#it’s just reached a point where the juniors who used to follow every rule out of fear dgaf anymore

[starry-eyed-psychopomp]

Lan Qiren was Wei Wuxian’s first real look into the hypocrisy of the cultivation world, which is a MAJOR THEME in the novels. This supposed beacon of righteousness who acts exactly like the woman who’s been abusing him for his whole life. This teacher who attacks students for asking questions. This disciplinarian who doles out corporal punishment for minor infractions that he himself breaks regularly. Like, yeah, of course he sees through the sects’ bullshit after the Sunshot Campaign, that’s how he’s always known cultivation leaders to act!

For someone who is very rigid about the rules, Lan Qiren sure does break a lot of them, especially in regards to WWX. He shouts, he shows excessive emotion (mostly anger), he was very quick to judge WWX, and there are probably a lot of other rules he breaks by treating WWX the way he does (I’m sure throwing a book at him broke quite a few rules (is it considered instigating a fight?))

And yet, after all of that, he never punishes himself, but he consistently punishes WWX, who was never really given time to get used to any of the rules they have in the first place.

[gukyi]

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur. 

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks. 

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all. 

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ��all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode. 

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments. 

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did. 

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself. 

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half. 

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you. 

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off. 

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything. 

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds. 

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you. 

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated. 

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly. 

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you. 

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years. 

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost. 

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about. 

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless. 

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together. 

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest. 

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you. 

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement. 

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows. 

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click. 

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why. 

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

 “What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair. 

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems. 

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you. 

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship. 

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it. 

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio. 

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic. 

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since. 

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have. 

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in. 

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once. 

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this. 

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right? 

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins. 

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing. 

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention. 

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind. 

Another voice breaks you from your trance. 

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide. 

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes. 

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to. 

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you. 

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you. 

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you? 

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence. 

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them? 

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met. 

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor. 

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook. 

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date. 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this. 

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you. 

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief. 

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it. 

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it. 

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory. 

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away. 

You wonder what he sees. 

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door. 

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door. 

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left. 

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind. 

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet. 

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side. 

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet. 

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive. 

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him. 

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them. 

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing. 

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter. 

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash. 

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them. 

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him. 

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card. 

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black. 

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body. 

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is. 

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you. 

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown. 

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back. 

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further. 

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you. 

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him. 

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet. 

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment. 

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester. 

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there. 

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that. 

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk. 

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room. 

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world. 

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well. 

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen. 

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written. 

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her. 

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page… 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling. 

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom. 

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head. 

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease. 

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart. 

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you. 

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving. 

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless. 

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him. 

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain. 

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing. 

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure. 

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth. 

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about. 

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out. 

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process. 

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world. 

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious. 

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side. 

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her. 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[vrishchikawrites]

Anon asks - There was another idea I had seen on @crossdressingdeath's tumblr where JC's reputation was ruined because of his behaviour and WWX's attempts to protect him from the consequences of his behaviour. The concept happens pre Qiongqi Path where JC attacks WWX to the point it injures and frightens him. A passerby sees WWX startled and asks him what's wrong but WWX dismisses it as nothing. Said bystander ends up thinking that JC had sexually assaulted him resulting in the cultivation world gossiping about JC being a rapist when really he isn't. Overall, the cultivation world gossips about the other shitty things JC had done and because he did alot of pretty bad things, he can't defend himself and resorts to victim blaming WWX. That however only has him dig a deeper hole for himself. WWX, on the other hand is left confused as to why everybody was pitying him all of a sudden when they used to hate and/or fear him. By the time the truth comes to light, the cultivation world thinks JC had deserved it anyway with it ending with JC hated just for him being himself and public opinion on WWX flipping. If you don't mind, can you make it light-hearted?

(Probably not as light-hearted as you would wish. It is a bit complicated. Be a little gentle because I wrote this twice and ended up fleshing it out much more. Is this a short prompt or a long one? who knows. writer is tired. she will sleep now.)

Everyone has personal boundaries, even people who are usually tactile and social. Boundaries exist even between family members who love and trust each other.

Wei Wuxian is a veteran fresh from war. He has survived bloody battlefields, spent days dealing with one hostile enemy after another. Even before that, he had spent his days constantly battling resentful ghosts and monsters in a place he can’t bear thinking of now. Before that, he had survived torture at the hands of the Wens. And before-

Better not to think about it.

So, when Jiang Cheng presses up against him threateningly, his face twisted and eyes furious, Wei Wuxian can’t help but flinch. He takes a step back and puts some distance between them quickly. Jiang Cheng has grown increasingly bitter and discontent in these past few months and Wei Wuxian is getting tired of dealing with it. He doesn’t want to be in such close proximity with a man seething with fury.

Unfortunately, that reaction proves to be a mistake because Jiang Cheng follows him, “What? Are you too big for us now? Turning away from me in disgust now that you’re a war hero and the best of us?” Jiang Cheng is so close, their noses almost touch and Wei Wuxian feels his hair stand on end in response.

“Jiang Cheng,” He says lowly, something unsettling stirring in his chest. He feels almost anxious. His heart is racing and the proximity makes him feel like he’s trapped, “Back away.”

“Back away?” Jiang Cheng snarls, “Who are you to command me, Wei Wuxian? Do you know what people are saying about YunmengJiang? Do you know who-”

“Back away,” Wei Wuxian says tightly, his skin crawling, “Now.” His hard-earned instincts are sounding alarms. He feels threatened and provoked. He feels the resentful energy in him respond to the danger.

“What are you going to do? Send a few ghosts at me?” He sneers, “Try it! We’ll see how brave you are under the wrath of my Zidian.”

No. Wei Wuxian isn’t going to just stand here and let Jiang Cheng pick up Yu-furen’s habits, He’s just about to react, to give Jiang Cheng the thrashing he clearly desires when he realizes they are outside. He glances beyond his Sect Leader’s shoulder and sees a small group of three clad in bright white looking at them with wide eyes.

He bites back his angry retort and masters himself. He’s not going to squabble with Jiang Cheng in front of Lan disciples. His relationship with Lan Zhan is strained as it is.

“We’re in public,” He says, hoping that concern for his Sect’s reputation would move Jiang Cheng if concern for Wei Wuxian doesn’t.

Jiang Cheng looks over his shoulder and sneers at the Lan disciples before rolling his head, “Lans, of course.” He snarls and pushes Wei Wuxian away roughly, “I’ll deal with you later.”

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath and watches his brother leave.

The Lan disciples are still looking at him with heartwarming concern. He waves at them with a smile and watches as they start like little ducklings and bow to him before fleeing.

Cute.

---

“We have to do something!” Lan Zhanxiao insists, “Did you see how he looked? Wei Wuxian was clearly trying to-”

“Shh! Keep your voice down!” Lan Lishan reprimands.

“Don’t say his name!” Lan Guan whispers urgently, looking around in a panic. There are already a few curious and interested eyes glancing in their direction. Wei Wuxian is a notorious name, after all. Even non-cultivators are interested in the man who had just a material impact on the war. It is hard to tell if they would’ve won without that powerful unorthodox cultivator on their side.

“We can’t just stand by and do nothing,” Lan Zhanxiao, always the righteous one, continues. He doesn’t care about the people around them, “If Wei Wuxian is hurt and we do nothing to prevent it, aren’t we culpable as well?”

“This is Wei Wuxian. Who would dare?” Lan Guan asks incredulously, “He is one of the most powerful cultivators in existence.”

“Is he?” Zhanxiao demands, “Doesn’t everyone know he’s very loyal to Jiang-zongzhu? Would he take a step against him? Even if it meant saving himself?”

“He should be building his own sect,” Lan Lishan says reluctantly, “He’s the Grandmaster of his cultivation form. It may be an unorthodox method, but it is still something new and entirely unique.” He would know. Lan Lishan is an avid student of history and cultivation theory. He knows that most cultivators with unique abilities tend to form their own sect to pass their teachings down.

He shudders at the prospect of cultivating resentful energy but Wei Wuxian has mentioned it is a technique people with absent or damaged Golden Cores can use.

The potential is almost limitless.

“See what I mean?” Lan Zhanxiao points out, “Hasn’t he been isolated from other cultivators because they fear his methods? If Jiang-zongzhu is really hurting him or…” He grimaces and lowers his voice, “That expression, Shan-ge, it reminds me of jiejie. What if Jiang-zongzhu is… doing something inappropriate?”

They all exchange alarmed glances, “You don’t think…?” Lan Guan breathes, horrified.

“He was scrambling to get away,” Lan Zhanxiao says, “And Jiang-zongzhu kept pressing-”

“We can’t talk about this here,” Lan Lishan says firmly, “Come, let’s leave.”

Unfortunately, they leave chaos behind.

---

Rumors are a powerful entity in the cultivation world. They are born in tea and wine houses, spread from one tradesman to another and spread to the far reaches of cultivation society in a matter of months.

The rumors about Jiang’ Wanyin’s treatment of a war hero are no exception to this rule. People gossip about it with their friends and neighbors, share the news with vendors while on errands, and the rumors continue to grow. With every retelling, the story changes, growing increasingly distorted and vile.

“The entire business is unpleasant,” A small clan cultivator says to one of his tradesman friends, “Jealousy really alters a man.” He speaks about old rumors then, speculations about Wei Wuxian’s parentage, Madam Yu’s wrath, and the Jiang heir’s relatively lackluster growth in comparison to his prodigious shixiong.

“Surely not,” Another cultivator scoffs, “Who would dare raise a hand against Wei Wuxian? Did he not decimate a large Wen battalion with just his flute and some music?”

“Merchants at Lotus Pier say Wei Wuxian always looks wan and tired these days. He has grown pale.” One woman whispers to her companion, “He spends more time in wine houses with ghost maidens than in the comfort of his rebuilt home.”

“It seems so improbable!” A young cultivator protests, “Why would Jiang-zongzhu provoke the sleeping dragon like this? Wei Wuxian is stable now but who knows when he will give into resentment?”

“Lan disciples saw it.”

And that’s the crux of the matter. If the rumor didn’t originate from Lan disciples, it might not have traveled so far. Lans are known for their honest and forthright nature, after all. What cause did they have to lie? And no Lan spoke carelessly, so their words must be the whole truth, without any exaggeration.

Because Lans are the source, everything they say is taken as fact. If one Lan disciple finds Jiang-zongzhu’s behavior horribly inappropriate then it must be. If another Lan is worried about Wei Wuxian’s safety, there must be a just cause.

The rumors spread and propagate, and soon almost the entirety of the cultivation world is aware of them.

---

Gossip is forbidden at Cloud Recesses. Disciples are usually discouraged from meddling in other sect business. Rumor-mongering is punished severely, with all parties involved facing the wrath of the disciple whip.

But Lans are raised to be righteous and compassionate. If someone is in trouble, a Lan must act. He must offer a helping hand and take the victim away from danger.

When the rumors reach Caiyi Town and land on the ear of one Lan Ruyao, he hesitates. He asks around, gets more information, and then rushes back to Cloud Recesses, intent on knowing it all.

Lan Ruyao seeks the three disciples that are the cause of it all and demands an explanation, his mind disturbed with worry. What he hears gives him no comfort for he cannot discard their concerns. The behavior they describe is alarming and their observations are precise, without any emotion clouding their judgment.

Lan Lishan narrates the incident in detail, describing every action with no embellishment or exaggeration. He speaks of Wei Wuxian’s retreat, of Jiang Wanyin’s insistence, the threat of whipping, and words spoken with cruelty and disrespect.

Lan Ruyao’s mind is disturbed as he retreats, absentmindedly assigning some lines to the junior disciples. They have erred by being so indiscreet but their cause is righteous. They don’t deserve severe punishment.

He meditates on the matter for an entire morning, trying to decide on a course of action.

You see, Lan Ruyao is Lan Wangji’s peer. He has known the Second Jade for many years, and while they are not close, they are of the same clan. The entire cultivation world may believe Lan Wangji hates Wei Wuxian, but Ruyao knows better. The Second Jade wouldn’t have been so insistent on bringing Wei Wuxian to Gusu if he didn’t care.

Lan Ruyao suspects both of them hold each other in some esteem. They have saved each other’s sides many times and seem to get along well when they’re not quarreling. He believes that they are friends.

It would be unwise to keep this from Lan Wangji.

Decision made, he quickly requests a private meeting with the Second Jade. The request is granted promptly and soon Lan Ruyao finds himself before his peer, readying himself for a difficult conversation.

The Second Jade listens to his piece without any interruption, his expression blank and beautiful as white jade. But his golden eyes are twin chips of flint, coldly furious.

Indeed, they are friends.

Lan Wangji summons the three junior disciples and questions them thoroughly. His demeanor becomes frostier as the interview progresses, his spiritual energy gaining a deadly edge when the juniors murmur of ‘inappropriate behavior.’

“You have my gratitude,” Lan Wangji says finally, bowing to him and nodding to the juniors, “Rest assured, I will address the matter directly.”

---

“Lan Zhan, wait!” Wei Wuxian protests as Lan Zhan drags him away by the elbow, his uncharacteristic behavior taking him by surprise, “Don’t take him so seriously, Lan Zhan! You know he’s a temperamental brat.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything until they are a fair distance away from Jiang Cheng and the Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian tries to get an explanation for such unusual behavior but his companion is entirely silent, guiding him towards a crop of trees that offer some semblance of privacy.

“How long have you borne this?” Lan Zhan asks once they stop walking, his golden eyes bright and fierce, “How long have you endured without speaking a word to me or your friends?”

“All my life,” He rolls his eyes, “You know Jiang Cheng has a temper and says careless things, Lan Zhan. Don’t worry, I know how to handle him.”

“All your life?” Somehow, Lan Zhan seems stricken, “Wei Ying!”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan,” Honestly, he is moved by Lan Zhan’s concern for him. They have spent so many years just quarreling and being distrustful towards each other. The concern is a pleasant distraction from the wretched state of their relationship, “Don’t worry about it. I can deal with everything Jiang Cheng throws at me.”

“How can you be so callous about your own well-being?” Lan Zhan asks, his tone betraying his dismay, “Do you not care-” He visibly bites back those angry words and calms himself, his voice taking on a gentler note, “Did you think I would not help? That your friends wouldn’t offer you shelter or protection?”

Really, this is a bit of an overreaction, isn’t it?

“Do I really have any friends left, Lan Zhan?” He asks casually but the reaction he receives is anything but casual. Lan Zhan’s eyes widen as though he has been struck, “Aiya, please don’t look like that,” Wei Wuxian feels a stir of panic because Lan Zhan looks almost hurt, “I’m just being a brat.”

“Have a care,” Lan Zhan says, “Your dismissal of this matter doesn’t put me at ease.”

“Lan Zhan,” He sighs, “I’m used to it. You saw how we were at Cloud Recesses. Did I look unusually troubled then?”

“You’ve become… accustomed to it?” Lan Zhan asks, once again looking uncharacteristically stricken. Wei Wuxian feels a stir of concern in his stomach and reaches out, placing a hand on the Second Jade’s arm, “You’re accustomed to it.”

Not knowing what to do in response to such open emotion from Lan Zhan, he looks for something to distract him. Immediately, his mind remembers an old promise, “Let’s focus on something more pleasant. It’s about time you saw Lotus Pier in its full glory, Lan Zhan! I want to show you all of my favorite places, including all of the trees I climbed!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice is low and pained.

Wei Wuxian’s smile softens as he tugs on the Second Jade’s arm, “Don’t think of unpleasant things, Lan Zhan. It’s a beautiful day and we haven’t seen each other in months! Let’s be happy, alright?”

Wei Wuxian feels a jolt of surprise as Lan Zhan raises a hand and covers his fingers, squeezing gently. The touch is warm and reassuring, and it sets Wei his heart racing.

Lan Zhan studies him for a long moment before dipping his head elegantly, his grip on Wei Wuxian’s fingers still firm and steady, “If Wei Ying wishes it,” He promises, “I will make it so.”

Oh.

---

It all comes to a head at the Discussion Conference. Wei Wuxian is accustomed to being the center of attention these days but the quality of that attention is different now. Instead of wary glances, he sees eyes filled with sympathy and tentative smiles of welcome.

Wei Wuxian being Wei Wuxian, ignores the nagging suspicion that lingers at the back of his mind and smiles brightly back at them.

That seems to make things worse because the looks of sympathy seem to somehow intensify. He even sees a few women blink their limpid eyes and turn away, as though disguising tears. Somewhat alarmed, he glances at Jiang Cheng and winces.

His martial brother is bristling with anger. There’s a thundercloud-like expression on his face as he meets every eye in the room with a clear challenge.

If glances towards him are filled with sympathy, those towards Jiang Cheng are filled with contempt and disapproval. Between that and Lan Zhan’s protective hovering, Wei Wuxian is at the end of his patience.

He needs answers and he needs them now before the situation can escalate somehow.

Baffled by the situation, Wei Wuxian looks around and finds the most reliable source of gossip he can find. “What is going on?” He demands as soon as he is at Nie Huiasang’s side, “Why are people glaring at Jiang Cheng like he’s a fierce corpse?”

Nie Huaisang waves his fan, his expression a strange mix of amusement and grim satisfaction. For one, his old friend doesn’t hide behind his usual prevarications. He glances around the room and seems to catch someone’s eye. Wei Wuxian follows that gaze only to blink as Lan Zhan walks sedately towards them, expression stern and disapproving, “Do you know what’s going on, Lan Zhan?”

The Second Jade remains silent, his eyes fixed on Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian sighs in frustration and glares at Nie Huaisang, “Nie-xiong, what?”

His curt tone is enough to snape Nie Huaisang out of his musings. The man smiles wryly behind his fan, “Ah, Wei-xiong,” He waves his free hand, “There has been some speculation about your relationship with-”

“Why don’t you speak up?” A loud voice asks and Wei Wuxian turns around, “Why don’t you defend Wei Wuxian, Jiang-zongzhu? You’re going to let people slander your loyal Head Disciple so boldly?”

It’s Wang Jin, the Sect Leader of Runan Wang Clan. The man’s face is twisted in rage and disgust as he stares at Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian frowns, ready to step forward and stand by Jiang Cheng in such a hostile environment.

Lan Zhan’s hand on his arm stops him.

He looks at the Second Jade questioningly but the man just shakes his head, “Wait.”

“Why should he defend him?” An annoying Jin pipes up, his voice sharp and mocking, “We know what Wei Wuxian is! He may pretend to be loyal on the surface, but he is nothing but a faithless dog-”

“Jin Zixun!” Nie Mingjue snaps, “I will not have you insult one of our men in my presence! He fought and bled on our side.”

Nie Mingjue’s words silence him and Jin Guangyao speaks up soothingly as Wei Wuxian frowns, studying the scene with keen eyes, “Let us all calm down. I’m sure Wang-zongzhu means well.” He smiles placidly, “There have been rumors, just a bit of gossip about Wei-gongzi speaking ill of Jiang-zongzhu.” Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side, mind whirling.

He refuses to be angry. There’s something about this situation that has his instincts rattled. He needs to focus.

“The Hanguang-jin himself said they were lies. Wei Wuxian has never spoken ill of Jiang Wanyin!” Well, that’s not entirely true. He is certain he has called Jiang Cheng a temperamental brat in Lan Zhan’s presence more than once. “Jiang-zongzhu should know better than to-”

“Why does Jiang-zongzhu need to do anything for that man?” Jin Zixun demands and Wei Wuxian feels a stir of amusement. All of this drama on his account? He’s honored.

“What kind of Sect Leader is he?” Wang-zongzhu asks, fuming, “If he doesn’t even defend his own Head Disciple? Has he not brought glory to YungmengJiang? Doesn’t the Sect owe him a debt of gratitude?” Wei Wuxian winces and Jiang Cheng’s expression turns stony, “If you want to talk of rumors, why not discuss the other rumors?” Wang-zongzhu turns to Jiang Cheng with a scowl, “Is he not your brother in all but blood? Didn’t the former Jiang-zongzhu raise Wei Wuxian as his nephew? Is this how YunmengJiang treats its brightest disciple? How will you face Jiang Fengmian, Jiang-zongzhu?”

Wei Wuxian bites back a groan as Jiang Cheng’s expression darkens with fury. This is the absolute worst thing to say to his martial brother.

“Why is he so concerned about this?” Wei Wuxian asks, almost to himself.

Nie Huiasang leans in and whispers in his ear, “His sisters were… assaulted by the Wens.”

Wei Wuxian feels a shudder crawl down his spine and shakes his head. Those disgusting wretches deserved the death he inflicted on them.

He still doesn’t understand what this has to do with him.

He glances at Lan Zhan, he is looking at the scene with his usual frosty expression, giving nothing away. He looks ahead to see Jiang Cheng ready to erupt and frowns. “Lan Zhan, I need to… help, somehow.”

“Wei Ying needs to do nothing.”

He’s about to protest when Jiang Cheng finally snaps, “Glory to YunmengJiang? He has brought nothing but devastation to it!” Wei Wuxian flinches and Lan Zhan steps forward and to the side, pointedly placing himself between the two Jiang Sect cultivators, “YunmengJiang has always been glorious. My ancestors bled and fought for it! We earned our glory through centuries of cultivation and diligence! I owe him a debt? Wei Wuxian owes me the lives of my parents! He provoked the Wens to save Lan Wangji’s life and I lost my family because of it!”

“Jiang-zongzhu, perhaps-”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng interrupted Jin Guangyao, “How I treat my Head Disciple is none of your business.”

“It is very much our business if you’re abusing him,” Nie Mingjue says and it silences everyone.

Wei Wuxian is… dumbfounded. He feels like he’s just a mass of confusion at this point because nothing about this situation makes sense. “Abuse?” He whispers harshly to Nie Huaisang, grabbing his arm to drag him away to a quieter corner, “Nie Huaisang, what is going on? Jiang Cheng doesn’t abuse me!”

“Does he not?” It is Lan Zhan who speaks, his expression solemn, “Truly, Wei Ying? Does he not abuse you?”

“Of course, not-”

“So he didn’t threaten you with Zidian?” Nie Huaisang asks, “Or try to physically intimidate you while you were clearly trying to step away?”

Wei Wuxian frowns, “Well yes, but that is just him being angry! He does that all the time.”

“That is no comfort to us.” Lan Zhan says stiffly.

“Didn’t he push you away several times? We have accounts from people who saw you fall to the ground.” Nie Huaisang’s expression is unusually stern, “Didn’t he seek to isolate you from everyone? Didn’t he keep telling you Wangji-xiong hated you?”

“Wangji-xiong gave every impression of hating me.” Wei Wuxian firmly denies, “Let us not attribute that particular error to someone else.”

“Indeed,” Lan Zhan nods graciously, as expected. He wouldn’t be Lan Zhan if he didn’t accept his own mistakes without hesitation.

“Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang tucks his fan away and he sees Lan Zhan focus on that, his eyes suddenly sharp, “He has been saying the same thing since you were at Cloud Recesses. He has always dragged you away from Lan Wangji. You saved Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan’s lives. Why is he so intent on our Second Jade, hmm?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, “You’re making this unnecessarily complicated.” He says, “On the surface, all of these actions appear wrong but the intent behind them isn’t cruel.”

“Your love for him blinds you.” Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes sharply at his old friend, “If er-ge treated Wangji-xiong like that, you’d be furious. Just the threat of da-ge whipping would have you reaching for your flute.”

“Huaisang-”

“Did you think we wouldn’t feel the same way?”

Wei Wuxian studies him and Lan Zhan, realizing they are utterly serious. Concerned and a bit baffled, he looks at Jiang Cheng over his shoulder, only to find him nose to nose with Wang-zongzhu. “Heavens,” He breathes and steps forward, determined to intervene.

“You think what?” Jiang Cheng’s voice is full of disgust, “You… you think I have… that I’m some disgusting cutsleeve?!”

Wait, what?

“How dare you?! I would never touch a man!”

“Is that what he’s focusing on?” Nie Huaisang asks incredulously.

For once, Wei Wuxian has nothing to say.

---

It takes a few weeks for fresh rumors to make their rounds. People now know that Jiang Wanyin hasn’t behaved inappropriately with his martial brother, but that doesn’t make much difference.

The cultivation world, in general, still believes that Jiang Cheng’s behavior is abhorrent. Wei Wuxian is tempted to point out the hypocrisy of their words but knows it is futile. Once the masses make up their minds about something, few can persuade them to think otherwise. Jiang Cheng’s reputation has been tainted forever and there’s little they can do about it.

Unfortunately, this issue has also cemented the break between Wei Wuxian and his Sect Leader. There’s nothing that can repair the relationship now. He feels a pang of loss but he had already resigned himself to that when he had given away his Golden Core.

Fortunately, it seems he has some options available.

“Come to Gusu with me,” Lan Zhan says, his tone softer, his voice imploring, “Please.” This time, Wei Wuxian can’t mistake his intent. Lan Zhan’s reaction to the entire mess made one thing very clear to him.

Lan Wangji cares about him.

Isn’t that something? Never in his life did Wei Wuxian think he would be in such a position. He had always assumed Jiang Cheng would be by his side and Lan Wangji would stand against him. But everything is different now.

Wei Wuxian thinks of his childhood home, thinks of a life that has been irrevocably changed, and sinks in those memories for a brief moment. Despite what everyone thinks, there have been some good times. He doesn’t regret the course his life took when he was welcomed to the Lotus Pier by Jiang Fengmian.

He lingers, briefly, on regret,

Then, he shrugs it off and looks into the golden eyes of his future with a grin, “I’ll come to Gusu with you, Lan Zhan.”

And that’s that.

[renaerys]

22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

[lodessa]

I posted 2,726 times in 2022

88 posts created (3%)

2,638 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@underwaterfraulein

@nightlocktime

@reflectingiridescent

@captainelliecomb

@liminal-zone

I tagged 2,686 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#stranger things - 217 posts

#laugh rule - 181 posts

#fandom life - 171 posts

#where is the lie - 116 posts

#cute creatures - 111 posts

#chrissy x eddie - 95 posts

#star trek: picard - 92 posts

#this - 83 posts

#game of thrones - 78 posts

#fanart - 71 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#oh to be 17 again and unable to stop laughing out loud on the bus while reading this book on my way to and from latin class at the junior c

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The Jorleesi Seasonal Fanwork Gift Exchange is back for Fall of 2022!

(Header courtesy of @salzrand)

This exchange is open to all types of fanwork creators (fanfic, fanart, graphics, fanvids, playlists, gifsets, etc). Request formatting has been changed to hopefully make it more friendly to non-writers, so please pay attention to the details of your signup so that everyone can feel included.

If you love Daenerys Targaryen and Jorah Mormont's relationship and you want to give and receive creations highlighting it with other people who feel the same way, join us!

Timeline

Signups will begin Tuesday, July 26th and end on Tuesday, August 2nd

Assignments will go out by Thursday, August 4th.

Submissions are due by the end of Thursday, September 15th

Works will be revealed anonymously starting on Thursday, September 22nd (the Autumnal Equinox)

Authors will be revealed on Thursday, September 29th

Sign Up Now and Spread the Word!

51 notes - Posted July 27, 2022

#4

@phoenixwrites @buffybriefs and my tags on the same post. We’re really in it now, friends.

53 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#3

She wraps her arms around him, hands spread across his back and kisses him harder, moves with a little more urgency, which he returns, mirroring her motions.  

So… what base are we talking about? Max had asked her earlier, with that mischievous smile, clearly more than first. Chrissy hadn’t been able to answer the question, instead finding herself short of words and bright red, which Max had found super amusing.

If he wants, I would-” she realizes.  There would usually be rules to follow, things to consider, but Eddie somehow falls outside of all of that and all she wants is to have him closer, feel him more.

She reaches behind her own back to unhook her bra, and he moves one hand to her hip to help her balance, as the other slides into her hair.

“Don’t you get a headache, wearing your hair up like this all the time?” he laughs (clearly at himself ) as one of his rings gets caught in the base of her ponytail.

“According to my mom it flatters my face shape like this and when I wear it down my face looks fat,” she can’t help giggling, even though it is something that haunts her every time she looks in the mirror.

“That is absurd,” Eddie scoffs in clear disbelief.  “Hold on a minute…”

He carefully frees her hair from its scrunchie and the elastic underneath, running his hands through to let it fall free around her shoulders.

“You look gorgeous,” he tells her, moving one hand back into her hair and staring into her eyes so she can see the sincerity in his.

57 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#2

can we start a discussion about the original hunters trailer and that scene between j/c. like guuys that smile is probably there because kate is excited to kiss robert.

It drives me nuts knowing that they filmed that scene but we will never ever get to see it.

I mean it is bad enough that they decided not to include it in the actual episode. Like, what was the rationale there? Why get to the point of filming it (and using it for the promo) and then make a sharp u-turn?

Was every take they filmed just too sexy for Star Trek?

Did Kate take one look at the footage and persuade them not to air it because of Tim had seen it he would have KNOWN?

Did the producers (who at this point pretty much hated Robert and he hated them) take one look at it it and realize that people were going to be too into this and after showing that kiss they wouldn't just be able to sideline Chakotay? (Despite Berman's asinine claim that nobody wanted to watch two middle aged people kissing two seasons later)

But it has also been like 20 years and that footage has never emerged. No deleted scene inclusion. No behind the scenes. No blooper. No nothing. I would pay good money for that footage, but Paramount will never give it to us and that haunts me.

79 notes - Posted January 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

"I hope you didn't learn that from me," his uncle says, and then when Eddie makes a confused face, he clarifies, "Thinking you should settle for whatever scraps you're offered, that you aren't worth more than that."

"Uncle Wayne..." Eddie doesn't know what to say to that, discovering that even though his uncle is the one person who has ever put him first he might think Eddie doesn't see that.

"I know it is a little 'do as I say, not as I do' but don't you let anyone use you at their convenience and disregard yours."

"Wait... What?"

"That Cunningham girl, she's pretty sure, but you are worth more than-"

"Wait... you know ?!"

"Eddie..." his uncle pauses and sighs, "I recognize I might not be the most hands-on of parental figures, but I do pay some attention to what is going on in your life."

"Chrissy isn't what you think she is," he feels the need to clarify.  "She's..."

He feels himself blushing, thinking about Chrissy, trying to think of a way to say how he feels about her out loud even to his uncle.

"I’m not trying to insult your girl. This isn’t a speech about you deserve better than her, Eddie.  It’s about you knowing that you deserve more from her, from anyone.  That you don’t just have to accept whatever you’re offered and never ask for more.”

“What makes you think I am not getting what I want?”

“So you want to be a shameful secret? Look… I know I’m not the world’s best role model.  I’ve tried to do the best I can by you, but watching me and how I live my life… I worry you have picked up on habits I never meant for you to adopt.”

“You want to know what watching you taught me?” Eddie replies, tenderness for this man who tried to be so much more for a nephew he never asked to have dropped on his doorstep than anyone had ever been for him.  “You taught me that when you care about someone, when you love them, you do whatever you have to in order to give them what they need, what is best for them, even when they don’t ask for it… even when they tell you it isn’t necessary.”

“Eddie…”

“So that’s what I’m doing.  I’m being there for Chrissy, but also I’m protecting her.  The last thing she needs is every day to become a gauntlet of dealing with everyone else’s reactions to us.   And I don’t need her to shout from the rooftops how she feels about me… I don’t need that because of something else I learned from you: actions do speak louder than words.  You didn’t have to tell me you cared about me, trusted me, believed in me.  You have shown me that every day since you took in a scrawny, bruised, smart mouthed, little twelve year old and gave everything you had to take care of me.”

“Oh hell…” His uncle isn’t one for big speeches, and Eddie knows that it took a lot for him even to bring this subject up.  “You’re the best thing that has happened to me, kid.  My life might be small and shabby but having you here, watching you grow into the man you are becoming, seeing the passion you have for your games and your music and everyone around you… you have made it so much brighter.”

86 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

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[a-clockwork-justice]

Everything I Love About Loser Geek Whatever

So, not too long ago, it was the third birthday of Loser Geek Whatever. Yes, I know the single was released on November 30th 2018 and its considered the song’s official birthday, but the 26th July three years ago was the first showing of the 2018 Off-Broadway revival of Be More Chill and the first time Loser Geek Whatever was shown to the world in any capacity. Therefore, I consider that day to be the song’s unoffical birthday and I’ve been waiting to write down everything I love about it so here I am. (This was originally gonna be posted on the 26th July but I can’t make anything concise so it took longer than that).

I’ve gone on and on about what Loser Geek Whatever means to me personally, how a slew of random chance introduce me to it, got me deep into Be More Chill, introduced me to 90% of my current friends, and overall up-ended my whole life, but now it’s time to dissect the song itself and why it’s so great. As much as I adore Loser Geek Whatever, it could’ve easily been any other song that threw me down a rabbit hole and that I could’ve latched onto- no, wait, it couldn’t have been, because Loser Geek Whatever is unique in that way. I did about a year of music at A-Level so I’m gonna delve into some of the technical aspects here too. I’m chronicling this mostly for myself so I am going as deep as I see fit because this song is a treasure hiding yet more treasures. If you happen to love Loser Geek Whatever as much as I do, this’ll be your goldmine.

So, grab a snack my fellow fans, because here’s a comprehensive list of everything to love about Loser Geek Whatever in roughly chronological order. Long post incoming:

The song starts off strong from the first millisecond - I don’t know what instrument(s) they used but just listen to the single version again - that opening chord blares at you like a siren. It calls for your attention, screaming this is incredibly important, and indeed it is. That chord, an F chord, has no indication as to whether it’s major or minor - it’s just the tonic F with its dominant C and another tonic F above it. In other words, it’s unresolved, it hangs in the air. From a narrative standpoint, Jeremy is at a crossroads, torn between giving into the SQUIP or staying loyal to Michael, and the music paints this. It has the same effect on both the single and album versions - I always hold my breath as it holds, it’s the gap in this crucial transition for Jeremy between who he was and him becoming something he isn’t.

To continue the thread of musical painting, the melody line contains the accidental E-flat which doesn’t belong to the key of F major. This once again illustrates Jeremy’s uncertainty, but there’s more - the whole introduction is a slowed-down version of the Apocalypse of the Damned theme from Two Player Game, arguably the point in the show when Michael and Jeremy’s relationship was at its strongest. Jeremy’s recalling everything he had with Michael, but the slowing down of the melody shows hesitancy, along with highlighting the accidental E flat. These latter points of course aren’t unique to Loser Geek Whatever - they’re also in the section of Upgrade that twins with Loser Geek Whatever. I’m just laying out why they work so well. 

I’m glad I waited until after I saw the show in London to finish writing this - I’m something of a Loser Geek Whatever purist, as made clear by my ire at them cutting it in half and tacking the end of Upgrade back on for the London version. I still enjoyed the show in London though and I’m glad I knew about this change ahead of time, because they did change something about the song that I think really worked - they added two notes in the bass to each bar, like heartbeats, which once again signifies Jeremy’s uncertancy and the importance of this major turning point.

It’s been firmly established by this point that Jeremy is a loser and he knows it. He doesn’t want to be a hero, he just wants to survive, but there’s a difference between that and feeling “inconsequential.” Jeremy is basically admitting that, in his eyes, it doesn’t matter to the world or anyone except Michael if he even survives or not. He’s not just a loser, or a geek - he’s a whatever, with no one caring who he is. And he’s felt this way for years - since middle school began. He’s now in his Junior year of high school - that’s five years of being in this state of being unnoticed at best and picked on at worst. He’s “the one who’s left out”. With just one little line, hell, one word, we’re given more layers as to why he so badly wants to change that.

Moving from the first verse to the chorus, we start to see Jeremy’s attitude shift, from being sad to being angry - he’s frustrated, resentful that he’s spent so long in this state (A lot of people have made similar comparisons about Will Roland’s Jeremy as a whole in relation to Will Connolly’s Jeremy and I think this song exemplifies that). He doesn’t deserve to feel this horrible - not now and certainly not for the next two years until he and Michael can be “cool in college.” When you think about it, what options does he really have? He could either give into the SQUIP or reject it and go back to where he was, still miserable and lonely. Yes, he has Michael and Michael is an amazing, kind, loyal best friend, but as many have pointed out, he’s also dismissive of Jeremy’s feelings of inadequacy whether he means to be or not, which only made Jeremy feel more lonely. Should Jeremy just expect to feel better about himself at some point before college? He’s waited for years, why would that happen at any other point?

More layers baby! Second verse, Jeremy rants on about his father’s advice about following his own instincts and how it’s gotten him nowhere he wants to be. Come to think of it, Michael’s advice about staying the same and waiting for their environment to change can be seen as similar - it’s arguably easier for Michael as he has two loving mothers who undoutably give him plenty of positive reinforcement. Meanwhile, Jeremy’s mother has left them, which likely instilled further feelings of not being good enough, and his father has fallen apart to the point where he can’t even put pants on, let alone step up to take care of his son, meaning that Jeremy likely isn’t going to take his advice very seriously, especially after it’s failed him so thoroughly. But to Jeremy, the problem isn’t necessarily the advice itself - it’s that it’s being followed by him. So now he’s going to turn around and put his life and every choice in something else’s hands, even if - no, especially if it goes against his own instincts. It still doesn’t feel quite right, it “feels bizarre”, but it’s getting him somewhere, so it has to be right in the most meaningful capacity, and to Jeremy, the “most meaningful capacity” is any capacity that isn’t his own.

Now the best line - the one about being a “normal, handsome guy”. Let’s get this on the table - Jeremy is trans. Will Roland himself said that he often thinks of the show’s young trans fans when he sings that line. Naturally, societal transphobia plus gender dysphoria would have a pretty catestrophic effect on the self-esteem of any growing teenager, even more so one in Jeremy’s situation for the reasons I’ve just laid out. He’s probably missed out on a lot of things that “normal” guys take for granted, with most girls barely looking in his direction, let alone in any positive manner. Jeremy’s own sexuality aside, it’s mostly society, and the SQUIP by extension, that considers scoring with girls to be a “manly” or masculine activity, and through Brooke treating him as dateable material, Jeremy feels better about fitting into society’s rules of how a man should be and act. This isn’t the only reason he feels good about Brooke finding him attractive, of course, but it’s just another layer that Jeremy sees more value in conforming to how society says he should be rather than in how he actually is.

I know I just said that the last point was about the best line, but honestly, there’s more than one best line in this song. The bridge is where we start to see Jeremy’s language becoming more technologically inclined - “prompt”, “command” and “bandwidth” are all terms used in computing and used to show how Jeremy is likening himself, or his intentions, to a computer, effectivly merging himself and his SQUIP into one entity and Jeremy willingly giving over his own individuality.

And HERE, we get to the kicker. I’ve talked a lot about layers throughout this whole essay, about themes and motifs building on each other. Jeremy is essentially peeling back the layers of his own situation and only finding reason after deeper reason after deeper reason as to why he should follow the SQUIP and not be a loser anymore. Now, he hits the core, the seed, the crux of it all - “The problem has ALWAYS BEEN ME!!” Everything he is, everything that makes Jeremy Heere himself, is and has always been wrong. This line is a gut punch and EVERYONE knows it - the performer always takes a few seconds to let it sink in before continuing.

As an aside, I wanna mention the differences between the single and the album versions of the bridge. The album version starts of quieter after the vocalising of the last chorus, and builds up to the climactic final line, while the single version is loud all the way through but gets even louder and punchier at the end. Both are good, but I personally prefer the single version - the album sounds like Jeremy is broken and desperate and on the verge of tears as he reaches his inevitable but ugly realisation. The single is also desperate, but it’s pleading and all-consuming and a THOUSAND times more powerful, I get chills every time I hear it. (Side note, the London version starts of loud like the single and ends quieter like the album, almost as if Jeremy is reluctant to admit what he truly believes about himself, and it’s easy to see why, it’s a damn harsh condemnation).

“Take a breath and get prepared” - Jeremy sings to both himself and the audience. The first half has been heavy and we need a breather. Yet just before he goes over the brink, he has second thoughts. His conscience, his own voice in his head, breaks through, warning him that his choice will have consequences for other people than himself. People will get hurt - Michael most of all. Not just by Jeremy ditching him; here’s something else - when Jeremy is the “cool dude”, he might end up being a bully to those who are losers just like him, cutting them down just as Rich’s SQUIP made Rich do to him. Who would be the perfect target for Jeremy’s potential future bullying? His former best friend and fellow loser, Michael Mell. It’s pretty damn likely that if the SQUIP hadn’t optic nerve blocked Michael, it would’ve told Jeremy to pick on him, and even though Michael has ostensibly been pretty good at brushing these things off before, the takedowns would hurt a LOT more coming from his former best friend - and we know this because IT ACTUALLY HAPPENS, granted without the SQUIP influencing Jeremy directly (also let’s just clear up that just because the SQUIP wasn’t on doesn’t mean its influence on Jeremy hadn’t disappeared - that’s not how emotional abuse works).

Twelve years of loyal friendship, of borderline unhealthy codependency … can he throw all that away for Christine, a girl he’s thus admired from afar and is only just starting to get to know as a person? Moreover, even if Jeremy gets Christine, what about himself, who he wants to be? He just wants to be something other than himself because he thinks that anything is better but … what? The cool dude, the hero or … whatever. He’ll take anything because he’s that desperate, but what about when he gets it? Will he finally be satisfied? Will it be worth failing his one real friend, an act so scummy that the only way he could possibly stomach it would be to somehow pretend he hadn’t done it?

But none of those questions matter to Jeremy now - he’s fully gaslit into believing that every thought and inclination that comes from himself is wrong and shouldn’t be followed. He needs to sync up with the SQUIP and the rest of the world and mute his own defective inner voice. When you think about it, the relationship between Jeremy and the SQUIP is one of the most intense abusive relationships ever put to fiction - we’ve seen emotional abuse and brainwashing before, but here, Jeremy is literally preventing from THINKING the wrong way because the SQUIP can detect his every thought. See what I mean when I say that doesn’t go away when the SQUIP turns off for a few minutes?!

Throughout all of this is the undercurrent of Jeremy wanting to get better. He’s been trying so hard for so long to have a better life, but nothing has worked. Not listening to his dad, not trying to get closer to Christine through theatre, and certainly not listening to Michael’s advice to wait until college. Why should he resign himself to even more time being miserable with no end in sight? After all, being cool in college isn’t a guarantee. After all he’s been through, it’s his turn to finally be cool, after an eternity of being someone he doesn’t want to be.

Another best line in this song - “I’m Player One.” As mentioned a few times in the show before, like in the Broadway upgrade, Jeremy feels lower even in his friendship with Michael - he’s Player 2 as the more experienced Michael is Player 1. As previously established, Jeremy admits that he’s “not the one who the story’s about.” Now he’s ready to finally take control of his life, be the main character and have good things happen to him, and that means cutting out Michael, the old Player 1. The irony here is that Jeremy is less like Player 1 and more like a video game avatar. In reality, the SQUIP is Player 1, making Jeremy do whatever it demands of him.

More best lines! The slew of insults towards the end serves not just as yet more gut punches for the audience but as a major catharsis for Jeremy - It’s telling that the insults get harsher as his rant goes on, from the “weirdo” to the “weakling freak” to the “failure” to the climactic “please don’t speak”. He’s unloading everything that he’s been carrying over the years, ripping out the bullets that have been embedded in his skin and re-opening all the wounds in the process, but he’s done with the pain and he’ll never ever let himself be hurt like that again, if he follows the SQUIP.

I’ve made a whole post about the significance of the best line “Please Don’t Speak” before so I’ll mostly be repeating a lot of what I said there because it’s been a while since that post and because I want to. Who would’ve said that to Jeremy? Probably not Rich or Chloe, it’s not like them. It had to have come from an adult in a position of authority that could’ve commanded Jeremy not to speak like that - one that apparently did so enough times for him to internalise those words like he did the others. (Even worse if it was more than one adult ...). Out of all of the insults, it’s easy to see how that can easily be the most scarring out of all of them - how would an adult let a child know they’re inadequate? By silencing them. Making it clear that their expression of self not only means nothing, but should be forcibly avoided. Put like that, it makes it much easier to see how and why Jeremy fell under the SQUIP’s influence so easily - telling it was hardly different from authority figures he’s experienced before. In even more sad irony, as Jeremy claims that he’s breaking free and letting go of his past as the “please don’t speak”, he’s just walking right into another, similar trap that he can’t easily escape from. The SQUIP literally vocal cord blocks him during The Play - if that doesn’t say “Please don’t speak,” what does?!

The climax is growing! The music shifts into the relative minor as Jeremy fully gives in to the SQUIP’s evil influence. This is the point of no return, the point where he’s literally being surrounded and overtaken - if you’ve seen this on stage or even just a bootleg, you’ll know what I mean, when the lighting shifts and the circuitry start closing in around him, it’s wonderful. The bass ascends, Jeremy declares once and for all that HE IS NOT THE LOSER, THE GEEK, OR WHATEVER, and he never will be again! As some have pointed out, the sequence of notes on the final ���again” is the same as at the end of Be More Chill Part 2, except the last note is different. In BMC part 2, it goes further down by a minor third, but in Loser Geek Whatever, it rises up to the same note it started with. This foreshadows Jeremy’s fate - that he will eventually overcome the SQUIP and that he still has it in him to do so. Man, let me just point out how amazing that last belt is - it lasts for a full 15 seconds in a really high range and takes a LOT of control to bring it back up to the high B without breaking. This song really was written for Will Roland - his voice can pull it off seamlessly, but other actors and understudies have had to find workarounds. No disrespect to them, it’s a damn hard song and it kicks ass all the way through. Scott Folan apparently had trouble with it too, but on the day I happened to see him, he pulled it off without breaking, so props to him!

Overall, Loser Geek Whatever is my favourite song in Be More Chill and not just for its sentimental value to myself. It’s a genuinely deep, complex piece that earned every second of its six minutes. Loser Geek Whatever is definitely the missing piece the show needed - not only is it Jeremy’s solo song, it’s also his “I Want” song and, in a way, his 11 o’clock number all in one, as he’s having a major epiphany after going on a journey, albeit only half of one. It’s easy to see why Joe Iconis dubbed this his anti-Defying Gravity, but it’s also easy to draw parallels to No Good Deed - how both Jeremy and Elphaba vow to become something that society is forcing upon them rather than what they are, even if that society’s will is objectively worse for them. Loser Geek Whatever deserves a thousand times the recognition it has and I still wonder to this day what the fandom reaction would’ve been if it had been in the original soundtrack.

So, that was it. I’m not sorry it was this long.

TL;DR: Loser Geek Whatever is wonderful and anyone who doesn’t think so is wrong.

[luxekook]

chapter one.

⇥ pairing: jungkook x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, kissing, hickies, drinking, tatted jungkook, nipple piercings

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter One

Fall of Junior Year – 8:57am

I curse every single decision that has brought me to this very moment as I power-walk across campus, sweating under the already blistering sun. Campus in August could easily be compared to a swamp given the amount of unearthly humidity, and I'm pretty sure I currently qualified as the local swamp thing.

The only positive feature in my morning has been the table of free coffee and doughnuts staffed by Student Government. The first day of the fall semester always seems to be accompanied by frantically wide-eyed freshmen and celebratory freebies. However, air conditioning is the only thing I would be celebrating today as I finally reach Tyson Hall – the destination of my 9:00am class.

As I rush to my classroom with one minute to spare, I slump into a seat in the far corner – my preferred location for people-watching out of the large windows and for getting away with doing homework for other classes.

Familiar faces surround me, an unsurprising observation given that this is our mandatory research seminar as psychology majors. I notice my friend Jenni sitting in the opposite corner, eyes glued to her phone screen.

Opening my laptop, I shoot her a text to come sit with me. Her head whips up, black braids moving every which way as she immediately piles up her things and hustles over, ���(y/n), I forgot you were in this seminar! I just switched over from quantitative research because I couldn’t take any more statistics – or Dr. Harding.”

Dr. Harding is the dean of the psychology department and has been teaching here for ages. Feared by most psychology students for his tough grading and intimidating persona, he’s actually a huge softie – something I discovered by going to his office hours and seeing all 85 pictures of his grandchildren hanging throughout the room.

“He’s not that bad, Jen.”

She scoffs, “You would say that because you got an A in statistics like some sort of wizard. Besides, Dr. Newman is so much nicer.”

Jenni has an excellent point. Dr. Newman is the main reason I chose this seminar. As one of the most respected researchers at our university, she’s known for her qualitative studies on gender across cultures. I consider Dr. Newman to be a real badass woman and I lowkey stan her.

I turn to reply, but Dr. Newman begins taking attendance and class begins.

Fifty minutes later, Jenni practically drags me out of the classroom, “I cannot believe she kept us the whole 50 minutes. Is she aware that it’s syllabus week? It’s practically law to just read over the syllabus and then dismiss class. This is outrageous– (y/n), are you even listening?”

“Hmm?” I totally had tuned her out, focusing on the number of students flooding the quad. I had missed this – the rush of students heading to class, the yells of people greeting each other from entirely too far away, the buzz of excitement over potential parties…

“Unbelievable. How did I forget you have this whole weird-ass feminist crush on her?” Jenni forges forth, “It doesn’t matter. What are you doing tonight? You’re going out with us, right? Luna and I want to go to Hannigan’s.”

Since the three of us had all turned 21 over the summer, we finally could legally go to the bars in town. Hannigan’s currently holds the top spot on the list of bars that most of the upperclassman frequent. It’s a popular Irish pub downtown known for its cheap beer and mixed drinks.

It’s also BTS’s unofficial hangout – a fact that makes me slightly uneasy. After learning who the higher-ups are in BTS, I have taken to avoiding them like the plague. It was a relatively easy thing to do since the spring semester tended to be less focused on rushing and recruiting for fraternities and sororities.

But now it’s rush season, and I’m pretty much fucked. There will be no avoiding seeing BTS’s president Kim Namjoon out recruiting with his vice president Min Yoongi and his social chair Jung Hoseok. There will also be no avoiding pledge master Taehyung leading around new BTS pledges like a mother duckling. And don’t even get me started on how Kim Seokjin, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook will be popping up everywhere to advertise the latest BTS bash.

Sighing, I figure that the chances of actually bumping into them at the bar will be slim, given that it will most likely be super crowded and I can easily blend in.

I turn to Jenni as we keep walking towards our next classes, “Yeah, I’ll go to Hannigan’s. Are you going to come over to get ready at our place?”

Luna and I had moved into a cute little off-campus apartment over the summer. As it turned out, it’s cheaper to live off-campus than on-campus if you look hard enough. We also had it pretty good location-wise being just a few short blocks from both campus and downtown.

“Yes!” Jenni replies, slowing to a stop out front of the science building, “I’ll be over around 8 with tequila. I’ll text you later. I’ve got to go to neuro-psych lab now,” she rolls her eyes, “Hopefully we won’t be kept the whole time.”

Waving, we part ways, and I shake my head.

Tequila never leads to anything good.

Hannigan’s – 10:54pm

Fate seems to be on my side for once in my life. As soon as Luna, Jenni and I walk into Hannigan’s, my eyes are drawn to the back table where the BTS usually sits. It’s empty.

It’s practically an unspoken rule that no one else can sit there, and even though the bar is packed with all other tables accounted for, that one remains vacant – and for good reason.

Greek life essentially has a cult following around here. The Greeks provide status for those who are into that whole exclusivity thing. They also provide the best parties because of the size of their houses and because the university will never complain about one of their best sources of revenue.

I didn’t to rush a sorority way back in freshman year because I couldn’t feasibly afford it. The dues were way out of my price range, considering I was already paying for my education on my own. Luna, on the other hand, is in Epsilon Xi Delta (EXID) and consistently makes me and Jenni tag along to different Greek parties with her.

"Come on, bitches! Let's get some drinks," Jenni drags me and Luna through the packed room towards the bar that is already encircled by a crowd of thirsty students.

Tonight’s plan is simple – stick together, have fun, scope out cute seniors. Having already taken some shots before we left (saving that coin), we’re definitely feeling ourselves, flaunting our outfits like we didn’t spend a good hour picking them out earlier.

I had settled on a black t-shirt dress with a checkered flannel tied around the waist and some black Doc Martens. Luna and Jenni had tried to convince me to wear heels with them, but I knew syllabus week was a marathon – not a sprint. My feet would thank me later, and theirs would be crying.

As the bartender slides us our beers, the opening beats of Cocky AF by our badass queen Megan Thee Stallion blast through the speakers dispersed throughout the bar. Turning immediately to each other, we clink our beers together, take a sip, and head to the makeshift dance floor.

We squeeze and push our way through the masses until we reach a spot towards the back where the crowd has thinned out a little more. Within seconds, we’re in motion, hips swaying in time to Megan saying ‘bitch, I look good and you know that’.

Shaking out my hair, I get in the zone and lose count of how many songs we dance to. Eventually, our beers empty and Luna turns to me, “Another?" She accompanies her shouted question with an unnecessary charade of shot-gunning a beer in case I couldn’t hear her. I roll my eyes, laughing while I nod in response.

“Save our spot!” Jenni yells and disappears into the crowd of dancers with Luna towards the bar.

I continue dancing on my own. Swaying my hips, I decide to put my hair up to try to cool off a little in the sweltering bar. The music shifts into a new song, this one slower, more seductive, a favorite of mine – Lost in the Fire featuring The Weeknd.

As Abel’s angelic voice flows over me, a pair of hands slide over my hips from behind me. I start to pull away, but then I notice – the hands are tattooed. And for some reason, that hot little fact makes me relax into the large body behind me.

Those tattooed hands tug me back even more, bringing me flush against him as he falls into time with my movements. God, this guy can dance – a rarity these days.

His body is all hard muscle and heated skin. His mouth is hot against my neck, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting. My skin buzzes. Fuck, I haven’t felt this way since–

Turning my head slightly, I can make out the vague outline him and it confirms my sinking suspicion... He’s a BTS boy.

"Hey, noona," he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing over it as he speaks.

Fuck my life, I think as I shiver involuntarily in response. Spinning to face one of Satan’s henchmen, I toss my ponytail over my shoulder and jut a hip out in both defiance and defense. But really nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Jeon fucking Jungkook, the golden boy of BTS.

He somehow looks like he’s gotten even bigger since the last I saw him playing pong against Taehyung at that party – information that I cannot even comprehend. His left arm is completely tattooed, along with a few smaller ones dotting his hands. I glare at them, blaming those hands for throwing me off.

“Like them?” Jungkook waves his fingers in front of my narrowed eyes, “I got them this summer.” Smirking lazily, Jungkook makes his own perusal of me – taking extra time along the way.

His jaw flexes as his eyes turn molten, “You’re killing me, noona. Tae didn’t mention…” He trails off, swallowing hard.

I follow his gaze. Oh fuck. I had forgotten I decided to forego a regular bra tonight because I wanted to show off my piercings. Just having a thin bralette under my dress, my pierced nipples are definitely noticeable under Jungkook’s heavy stare.

Refusing to give into him, I square my shoulders, “Yeah, I got them this summer, too. But, I don’t see how that’s either your or Taehyung’s business.”

At my words, Jungkook rips his eyes away from my tits to finally meet my own eyes again, “Oh, but it really is our business. Tae said we’d like you and I agree.”

His voice is low and rough, and I swear I can feel it washing over my body, making all of my synapses fire in response.

“We?” I choked out. In full panic mode, I spin and try to leave, but I barely make it a foot away before getting stopped by a now-familiar tattooed hand wrapped around my wrist.

Luckily, a crashing sound echoes from the back table where the other BTS boys must be, and Jungkook lets out a string of curses, “Fucking hell, listen I have to go make sure no one’s hurt, or Joon will kill me. Stay here, okay? I’m not done with you, (y/n).”

His hand rushes up to the nape of my neck, pulling me into him. Our lips fuse together in a brutally hot kiss, his tongue slipping against my bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

And then he’s gone – disappearing rapidly through the fray to manage whatever trouble his frat has gotten into.

I stand there, shaking fingers on my lips wondering what the actual fuck just happened.

“Hey, sorry we took so long! This bitch cut in front of us and I swear she ordered for the entire fucking population of North America—”

Luna smacks Jenni’s arm, cutting her off, “You okay, (y/n)?” Luna peers closer at me, “Holy shit, is that a hickey?  We were only gone for 10 minutes!”

My hand flies to my neck as both Jenni and Luna grab me, dragging me to the slightly quieter back alley of the bar. As they conduct the second Spanish Inquisition, I spill the details on what happened.

After a moment of silence following my explanation, they both start talking at once:

→ Jenni: “Hell yes, girl, go off! Jeon Jungkook is fine as fuck…” → Luna: “(y/f/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n), have you lost your damn mind…”

→ Jenni: “…I’d hit that in a heartbeat. I’m so proud!” → Luna: “…Do you not remember last semester? Are you high? Oh my GOD, did he drug you?!”

“Stop!” I slap a hand over each of their mouths, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you guys are impossible. I am not ‘hitting’ anything, and, no, he did not fucking drug me.”

Sighing, I continue, “It was a lapse in judgement, okay? I remember last semester more than anyone, but he’s just so powerful and I don’t seem to have any common sense around BTS.”

I take my hands away from their mouths and immediately Jenni asks, “Wait, what happened last semester?”

Luna slings an arm around my shoulder, “Come on, let’s go get pizza and a six-pack from Ralph’s. We can go out another night this week.”

“Take-out from Ralph’s?” Jenni’s eyes widen comically, “This must be major tea. Let’s go.”

Instinctively, we clink our beers together for the second time that night and chug the remainder of our bottles in true broke bitch fashion (never leave paid-for beer behind).

With that, we trek back through the door and out of the bar. We finish our night filling in Jenni with our less than savory experience with the infamous BTS fraternity last semester.

But, as I lay in bed for the night, I can’t help but wonder if Jungkook had looked for me that night after I left… Or if he told Taehyung...

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[caxsthetic]

DEMON'S PRAYER — Kita Shinsuke x Reader — Angels&Demons!AU

Episode 1: Last Task

Type: TV Series (Multiple Chapters)

Cast: Kita Shinsuke, Suna Rintarou, Oikawa Tooru, Akaashi Keiji

Storyline: You were just another soul to be bound, another task that he needed to complete. That was what inside his head when the king gave him the mission. Yet now as you hummed giddily in the kitchen, with his shirt engulfed your figure — he started to feel unsure.

Genre: Fantasy, Drama, Mature

Darkness. It was the only thing that predominated in this bottomless pit called hell. The freezing temperature biting the skin without mercy, sending shivers down the spine for those who just arrived. There was no intense fire that burned, such a contrast to how humans portrayed this realm.

Everything that unfolded here was just melancholy. Poor soul dragged forcefully by the reaper, some of them wailing — begging to be released. But some of them just had their head hanging low, accepting the twisted fate that they got themself into.

He could only snicker, at how those humans acted as if they didn't just kill their own kind, acting like bullying and stealing someone's virginity was not a sin. They never thought about any consequences that might come at the afterlife. Or maybe, they just never foreseen what waited for them after their heart stops beating.

His brown orbs glowed in the dark, amused as he looked down to where the reaper twins just got back from earth. Both of them always had some entertaining soul to drag. Usually, they even made fun of the once human, spitting some snide comment about wasting their life.

It was no surprise that one of the twins wished to be born as a human. From the longing look inside his greyish orbs, or how he seemed so harsh over all of the ungrateful sinners — the silver-haired reaper didn't enjoy the chance of life that was given for him.

Kita could not really see the reason why one of the twins seemed to seek a mundane life. Either demon or reaper, they were born as something more. They were gifted, all above humans that were just a tiny goldfish compared to them.

Ah, it was rude for him to call humankind like that. But it was the truth, at least from his point of view. Demons, just like angels — were both creatures created by the supreme. Both had artifice that was a lot higher than humankind.

Angels and demons stay in their own realm to do their jobs, worshipping the supreme deity. Or as for the demons, they were lurking under the shadows, doing all the impossible jobs to take care of all the sinners in this universe.

Kita never cared much about how everyone said the supreme just playing favourites by keeping the angels in heaven, and demons in hell. It was not like he did all the tasks for the omnipresent anyway. As long as he knew he could do anything if he had the king's trust, being good in front of the supreme was at the bottom of his list.

Propping his chin with a hand, his legs dangled at the edge of the palace's rooftop. He just got back from a task a few hours ago. Once again, of course, ended up in success. If his counting was right, he only just needed to finish one more assignment from the king.

Just one more before he could be granted the power to bend the rules as much as he liked, to go anywhere as freely without anything tying him down. Just one more, before hell being told to bow for him.

He really couldn't wait to be the king's right-hand man for all eternity.

"Kita-sama~" He gritted his teeth when his eardrum caught the familiar sing-song voice that belonged to his junior. "Don't ignore me like that, Kita-sama. I know you can hear me." It grew closer and closer to his side, wanting his attention so bad.

He didn't have to turn his face around to recognise who it was. The wind that suddenly occurred due to the flap of wings, causing his straight hair to dishevelled a little.

"What is it now, Suna?"

Suna Rintarou, another demon that clung to him ever since birth. All of the other demons always made fun of him, saying he was too pretty, too delicate to be called a demon. Even with the higher-ups, they were all used to calling him an imposter — an angel in disguise.

But when Kita became the only one who stood for him, guiding his path to be a real demon, all the whispers stopped. Suna was a lot more destructive, sadistic, having no mercy to any soul. His pretty face was just a facade, because behind it all, was a demon who never hesitated to decapitate sinners.

Sometimes, even to some innocent creatures.

"Satan's called." The younger demon stated mindlessly. "Saying about giving you one last order or something, Kita-sama."

Kita released a sigh with how careless his companion acted just now. Manners, something that the dark-haired demon always lacked off. Just because they were creatures which didn't really sound like they would care for such courtesy, they really had the utmost respect toward each other.

"You did not just call the king with his real name." His finger went up to his temple, trying to massage the headache that wanted to come. "How many times do I need to tell you that we address Satan as the king?"

Suna could sense the irritation that dripped on each word being spoken, even though the intonation was flat and filled with no emotion. Yet he knew the superior demon long enough to recognise the stern expression that showed disapproval.

"Sorry." It was such a short apology, but with how he landed his feet and closed his wings, Kita knew that the younger demon really meant it. Even though Suna could be so scary at the point everyone didn't dare to be within one-metre range with him, he always had such a different personality when it came to the brown-eyed demon.

“Just remember it next time.” And no matter how many times the younglings made mistakes, Kita always put a blind eye to it. “Where is the king? Throne room?” He stood up, dusting his clothes delicately even though there was nothing that stained the fabric.

“No, Sa— I mean, the king is in the garden right now.”

Kita raised his eyebrows in confusion. Everytime a demon was given a task, the king would be there in the throne room, wearing his almighty crown made of fire. And for three hundred years, he never thought that the king would even invite him to come to the garden — the place where it was exclusive only for the higher-ups.

“Alright.” Suna smirked when he heard the answer, always so straightforward. “I see that smirk, Suna.” But it changed into a flabbergasted one in an instant.

“Sorry. You just always amused me, Kita-sama.” Brown orbs pierced into his soul, as if telling him to continue his words. “The king just called for you, in his garden that all of us lowlife demons never see with our eyes. Yet you didn’t look afraid or nervous at all.”

“Well, when you said it like that.” Kita chuckled lowly from the honest words, flailing his black wings as he was ready to take off. He pondered a little, never thought much about it before since he only focused on his goal. “We all already met the king anyway, right?” His feet stride to the edge of the roof, turning his face towards the younger demon. “So why should I?”

And without even waiting to see Suna’s response, he let his body fall into the open air graciously. His eyes fluttered close, focusing on how the wind grazed his wings. He remembered everything, the different intensity for each metre he already dived in. It felt heavier every time he got lower and lower. Just a little more, a few more seconds.

His colossal black wings spread to the side in an instant as he turned his body to face the ground, smirking as he felt proud with himself. Just like any other day, he could reach the ground even faster with this method. A dangerous one actually, a unique talent of him that there was no other demon willing to try. Ticking another list for the king to like him even more.

Every demon was busy with their own job and tasks. They had to assign all the sinners with the right punishment, making sure that each of them understood well that hell existed and created for them to reflect. All the cried out, all the weeping soul and painful scream — it was just another sight that was common to happen.

He soared through every level of hell, down into the coldest place where he could even see a puff of air slipped from his mouth when he breathed out. It was mysterious as to why the king had his palace right on top of the mountain, but decided to have the lowest level for his oh-so-called garden.

Kita slowed down as he saw the blue fire that burns on the looming gate of the garden. He was hesitant to land, knowing exactly what kind of feelings that he would get by making contact with the lowest ground. But the king demanded his presence, and it was not proper for him to keep his wings spread in front of the devil itself.

He hissed a little when his bare feet touched the black soil. Every time he took one step forward, a trail of blue hue could be visible from where he stood before. It was fire, right underneath the ground was the scorching blue fire that the temperature was controlled by the king.

Finally standing in front of the gate, he looked down to his palm that had a burning scar from where he was still a little demon. It still haunted him sometimes, the searing sensation when his skin made contact with the blue fire. But he needed to believe the king, wishing that the gate temperature was lowered for him.

His hand pushed the gate so easily, and he couldn’t help but smirk in awe as the fire engulfed his finger. It was as if he touched nothing, as if the fire was just a mist. He was still in starstruck when he walked past the gate, following the trail of blue hue that led him deeper into the garden.

This was the first time he landed in this level with a real purpose. Back then when he was just a naive demon, curious about what lay within the deepest level of hell, he just knew that he despised fire — kinda tragic for a demon wasn’t it? But that was exactly what he felt after he burned his feet and palm, one that he felt the second he landed here around two hundred years ago.

Though right now as his orbs caught all the glimmer on the leaves vein, he forgot about the nightmare that once occurred in his life. There were no other colours in this place except black and blue. Even the plants, it had the exact structure like what he usually found on earth, but it was more extraterrestrial than those green seedlings.

Yet it still captivated him as he walked through the forest-like area; tall trees filled his vision, and with all the blue lines around its veins, making him think that each plant was so much alive. Another living creature, trapped as they could do nothing but grow.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

His eyes widened when the familiar smooth voice rang right on his ear. The way his body jerked slightly, resulting in a chuckle to boom through the entire space he was in right now. “Don’t be so uptight now, Shinsuke. You know I will never do my favourite demon no harm.”

Arose in between the gigantic trees, red eyes pierced into his soul. With a sight of the king, he immediately got down on his knees, lowering his gaze to the ground to show respect. Just like any meeting that they had beforehand though, he would get a chuckle from the king, indicating to him that it was enough, that he didn’t have to bow down.

Kita stood up gracefully, standing still on the same spot as he waited for any kind of information about the next assignment that he needed to fulfil. The king circled around the fountain that was installed in the middle of the space. Instead of water cascading down the black surface, it was fire. Overflowing from the top and down to the lowest pond.

“You must know why I call you here, right? That younglings having quite a big mouth, I know he would have no filter when it came to you.” It must be Suna. He thought. After all, there was no other young demon that was dared enough to talk to him.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then come here, Shinsuke. Take a look at the pond.”

He didn’t hesitate for a second, eager to gather as much information as he needed to. The once blue fire that filled the pond twirled into something else, a vision revealed in front of his eyes. There was a glimmer of earth, tall buildings and people passing by. From just seconds looking through the pond, he already knew where he should go next.

Now he just needed to know who. Which poor soul that he needed to bring to hell? What kind of sin that he needed to make sure the next human did?

Laugh, that was the first thing that he focused on. She looked so warm that it was even sickening for him, how could a human smile and laugh so freely to everyone who greeted her after all. He squinted his eyes, wanting to see her even closer. The way she gazed at everyone was nothing that he could see as a sinner.

There was no evil inside her, she just kept giving and giving. Not even one taking anything from the others. He parted his lips, wanting to ask what was exactly his task would be. But before he could emit a word, the vision fast forward to her slamming an apartment door.

Not even a second after that, she slid down into the floor, burying her head as she sobbed uncontrollably. He was frantic by now, deep down he just wanted to ask what happened to her, why she looked so fragile. Most importantly, why did she have to be dragged into hell?

She’s not even a sinner, she was just someone who needs help. He needed an answer, he had to know now why someone who was already broken, became his last mission? What kind of turmoil that the king wanted to see? Kita couldn’t look away from the pond, eyebrows furrowed as his mind wandered.

And as if the king knew what he was thinking right now, four words whispered to his ear — echoing inside his head as the next assignment.

“Make her kill herself.”

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[twstoric]

joker’s game

200+ Followers Special!

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: deuce spade x m!reader

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: deuce, in all his adorableness, can be quite an air head at times—especially with the mentions of academic studies. so! being the reliable upperclassman and doting boyfriend you are, of course you'll help him study! or… at least that was the original plan...

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘(𝕤): senpai!reader, cum play, top!reader, minor overstimulation, semi-public sex, slight corruption kink..? studying 

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 3.1k

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: *laughing hysterically* we’ve hit 200+ followers in less than two weeks since this blog started iーthank you so much!!! i hope you’re all making great life decisions here i’ll keep doing my best!! thank you for all the kind messages and for enjoying whatever this blog can offer (৹ᵒ̴̶̷᷄́ฅᵒ̴̶̷᷅৹)♡︎

side not: or alternative title ‘reverse uno card’ ৲(  ᵒ ૩ᵕ )৴

You weren’t exactly the best student out there nor were you that much of a good role model—but! it didn’t mean you were a troublemaker..!

Or most times, at least..

You’ve had your moments when you were younger.

Being a sophomore and falling into the category of a certain blue-headed junior’s senpai is so endearing to you let alone becoming his certain “other half” (as you’d like to declare) fills you with so much joy and interest! You can’t even remember what your junior days were like before meeting this reckless child!

So, when exams season rolled by and panic flares in the air as students and delinquents alike try their best to not fail as many classes as there are, you’ve taken it upon yourself to study as much as possible because success is a virtue (and you don’t want to get your head chopped off by your dorm leader, of course..)

Success comes to those who are willing to try—or so the saying goes and your hard work seems to pay off when you’ve received your tests scores and find that you’ve passed your classes with passing grades; bordering on either decent or a thin stretch—no in between. 

At least you’ve passed! 

Though the same can’t be said for your adorable junior—Deuce seems distracted as you eat lunch with him. Small sighs leaving his lips frequent enough that you’ve counted the number of sighs reaching at least eight times since he sat down fifteen minutes ago. 

“Are you okay, Deuce-chan?” You poke his cheek lightly, pressing your own against his shoulder and looking up at him like a puppy. He doesn’t react like you expected him to and it makes you frown; concern seeping in your being as you pull away. “Did something bad happen..?”

Another sigh leaves his lips but much louder than the little ones he did. You pull away, giving him a small smile and taking his gloved hands in yours as Deuce closes his eyes. “I failed my math exam and Magic History…” He shakes his head, sagging towards you and burying his face in your neck. 

You pat his back comfortingly, wrapping him in your arms and caressing the back of his head like a guardian comforting a child. “There, there. I’m sure you did your best,” you reassure, blinking when Deuce seems to stiffen in your hold. Your brows furrow, frowning for a different reason now. 

Pushing him away from you gently, you take note of the way Deuce avoids your eyes when you look at him. Your hands tighten on his shoulders. “You did try your best, right?” 

The younger male flinches at your tone of voice; imaginary sweat building in his hairline. “O- of course I did! I just… um.. I stayed up late studying and ended up falling asleep during the test so I…” he trails, voice growing quiet at the end of his sentence and falling into a mumble you can’t quite make out. That’s… kind of adorable. 

This time, it was your turn to sigh. Deuce blinks, looking at you curiously when you pat his cheeks like a doting old person while nodding your head. “I see, I see, so it’s like that… Of course my Deuce would try his best during studies, wouldn’t he..?” You muse to yourself and Deuce stares at you strangely. Suddenly your expression changes, face brightening as if a sudden thought came to mind. “The good news is..! They allow make-up quizzes to add points to the original score. So as long as you do fine on those then you won’t fail your class!”

The information seems to make Deuce perk in interest. Though a look of worry washes over his face when your previously bright expression turns a tad nervous. You slide your hands back into his, squeezing them as if keeping hold of something. “The bad news is… well, make-up quizzes are normally much harder than the tests so most students do their best at the actual thing and not…” 

Understanding his chance being a near impossible feat, Deuce’s face becomes pale; eyes wide and mouth gaping slightly and you panic to reassure him. “I mean, don’t worry! If it makes you feel better, I don’t mind teaching you a couple of things!” Your mind screams at you that you’ve forgotten most first year materials. “So I think you’ll be fine if you try your best.”

Deuce gives you a small smile, nodding his head. “If it’s not too much trouble then please teach me.” 

You perk, alarms in your head shut down forcefully as you pat Deuce’s cheeks again. “Sure thing, kiddo. Just tell me when you want to get started, yeah?”

Much to your surprise, a look of determination settles on his face and the blue-headed male grabs you by the wrists still near his face. “Please teach me this afternoon! I know we’re not allowed to stay out too late but studying should be a good excuse!”

You shrink under his burst of determination. A multitude of logic rushing in your mind to counter Deuce’s argument—there’s just no way to go around the rules no matter the reason but.. maybe..? Since your dorm leader has been lenient with minor rules and.. good grades are important, right? And you can’t say no to this junior of yours so…

“Sure..” Deuce smiles and you tug your hand away from his to tap his jaw. “But. We’re not staying up late to study and since first years share rooms, we’re studying in the library, kay?”

Deuce blinks, nodding his head slightly but he’s looking at you in confusion. “Um.. are we not allowed to use your room..?” The look of utter skepticism on his face is charming—and it compels you to pat his head. 

“It’s not that we’re not allowed- more like..” An easy grin spreads on your face, leaning closer to Deuce’s face until your noses brush. He flushes at the close proximity but you’re pleased that he doesn’t pull away. “Alone in my room with my cute junior.. I don’t think I’ll be able to focus, you know?” You whisper teasingly, brushing your lips against his as if to taunt him and Deuce pulls away as though you’re hot flame.

“R- right, library it is! I’ll see you later then,” He excuses himself in one breath, gathering his things and hightailing away with red ears. 

A satisfied smile spreads on your face. Looks like you’ll have to look for your old notes first.

ﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌ

The plan was to help Deuce study for his make-up quiz. Get things done as much as possible and as quickly as possible so as to not over exhaust the mind and body. 

You just… never expected Deuce to struggle so much answering a few questions. All you’re able to offer is a comforting rub on his back as Deuce face-plants the table.

“To think it would be this difficult…” he sighs. You pat his back. “And after you’ve explained it to me a lot..” He groans, shoulders slumped dejectedly. 

It was already rather late—you don’t think the library should even still be opened at this hour but perhaps the librarian overlooked your presence when Deuce looked as miserable as he did. 

Or it was just because you’re located in the far corners where not much students go by.

“Do you want me to explain again..?” You offer tentatively, tangling your fingers in his hair and rubbing his head gently to ease a potential headache. You receive a shake of the head. It’s not that the material is heavy (at least you think it’s not), maybe it’s because Deuce has a short attention span..? You’re not sure.

As if a light bulb flickers atop your head, you raise your head in realisation. The idea is so.. indecent but you think you’ve seen this move work in a cheap movie.. a cheap R-rated movie but like..! It won’t hurt to try (you hope).

Leaning close to his ear, Deuce flinches when you blow soft air against his skin but he doesn’t lift his head. “I have a veery special method that might help you, Deuce-chan,” the tone you use is breathy, your hands under the table taking hold of Deuce’s and pulling it to your thigh. “For every question you get right, I’ll reward you~”

Ah.. shit. You’re seriously getting hard because of this. But to your defence, it’s because Deuce’s hand is impossibly close to your crotch so..! Although you were the one who put his hand there…

Shaking away the alarms (again), you press a wet kiss to the exposed skin of Deuce’s neck and he flinches in surprise; his skin burning against your lips. “Um.. Senpai..” He murmurs, turning his head slightly and you feel your cock twitch at the way Deuce is looking at you.

Burning cheeks coloured in red spreads over his face, eyes half-lidded and staring up at you expectantly. His bottom lip trembles; pulled into his mouth when he bites down on the soft flesh. You think you’ll combust right there and then.

“What do you say, Deuce-chan? Let’s both do our best, hm?”

You see the way Deuce’s breath visibly hitches. The latter lifts himself up slowly, grabbing his pen and staring down at the practice questions. “I’ll do my best.”

Despite the arousal burning in your being and the growing strain against your pants, you feel the warm feeling of pride and adoration blossoming in your stomach as Deuce tries again. But watching can’t be enough… “Twenty minutes, Deuce~” You sing-song and Deuce looks at you in alarm. “Real quizzes have time limits, don’t they?” You elaborate and Deuce nods, going back to his questions. 

Distracting yourself from the strain in your pants, you get up to keep your body moving. It’s difficult to walk but you’re not fully hard yet so it’s not as painful as you thought. Now that you’re not tutoring Deuce anymore, it gives you time to really take in how empty the library is. Some lights are already turned off in the opposite wing and it makes you worried if you’re possibly locked in…

You hear Deuce call out your name, lifting his paperwork with a proud smile. “You’re already done?” You question, bewildered. You think it hasn’t even been ten minutes. Deuce nods handing you the paper. He doesn’t look as nervous as previous attempts either… 

You skim over the page, feeling both awe and confusion when you find there’s less mistakes than before. How even… “So you function better when offered a reward…”

Hearing your self-musings, Deuce splutters, chair scraping against the floor in his haste to get up. “Th- that’s not it! I.. since you offered so I.. wanted to do my best..” he sighs, sagging slightly like a dejected puppy. 

You hum, placing the paper away and opening your arms. “I know, I was just kidding~ Now, it’s time for me to keep my end of the deal..” Once his hand makes contact with yours, you yank him closer. 

Deuce stumbles slightly, falling into your chest and his shoulders jump when you crash your lips against his. A small whimper leaves his lips and you snake your arms around his waist to pull him closer. 

The kiss is all things messy; your mouth slanted perfectly against his and tongue licking into his mouth. The growing lack of oxygen is the reason you pull away, Deuce gasping weakly and leaning against you as if he’s lost all his strength.

“You did so good, baby,” you groan, cock growing harder in your pants and you buck your hips against Deuce’s thigh. “Trying your best like this… You deserve the best reward~” 

Your lips find the skin of his neck, sucking cherry blossoms against clean canvas. You maneuver yourselves so that the back of Deuce’s thighs hits the edge of the table. Kicking the chairs away to make room, you hoist the younger male until he’s seated on the hardwood.

“Can you feel how hard I am?” You purr, fingers unbuttoning Deuce’s blazer and moving to his shirt once that was out of the way. Your lips trail kisses down every inch of exposed skin; following an invisible line from Deuce’s neck and down to his stomach. As expected of a Track and Field member, his body is well toned.

“Senpai..” He moans weakly, spreading his legs for you and you kiss the skin above his navel, mouthing the dip to his v-line and trailing just above his pants. Breathy whimpers leaves your boyfriend’s lips, muffled by his hands. His skin prickles with want from every smooth glide of your fingers on his body. Deuce thinks he’ll pass out if you don’t do anything soon.

You unbuckle his pants swiftly, pulling down the hindrance along with his boxers. He’s so painfully hard… Cock flushed and leaking small amounts of precum. You brush your lips against his tip, trailing to his base and sucking the side of his cock. 

As if spurred by his adorable whimpers, you engulf Deuce’s cock in your mouth; licking and sucking every part you can reach. “A- ah! Senpai..!” He wheezes, breath hitching in his throat and hips pulling away on instinct but you wrap your arms around his thighs to keep him close; almost pulling the younger male off the table.

You swallow around his cock excitedly, trailing your hand up his chest and pinching his cute nipple. Deuce bucks into your mouth on instinct, holding your hand pinching his nipple by the wrist but he doesn’t push you away. 

You feel the way Deuce’s things tense, taking the sign of his approaching climax and fucking your mouth on his dick. The tent in your pants is borderline painful and you grunt, pulling away from Deuce’s cock to suck on his tip, using your hand to squeeze his base and frantically tugging your pants down. Multitasking can be so difficult when you’re distracted like this.

Deuce breathes heavily, whispering senpai, senpai, senpai under his breath like a prayer and when your hand grabs hold of his balls, Deuce is coming in your mouth with a violent shudder. You moan, satisfied at the feeling of warm cum filling your mouth and you squeeze your dick to make sure you won’t cum yet. No.. you have to make sure every drop of your cum is fucked inside your pretty junior.

Lifting yourself up, you discard the blue-haired’s pants the rest of the way down, Deuce kicking it away somewhere and spreading his legs for you to press your dick against him. You smirk grabbing hold of the back of Deuce’s head and it’s a bit belated for the latter to realise that your mouth is still full.

The kiss is so fucking dirtyーeven more than beforeーyour mouth prodding his open and sharing cum. Your eyes stay half-lidded to watch his expression; dark eyes glazed with hazy lust.

He moans into your mouth when your dick, impossibly hard, rubs against his hole teasingly. His arms wrap around your neck, tongue licking into your mouth to taste more of himself on you as your dick finally pushes into him.

Deuce pulls away from the kiss, gasping for breath and looking so obscene with saliva connecting your lips and his cum his tongue. Shitーnow you have to fuck him to oblivion. 

And you do.

“Khg-! S- senpai.. So big..” The words leaving Deuce’s lips are incoherent. Mixtures of moans and babbles as he hugs your closer. His cock bounces against his stomach, weak spurts of cum dribbling down his length as you fuck into him like a crazed man. 

He feels so right wrapped around you. Body and soul made just for you and you only.

“So fucking perfect. My perfect junior- perfect boyfriend, just-! A- ah.. shit…” Your lungs are failing you. It feels too fucking good and Deuce’s hold on you is so fucking tight that you don’t mind dying like this. You think you might die like thisーkilled by your boyfriend and you wouldn’t have it any other way-!

A hard thrust and your vision explodes behind your eyelids as you flood Deuce’s insides with cum. Heavy globs filling him up to the brim and Deuce gasps with each heavy spurt inside him. He feels so fucking full.. filled with only you and a lopsided smile stretches his lips. 

You’re definitely not dead yet, fortunately or unfortunately. Deuce’s arms losen enough to allow you to pull away but you don’t; wanting to be in him just a little longer. The flush on Deuce’s skin is still heavy, eyes still glazed over and breath still a little heavy. 

You cup his face, smiling at him with all the adoration you feel for him and pulling his face to yours. You kiss him like he’s made of porcelain; something to be taken with great care and such a contrast to everything leading up to this. 

When you pull away, Deuce leans his forehead against yours, having calmed down a little. “Senpai,” he starts, voice a little hoarse. “Can you.. stay inside me longer..” he’s voice is so quiet that if you weren’t so close, you think you might not have heard him. 

A small gasp leaves Deuce’s lips, flinching in surprise and he looks up at you with wide eyes when feeling your cock twitch inside him. You blush, closing your eyes to avoid his shock and trying to compose yourself. “Sure thing..” You agree, clearing your throat and Deuce hugs you to him.

The two of you stay like that for a while and it’s only when your legs decided they’ve met their daily quota of standing do you lift Deuce off the table. He squawks, clinging to you in panic as you nudge a chair closer to the tabe. A small yelp leaves his lips when you sit down and Deuce is forced to take your cock deeper when gravity plays in. 

He moans softly, blinking and looking down at his stomach as if he can see the way your cock sits snugly inside him. A small grin settles on your lips, moving forward to place your hands on the table and trapping Deuce in between. “Let’s start with method number two now~”

ﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌ

“It’s all thanks to your method!” Deuce’s eyes sparkle as he clutches your hands. A small reddish hue dusts his cheeks in faint colour. You freeze. 

You don’t think it’s a correct reaction to be looking so mortified from such great newsーDeuce passed his make-up quiz which in turn saves his final grades so..!

Panic flares up in your system; blood rushing to your head and all over the place. You think your heart might explode with its erratic beating. “Um, Deuce... I- I really don’t think it’s because of that..” you start but fail to get your message across when the younger male tugs at your blazer, face burning and a small smile on his lips. 

Th- there’s no way you can do this for every exam, right..!?

[creampuffqueen]

Just Like This | Chapter Two

a/n: Hey friends! It's been a hot second, but here's chapter two! This chapter is about a high school football game, but written by someone who has never attended a high school football game as a student (I was always performing haha) I also have no idea how football works and yet wrote Rayla explaining it to Callum! So please forgive any inaccuracies lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3846

Warnings: Dirty jokes/innuendos, language

Read on Ao3

~~~~

Friday, October 5th, 2020

Callum’s house, 6:02 PM

HONK HONK HONK!

Rayla leaned on the horn of her car with a snicker, face splitting into a wide grin when the front door of Callum’s house opened. He was still putting his jacket on, and his mother followed him out, fussing.

“Have fun!” Sarai called as Callum clambered into the passenger seat, face red.

“Bye Mrs. Prince!” Rayla shouted back, waving goodbye as she put the vehicle in drive. Callum just groaned, putting his face in his hands and shaking his head.

“God, my mom’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s sweet,” Rayla assured, “At least you know she cares.”

Callum quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t press at the statement hidden in those words. Instead, he turned his gaze out the window. “This isn’t the way to school, Rayla.”

“Duh, I’m not stupid,” She snarked back, “We have to go pick up Andie and Callisto. I just didn’t tell your mom, because technically I’m only supposed to drive with one other person, but I don’t really care about that rule.”

“Fair enough.” Callum opened up the glovebox, rifling through all the trash to find the CDs stored beneath. Her car was old enough that the radio still used CDs rather than just connecting to a phone. He found one that seemed good, and put it in the player.

At the next red light. Rayla took her eyes off the road to glare at Callum with full force as Taylor Swift’s voice filled her little car. “Where did you even find that?”

Her best friend gave a knowing smirk. “It was actually at the top of the pile. Which is weird, since you supposedly hate Taylor Swift.”

The light turned green, and Rayla was forced to look away, though her ears still burned. “I never said I hated all her music. Just the new stuff.”

“Oh, so you’re a country Taylor fan?”

“If you don’t shut up and change the music before Andromeda gets in this car I swear to god I will throw you onto the concrete.”

Callum responded by nonchalantly tossing his legs onto the dashboard. “What, like we don’t all already know you’re not as badass as you pretend to be? You’ve got a reputation to hold with us?”

“I hate you.”

He dragged a hand through his fluffy brown hair, leaning further back in the seat. “No, you love me.”

Rayla gave him her middle finger, even as her face seemed to suddenly catch fire. If only you knew.

Thankfully, she pulled up outside of Andromeda’s house just in time. The other girl could diffuse some of the sudden tension, and maybe in a few minutes Rayla could look back at Callum without her head going all fuzzy.

“Hellooooo fellow sexy people!” Andromeda crooned as she plopped into the backseat, “How are we all feeling this fine evening?”

Glancing behind him, Callum’s eyes widened at the other girl’s outfit. She was completely decked out in the colors of Katolis High School, red and gold covering her entire body.

“I thought you were just wearing that getup for the first game?”

Andromeda shrugged. “Why not for every game? It’s fun.” She tugged at the red and gold jersey emblazoned with the number eight, then twirled her silvery hair tied into two pigtails with red ribbon.

“Let’s go get Callisto,” Rayla suggested, pulling out of her friend’s driveway.

“Perfect,” Andromeda replied.

As they drove, Rayla continued to speak, “Ground rules: you and Callisto keep your hands to yourselves in my car. I don’t care what you do at the game, but I’m not having any bodily fluids on my nice seats. Am I clear?”

“You and Callum with your ground rules,” The other girl sighed, “But fine. You two clearly think way worse of us than we actually are, though.”

Rayla and Callum shared a grin between them. Andromeda and Callisto were great on their own, but ever since they’d begun dating freshmen year they’d starting getting all handsy. Rayla knew, because Andie shared everything with her, that they hadn’t gone all the way, not yet.

Key word: yet.

And god help her, they were not going to complete their yet in her backseat.

It wasn’t long before they pulled up to Callisto’s house finding them similarly decked out for the Friday night game.

“Well now I’m feeling underdressed,” Callum snorted, glancing at the couple behind him. True to their word, they were keeping a perfectly respectable distance, but everyone knew it wouldn’t last.

“You’re wearing red,” Callisto suggested awkwardly, gesturing to his read scarf. “Just not the right shade.”

“I’ve got extra ribbons for my hair, if you want some, Rayla,” Andromeda offered.

As they pulled into the stadium parking lot, the sun rapidly setting behind them, Rayla turned back to her friend with a grin. “Yes please. You’re so good at hair, Andie.”

The group piled out of the car, Callisto and Andromeda holding hands, as expected. Callum turned to her with a smile and offered his arm. Nudging his side affectionately, Rayla hooked it with her own, desperately trying to keep her face from reddening.

Soon enough they were inside the stadium, and Callum had let go of her arm to pull out his phone and ask where the rest of their friends were. Rayla’s phone buzzed, probably from the group chat, and she opened it up to find where Claudia, Ram, and Skor were sitting.

Claudia: We’re on the far right of the bleachers

Claudia: Kind of near where the band is sitting. We’ve got a really good view close to the top

Ram: Hurrrrry

Andromeda: stfu ram, we’re coming

Ram: If Callisto’s with you then you’ll certainly be coming ;)

Andromeda: I’m going to obliterate your tiny twig ass

Claudia: ANYWAY

Claudia: My friend Nyx from theater class is here, is it okay if she sits with us? Maybe not for the whole game bc she says her friends are coming but just for the start

Their small group began to make their way to the far side of the stadium, where Claudia said they were, while Andromeda still had her nose in her phone. Probably insulting Ram, if Rayla had to guess. The idea of another person staying with them bothered her, if she was honest. They already had their friend group; they didn’t need to add anyone else.

Callum: Yeah sure, it’s fine

With a slight sigh, Rayla followed her friends up the steps of the bleachers until Claudia came into view, standing up and waving. Callum bounded up the stairs, a wide grin on his face. When he reached her, Claudia gave him a quick hug, then released him to reach for Rayla.

“Everyone, this is Nyx!” After hugging everyone, Claudia turned towards her other friend to introduce her. Nyx was sitting casually on the metal seats, and she gave a cheerful wave.

“Hi Nyx,” Everyone seemed to chorus in unison, making the other girl chuckle slightly.

Soon everyone had settled onto the metal bleachers, waiting for the game to begin. Tonight they were going against Neolandia, a longtime rival. The other school had a bit of a reputation for playing dirty, and everyone had resolved to keep a sharp eye out during the game for any instance of foul play.

But every thought about the impending football game flew from Rayla’s head as Callum leaned against her side, his soft hair brushing right below her eyes.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asked, giving a pointed glance to her bare arms.

“I probably will be later,” She admitted, taking in her outfit. Jeans, Converse, and a red and gold t-shirt wouldn’t do much to shield her from the cold when the sun went down.

“Just tell me and I’ll share my jacket,” Callum promised with a good-natured laugh. Rayla’s eyes widened a bit. Was he serious?

She was jolted from her thoughts by a sudden tap on her shoulder. Andromeda sat behind her, several hair ties and various ribbons clutches in her hands.

“Braids or pigtails, Rayla?”

“Er…” Slightly unsure, she took one of the red ribbons from her friend’s hand and twisted it slightly in her own.

“Braids,” Callum finished the sentence for her, “Your hair looks good in braids.”

“It really does look good like that,” Andromeda hummed appreciatively, dragging Rayla to sit closer to her so she could brush her fingers through her silver hair.

With the motion of Andromeda rhythmically combing her hair, Rayla allowed herself to relax in the familiarity of her friends. All around her they talked idly, Claudia’s snort-laugh punctuating sentences, Callum’s voice cracking providing plenty of entertainment.

The buzzer rang to begin the game just as Andromeda tied off the second braid, flicking both of them over Rayla’s shoulders so she could see them better.

“Oh, they’re so pretty!” She leaned back to give Andromeda a hug. “Thanks, Andie.”

“GO SOREN!” Claudia screamed suddenly, causing Rayla to nearly topple backwards into Andromeda’s lap. Everyone around them flinched, and they got a couple dirty looks from the other spectators.

Claudia didn’t seem to care, though. She was standing, cheering ecstatically for the blob moving down below, who must have been Soren. At some point she’d acquired pom-poms. From where, Rayla had no clue.

Callum and Rayla shared a look, neither of them lasting very long before bursting out laughing. If Claudia noticed, she didn’t show it, and kept cheering in the stands for her older brother.

“Woohoo!” Andromeda pumped her fist, though she didn’t stand up and join the junior girl. Instead she scooted over on the metal seat to sit next to Callisto, nearly tossing herself in their lap. Her partner just rolled their eyes and wrapped an arm around Andromeda’s waist.

Claudia’s cheering eventually faded into the background, letting Rayla focus on the field. They were rapidly taking yard lines, but it was only the first quarter. Things could change. Though she sure hoped not; if they were going to lose a game to anyone it had better not be Neolandia.

Then, on the next play, someone tossed the ball high and far, and Rayla was on the edge of her seat, and it was getting closer and closer to the endzone-

“TOUCHDOWN!” Claudia roared, sweet demeanor evaporating in the spirit of the game. “WE GOT A TOUCHDOWN!”

“We got a what?” Callum glanced up from his sketchbook. Both Rayla and Claudia whipped around to glare at him, neither realizing he’d brought it out. In an unspoken agreement, Claudia distracted him with a piercing stare, giving Rayla just the opening she needed to snatch the book from his hands.

“Hey!” The other boy yelped, but it was too late, and Rayla was already sprinting down the steps of the bleachers, sketchbook in hand.

“You’ll get it back after you watch the game!” She shouted from below, sticking her tongue out to blow a raspberry.

“Oh, very mature Rayla!”

“Come watch the game!”

His pout was absolutely adorable, and Rayla flushed at the thought, waving the stolen sketchbook high in the air. “Come watch with me!”

Finally, he relented, though not without a fair amount of complaining and cursing as he traipsed down the bleachers to get to her side.

“You are an evil person.”

She giggled, tucking the book under an arm. “I’m the weirdly sexy villain on a kids’ TV show.”

Callum just sighed. “Not funny.”

“Excuse you!” Rayla shot back, giving a dramatic wail, “I am the funniest person in this entire school!”

He made a weak grab for his sketchbook, but Rayla simply danced out of the way. “Nuh uh, no sir. You are going to watch the game with me.”

“But I don’t even know how football works,” Callum complained, gesturing to the field. The timer was paused, and Katolis was ahead, though not by much. It was going to be a tight game.

“Then I’ll teach you. And you’ll have fun, and learn to enjoy football, and we can all be a big happy friend group and you won’t have your face buried in a sketchbook.”

“For the record, I like having my face buried in a sketchbook-”

“Nonsense!” Rayla exclaimed, “You’re going to have fun. Without this old thing.”

“Alright, alright,” Callum sighed, “I’ll put it away. Can I please have it back?”

Rayla finally relented with a triumphant grin. “Let’s go back up top; you can see way better. Plus we’re near the band so we get to hear their stand tunes up close and personal.”

They arrived back at their seats just as the timer started again, and Rayla began her intense rundown of the inner workings of football. Callum tried to pay attention, but she could tell everything was going right over his head. Finally, she just settled for, “Cheer whenever our side is cheering, and you’ll fit right in.”

In the time it took to explain the first quarter had nearly ended, with Neolandia pulling ahead. Claudia was doing an elaborate pompom routine to rival the cheerleaders down below, even involving Nyx for parts.

“Gimme an S! Gimme an O! Gimme a R-E-N! What does that spell!?”

“Soren!” Nyx finished, and Claudia waved her pompoms triumphantly. Rayla watched them both with slightly piqued interest, flicking her ribbon-braided hair back and forth over her shoulder.

“Rayla, Callum-” She was pulled from her thoughts by Skor’s booming voice as he walked near them. “First quarter is over, we’re going to get some snacks. Come with?”

“I’m starving!” Callum chuckled, “It’s definitely time to stuff my face with junk food.”

“There’s the football game spirit!” Rayla cheered, clapping her friend on the shoulder. “Let’s go consume sugar-rich foods in unhealthily excessive portion sizes!”

The small group left Nyx and Claudia to their pompoms, and Callisto and Andromeda to… whatever it was they were doing. Perhaps trying to fuse their faces together? Whatever it was, it was gross and making everyone want to leave for a minute.

Beneath the bleachers was crowded with students and parents alike. Callum linked one hand with her, offering the other to Ram, attempting to keep from losing their group in the crowd.

It was a struggle to keep her face neutral. All her thoughts suddenly surged away from her head, instead focusing on that single point of contact. Were her hands sweating? God, she hoped they weren’t. She hoped she wasn’t the only one feeling too many emotions to count.

In the line for the snack bar (or, what she hoped was the line, as it was too crowded to properly tell) Callum didn’t meet her eyes, but his grip was firm as he pointed out the menu. Ram and Skor stood nearby, having foregone holding Callum’s other hand. Rayla wasn’t sure if she was happy for it or not.

“If we pool our money we can get a hot dog for everybody,” Skor suggested, “And maybe some popcorn too.”

“Yeah,” Callum agreed, “Let’s get a few popcorns and we can all share in pairs. Like you two, Claudia and Nyx, me and Rayla, and then the two leeches.”

“If they ever come up for air,” Rayla snickered, and she was greeted with Callum’s resounding voice-cracky laugh, and he truly turned to meet her eyes.

“Wanna bet they’ll eat it out of each others’ mouths?”

Rayla pretended to gag, “They’d better not.”

“Oh! Wait! They’ll eat the hot dogs like in the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp!” Ram snickered, and his suggestion was met with varying levels of disgust.

Finally, it was their turn to order. As they all gathered up their food Rayla could hear the buzzer on the field and more cheering from their side, so she hustled her friends back onto the bleachers.

Just in time, too. On the field, the ball flew into the endzone, and the entire Katolis side erupted into cheers. The band started playing a tune, and the cheerleaders began a mini routine.

“THAT’S MY BROTHER!” Claudia screamed over the roaring of the stadium, bouncing so hard Rayla wondered how she hadn’t simply flown away yet. Andromeda was standing on her seat to cheer, Callisto’s arm wrapped her around her waist to keep her steady.

“Gold! And red! We’ll knock ‘em dead!” On the edge of the field, the cheerleaders chanted carrying it throughout the stands. The band kicked into a higher gear, playing the school’s iconic fight song that had everyone clapping to the beat. Out on the field, Rayla could spot Soren’s blond head among the other players, pumping his fists in triumph.

“So I’m assuming we did something good?” Callum shouted over the din, wading through the throng of people to sit back down on their metal seats. One of his hands was still attached to hers, and Rayla had no intentions of letting go any time soon.

“Yes, dummy!” She giggled back, pointing to the scoreboard. They finally were able to reach their seats, and plopped back down while the cheers began to fade. Callum had been holding one of the bags of popcorn, and he placed it between them so they both could share. Ram and Skor passed out the rest of the food, and the group all relaxed once more.

When the game was finally up and running again, Nyx turned away from Claudia’s intense one-woman cheer session to face Rayla and Callum, plopping pieces of popcorn in her mouth. Her eyes, one blue and one amber, honed in on Rayla in such a way that an embarrassed flush crept up her cheeks with little warning.

“You two look cozy,” She remarked with a smirk. Rayla’s face burned hotter, and she resisted the urge to scoot away. Callum blinked in surprise, glancing between Rayla and Nyx.

“Callum’s my best friend,” Rayla replied, though it sounded lame, even to her. “We’ve always been close.”

The other girl just smiled broader. “It’s so cute. At least you guys are way more subtle than those two over there.” She gave a pointed glance behind them, and Rayla didn’t even have to turn to know that Andromeda and Callisto were making out. Again.

“Oh, uh, we���re- we’re not dating…” Callum said awkwardly.

“You’re not?” Nyx blinked up in mock surprise. “I mean, you’re sharing a popcorn, she’s practically in your lap-”

“I am not!” Indignantly, Rayla shot a glare at the other girl.

Nyx just rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, lovebugs.” Reaching for more popcorn, she turned back around in her seat to chat with Claudia some more.

“Well, she’s something,” Callum muttered under his breath, “Going out and assuming things.” He met Rayla’s eyes, then looked away just as quickly, like he hadn’t meant to be heard. “I mean, us dating?”

Rayla’s whole face was on fire. Scratch that, her whole body was on fire. Was she having a panic attack? Is this what a panic attack felt like?

“Crazy, huh?” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. The two teenagers shared an awkward laugh that did nothing to lessen the tension, then went back to eating their popcorn.

Rayla didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

The rest of the game was a blur she hardly remembered, points and scores blending from one to the next. On the outside she was smiling, laughing, cheering. On the inside she was empty.

Before long the last buzzer had rung, and Katolis had won the game by the skin of their teeth. The band played their final tune, and everyone began to vacate the stands.

With the crowd that had come to the game, it took a while to make it back to Rayla’s car. They said their goodbyes to their friends while they walked their separate ways, promising to see them again on Monday.

It was pretty late, nearly 10:30, so the chatter that had filled the car on the way in had lessened now. Andromeda and Callisto were even talking, rather than engaged in a lip-lock. In the passenger seat, Callum once again had his feet up on the dashboard, and was sketching by the light of the stadium floodlights as they waited their turn to leave the parking lot.

When they finally exited, the talking stilled even further. There was no sound in the car save for the radio, and the quiet scratching of pencil lead on paper.

Callisto was dropped off first, Andromeda not too long after. And then it was just Rayla and Callum, alone once again.

She pulled into his driveway and put the car in park, letting it idle while he gathered his things. He reached for the door handle, but something stopped him. He turned back to face her.

“Rayla, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” She echoed, “For what?”

Callum scratched at the back of his neck. “For making things all awkward. You know I’m not good being put on the spot like that, but I just made things worse and I’m sorry.”

“You mean about Nyx?”

“Yeah.”

Rayla shrugged. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It’s her who should be sorry, assuming and being an ass and all that.”

“Still.” Callum glanced down at his sketchbook, still open. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached down and tore out the page. Rayla only had enough time to furrow her eyebrows in confusion - Callum never tore out pages of his sketchbook - before the page was in her hands.

Oh.

It was a picture of her. She was smiling, and her hair was braided with ribbons. It was a picture of her just tonight.

“You’re my best friend, Rayla.” She glanced back up to see Callum’s earnest expression as he spoke. “I don’t wanna let something stupid come between us. Whatever Nyx said doesn’t matter, okay? We know what we are.”

“Yeah,” Rayla said, punctuating the sentence with a half-hearted laugh.

“Okay,” Callum chuckled, “Glad we’re on the same page. We communicate, you know?” His grin was real as he stepped out of the car.

“See you on Monday, Rayla.”

She waited for him to reach his front door, making sure he got inside safely, before she pulled away. She was so exhausted that she drove all the way home nearly in a daze (which would have been way more unsafe if she hadn’t just been driving through a neighborhood).

It wasn’t until she was back at home in her own driveway, car turned off, that everything truly hit.

If he hadn’t been clear before, he was crystal now. He may as well have outright said, ‘I just see you as a friend and I’ll never see you as anything else’. Maybe being so upfront would make things easier, and keep her from clinging to stupid, false hope.

Rayla refused to let herself cry. Don’t cry, not over him. He’s still your friend. Take what you can get.

So she got out of the car, went inside, and went to bed. And maybe she cried, just a little.

No, you love me, he’d said with that adorable little grin of his.

Okay, maybe more than just a little.

~~~~

a/n: AHHHHHH I feel bad for Rayla and I PUT HER THROUGH THIS PAIN. They never even got to share Callum's jacket because Nyx made things awkward :(

Tag List (comment to be added or removed):

@hipster-rapunzel

[romiithebirdie]

Epilogue for the Lost - Chapter 2

Present day.

Inko Midoriya entered her apartment, softly closing the front door behind her after dropping her shopping bags in the hallway. A harsh breeze slapped her bare arms and she shivered, quickly removing her shoes and padding into the living room to close the window that she hadn't realised she'd left open.

Cheerful music rang out in the direction of the kitchen and she immediately followed the sound up towards one of her kitchen worktops. Within seconds, Inko slid her arm across the space and picked up the mobile device with a questioning frown.

UNKNOWN CALLER

Timidly, she pressed the Answer button and slowly put it to her ear;

"Midoriya Residence, may I ask who's calling?"

Her response came from an intangible grunt followed by loud rustling, like the caller was fumbling through plastic liners. She sighed, "Hello?"

"Y-yeah," the audio was fuzzy, almost like they had a bad signal connection from wherever they were calling from. "I'm looking for an Inko Midoriya."

"Speaking."

"I see."

Inko huffed, switching her phone into her other free hand; "So? Is there something you needed or-"

"You were his wife, right?"

And her instinct to slam the phone down at that moment faltered and she immediately was hit with old painful memories.

"E-Excuse me?" her voice was hushed, like she'd been winded by those words alone.

"Your husband. Hisashi Midoriya."

"Who is this?"

"Just somebody who wanted to talk."

"My husband hasn't lived here," since he disappeared, "for a while. I'm sorry if you were trying to reach him, I can't help you."

With that brief explanation, she immediately ended the call and dropped it on the table top. With a stifled gasp, she clamped a hand over her mouth and leaned over one of the kitchen chairs as if she were in pain.

Emotional pain.

She really needed Izuku right now…

UNKNOWN CALLER buzzed across her phone screen for the second time and a shiver ran from the back of her neck all the way down to her spine. Was someone trying to pull a sick prank or something? She had no clue.

Reluctantly, she pressed Answer once again and whispered an anxious, "Hello?"

"You know you cry way too much, right? Same old Inko."

Crying?

She gingerly touched her cheek and immediately felt the wetness. Then it dawned on her what this person had just said and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Who is this?" she repeated, firmer this time while brushing the back of her arm against her face. Somebody had been watching her, the problem was she had no idea where. "Listen," her voice was jittery yet she ignored it, "I don't know how you got my number or where you've seen me but if you don't stop right now, I will be calling the authorities."

"Call them," the voice cackled gruffly on the other side of the line, "besides, who said anything about having seen you? You shouldn't leave your window open when you leave the house."

The window.

It had been open when she'd returned home from her errand.

She lowered the phone from her ear, heart racing against her chest while her ears picked up every tiny sound coming from the floorboards, thumps against the walls from the neighbours and a slow ticking sound coming from the kitchen clock.

The front door was only along the hallway. Almost taunting her with the reflective rays of the sunshine outside.

Tick, tick, tick.

It felt like she was stuck in slow-motion, her legs trembling violently under the assumption there might be an intruder hiding somewhere in her home right now…

"You've gone quiet."

Was that this person's plan? To lure her outside?

"I-I…" Inko choked on her own words.

"Don't you like talking to me?"

No. I really don't.

"I like talking to you."

Inko closed her eyes and bit her lip before shaking her head.

"After all, we're practically family."

                                                .-.-.-.-.

"You serious, Deku?" came the sneer of a young boy with spiky ash-blond hair. Behind him stood two other boys around the same age as they towered over a smaller boy with messy green locks. "You really think a weakling like you can do a fucking thing against the three of us?"

"He was crying, Kacchan!" the green-haired boy pleaded, wiping furiously at his tear-stained cheeks. "You can't keep acting like a bully; it's wrong!"

"The hell did you just say to me?!"

It was the wrong choice of words.

Something Izuku had quickly learned when dealing with Katsuki Bakugou, a boy that used to be his friend. However, when Izuku confided to the other child about the secret that greatly upset his parents, he was met with complete scorn and eventually became the class outcast.

Defenseless Izuku, the freak that saw dead people and nobody wanted to be friends with.

However, Katsuki's bullying tendencies halted after one of his friends, Tsubasa, vanished without a trace. The fiery boy grew more withdrawn and unsure, keeping Izuku at a great distance rather than choosing to torment him.

Katsuki Bakugou eventually moved away from Musutafu to live with his grandparents after a gruesome event that deeply traumatised him;

Early one morning, the remains of Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou were found along the coastal side of Dagobah Beach. The media kept a lot of the details brief due to the case's sheer horrifying nature.

Masaru Bakugou was found with his throat slit and hands cut off while Mitsuki Bakugou was covered in various stab wounds with her tongue removed. The forensics and autopsies had ruled out that they had been dead for quite some time due to the fact that their corpses were spread with heavy decay.

Izuku only remembered fragments of the dreadful news; his father being more reserved while his mother broke down over discovering their demise. From what he remembered, his mother and Auntie Mitsuki had met in Junior High and had remained friends in their adult life.

Despite Katsuki's ill-treatment of him, Izuku still found himself feeling concerned for the louder boy. Sadly, Izuku never got a chance to try and rekindle his friendship with the youngest Bakugou due to him immediately being sent away.

It was something that Izuku still found himself longing for many years later in his teenage years…

"Hi, everybody. My name is Izuku Midoriya and I'm visiting today to talk about things that have affected me since I was very young."

And I'd rather be anywhere else than here right now…

Izuku forced himself to smile, despite the overwhelming feeling of nerves tugging away at his chest that made him feel more like a wooden puppet than an actual person at this point. It was pretty on point, he'd been rehearsing his greeting for a while now anyway...

"Thank you, Midoriya, please take your seat," one of the group therapy leaders smiled, sitting forward while hunched over her thick clipboard in an extremely awkward manner. Izuku bared his teeth in another forced grin before sitting back down on his plastic chair, trying to ignore the burn of embarrassment scorching his freckled cheeks.

While various names chorused amongst each other, Izuku chose to tune out. His emerald green eyes focused completely on a particular spot on the floor tiles as voices blended into one incoherent fuzzy noise. Almost sounding like television static.

Therapy had been his mother's idea. Izuku hadn't been thrilled at the proposition but he knew how much it would mean to her if he tried it out. That was several months ago.

They had attempted medication and counselling in the past too, thus why Izuku was understandably growing more and more tired with it. It was the same old story to him.

While he had grown up seeing things that would be… odd to most, the idea for counselling had nothing to do with the invisible people that clung to him in desperation. They still talked to him, though Izuku often found himself tuning out more nowadays.

Maybe he was just crazy?

That would explain why his mother was always sad and his father cut them off years ago.

Perhaps it was the stress of dealing with a problem child?

Izuku shook his head, chiding himself internally for even daring to consider such a ludicrous possibility;

Both of his parents loved him.

His mother was still grieving her husband's disappearance, it had nothing to do with Izuku's quirky little ability to see dead people…

"Get a grip, Izuku," he muttered to himself.

"Uh, is everything alright over there, young man?" one of the counsellors blinked, everybody's attention solely on the greenette as he flushed in humiliation.

Add talking to yourself to that pile of issues too, Izuku thought miserably to himself while the group therapy session came to end. The second that the adults dismissed the teens, Izuku snatched up his bag and bolted for the exit door like his life depended on it. Luckily, it was a short ride on the bullet train back to the city of Musutafu's Tattooin Station and then a ten minute walk back to his apartment complex.

As he made his way along his neighbourhood street, he noticed a large number of people crowding around the apartment blocks, some people were filming while police were running around and taping the area off to the civilians.

What in the…

While he craned his neck to try and see what was happening, his shoulder bumped against another member of the public and they made a short, restrained grunt as they were pushed to the side.

"S-Sorry, are you-" Izuku froze, emerald orbs meeting an intense crimson that sparked an old feeling of anxiousness and bad nostalgia.

"It's fine," the guy muttered, lowering his head before turning on his heel and striding in the opposite direction of the scene.

That was odd, Izuku frowned, watching the guy disappear amongst the sea of people flocking around the teen while using their phones to record.

Paramedics dressed in green appeared from the stairwell of the apartment complex and rushed across the lawn, pushing a stretcher on wheels. Izuku carefully pushed his way towards the front of the crowd and immediately froze in complete horror.

On the stretcher was his mother.

Thick gauze and towels were drenched in red that could only have been blood and she had an oxygen mask over her face. Izuku's vision suddenly swam and he clung to the nearest stranger, gasping for breath.

Police, paramedics and people were surrounding the entire vicinity. Realisation smacked Izuku as hard as a blunt object striking him across the face.

Holy shit. Who had done this?

His mother was being taken away on a stretcher covered in blood. He honestly didn't understand what was currently happening. Why was this happening?

The last that Izuku saw of his kind, gentle mother before the paramedics closed the ambulance doors were three random letters that had been carved into her arm;

A.F.O

[chaoticminhos]

chapped lips

pairing: lee felix x reader

genre: angst. fluff?? bad boy!felix au

warnings: felix gets into fights like a dummy

a/n: requested by anon💞 i’m not super proud of this but i spent like a week trying to get it to a point i’m proud of and i couldn’t, i’m sorry if it isn’t the best, i hope you enjoy it anyway😊 also the title is gross i know i just can’t think of anything else to title it dhdjsksj im sOrRy

~~~~~

lee felix. lee fucking felix, a.k.a the bane of your fucking existence. who did he think he was, sauntering into your school the first day of junior year, wearing a leather jacket and a loose white shirt acting like he owned the place, despite it being his first day at his new school?

the answer is the fucking king, apparently.

disregarding that no one had ever seen him in school, let alone in town before, every girl was throwing themselves at him by the time the first bell even rang. they were babbling about how mysterious and hot he was, practically drooling. you, on the other hand, opted for keeping your saliva in your mouth and dignity in tact, rolling your eyes and telling yourself that he was just another flirt, an unfairly hot and charming fuckboy. as the year progressed, you proved yourself correct.

~

about a month after classes began, felix took an interest in you. you had been practically invisible to him before, making a point to stay away from him and his already bad reputation, but you could only keep it up for so long.

you were in your 3rd hour history class, one of the (unfortunately) many classes you shared with felix when he first noticed you. generally, you were pretty well behaved, but this teacher always got on your nerves.

your friend raised her hand, “Mr. Kim, may i use the restroom?”

“you had a chance to go before class started, sit down.”

“sir, it’s an emergency-“

“i said no.”

he obviously had no regard for basic female hygiene, and it was pissing you off. you tried to speak under your breath, but your seat was right in front of his desk.

“oh my god, you’re acting like you want her to bleed all over your seats.”

when the words left your mouth, you thought nothing of it. that was, until the students in the seats surrounding you, which included felix, and the teachers eyes snapped towards you.

“excuse me, ms. y/n?” your teacher asked you in a warning tone.

you looked up at him with wide eyes upon realizing he had heard you, and you felt your stomach drop. you rarely got in trouble. you spoke quickly.

“i-i’m sorry sir.”

“i’ll let it go, since you’re always so well behaved, but i don’t want to hear another comment like that coming from your mouth, got it?”

you nodded hastily. you hated being in trouble, which is why you always listened to what teachers said and followed rules.

when the bell rang, you quickly packed your things and made your way to the door, eager to get out of the classroom and away from your least favorite teacher, but right when you were out the door, you were stopped by your least favorite student. lee felix.

his hand darted out to your wrist, nearly making you drop your books.

“didn’t know you could be so feisty, darling.”

your eyes snapped to his, knowing who was speaking before even seeing him, his voice was unmistakable. you tried to pull your wrist from his grip, but he didn’t budge.

“get your hands off me, felix.”

his eyebrows raised and a small smirk appeared on his face, “oh, so you know who i am?”

“kinda hard not to when teachers are yelling at you every 5 minutes and your name is called over the loud speaker every other day for getting into a fight.”

“woah, good girl, where was this attitude when Kim was scolding you?”

your felt your stomach flip at the name he chose. you knew he meant it to be teasing, but it made your face flush red, and felix noticed. using his grip on your wrist, he pulled you closer to him, so your faces were only inches apart.

“oh, you got a thing for being praised?”

he chuckled as your face turned even more red, an amused smirk on his lips the entire time. satisfied with flustering you, he released your wrist from his hand and stepped away, immediately being greeted by a hoard of girls as well as a few of his 8 friends, the other resident bad boys of your school.

“i’ll see you around, princess.”

you felt butterflies in your tummy again at his choice of words, and you cursed yourself for being flustered.

there way no way you had a crush on lee felix.

~

okay, maybe you had a little crush on lee felix.

throughout the next few months, interactions like this continued to occur, him bothering you and you pretending you didn’t love the way he touched you or the pet names he called you.

don’t get it wrong, you still thought he was a stuck up asshole, but you couldn’t deny that he was charming, and he wasn’t bad to look at either. in fact, he was very, very nice to look at.

you felt a tap on your shoulder in the middle of class, the same class that he had first noticed you in. you shrugged his hand off of you, only for it to return a few seconds later. when you went to shove his hand off of you again, he whined.

“y/n~”

you continued to ignore him.

“princess?”

again, no response.

“baby, why are you ignoring me?”

you took a deep breath, turning towards him, “felix, i’m trying to learn, what do you want?”

he smiled upon getting your attention, folding his hands in his lap. you couldn’t help but notice his busted knuckles, hadn’t they just healed from his last fight?

“you.”

you cursed your cheeks for turning red and you turned back towards the board.

“stop it.”

“what?” the smile was evident in his voice, you didn’t even have to look at him to know he had a stupid grin on his face, “we both know you like it when i talk to you like this.”

your head snapped back towards him, “says who, lee felix? if it were up to me, you’d shut your mouth and keep it closed.”

your snappy remarks didn’t faze him anymore, he had gotten used to it after months of pestering you. he snapped right back.

“why don’t you make me shut up, then?”

you clenched your jaw, turning towards the board again, but you tightly crossed your legs, and it did not go unnoticed.

~

the last bell had rang and you were packing your bag and waiting for the crowd to die down before you left. as you finished and made your way out the front door, you bumped into somebody, causing you to be shoved into the door frame and drop the books that you were carrying, the ones you couldn’t fit in your bag. you winced, hand moving to massage where your shoulder had collided with the metal door frame.

“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry.”

you looked up to the source of the voice with a small smile.

“it’s no problem, seonghwa, really.”

seonghwa was on student council with you, so you knew each other well enough to make encounters like this not awkward, but you didn’t really know him.

he knelt down to help pick up your books at the same time you did, causing your heads to collide.

you both stumbled back, holding your heads. he gave you an apologetic look and began to say sorry yet again, but you burst into laughter.

“jeez seonghwa, maybe you should have caution tape surrounding you.”

he laughed along with you, moving to pick up your books before offering a hand to help you up.

you gave him a small ‘thanks’ before heading to leave, but he stopped you.

“hey, y/n, actually, are you doing anything? maybe i could take you for coffee or something.” he paused. “you know, to say sorry.”

you smiled at him, “it’s really alright, you don’t have to-“

he chuckled, “i want to, come on. let’s go.”

he led you to his car, opening the trunk and helping you put your things in it. as he went to open the passenger side door for you, a deep voice interrupted the action.

“hey princess!”

you rolled your eyes, turning towards the source of the noise, which happened to be felix and about half of the crowd of friends he usually hung around.

“what, felix?” you sighed.

“aw, come on, baby! aren’t you excited to see me?”

he and his crew walked up to you and seonghwa, so you were no longer shouting across the parking lot.

felix reached out to ruffle your hair before looking seonghwa up and down and asking you, “who’s this?”

“none of your business, felix.”

“someone’s grumpy today, why-“ felix began, only to be interrupted by seonghwa. he stuck his hand out to felix.

“i’m park seonghwa, nice to meet you.”

felix took his hand with the raise of an eyebrow, not bothering to introduce himself in reply, only going back to focus on you.

“he giving you a ride home?”

before you could reply, seonghwa spoke up.

“we actually have a date, so if you don’t mind, we’re gonna get going.”

felix’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. a date? he quickly composed himself.

“in that case,” he leaned in close to you, “have fun on your date, good girl.”

you pushed him away from you, hurrying into seonghwa’s car and pulling the door shut. you looked out the window just in time to see felix say something to seonghwa with a glare before his friends ushered him away with one last glance at you, but you couldn’t hear what he said from inside the car.

“i’m sorry for him.” you apologized to seonghwa on your way to the café.

“no need, it’s not your fault. and hey, i’m sorry for saying it was a date, i thought it would make him back off. just seemed to make him more adamant, though.” he said with a chuckle.

you sighed, “it’s fine. and yeah, he’s pretty persistent.”

the rest of the ride to the cafe was quiet.

you ordered your drink and went to pull out your wallet, but seonghwa placed a hand over yours, handing the cashier his wallet.

“i’ve got both.”

you pouted, “you didn’t have to pay.”

he laughed at your pout, “i asked you to come, of course i have to pay.”

you two chatted while you drank your coffee, and you had a good time. you were surprised you two hadn’t hung out before, your personalities really clicked.

he dropped you off at your house when you finished, going as far as to comment on how close your house was to the school, and offering to give you rides to and from for the rest of the year.

“oh no, i really enjoy walking, actually, but thank you!”

he nodded, “just know you’ve always got a ride if it’s raining or anything.”

~

the next day at school, felix didn’t come to his morning classes, not that you were checking or anything. by lunch period, everyone knew that the boy wasn’t there. it wasn’t uncommon for felix to skip classes, but he didn’t usually skip more than a few a day, which is why it was odd that he had missed the entire morning. adding onto that, the 8 other boys he hung around were all at school, which meant no one was skipping with him.

lunch period was louder than usual, everyone trying to figure out where felix was. god forbid his fan girls go a full day without seeing him, right?

you left lunch early, the extra noise in the room was giving you a headache, and headed to your 5th hour class. despite felix missing the morning classes you had with him, you walked to your class (which he was also in) hoping he would show up. to your surprise, he was already there.

more to your surprise, he didn’t greet you when you entered the room. it would have been the perfect opportunity to mess with you; the teacher wasn’t in the room yet, but still he chose to keep silent.

it oddly bugged you that he didn’t say hi to you, even if he would have said it in some annoying way. he barely even looked at you. deciding he wasn’t going to talk, you spoke first.

it surprised you, you had never initiated a conversation with the boy, partly because he was annoying and partly because your heart sped up whenever you two interacted. you felt the need to speak up this time though.

the first thing you noticed was that his knuckles were busted more than usual, and for once, it looked like he might have lost a fight. he had a big purple bruise on one side of his face and a busted lip. while looking at the cut on his lip, obviously inspecting the wound and not just looking at his lips because they were pretty, you noticed that they were really chapped. you hoped he was drinking enough water.

you sat in one of the seats beside him in the very back row.

“felix?” you began softly.

no reply.

you sighed and began to dig through your bag. you knew you had a chapstick somewhere in there. when you found it, you put your hand on his shoulder. he still hadn’t even looked at you again, or at least, he hadn’t looked at you when you were also looking at him.

“felix, your lips are chapped, take this.”

you held the chapstick in front of his face, right above his hands, which were crossed on top of his desk.

without turning his head, his eyes snapped to meet yours quickly before reaching to take the chapstick and leaning back in his chair. he seemed more relaxed than when you had first walked into the room.

instead of applying the chapstick, he fiddled with it in his hands, eyes focused on it with a blank look on his face.

you frowned.

“felix, what happened?”

finally, you got a reply. just not the sort of reply you wanted.

“like you care.”

you were taken aback. he never spoke to you like this.

“i do care! i wouldn’t be sitting here trying to help you if i didn’t care.”

he scoffed.

“felix, i’m serious!” you didn’t know why him denying that you cared about him upset you so much, but you felt your eyes started to well up. “you were gone all morning and when you finally come back you’re all busted up, and you’re not even letting me try to help you!”

“i wasn’t gone this morning, y/n.”

“what?”

“i was here, in the office. didn’t you notice someone else missing, too?”

you furrowed your eyebrows.

he stared at you for a while before a small smile appeared on his face.

“you didn’t even notice seonghwa wasn’t here, did you?”

you cocked your head to the side, shaking your head. now that he mentioned it, you hadn’t seen seonghwa all day either.

“no, i guess not.”

“yeah, well he was in the office with me.”

“why?”

“you’re dense, you know that?”

for some reason, your mood was lifted now that he was smiling and teasing you again.

“we got into a fight, y/n.”

“you and seonghwa? but why, you don’t even know each other?”

“we both know you.”

and with that, the bell rang and the teacher walked into the classroom, followed by students a few minutes later.

felix didn’t even once try to get your attention for the rest of that period

school ended, and you were still thinking of felix. any time you passed him in the hallway or saw him in class, he didn’t seem like himself. beyond that, his words kept replaying in your head, “like you care,” “we both know you.”

it bothered you that he didn’t think you cared about him, and it bothered you that he and seonghwa had gotten into a fight, by the sound of it, because of you.

you hadn’t had a chance to ask seonghwa about it, since you didn’t have any afternoon classes with him.

you exited your last classroom and headed towards your locker. before you could reach it, from across the hallway, you saw felix leaned up against it. you smiled, glad he wasn’t ignoring you, but your smile dropped when seonghwa joined him with an angry look on his face.

the hallways were still crowded, so you couldn’t hear what was being said, but it looked like there was about to be another fight. not wanting any more drama, you rushed to your locker and stepped between the two.

as you rushed up, you heard part of the conversation before they stopped talking when you showed up.

“seriously, lee. can’t you see you’re not good for her?”

“i’m trying to be!”

“that’s not good enough!”

you carefully placed your bag and books down on the floor, stepping out from in between them. you finally got a good look as seonghwa, and oh boy, had you been wrong. felix definitely won this fight, too. he had a black eye one one side and a bruised cheek on the other, along with a bandage across his nose.

“what’s going on?”

seonghwa spoke first, “y/n, please tell felix-“

you interrupted him in a panicked voice, eyes on felix.

“oh my god, felix, your lip is bleeding again, i told you to use my chapstick!” you reached your hand up to his lip, running your finger over the rough skin. he brought his hand up and lightly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand from his face, his eyes moving from yours to seonghwa’s.

seonghwa was looking at you with frustration, “jesus christ, y/n, really? you’re taking care of him?”

you gave him a confused look, “why shouldn’t i be? he’s bleeding and-“

“no,” felix released your wrist and took a step back, “he’s right, y/n.”

seonghwa raised his eyebrows at you, as if to say, “see? even he admits he’s bad for you!” but you turned back to felix, about to speak when seonghwa picked up your things and grabbed your arm to lead you away.

you pulled against his grip, “seonghwa, stop it.”

he had grabbed the same arm that you had banged into the door frame the night before, and him pulling on your arm made the bruise hurt even worst than it already did.

“y/n.” he spoke sternly, “let’s go.”

you pulled against him again, “seonghwa, please stop, you’re hurting me.”

his grip only tightened, “i said let’s go.”

your free hand went up to grab your hurt shoulder, “seonghwa, my arm still hurts from yesterday-“

with one last rough pull from seonghwa, you stumbled away from felix with a yelp. that’s when felix decided it was too much, and his hand found its way around seonghwa’s wrist, the one that was holding onto you.

“she said you’re hurting her, stop.”

seonghwa released your arm and immediately swung at felix with that same hand, knocking him straight in the jaw. felix stumbled backwards, but he quickly regained composure, swinging back and hitting seonghwa in the nose, which from the bandage he had on, you assumed to be broken. his nose started streaming with blood, and before anyone could throw another hit, the principle came rushing over, yelling at both boys and you to follow him to his office.

seonghwa, who was still holding your bag, no longer your books, as he had dropped them when he first went to hit felix, swung your bag off of his shoulder and dropped it roughly on the ground with a glare towards you.

you went to pick up your bag and collect your books, but felix got to it before you, swinging both your bag and his over his shoulders. you tried to argue with him, say that he was hurt and you could carry your own bag, but he wouldn’t listen.

the principle made all three of you sit in front of his desk, you in between the two boys.

“two fights in one day? really, boys? you know bet-“

“sir, i don’t know about the first fight, but felix did not start this fight, he was only defending me.”

“ms. y/n, do not interrupt me again or-“

without realizing it, your hand found it’s way to felix’s.

“no, sir, really, it’s not fair for felix to get into trouble!” you started to tear up, “check the cameras or ask anyone around us, really! he didn’t start it!”

seonghwa scoffed beside you.

“you’re still defending him?”

“she’s defending me because i’m not the one who put hands on her, park!” felix answered for you.

“i wouldn’t have had to if-“

“boys!” your principles voice echoed through his office.

“i’ll review the footage and we’ll talk again tomorrow. as of now, the two of you need to get cleaned up. y/n, you’ve had a long afternoon, go get some rest.”

seonghwa left immediately, storming out the door without saying goodbye to anyone. you, however, decided to stay back and help felix clean up.

he sat on the counter in one of the school bathrooms with you in between his legs, focused on cleaning him up. he said he could clean his wounds himself, but you insisted. as you were wiping the blood of your cheek, you softly spoke.

“felix, why did you two fight in the first place?”

he took a deep breath, shifting his eyes to lock with yours.

“i saw him this morning and i asked how serious you two were, with you going on a date and all. when he said not very, i asked him to stay away from you as anything more than friends. i told him you already had someone going after you and... he hit me. said i wasn’t good enough for you, said you deserve more than me.”

your face flushed at felix’s words, was he confessing to you?

“he told me to stay away from you all together, even as friends. at first i thought he was right, that you’re too good for me, but if i need to be better to be good enough for you, i will.”

“what do you mean, felix?”

“i like you, y/n. a lot. and i know i have a really shitty way of showing it, but i promise i’ll try my best to be what you deserve, if you’ll give me a chance.”

“felix, you saved me from him when he was hurting me, that’s not a shitty way of showing you care.”

a small smiled played at his lips, “who knew the good girl could swear?”

you hit his shoulder, “shut up or i’ll reject you.”

he laughed, a big smile on his face, but it quickly fell. he reached a hand up and gently pulled your jacket off of your shoulder, turning you slightly to see the bruise.

“y/n?” he began, “did he do this to you?”

your eyebrows furrowed, “yeah, he bumped into me and i fell.”

“but it wasn’t on purpose?”

“no.”

felix let out a breath you hadn’t realized he had been holding in, and he suddenly pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you.

“i won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”

~

the next day, you walked into first hour to see felix sitting in his usual spot, and for the first time, you smiled and made your way over to him. he greeted you with a big smile.

halfway through class, your names along with seonghwa’s were announced over the loud speaker to come to the office. felix stood first, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the room. neither of you missed the whispers that began when he took your hand.

the principle called the three of you into his office once again.

“as promised, i have your consequences ready. firstly, i rewatched the camera footage of both fights, and in both, seonghwa, you threw the first hit. because of this, i have to give you 2 weeks of suspension, beginning right after this meeting. for you, felix, despite your record, it’s clear you didn’t intend for either of these fights to happen, and it’s clear that the second one was in defense of someone else. however, you did hit back. detention every day after school for a week. and you, ms. y/n, this is your first incident and you weren’t involved with the violence, so i’ll let you off with a warning. you two,” he gestured to you and felix, “back to class. and you,” he pointed at seonghwa, “your parents will be here to pick you up soon.”

you and felix stood and headed back to class, but about halfway there, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a corner of the hallway where he knew there were no cameras.

you giggled, “what are you doing.”

one arm on your waist, he pulled the same chapstick you’d given to him earlier out of his pocket and applied it, a big smile on his face.

“i cant have chapped lips for out first kiss, now can i, good girl?”

[headfulloffantasies]

Consequences

The title of Mand’alore catches up with Din Djarin.

Part 4 of Clones and Kings

Read on Ao3

“Do you think all of Master Yoda’s species have Jetii powers, or are we just lucky enough to find another one?” Wolffe asked Rex.

They sat side by side on the ramp of Mando’s ship drinking in the first rays of sun Rex had seen since Jakku. The Mandalorian had left them to guard the ship at the landing dock while he took Not-So-Yoda to pick up supplies at the market. Five credits said Mando would come back with a new toy for the kid.

“I don’t know. The kid still gives me this look sometimes like he knows what I’m thinking,” Rex grumbled.

“That’s not hard, vod,” Wolffe joked. “You have a terrible poker face.”

Rex shoved his brother’s shoulder. He missed this. The camaraderie between clones. It had been far too long.

“Well?” Rex asked Wolffe. “What will you do now?”

Wolffe turned his mechanical eye towards Rex. “I want to rejoin our brothers. Do you know if any others live?”

Rex shook his head. “You’re the only vod I’ve found since the end of the war.”

“And the Jedi?” Wolffe asked.

“The baby or Luke Skywalker?” Rex asked.

“I was thinking Commander Tano,” Wolffe growled. “I’d like to serve under someone from the old days.”

Rex closed his eyes and basked in the sun. “I’m here on Commander Tano’s orders. She’s doing shadow ops these days.”

Wolffe scoffed. “You don’t look very undercover, brother. Babysitting doesn’t suit a Captain.”

“I’m doing my best,” Rex answered. “Commander Tano said watch the Mandalorian and the foundling. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Speak of the devil,” Wolffe nudged Rex.

Mando came lumbering out of the crowded port towards them. He had two bursting satchels slung over his shoulders and Yoda the Younger riding his hip carrier.

Rex stood and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Hold him,” Mando dumped mini-Yoda in Wolffe’s lap. Wolffe froze. Mando ignored the clone’s obvious discomfort. Rex smirked. Served Wolffe right for teasing Rex about the kid.

“Let me help,” Rex offered Mando. He took one of the satchels off Mando’s shoulder.

“Din Djarin.”

Mando went stiff as a board. His hand drifted to his blaster. Rex craned his neck to see over Mando’s shoulder.

“Kriff,” Rex spat. He unfortunately recognised the red-haired woman marching towards them with her blue helmet under her arm.

“Is it too late to run?” Mando asked.

“Pretty sure she’s seen you,” Rex answered. “You could try shooting.”

“Din Djarin,” Bo Katan repeated. She came to a halt with a respectable space between them. Then she dropped to one knee. “All hail the Mand’alor.”

Rex gaped. Mando still didn’t turn around. His shoulders had come up around his helmet.

Wolffe made a choked noise. “You’re the Mand’alor?”

“Mand’alor,” Bo Katan said to Mando’s back. “It’s time to return to your duties as ruler.”

“I am doing my duty,” Mando turned sharply to look down at her. “You and the other advisors were informed of my intentions to collect my son while the Jedi is busy.”

Bo Katan scowled. “Yes, but we assumed you’d bring the child home with you. Not gallivant around the galaxy reliving your bounty hunting glory days again.”

Mando went silent and still. Rex took a half step back. Mando radiated violence from every line of his armour.

“Inside. Now,” Mando finally ground out.  

Bo Katan straightened up and followed on Mando’s heels up the ramp into the ship. Rex trailed behind. He glanced back at Wolffe still sitting in dazed confusion. Yoda in Training took the opportunity to climb up Wolffe’s arm and sit on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Rex snapped. “Bring the kid. They might reconsider tearing each other to pieces in front of a child.”

Mando stomped into the cargo space where the carbonite freezer blinked and the frozen bounty sat in its slab. Rex hoped Mando’s helmet was heat shielded from the death-rays Bo Katan beamed at the back of his head. Mando grabbed the bounty and spun the slab around so Bo Katan could see its face.

“Do you know him?” Mando asked.

Bo Katan barely flicked her eyes disdainfully over the frozen Devorian. “No. Should I?”

“This man,” Mando explained. “Was selling beskar. He claimed he got it off a Mandalorian he killed.”

Rex shuddered.

Bo Katan crossed her arms. “So, you avenged a brother. That doesn’t-.”

Mando cut her off. “The galaxy’s underworld needs to learn that beskar belongs to the Mandalorians. I intend to make the life of anyone selling beskar unprofitable. Once they realise the steep punishment for trading our heritage, no one will want to buy beskar. Then the Mand’alor can sweep in and claim the remnants to give back to our people.”

Bo Katan chewed on this. From her pinched eyebrows she clearly thought it foolhardy.

Rex found himself staring at Mando in a new light. The man had honour in spades. And patience and ruthlessness to carry out his ambitious plan.

“That will take time,” Bo Katan finally said.

“Yes,” Mando inclined his head.  

Bo Katan visibly struggled with this concept. “Fine.” She bit out. “I assume you have your next target.”

“Yes.”

Bo Katan lifted her chin. “Then I will accompany you.”

“Absolutely not,” Mando snapped.

Bo Katan didn’t back down. They locked in an intense stare. It didn’t really seem fair when Mando had his helmet to shield his face. Rex read the resolution in the line of his shoulders while Bo Katan grit her teeth.

“You may accompany us on your own ship,” Mando relented, much to Rex’s surprise.

“How gracious of you,” Bo Katan bowed her head. Mando escorted her off the ship.

Rex watched them go by in bewilderment. He caught Wolffe’s eye. Wolffe looked twice as flabbergasted as Rex. Good. Rex was the superior officer. He shouldn’t experience the same surprise as someone under his command.

Itty bitty Yoda saw a chance with Wolffe distracted and wiggled out of his grip. Rex dove and caught him before the kid could make another of his famous escape attempts.

Mando came back with defeat dragging down his shoulders.

“Why’d you let her tag along?” Rex blurted out.

Mando took Yoda Junior from Rex’s hands. “She’d only follow us anyways. At least she’s not trying to kill me for the Darksaber this time.”

“You’re the Mand’alor,” Wollfe gasped. Mando refused to respond. He tucked his child into his arms and swept up into the cockpit and sealed the door.

Wolffe pointed up the ladder. “He’s the Mand’alor.”

Rex dropped a hand on Wolffe’s shoulder. “Steady. Take a breath.”

Wolffe’s hands came up and gripped either side of Rex’s face. “Holy kriff, that madman is the Mand’alor!”

Rex carefully extricated himself from Wolffe’s fingers. “Do you need to sit down?”

Rex assumed Mando had locked the cockpit because Mando had finally decided to indulge in his afternoon meal. He’d open it after he had his helmet back in place. For now, Rex reckoned he’d like to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

Rex laid out his bedroll on the floor and placed his blasters within reach. “Wake me in thirty,” he instructed Wolffe.

Rex woke in twenty to something punching the breath out of his solar plexus. Rex bolted up. Huge liquid eyes stared back at him.

“I told him to let you sleep,” Mando’s tired voice said from above. “I don’t know if he understands words yet.”

The twitch of Un-Yoda’s smile said he knew exactly what people told him but he enjoyed chaos too much to bother obeying. Master Yoda had shared the same wrinkled smirk. Rex narrowed his eyes. The child mimicked him and showed off his sharp teeth.

Rex scooped up the child and held him at arms length far away from those biters.

Mando took the kid again. “We’re almost there,” he said. He trekked back up to the cockpit, his cape swirling behind him. He left the door open. Rex took it as an invitation. He started for the ladder.

Mando had the Wee Little Yoda asleep in his lap. The kid made cooing sounds in his sleep.

Rex sat in the co-pilot’s seat. Mando said nothing for a long time. Rex relaxed into the silence. He stared out at the glowing streaks of stars passing by. Mando’s helmet caught the glint as he turned towards Rex.

“Do you think I’m being an irresponsible leader?” Mando asked.

Rex thought he was asking a question high above Rex’s paygrade, but he answered anyways. “I think a ruler’s responsibility is to take care of the people around him. So, if he never leaves the throne room, well.” Rex left that there. “But a ruler who knows the needs of his people because he’s out among them is a good man in my books.”

Mando sighed. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Rex nodded. He’d known the Mandalorian from the first day they’d met. The man was simple. That didn’t mean he was foolish. He was probably the wisest person Rex had ever met. That included Master Yoda, because the old gremlin hadn’t managed to see a Sith plot ten years in the making. Rex might have a bias. Didn’t make him wrong. The point was; Mando wanted two things out of life. To care for his son, and to live his Creed. It didn’t seem like much to ask. Too bad Bo Katan thought different.

“How many Mandalorians have you tried giving the Darksaber to?” Rex asked carefully.

Mando tipped his helmet. “Everybody but Boba Fett.”

Rex imagined Boba Fett leading an army of beskar clad Mandos. It would be like someone unleashing a nuclear bomb to get rid of an anthill.

“That’s smart,” Rex squeaked.

“Fett commed me right after I got it and threatened to dismember me if I offered it to him,” Mando finished.

That tracked actually. Fett had complicated history with Mandalore and he had his hands full on Tatooine last Rex heard.

“We’re here,” Mando announced. They dropped out of hyperspace.

Rex had to know something before they plunged into the lion’s den.

“What is this really all about?”

Mando leaned back in his seat. “Mandalorians have been hunted for our beskar ever since our ancestors abandoned Mandalore. There are those who would see our reuniting as strategically unwise. Before I ask them to make themselves vulnerable, I have to prove I can protect them.”

And that right there was why Bo Katan could never rule Mandalore while Mando lived. She just couldn’t compare. Nice try, Princess. Come back with some scruples and a better attitude.

The planet they’d landed on looked like a wasteland. Only sparse vegetation managed to poke through the grey dust. The trees grew twisted in spindly bunches. A dark fog spread over Rex’s feet as they exited the ship.

Bo Katan’s ship landed behind them. She emerged with her helmet on and guns at the ready. Mando leaned casually against the side of his ship with Yoda the Imposter snuggled into the satchel at his hip.

“Alright,” Bo Katan said. “Where’s your beskar thief?”

“This way,” Mando stalked silently into the gloom. Rex and Wolffe exchanged a look. They followed at a distance.

“Not many heat sources on this planet,” Wolffe reported, tapping his cybernetic eye. “Place seems abandoned.”

“So, it’s a good spot for lowlifes to hide,” Rex summed up.

Wolffe shrugged. They trekked through the fog. Rex kept his blasters in hand. Nothing moved in the sparse trees. The dry earth under their boots crackled with every step.

They approached a ridge of rock. Mando stopped.

“Hang on,” Mando started. “Something’s not right.”

A blaster bolt scorched the ground inches from Mando’s boot. He drew and shot in the blink of an eye. Rex pulled Wolffe behind a boulder. A bolt cracked against the stone above his head. Rex heard the sound of return fire.

Rex leaned out to sneak a peek. Mando hadn’t moved. He held his ground and aimed his blaster.

“We have to retreat!” Rex yelled. “There’s not enough cover here.”

Mando didn’t seem to hear. He sprayed the ridge with a shower of fire. The return shot clipped him on the pauldron. The force of the blow spun him to the side. Rex’s stomach jolted as he realised Mando had shown his vulnerable flank. He opened his mouth to shout.

Bo Katan barrelled out of nowhere and crashed into Mando. She tackled him behind a tree. Rex ducked back into his hiding spot.

“I thought the Jedi were bad,” Wolffe growled. “But Mando’s kriffing crazy.”

The blaster fire from the ridge stopped.

One by one their rag tag crew peeked out of their cover.

Rex risked stepping out from behind the boulder. He pointed his blasters. No bolts came careening to cut him down.

“All clear,” Rex announced.

Wolffe joined him, spitting curses.

Rex turned at a sound of surprise from Bo Katan.

Mando shoved himself into Bo Katan’s face. “Don’t do that again.”

Bo Katan met his ire with her own venom. “It is my responsibility to defend the Mand’alor.”

“You shame me in battle again and I’ll throw you in a sarlacc pit,” Mando growled.

A squeak came from Mando’s satchel. The tension dropped from his shoulders. He pulled Yoda the Pretender from his pouch. The tiny toddler gripped Mando’s thumb tightly.

If Rex wasn’t still worried about blaster bolts raining down from above, he would have melted over the Jedi baby.

“Can we please find some new cover?” Wolffe voiced Rex’s thoughts.

Mando and Bo Katan broke apart. Mando reached for the side of his helmet. Rex assumed he was shifting through heat scans, looking for the trail their mark might have left.

“This way,” Mando headed out around the side of the ridge.

Bo Katan watched him go. Rex gestured for her to follow, determined to keep his position as rear guard. He had some experience from chasing around kriffing Jedis.

They moved as a tight knot through the trees. Wolffe bumped his shoulder against Rex’s.

“Does this feel like an ambush to you?”

Rex nodded. “The shooter had us pinned down. He didn’t need to retreat. Unless.”

“Unless he went to warn his backup.”

Rex scanned their surroundings and cursed the fog.

The rounded a bend and ran straight into four bandits armed to the teeth.

“Kark!” Rex shouted. They were surrounded.

Wolffe and Rex moved as one; diving behind the nearest tree. Splinters and blaster bolts rained over Rex’s head.

Mando landed in the dirt next to him. Mando grunted and gripped his side.

“You hit?” Rex demanded. He raked his eyes over the spot where Mando pressed his hand. Bless the armour for saving Mando’s life and curse it at the same time for hiding the injury from Rex’s sight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mando shouted back. He yanked out his blaster and took up firing along with Rex. Rex had a kriffing time getting a single shot off with the sharpshooter pinning them against the trees. He also had no eyes on Bo Katan. Much as he disliked her, Rex hated to think she might have fallen.

Finally, Rex caught a break in the assault. He peeked around the tree trunk. Two of the four bandits were advancing. Rex aimed at the Twi’lek holding an elctro-spear.

Sizzling electricity leaped from the tip of the spear and arced past Rex’s ear.  He ducked back and jostled Wolffe.

“This feels familiar,” Rex shouted in Wolffe’s ear.

“We’re evenly matched now,” Wolffe yelled back.

“Hold your fire!” A male voice suddenly ordered. The bandits quit shooting. Rex leaned around the tree.

The tall Twi’lek twirled his electro-spear. He surveyed their little group.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the Twi’lek bared his eye teeth in a nasty grin. “We’re going to pry those two Mandalorians out of their armour and sell that beskar for a fortune. You other two can either help us and take a share of the money; or you can die just the same.”

“I got a counter offer for you,” Wolffe shouted. “You can take that spear and ram it where the sun don’t shine.”

The Twi’lek’s face turned stormy. “Fine. Have it your way.”

The other bandits lifted their weapons and renewed their firing. Rex ducked back down.

Mando shoved Not-Yoda into Rex’s hands. “Watch him. I got this.”

Mando vanished like a puff of smoke. Rex cradled the child against his chest to shield him from the stray blaster bolts. Sharp claws found their way past the collar of his breast plate to cling to his shirt.

“It’s okay,” Rex promised. “Your buir has a plan.”

The crack of shots continued to deafen Rex.

A sudden explosion rocked Rex against the tree. He curled around the Jedi child as debris rained down. Rex poked his head out.

Mando stood in the center off the destruction. Even through the smoke Rex could see his chest heaving. Three of the bandits lay on the ground at his feet. Rex didn’t see the Twi’lek leader.

Out of the smoke, a figure tackled Mando. Mando threw him off. Rex heard the groan as Mando pressed a hand to his side. The thick fabric between the beskar plates looked darker than it should.

The Twi’lek rolled and came up with a vibroblade. He slashed at Mando with the knife. Mando brought his arms up and caught the blade on his vambraces. The screech of metal on metal shrieked in Rex’s ears. He grabbed his blaster and took aim. The Twi’lek danced around Mando, hopping and weaving so much Rex couldn’t get a good shot.

A lucky kick knocked Mando’s feet out from under him. He hit the ground in a clank of armour. The Twi’lek raised the knife over his head. Rex shouted too late.

“Djarin!” Bo Katan plowed out of nowhere. Her wrist blade blocked the vibroblade’s descent. She plunged her other wrist blade into the Twi’lek’s chest. The bandit made a gurgling noise Rex wished he could block out. The body dropped and landed on top of Mando.

Bo Katan kicked the corpse aside. She offered her hand to Mando. He smacked her hand away. Mando got to his wobbly feet. He wiped the blood from his breast plate. He left a horrible handprint smeared across the silver beskar.

Rex hurried to Mando’s side. Yoda’s Progeny whined and begged for his father.

For the first time, Mando ignored his son. He pressed his visor into Bo Katan’s face.

“I warned you not to do that again.” Mando’s voice growled through his vocoder.

Bo Katan lifted her chin. The painted eyes on her helmet were cold. “If you died in battle, that kriffer becomes the next Mand’alor. I can’t let that happen.”

“Not until you get your shot first,” Mando snapped back. “We’re done.”

“You can’t dismiss me,” Bo Katan snarled. “I’m the rightful heir to the throne of Mandalore.”

“You want your throne?” Mando unclipped the Darksaber from his belt.

Rex held his breath.

Mando extended the saber hilt to Bo Katan. “Go on. Take it.”

Bo Katan seethed in silence.

“That’s what I thought.” Mando turned his back on her.

“I will challenge you for the throne,” Bo Katan promised.

“I appreciate the warning,” Mando drawled. He limped back the way they’d come.

Wolffe caught Rex’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Rex shrugged. They fell in together and trailed behind Mando.

They were barely a pace out of Bo Katan’s view when Mando’s knees buckled. Wolffe snagged his arm and kept him from cracking his bucket against a tree.

“Kriff,” Wolffe hissed. “You got bacta on the ship?”

Mando nodded.

“Alright. You’re going to have to walk. I can’t carry your weight in beskar.”

Rex carried the anxious Yoda the Younger after his father leaning hard against Wolffe’s side. The child whined and wiggled, reaching for his buir.

“He’s alright,” Rex tried to soothe the tiny Jedi. “Your buir is strong.”

They got to the ship and Wolffe dragged Mando up the ramp. Mando directed Wolffe to the med kit. Wolffe flipped it open and started rifling through the contents.

Rex knelt beside Mando sitting with his back against the ship’s wall. Blood had soaked through the flight suit under Mando’s arm. Rex set the Jedi down and grabbed for the clasps on Mando’s breast plate. A gloved hand clamped down on Rex’s wrist.

“Don’t,” Mando growled.

“We got to get at the wound,” Rex explained.

“I’ll do it myself,” Mando grabbed the kit from Wolffe. He threw himself at the cockpit ladder.

Wolffe yelped a protest. “You’re going to need help.”

“It’s forbidden,” Mando insisted.

“Fine,” Rex snapped. “But if you die up there, I’m not delivering the Darksaber to Bo Katan. I’d rather eat my bucket.”

Mando managed a bark of a laugh. “I’ll make it my final wish to have that kriffing thing tossed in a supernova.”

“That I can do,” Rex promised.

The cockpit sealed behind Mando. Wolffe stood at the door and stressed in silence so strongly that Rex was certain he would manifest the emotion as a Force Ghost.

“Make sure to use plenty of gauze,” Wolffe called through the door. “And more bacta is better than too little.”

“Vod,” Rex snapped. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“Are you sure?” Wolffe snarled back. “That kriffer jumped into an ambush to detonate a karking bomb. I don’t put much stock by whatever brains he might have left in that bucket.”

“Stop being a mother bantha,” Rex grumbled.

The door opened. Mando stomped out right past Wolffe and Rex to snatch up Small Fry Yoda. He slapped the panel that revealed his private bunk. Mando paused there, not turning to look at them.

“Thank you. I owe you a debt,” he said.

“The only thing you owe us for is forcing us to work with Bo Katan,” Rex answered.

They couldn’t see Mando’s smile, but Rex watched Mando’s shoulders relax. He retreated into the bunk and closed the door behind him. Rex and Wolffe exchanged a look.

“Do you think he sleeps with the bucket on?” Wolffe asked.

“I can hear you,” Mando’s muffled voice came through the door.

End

[aion-rsa]

Friday Night Lights: A Non-American’s Guide to American Football

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Friday Night Lights is now back on Netflix and you have to watch it. 

Just to be clear, that isn’t a request – it’s an order. The NBC football drama is simply one of the most affecting, thrilling American TV shows of all time. Though premiering in 2006, the show can mark its lineage all the way back to a true story from the late ‘80s. In 1990, sports journalist H.G. “Buzz” Bissinger published the non-fiction book Friday Night Lights: A Town, a Team, and a Dream. The book follows the story of the 1988 Permian Panthers high school football team in Odessa, Texas as they make a run for a Texas state championship.

The book was adapted into a Peter Berg film of the same name in 2004, starring Billy Bob Thornton. The story of the Permian Panthers was dramatically rich enough to conquer two mediums already, but when a third was announced in the form of a TV series for NBC it seemed like overkill. Did the world really need more high school football drama after a successful book and movie? It turns out that the world really did.

Friday Night Lights, the TV show, further fictionalized Bissinger’s story. Odessa, Texas becomes the fictional Dillon, Texas (though the Permian Panthers logo remains a big yellow “P”). Kyle Chandler steps into the role of a new coach, the magnanimous Eric Taylor. Shot in a cinema verite-style where blocking is optional, Friday Night Lights makes the viewer feel like they are just another Dillon citizen, desperately dreaming for a state championship. Above all else, this empathetic show never speaks down to its small town characters. 

As previously stated, Friday Night Lights is a must-watch. But if you’re one of our many non-American readers (Hello, everyone! I see you out there, writing “s” in words that need “z”), the football angle may seem like a real roadblock. So let’s tear down that roadblock. American football is the most popular sport in the United States but also perhaps its most impenetrable. The rulebook is thick and its connection to American culture deep. What follows is an attempt to explain American football for non-American viewers who are hesitant to tackle the show. Hopefully this will also prove useful to existing Friday Night Lights fans who have some questions about the game. 

To simplify matters, we’ve broken our football school down into three parts: The Different Levels of American Football, which explains the sport’s place in American culture and why high school football is a big deal; The Rules of American Football, which is as succinct a distillation of how the game is played as possible; and The Strategy of American Football, which examines whether Eric Taylor is even a good coach anyway. 

The Different Levels of American Football

Football is a pervasive force in American society. The highest level of play in the country (and the world) is the National Football League in which 32 teams of well-paid professionals compete against one another. The NFL is the richest sports league in the world by revenue and its championship, the Super Bowl, is usually watched by roughly 100 million people per year. Football’s influence doesn’t begin and end with the NFL though. The NFL doesn’t have a minor league or development system, so those interested in watching younger athletes are able to do so by following the sport on the collegiate or high school level.

College football is a huge deal. Some major universities’ football stadiums can house upwards of 100,000 fans. Four-year universities and colleges across the country field their own football teams that compete against one another in 12-game seasons (before a postseason consisting of “Bowl Games” but that’s too complicated to get into right now). Football at the collegiate level contains hundreds of teams split up into different leagues based on size and different conferences based on geography (for the most part). There isn’t any promotion and relegation like in European football leagues but if an institution grows big enough they can secure an invite to a higher level.

Though the decision-makers of the sport like to pretend it’s an amateur exercise and the players are not paid, college football is really a multi-billion dollar business. In fact, college football’s governing body, the NCAA, was just spooked enough by a U.S. Supreme Court decision that it allowed its athletes to finally pursue “Name, Image, Likeness (NIL)” deals in which they are allowed to make money from personal sponsorships. 

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Then we come to the high school level of football. Longtime viewers of American teenage dramas may have a pretty good idea of what a U.S. high school is now but here’s a primer for those who don’t. High school is the highest level of free public education in the U.S. before the more academically (and financially) strenuous college system. High school follows eighth grade (which together with seventh grade usually comprises of “middle school”) and consists of freshmen (ninth graders or 14-15-year-olds), sophomores (tenth graders or 15-16-year-olds), juniors (11th graders or 16-17-year-olds), and seniors (12 graders of 17-18-year-olds).

In some areas of the country, high school football is a bigger deal than college football or even the NFL. Though this level of the sport is played by essentially children, a high school football team may be the only competitive sports enterprise within hundreds of miles for some communities. This is particularly true in the massive U.S. state of Texas. Every region of the U.S. loves football, but passion for the sport is particularly acute in the Southeast, Midwest, and Texas. West Texas, where Friday Night Lights is set, is really high school football mad. The region is distinctly rural and far removed from the state’s three big cities – Houston, Austin, and Dallas. As such, high school football is the singular cultural force that many oil-drilling West Texas communities rally around.

High school football leagues across the country differ considerably, but like in college football, schools are generally grouped together by size and funding. Public and private high schools are able to compete in the same sports conferences as long as they have similar enrollments and budgets. Typically a high school football season consists of only 10 games (football is a physically brutal sport and as such plays far fewer games per year than other sports like baseball, basketball, or soccer). The regular season is usually followed by a bracket-style playoffs culminating in a state championship. There is no country-wide tournament, which is why “winning state” is the ultimate goal in Friday Night Lights. 

The Rules of American Football

I won’t lie to you: this is going to be difficult. Explaining any sport from scratch is a tall task, let alone a sport as complicated as football. Let me attempt to do so from the ground up and please be patient. There will be some visual aids as well.

First, it’s probably helpful to know about the field that football is played on. There’s a reason why in some European markets that the sport is known as “Gridiron Football” and that’s because the field resembles a cooking utensil known as a gridiron.

Every American football field consists of 100 yards (split into two sides of 1-50 yards). At the end of each side of the field is an “endzone.” A player entering into the endzone with the football is called a “touchdown” and nets a team six points. At the back of each endzone are the goalposts – yellow tuning fork-like structures that the ball is occasionally kicked through for more points. These are akin to rugby’s goalposts but slightly differently shaped. Let’s table the whole kicking thing for now and focus strictly on the action on the field.

The goal of football is to enter into the endzone with the ball to score points and have more points at the end of the game than the other team. A football game is 60 minutes, split into four 15-minute quarters (with a lengthy halftime break after the second quarter). Eleven players take the field for each team, one side on “offense” and one side on “defense.” A coin is flipped at the beginning of each game to decide who gets to start as offense and who gets to start as defense. The team who began the game on defense will get to be the offense at the start of the second half.

The offense is charged with advancing the ball 100 yards down the field into the end zone, while the defense is tasked with stopping them by tackling the person with the football to the ground. The offense is granted four tries or “plays” to try to score. The action isn’t continuous in American football like it is in European football. After a team runs a play to attempt to advance the ball, they get a 40-second break to plot their next play. A play simply refers to the action on the field that the offense takes to get down the field. It begins with the “center” “snapping” the ball to the “quarterback” behind him and ends when the offense either scores (rare) or is foiled in some way – whether that means being tackled in bounds, stepping out of bounds, or throwing the ball out of bounds. Here is a chart of the typical football positions.

The offense’s two most reliable ways of advancing the ball downfield are either throwing it or running it. On a running play, the quarterback (Jason Street or Matt Saracen in Friday Night Lights) will receive the snap and hand it off to a running back (Smash Williams or Tim Riggins) who tries to run the ball upfield while his teammates block for him. Alternatively, the quarterback can throw the ball to an open wide receiver as long as the throw originates from behind the line of scrimmage (the area on the field where the play originated). 

Four tries to reach the end zone are rarely enough opportunities for the offense. Thankfully, that’s where “first downs” come in. If the offense advances 10 yards, their “downs” or attempts to score reset back to the full four. That’s where terms like “1st and 10” or “2nd and 7” or “4th and 1” come from. The first number refers to which “down” or attempt the offense is on (1, 2, 3, or 4) while the second number refers to how many yards they need to reach to achieve another first down. Due to penalties or a player being tackled well behind the line of scrimmage (called a “sack” or a “tackle for loss”), the number of yards needed to reach a first down can exceed 10. One time in 2012, the Washington Football Team even had a “3rd and 50”, meaning they needed to move 50 yards for a first down. 

If the offense fails to score or get a first down while on fourth down, possession of the ball is granted to the other team on the same spot that the offense failed. This is called a “turnover on downs.” The team that was previously on offense will bring their defensive unit into the game while the other team will bring their offensive unit. At the collegiate and professional level, players usually only play on one “side” of the ball – offense or defense. In high school, where the level of talent is more inconsistent, it’s not uncommon for several players to be on both the offensive and defensive units. This doesn’t come up much on Friday Night Lights though – for the most part the offensive players stay on offense and the defensive players stay on defense.

It is possible for the defense to force a turnover in other ways beyond just a turnover on downs. If the offense drops or “fumbles”’ the ball and the defense recovers it, it belongs to them. If the defense catches a ball thrown by the offense it is an “interception” and the offense suddenly becomes the defense and the defense suddenly becomes the offense. This situation factors prominently in Friday Night Light’s first episode. 

Turnovers are awful, so the offense has a couple of tools to combat them. At any point during their drive down the field, the offense can choose to “punt” the ball. This means that if they’ve reached 4th down and are unlikely to convert a first down (if it is 4th and 10 from their own 30 yardline for instance), they can choose to have a kicking specialist called a “punter” enter the field. The punter receives the snap, tosses the ball up in the air, and punts the ball far down the field to the other team to catch and try to advance. This is a surrender from the offense but at least they’re making things a bit more difficult for the other offense by pushing the new offense further down the field. Punts rarely factor into Friday Night Lights as they aren’t particularly interesting. 

Alternatively, if the offense is close to the end zone but not close enough that they’re confident they can reach it, they can attempt to kick the ball through the aforementioned goalposts for three points. A “kicker” is brought onto the field and attempts to kick the ball through the goalposts from the ground. A “holder” is allowed to hold the ball upright for the kicker but the ball must be touching the ground for the attempt to count.

Let’s delve a little further into the scoring system. We’ve mentioned that kicking the ball through the uprights is a field goal and nets three points while carrying the ball into the endzone is a touchdown and nets six points. But there are a couple other ways to score in football as well. After a touchdown is achieved, the offense is immediately granted the opportunity to score again. They must choose whether they want to kick the ball through the uprights from extremely close range (which nets one extra point) or to try to reach the end zone again from extremely close range (which nets two extra points). Additionally, if the offense is tackled in their own end zone, it nets two points for the opposing team and they receive the ball back via punt. This is called a “safety.”

To recap: 

Safety: 2 points

Field Goal: 3 points

Touchdown: 6 points (+1 for a field goal attempt, +2 for a scoring attempt).

This means that football scores can generate pretty much any result other than 1-0 or 1-1. Typically a “normal” scoring game will be somewhere between the 20-40 range in divisions of 7 or 3. A score of 35-28 is a pretty usual final football score.

Still confused? That’s understandable. Football is a fairly confusing sport at times. But hopefully you are a little better equipped to understand the action on the field in Friday Night Lights. The show certainly isn’t trying to present a complicated depiction of football. Armed with the basics, you should have a rough idea of what’s happening during all the football action. 

If you feel like you’ve mastered the basics, feel free to move on to the final section of this piece.

The Strategy of American Football

The only constant in football is change. The rules of the sport are tweaked every single year and sometimes the sport undergoes truly massive alterations. In fact, the forward pass itself (now a staple of the game) wasn’t even legal for the first few decades of football’s existence. As such, the offensive and defensive strategies of football are in a constant state of flux. 

What’s interesting to note about Friday Night Lights is how old-fashioned its depiction of football appears to be at the series’ beginning. Keep in mind that this story began with the 1988 Permian Panthers. So despite premiering and taking place in 2006, the Dillon Panthers offense looks quite antiquated at first. 

The Dillon Panthers open the series as a run-first offense in a “Wing-T” formation. Running back Brian “Smash” Williams is the cornerstone of the Panthers’ strategy because back in the ‘80s and ‘90s, athletically superior running backs were usually the most dominant force in any high school offense. The Panthers plan of attack is to have a fast tailback (colloquially called a “running back” because they begin the play in the backfield and then…run)  and a strong fullback in the backfield alongside the quarterback. The Panthers’ plan is to snap the ball, give it to the fast guy, have him follow the big blockers, then rinse and repeat.

Interestingly enough, the show uses the primitiveness of the Panthers’ offense to its advantage in later seasons. When some parents and Panthers boosters (literally just rich people that support a high school or college team) want to oust Coach Eric Taylor, they point to his inability to change with the times and create a sophisticated passing attack as one reason. Coach Taylor does eventually attempt to implement a “spread” offense. 

Spread offenses were all the rage at the high school and collegiate level in the early aughts. The “spread” strategy refers to “spreading” three to five wide receivers on the line of scrimmage to force the defense to cover them man-to-man. Defenses are always strategizing just like offenses, and by forcing the defense to spread out and guard many receivers, it takes away a lot of their more sophisticated coverage options (like double-teaming or divvying up the field into “zones” of coverage). 

In later seasons, when Coach Taylor gains access to a fast, dynamic quarterback, he incorporates a bit of the “option” into his spread offense. This is where the QB uses the spacing from the spread to scan the field, analyze certain players’ positioning on the defense, and decide to pass the ball, hand off the ball, or run the ball himself.

Based on all this, it sounds like Eric Taylor is a pretty brilliant coach, right? Well, not exactly. The internet is littered with breakdowns of Taylor’s strategy from smart football minds. Most of said articles criticize him on two big fronts. The first is his tardiness in adapting to a pass-heavy offense. The second is his absolutely abominable clock management. Since the clock counts down in American football and there is no stoppage time, managing time is a huge part of a coach’s responsibility. 

Since the show naturally wants to inject some drama into its football scenes, the Dillon Panthers as coached by Eric Taylor often have next to 0 clock awareness. This breakdown even notes than in the pilot episode, the Panthers somehow only move the ball 30 yards in five minutes of gametime. That is…pretty curious. 

Also, while it’s not uncommon for a head coach to specialize in either the defensive or offensive side of the ball, Eric Taylor’s is particularly offensive-focused. Defensive plays aren’t as exciting to depict on television, so Coach Taylor is rarely shown coaching up the defensive half of his team. That’s a pretty big blindspot when it comes to head coaching. 

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Now that you’ve read through this full breakdown of American football, give Friday Night Lights a watch or a rewatch. Who knows – you may even be a sharper football mind than Coach Taylor at this point.

The post Friday Night Lights: A Non-American’s Guide to American Football appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Treasure of the Golden Suns Reviews: Wronguay in Ronguay (Paid for by Patreons)

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to the genesis of magillicutty   Ducktales with the second part of my months long look at Treasure of the Golden Suns, the mini series that kicked off the series. These reviews are a result of me hitting my first patreon stretch goal. I just did a LONGGG post outlining those here on tumblr so hit that up and help join my patreon so I can reach them and make some more moolah to help keep this my primary job. 

So speaking of that job we’re back to The Treasure of the Golden Suns and the first chapter, while not bad, was a tad disappointing, especially since I really liked it on first viewing. So will the second chapter fair just as bad or be a massive improvement? The only way to find out is under the cut. 

Previously on Ducktales: Donald shoved off with the navy leaving the boys with Scrooge, with both growing to care about one another... both out of nowhere

The boys ended up embroiled int he Beagle Boys theft of a wooden ship for a mysterious gentleman named El Capitan whose preferedd method of dealing with enterlopers.. was to use a chair like a lion tamer. After being falsely blamed for the theft, the boys ended up chasing the beagles to Scrooge’s candy factory, were vindicated and fought them off with Scrooge’s help , ending with the boys getting covered in choclate.  while El Capitan escaped vowing to find the gold. Now knowing the wooden ship was a map, the family prepared to set off

And that’s where we pick up. The reporter from last episode comments on the beagle bust and while the Beagles are hauled off, with Burger asking if they have any milk after eating his chocolate prison. Because his only  character trait is that...

The camera does linger on an impression the ship made in the chocolate... hmmmmmm.

Meanwhile we meet FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD. As I said with Catch as Cash Can, he’s not BAD, just not NEARLY as memorable as the triumphantly insane 2017 version. He’s sitll a good villian and we’ll see why soon, he just has the unenviable task of competiting with a far more iconic versoin made decades later whose far more my type of bad guy. El Captian calls him and offers to make him the richest duck in the world, which he naturally is happy to hear him out on. El Captian as a character i’ll get into more.. but for now let’s talk about his weird fucking voice. For some reason, Jim is doing a Dr. Claw impression, to the point I thought this was Frank Welker. I will grant it’s better than a horrible latinx sterotype, and given the grand kishke and a minor character in this very episode, they were NOT above those, but its’ still just.. weird. He just sounds like he’s possesed with about 80 or 90 demons for no explained reason. 

Back at the mansion, Scrooge and the Boys are both preparing to go after the treasure on the boat map: Scrooge is practicing vacuming it up using the pool and a sea safe vacum likely invented by Gyro, while the boys find the right coordinates to the treasure. Scrooge naturally.. is a bit of a dick about it, refusing to take them along despite them having found it, and saying they can stay with Duckworth. Duckworth’s response is about what you’d expect:

However before they can argue about this, there’s a bang at the door: It’s Flinty and here’s where the parts of this Glomgold I DO like, that do make him standout, if not as much sa his succesor shine: He plays scrooge, offering him 2 million for the Candy Factory. Naturally not realizing what Flinty’s getting out of the deal, Scrooge jumps at a quick and easy 2 million, since he knows it’ll cost MORE than that just to fix up the place. Flinty then proposes a contest: the two of them try to make as much money as possible from scratch in two days. No rules, no barriers, just whoever dosen’t have more money than the other by the end has to eat Flinty’s hat. Scrooge accepts.. but then realizes he has to eat crow and allow the boys along. With Scrooge sufficently blackmailed, the boys reveal where the treasure is: Ronguay, a made up south american county. Why they did so.. well just wait a second. And no it’s not just for the tile... but your close. 

No we find out why as they take the cheapest flight avaliable to Ronguay, only for the boys their going the Wrong way to Ronguay. 

Yeah I love a good pun but I draw the line at desinging an ENTIRE COUNTRY for a really obvious one. I have standards on this blog! Standards that include thirsting after Keith David , DBZA refrences up the whazoo and posting this gif of David Byrne at every given opportunity. 

Look my standards are weird, but their still standards. I draw the line at making a stupid pun when there’s a rich number of countries in South America. I’m not saying Carl Barks was ever against making up a country, he probably did, could be wrong, but more often than not he did his homework instead, as did his succesor Don Rosa. It feels lazy to just make up a country when you really don’t have to and could’ve just found one with a massive rainy season for your children’s cartoon. It’s not hard. I mean it’s harder than now: now I could just google “what south american countries have torrental rains”.. but it’s not like you guys could’n’t just go to a bookstore and buy a refrence book or a library and rent one. I mean if they ran out of time to do anyresearch fine, but even for the 1980′s it wasn’t that difficult to at least TRY. 

Regardless it turns out the pilot is a robot pilot.. who looks amazing but  as it’s a flintheart glomgold company joint is purposfuly tring to keep them off path. Look they didn’t have to unplug the poor guy. I know what he wants. 

So now on the right way to Ronguay our heroes lan only to find the locals all fleeing in terror of something. Scrooge heads in for suplies anyway and finds... a VERY racist sounding clerk. Seriously just to picture this.. picture say .. Michael Scott trying to do an mexican accent. You good and cringing? If not, adapt that to your doofus sitcom character or republican senator of choice There you go. You see my point. It’s not the WORST i’ve seen.. but only because I sat through the Rediculous 6 with my best friend, one of three, Cory, for a podcast we tried doing a year or two ago. I’ve seen Rob Schinder do  this for an entire movie. In 2015 no less. So my threshold for HORRIFCALLY offensive is vast and deep. But this is still garden variety racist and should not have been okay then or now. 

And it really SHOULD have the warning label on it. I’m fully in favor of the content warnings Disney started using, and it’s why I got so fucking annoyed during all the talk about it when it happend to the Muppet Show, ESPECIALLY when the republicans got a hold of it and accused them of “Canceling the muppets”. This is NOT fucking cancelation, this is a way to have the past there for posterity, while acknolding it sucked and was NEVER okay. It’s the best way to do this in my opinon, and it bothers me a LOT that a bunch of jagoffs coopted it and threw a hissy fit about Disney trying to do the right goddamn thing. And i’m also okay with leaving some media out. Disney + is a family platform. While keeping classic movies and shows on there with a proper warning is one thing, it’s another to not put song of the south or that episode of the muppets where the host later turned out ot be a pedophile on there. Some things just don’t have nearly enough worth to outpace the harm they can do. And it’s up to companies and consumers to figure out what fits where. 

Anyways our heroes find a llama for transport and that the map is seemingly a dead end to the desert. But Scrooge is determined to press on... and while he does El Capitan and Glomgold are following him, though the two clearly don’t agree on whose in charge, or if El Captian sounds like dr claw or not. They followed with their own copy of the map taken from the chocolate. 

As things progress the rain starts.. and our heroes find out via the JWG that this is what the citzens were all running from. They loose the llama, though are able to salvage some of their suplies it was carrying, and Scrooge nearly gives up to dispair. It’s a good, if sudden, character moment: Scrooge genuinely laments that he was worried one day he’d loose his step.. and stop being one step ahead of everyone. It shows some much needed vunerablity.. that beneath his boisterious and cantankerious usual personality he’s deathly afraid his age will eventualy mean he’ll have to stop..and having to stop adventuring and stop working and stop doing eveyrthing that makes him Scrooge McDuck is a fate worse than death. 

Thankfully he dosen’t as via a figure on the ship, Huey, Dewey or Louie figures out, in a REALLY amazing twist, that the desert itself was the ocean: the ship that has the treasure simply sailed here and hid it. So while our heroes reflect, Glomgold decides to take them out NOW while he has the chance over El Captian’s protests, as the good captain only cares about the gold. But Glomgold is right.. from a villianous point of view at least. leaving them alive is a waste.. granted he does so.. in a way that makes my brain cry out in pain and want to run. He lights a stick of dynamite. In a torrential rainstorm. 

I mean i’d expect 2017 Glomgold to try it and have it fail.. not to have the actually clever 87 version not only try something this stupid BUT HAVE IT WORK. THE FUSE LIGHTS. IT’S READY TO GO OFF. HE ONLY STOPS IT BECAUSE HIS MAP GETS EATEN AND THEY NEED SCROOGE’S IN TACT. JUST HOW DO YOU WHY DO YOU AUGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

Okay i’m.. i’m good now. So after that bit of nonsense and some taking my medication, our heroes take shelter in a cave. The grusome twosome try to sneak in while their asleep.. only to trigger the alarms the boys set up using their pots and pans, a “junior woodchuck alarm”. Clever little bastards. 

The tables quickly turn though as Thing one and Thing Two trap our heroes in the cave.. as i’ts flooding. Scrooge has them press on in hopes of finding a way out, and it rises further and furthe ran excenelty tense scene. But eventually our heroes manage to find somewhere safe in time: the shipwrecked boat with all the gold. Scrooge even puts on a nifty golden conquestador’s helmet. 

Naturally since we have minutes left in the episode the bad guys show up and have a gun... they never had before. 

Regardless our heroes are lowered into the lifeboat at gunpoint as the ship goes out to sea and i’ts revealed el captain worked on teh ship as he knows the full manifest.

However both villians personal flaws end up doing them in: Glomgold’s need to gloat means he gives Scrooge a golden coin as he mocks him about winning the bet... only for El Captain to fly into an insane rage demanding he swim out and get it despite just how LITTLE he really needs the coin. He and Glomgold struggle over the ships canon, both no longer needing the other and eventually fire off a ball that capsizes the ship. El Captian seemingly drowns while Glomgold is forced onto the life boat with the McDucks.. and finds out he lost as while he and Scrooge both lost the treasure the coin he tossed scrooge means Scrooge still has made more money. So Glomgold prepares to eat his hat and El Captian prepares for vengance and to get his gold back. 

Final Thoughts on Wronguay in Ronguay: The iffy bit with the store clerk aside.. this episdoe is easily the best 87 Episode i’ve seen.  It captures the spirit of barks perfectly with plenty of intresting twists that kept me engaged the whole time, some great jokes, and two great villians who are done in soley by their own greed and neurosusi> it’s really great stuff and what I expected more and remember more from the 87 Series: top notch adventure in the barks style but wiht it’s own unique touches. While the pilot was a bit rough due to all the ground it tried to cover, this episode, now having the basic formula of the series pretty much set, is allowed to just be a fun, daring adventure story that brilliantly builds off the last episode but can be wholly enjoyed on it’s own. Hopefully this momentum keeps because I don’t remember being the fondest of the next two episodes.. and given that content warning I think we’re in for a rough time next month. 

If you liked htis join my patreon, etc etc, I went into that mor eup top. Till All Are One, See you at the next Rainbow. 

[elsewhereuniversity]

Kitty's Cat

It was unusual to carry a stuffed animal around with you at college, but, then again, Elsewhere University itself was unusual. She earned the nickname “Kitty” during her first dorm floor meeting the Sunday before classes started, after she carried her old, ratty, stuffed cat with her throughout the entirety of the campus tour that seemed to go on for far longer than the small campus should need. 

It was lucky she had earned her nickname so early, her RA told her.

“It’s best to never answer to your real name while you attend this school,” her RA said cryptically. “And, no matter how much people tease you for carrying around that animal,” here the RA gestured to her kitty, “never put it down. You never know what might pick it up.”

So Kitty took her stuffed cat to class with her every day. And when she began making friends, she took her cat to their library study sessions and their after class picnics on the grass. They always left some grapes out for the crows: a safe way of saying thank you. Kitty slept with her cat, of course, and, when she showered, she made sure to put it on the chair in the stall next to her folded towel. 

Kitty heard the whispers from her friends, about the not-people in the swimming pool and the library trips that turned into searches that lasted years before the student came out, no older than they had been when they were lost. She also heard tales of the forest, and she knew she was supposed to keep her pockets full of salt and leave out coffee creamers for Them, but she couldn’t help it if she forgot sometimes. It was hard enough trying to pass her classes when her Biology teacher seemed to change every day and her American History professor seemed to have too much of a knowing glint in their eye when they went over the Civil War. 

Her friends that weren’t directly in her major dropped off throughout the years, murmuring to themselves about how weird it was that she was never Taken, never even Touched, even though she never followed the rules, and she was an English major with an emphasis on Poetry to boot. Kitty never dated; she could never find someone who didn’t find her stuffed cat a little off-putting, or at least that’s the excuse an otherworldly attractive senior with strangely slitted eyes and a few too many teeth gave her after they had been talking for a few weeks her junior year. She sat in nearly empty poetry classes as everyone always seemed to be absent for some reason or another. If her professors found it odd that she was often the only one in her classes, they never commented on it. Kitty was just happy she got the one-on-one assistance with her poetry. 

Kitty may have wanted adventure when she was a freshman, learning Elsewhere’s tricks with the same awe she felt when she watched Peter Pan for the first time, or read Percy Jackson. Over the years, however, as her poetry friends began to be Taken one by one and only occasionally Returned, she began to feel grateful for what she had. She couldn’t afford to lose another friend to Them, so she stopped trying to make new ones. Kitty kept her head down and went to class and studied in her room that used to have a roommate and never once put her stuffed cat down.

She watched from her cat’s side as her four and a half years (she missed the deadline to register for a class one year because she needed permission from a department head who had disappeared for a week along with their entire building) slid by, and, suddenly, it was time for her to graduate. 

Kitty walked around the campus one last time the day before graduation, saying goodbye to the buildings she had called home. She rounded the corner of the English building, intending to go up the steps and sit on one of the older-than-time benches in the foyer, when she ran smack into someone.

“Oh! I am so sorry,” Kitty exclaimed from her new position on the ground. She looked up into the eyes of-

“It’s fine,” Jenny, Kitty’s freshman year RA, replied, her eyes darting around wildly, now noticeably more haunted than they had been four years ago. 

“What are you-” doing here, Kitty had been about to say, since she knew Jenny was supposed to have graduated almost two years ago, but Jenny cut her off.

“What day is it?”

“Uhh… Thursday?” Kitty began to stand up slowly, automatically reaching for her stuffed cat and cradling it with her left arm. 

“No, no,” Jenny shook her head wildly, “I mean, what’s the date? What year is it?”

“Oh, oh,” Kitty suddenly understood, and she told her the current date and year. 

“Good,” Jenny said, nodding decisively, “then I bargained well. I’m back before anything happens. And, look, I’ve run into you! Just the person I’m looking for!” Jenny’s wild look faded as she zeroed in on Kitty, seeming to realize who she was for the first time since their exchange began. 

“Jenny, what do you mean?” Kitty asked. “Were you… Taken?” Kitty didn’t have a lot of experience with people who had been Taken. The people in her poetry classes that had been Taken came back… different. They always seemed to shy away from her, even if they had once been close friends.

“Yes, Taken, that’s a good word for it,” Jenny bobbed her head up and down a few more times than strictly necessary, and grabbed Kitty’s arm. She spoke with some difficulty, as if she was in pain from touching Kitty, and dragged the student up the stairs behind her. “Come with me and, whatever you do, don’t drop that stuffed cat.” 

Jenny led Kitty through a series of hallways in the English building Kitty was sure she had never been down before. She could feel a low thrum of unease as they traveled deeper, seeping in from her left side, where she cradled her cat against her body. The passageways transitioned from the comforting, friendly plaster of the normal school hallway into brick and mortar that slowly grew more and more crumbling, until finally it felt almost like Kitty was walking on dirt. By that point, it was too dark to see, and all Kitty could do was allow Jenny’s arm to guide her deeper into the darkness. She had no choice; there was no way Kitty would be able to get herself out. 

They stopped so abruptly that Kitty ran into Jenny’s back. She drew in a breath to ask one of the many questions teeming in her mind, but Jenny’s hand got there faster, covering her mouth so she was unable to make a sound. 

“Shhhh!” Jenny quieted Kitty. “Let me do the talking.” Jenny removed her hand from Kitty’s mouth and released her arm from her grip. 

Suddenly, Kitty could see. No, not just see. Kitty could See. With her newfound Sight, Kitty took in the dirt walls around them, glowing softly with small string lights, Their lights. There was a cluster of Them across the room, earthen in their forms, tall and willowy but somehow also robust and strong. They were a collection of contrasting silhouettes; all at once fluid and moving with a core of iron–er, steel. For the first time since coming to EU, Kitty felt afraid. She was so scared, she could almost feel her stuffed cat trembling against her side.

“Where are we?” she whispered, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, which was closer to their heads than she would like, with tree roots hanging down every several feet. 

“We’re Under,” Jenny replied grimly, turning to face the Beings in the corner.

Read Part 2 Here!

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