#last season was so toxic i try to remove everything about it from my head but it does gives me some of the best moment in my life too 😭😭😭

[collecting--stardust]

Yup if it's not obvious I'm having a brainrot over last year's Catalan GP

[lovelykhaleesiii]

can I just say this fandom is getting so ... toxic and out of hand I go to twitter there's shit, I come to tumblr there's more shit 🤡 honestly the hate towards actors and even amongst fans, and creators be it art, fanfic or whatever... Is so disgusting... It's like either you have to agree with every single world someone says or else you're the enemy and get told you should go kys or worse... the racism towards poc actors and overall bully behaviour makes me mad af ... ppl forget how they are just doing their jobs, they don't write the scripts they just act them out...

I haven't interacted with fandom for months now, given the amount discourse between writers had me shook, so basically blocked every account that showed up on dash regarding it all, but with season 2 coming I thought hey why not see how things are... Idk it's like nothing changed for some folk ... They still hate Emma for not being the Rhaenyra they want, the hate Olivia for just playing her part, they hate tom because ... the poor man is playing a controversial character ... They hate Bethany for being a woc ...

Sorry for the rant, I've just been so frustrated with seeing everything... Plan to block all hotd tags and certain creators because honestly I just pop by on tumblr to browse through things and sometimes read a fic or two but lately the amount of bad behaviour I've seen in this fandom from writers or just random hateful folk have just ruined the whole experience for me.

I totally get you nonnie & I’m so sorry you feel this way, especially with s2 just days away from airing…

I do think as unfortunate as it is, majority of this fandom is actually quite heinous and disgusting. the behaviour I’ve seen towards the cast members and towards each other in this space is so hostile and vile, I’m openly ashamed to be part of it. all this back and forth bullshit with TG vs TB is just actual fucking nonsense. like who gives an actual shit? there’s an entire genocide happening but let’s ignore that and rip each other’s heads off about fictional people… humanity at its finest.

I’m actually being deadass when I say, I’m so over this discourse between the teams regarding HOTD. like no team is better than the other, that was the whole point of the story.

hence why, I’m trying to remove myself a little bit from the fandom space especially on tumblr. only trying to focus my energy and interest into the story / show itself.

after all the drama that unfolded especially in this fandom these last few months, there’s a lot of hypocritical behaviour and I’ve honestly got no energy anymore.

more important things in life than arguing with twats on the internet.

so I definitely recommend removing yourself from toxic people in this fandom, whether you need to ghost or block them. you’ll be saving yourself 🫶🏻

sending you only good vibes anon, and I hope you can find some solace in my little corner. that’s what I can offer to anyone that feels the same!

[cy-fi-theansweris42]

OK SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DARIUS AND ALADOR IN THAT LAST PART OF THE FINALE

Before I get into that though, I want to say that from what we’ve seen, I think Darius and Alador have some kind of potentially romantic history during their Hexside days. Maybe they started dating a little, maybe they were going to, or maybe Darius said he had feelings for Alador, but no matter what it is, I think there was some kind of romantic history that eventually ended badly, leading to Darius calling Alador “a hack” and the rivalry they seemed to have in season 2.

So now, let me show a few images from the scene right after Alador successfully removed a coven sigil.

Ok so let’s look at the progression here. Initially, Darius is amazed, literally his mouth is wide open and he’s starting because it worked, the coven sigil is gone.  Then, in his amazement, he grabs Alador and starts shaking him, kind of like in a “are you seeing this, look it worked, did you see that??” kind of way. He’s amazed, he’s excited, he’s reaching for Alador and then-- And then Darius realizes what he’s doing.

Now, before I continue to ramble here, I want to point out that in order for Darius to become the Abomination Coven head and successfully be a rebel without being caught or raise suspicions, he had to be a very, very, good actor. Because of the toxic work environment that the castle was and what probably would have happened if anyone found out that Darius was a rebel (looks at the Conformatorium and possibly the petrification ceremony because at that point Darius potentially would have been viewed as a threat to Belos), Darius has been acting for a while. (Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if putting on an act was second nature to him by this point but that’s another ramble in itself, lol).

Now, back to the scene. When Darius realizes what he’s doing, he freezes. He was visibly excited, no act, no mask, and suddenly he was very close to Alador. And what did he do? He instantly moved away, turning away from Alador.

Let’s look at Darius’ body language here. Now to me, just about everything with Darius in that last image reads as defensive. He was close to Alador, and then once he realized what he was doing he instantly turned away from Alador. He’s leaning away from Alador, he has his arms crossed over his chest, which also reads as defensive, and he looks upset. Not glaring at Alador, which you’d think he would do if he was still keeping with the whole “Alador’s a hack” thing, just upset.

Or, at least half of his face does. 

Let’s look at just the left half of his face for a moment. There’s a slight blush, he has one eye closed, and the side of his mouth there is turned up almost in a smile. With just that half of his expression in mind, it makes me think of someone who has a crush. Now the right half of his face. Even with just that part of his expression in mind, he doesn’t look mad at Alador, or trying to play the part of a rival... he looks upset. Hurt. Maybe a little tired. To me, it looks like someone who’s trying to remind themselves not to do something because they don’t want to get hurt.

Honestly, to me it looks like Darius is trying to tell himself not to get too close to Alador. To me, it looks like he went on the defensive, that he’s upset with himself and trying to tell himself “don’t go down this road again, you only got hurt the last time”.

My own headcanon is that Darius and Alador started dating during their Hexside days, but then Odalia made Alador break things off with Darius. It lead to a bad breakup, or at least one with a lot of hurt feelings in Darius’ case, which then led to the rivalry thing they have going on in season 2. If that’s the case, then that would explain Darius’ reactions in this scene. I admit, I could be wrong, but I think it’s a possible theory.

[loveabledirtbag]

1.03 - brigade

what a chill opening. we learn carmy owns a coat, AND a hat? not just a white shirt and black pants. that’s what we call character growth, gang.

it’s amazing how in episode one we see the back of mikey’s head, in episode three we hear him say “let it rip, buddy”, and when he is finally revealed later on in the season i had NO idea it was gonna be who it was (more on that later). and now every rewatch when i hear him talk, or we see the back of his head i go “how could i not realize who the actor was playing mikey before it was revealed?”

i had NO idea that was molly ringwald at al-anon for the longest time. but i saw her name in the credits and had to think hard about who it could be! it was honestly like, “well….the only character who even remotely looks kinda like her would be the woman who spoke at the al-anon meeting, but there’s no way….right???” and then i googled it. yeah. that’s molly ringwald! this show does cameos so well. joel mchale last episode, now molly ringwald. so good.

i think it’s really good writing that when carmy attends al-anon for the first time, molly ringwald (i’m sure her character has a name, but i don’t know what it is) talks about “keeping my side of the street clean”, and that inspires carmy to implement it in his own “life”, his life being the shop. however, he doesn’t have the skills, the practice, the knowledge or anything to know how to implement “keeping you side of the street clean”. so he does the best he can with what he has: kitchen systems. which to him means implementing a french brigade. i also love that in the long run doing that DOES actually help the shop, but at the end of this episode we’re kinda shown that it’s a totally shitshow flop.

“remove myself from any situation that is, or could become, toxic”…well, someone’s never worked in the service industry. and i think that’s probably the point? because to me that’s the bigger point being made in her speech, but carmy’s whole life right now is the restaurant, and the restaurant is a toxic situation, and carmy can’t remove himself from his whole life. so he chooses to focus on keeping his side of the street clean instead.

the hard cut to “remove myself from anything toxic” to what is, arguably, the most tense scene of the whole show until episode seven, is very well done. and so poignant. we go from “remove yourself from anything toxic” to jumping RIGHT INTO an extremely toxic situation: richie and sydney screaming at each other, a line out the door, people not doing their job right, the whole works.

also, i don’t want to anger any sydney stans. but i think it’s strange how many people i’ve seen saying that sydney is always perfect, and carmy is always an angry monster. because here is sydney just absolutely making the situation worse by meeting richie at his asshole level. he’s yelling at her, and she’s yelling right back. she’s actively NOT helping. in fact, carmy is the one trying to mediate, and trying to calm everyone down. i’m not trying to shit on sydney! i love sydney. but i’m pointing out that this show is very good at making everyone human. everyone is nuanced. everyone is at fault at one time or another and no one is perfect. im also not defending carmy for every instance. he makes mistakes. REPEATEDLY. but he doesn’t only make mistakes. here is a scene where carmy is trying to do it right, and sydney is at fault. obviously i haven’t even mentioned richie, but that’s because of course richie is at fault. it’s richie. the louder richie is is equal to how wrong he is in any given moment.

the man with the sysco hats orders 2 dogs with everything on them, and richie says “$5.25”…i mean, i know a dog isn’t the most expensive thing in the world, but damn. it’s not exactly a mystery why they were having money problems…i looked up a chicago style hot dog place near me and one dog is $6.25

oh damn, carmy at home, and he’s wearing a black t-shirt! so much character growth! we’re learning carmy owns other clothes!

i think it’s strange in the scene where we see carmy not able to sleep, and so he goes into the restaurant early. because manny, angel, and marcus are already there, but marcus asks “what are you doing here so early?”. that’s not necessarily the most weird thing in the world, bakers are usually the first in at a place, because dough and baking in general takes a lot of time. manny and angel could also be there early to wash dishes. typically dish washers work the hardest in a kitchen. but it is strange because this early into the shift how many dishes are there for them to do? if it’s only marcus getting his prep ready, i don’t think the shop needs to be paying for two dishwashers to wash the few dishes marcus would be making. keep in mind that the beef also only has two dishwashers when they are going through a wild and hectic dinner rush. i find it more believable that they’d need two dishwashers for a dinner rush (professional dishwashers are some of the most skilled dish cleaners you’ll ever meet. they’ll clean shit so fucking fast it’ll blow your mind) more than i believe they need two dishwashers right away in the morning when it’s just marcus prepping dough for sandwich bread. but that’s not even the weird part! marcus wonders why carmy is there early, but then sydney just happens to also be there. she’s just getting in, but she’s at the shop too and no one thinks its weird she’s there so early. and then just a few minutes later ebra is also there. if so many cooks are at the beef right away in the morning, why is it weird that carmy is there? we already know carmy is obsessed with the place and spends all his time there. and he’s also the one who is supposed to be directing everyone in their cooking, as well as helping with prep and cooking himself. so why is it strange that he’s there so early? i assume it is just the writers trying to let us the audience know that he couldn’t sleep?

i do love the sort of inspirational talk carmy and marcus have. where carmy is trying not to be triggered by thoughts of his past restaurant while looking at all the dishes he used to make, as he tells marcus stories, and as marcus is being inspired by them.

not that i’m the most knowledgeable person on cooking and kitchens, my time has been pretty limited, but TWELVE PEOPLE??? i’ve never heard of a dish that takes twelve people to make. by my best estimates with carmy explaining how to make the dish he only mentions maybe 6 people: the two chefs cooking down the plum wine. the person(s) cooking the plum consommé. which carmy says takes hours, so let’s just say it takes two shifts which means two chefs. the chef making the compressed plums. and then maybe a different chef who takes the consommé and makes it into the gelée. idk how you take six chefs and make that into twelve, but DAMN

carmy talks about these compressed plums cut into perfect squares, but there’s no square plums in the picture. which is so confusing to me. i’ve thought about this forever. i hate how much time this has taken up in my life. the plums are circular in the picture, but carmy says squares. why didn’t they write it differently? they had to have had the reference photo for the dish, right?

i like to think that the chef who cracked the plum gelée was luca from copenhagen. but as carmy tells the story we’re only getting flashbacks to his shop in new york, and we don’t have any evidence that luca worked with carmy in new york.

i’m glad that the show addressed being a woman in the kitchen. i know that being a woman in the service industry is getting better, BUT there’s still so much work and progress that needs to be made. obviously. and so we have two women in the beefs kitchen and one has learned how to be as tough as nails (tina) and the other has proved herself with talent, and is insistent that she doesn’t need any help with anything (syd).

it’s also poignant, because sydney is tiny and marcus is a giant with a golden retriever soul, and he just wants to help without even thinking of the fact that sydney is a woman. that’s obviously not an excuse, but i really believe marcus is just puppy-dogging his way forward and is just like “can i help? that thing is three feet above your head, but it’s at my eye line so i can grab it!” and sydney struggling with all her might is like “nah! i got it!” even though she clearly doesn’t got it.

the continuation of the tomato mystery!!! mikey was buying tiny little cans? even though the bigger cans are cheaper per ounce? whatta mysteryyyyyyyyyy????? (more on that later)

the short back and forth between carmy and ebra *chefs kiss*! again, ebra is criminally underused! even more so in season two (more on THAT later). but “english carmen!” “the more i understand about michael, the less i understand. rest in peace, young man” “who cares? we don’t use tomatoes anyway”. there’s nothing abundantly funny in the lines, but ebra’s delivery is just PERFECT

the conversation between carmy and sydney, specifically the conversation continually being interrupted, is just spot on. i don’t think i had a single meeting or important conversation with someone when i worked service industry that wasn’t continually interrupted by a million things. seriously, gang….management in service industry is just a fucking lot.

i think carmy’s idea makes a lot of sense, and also has some context to it. even in episode one carmy says he wants to start defining roles in the shop. i get sydney’s hesitancy because of her history in restaurants, and carmy does a bad job explaining his reasoning behind it. but if you’re dealing with a chaotic shit show, isn’t part of the answer introducing some order?

THAT BEING SAID: the moment sydney agrees to running the kitchen in this new system and carmy says let’s go is SO SHITTY. it might be one of the worst things carmy does in the whole show. reordering an entire restaurants workflow, when some of the staff have been there for DECADES, and putting the responsibility on the newest hire, and then telling her the moment she agrees that it’s gonna happen that instant and she’s going to be running the meeting where is being announced...it’s stupidity to the utmost extreme. i know carmy isn’t trying to be shitty, but FUCK dude. that is SHITTY.

“yo, carm the phone ringing” ….no shit marcus. it’s been ringing all morning, in carmy’s office. where carmy just came from. again, it’s probably a writers technique to show us that the phone ringing is something that we should have on our mind, because this shows sound design is very intentional, and it’s possible we could subconsciously think that the phone ringing is only meant to add to the chaotic sounds of the shop. but when thought of practically…carmy can probably hear the phone marcus.

once again, carmy talking about harnessing their gifts, organizing the special thing the whole team has. in my opinion he is coming from a place of respect, and love for these people (many of whom he has known for years) and wants to give them a chance that life has denied them because he knows they can rise to the occasion if given the chance. but i can also see where people could argue carmy is white-savioring, or “my fair lady”-ing, or some other toxic thing. but i do think carmy is going about this with the right intentions, and not as “i’m better than these peasants, they need my help”

what a weak pun by richie. escoffier/scoffi-gay. weak. i mean, yea, also homophobic and offensive. but what a crime to name puns. come on richie.

i wonder if it means anything that as richie makes the joke, the camera is on angel and he looks sort of annoyed and displeased at richie. we’re two seasons in without knowing much about angel, it could just be a camera cut to make the scene more interesting and dynamic, but for some reason angel is looking at richie and he doesn’t look happy

“i was in a brigade once” “what happened?” “many people died” GOD, EBRA! so funny! but also, fuck, that’s tragic dude! but then carmy’s “…o-okay, this is gonna be different”. is delivered so well. just the air of “i didn’t think i’d have to be telling people that a french cooking brigade would be different than a somalian army brigade…”

“like hierarchy!” “more like a regular chill-archy…” syd is so awkward, and this is one of those scenes where you close your eyes and groan because you wish she was anything but awkward. the writing, the acting. god, so good!

“i’m the sous, right? which means i just follow orders even if it leads to tension, and chaos and resentment and ultimately doesn’t work. but yeah, that’s what i do.” is SO GOOD. if any good person has ever been in a management position before, they KNOW that’s the eternal power struggle between owners and staff. and is also why i think the service industry desperately needs to unionize. because far, far, far too often managers have to voice something from ownership that fucks over the staff because part of their job is just to do as they are told, much like how staffs job is to follow orders from management. and it sucks! and if a good person is not careful, they follow orders and ignore their conscious and walk right off a cliff and suddenly they’re in a viral video talking to camera’s about how their staff deserve to work minimum wage without being allowed bathroom breaks for 12 hour shifts and how child labor laws are ruining this country, all because they’re just doing what the owners are saying and they forget that they’re in charge of actual human beings.

“chef de partie?” “yes” “…i accept!” GOD EBRA!!! i would die for ebra.

i love with the camerawork that from richies face we know something isn’t quite on the level with niko. we don’t know what (yet) but his face says “damnit niko, why are you calling? don’t mess this up for me and get me in trouble.” that’s added to by the subtle “i’ll hit him” from richie. he means “i’ll hit him back” as in “i’ll get back in touch with him and talk” but by cutting out the “back” it sounds a little more threatening: “i’ll hit him”, “i’ll punch him, because he’s gonna get me in trouble.”

also, it’s so beautiful and sad that carmy can’t see richie’s face. because he says that it felt like mikey was alive for a second. and richie looks like “i know exactly what you mean” but richie also looks like he’s saying “i can’t deal with that right now; because i’m barely holding on myself, so i can’t carry you too.” so richie says “no thanks” and carmy is just left to believe richie doesn’t care about him. just more assholery from richie. but we the audience know, oh, richie is broken.

i think the show does a decent job of showing anxiety and panic this season. BUT i think they go above and beyond in season two. the ringing and grabbing his heart is good, but season two really helps channel the anxiety

peep the crisp white sneakers on carmy’s feet as he walks into the church for al-anon. i know jeremy allen white is a sneaker boy, and i wonder if those shoes are just jeremy’s, or if they also wanted to give carmy some sick sneaks to go along with his denim love

quick peep at syd’s japanese knife. much like carmy’s japenese knives. i don’t know if anyone reading this knows about different countries knife philosophies and how their knives are designed to suit that philosophy (maybe philosophy is too strong a word…), but it’s interesting that carmy and sydney share a similar knife

ah, hiding in the walk-in because you need a moment to yourself to stop yourself from crying. i miss it and also don’t miss it. you know? maybe that’s ptsd? the scene is all the better because syd goes into the walk-in talking to the team with the most empty cadence a person can have. she’s saying what she’s supposed to be saying but she doesn’t believe a word of it herself. which also means the team doesn’t believe a word she says

ok. there’s very few good things to say about tina up to this point, which is probably why i haven’t talked about her much. but the fact that she clearly has so much beef with syd, but still she goes into shop-mom mode the moment sydney gets a cut. i just love it. every shop has a shop-mom and every shop needs a shop mom. tina is one of my favorite characters, of all time, and her journey is so well done this season.

and of course sydney doesn’t help anything by getting defensive and once again trying to prove how good and tough she is, instead of just accepting the care and help she needs.

and….of coooourse tina goes from trying to help sydney to then immediately turning the heat up on her stock and sabotaging her. because tina might be the shop mom, but sydney is annoying her, and trying to change everything, and so shop mom goes mama bear on her and fucks with her.

sloppiest “assumed” drug deal ever between richie and niko. like they’re looking around and trying not to get caught and somehow they miss that carmy is RIGHT THERE

here again with syd’s burnt stock, carmy is a little bit of an asshole. obviously we think he’s being more of an asshole than he is, because we know sydney is having a hard time being the sous in the shop with everyone against her, but carmy doesn’t. to carmy, he put the only highly skilled chef in charge while he left, and he gets back and no one is doing what they should AND sydney is (seemingly) making rookie mistakes which she should know better than to make. so he does get a little angry at her, and even from his prospective he could have been less intense, BUT from his view it’s like “how did you mess this up? this is cooking 101”.

again too, when sydney’s trying to explain that tina should be on onions, but tina’s on lemons and carmy just wants her to say “yes, chef” and do the onions…i have mixed feelings on. because, once again, we the audience know that carmy is being an asshole and not helping sydney’s already shitty day. but carmy doesn’t know about sydney’s shitty day (which is also his fault), and to his credit sydney trying to explain that she has tried to get tina to what she’s been told and tina isn’t listening sounds a lot more like whining than explaining. there are times and places, and right after being scolded for burning your stock is not the time to try and explain that the real problem is actually not you, but tina. is carmy ultimately way in the wrong? yeah! but he’s asking syd to say “yes” and in the moment she should have just said “yes”. your bosses makes mistakes, and when they’re telling you something, it’s not the best time to show that they’re wrong and you’re right. sometimes you just gotta say yes, and hate them in your head. and if they’re a good boss (like carmy is) you then go and talk to them when things are calmer. they have that moment later in the episode when things are calmer.

i’m not trying to say that people just have to put up with angry shit from their bosses…but in a moment of stress, ESPECIALLY when you’re in the service industry, sometimes you just gotta nod your head, take whatever they say, and curse them in your head. because in a heated and hectic moment in a shop, you’re not gonna convince them of the nuanced issues going on. that has to come later when things calm down and they have a clear head.

knowing that the hands that are prepping the food are actually syd’s and carmy’s hands (i know the actors have names, i’m sticking with syd and carmy) never ceases to amaze me. especially in the scene where syd preps the onions, because you can really tell she got skilled at it. with carmy they cut back and forth and so they can make us think he’s moving faster than he is, but they had a long shot of sydney just cutting, and she was zooming through. (the gif below is carmy because i was struggling to find a gif of syd cutting)

i always wanna know why the suqaar isn’t good? like, it’s so bad that sydney is near revolted. because ebra says it with such pride and confidence, carmy seems excited by it. but then when sydney tries it she’s so disgusted. was it actually that bad? or was sydney just in such a bad place that nothing could taste good?

those lowboys are SO gross. i have nothing else to say, really. just real bad.

it’s rather unprofessional that when “someone” took sydney’s onions she bursts out of the kitchen to the front of house, WHILE richie is hanging out and talking to a customer, to yell at him asking where her onions are. richie is working. obviously hanging out with customers might not seem much like working, but that’s front of house (FOH) shit right there. and to yell in front of a customer (which she and richie have been doing a lot in this episode) is just unprofessional from someone trained in the way of fine dining.

the small detail of syd having her overwhelmingly bad day, and when she goes into carmy’s office he’s just sitting there, and then the first thing he says is “we should be outsourcing bread”, which was 1) in her 30 page packet last episode, and 2) talked about just a few hours ago in the team meeting carmy skipped out on. it would be beyond frustrating. and we know that carmy is actually working, like, the guy stays late to hand scrub the floor, so he’s really working. but it just looks like he’s chilling while syd is running around, and that doesn’t help her boiling rage and panic.

the most painful thing is the world is sydney yelling at marcus about him offering to help her with something again, to the point that her hand is shaking and her eyes are bulging…and then he leaves and she dumps it all over herself. i’ve never been a woman in a male dominated workspace, but i have been someone who really wants to prove themself, and to then have it blow up in my face, especially if it LITERALLY blows up in my face like it does to syd, and the added shame of knowing you wasted a bunch of money (veal fat isn’t free), is stay-awake-at-night-reliving-that-moment kind of painful.

but, it’s also so sweet, and so relatable of marcus to come in after hearing the spill, to sydney standing there covered in her own mistake, and to wordlessly leave and come back with towels and help her. everyone in the world needs a marcus.

that first inkling of seeing HUGE payments to KBL electric! my brain was just like “oh shit, mikey was laundering HARD”

i love the scene where marcus tells syd that family dinner is ready, when syd walks out of frame we stay for just a moment on tina. tina cleaning her station. because to me i think it’s easy to assume, well, she obviously has to clean her station at some point while working, so it’s now. but after having a few back and forth moments with syd in the episode, where syd specifically asked her to clean up, i think it means something that tina is finally cleaning up. and knowing the arc she goes through in the next episode, i think this is like a seed being planted showing us that even tina is slowly being changed by the new system that carmy and syd are implementing in the beef.

i know that this is like the tiniest detail, that has also been talked about SO MUCH by people in the restaurant industry. but carmy drinking out of a plastic container hits to good every time i see it. i’m 29, i haven’t worked in food-food in like 8 years, and i still love using those containers as water glasses. THEY HOLD SO MUCH, plus you get them for free if you order pho from my favorite restaurant (and most restaurants where you’re ordering soup to go) so it’s like an added treat with my pho.

i do think it’s important that carmy can tell something is wrong with syd. only because he’s been so single minded for three whole episodes. missing cues from the people around him about the pain they’re in. i know there’s a lot of discourse on here about if the relationship between syd and carm is moving towards romantic, or showing the depths of a truly deep and trusting friendship/business partnership, either way i don’t care if the writing and performances are good. but it’s important to note that this is the first time carmy has looked outside of himself/the restaurant at someone else and noticed them for real. he went to find syd, and upon seeing her body language asked her what was wrong. obviously, most of what was wrong is because of him, but he still tried to make it better and showed that he’s the kind of boss who actually cares and is trying to create the best working environment for his staff as possible. he’s just human and struggles at doing it.

i’ve read a few people say it’s shitty that carmy admits to being harder on sydney than everyone else in the shop, but i really don’t think so. no one else has gone to school for cooking. no one else but syd can comprehend most of what carmy says or even understand his vision for the place. syd has been at the beef for a few days/weeks/maybe a month or so? and she’s now the number two over people who have been there for decades. so i don’t think it’s outrageous that carmy holds sydney to a higher standard. or is more upset when she sinks to richie’s level to yell at him, or when she isn’t able to properly make a stock. once again, i’m not trying to excuse carmy’s bad behavior, but my first day in a kitchen i was treated with baby gloves, but when i was a supervisor, and in charge of training people in, i would never hear the end if i messed up something simple. because i knew better, and carmy knows that sydney knows better.

i think it’s worth noting that sydney says “i think this place could be so different than the other places we’ve been at.” she says “we’ve been at”. not “i’ve been at.” she’s assuming, and assuming correctly, that carmy has also been in some terrible kitchens. and she’s assuming, and assuming correctly, that carmy is also really tired of it

i think it’s probably only really tv magic that we’re in episode three and sydney feels comfortable to tell carmy that she wants to partner with him in making the beef better, but that he also has to listen to her ideas. that’s a lot of trust in the emotional maturity and headspace of a boss that you haven’t really had any previous emotional connection with. like we haven’t really seen her and carmy connect or have a mutual understanding of the other. we haven’t seen him give syd a reason to think that he wants her to partner with him in improving the beef, or that he’s all that interested in listening to her ideas. HOWEVER this scene works because we know carmy so well already, and we know syd really well, and their chemistry sells it. so she basically says she wants to talk freely with her boss and be heard and listened to and instead of him shutting her down like 90% of bosses would do, he says “you’re absolutely right, and i agree.”

and for her leap of faith, we see carmy open up to her! carmy opened up! he’s trying to work through his gunk! it’s so good!

FUCK BRUNCH

ok. i love brunch. but i hated working brunch. it’s the worst shift in the world.

the scene where carmy comes out of the beef on a break, cigarette hanging from his lip, his hair a particular kind of wild, to listen to sugar’s voicemail…that is the vibe and look i have wanted to replicate from the moment i saw him, and i have no idea how to show the person who cuts my hair because the look is just “sweat and grease” and that’s a hard ask in a salon chair.

i like the flow of learning its michael’s birthday, with us returning to the beach with carmy. because it makes the fact that carmy heard mikey say “let it rip, dude” more powerful. carmy is thinking of mikey on his birthday, carmy’s been thinking of mikey all day, and it’s been nagging at him and weighing on him and everything he has said and done has been because today hurts worse than most other days have.

the question then becomes: timeline-wise, is carmy at the beach the same scene that started the show? we know that only a day has passed, did carmy wake up and go to the beach, and then after work go to the beach again? i’m sure someone with more attention to detail could tell me if the sun is in the same position in both scenes, or if the sun is on the opposite side of the sky in one from the other. but it mirrors the opening so much that it kinda feels like we opened on either the beginning of the day, or the end of the day, and now we’re closing on that same visit to the beach, to remind us of that trip and to put the day into a greater context with mikey’s birthday. if i had to bet, i would bet that both scenes happen at sunrise, because we have a shot of the shop while the dinner rush is happening and it’s dark outside. like past sunset dark. we know they close late, like 10/11pm late. which is far after sunset. so if carmy is walking outside while there is a sliver of light, it’s probably sunrise.

UFFDA, i love this episode. i feel like it slowed way down (except for that one scene during a lunch rush), and amped up both the emotional ante, and the comedy. the next episode to me is like a mid-season finale, because it wraps up some major themes and storylines and opens up some new ones, but we’ll talk more about that in episode four!

Season One: Episode 1 | Episode 2 | Episode 4 | Episode 5 | Episode 6 | Episode 7 | Episode 8 |

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Footsteps of a Stranger

Written in 2019 to be part of an anthology that I don't think ever quite got off the ground. Spawned a good character, tho. Short story that I broke up into chunks for Tumblr. Inspired by the Noir Princesses art by Ástor Alexander.

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WC Total: 6289 -Part 1, 628 -Part 2, 1276 -Part 3, 1163 -Part 4, 686 -Part 5, 1851 -Part 6, 685

Warnings: Guns

Summary: A PI is on the case to discover who has been setting forest fires. And little non-human help never hurts, right?

“Blue?” I called her name for the tenth time, wandering through the heart of the forest. “Where are you?”

A cold wind blew across my back, the hairs on my neck instantly rising from the chill. It was inexplicably cold for the season, and I knew why.

“Quit playing around, Blue,” I shouted. The wind grew to a low moan, enough to shake the trees and shower me with leaves. I shrugged my shoulders, turning around. “Alright, fine. I had a puzzle for you, but if you’re not interested…”

The forest immediately died down, the cold vanishing into a humid mist. Something formed inside the mist, not completely but enough to see a humanoid shape about as tall as a child, with small points of light emanating from where the eyes should have been. There she was: Blue. The resident wind sprite.

“...puz-zle?” The word was whispered through the branches with the slightest brush of wind, a chill accompanying the breath. Blue stared, waiting.

I turned, hand on hip. “Forest fires around here. All the land was ‘owned’ by a company claiming preservation, so it’s hard to see why they’d set fire to their cause. The latest fire held the body of an earth sprite, iron cuff around the wrist. There are also humans getting harmed and killed when they won’t give up their homes to said company, which winds up buying the land anyway. Here’s the puzzle: is this a human-against-human problem or a human-against-sprite problem?”

"Both," she breathed. "Or neither. Related?"

"Everything's related," I snorted. "I'm just not sure how these events are related.”

A puff of air swished from one side to the other, Blue shaking her head. Or maybe that was supposed to be hair. “No. Related to you.”

“Me?”

“Nevermind.” A short sigh made the trees sag from the wind, Blue’s form wavering before coming upright again. “Company comes into forest where sprites live. Sprites cause trouble. Men leave, come back with cuffs to trap sprites. Remove the problem. They like removing problems.”

“So why the fires?”

“One problem they can’t remove.” Blue stumbled on that last word, her form shifting as the mist began to clear. “Old wound keeps coming undone. Open scratches. Some wounds must be burnt away.” The mist cleared, her form evaporating with a blast of air. “Bor-ring puz-zle,” the wind moaned. “Bohr-ring Puz-zle!!”

I was already on my way out, leaving the forest behind in a hurry. Blue liked puzzles, but if she found them boring enough she would throw a tantrum, sometimes in the form of tornadic cyclones. While she was busy wailing about my puzzle being a boring one, I was already on the path leading back to the city. She had given me some clues, but I wanted to see what Thomas came up with before trying to draw the complete picture.

Thankfully, we ran into each other in the middle of the street.

“Oh,” he puffed, “good, I found you.” Short gasps of air inserted themselves between words. Made me wonder what he was doing between here and there. “Meeks had...nothing. Wasted perfectly good...cookies.” He took a deep breath to steady himself, standing straight. “Flint was more help. He didn’t know anything about the fires, but heard something on the street about the Virginia Company hiding toxic waste in nearby forests−apparently to the point of poison. Flint remembers a few sick orphans in the house when he got there, and no one could pinpoint anything aside from said poison.”

“Interesting,” I muttered, “but it doesn’t really draw a complete image.”

“Except the sick ones warned him not to go in the forest or drink any water coming from the river. That’s how they got whatever they got.”

I nodded, motioning for him to follow. “Alright, then. One last bit of snooping and we should be able to see the bottom of this barrel.”

He immediately was a clip on my heels. “Where are we going?”

I tugged out a business card and flipped it to face him. “Where erosion likes to show itself: to the very head of the beast.”

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[Part 5]

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You��re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[buffysummers]

Oh, hello there, gentle viewers. Today, I’m finally going to discuss why the claim of “I only ship Spuffy in season seven” is, in fact, still not okay and deeply flawed.

Before I jump into this, I just want to preface this by saying that we should ALL be allowed to like what we like, EVEN if it’s garbage or toxic. We all have that One Ship™ or that One Character™ that we’d risk it all for, even if we know they’re evil/etc. There is NOTHING wrong with enjoying bleak, dark and disturbing fiction. Fiction is a great way to escape reality and explore the darker, grittier, more twisted aspects of life with no real consequences, because, you know, it isn’t real. 

HOWEVER, a lot of people have a hard time drawing a line, especially when fiction often explores very real issues, such as abuse and rape. This brings me to the Buffy and Spike, “Spuffy,” problem and why we cannot just simply write off Spuffy as fiction because this dynamic explores very real issues that happen to people everyday, and when we see people excusing rape and abuse, that’s when the not-so-real fiction becomes a very real and serious issue. That’s when rape and abuse survivors start to feel uncomfortable or triggered. Or when people that (thankfully) haven’t experienced these terrible realities feel confused and also a bit appalled. Here’s a bit of juxtaposition to better elaborate on this point: a human being cannot be emotionally/romantically/etc involved with a 200+ vampire because vampires ARE NOT real. But a human being can definitely be abused and raped. That is not fantasy. It’s real life.

Ok, I’m almost about to dive in. But I also want to add that I am addressing this because I have received a lot of anons from Spuffies defending their ship and claiming that they don’t ship Buffy and Spike in season six (which is probably a lie since half of the Spuffy edit tag is gifs from season six lol) but only in season seven, where Spike “gets a soul” for Buffy. Since like 70% of the Buffy fandom is up Spike and Spuffy’s ass, I don’t really expect many people to read this. But I am just really tired and I need to get this out of my system. Plus, analyzing fiction is rewarding in so many ways.

Now I’m actually going to start, and there’s nowhere else to start but from the beginning, where Spike allegedly gets a soul for Buffy after he attempts to rape her, so that he “can be the kind of man who would never—” I use the word allegedly, because here’s some quotes from Spike right as he leaves town to “get his soul”:

It's the chip! Steel and wires and silicon. It won't let me be a monster. And I can't be a man. I'm nothing. 

Get nice and comfy, Slayer. I'll be back. And when I do ... things are gonna change. [sidenote: this line and the previous line are a bit vague and open to interpretation, and COULD be referring to him getting a soul. But the manner in which the lines are delivered, with so much anger and loathing, do not indicate he is going to do something good, like say, getting your soul.] 

DEMON: Something about a woman. The slayer. SPIKE: Thinks she's better than me. Ever since I got this bleeding chip in my head, things ain't been right. Everything's gone to hell. 

Bitch is gonna see a change. 

Got any more ruddy tests for me, you ponce? I'll take anything you can throw at me, if it'll get me what I need to take care of the Slayer. Give her what's coming to her. [sidenote: again, he says this angrily, and the script reflects this as well.] 

So you'll give me what I want. Make me what I was. So Buffy can get what she deserves.

Ok, so the last line is, of course, pretty ambiguous. The writers even said that they intentionally tried to throw off the audience and make them BELIEVE that Spike was trying to get his chip removed. But they were a little too convincing, so the twist does not feel earned. It would be one thing if these lines were written and delivered in a different way. Maybe with conflict and regret. But he refers to her as a bitch multiple times, and says every line with malice. Now, say this were a courtroom and this were a murder trial. Intent matters, intent always matters. Intent often can make or break a case. The most logical way to read these lines is that Spike INTENDED to get his chip removed because the text best supports this conclusion, but the demon saw through him. So, even though the demon understood the internal conflict better than Spike clearly did, he did not go through those trials to get his soul. And that is why, to this day, fans of the show still don’t think he went to get his soul back for her. 

For argument’s sake, maybe if he really DID intend to get his soul back, and we just completely sidestep all the references to his chip, he still isn’t getting his soul with good intentions (takes us back to: intent! matters!).  Maybe he’s getting his soul “for her” but the way the scenes are written, with such malice and anger, coupled with the fact that Spike is STILL soulless and incapable of doing anything for purely selfless reasons, he is not getting his soul for romantic and valiant reasons. 

The soul aspect is obviously very important because this is basically what causes Buffy to forgive Spike. When she first sees him in season seven, she is rightfully angry. She says things like: “Everything about you is wrong, Spike” and “You tried to rape me. I don’t have the words.” She can tell he is withholding information from her (especially because she found him crazy in the basement) and is skeptical about his intentions.  But then he makes that speech to her in “Beneath You” which I’m quoting from the script:

SPIKE: Am I flesh? Am I flesh to you? Feed on flesh. My flesh. Nothing else. Not a spark. (nods) Oh, fine. Flesh then. Solid through. (starts unzipping his pants) Get it hard; service the girl. 

BUFFY: This is all you get. I'm listening. Tell me what happened. SPIKE: I tried to find it, of course. BUFFY: Find what? SPIKE: The spark. The missing... the piece that fit. That would make me fit. Because you didn't want... (starts to cry) God, I can't... Not with you looking. 

SPIKE: I dreamed of killing you. I think they were dreams. So weak. Did you make me weak, thinking of you, holding myself, and spilling useless buckets of salt over your... ending? Angel—he should've warned me. He makes a good show of forgetting, but it's here, in me, all the time. The spark. I wanted to give you what you deserve, and I got it. They put the spark in me and now all it does is burn. 

BUFFY: You got your soul back. How? SPIKE: It's what you wanted, right? And—and now everybody's in here, talking. Everything I did...everyone I— and him... and it... the other, the thing beneath—beneath you. It's here too. Everybody. They all just tell me go... go... to hell. BUFFY: Why? Why would you do that— SPIKE: Buffy, shame on you. Why does a man do what he mustn't? For her. To be hers. To be the kind of man who would nev— to be a kind of man.

This is all very important because before Buffy found out that Spike got his soul back “for her,” she wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, only a few scenes earlier in the same episode, he makes a joke about the fact that it was their first contact since he tried to rape her.

So, while Spuffies like to prop up Spike getting his soul for Buffy as a very romantic and amazing gesture, there isn’t good evidence in the show to support that he was getting it back for her, and also, that it was used as a manipulation tactic. Now, suddenly, Buffy feels conflicted about holding Spike accountable for anything he did to her, and she feels pressured into forgiving him because he :/ got :/ his :/ SOUL :/ for her. And now he’s crazy in the basement!

Moving on from that. Now Spike has a soul and he got it for Buffy and Buffy knows that. Now the writers make Spike the victim of The First, which makes it much easier for the audience to sympathize with him, and thus forget that he literally tried to rape the show’s titular heroine. Spike is in danger, Spike doesn’t have free will, Spike is now important to Buffy’s mission because he clearly has been under the influence of The First, so therefore he is valuable to Buffy’s mission. So, now she must get close to Spike to learn more about the thing from beneath them that plans to devour them all. [for reference: 7.08]

This leads us to “Never Leave Me” where Spike victimizes himself, and shames Buffy. Here’s an exchange between Buffy and Spike: 

BUFFY: How did you do it? How'd you get your soul back?  

SPIKE: Saw a man about a girl. (sighs) I went to seek a legend out. Traveled to the other side of the world, made a deal with a demon.

BUFFY: Just like that?  

SPIKE: No, not just like that. There was a price. There were trials, torture, pain and suffering... of sorts.  

BUFFY: Of sorts?  

SPIKE: Well, it's all relative, isn't it?  

BUFFY: Meaning?  

SPIKE: Meaning I have come to redefine the words pain and suffering since I fell in love with you.  

BUFFY: (sighs) How can you say that?  

SPIKE: Apparently, I just slaughtered half of Sunnydale, pet. I'm not really worried about being polite anymore.  

BUFFY: (nods) So, that's what this is about. (stands, crosses arms) You feeling sorry for yourself, Spike?  

SPIKE: I'm feeling honest with myself. You used me.  

BUFFY: Yes.  

SPIKE: You told me that, of course. I never understood it though. Not until now. You hated yourself, and you took it out on me.

I think Buffy puts it pretty nicely when she says, “You feeling sorry for yourself, Spike?” Because in this scene, he completely ignores the damage that he did to Buffy (which, YES, it’s in season six, but he is ENSOULED while doing this) and instead says that she used him. Which is kind of pointless to bring up because he also says “you told me that, of course” so therefore the only reason WHY he brings this up is to victimize himself and make her feel guilty about it. It’s important to note that Spike still has not apologized for trying to rape her, by the way.

So, this leads us to how Buffy’s character arc suffers so that the writers can instead evoke sympathy for Spike from the audience. Here are some totally, and extremely, out of character things Buffy does in season seven (and actually all of her OOC moments are because of Spike):

Buffy agrees to let Dawn stay with Spike in 6.20 immediately after he tried to rape her. This is the same Buffy that literally sacrificed her life to save Dawn, by the way. Dawn is the most important person in Buffy’s life. But yeah, she’d TOTALLY let Dawn stay with Spike so he could “protect” her. (yes, this is season six but it’s too important not to note, seeing as it’s her most OOC moment in the entire series). 

Buffy doesn’t immediately dust Spike in 7.08 despite the fact that she just discovered that he’s being controlled by The First and slaughtered a dozen+ women. You can make the argument that she doesn’t dust him because he may have valuable intel, and that’s a pretty good argument. But still, it just doesn’t seem like something Buffy would do. (SIDENOTE: Just wanna add more to this point. She almost killed Anya three episodes prior because Anya slaughtered some frat guys. Anya even acknowledges and understands WHY Buffy has to kill her. Buffy later defends her choice and compares it to when she had to kill Angel, where she says verbatim, “I loved him more than I will ever love anything in this life.” You’re telling me that now she isn’t capable of killing Spike despite the fact that he’s been MURDERING girls for weeks? Yes, this is different from the situation with Anya because Spike didn’t have free will, but Buffy is often a little self-righteous, and innocent women being murdered doesn’t really seem like something she’d sweep under the rug, especially given how unstable Spike is. He is much more of a liability than an asset to her mission, at this point.)

In 7.09, Spike basically BEGS Buffy to kill him. He even asks her: have you ever really asked yourself why you can’t do it [kill him]? This frames him as the noble guy, the selfless hero, while she defends his actions and looks dumb while doing so. We’re SUPPOSED to be on Spike’s side in this scene because Buffy, despite having no real reason not to, refuses to kill him and ignores all the damage he’s done, the damage he readily admits to. He’s essentially admitting he’s done terrible things but not expecting any consequences because Buffy is being written, well, entirely out of character. She makes excuses for his actions. It’s like going to confession, you say what you’ve done, and suddenly you’re forgiven. Because, OF COURSE, Buffy would ignore the fact that he’s a liability to her, the girls, and her mission to save the world. 

Buffy is more concerned about rescuing Spike from the cave in 7.11 rather than dusting the turok-han that is an immediate threat to her safety and literally the entire world, seeing as the turok-han is The First’s weapon and its mission is to destroy the Slayer line which destroys the balance between good and evil, which will then allow The First to overrun the earth.

Buffy lets Spike live in the house with all the potentials despite knowing that he has a trigger that can be activated at any time by The First. 7.12-7.17. But ESPECIALLY in 7.17 when she sees it activated in front of her very eyes and yet decides to unchain him. Giles tries to reason with Buffy that she is putting their entire cause at risk and all of their lives at risk as a result, but she simply doesn’t care. Buffy has never been stupid, but she looks pretty stupid here (hence, the OOC aspect), especially because she has no rebuttal to his argument. Dawn is also injured by Spike in this scene and instead of going upstairs with her, she stays with Spike. 

Buffy says she will let Spike kill Wood because she has a mission to save the world. Now, I don’t have *as much* of an issue with this because I see Buffy’s point a little, seeing as the fate of the world is more important than vendettas and Spike, now free of his trigger, is a valuable asset to her army. But she would never just sit by and let an innocent human get murdered lol.

This leads me to the conclusion of: If you have to change almost everything about a character to make a ship make sense, it’s probably not a very good ship.

The writers also continue to isolate Buffy from the rest of the group. Enough where Buffy says in 7.19: “You sent away the one person [Spike] that’s been watching my back.” So, let’s unpack this. Here are the ways in which Spike has had Buffy’s back up until that point in the season:

He shows up last minute to help her save Cassie in 7.04 

He goes on outings with her and the potentials while she trains them in 7.12

Here are some group efforts he made (meaning, he wasn’t the only one helping Buffy):

He helps get the love spell jacket with Xander in 7.06 

He helps shut down the seal in 7.16 with Buffy, Wood and Andrew after the rest of the gang helped research.

A moment where Buffy could have really used his support:

In 7.15 when Buffy calls Chloe weak and everyone starts to gang up on her and call her out of line, he chooses to leave.

The Golden Rule, aka “show, don’t tell” is an important writing technique that we should all follow when writing literally anything. Here, season seven fails on this front, again. Just because Buffy SAYS Spike is the one person that’s had her back does not automatically make it ring true. In fact, there’s no evidence to support that claim by Buffy. [sidenote: he does have her back BIG time in 7.20, but again, that doesn’t undo the fact that when Buffy said that line, it literally wasn’t true at all. It just shows you how the writing isn’t there to support these claims. It’s all empty words used to manipulate the audience into thinking this relationship is more than it actually is.]

There’s more I could say, of course, but this is already so long. My main point is that the writers in season seven do not let Buffy heal, they do not let Buffy process her trauma whatsoever. Instead, they emotionally blackmail her via Spike getting a soul for her, victimize Spike, and have her make very dumb, irrational and OOC decisions to justify her feelings for him. Buffy is a very forgiving person, it’s true, but they do not let her acknowledge or address her trauma. So, seeing her coddle Spike just simply does not make sense, especially when season six is all we have to fallback on for their “relationship” which wasn’t, in fact, a relationship at all (Buffy even says to Spike in 7.20 that they were never close.) Honestly, you can’t really entirely separate season six and season seven Spuffy because their supposed connection, their history and her reluctance to kill him or let him go is entirely built on what happened between them prior to season seven.

The abuse in season seven is a lot more subtle, and it’s mostly verbal and emotional abuse, but it is STILL abuse. And it STILL shouldn’t be supported or romanticized. Like Spuffy all you want, but justifying this is just plain wrong and harmful for so many reasons. Just use your brain before you say something that could potentially trigger, offend or harm someone that has experienced this firsthand. Victim blaming is very real and happens everyday, and it happens to Buffy repeatedly throughout season seven.

[unpopularly-opinionated]

I don’t play WoW but I used to play Overwatch and Diablo and this touches on just the general issues that are inside of Activision Blizzard right now regarding the major decline of World of Warcraft and how they’re losing to Final Fantasy XIV, how if the latest WoW expansion or Overwatch 2 flop as they’re projected to do then Blizzard’s most definitely going to pivot almost entirely to mobile games, and how the differences in age demographics are actually dividing the company into multiple camps.

It’s important to note two things: 1) this could be fake but also 2) the link came from Grummz, a former team lead on WoW and producer on Diablo II and Starcraft. It still could be fake despite this, but if he’s sharing it then I feel like there’s at least some measure of truth in this.

Transcription below in case this gets deleted and/or you don’t wanna click the link. Warning, it’s fairly long.

“I’m dropping this here after getting chewed out for three hours over shit the chewee did at work so fuck it. Assume larp and let me vent.”

>Shadowlands is a shitshow. Critical response, Player drop off and just about every engagement metric outside of cash shop have been catastrophic. No higher up expected this because of their “we are too big to fail, if we built it they will come” mentality. They refuse to accept their focus on the world being a begrudged mechanic to funnel players to raiding is not appealing to the player base at large because it appeals to them. They have spent the last 4 months trying to course correct but there is no solid direction and the response to 9.1 has only made things worse.

>Sylvanas is planned to replace the Arbiter despite so many people in the company and god knows how many online saying this would be a total replication of Kerrigans storyline in Starcraft 2 that killed none competitive interest in the brand entirely and you can only go “no, no they WILL like it eventually” for so many real world years before its time to change course. Thus far that has not happened.

>The elephant in the room is FFXIV. To the people in charge they are acting like this came out of nowhere and don’t even seem to understand why its drawing players away in their tens of thousands. We have all tried to highlight things it is doing that are clearly appealing to an mmo audience and not, in my opinion, focussing more on mobile game style retention traps to keep MAU users and habit forming personalities logging in. Its not that they don’t care. They just seem so pig headed and digging their heels in with their fingers in their ears thinking all the problems will go away because WoW is “too big to fail”, there will never be real competition and “they will keep coming back”. But they aren’t coming back anymore. Not in the numbers they used to.

>The people making the spending choices know this. The new model for WoW is market the hell out of a expansion pack for a huge quarter then use 6 month lock ins to pad numbers for the quarters after that. Even if corona had not happened 9.1 still would have been dropping after the initial 6 month subs expired to “keep the chain holding”.

>The mood in the company is tense but also very much “its just a rough transition period”. Activision has been pushing hard for Blizzard to release more regular product and to generate more income per user. As far as i know this is going to be a transition over the next 5 years to a much larger mobile/tablet gaming focus. By all accounts not just WoW but Overwatch was intended to be the moneymaker in the interim but once again someone had the bright idea to kill a game casual players loved on the alter of e-sports hoping for another Brood War. From what i hear the “told you so’s” were loud and a lot of people walked beyond Kaplan.

>The sentiment that was shared quietly in private but being spoken more often is simply that the leadership at Blizzard are not bad people, nor incompetent people but people who had to fill seats left when the old guard jumped ship wether they were suited for it or not. Brack is a genuinely good man out of his depth, Ion is a fantastic raid designer put in charge of designing a virtual world he has no interest or real ideas for and so on. They have been taking form the roles they excel at to be put in positions where they get to do far less of that purely because there is nobody left with the experience to do so and the trickle down is a lack of concrete direction, ambition and focus.

>2021 has seen the playerbase, media and gaming at large “turn” on WoW to a degree i don’t think the leads in their “positivity dojo” bubble considered possible. Its gone from people going “This is how Blizz needs to fix WoW!” to “WoW is no longer salvageable, time for greener pastures” and i think on some level this was never considered as a possibility so there have never been any major plans beyond the usual “try and minimise player drop off by arranging releases around competitors launching updates/products”. The official forums being filled with talk of FFXIV and worse “why do we actually pay a sub?” hasn’t helped.

>There have been some testing the waters lately from certain higher ups if we can remove the line “No King Rules Forever”. Read into that what you will.

>There are still arguments going on about the Kael’thas Voice actor shitshow. I don’t know much about it but i know its heated, wouldn’t be the first time a knee jerk reaction only seemed to generate bad press. We lost a noticeable amount of pvp engagement after the Swifty thing.

>The Preach interview was treated as a disaster and there was talk of more strongly vetting interviewers for “bad actors” and only engaging with a list of questions Blizzard provides. Some pointed out that could just be used to create some form of Fireside Chat akin to the FFXIV “Live letters” but that fell on deaf ears.

>The two sentiments right now among the team are either “we really need a win” or “theres a dedicated cabal of internet trolls out to kill WoW”. Right now we are crunching hard to get 9.2 ready to wrap up the jailors storyline so we can get an expansion out early 2022. If that doesn’t happen there are talks of major shakeups coming down from Activision that have been threatened for a few  years now. Its an all hands on deck feeling thats been around to some degree since the “Is this an out of season April Fools Joke” Blizzcon. A make or break deadline is coming closer and things like Diablo 4 were not planned before then. Blizzard needs a significant win not just in initial profit but consumer goodwill. Nobody likes working at what the public now seems to see as “the bad guy” of the mmo industry.

>This has also made new hires decline. Not significantly but the “you WANT Blizzard on your resume” line doesn’t seem to have the appeal it used to. This has lead to more hiring via friend of a friend, to some rumblings about nepotism, and people severely lacking in experience “because they get great twitter optics”.

>On the topic of Twitter we are not being told to “disengage” from it. Multiple employees like Nervig and Holisky publicly attacking paying customers because they got too heated and couldn’t keep quiet is bad press that could have been avoided. A email reminder has gone around more than once lately stating “if you are not customer relations you should not be representing the company to customers, especially if you cannot remain professional”.

>Lastly the biggest elephant in the room is “yo’ boy” Asmongold. The newer hires cannot stand him. They have used terms like “toxic masculinity” and “dogwhistles to dangerous males” while some of the oldest crowd still remaining have called him “based” or “telling it like it is” which has lead to friction to put it mildly. People are told not to talk about him and the recent FFXIV stuff only made it all worse. The idea that an outside element can have such an effect on the product genuinely upsets people. Like Zach is engaging in some malicious act of cyberwarfare. Many of us have point out the now famous quotes by Naoki Yoshida about understanding that players will drift and we need to make something worth coming back to because they want to but some people for lack of a better word see out customers -or “consumers” as they refer to them nowadays- as some kind of antagonistic relationship where the goal is not being an entertainer putting on a show for a crowd but some kind of game hunter trying to trap a large, profitable kill. I wish i could blame Activision but this is a sentiment from more of the younger crowd than the “tech boomers”. Which personal opinion is probably why so many folks like Metzen and Morheim left.

>Before you ask, yes the topic of “wokeness” has shown up in group talks. Its not all some grand sjw conspiracy, people really do want to feel welcome and represented. However the “we need everything veto’ed by people not working on it to see if its inoffensive and bland enough” rubs some of us the wrong way. Like anything in life you can take something too far and lose sight of the core ideals and with everything gone on since Blitzchung it feels like people are forming little factions to pull people in different directions to decide “What Blizzards identity is now” and how to appeal to new players. There has been some drop offs with “go woke go broke” as the only answer in the survey when unsubbing but honestly we are losing subs in unforseen numbers anyway and still making more money than ever through cash shop “heavy users” so it honestly doesn’t make an impact.

>All in all things are rough right now. Blizzard doesn’t have the love of the customers anymore, is no longer treated as an industry giant and while D4,D2R and Immortal aren’t going to kill Diablo even if they fail the sentiment for World of Warcraft and Overwatch 2 are a lot more tense and stressful. The phrase “it might be good to brush up on your mobile development portfolio if we get another underperformer” has been doing the rounds a lot. If Shadowlands continues its stark decline and Overwatch 2 is looking to underperform like its current projections suggest i think the Blizzard of a few years from now will be imitating King a lot more than trying to learn any lessons from Square Enix’s mmo division.

[ikingsley]

Ina x MC: My Star

Ina x MC: My Star

Summary: Ina and Luna take their relationship to the next level.

Warnings: Fluff! So much fluff.

Tag: @samanthadalton @domakir @kulaykape @hellyeah90sbaby @dopeyouth @kwaj05 @thedaft1​ @swimmingshoebakerydreamer @kaitlynliaofanxx (Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)​

Author’s Notes: Events after the gala in QB Ch 16. Unfortunately, I have been busy with school and work, but I’ve still been writing. I’ve been working on a new series, one that tells about Ina and Luna’s future together. Here’s the start to their future relationship.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

May 3 @5:42 PM

Ina: Hey. I have a little something for you. Do you want to swing by my place and pick it up? Maybe stay for dinner too?

Luna picked up her phone, reading the message. They had been together officially for a few months now, but the gala had in a way halted their progress. It’d been a few weeks since Ina and Luna had truly been together for a date. Conversations through texts and FaceTime calls that lasted well into the night did occur frequently, but nothing of the romance the two had grown used to. Neither one knew how to approach the delicate situation they found themselves in. 

Luna: I’ll be there.

Luna walked quickly to her dorm, grabbing a hoodie. She trudged over to Ina’s apartment and waited patiently on the other side of the door. Ina opened it and gave her that million-dollar smile. 

“Hey,” Luna breathed out, her breath hitching after seeing Ina physically after weeks.

“Luna. You’re looking as radiant as ever. Come inside.”

Ina’s glance to the outside world did not go unnoticed. It was if she was searching for someone watching her. Not finding anyone who caught her attention, Ina closed the door and bolted it as she welcomed Luna inside.

“You know, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“You finished your first year at Belvoire. I think that deserves some celebration.”

Luna looked around, taking in Ina’s apartment once more. Then she smelled it.  She looked around the kitchen and saw the oven light on.

“Is Ina ‘I-Burned-Pasta’ Kingsley cooking?”

“Well, attempting to. I have some chicken in there.”

“Color me impressed. Does that chicken happen to be for me?”

“No,” Ina chimed in, turning around to attend to her food. “It’s for a twin sister you never knew you had that I also happen to be going out with.”

Luna only rolled her eyes at Ina in reaction, but reached forwards to hug her from behind.

“I missed you,” Luna whispered into Ina’s ear.

Ina spun Luna around and stared intensely into her eyes. “And I, you. Our FaceTimes weren’t enough for me. I don’t know what happens next with my future at Belvoire, but I know I want my future with you.”

Ina pressed a kiss against Luna’s temple. The timer went off and Ina pulled the chicken out of the oven.

“Me too. I-” Luna stopped.

Ina stopped and swiveled around waiting to hear those three words. “I…what?” Ina questioned. And how she longed to hear those words uttered from Luna’s mouth. Ina heard them frequently from Lilian and Charlotte, but she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d heard it from a partner. Excluding Luna, it’d been so long since she’d felt that kind of intimacy.

“I…I wonder what we have to accompany this chicken!” Luna diverted.

“Oh. I forgot to tell you. I have some broccoli in there too. Maybe I have some…wait- this went bad.” Ina dumped the rotten spinach in the trash. “Yeah, only broccoli.”

“That’s perfect.”

Soon, Ina placed a full plate in front of Luna and settled beside her. They took their first bite and surprised was only one way to describe the taste.

“This is uh…interes-” Luna remarked as she politely forced herself to swallow a portion of the food.

“You don’t need to-”

“Thanks.” Luna ejected what was left of the chicken from her mouth like it were a toxin.

“So, pizza?” Ina said and sputtered out the chicken. It was bone dry and there was too much seasoning of all sorts. Too many things had been combined.

“Please. No offense.”

“None taken. It’s the thought that counts, no?”

“You’re improving every time I see you cook, so let’s call it progress,” Luna smiled as she patted Ina’s shoulder. She stood up to grab her phone and order pizza.

Ina sighed and flopped on the couch. She so desperately wanted this night to go well. She herself was nervous. Ina had spent the previous nights tossing and turning. It finally had dawned on her that she was in love with Luna. Ever since she met her she’d slowly been falling more and more under Luna’s spell. Now she was completely enraptured by her. The simple facial features that morphed into an infectious smile. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed at Ina’s horrible jokes and witty banter. The way Luna caressed her face as she swept her into a kiss. Everything had been coming together.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Luna asked while she sat down next to Ina indicating she had just gotten off the phone for pizza delivery.

“Just...contemplating everything surrounding us. I’ve come to understand what’s truly important to me, which ultimately boils down to Lil, Charlotte and you of course. I don’t dislike my job, but maybe this is an opportunity for me to try and search for a more research-based career rather than actively teaching.”

Ina stood up, grabbing a small, elegantly wrapped rectangular box.

“I care for you too, Ina,” Luna smiled. “You so did not wrap this by the way.”

“Hey! I’ve gotten better at gift wrapping.”

“Not this good-”

“Oh hush, you. Open it.”

Luna meticulously pulled off the wrapping. Inside was a small framed poster. The poster had a big circle right in its center with some stars in it.

“Ina, this is beautiful. Is this-?”

“The stars on the day we met.”

“I don’t know what to say, babe. It’s...it’s perfect. I love you. I mean, I love it! Yeah! I love it.”

The silence that followed was highly drawn out. Both - who could talk a mile a minute when they were excited or passionately ranting - were dead silent. Ina replayed the moment in her head over and over. Had she heard right?

Luna was more bewildered with herself. She’d been too used to toxic, quickly-ending high school relationships. But as more time passed since she’d let the cat out of the bag, the more she realized that this somewhat spur-of-the-moment confession had more truth in it than anything she’d ever said before. She did love Ina. She loved the way Ina would tell her about her day, getting particularly loud during both the best and worst parts of the day. She loved the way Ina made her laugh or actually kept up with her nerdy discussions. She loved the way Ina would leave anything she was doing if Luna needed something. She loved the way Ina cared for Luna during her stressful finals and tended to her every need. She loved the way Ina balanced her so well. 

But deep down, Luna was scared. Scared of being hurt again. Scared of loving someone who only loved her if she acted in a certain way. But that someone wasn’t Ina. She’d found more of herself through Ina. And she’d found something she deserved in a relationship - a mutual respect.

“Can I crash here? I’m pretty tired.”

“Yes, but Luna...”

“Good night!”

“Wait-”

Ina’s urgency made Luna swivel around and she finally met Ina’s eyes. They were full of admiration, love, happiness.

“Did you mean it, Luna?”

“Mean...what?”

“You know.”

“Well, words are a tricky thing. After all, there’s a whole branch of anthropology that focuses on linguistics. It’s very complex!”

Ina hummed softly. “Yes, well...good night.” Ina pressed a chaste kiss on Luna’s forehead and Luna began to turn around to the bedroom. “I love you, Lu.”

Again, Luna stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“I love you, Garcia,” she grinned. “Come here.”

Luna ran towards Ina as she swept her in her arms. Luna jumped into Ina pressing her lips against Ina’s. Ina carried Luna’s small frame and paraded her around the apartment, often breaking their kiss with more admissions of love.

“I love you, Ina. With all my heart. You know pieces of my past and so I was scared to say it. I know we haven’t officially been together for long, but what I feel for you, it’s beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. I am...deeply in love with you, however scary it may seem.”

“Read the caption under the stars, my love.”

Quietly, Luna descended from Ina’s arms and picked up the poster she’d just been gifted. Under the stars was a small quote. 

I love you, what star do you live on? - Conrad Aiken 

Ina Kingsley and Luna Garcia

The Day the Stars Aligned. September 6, 2020 | 4 AM | Dreams Diner, New York 

“I love you so much you big nerd,” Luna beamed and wiped away the tears that began forming at the corner of her eyes. “I love you, Ina Kingsley.”

“Sol.”

“Sun? My name, Luna, means moon in Spanish. But I guess I’m your sun too.”

“You are. By the way, I know that, Lu.” Luna gave her a ‘really? are you sure about that’ look. “I am fluent in Spanish thank you very much! I learned it before English!”

“As did I,” Luna retorted.

“Right, well. My middle name. It’s Sol.”

~

A few months later...

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Ina laughed.

“Honestly, same.”

“What? You basically coerced me into coming!” Ina exclaimed. “I thought we were going to the museum.”

“We will after if you’re up to it. And you would’ve come regardless. You love me too much.”

“Touché.”

“Such a little simp.”

“And?”

“No, nothing,” Luna said quickly. She proceeded to whisper simp once again under her breath.

A strong, tatted man opened the dark curtains, letting the establishment soak in the sunlight.

“How can I help you?” he asked.

“We’re here for tattoos!” Luna said happily.

“Yes, well, we are at a tattoo parlor,” Ina retorted.

“Sorry. Don’t mind her. She’s just grumpy all the time.”

Ina made a face at Luna, her brows furrowed in frustration. Just through that look, Luna knew not to pester Ina once more. She gave her a ‘you’re in trouble when we get home’ look.

“You both are willingly getting tattoos?” the man asked. It was definitely more directed towards Ina.

Bashfully, Ina nodded. Never in a million years did she think she’d do this. A tattoo. Jesus Christ. Luna was right. If she pulled out a Merriam-Webster dictionary, she knew she’d find a full page photo of herself next to the word simp - a word they’d specifically added just for her.

“What are you guys looking for? Something small, something big? Something plain, something colorful?”

Who was this man? Dr. Seuss’s son? Ina thought to herself.

“Just something small. Maybe on my hip or something,” Luna answered for the both of them as Ina nodded in agreement.

As fun as this little bonding activity was, both women were professionals. Nothing could be too blatantly obvious. Potentially hypothetically, Ina couldn’t have her students ask her about her new tattoo rather than anthropology.

“Do you guys have any designs you want me to copy?” the man asked as he put on gloves.

“Umm...I didn’t have anything in specific in mind. Maybe her name or something that reminds me of her? A rose maybe?” Luna began rambling as her thoughts took over.

The two women stood aside in silence, pondering what they would get. It was unlike them - they were always prepared for everything.

“Hey, Luna,” Ina turned to face her partner. “Why don’t we get a sun and moon?”

“Aww, Ina,” she smiled.

Goddamn those heart eyes, Ina thought.

“Okay, why don’t you get a moon and I’ll get a sun,” Luna said. “That way I’ll always be reminded of you, and you me.”

“I’d like nothing more, my love.”

And after being called a baby multiple times by Luna and a few blaring yelps - mostly on Ina’s part - they were permanently linked by ink. 

“I love you but I am never ever doing that again, Luna.”

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

 Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

[youare-mysonshine]

ocean eyes || justin foley

Summary: A cute, relaxing evening with you and Justin.

Requested: Yes

Can I request something super fluffy with Justin from 13rw? After that finale I’m still SAD so I don’t wanna think abt it at all lmaooo, it could maybe b like before the tapes? Jus something super fluffy n cutesy.

Pairing: Justin Foley x Reader

Warnings: cussing, underage drinking and drug use, mentions of abuse, pre-season 1, pre-tapes.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Hey guys, I do be back! Shocking, I know lmao i’m just as surprised. So I stopped writing for a while because I just kinda lost motivation. I lost motivation for writing for Oscar and OMB. But expanding my blog has been something that I’ve been wanting to do for a while now, I’ve just been a bit nervous. However, I said fuck it and have decided to write for other fandoms. With t h a t ending for 13 reasons why, I figured we could all use some Justin fluff. Baby boy deserved better. Anyways, this is my first time writing for somebody other than Oscar in a while and my first time writing in a while in general, i’m definitely rusty and lowkey nervous to be posting lmao I hope you guys enjoy this and I hope that this isn’t shitty. And if any of you wanna be tagged in any future work of mine, not just Oscar and OMB, let me know!

————

“Jesus Justy, you’re such a lightweight, aren’t you? Do I have to take care of your dumb ass all night?” You looked over at your boyfriend of a few months, cheeks pink, mouth pulled back into an amused grin.

“Shut the fuck up. I am not a lightweight. Besides, look who’s talking. Remember Bryce’s party a few weeks ago? We hadn’t even been there for like 2 hours and your pretty little ass was passed out on the couch.”

You and Justin walked up the narrow stairs that led into the attic, hand in hand. It had been his idea to buy some beer, to smoke some weed and you had been on board with the plan. You had snuck Justin into your room and the both of you had spent the better part of the afternoon drinking the nasty beer, beer provided by Bryce Walker, having chugging competitions to see who could drink the most and fastest. Now, you and the handsome high school athlete found yourselves making your way up to the attic that led to the roof.

“Oh shut up! I was not drunk! That was you.” You laughed, your bright eyes glimmering like two twinkling stars in the night sky. The two of you had worked your way into the attic, shimmied through the window and found yourselves on the roof of your house. You had chosen a comfortable, as comfortable as it could be for the roof, spot and took a seat, patting the spot beside you for Justin to sit down. The chocolate haired teenager did as instructed and sat beside you, your arms touching. He’d since abandoned his fashionable blue and white letterman jacket, the garment laying stagnant on your bed.

A warm evening consumed Evergreen County. The sky was full of vibrant colors such as orange, red and yellow which were slowly being rotted away into a sea of black. You could see the moon just barely beginning to peak out in the sky. It was beginning to look like a beautiful night. Warm and crisp and breezy. Quite frankly, you were a little tipsy. You and Justin. You weren’t stumbling or anything, but it was enough to leave you feeling free and good. You felt good.

Justin held the joint up to his lips and fished a lighter out from his pocket. He hovered the flame by the tip until it began to smolder nicely. He inhaled deeply, held it for a few seconds and then removed the joint from his move. Blue eyes as bright as the ocean on a sunny day watched the plumes of white smoke dissipate into thin air, dancing like ink in water until they simply vanished. He handed the joint over to you and then laid back against the roof, staring up at the sky.

“Mhm. Whatever helps you sleep better at night, babe.” Justin smoke, a peaceful smile on his face. The truth was; this was the most peaceful that he’d felt in quite a few days. Being away from home, being away from that toxic environment that sucked the life and energy out of him. He turned his head to look at you; you had followed his lead and laid down beside him, bringing the joint up to your lips. You wrapped your lips around the end of it and inhaled, your eyes closing for a brief few seconds. You’re beautiful, he thought to himself. The familiar stench of weed had invaded his nostrils, as well as yours.

“My parents would fuckin’ kill me if they saw me up here.” You said, laughing a bit breathlessly. You parents were oblivious, in the living room or kitchen, completely unaware that Justin had been in your room the entire afternoon. Completely unaware that you were now on the roof smoking weed with your boyfriend. Though, you supposed that it worked out better for you, because you could feel yourself relaxing even further, ending a good day on an even higher note, no pun intended.

“I get the feeling neither of them would like me if they saw us up here. They’d probably say I was a bad influence on you. And it’s probably true.” He chuckled, taking the joint between his fingers and bringing it up to his lips again. “I’m corrupting you, baby.” He said, cheekily. He looked over at you with that big and bright smile on his face and you were reminded of why you fell for him in the first place; you and Justin went to the same school. Liberty High School. You weren’t necessarily popular but you weren’t a loner either. You had just moved there a few months, shortly before going out with Justin. and you had immediately caught his eye. He’d flirt with you, do things to try and get your attention. But you made him work for it. You wanted him to sweat a little bit, make him realize that you weren’t going to give in to his charms so easily.

But in the end, he won you over. You couldn’t say no to him. You couldn’t say no to that beautiful smile and those bright blue eyes. Now, here you were, months later. You were going out, happy as can be. But, you had soon learned that Justin’s life wasn’t all that he made it out to be. You remembered one evening where he called you, asked if he could go over to your house and spend the night. Usually, you’d say no. You knew that your parents would ground you for life if they found a boy in your room at night. But his voice, he sounded so sad, so broken — you couldn’t say no to him. However, the last thing that you expected to see was your boyfriend sporting a fresh, darkening purple bruise on his cheekbone that cascaded all the way up to his eye. Around his neck were reddening fingerprints, as if someone had strangled him.

You remembered the shock that you felt seeing him in such a state, and naturally, you had thought that you boyfriend had been in a fight. He had been in a fight. With his mom’s boyfriend. All you could do was sit on the bed, hold a pack of ice to his face and listen as he explained to you the horrors that he went through on a daily basis at the hands of his drug addicted mother and her boyfriend. He looked so different than how you knew him. His ocean eyes that were usually so vibrant and full of life, were downcast, gloomy. That was when you realized that there was more to Justin Foley than met the eye. From then on, you told him that whenever things were getting bad at home, he always had a place to stay with you. And it seemed like your relationships had also strengthened, like you two had gotten closer. All you wanted to do was ensure that he was safe, that no harm would come to him. Even if it meant physically stepping in and doing something. Though, you were sure that you would be no match for the coward known as Seth Massey. Still, you would do anything for Justin. Just as you knew he’d do anything for you.

You chuckled softly at his words. “Well then I guess you can be my dirty little secret.” You said to him, scooting so that you were snuggled closer to him. It was then that your smile melted away and was replaced with a look of concern. “How are things with you thought? At home, I mean. You haven’t spoken about it in a little while, and Bryce told me that you stayed with him for a few days last week. Is Seth back?” You were trying your hardest not to pry, the last thing you wanted to do was come off as clingy or noisy, but you couldn’t help it. You cared. Where Justin was laying on his back, the hem of his shirt had rose up slightly on his stomach, leaving a thick sliver of skin expose. Your fingers rested there, absently toying with the thing trail of hair below his belly button. That first inhale was gradually loosening your muscles. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.. I just worry. I mean.. is everything good? Or do I have to kick his ass for you?” You said, only half joking.

Justin smiled, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer to him. “I would love to see that. I mean, I would pay to see that shit actually.” He chuckled, taking one more drag of the joint before handing it off to you. His fingers drew little random patterns and shaped on your silky skin, his smile dying down. “Yeah, um.. He’s back. I mean, honestly I just figured I’d stay out of his way rather than start anymore fuckin’ problems. The last thing I need is to get into another fuckin’ fight with that dick. So I just stayed with Bryce for a few days.” In all honesty, Seth actually kind of scared Justin. The man was unpredictable. Violent. He’d hurt Justin countless of times, called him so many names that he could probably write a book filled with them. There were times were the blue eyed teen didn’t even want to deal with Seth so he just escaped to Bryce’s pool house where he’d pretend like his home life wasn’t a big pule of shit. Still, he wrestled with his thoughts of guilt at leaving his mom alone with that scum bad. He wrestled with his thought of guilt because he knew that Seth would and could hurt his mother. But countless of times, Amber Foley welcomed Seth back no matter what he’d done to her or him. And countless of times, Justin was left disappointed by his own flesh and blood.

It was why he was determined to keep you out of that. You were probably one of the few good things in his life, besides Bryce and his friends. You were good. You were pure. And the last thing he wanted was to have you tainted by the shit show that was his life. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve you at all. Like you deserved someone way better than him. Someone who could give you more than him. If he was being truthful, he never wanted you to find out about his home life. He wanted to keep that part of his life hidden and he wanted you to see what everybody at school saw; the popular jock with lots of friends and lots of girls pining after him. The guy with the seemingly perfect life. Yet, when you discovered that his mom was a drug addict with an extremely abusive boyfriend.. you stayed. You didn’t judge him. You didn’t leave him. You stayed. And Justin considered himself the luckiest person on the planet because he had you.

You frowned. “Justin, babe, why didn’t you tell me? You know that you don’t have to hide shit from me, right? I mean I’m glad you got outta there and stayed with Bryce for a few days but you can come to me too.”

“Hey, it’s fine. It’s whatever. I just I didn’t want to tell you anything and make you worried. I only stayed with Bryce because.. I don’t know, I just didn’t want to feel like I was bugging you or something. And I don’t want you to get in trouble with your folks because of me incase they found out that I stayed here.” He explained. “Don’t worry, okay? Everything is all good, I promise. I’m here with you. How could it not be?” He leaned over and kissed your forehead. His words and his kiss had eased your nerves, even if it was only temporarily. Right now, the two of you were together and everything was good. Neither of you had a care in the world; you were with each other and you were all that mattered.

“You know that you don’t deserve it, right? All that shit from Seth. No matter what he says or does to you.. it’s not your fault and you shouldn’t have to live like that.. I’m serious, Justin. I’m here, don’t forget that. I’m your girlfriend but I’m also your friend.” You said. To show that he’d heard you, Justin gave your arm a loving squeeze. For a few minutes, neither of you said nothing. The both of you just stared up at the darkening sky, passing the joint back and forth until nothing was left. Until your muscles were completely relaxed, until your eyes were half lidded, until the only thing on your mind was how good you felt.

“Do you ever think about leaving this place? Just packing your shit and going? I’ve thought about it. We could go anywhere we want. Away from Seth, from all the high school bullshit, away from everyone. It’d be nice.” You hummed, the air growing cooler as you spoke. “But it looks like we’re stuck here. For now, at least. Graduation seems like forever away.” You broke the silence, though your eyes never left the beautiful sky. Justin, however, turned to look at you. For a few seconds, he just stared at you and took you in — how good your perfume smelled and how it seemed to cling to him. How the fabric of your outfit contrasted beautifully against your skin. How relaxed you looked. You were utterly ethereal.

“I think about it all the time. Especially when I’m at home, listening to my mom and Seth fight. I think about just fucking leaving and never coming back. Forgetting this boring ass little town and just.. getting away from here.” He revealed. “Maybe one day, me and you, we can get outta here together. After graduation. Just pack our shit up and leave.” That was a good thought. Leaving Crestmont with you. Going anywhere in the world that they wanted. But you two were still young, and neither of you knew the giant shit storm that you were about to go through. Neither of you knew the horror that you’d endure. Neither of you knew if you’d even still be together by the time you go to graduation.. or if you even make it to graduation. Still, right now, everything seemed too good and too perfect. Like nothing could tear you down and ruin what you had going on.

You groaned, burying your face in Justin’s shoulder. “Graduation is so far away.” You whined playfully. “Who’s to say that you won’t get tired of me by then?”

“Eh, you’re right. You’re pretty fucking annoying.” Justin said, earning a smack to the chest by you. “I’m kidding!” He laughed. “I mean.. we don’t know what’s gonna happen but I like to think that you and I will still be together by the time we get to graduation. I mean.. I don’t know.. call me sappy or whatever.. I just really like you, Y/N.. And you know about me and my fucked up life and family and you haven’t run for the hills.. yet. I guess I’m pretty fucking lucky to have you and I don’t wanna screw any of this up.”

“Wow.. Justin Foley.. Have you been watching cheesy romance movies?” You teased your boyfriend. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing softly. “Seriously though.. I really like you too and nothing you do or say is gonna scare me off. Seth isn’t gonna scare me off either. You’re right, we don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future but.. we just gotta take it day by day right.. Together?”

Instead of initially answering you verbally, Justin surged forward and captured your soft lips with his own. The kiss that you shared was slow, relaxed, a symptom of the weed that you two had just shared. But it was more loving than any other kiss you’d experienced before. You sighed in content, easing against him, but Justin reacted by gripping your thigh and moving it so that it was draped over his lap. You did the rest; without breaking the kiss, your mouths and tongues moving in a steady rhythm, you shifted from laying against the tiled roof and positioned yourself on top of him. Your thigh were sturdy on either side of his lips, your butt rested lightly upon his lap. Justin’s hands fell on your hips, holding you secure and steady against him, almost as if wanting to make sure that you wouldn’t disappear.

After a few long, precious moments, you finally pulled away an inch or two. Your face was close to his, your noses barely touching. “Together.” He finally answered.

“You’re stuck with me now, Foley. Sorry about it.” You giggled breathlessly, your eyes shining brightly. Justin never wanted to look away.

“Yeah? Well sorry to say it, but you’re stuck with me too, baby. You ain’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Justin knew his friends, Bryce and all the other jocks, would call him pussy whipped if they could see him now. Hell, they already did every time they saw you and Justin walking down the hallway holding hands or his arm around you.. Justin would soon learn that his biggest downfall would be caring too much of what his friends think.

But for now, he enjoyed the moment of being tangled up with you on the roof of your house with the moon illuminating you both. Nothing else mattered.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 109

Happy Spooptober, everyone!

I’ve been planning since about February to do another camping trip this month, for the season.  I was super fortunately back in May to have some stories left over to share, that I didn’t have the opportunity for last time.  So thanks go to @catolicabuena for your submission, and to @dierotenixe for the PERFECT character to add to this chapter.

As always, thanks go to @zazen-rabbit, @baelpenrose, and @charlylimph-blog for being the beta readers and cheering section I need every day, no matter what.

As a reward for the clear, focused argument Charly gave in favor of Shalt-kri’i/Ekomari hostilities being over cultural misunderstandings earned her a reward of her choice.  I don’t know what Arthur expected, but part of me expected her to ask him something like throwing the class a party, showing up to teach class in sparkly footie-pajamas.  Her response, instead, left me convinced there was a conspiracy between her, Conor, and other mysterious parties to keep track of the Terran holidays.

“It’s almost Halloween,” she immediately pointed out. 

How? How did she say that so certainly? I wasn’t even sure it was Friday.

Oblivious to my thoughts, she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Today’s Tuesday - “ See!? “Which means Halloween is just under two weeks away? I think?”

“Your guess is probably better than mine,” I admitted. “Between the extra long days, artificial light, and consistent temperatures, I have no idea anymore.”

“She’s spot on,” Tyche confirmed, without even looking up.  We were sitting in my living room, digging into ice cream while all the guys were at work.

“How - “ I sputtered. “How are y’all keeping track of this?”

Tyche rolled her eyes, while Charly snagged my wrist and shook it. When my datapad popped up, she gave me the deadest stare I had ever seen on her face. “There is a calendar on this thing. You do know that, right?”

My face and neck burned so hot, I was surprised my hair didn’t catch on fire. “I keep it on the daily view, so I can see all my appointments.”

“Which is why she has me and Alistair,” my sister pointed out lazily before scooping up another spoonful of dessert. “By the way, this pumpkin ice cream is pretty good.”

I nodded, having had a scoop earlier.  We had been trying every flavor we could think of.  

True to form, Charly’s was a screaming purple that honestly scared me, sprinkled with gummy bears and some kind of acid-green syrup. Every time she leaned my direction, I couldn’t repress the flinch. “Pumpkin is a good point. We should go camping again, and carve pumpkins.”

I could almost feel my ears pick up. “You mean like jack-o-lanterns?”

“Duhhhhh,” she scooped up a large enough bite to convince me it probably wasn’t toxic. “I know we can’t have open flames in the lab, but we can still put emitters in them.”

“Where are we even going to get pumpkins in time?” Neither woman would look at me. “What did y’all do?”  I sighed.

“We did nothing,” Tyche insisted, chin jutting out stubbornly. “Now Sam….”

An audible smack sounded when I dropped my forehead to my palm. “How big?”

Charly gave me the widest puppy-dog eyes she could. “How big are what?”

“The pumpkins…”

“Pretty big,” Tyche smirked. “I don’t think I’ve seen even you carve any this big, honestly.”

I wasn’t a professional carver by any means, or even competitive, but I had done some pretty big ones in the past, so I was a little excited to see these.

 A couple nights later, sure enough, several of us were carrying our camping gear to the now-less-eerie clearing where our previous camping trip had taken place.  Even though Sam had decided not to join us, we were greeted by the sight of six enormous pumpkins around the edges of the space.  In awe, I approached one and ran my hand over it - I actually had to lift my hand, seeing as the thing came nearly up to my hips. “How long has he been growing these?” I asked.

“Just over three months?” Conor huffed, setting down our gear. “The things love our best guess of Von’s environment, turns out.”

“No shit,” I whispered before clearing my throat. “I don’t think we have large enough containers for the guts and everything in these.”  The deal with camping in the Lab was that we had to take out everything brought in with or for us.  While Grey agreed to allow the jack-o-lanterns to decorate the area for the next two weeks - ostensibly as a study of decomposition - if we couldn’t remove the waste from the pumpkins, we couldn’t carve them.

Something that felt like plastic beaned me in the face. While I rubbed my face, I glanced down at my feet where whatever-it-was fell. 

Maverick started apologizing before I could figure out what I was looking at. “Oh god, Sophia, I’m sorry! I meant to toss that on top of the pumpkin!”

With a joking scowl, I glanced at the vegetable between us. “How bad does your aim have to be to miss that thing?”

“Are you okay?”

“Only if you tell me what just hit me in the forehead?”  I tried leaning over to pick them up again, but Conor beat me to it.

“They’re composting bags,” Maverick admitted. “I brought them just in case. They were the only thing large enough and portable enough to at least get in here.”

“It looks like a roll of garbage bags,” Simon pointed out skeptically, poking the roll of pseudo-plastic Conor was holding.

Conor smiled and shrugged. “Pretty similar.”

Soon, we were spreading out and setting up our gear in  a familiar pattern. Just as the last bit of gear was stuffed into the tents or spread on the ground, Antoine’s head snapped up and over his shoulder. “Does anyone else hear that?”

Silence fell as we strained our ears to listen.  The others started looking around, searching for something, before I was able to actually catch what they were hearing.  Finally, I was able to hear what sounded like music, but it was in a minor key that sent shivers up my spine.  It was another minute or so before I could make out words drifting through the trees. 

“ -  a year, and then

A few weeks, doubled, and tripled again,

A fire was struck by a warrior’s band

Meant for food, warmth, and a place to stand”

“What the - “ Tyche started wandering toward the music, clearly expecting us to follow. “It’s beautiful, but so sad.”

Reluctantly, I followed, reminding myself that this was a lab, that the faerie ring we were standing in was manufactured as a prank.

 “Yet one bough too many was placed inside

The flames roared to life as they screamed and cried

Tore down the trees as the warriors fled

And only ceased by the river’s bed

 The warriors slain, charred skulls and bone

Have remained in the forest for years, alone

Yet a magic imbued in their ashen remains

That entered a child who hid in great pain”

 I glanced over my shoulder, and saw about half our group behind me, including - “Arthur, why do you have your sword?”

“Because it’s steel,” he shrugged, like that actually answered my question. “Which means it has iron in it, and we’re in space, so any fucked up space-fae might not know the difference.”

 “In order to warn those who may stay

In the trees embrace, and walk away

The girl reads the thoughts of those who stand

On the ashes of noses, bowels, and hands

 She sends them away with a haunted scream

That tears into souls with a power unseen

No one has entered who has not fled

Only to drown in the river’s bed”

 Because that line was reassuring as I realized we were getting toward the artificial lake. Totally want to hear about drowning in a river bed, on a Halloween camping trip, sang by a creepy voice I didn’t recognize.  A voice that we were steadily getting closer to, no less.

 “For what place is safer from fire and flame

Than the rushing of water, a power untamed

The danger evaded, the human is saved

As their lungs are filled with a liquid depraved

 To step foot in the forest is to invite death

For though the child has drawn their last breath…”

 Tyche came to a sudden stop, both hands abruptly on her hips.  She glanced back at me, one eyebrow arched, and twitched her head toward the lake.  The voice was incredibly close to us at this point, so I peeked past her as carefully as I could.

Even in the low light of the BioLab during simulated-night, I saw a bright gleam of silver trailing through the water, interrupted only by a thick, red-gold cable draped halfway down.

“Their soul remains as though chained to the ground,” Nixe smiled with her eyes as she wound the song to a close. “And they’ll tear you apart until you are drowned.”

“Very funny,” Tyche half-scolded. “You did that on purpose.”

A lazy flick of her tail accompanied a cool glance over the surface of the water. “Perhaps,” she replied calmly. “And perhaps not. I often swim at night. And I like to sing, it’s in my nature.”

“But a song about ghosts, and vengeance, and drowning?”

“I’m a siren, Administrator Reid.” A bright flash of teeth that my brain told me were sharper than I knew they were. “All of my songs are about love, and revenge, and how else do sirens take revenge?” Another lazy splash. “I can’t exactly burn people at a pyre.”

“I loved it!” Charly spoke up from behind me. “We’re camping for Halloween, so it was perfect!” I had to admit, at least to myself, that she had a point.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one. From over my shoulder, I heard Arthur murmur “Siren or not, you’re insane.” A brief pause. “But I love the spooky music…”

I couldn’t be certain that she heard the comment, but Nixe’s eyes suddenly snapped over my shoulder to the side where it sounded like Arthur was standing. “Iron has no effect on me, Educator,” she stated firmly, flicking her tail to make a point. “But I mean none of you any harm, so please put the blade away. One near-death experience is plenty, thank you.”

A metallic rasp told me Arthur had acquiesced. “Apologies, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Were it anyone else, you still wouldn’t need that sword.” She tilted her head. “I would be there first.”

“Okay!” I interrupted, trying to break the tension. “Nixe, we’re camping and carving pumpkins.  Did you want to join us?”

Another smile, this one less terrifying. “I appreciate the invitation, but I have plans tonight.  I do apologize for interrupting your evening.”

“We were just surprised,” Charly explained. “But it was beautiful and perfect and thank you!”

With a nod, Nixe turned her body toward the artificial lake. “I am glad the song was appreciated.  Good night.”

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[calzona-ga]

She might change her mind; she certainly has before. But midway through an interview, Ellen Pompeo casually drops the bomb that after more than 360 episodes, the upcoming 17th season of “Grey’s Anatomy” may be its last.

“We don’t know when the show is really ending yet,” Pompeo says, answering a question that was not at all about when the show might end. “But the truth is, this year could be it.”

Pompeo has played Meredith Grey — the superstar surgeon around whom “Grey’s Anatomy” revolves — since its start. The show, created by Shonda Rhimes, premiered on ABC on March 27, 2005, and became an immediate, noisy hit. Since then, for a remarkably long time in Hollywood years, the drama has been among the most popular series on TV, even as the landscape of television has changed seismically. At its Season 2 ratings height, the program drew an average audience of 20 million viewers. And all these years later — in a TV universe now divided by more than 500 scripted shows —“Grey’s” ranks as the No. 1 drama among 18- to 34- year-olds and No. 2 among adults 18 to 49. In delayed, multiplatform viewing, Season 16 averaged 15 million viewers.

Strikingly, technology is such that teenagers who were born when the show premiered, and later binged “Grey’s” on Netflix, watch new episodes live with their parents. The series has spawned two successful spinoffs for ABC, “Private Practice” (which ran from 2007 to 2013) and “Station 19” (which enters its fourth season this fall). “Grey’s Anatomy” has been licensed in more than 200 territories across the world, translated into more than 60 languages, and catapulted the careers of music artists — from Ingrid Michaelson and Snow Patrol to Tegan and Sara and the Fray — whose songs have played during key emotional sequences.

In its explosive initial success, “Grey’s Anatomy” was an insurgent force in popular culture. The Season 1 cast featured three Black actors — Chandra Wilson, James Pickens Jr. and Isaiah Washington — as doctors in positions of power at the Seattle hospital where the show is set, and Sandra Oh played the ambitious intern Cristina Yang, who would become Meredith’s best friend. For the women characters, the “Grey’s” approach to sex was defiant and joyful, starting in the pilot with Meredith’s one-night stand with Derek (Patrick Dempsey), who turned out to be one of her bosses at the hospital.

Rhimes presented these images to the world like they were no big deal, when in fact, nothing like “Grey’s” had ever been seen on network television. Krista Vernoff has been the “Grey’s Anatomy” showrunner since Season 14, as anointed by Rhimes, and was the head writer for the first seven seasons. She remembers the moment she realized how radical “Grey’s” was — a medical show driven entirely by its characters instead of their surgeries — as she watched an episode early in Season 1. “My whole body was covered in chills,” Vernoff recalls. “I was like, ‘Oh, we thought we were making a sweet little medical show — and we’re making a revolution.’”

Still, no one expected “Grey’s Anatomy” to become the longest-running primetime medical drama in TV history, outlasting “MASH” and “ER,” the previous record-holder. Since 2005, “Grey’s” has inspired countless women to become doctors, and along the way, its depiction of illness has even saved a few lives. The show has remained popular through three presidential administrations, the Great Recession, tectonic shifts in how people watch TV and two cultural reckonings — one feminist, one anti-racist — that demonstrate how ahead of its time “Grey’s Anatomy” has always been.

And they’re not done yet. When Season 17 premieres on Nov. 12, “Grey’s Anatomy” will tackle the subject of the coronavirus as experienced by the doctors at Grey Sloan Memorial, all while filming under strict COVID-19 protocols. The season is dedicated to frontline workers. And Pompeo, a producer on “Grey’s” — whose Meredith has removed a live bomb from a patient’s body, was in a plane crash, was widowed after Derek died in a car accident, was beaten nearly to death by a patient and, in a separate incident, actually did die briefly after a ferry accident — is intent on making the show top itself once again.

“I’m constantly fighting for the show as a whole to be as good as it can be. As a producer, I feel like I have permission to be able to do that,” Pompeo says. “I mean, this is the last year of my contract right now. I don’t know that this is the last year? But it could very well could be.”

Pompeo has been refreshingly transparent about her fight to become the highest-paid female actor on television, having detailed a few years ago how she negotiated a paycheck for more than $20 million a year. She clearly knows what she’s doing with these frank pronouncements as well.

As Pompeo laughs over the phone from her car, she says in a near shout: “There’s your sound bite! There’s your clickbait! ABC’s on the phone!”

The “Grey’s Anatomy” team — led by Rhimes and executive producer Betsy Beers — created the first season in a vacuum, because the show did not have an airdate. The 2004-05 season was a comeback year for ABC because “Desperate Housewives” and “Lost,” both of which debuted that fall, became phenomena — not only ratings successes but also watercooler events.

But at “Grey’s,” Rhimes was getting noted to death by network president Steve McPherson. According to Vernoff, McPherson — who resigned in 2010 under a cloud of sexual harassment allegations — stonewalled with “pushback every step of the way,” as ABC’s then- head of drama, Suzanne Patmore Gibbs, fought for the show. Vernoff was close with Patmore Gibbs, who died in 2018, and recalls her talking about her clashes with McPherson.

“He just didn’t get it; he didn’t like it,” Vernoff continues. “Honestly, I’m going to say, I don’t think he liked the ambitious women having sex unapologetically.”

Wilson, when she was cast as Miranda Bailey on “Grey’s,” was a New York theater actor (“Caroline, or Change”) relatively new to series television. But she was well aware of the network’s issues. “We took a creative break around the Christmas holiday, which to me meant ‘Oh, we’re out of a job.’”

Pompeo was frustrated: “Once we finally got an airdate, two weeks before that airdate they wanted to change the title of the show to ‘Complications.’”

In an email to Variety, McPherson disputed these assertions, saying, “I made the original deal with Shonda. I developed ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ at the studio. I picked it up at ABC.” He praised Patmore Gibbs, and added, “As for defaming me again and again, I don’t know what to say other than it’s sad that anyone feels the need to spread lies about me.”

Yet there was so little faith in the show that the writers were asked to clear out their offices when they finished the season. But to Vernoff, who had clicked right away with Rhimes, the early episodes had “felt like a labor of love.”

And it was worth the battle. “We fought for the right for Meredith and Bailey to be whole human beings, with whole sex lives, and not a network TV idea of likable,” Vernoff says. “You might not have been likable, but now you’re iconic.”

As far as the medicine went, the cases were often ostentatious. “Every kind of crazy accident that had ever caused terrible harm to any human ever, that was our homework at night,” Vernoff says. It was up to Zoanne Clack, an emergency room doctor-turned-writer, to be a sounding board in the writers’ room. She began as the only doctor on staff during the first season, and is now an executive producer. “What was interesting was that the writers don’t have those boundaries because they don’t know the rules, so they would come up with all of these scenarios, and my immediate thought was like, ‘No way!’” Clack says. “Then I’d have to think about it and go, ‘But could it?’”

When the program finally premiered — on a Sunday night after “Desperate Housewives” — to massive ratings, it was a shock to the cast and crew, given that they had shot the first season under a cloud, Pompeo says, adding, “So the fact that the numbers were that huge the first time we aired was a big f–k-you to McPherson!”

With Season 2 now a given, everything changed, Vernoff says: “It was like a hurricane-force gale, and everyone was just trying to hold on.” They had made 13 episodes for Season 1, airing nine of them and holding the final four for Season 2 — Meredith finding out that Derek was actually married (to Addison, played by Kate Walsh) had felt like the perfect finale. But upon the writers’ return, Vernoff says, the feeling was “Holy s—. We have to make 22.”

The entire cast — mostly unknown actors like Katherine Heigl as the sunny Izzie Stevens, T.R. Knight as the chummy neurotic George O’Malley, and Justin Chambers as the troubled, secretly vulnerable Alex Karev — had become famous overnight. For Wilson, whose Bailey was the stern teacher the interns called “the Nazi,” it was a new experience. “Folks were scared to talk to me, like in the store or in the Target — people would just kind of leave me alone,” she says. “It was like, ‘What’s going on?’”

According to Vernoff, “Paparazzi were following the cast to work — it was wild.”

The mid- to late-2000s were the height of glossy gossip magazines such as Us Weekly (and its copycats), as well as the inception of TMZ and Perez Hilton as celebrity-hounding, news-breaking forces that fueled (and soiled) the fame-industrial complex. The cast of “Grey’s Anatomy” was firmly in the sights of these new, often toxic forces in media.

Pompeo says the cast was so talented that it “was all worth it” — but yes, the transition to stardom was hard for the group: “At the time, it was just a real combination of exhaustion and stress and drama. Actors competing with each other — and envious.”

Heigl, Knight and Isaiah Washington all went through press cycles that made the show seem scandal-prone. To rehash it all now seems pointless; you can look it up. Washington was fired in June 2007. Knight and Heigl asked to be written out of the show preemptively, in Seasons 5 and 6, respectively.

Vernoff and the other writers were watching the internal messes unfold. They had to deal with how the fallout affected the show’s plot, as when Washington was fired just as Burke, his character, was about to marry Cristina. “When word comes down that an actor is leaving the show, and what you’ve got scripted is a wedding …” Vernoff trails off, laughing.

“There was a lot of drama on-screen and drama off-screen, and young people navigating intense stardom for the first time in their lives,” she continues. “I think that a lot of those actors, if they could go back in time and talk to their younger selves, it would be a different thing. Everybody’s grown and changed and evolved — but it was an intense time.”

Pompeo doesn’t want to talk about what happened with individual actors from the show, because when she has in the past, “it doesn’t get received in the way in which I intend it to be.” But she does make a point about the way television is produced. “Nobody should be working 16 hours a day, 10 months a year — nobody,” she says. “And it’s just causing people to be exhausted, pissed, sad, depressed. It’s a really, really unhealthy model. And I hope post-COVID nobody ever goes back to 24 or 22 episodes a season.

“It’s why people get sick. It’s why people have breakdowns. It’s why actors fight! You want to get rid of a lot of bad behavior? Let people go home and sleep.”

Debbie Allen would eventually be Pompeo’s savior in that regard, but that was years away. Allen — an actor and a dancer — began her directing career when she was on the 1980s TV series “Fame” as a “natural progression” because, she says, “I was in charge of the musical numbers, and so many directors didn’t really know how to shoot them.” She went on to be a prolific director and producer, most notably overhauling NBC’s “A Different World” after a tumultuous first season. As a fan of “Grey’s Anatomy,” Allen wanted to work on the show, and in Season 6, she was hired to direct. To prepare for it, Allen shadowed Wilson, who had been tapped to direct by executive producer-director Rob Corn. (“He came to me and said, ‘You should direct,’” says Wilson, who has now helmed 21 episodes. “And I said, ‘OK.’ Because I didn’t know what else to say.”)

Directing that sixth-season episode led to Allen’s fruitful relationship with “Grey’s.” In Season 8, Rhimes wrote Allen into the show to play Catherine, a star surgeon, a love interest for Richard Webber (Pickens) and the mother of Jackson Avery (Jesse Williams). Ahead of Season 12 in 2015, Allen became the show’s EP/director. Her duties included hiring all of the directors, weighing in on scripts and casting, and, as Allen puts it, “minding that people feel good about themselves.” Several years before the revived #MeToo movement would lead to calls for systemic changes behind the camera in Hollywood, Allen set a goal of hiring 50% women directors. She also increased the number of Black men who directed “Grey’s” during her first season as executive producer, among them Denzel Washington. (When she sold him on it, she recounts, he said to her, “I’m going to say yes, Debbie Allen.”)

Pompeo and Allen are close. Allen began her new role the year after Dempsey left, “at a time when we were really broken,” Pompeo says. “And so much of our problems were perpetuated by bad male management. Debbie came in at a time when we really, really needed a breath of fresh air, and some new positive energy.”

Pompeo continues with a laugh: “Debbie really brought in a spirit to the show that we had never seen — we had never seen optimism! We had never seen celebration. We had never seen joy!”

According to Pompeo, Allen began advocating for her to have more humane hours — Fridays off (Pompeo: “And I was like, ‘What? What? Fridays off?’”) — and for the show to shoot 12-hour days maximum, and ideally no more than 10 hours (Pompeo: “And I was like, I love this woman.”).

Allen speaks affectionately about her bond with Pompeo. “Coming out of Boston, she’s so earthy and real in a way that you might not know,” Allen says. “There’s a sisterhood between us — I guess you would say it’s almost a Blackness that exists between us. And she’s part of our tribe.”

Allen has been a key member of the “Grey’s Anatomy” brain trust since Season 12, and two seasons later, Vernoff returned to run the show. She’d left at the end of Season 7, consulted on “Private Practice” for a few years, and then went to Showtime’s “Shameless” for five seasons. As her contract was set to expire, Rhimes asked Vernoff to lunch, and told her she wanted her to take over. “It felt like she was saying, ‘Hey, our kid needs you,’” Vernoff says.

Before accepting the offer, Vernoff had to catch up on the show. She had always written “Grey’s” as a romantic comedy, and what she saw on-screen during her binge was dark as hell — especially after Derek’s death. “If this show that you are currently making is the show that you want ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ to be,” she recalls telling Rhimes, “I am, in fact, not the right writer for it.” But Rhimes was insistent, saying it was time for a change after the mourning period for Derek.

Vanessa Delgado, who started as a production intern during the seventh season and has worked her way up to being lead editor and co-producer, says the show’s trajectory shifted when Vernoff came back — it was a return to the original, saucier tone of “Grey’s.” “We changed the music completely,” Delgado says. “The dialogue felt lighter and more fun, and wewere having fun again.”

That lightness will be difficult to maintain this year, of course, when, as Allen puts it, “COVID is No. 1 on the call sheet right now.”

Vernoff at first wondered whether “Grey’s” should ignore the coronavirus, thinking the audience comes to the show “for relief.” But the doctors in the writers’ room convinced her this wasn’t the time for escapism, saying to her, “This is the biggest medical story of our lifetime, and it is changing medicine permanently.”

When they’ve had doctors and nurses come speak with them this season, Vernoff says, “they were different human beings than the people we’ve been talking to every year. And I want to honor that, tonally. I just want to inspire people to take care of each other.”

Pompeo, who is not shy about offering criticism, sounds positively enthusiastic: “I’ll say the pilot episode to this season — girl, hold on.

“What nobody thinks we can continue to do, we have done. Hold on. That’s all we’re going to say about that!”

Pompeo has a few more months before she decides whether she wants to continue — and as Rhimes and ABC have made clear in recent years, the show will likely end when she leaves. “I don’t take the decision lightly,” Pompeo says. “We employ a lot of people, and we have a huge platform. And I’m very grateful for it.”

“You know, I’m just weighing out creatively what can we do,” she says. “I’m really, really, really excited about this season. It’s probably going to be one of our best seasons ever. And I know that sounds nuts to say, but it’s really true.”

Vernoff doesn’t worry about the creative well drying up. “We’ve blown past so many potential endings to ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ that I always assume it can go on forever,” she says.

And Wilson knows how important “Grey’s” is to its audience, in that the characters have essentially become people who “live in their house.” As one of only three actors who’ve been on “Grey’s” since the beginning — the other is James Pickens Jr. — Wilson is in it until the end: “In my mind, Bailey is there until the doors close, until the hospital burns down, until the last thing happens on ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’ That is her entire arc.”

Whenever the show does conclude, part of its legacy will be about the talent it launched into the world, beginning with Rhimes, who will soon release her first shows for Netflix, after her company, Shondaland, made a lucrative deal with the streamer in 2017.

But it will also be about the characters of “Grey’s Anatomy”— mostly women and people of color — who are trying to make the world a better place as they find friendship, love and community.

“The show, at its core, brings people together,” Pompeo says. “And the fact that people can come together and watch the show, and think about things they may not have ordinarily thought about, or see things normalized and humanized in a way that a lot of people really need to see — it helps you become a better human being. If this show has helped anybody become a better human being, then that’s the legacy I’d love to sit with.”

[nileqt87]

Despair For Castiel: A Review

From a series of posts before and after watching:

Before:

As far as I'm concerned, I'm now imagining the Empty having to deal with Gabriel and Balthazar redecorating the Empty into the angel/demon afterlife (probably with a lot of wacky alternate realities and bad porno) with all the free will angels and redemptive demons invited, Cas finding Meg and eventually Jack again for his true happy ending that he can have and Crowley probably trying to install himself as king again. Then when Rowena finally exits as Queen of Hell, she'll join and Crowley will annoyed, but Gabriel will be happy to see her again. LOL.

Megstielers also got robbed hard with all that setup of Cas still pining for Meg for YEARS, the Empty using her image (not Dean!) to taunt him (the Empty clearly saw Meg in Cas' head when it could have taken the form of anyone, including Cas like last time) and a whole dropped plot thread that Cas made a deal with Ruby to break a demon out of the Empty, which only makes sense with the one and only demon he'd actually want to let out of the Empty. That's dangling one 'ship a whole bunch of carrots (like every single Clarence reference for a decade) to rip the rug out from under them.

I suppose I should've seen it coming when the previously on segment for 15x13 was a Pizza Man and the Babysitter retrospective that shoved Cas out of the Pizza Man role beside Babysitter Nurse Meg to shove Dean into Megstiel's sexy times meme. I guess it turned Cas into just Dean's Baby in a Trench Coat (which was an insult about being useless to Dean's cause without powers, which suggests Cas has no worth to him otherwise), since he got infantilized with the removal of the Pizza Man originally being him.

I still haven't watched the episode. The Tumblr crap is that off-putting.

What should've been an epic moment in Cas' story is now tainted by his love of humanity, found family and free will (his real love story is with all of humanity and finding belonging, in spite of always being on the outside looking in on a life he can't have because he's not human) being reduced to horny girls who just want fetish smut with Dean and don't give a fig about canon Cas outside of a toxic, abusive crack!ship. It's always so immature and vapid!

It was immediately clear when I joined the fandom that shockingly few gave a crap about any character but Dean, even refusing to see what he's become in later seasons. Also numerous examples where they admit having not seen the show in a decade or only knowing the show via manipulative .gif sets. Cas and Sam (if they remember him at all) are just props or prizes to be won. They ignore context of familial/platonic relationships. Canon love interests aren't good enough because they're not the big prize of being a main. I also note the deluge of Wincest girls who hate Cas for existing (he's in their way) in the anti-Destiel tag.

I can't say the .gifs are making me want to watch, even though the dialog is vague enough to still fit Cas' actual character for the general audience who isn't glued to social media.

As for Dean's non-reaction, I had similar problems with Jensen's constipated acting back in 15x03 when Cas finally walked away while Dean looked like he couldn't care less, which the writers coincidentally praised Jensen for (holy crap that interview was up his backside) and completely ignored Misha actually giving a good performance in a scene that actually meant something long coming for Cas. I certainly can't say the same about the quality of this scene, which just looks forced on both ends.

I hope I like the episode more than the sounds of it, but my hopes aren't high. This is not how I wanted Cas' final moments on the show to be.

After:

Well, I got up the stomach to watch it tonight. Thankfully, in context, it definitely got blown way out of proportion by what the Hellers turned it into (as usual). Yeah, even when watching while unfortunately not blind to the wackadoodle fandom discourse, it played out better on screen than the .gifs. And frankly, a whole lot less like creepy Care Bear stare nightmare fuel than the few choice screenshots kept showing (yikes). I still wish Sam and Jack had been there, because they're just as much part of what connected Cas to feeling like part of a family (even more so in the later years), but it's not the total monstrosity it was turned into online.

Average viewers who just take canon as is without trying to read into it what they want to be there instead, IMO, will safely interpret it platonically (even if coming after a particularly hellish few years in Dean's personality rot where the whole friendship was beginning to be questionable) more often than not because that's what the canon has said for a dozen years. Again, I repeat that Cas already told the Winchesters he loved them when he thought he was dying.

It's a crime to have Cas' perfect philia (brotherly), storge (parental) and agape-style (sacrificial and unconditional) loves being immaturely twisted into eros in a way that degrades the whole meaning of the character's journey. People telling each other they love one another when it's not sexual should never be mocked into being afraid to do so because of this insidious, willful misinterpretation. If only somebody had told Cas they love him instead of him always being the one with his heart on his sleeve!

This character went from being tortured into a robotic, emotionless, ancient, not-remotely-humanoid being who couldn't relate to the simplest of human needs to being someone deeply in love with humanity and wanting to find belonging amongst it despite knowing it would always end with him watching them all grow old and die after having families and such experiences angels are forbidden from having (another reason why Jack was so important to Cas' story).

The wording is valid for that philia/agape interpretation, given Cas definitely equated Dean (whom Cas watched sacrificing himself for Sam endlessly, including why he had to be raised from perdition in the first place) with a guide role in his learning to understand humanity and proudly-defiant free will before he could love it. It's valid enough to say that Cas wouldn't have broken his programming permanently without being challenged to question everything he'd ever believed and give up his entire angelic belonging. That much of it did begin with Cas just happening to be the angel who succeeded in the Hell rescue.

Obviously, it's also canon that Cas had a long history of not following orders and getting lobotomized by Naomi, but Cas actually understanding humanity and what free will means did happen only after this particular rebellion. I'm very glad at least that was in the speech, but of course, it's being hopelessly ignored.

I stand by my interpretation that what Cas can't have has always been the tragic version of The Little Mermaid where she turns into sea foam in the end. Cas has always looked in on what everyone else takes for granted from the outsider's perspective. There's a part of him that will always be left out, no matter how well he learns to fit in and how much those around him begin to treat him as a real person. Cas never really got to truly belong with humanity, no matter how much he loves and is loved by it. He's also not getting to stay where he wants to be. There's no Pinocchio ending for Cas that turns him into a real Winchester.

Sadly, Dean's constant othering of him and Jack like they're just more monsters to hunt only alienated them more. Jack was someone Cas could relate to as a supernatural being capable of human emotions, which might also have furthered his draw towards Meg. Sam was also someone Cas could relate to as freaks and abominations amongst their own kinds. Sam always had that same struggle, also with his own family. It goes a long way towards explaining why Sam was always so empathetic to Cas and Jack in a way that Dean couldn't be. All three kept conflicting with that black & white humans = good/other = bad mindset that sometimes creeps in with Dean. When Cas was Dean's "best friend" in the early days, he rationalized it by thinking of Cas as being "like" a human ("You used to be human, or at least like one.").

Yet it still remains true that Cas often found himself looking to Dean to teach him about humanity back when he didn't know enough about it to be inconspicuous amongst them. Dean gave him the crash course in both what humanity is willing to do for each other, but also its flaws and failings at the same time.

Perhaps the saddest scenes in the episode were actually Sam watching everyone poof in front of him. Sam has really been forced to watch a lot of death scenes this season all by himself (as with Rowena), but he looked the most broken by Eileen's. Cas is going to be hard on him, because I genuinely think Sam was far closer to him in the end. Sam was the one who actually was trying to reach out to Cas when Dean repeatedly kept him out of the loop. Sam being left out from the final words with Cas or even hearing first-hand about the deal with the Empty just furthers that tragedy. While Dean has been raging at everything in sight, Sam and Cas have both looked broken, sad and tired all season.

[trying-write-fanfics]

Hitoshi Shinso X Reader part 5

“I wanna see if you’re actually an extra or not.”

 Though Benny didn’t know the exact meaning of what Bakugo’s words he knew that the simplest meaning was an invitation to a fight. So bakusquad, Shinso, and Midoriya began to watch the beginning of a fight.

“And go!”

 Shinso didn't like Bakugo, but assumed he would win. It was a superior quirk to being able to walk on walls. It would be the same problem with Urakaka verse Bakugo match the year before. Benny charged at Bakugo and he readied his hands. His put both hands out and Benny jumped like a dolphin out of water, a little higher than anyone was expecting. Bakugo shot an explosion and Benny managed to grab his wrists and hold on despite the blow. 

“What the-“

 Through the smoke, Benny still held onto Bakugo’s wrists and jumped and like magnets, his feet crashed into Bakugo’s face taking him to the ground. Still holding his wrists, Benny stood over Bakugo, removing his feet. His shirt was burned, and his hair was ruffled, but Benny didn’t look too bad from having an explosion happen in his face. His teeth even sparkled when he smiled. 

“Get off of me.” Bakugo growled. 

 “I’ll let you go, but in wrestling that’s a win!” 

“Oh my god how did you do that!” Mina squealed. “You’re a hunk and you beat Bakugo! He’s unbeatable!”

“I’ll help you up-“ Kirishima offered a reluctant Bakugo. 

“Well when you’ve been boxing as long as I have, a little explosion isn’t going to knock you out.” Benny explained acting like this was a regular Tuesday while Bakugo was questioning everything. 

That guy, that random guy who goes to a general private school was able to beat Bakugo and smile afterwards all from what he thought was the best training for him. Bakugo had heard of the trio’s quirks and thought they had god complex’s for being too good for hero schools and even being too good for the best one UA. Instead it looked like they were right. 

“Aren’t you punched in the head when you’re boxing, how did you handle my explosion in the gut, pretty boy?” Bakugo yelled. 

“I get punched in the gut often. Having a healer like (nick name) is great when you’re trying to build up your body’s defense. Get knocked around a little bit, heal up, get knocked up some more.” He explained. “As long as it’s not too extreme.”

Bakugo’s mind was going a million miles an hour. A lot of it was making sense, but he didn’t want to carry out the same route. Not only would those three would always be ahead of him, but he knew he needed his own path to sculpt his own future.

 “What are your guy’s training routine?” Midoriya aksed Benny as Bakugo wandered off. 

Benny explained that mornings before school they trained their body’s with a run and weight training. Then they go to school, but due to their program they get out an hour early. For Benny that extra hour he meets with his hero teacher for mostly combat and rescue training. Other days it could be quirk training. Depending on the season, Benny does sports but mostly boxing since it’s year round for him. He is also a god in most other ones but narrows it down to which ever one fits his schedule best. Weekends is when he trains with the other two and their teachers. He explained that L/n’s quirk training was working at the hospital where she learns to heal injuries and illnesses in different ways. They’re hoping to expand this training to more serious illnesses, but the hospital board can’t do much unless L/n get the right certifications and training which cannot be given out to someone her age or lack of medical education. Quirks are nice, but there are standards in place. Blaze’s schedule is the most different because half of her quirk training relies on L/n being around to recharge her body, and the other half is her own recovery. Depending on how long she’s in her flame body the harder it is to move her actual body when she goes back to normal. She misses school and currently had better control over it but still struggles. Over school breaks is when she’s allowed test her limits. 

“I’m just the luckiest out of the three of us. My quirk doesn’t burden me one bit.” Benny stretched. “I guess that’s why (nickname) and Sonny really bonded and dated.”

“They dated…?” Midoriya repeated.

“It’s on and off. They’re off right now, I just hope it doesn’t mess with our future plans.”

Shinso was reminded of a fact he tried not thinking about. That L/n was constantly around an ex that doesn’t stay an ex. It wasn’t his business but he thought if she dated someone else it might fix Benny’s dilema. He felt gross thinning of the situation that way. 

“They seemed to be good friends.” Midoriya said.

“We all are. Those feelings are bound to happen when you spend so much time together. But just don’t mention it to them. It’s more of their kind of thing to tell you if they get back together, which I hope they don’t.” Benny explained. “I enjoy my movie nights with them without them making out and fighting.”

“Oh are they...toxic.” Mirodirya whispered.

“No it’s just dumb Shit like what actress or actor was cuter or the overall best snack. They take it too far sometimes but not toxic. They’re just not right. Have you ever had a girlfriend?” Benny asked Mirdoriya 

“What me!” The green boy got flustered. “No...not...yet.”

“What about you purple?”

“No….”

“I thought you guys would have tons of babes. You’re in the best hero course known to the public.”

“Guess we haven’t met a lot of superficial people.” Shinso said. “What about you?”

He did look like a fake teenager.

“Nothing official. I’ve flirted, dabbled in a couple kisses. I just don’t feel it for myself too much.” Benny said.

 Shinso and Midoriya changed into the locker room. It didn’t feel like they were friends, but he felt a curiosity about Benny and the other two girls. He was glad he could hang of Midoriya to develop more rapport with the attractive teen. Outside they found L/n waiting for Benny. She was in casual clothes and that only amplified his thoughts on the girl. The uniform didn’t do much, but her clothing choice gave him more of an idea what she really looked like and of course she was even prettier than last time. 

“Aw did you come by to pick me up, buddy?” Benny asked L/n.

“I didn’t know if you’d need healing or not. You have a tendency to get into fights.” She laughed. “Nice to see you two again. I hope Benny isn’t too much trouble.” 

 “He’s helping me actually with my hero journals.” Midoriya explained. 

“Wow look at that someone already thinks you’re a hero Benny.” 

“He has one for everyone.” Benny said. 

“What about you, Shinso? What are the special hero facts about you?” L/n asked.

Again he was acknowledged by her, his blood thawed as her warm smile could melt ice. 

“I’ve been mostly building up my body right now.” He told her. 

“His hero name is mind jack!” Mirdoirya told them. 

“That’s pretty cool. You’re jacking people’s minds!” L/n said. 

 “Well we should get going, we don’t wanna walk around in the dark, so spooky.” Benny said stretching. 

They said their goodbyes and left. Again Shinso wanted to pretend this rapid heart beat meant nothing, but he couldn’t lie to himself because not even that deep down he knew his feelings.

[desertislandcloud]

Ulrik Munther is the first to admit that self-doubt can get the better of him. But you might be daunted too if you were about to release the most honest and thought-provoking work of your career.

At just 27, Munther is already a seasoned artist with years of industry experience. Signed as a teenager to Universal Music in Sweden after winning the prestigious Melody Grand Prix Nordic competition with an original song, he also achieved viral fame with his endearing cover of Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way”. Three albums followed, all charting in the top five in Munther’s home country. “I grew up in the public eye… I was sort of a teen idol,” he says, wincing a little at the term. “I've been seeking an audience that digs a bit deeper into lyrics and has more of the same shared world view.” He adds, laughing: “I want to make new friends!”

Fans of Munther’s old music would have trouble recognising him now. His new album, Put Your Self Out There, is an astounding work that shows a young man grown wise from experience, but one who is still deeply curious about the world. Munther has a philosophical mind. He thrives on ideas, and on a willingness to challenge and be challenged on important subjects. This music shows him standing on the edge, ready to set sail on a new adventure.

“What I want to say most with this music is probably, be yourself and be honest,” he says from his home in Gothenburg. “To think about things a little more.” While he always knew he wanted to create music, his introduction to the industry at such a young age meant that he was, perhaps, steered in a direction that didn’t quite fit. “At that age you’re very impressionable,” he says, nodding. “It’s easier to trust someone older than to trust yourself.” Feeling somewhat jaded, he took a break from his flourishing pop career and began writing with renowned Swedish author and comedian Jonas Gardell. This marked the first step towards the most personal project of his career to date. “I want this album to lay a foundation I can build on,” he says.

Listeners will recognise the clear influence of Bon Iver in the quirky opener, “Apartment Girl”, on which Munther’s voice appears distorted, both youthful and brittle with experience. Album single “C’est La Vie” is an uplifting track that has the narrator pushing aside his fear of the unknown and embracing a newfound optimism: “I’m cleaning out my closet/ Some I’ll keep but some I’ll toss and/ That’s alright you know, gonna have to let things go/ Say goodbye, say hello.” It’s a feeling that Munther knows all too well. “I’m quite introverted, and I have a tendency to get stuck in my own head,” he says. “But if you overthink things too much, you’ll never do anything with your life.”

Put Your Self Out There has, ironically, a distinctly insular feel, providing the sense that Munther has created his own world in which to express himself. Despite this, the music itself is expansive, bringing to mind a landscape painting where, the closer you look, the more detail you discover. This was achieved with the help of a tightknit team that includes producer Johan Eckeborn (known especially for his work on Swedish artist Jonathan Johansson’s critically acclaimed record, En Hand I Himlen). They found themselves discussing philosophy and religion alongside music, and Munther took on new ideas that were fed into these songs. “We’re in a strange climate right now, where we tend to want to find people with the exact same values as us,” he says. “But if you judge others, you judge yourself. That’s something that’s really sunk in, in the last couple of years. I'm trying to be a lot more open-minded, and I think that's what I'm trying to inspire people to be as well.”

Munther’s ability to express himself transpires in his bruised but stoic music; the piercing, emotional tones of his voice are heightened by deftly constructed compositions. “Don’t Worry” opens on a soft flurry of piano notes falling like autumn leaves. You hear the sharp, steady clack of the percussion, a clock hand announcing the inevitable passing of time. An infinitesimal change in tempo marks a resolution to be swept up, as Munther delivers the title in a soaring falsetto then a comforting murmur until it becomes a mantra. “Gloom” is his letter to himself – a disarmingly candid one – in which he questions what’s left once the trappings of fame and fortune are removed. As the song reaches the close, his voice becomes muffled, yet the synths push through, like rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds. “I’ll meet you at the summit,” he promises. “When I’m out of this gloom.”

Throughout the album, Munther reminds us that we can be our own worst critics. Yet he takes his own advice and never obsesses over making this music “perfect” – as a consequence, he achieves something very close to it. The songs are beautiful precisely because of their flaws, recalling the experimental nature of Ben Howard’s most recent, and best, work. Sufjan Stevens fans will revel in the succinctness of Munther’s lyrics, the frankness of his declarations. “It’s not as complicated as I tend to make it,” he sings on the gospel-influenced “Man in Need”, “But I overthink everyf***ing thing.”

“I’m trying to be very honest,” he says. “Not in a dramatic way, but reflective. And I definitely didn’t want the music to sound too polished.” To avoid the risk of overwhelming his audience with such candour, Munther injects a wry tone into some of the songs, such as the self-aware closer, “Come Find Me”. Others are misnomers designed to surprise the listener, or even provoke them into a new way of thinking. The memorably titled “Big Dick” was the last song to be written during sessions at a studio based just outside of Stockholm. Munther found himself on a train observing a man and his girlfriend: “He was a really cocky guy, the crotch-first type, you know?” Rather than mock him, Munther chose instead to pen a tender acoustic number that seeks to understand what some might dismiss as toxic masculinity. “There are too many walls/ And I don’t have the tools or a number you can call,” he sings.

“This song came from the knowledge that there are so many people you can’t reach, you can’t get through to them,” Munther explains. “These people who feel they have to be smart, the ones who place value in material things. They’re often actually very insecure.” At the time, he recalled the saying, “Hurt people hurt people.” He still thinks about it. “People who need to show off, they must be so lonely,” he says. “Not able to be vulnerable, or be wrong.” Watching this man provoked feelings of frustration in Munther, not at the man himself, but at a society that, despite all its modern methods of communication, often fails to do precisely that. As a multilingual musician, Munther knows all too well the frustrations of feeling unable to translate his innermost feelings. Yet he refuses to preach: “I’m so aware that everything I know, I’ve learned from someone else.” The album title is a cliché for a reason, he says, smiling. “I just want to be courageous enough to have hope.” https://twitter.com/MuntherUIrik https://www.youtube.com/user/UlrikMuntherTV https://www.instagram.com/ulrikmunther