lean figure and his arms were toned and on full display in the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. I need to stop gawking, I shouldn’t be thinking about him this way. 

          “Hello, everyone. You all look tired! You must have been traveling. What can I get for you today?” I broke out of my trance and walked over to the group to greet them. The Avatar…?

          The beautiful man looked up at me with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. His face was even more handsome up close. His full lips turned up into a smirk and he looked at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

          I could feel how deeply I was blushing, but I hoped he didn’t notice. Is he flirting with me?

          “Yes, we’re just passing through the area and looking for something to eat. None of us are really picky.” One of the women smiled at me as she spoke. She was also jaw-droppingly beautiful, and the similarities between her and the man led me to believe that they were siblings. What’s in the water where these people are from?

          I laughed at her obvious attempt to try and divert her brother’s advances. “Alright, everyone. I’ll make sure to have it out for you as soon as possible.” I gave the group one last smile before turning on my heel and walking towards the back to my mother. I felt very flustered by that man’s...flirting? I’ve never had a guy show any interest in me at all. Is that what all of these feelings were in my chest? 

          It felt… good. Really good. 

          “Mother, we have customers!” I told her excitedly as I walked into the kitchen. She looked up and smiled warmly and I could tell that she was happy about finally having business. She immediately started fixing everyone’s food for them and while she did, I couldn’t help but daydream about the blue-eyed beauty sitting in our shop. My heart was fluttering just thinking about seeing him again in a few minutes. Would he try to flirt with me again? 

          Why were they traveling here in the first place?

          My mother eventually finished up everyone’s meals and I took them on a serving plate to bring them out to the group. As soon as I walked through the doors the man snapped his head in my direction. His eyes slowly scanned my body up and down, drinking me in. The butterflies in my stomach came back immediately and I could feel the blush burning on my cheeks. 

          “Here’s your food, everyone. I hope you enjoy everything! If you have problems with anything please let me know. My name is Tenzin.” I placed everyone’s bowl in front of them. They all seemed eager to finally have something to eat, but as soon as I mentioned my name, the young Avatar’s eyes met mine. The look that he gave me almost sent chills down my spine because he was narrowing his eyes at me so suspiciously. I need to tread lightly… 

          “Tenzin? You know, that’s a very beautiful name.” I placed the man’s food in front of him as he spoke. I couldn’t help but let a giggle leave my lips. So he is flirting with me, after all. 

          “Thank you. I hope that you all enjoy your meals.” I gave the group a smile before nervously walking off. I didn’t really know how to respond to his advances towards me because I’ve never been in this position before. My whole body felt hot because of my nerves, and I’d rather just remove myself from the situation instead of trying to embarrass myself. They’re travelers anyway, I shouldn’t be worrying about this guy.

          I’ll probably never see him again after today. 

          I stayed in the back with my mother until I felt like it had been long enough to check on the group again. Whenever I walked back into the main room, they were all gone except for one. The Avatar sat at the table with his eyes glued to the wall in front of him as if he were deep in thought. He quickly turned his head towards me once he had noticed that I had entered the room. Our eyes locked and I couldn’t really tell what was going on in his head, but clearly something was troubling him. I walked over to the table and sat across from him. We sat there in silence for a few minutes before he finally had the courage to speak. 

          “Who are you, Tenzin?” His stormy gray eyes bore into mine. I thought the Avatar was supposed to be an incredibly nice and kindhearted person, but this man was not the one that I had heard so many great things about. He seemed troubled - sad even. “I feel a very strong energy coming from you. The type of energy that I haven’t been around in over 100 years.”

          “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Avatar Aang.” I don’t know why in this moment I decided to act stupid. I knew exactly why he felt the shift in energy whenever he was around me. I just don’t think I’m ready to be able to join a side of the world that I was never truly accepted in. I knew what would become of me if I confessed my family’s one true secret. So in this moment, I continued to play dumb. 

          “You know exactly what I mean.” His voice rose slightly, the frustration in his voice clearly evident. “Please. Be honest with me.”

          “I’m sorry. I- uh, I can’t.” I stood up from the table as soon as I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I rushed out of the shop and ran to the cliffside behind my house. This was the only place I knew that could help me feel better or just help me think whenever I felt overwhelmed. In this moment, I was certainly overwhelmed. Deep down I knew that the Avatar was certainly someone I could trust with my family burden. And yet, there was still a part of me that wanted to keep my secret a secret. I knew that if I revealed the one part of myself that I was always forced to keep hidden from everyone to him that my life would never truly be the same after that. I would be throwing myself into the same situation that got my father killed. 

          But there was a nagging voice inside of me screaming at me to use this as an opportunity to live the life I’ve always truly wanted to live. I imagined how much more full my life would be. I wouldn’t be stuck in this poor, tiny village serving ramen to people with my mother until I died. I would maybe meet a man, get married, have a few kids who would possibly end up bearing the exact same weight as I for their entire lives. We would be happy, and then eventually I would die. My life would’ve served no real purpose. It would continue to be the same boring, monotonous life that I lived every single day. 

          So, what if I changed my fate? 

-----------

          It had been three days since Aang and his group had visited our shop. Everyone in the village knew their purpose for visiting now at this point. They were scouring the Earth Kingdom villages in search of benders so that they could help build up an army against rebels from the outer ring of Ba Sing Se. According to Aang, these rebels had poisoned the Earth King and murdered him in cold blood. He made sure to explain to everyone that this fight was meant to restore justice and peace within the city, but many people from the village were obviously not interested in fighting against the people that they worked with every single day. Some of us were the outer ring of Ba Sing Se. Regardless, they still managed to find a few benders from our village and convinced them to join their cause. 

          I knew that this was my chance to leave. They would probably be leaving soon, so I knew I would need to act fast. However, my nerves kept getting the best of me. What would happen to my mother? The shop? Was I really ready to drop everything and leave? I would be putting not only my own life in danger, but also my mother’s. My family’s. 

          It was that same afternoon that Avatar Aang walked back into our shop. I knew he was here to talk to me, but I still had reservations about the entire situation. I walked into the main room and he looked at me sternly. 

          “Follow me, please.”

           He walked with me out of the shop. We ended up walking into the trees that surrounded the outskirts of the village until we stopped at one of the many waterfalls that were sprinkled throughout the forest. He guided me to the edge of the water and sat down before motioning me to do the same. 

          “You know, for the longest time I’ve felt so alone. Whenever Katara and Sokka took me to the Southern Air Temple all those years ago and I realized that every single one of my people were gone, I didn’t really know what to do with myself.” He spoke softly as he watched the water rush down from the waterfall. The mist was spraying us gently and in a way, it was oddly calming. So his name is Sokka… 

          “Ever since then, I’ve been so desperate to fit in. To know that my entire culture has been wiped out terrifies me. I’ve never felt something more painful than the pain of knowing that nobody else is like me. Yeah, there are other benders. But nobody else truly understands me and my beliefs.” I turned my head from the water to look at him while he spoke. His hair was wavy and unkempt. The blue ink of his tattoos contrasted almost beautifully from the light tan of his skin. He turned his head and gazed at me in almost the exact same way I had been gazing at him. 

          “I know who you are, Tenzin.” He breathed and looked away from me again. “I know what you are. I felt it from the moment I stepped foot in this village. I guess I just wanted to hear you say it outloud so that I wouldn’t feel crazy.”

          “Aang…” I could feel myself choking up. I couldn’t even lie to myself anymore because I feel just like he does. The only person in my life that I ever felt truly connected to was my father because we were one in the same. Whenever he died, I lost that connection and since then I, too, have also felt like an outcast with no one else who would truly understand what I was going through and the weight of the burden that I had to carry. “I’m scared.”

          “I know. But with me, you don’t have to be alone anymore.” He turned his body so that he was facing me. He took both of my hands in his and looked at me with an agonizingly longful look in his eyes. “Please come with us. I promise that we will protect you and keep you safe from the people who are scared of us. I can’t lose this now that I’ve finally found a connection from my past.” 

           A tear rolled down my cheek. He lifted his hand to my face to wipe it away with his thumb and for a moment, I felt like I was where I needed to be. The connection between us was undeniable and for once in my life I finally met someone who was just like me. Aang shared the same burden as me. 

          The same gift.

          “I will come with you.” I whispered, my eyes dropping to our hands. He was squeezing mine so tightly that his knuckles were white, but as soon as the words left my lips it seemed as if all of the tension he had been feeling had been released. The storm that resided within his eyes seemed to finally be calm, and a soft smile formed on his lips. 

          I was choosing my own destiny. Finally, I could truly live as the most authentic version of myself. It was in this moment that I felt like I knew who I was truly meant to be. 

          I’m an Airbender. And I was ready for everyone to know.

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Alright, first off, if you’re confused about the Aang having hair thing, look up “aang with hair comics” and you’ll see what I mean, mama.

I hope you all enjoyed! The next chapter will probably be up soon depending on how often I feel like writing. I wrote this entire chapter today because I just felt really inspired. Anyway, I hope you all liked it enough to stay along for the ride :)

-Bekah

[brieflygorgeouss]

52, 82, and 100 please!

52. “I need help.” (82 and 100 are coming in a separate fic because i couldn’t help myself, hope you don’t mind!)

Lucas really likes his job at the coffee shop, you see, as out of character as it is for him. There are three reasons for that.

Reason number one: it pays his bills. He doesn’t earn particularly much, but it’s enough to cover his rent and basic living expenses, and if he tries really hard, he can even afford to go out every once in a while to keep the illusion of his social life in place.

Reason number two: he gets to work with some really cool people, which is unexpected but not unwelcomed. Manon is the one who got him this job, so he basically owes her his life, and she bakes the best fucking muffins Lucas has tried in his entire existence. Yann is like his long-lost brother at this point, and Lucas feels as if they’ve known each other for years instead of four months since he stared there. Imane can be harsh sometimes, or stubborn, but Lucas appreciates that, actually, how she doesn’t let others fuck with her. He also appreciates how, when Lucas’s ex-boyfriend kept pestering him, she was ready to break the dude’s arms if Lucas only said a word. That was nice.

Reason number three: Beautiful Boy.

See, Lucas doesn’t know much about Beautiful Boy. He knows his name is Eliott, and guesses he is an art student because he sometimes comes into the coffee shop with art supplies peeking out of his bag or with his fingertips stained with ink. He wears weird patterned shirts or the immortal brown-orange jacket when the weather gets colder. He has a nice voice that makes Lucas think of sunlight, warm and golden.

And he’s the most goddamn gorgeous person Lucas has ever seen. So there’s that.

Lucas gets to see Eliott every Tuesday and Friday morning. Eliott is always nice and smiley, even at 7 AM, and very kindly ignores it whenever Lucas is very obviously trying not to yawn as he takes his order. Eliott always drinks the same thing, and it’s tea, of all the options he could choose, but Lucas finds it endearing, even if Yann keeps making fun of him for it, like right now.

”Lover boy not here yet?” Yann asks as he comes out of the staff room, only to find Lucas slumped at the cash register, trying not to fall asleep. It’s 7:30. Lucas likes this job, yes; the fact that he has to wake up at 6 for the morning shifts is not why he likes it.

”He’s not a ”lover boy”,” Lucas mutters. They’ve had this conversation before. ”Stop calling him that.”

Yann shrugs, raising his eyebrows. ”Yeah, he’s not but he could be,” he says and winks, and Lucas thinks, it’s too early for this. ”You know I’m right.”

”You’re not right,” Lucas tells him. It doesn’t sound convincing.

”I’m right,” Yann says. He sounds like he’s having the time of his life. ”You realise I still have that picture of you blushing while taking his order, right? It’s hard proof.”

Lucas is, suddenly, very grateful that the morning rush hasn’t started yet and they’re still alone at the coffee shop. ”I asked you to delete that,” he says, feeling the traitorous blush creeping its way onto his face.

”And I’ve decided to ignore that request,” Yann says, the cheeky bastard, but then he has to notice something about Lucas’s expression because his grin softens. ”Lucas, he keeps coming back here twice a week, and he doesn’t even drink coffee. It’s a coffee shop. Have you never thought about that?”

He has. ”Maybe he really likes tea.”

”Yeah, maybe,” Yann says, and then the bell at the door tinkles, so he turns to greet the first customer, ”Or maybe it’s not the tea he likes.”

Lucas only ducks his head and doesn’t say anything in reply.

He tries not to think about it, as his shift progresses. He busies himself with making the orders and not messing anything up as Yann handles the cash register, and then when that’s done, he busies himself with cleaning and then busies himself with whatever else he can after that. He also tries, and fails, not to flit his gaze to the clock every five minutes. It’s Friday today. It’s really stupid, how his heartbeat stutters every time someone comes through the door.

Lucas knows it probably doesn’t mean anything — how nice Eliott is, or how he seems to light up whenever he spots Lucas, like Lucas has anywhere else to be. Eliott is nice to everyone, from what he’s noticed. And Lucas is not blind, okay, it’s not particularly difficult to realise that Eliott might flirt with him a little bit from time to time, but maybe he’s just…naturally flirty, or something. Or maybe he’s doing it unconsciously. Lucas can’t really see any other explanation, really, because people as beautiful as Eliott don’t really get interested in people like Lucas.

(Imane almost maimed him with a spoon, once, when he’d said that out loud, but that’s how it is. There’s nothing self-deprecating about it, really; it’s just the truth.)

He’s so deep into his thoughts that he doesn’t catch Yann saying his name at first, but then he snaps his head up and —

Eliott is here at the counter. Lucas remembers, like he does every time he sees him, why he’d kept calling him Beautiful Boy in his head for almost three weeks before he finally caught his real name.

”I need to make a call, dude, I just remembered,” Yann says, untying his apron and turning to Lucas, and he doesn’t ever try to hide the sly grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. ”Can you take care of the cash register for a second?”

”Um,” Lucas says, thinking, fuck you but also thinking, thank you so much. ”Yeah, I— Yeah, okay.”

”Great,” Yann says, beaming like a child that got away with something, and then slides past him, and Lucas is left on his own.

Eliott fidgets a little by the cash register. Lucas swallows down how idiotically flustered he feels and comes up to him.

”Hi, Eliott,” he says, hoping it comes off sounding normally. ”Your usual?”

Eliott’s usual is rosehip and cranberry tea, which Lucas has teased him about, on some occasions. Eliott smiles at him, but there’s something off about it today, and Lucas wonders briefly if it’s because Eliott is afraid that he’ll make fun of him again, maybe.

”Yeah, sounds good,” Eliott tells him and then quickly turns his eyes away, looks down before flitting his gaze up again. Lucas blinks. ”Sounds great.”

”Okay,” he smiles. “Right up.”

He rings it in, and Eliott pays, and Lucas feels— a little strange. Without any specific reason to, really, except this is usually the part when Eliott’s vague flirting starts. Eliott likes to lean over the counter a little and ask about how Lucas’s shift has been going, or — if Lucas is feeling brave and manages to ask Eliott about his day first — talks about something he’s seen on the street and found funny, or a book he’s been reading or a song he’s been listening to. That’s how it usually goes, and it’s enough for Lucas to spend the rest of the day smiling quietly to himself when nobody else can see him.

Except that now, when he goes to make Eliott’s tea — since Yann still hasn’t, shockingly, finished his call — Eliott is completely silent. He stands at the cash register and kind of just keeps biting at his lower lip — which, god — and shuffles a little awkwardly on his feet, and even when he sends Lucas a smile, it seems strained around the edges. Lucas finishes making the tea with a confused frown forming on his face, and it only deepens when he hands Eliott the cup and Eliott takes it, says, ”Thank you,” and then just keeps standing there.

Lucas tries to discreetly size him up, starting to feel worry sprout up next to his initial confusion. ”You’re welcome,” he says and it comes out sounding more like a question than a statement. He catches Eliott’s gaze, bright and beautiful. ”Is everything all right?”

”Yes, it’s— yes,” Eliott says, but the words are quick and laced with something Lucas can’t pinpoint. Eliott licks his lips again. Lucas tries very hard not to follow the movement too closely. ”I’m— listen, I— I need help.”

Lucas’s frown deepens. ”Okay,” he says, trying to swallow the worry down, ”well, how can I help you?”

It comes out sounding stupid but he can’t do much about it, really. Not when Eliott’s acting weird like that. They might not know each other very well, but he’s been talking to Eliott at least twice a week for the past two months and he doesn’t think he’s seen him acting like this before. Eliott usually seems like an extremely laid-back guy, with his gorgeous face and tall frame and shoulders hunched just a little bit. He laughs like he doesn’t have anything to worry about, ever. Lucas is not sure how to approach this change in his behaviour.

”This is going to sound really stupid,” Eliott says and then fidgets with the rings on his fingers, making a pause like he’s waiting for Lucas to stop him from talking. Lucas doesn’t, only waits until Eliott looks up at him again, then watches as Eliott takes a breath. ”Listen, I’m not sure if you know, but I’m an art student.” Lucas nods. He figured that out right, then. ”And I actually have an art project to make, and it’s about—it’s, well—” Eliott cuts himself off. Lucas raises his eyebrows, hoping it comes off as encouraging. ”It’s— We’ve been talking about what attraction and beauty mean in the context of contemporary art, and my teacher asked us to draw a portrait based on that theme, and I know it probably sounds extremely idiotic but I— was wondering if maybe you’d agree if I drew you. Possibly. If that’s okay.”

It takes Lucas a moment to register what Eliott has said.

Then, he swears his heart fucking stops for a moment, probably because all the blood in his system rushes to his face as he blushes.

”You—” Lucas is the one stuttering now. ”You want to draw me?”

Eliott runs a hand through his hair in a gesture that Lucas finally pinpoints as nervousness. Eliott’s freaking nervous. Oh, Jesus. ”I mean…if that’s okay?”

Lucas barely hears it. ”For your project about beauty?”

He watches, incredulously, as Eliott ducks his head and the tips of his ears get bright red. ”Yes,” Eliott tells him, small, and then he takes a breath and kind of squares his shoulders like he’s getting ready for something and says, in that same small, warm, sunlight voice, ”I— I just think you’re really beautiful.”

And Lucas thinks, oh.

For a moment, he just stands and looks at Eliott. At Beautiful Boy, with his big eyes and messy hair and his forever-there jacket, at how he shuffles on his feet nervously and how he’s fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt now. Something in his Lucas’s chest tips over and floods him with warmth, a tingly feeling, spreading slowly.

He says, ”Okay.”

Eliott’s head snaps up at that. ”Okay?”

”Yeah,” Lucas says, smiling at how Eliott’s voice sounds, then smiling wider as Eliott’s face lights up with a wide grin. ”Sounds good.”

”Great,” Eliott says. Lucas nods in agreement. It’s really great. Really great. Eliott thinks he’s beautiful. They keep smiling at each other like lunatics, grinning like kids, at 8 AM on a Friday. Lucas loves this job.

After a moment, Eliott shrugs a little, and it’s sheepish and endearing all at once and Lucas thinks, god. Jesus. ”Can I get your number?” Eliott asks, sounding shy, but also like he’s happy and Lucas is nodding before he even knows it.

He writes his number down on Eliott’s cup of tea, and then Eliott takes it and, smiling at Lucas with the brightest grin he’s seen from him yet, says, ”Thank you.”

And then he turns around and goes, and Lucas keeps grinning until Yann finally materialises by his side and starts laughing at how red Lucas’s face apparently is.

(He gets a text later.

what would you say, it says, if we started our portrait drawing session with a nice dinner first?)

[askmerriauthor]

Pokemon SwSh Thoughts - Post Game

So I’ve finished Pokemon Sword’s primary content.  All that’s left is to finish up the PokeDex and drive myself insane trying to whip up all the variations of Alcremie.  That, and delaying buying an online subscription for as long as possible before I bother with trading to get the other game’s exclusives.  Here’s some thoughts on the game after the fact:

Pokemon SwSh really needed to come out in late 2020, period.  I’ve enjoyed the game so far, but I’ve played it for about a week without putting in too much time/effort grinding and I’ve already done pretty much everything there is to do.  I had my Starter leveled up to 100 before I even left the Wild Area for the very first time.  The pacing and content depth of this game are pretty much non-existent, whereas the majority of the effort has clearly been put toward refining the competitive combat development.  That’s great for those players who really like the battle system, but not so much for those of us who like story and broader gameplay elements.

Pro - Streamlined Gameplay One thing I’ve wanted in Pokemon for ages has been the ability to skip tutorials.  I understand the necessity of having them, as every game that comes out is going to be some player’s first and their presence is for that player.  But at least having the option to skip them for us old hats would be nice.  SwSh does that!  I was delighted to discover that the game allows you to bypass tutorials with a simple yes/no prompt when a new element is introduced.  How to catch Pokemon, type match-ups, how to heal at Pokemon Centers, and so forth - all the stuff previous games led us through by the nose has been made optional this time around.

I’ve seen some people saying that this game holds the player’s hand too much as it leads us from one gameplay element to the next and doesn’t let us progress at our own leisure.  To some degree this is true, but it’s far less egregious than in previous games, such as SuMo.  There’s yet to be a good balance between giving the player free reign and giving them enough guidance to ensure we never feel lost, but this has been an inoffensive example as far as I’m concerned.  The game does end up feeling rather railroaded, but I don’t necessarily consider that a fault of hand-holding. I’ll get to this matter later on.

Pro - The Style Galar is a very pretty region and the game makes good use of the Switch’s higher capacity to produce excellent backdrops for the player to explore.  Many of the Pokemon have charming animations (Falinks is my favorite on this respect).  The towns are all really well-designed in terms of visuals, especially compared to the bare-bones looks of older generations.  I feel like there could have been more, but what we got is still great.

Pro - Implications in Lore Those of you who know me know how much I love lore and world building.  Pokemon, as a franchise, is ripe with opportunity to examine its lore to the most tiny and obscure detail, so any new addition to the franchise is welcome on that front.  Galar has some pretty fascinating nuggets to contribute.

I love that the League in Galar, as well as competitive Pokemon Training in general, is treated like a career sport.  In specific, I love that this view and practice is exclusive to Galar - I wouldn’t like it at all if the entire franchise shifted to this angle, but it works great for a one-off region.  I like that Kabu specifically relocated himself from Hoenn to join the sports league as it doesn’t exist in his home region.  The Champion being a sort of major celebrity/superhero, the way Gym Leaders can recruit proteges or even inheritors of their rank from among contenders, the sort of clique all the Gym Leaders have with one another - it’s a really neat dynamic.  I also like the notion that actually completing the Gym Challenge isn’t something common and most Trainers who try rarely make it even halfway through.  That’s an interesting contrast to other regions where collecting Gym Badges seems almost as a given and the League itself is considered the real challenge, or where the whole endeavor is designed to be finished as a matter of course, like in Alola.

There’s also some really neat additions to the overall lore brought in from the Pokemon Masters mobile game.  While its place in canon is questionable, it does specifically mention Galar in a few places.  The idea that Pokemon who do not appear in the current Dex are banned from Galar by customs (perhaps identified as potentially dangerous/invasive species) is an interesting one.  So is the claim that Iris - the Champion of Unova in BW2 - is a cousin of Leon and Hop.  I love it when there are connections amid titles like that as it really helps build a more unified setting.

-Edit-: Darn, apparently those screenshots were fakes.  Strike that positive from the list, I suppose.

Mixed Pro/Con - The Availability of Pokemon and the Wild Area I’m not talking about Dexit - I have my own thoughts on that explained elsewhere and frankly don’t think it’s going to end up as bad as everyone is fretting over in the long run.  No, in this particular case I’m focused on the availability of Pokemon that are in the game itself.

To put it simply... it’s too easy.  I know that filling out the PokeDex isn’t supposed to be a huge challenge, but I’ve gotten the majority of it done - evolved forms, item-reliant forms, gender/size/color variations included - with pretty much no effort whatsoever.  I like the idea of the Wild Area in principle but what it ends up being in practice is lacking.  It’s too easy to just hoover up Pokemon at a breakneck pace, which leads to other zones and the Wild Area itself becoming pretty much immediately obsolete.  I have no need to return to them once I’ve gotten everything I need and there’s not enough general content to urge me to visit again.

The Wild Area itself is a big open sandbox that you can roam around in, which is nice compared to more linear zones in past games.  Galar has its railroad routes, but they’re brief (aside from the obligatory overlong water route, which even then is still quite a lot smaller than other regions’ have been).  However, it’s just that - a big open sandbox.  You can wander through it very easily and even traipse into the “high level” zones without fear because you can see all the Pokemon coming and give them a wide berth to avoid them.  There aren’t any obstacles or challenges within the Wild Area itself, and the game makes it supremely easy to find Pokemon even under specific weather/time conditions, which I feel is a missed opportunity.  I would have rather the Wild Area been MUCH bigger and more involved, full of places to explore and puzzles to solve.  Similarly, I would rather that Pokemon were more difficult to come by as well - that a greater deal of effort would have been put toward tracking and discovering certain harder-to-find Pokemon, with more in-game detective work to find your prize.

Mixed Pro/Con - The Characters The ensemble cast of new Gym Leaders are great - I enjoy the majority of them and frankly want more interactions, more encounters, just more in general.  That’s sort of the problem though - I want more.  The game itself criminally under-utilizes these characters, especially compared to how much more involved and explored Gym Leaders have been in recent games.  There is precious little content using the Gym Leaders here in Galar as it stands and I constantly found myself wanting them to hang out longer and have the chance to learn more about them.  Their League Cards are a neat little addition full of interesting tidbits about their histories, natures, and relationships with each other, but I would MUCH rather have gotten to see all that play out in the game itself rather than read it as a flavor blurb.

On the con side of this, however, is the fact that all of the characters are extremely one-dimensional.  We’ve been seeing a steady increase in the depth and development of supporting characters in the games since BW onward, with SuMo arguably having the most to date.  The overall characterization in SwSh is incredibly lacking by comparison as we don’t get nearly enough time to be with the cast, nor is the cast given the chance to present more than one note per.  Nobody has any sort of emotional growth or development.  The closest thing to a character arc in the game is Hop’s acceptance of the idea that he’s not going to be the Champion, but it doesn’t have anywhere near as much punch as it could and is over in the blink of an eye compared to how he spends THE ENTIRE GAME repeating the same “I’m gonna be the Champion/Hokage/Pirate King!” spiel every time he’s on screen.

Con - Dynamaxing and Max Raid Battles I’m not really on board with the whole “Mega-Evolution is best! No more gimmicks!” train because that’s just silly to me.  Every game has its gimmick and the way Pokemon gradually picks up tricks and traits from its past versions to consolidate into newer titles is one of its strengths.  That said, Dynamaxing is worthless and a pointless addition to the game, both in presentation and practice.

The visual of a Pokemon going kaiju is a neat concept and one I was initially intrigued by, but in practice it falls flat because it’s as thin as cardboard.  It’s just Mega-Evolution and Z-Moves smooshed together with an additional 3 round time limit tacked on.  All it functionally does is buff your Pokemon’s HP pool and add additional weather/status effects to certain attacks, but in some cases the Dynamax versions of attacks are actually weaker/less useful than their base form.  In Gym Battles all the way through the final League fight with Leon, I didn’t bother with Dynamaxing because my Pokemon were strong enough to not need it.  I could one-shot Dynamaxed Pokemon with ease using a non-Dynamaxed Pokemon and that really shows a flaw in the design if ever there was one.  Dynamaxing doesn’t add or improve anything vital to gameplay - it’s just fluff.

Max Raid Battles as found in the Wild Area are even worse.  For those of you who don’t know, these are instanced battles against a Dynamaxed/Gigantamaxed wild Pokemon where you team up with three other players/NPCs.  If you win, you get a bunch of useful items and have the chance to catch the wild Pokemon as well, which is the only way you can get certain Gigantamax-capable Pokemon reliably.

The issue with these Max Raid Battles is that they’re an absolute slog.  In the early stages of the game they’re all super easy to the point that I could solo them and thus gathered mountains of EXP-boosting candies, which let me overlevel my Pokemon beyond reason.  Since the whole “your Pokemon is too high level and won’t listen to you” thing apparently doesn’t apply to Starters and special Event Pokemon, I was able to max-level and run rampant across all opposition with my Starter and my special “thanks for buying early” Meowth.  HOWEVER.  The difficulty scale of the Max Raid Battles increases with your game progress, so by the time I finished the game and went back into the Wild Area, the Max Raid Battles’ difficulty had ramped up.  That’s an okay compromise on its face, but the manner in which the difficulty has increased is poor game design.  The battles aren’t any harder, they just take longer - the wild Pokemon has more HP,  tosses up a few rounds of shields to soak damage at the start and again halfway through the fight, and purges stat boosts from the player and party throughout the battle.  It just makes the fights a pain in the ass to get through rather than making them more challenging or fun, and it’s gotten to the point that I don’t even bother with them anymore.  They’re just not worth the trouble, not even for the sake of trying to farm EXP candies because, at this point in the game, all Pokemon in the Wild Area scale up to level 60+ and thus are perfectly serviceable as EXP farming fodder themselves.

On a lore side of things, Dynamaxing is really confusing.  There’s the whole visual aspect of the Pokemon growing to giant sizes and sometimes changing their appearances, and there’s these massive arenas built to facilitate the whole thing.  But the game itself goes out of its way to impress the fact that the Pokemon aren’t actually getting bigger.  They just appear to grow in size and haven’t actually physically changed themselves so Dynamaxing is more like a giant hard light holographic projection than anything else?  It’s just a really weird design choice to have made and I don’t understand why it was included.

Con - The Writing So, writing is very important to me.  It’s literally been my job for the past decade with various game studios.  I don’t consider myself any sort of literary snob as I feel there’s a place for schlock right alongside masterpieces - they all serve a specific purpose and fulfill a particular hunger the reader would like satisfied.

That said, SwSh’s writing is abysmal.

Right on the face, there’s not enough of it.  The game is criminally short and light on content, which directly impacts its pacing.  Remember earlier when I mentioned that things felt railroaded?  That’s because there’s not enough story to rest on - it all flies by as fast as can be, forcing the player along a very narrow and brief chain of events that don’t feel consequential at all.  Further, the player has no agency in events whatsoever.  It’s not the player’s story - it’s Hop’s story.  We’re the supporting role to his journey, shallow as that arc may be.  Hop is the one who initiates the events of the game without our input as a character and then we spend the entire game following him around, or being pushed into the next event by other characters who are facilitating Hop.  At no point is the player ever given the chance to express their own characterization, motivation, or even opinions.  Nearly every two-choice dialogue option that appears boils down to “Yes” or “Slightly More/Less Enthusiastic Yes”, which is a huge downgrade from the genuine negative responses and NPC reactions that were present in SuMo.

In terms of overall plot, SwSh has pretty much the same level of depth and complexity as the original Red/Blue titles, and that is as scathing a criticism in this modern age as I can possibly imagine.  The whole story is “run in a circle, collect badges, fight vaguely present villainous threat, fight league.”  We are actively forced from one gym fight to the next with no time to breathe, no story-focused events in between, and not even any chance to appreciate the gym, its leader, or even the towns they take place in.  It’s one and done - once you’ve got the badge there’s no reason to hang around and the story shuffles us along quickly as can be.  I mean that literally in some cases - there are hints of a greater plot at hand with Sonia investigating the history of Galar’s legends and the potential machinations of mega-corporate mogul Chairman Rose.  But each time those are broached in game play, the game pushes the player off-screen and says “Well, that’s not something you need to worry about.  Go get another badge!”  I mean, LITERALLY!  There’s a point where The Plot begins to kick in where Pokemon begin to spontaneously Dynamax and cause havoc, which is the narrative queue for the player to become involved and for the story to reveal a new facet.  But when that happens, Leon LITERALLY says “leave this to the adults, you just focus on your Gym Challenge” and runs off-screen to handle it himself.  It would be a good narrative subversion if it led up to things eventually getting out of hand and the player getting roped into things, or the player having the ability to defy such warnings and interject themselves into danger.  But that doesn’t happen - the game just forces us to focus on the Gym Challenge alone and keeps all the actual plot of the game off-screen away from us.  This is very poor narrative design and game design alike, and it all comes to nothing because we’re forced to clean up everything in the end anyway by battling the villain and legendaries as per usual.

Though I should also point out that there’s no villain in this game.

But what about Team Yell and Chairman Rose, I hear you ask?  They’re not villains, both literally and figuratively respectively.  Team Yell never really does anything other than act as brief gate locking elements throughout the game until you finish the Gym you’re at, then they bounce off to the next part of the route they’re set to block.  They don’t do anything bad and, as it’s later revealed, they’re actually just a bunch of Spikemuth Gym staffers who are posing as hooligans to support Marnie.  They’re literally not villains and, once you beat the Spikemuth Gym, they actually become supporting characters who cheer for the player character and help out against the actual supposed villain of the game.

The actual “villain” of the game is Chairman Rose and his assistant Oleana.  However, they’re only villains because the script says they are.  They don’t actually do anything bad throughout the entire game nor is there any indication that they have some sort of grand master plan.  The most we get is some unusual happenings like small quakes and explosions in the distance, but the game never allows us any chance to investigate - we’re just shoved off toward the next Gym each time.  So when Chairman Rose is finally revealed to be the Big Bad, it comes completely out of left field and seems to happen for no reason whatsoever.  Further, IT IS FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER.  Chairman Rose’s plan and goal is never explained in depth - all we get is the vague indication that he believes that Galar isn’t sustainable and there will be an inevitable energy crisis in about 1,000 years, and somehow his EVIL SCHEME will fix it.  But, like, even Leon flat-out says “I understand your concern but you’re being hasty, this doesn’t need to be rushed, chill out for five seconds and let’s figure this out reasonably”.  Instead Rose interrupts the Champion match and announces his EVIL SCHEME on global broadcast for literally no good reason.  There was no dire immediacy that required him to do it right then and there, or in that manner, but the plot needed to move us along so that’s how it goes.

It really doesn’t help that, prior to all this, there’s absolutely no indication at all that Rose nor Oleana are bad guys.  They’re just business folk who appear to have nothing but good intentions and support for Leon, with the other adults of the cast all happily trusting them.  There is nothing to make them seem suspicious in practice and they offer no reason to doubt them at all, so them suddenly being the bad guys is just confusing.  Further, how the player is first introduced to the concept of them being antagonists is easily the most ridiculous logic jump and overreaction I’ve seen since the old Adam West Batman television show.  So get this: after a battle, Leon says he’ll meet Player and Hop for dinner to celebrate.  Player and Hop wait for Leon, but he never shows up.  Another NPC explains that Leon was called in for a last-minute meeting by Chairman Rose (who is his boss and has made such requests of Leon’s time throughout the game, as I feel is important to point out) and apologizes for having to miss the dinner plans.  Simple enough sort of situation, right?  The sort of thing that any reasonable person would shrug and say “Well, that sucks but okay, let’s go eat on our own then” to, right?  So what happens here instead?

The Player, Hop, Marnie, and her Gym Leader brother GATHER A SMALL MOB AND STORM CHAIRMAN ROSE’S BUSINESS HQ, FIGHTING THEIR WAY THROUGH SECURITY.

I mean, escalation much?  We all have smartphones - just send Leon a text, for goodness’ sake.  I’m playing through these events constantly going “why the hell are we doing this and why is everyone acting like it’s some sort of dire emergency?”.  And do you know what happens when we finally kick down the doors to Chairman Rose’s office?  We find Chairman Rose and Leon quietly having a peaceful chat, after which Leon apologizes for having to cancel the dinner plans and we all walk out together like nothing happened.  It was just this huge, needless overreaction that has no consequence and that neither Rose nor Leon even bat an eye at.  We, as the players, learn absolutely nothing of importance and are back on the Gym Challenge immediately with no functional changes to the narrative.

Like... what was the point of that?!  How was that the best option to try and put Chairman Rose and his underlings into the role of antagonists for us to oppose?

So what is Chairman Rose’s EVIL SCHEME anyway?  Basically he wants to provide Galar with renewable clean energy which... uh... is bad?  Somehow?  Apparently he plans to use a Legendary Pokemon called Eternatus - apparently the source of Dynamaxing - which is literally never mentioned at any point in the game except precisely when it’s time to fight/capture it, nor does fighting/capturing it have any impact on the story or setting.  You would think that the player being in control of a massive Eldritch horror that has UNLIMITED POWER at its disposal would be something of a sticking point somewhere in the story, but no.  Eternatus and Rose’s plan are never mentioned until precisely the time you need to deal with them, and once that’s done they’re both never mentioned again.  Done and done all in one.  No gradual seeding of information, no hints and clues throughout the game, no development of lore - just wham, bam, thank you ma’am and off we go.

Y’know, call me silly but in a game that has undertones referencing climate change, extinction of animal species, and criticisms against capitalism run amok, is it really a good idea to depict the guy advocating for clean energy to be bad?  That feels like a missed mark to me.

The post-game plot, should one bother to call it that, is just inane.  It basically boils down to a pair of one-shot baddies who show up and say “Ha ha! We’re rich and that means we’re better than everyone! Watch as we cause trouble for vague reasons, get hoist by our own petard, and then fuck off forever! Byeeeee~!”  The post-game is completely pointless and doesn’t add anything of value at all.  Which, again, compare to older games like ORAS’ post-game expansion content and it’s nothing but a damn shame.

SwSh’s writing is shallow and limited at best, with one-dimensional characters, no genuine conflict or resolution, terrible pacing, and repetitive elements that boomerang around over and over and over again to the point of annoyance.  Compared to what we’ve seen Pokemon achieve in earlier titles like BW, ORAS, and SuMo, it makes it all the more obvious that SwSh was not given ANYWHERE near the time and love it needed in development and is a massive downgrade in that respect.

Con - Lots of Style, No Substance To wrap all this up - I enjoyed playing SwSh as much as I did any other early Pokemon game.  I think that, as a first installment on a new system, it’s fine.  That’s all - it’s just fine.  It’s serviceable as a means of establishing the franchise onto the Switch and completing its move off purely-mobile mediums like the Gameboy and 3DS.  It’s pretty to look at and has a superficial level of engagement, but its prettiness and level of content very quickly reveal themselves to be only skin deep.  Once you get past the initial gloss there’s really nothing to this game compared to the content, involvement, and writing quality displayed in past titles on lesser-powered systems.  The towns are all pretty but there’s nothing to do in any of them aside from a Gym battle - there’s no additional fun to be had in each location, making them little more than set pieces.  The characters have initial appeal and potential for more, but the game never explores them at all.  There’s room for a bigger narrative and interesting story with the elements presented, but no opportunity to actually see them fleshed out.  The Wild Area seems big and involved at first, but as soon as you’ve gone around its loop once or twice you suddenly realize how small and compartmentalized it really is, and it lacks any reason to revisit in the end game.  The major game play function - Dynamaxing/Gigantamaxing - is little more than a novelty that is basically irrelevant to gameplay itself and, in an absolutely baffling decision by the folk behind the official competitive scene, is actually somehow banned from being used in competitions?  Like, not even “we’ve disabled the Dynamax button in online” but rather “if the competitive Pokemon you’ve spent so much time perfectly constructing has a Gigantamax form, it will not even be allowed access at all, so you better have an identical non-Gigantamax version on hand if you want to play”.  So, what exactly is the point of even having Gigantamax Pokemon then?

Everything about SwSh seems half-baked.  The ideas are there but they aren’t finished.  It should have been given much more development time and, having been in the position of the creative/dev team under demands from the shareholders, I completely sympathize with Game Freak’s devs in all this.  SwSh is ultimately a weak product but one with a lot of good ideas that weren’t given the chance to really shine.  As such, I’ve got rather high hopes for the next installment to improve on the unfortunately thin foundation SwSh has set.  Game Freak’s team has given us some amazing Pokemon games in the past and, assuming they’re given sufficient time and resources to make a title to their satisfaction, I have every confidence they’ll do so again.