#like what are you supposed to do when you’re trying to build a network of people to support eachother but literally everyone is flaky

[lakeeffectbitch]

would love to have one family member who could help me move a piece of furniture without it making me want to cry out of frustration or to have one local friend who actually responds when I ask for help

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[ladyloveandjustice]

Anime Expo Day 2 Report: Dungeon Meshi live draw panel

I'm on my way hope and can finally sit down and make a log of my Anime Expo Journey, day by day/

Here's the Friday report:

I attended the Dungeon Meshi panel on Friday! I made sure to do so by sitting through the end of the Gundam panel and the whole Terminator Zero panel to make sure I was in the room (they don’t clear between panels). The terminator anime actually does look pretty cool! Jacki from Anime News Network was hosting and she’s so enthusiastic you get swept up. I did feel bad she kept commenting on how big the crowd was when I’m pretty sure at least half had the same idea I had and were there for Dunmeshi. But hopefully it got people who wouldn’t have considered it (like me, I do like Terminator but it wasn't on my radar) interested!

As has gone around the internet, the panel got hijacked by a guy carrying a boom box and waving an anarchy flag and a person singing (badly). It was very confusing, they got on stage and at first I thought it was part of the show, but then I realized the singing person was shirtless and had their tits out under the jacket they were wearing and was like probably not. Someone in the audience mentioned it was a Panty and Stocking song. They were demanding we dance, we all realized they weren’t supposed to be there and started booing. A guy behind me yelled “you’re being disrespectful!!!” which I thought was a very wholesome reaction. They proceeded to flip us all off. People were yelling “where’s security” and they finally came and slowly hauled them away. The person said “something something gay something” and someone yelled something back and I guess it’s a good thing my hearing is bad. As they were hauled off, they deliberately opened their jacket and flashed their tits as like, a screw you, like we all hadn’t already seen them.

Fortunately Trigger staff weren’t on the stage as this happened, just the host (who I felt bad for). The director, Yoshihiro Miyajima, and character designer, Naoki Takeda, came out and one of them joked “what a special guest!”

Now onto the stuff that actually matters:

We were shown a ton of concept art (no lines all colors, can’t remember what that’s called) and everyone screamed like crazy when it got to Marcille and Falin in the bath. There were quite a few screams for necromancer Marcille. Unfortunately we weren’t allowed to take pix.

There was also a live draw for the characters. We were allowed to pick two by yelling out who we wanted (I yelled Marcille and Falin) There was a huge coordinated chant for Senshi but that was kind of ignored and they chose Marcille and Izutsumi. We did get to take a picture of that:

The producer was actually recording the whole panel for a future Youtube vid, walking among the audience (he almost fell getting off the stage at one point which was a little scary since he was pretty elderly) and he was so enthusiastic and adorable.

Fans got to line up and ask questions and some notable ones I wrote down:

What monster would you eat if you were in the dungeon? "I wouldn’t want to eat any of it honestly, but if I had to choose, the Red Dragon".

“Which part of Falin would you want to eat if you had to?” “The dragon portion, definitely.” “Which part?” “The thighs look delicious. I want to make it clear I’m talking about the dragon here”.

Someone asked about the added Senshi panty shots, and the director responded “very keen”. And then said to ask the animators because they were the ones who added them. He also said “look forward to the future”.

After the picture was finished, one of them mentioned that Izutsumi was just like their cat who runs away whenever he tried to pet it.

I did try to get into the Bocchi panel since it was just upstairs and an hour after Dunmeshi finished, but they made us go outside the building and come back in, I guess to be fair, but that obviously meant I got there too late. I waited in line but it was capped.

[sweetbbyshion]

brokenhearted (chapter 3)

-> Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x fem!reader

summary: "How can I hit rewind so I could find a single reason why you would leave with no goodbye"

Touya walked into your life with no warning and settled himself in your heart. But how do you expect to build a relationship based on lies and betrayals?

warnings: major character death, mentions of sex, angst, no happy ending

masterlist -> previous chapter

networks: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork @love-and-fiction

You don't know exactly when Touya stops showing up at your doorstep. It's gradually, you think. First, he only shows up whenever he needed a good fuck - a way to let out some steam. Everything is too fast. Most times, you don't even get your clothes off before Touya is pushing you against any surface to fuck you; then, he starts spending less and less time with you - completely ignoring aftercare or anything related to your well-being in general. The hero leaves before you catch your breath. On those days, you just lay in bed crying with the painful bruises to remind you that none of this is just a nightmare; lastly, you simply stop seeing him.

You held onto the hope that Touya was just too busy but days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and, when you realize, it has been 159 days since you last saw him. You spend sleepless nights figuring out if you should blame yourself for his disappearance but you can't seem to find a reason why you are at fault. But you must be, right? There has to be something you're missing. Another part of you is scared that Touya is dead in some alley and no one found him yet. The memories of your first meeting keep replaying in your head and you're afraid history repeated itself, except you weren't there to save him.

The TV is on and serves as background noise to try and drown your thoughts as you helplessly try to study for your upcoming exam but a change of the image has you turning your head to pay attention to the television. Your heart stops at the sight. Touya is sitting on a couch, shirtless, shoulders down. He looks the same but you still have to take a double look. Touya has always seemed light and happy around you but this Touya looks… dead.

“I am Touya Todoroki.” The sound of his voice after so long makes tears form in your eyes. It almost makes you brush past the famous surname that leaves his mouth. “The eldest son of Endeavor.”

You get up and make your way until you're standing in front of the TV. You stare and stare at the image of Touya on the screen and you pinch yourself hard to wake up from the sick dream you're having. “To date, I’ve killed over 30 innocent people in cold blood and today I’d like everyone to know exactly what drove me to such despicable acts.”

You run to your phone and search his name online. Hundreds of people are already talking about it. News articles after news articles talk about ‘Dabi’ and everything that is known about the villain. You read those stories as your Touya speaks about his past in the background. This has to be some sick joke. A link to a livestream has you shakingly click on your screen, redirecting you for some streaming app. The fight already had started by the time you finished downloading and setting up an account. Touya (or Dabi, you’re not sure what to call him anymore) is destroying himself while all you can do is watch. For a bit, you think whether or not you should intervene but what were you supposed to do? You were a quirkless civilian that just so happened to have a sort of situationship with a wanted criminal. You would get held back or killed before you even managed to talk to Touya.

So you watch. You watch the blurred images of your Touya fighting and destroying his body along the way through tears, with sobs that shake your body and have you gasping for air. You watch your Touya get engulfed in flames as he gives his all to destroy the man who he claimed to be his father. You watched until you couldn't watch anymore, stopping just as the camera was about to move to show his unmoving body on the floor.

Incoming messages from a groupchat with your friends have you putting the device on ‘do not disturb’ so you don’t see what they are saying about the man you once dreamt of introducing to them as your boyfriend, your lover.

You let your body fall back on the couch. You cry until you can’t cry anymore, your tears dry, your sobs stop and the room is silent. You sit there looking at the TV in front of you, your reflection staring back, and you wait for Touya to come knocking at your door. You tell yourself it is just a joke - Touya will be coming back to you, smirking when you open the door while knowing you will be tending his wounds gently.

“Touya… this isn’t funny anymore.” you speak up. There’s no reply. “You’re always getting hurt. I have to keep restocking the first aid kit because of you.” You laugh but there’s no happiness behind it. “Seriously I’m going to be broke soon because of you… Either way, I’ll always take care of you. So pl-ease come home.” And just like that you’re back to sobbing loudly, totally alone in your small apartment. You keep begging Touya to be okay, hiccups making your speech barely understandable but it doesn't matter because you’re alone. Lonely on the couch where you spent so many good moments, you beg for the man who put you together just to break you again. Curled up on the couch and with the feeling of a knife stabbing your heart, you’re undoubtedly alone.

Losing Touya hurts. It keeps hurting for days and weeks and months. It never stops working but the pain becomes bearable. At least, that is what you tell yourself. You hated Touya (or Dabi, you’re still not sure what to call him) for a few weeks. You despised him for lying and for not telling you even in his final moments. You hated that you couldn't sit on the couch without thinking about him but you also couldn't sleep on the bed because of all the moments you spent there. You loathed that he still made you cry everyday before sleeping, curled up on the floor because it seemed to be the only place that didn't fill you with love and grief.

Those negative feelings for Touya prevailed until you saved up enough money to remodel your whole apartment. You didn't leave. You hated Touya Todoroki but you never left the place that reminded you of him the most. Part of you doesn't want to feel like he won - you didn't want to leave your home because of a messed up relationship. The other part was hopeful that Touya would be back one day - you couldn't risk moving places and never seeing him again.

After you stopped hating him, you started missing him. You would find yourself cooking his favorite and then setting two plates on the table. You would talk about your day and ramble about whatever was going on in your life. Silence was your only answer but you still talked. “Your little brother was on the news today. I didn't pay much attention but he looks just like you. I bet you’re proud of it, uhm?” You would say. Silence. “You always said you couldn't make amends with your siblings but I think you should try.” More deafening silence. “I know you don't like to talk about it. Anyways, work was chaotic today.”

This period of yearning never ended, unlike the time where you hated him. You changed your routine to accommodate Touya and never went back to normal.

Your friends noticed the way you changed so drastically but nothing was enough to get you to talk like you do late at night when you think you’re sharing your thoughts with Touya. They recommended therapy but you couldn't tell what had happened. You couldn't do that to him. So you played pretend. You smiled, laughed and everything went back to normal when you were outside the house. But you knew better and the void inside you was eating you slowly. You think everything would get fixed if you just had one person to talk to but you were alone. At some point, you were so desperate that you considered going to his family. Maybe you could share your moments with Touya, show them he was more than the villain TV portrayed. You end up coming to the conclusion that it is a bad idea.

Despite everything you live your life the best way you can without the man that changed your perception of love forever. You don't date or even try to even if your friends insist. You don’t look for Touya in other men and try to fill the void he left. You survive while ignoring “Why aren't you married?” and “Is there anyone special in your life?” and a hundred other questions that people in your life throw at you. You spend your days surrounded by people but still lonely and empty. You die young but with a feeling free after so many years tied up by sadness. In your final moments, you are alone. You pray to whoever is listening that you will meet Touya again, whether it is in heaven, hell, or in your next life.

You die just like you lived - isolated and hoping you will be with Touya Todoroki again, even if only in your dreams.

[missywritesfor7]

Coffee | KSJ

Synopsis: You find yourself working another late night in the office alone. You’re used to it, but things aren’t as typical this night. You start to think maybe your office building is haunted. What’s really hiding in your workplace?

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: my bad attempt at humor

It’s not unusual for you to have to stay in the office late into the night sometimes. It’s been a normal part of your job since you started there a year ago. What’s not so normal is the amount of technical issues you’ve had to face tonight between your computer forcing you to restart it immediately and the suddenly unstable internet connection.

You don’t mind staying late, that’s one of the few times you can get some peace. You can turn your music on and dance your way through your work. You don’t have to listen to the one coworker who has a strong opinion about everything, or smell the one who keeps burning their popcorn in the microwave making it essentially unusable for 24-48 hours. There’s no one constantly standing over your shoulder or the one really sweet coworker who unfortunately doesn’t know when to stop talking. Honestly, if it were up to you, you’d prefer to work these hours when you can be left alone.

The internet disconnects once again and you’re nearly fed up. You decide to go to the break room for a drink of water in hopes that the internet is back when you return to your desk. All of the lights in the building are motion sensor so the lights all turn on the moment you stand up.

The light feels blinding at this hour so you manually turn them back off and go into the break room where the lights turn on in there once you enter. You cringe then grab a cup and pour yourself some water from the dispenser. It seems someone had been in there earlier and left a half drank cup of coffee and a plate with nothing but crumbs sitting on the counter. You shake your head and sigh at how people can be so messy. You take it upon yourself to throw everything out once you finish your water.

The office is dark on all sides. The break room is in the middle of the floor with desks and office space on each side. The other side is for a different department which you hardly see except during company events or when you happen to go in the break room the same time as one of them. There’s only a few faces from that side that you recognize. Actually there’s only one face you recognize because it’s probably your favorite face in the entire office. Too bad you don’t even know his name, but damn he looks good.

You shake your head at the thought and bring yourself back to the present. You look over towards the other side of the office which is also dark and think of how lucky they must be that they never work late like you always do, but it’s also good because that gives you the solitude you enjoy.

You go back to your desk to see the internet is still down. You decide to do a little troubleshooting to the best of your ability to try fixing it. You follow the steps the computer’s troubleshooter guides you through until it tells you to provide the serial number for the router.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that?” You mumble to yourself.

You’re ready to give up and go home and just deal with the additional work tomorrow, but you decide to at least try to find the router as your last attempt to fix it. You grab a pad of sticky notes and a pen and go in search of the router.

You aren’t too sure where it is but you know there’s a small room where all of the network connection devices are. To your surprise the door to the room is wide open when it normally would be closed. You don’t think much of it and go inside to look for the router. Thankfully everything is labeled so it’s not hard for you to find it, but you notice it’s unplugged. You can’t imagine why it’s unplugged or why someone had the door wide open in the first place, but something about it all is starting to seem suspicious.

You write the serial number down just in case then reach your hand behind the shelf the router is on and plug it back in. You shut the door as you leave and go back out to your desk to see that’s all it took and the internet is back connected. You still don’t know why it was unplugged in the first place or how since you’ve been here all day and there wasn’t a problem until recently. Either way, you get back to working so you can hurry and go home.

It seems you didn’t hurry enough and a few minutes later the internet goes out again.

“What the fuck?” You grumble. This is starting to get old and highly annoying.

You go back to the router and see that not only is the door open again but it’s unplugged again as well.

“What the hell is going on?” You don’t want to overreact but you’re definitely starting to get nervous.

You look around the room and see nothing. You plug the router back in and leave shutting the door behind you. On your way back to your desk you make another stop in the break room for another cup of water. Things are weird and you just need a drink to keep your composure.

While you’re sipping your water you notice the cup of coffee is somehow on the counter again. You know you poured it out and threw the cup away so you have no clue how a new cup of coffee appeared. There’s not even any coffee being made in the coffee maker, and the coffee seems to be room temperature as if it had been there a while.

None of this is normal so you poke your head around while staying safely close to the well lit break room. There’s no one on your side of the office and you can’t see a single person on the other side of the office. When you step into the area the motion lights don’t even come on, which they should since you only turned the lights off on your side of the office.

You take a few more steps around looking for signs of life, but you find nothing. There’s no one there. No one asleep at their desks. No computers left on. Not a soul in sight. You don’t know where the phantom coffee is coming from, but you figure it’s best to get back to work and hopefully get out of there quickly.

You return to your desk to begin working again when the power on the entire floor goes out. You’re about to bang your head on the desk when you’re startled by a shrill scream that came from somewhere on the floor. You won’t say you’re scared, but your heart rate has spiked and your arms are littered with goosebumps. Part of you wants to investigate, but another part of you would rather pack your things and try again during daylight hours.

You decide to do just that and try again tomorrow. You start to gather your things then the power returns. Maybe it’s not worth the fight. Plus you’re tired and hungry. You shut your computer down and head for the elevator.

“AISHHH!!!”

A loud yell rips through the office again and you duck for cover out of instinct. You’re quietly listening for anyone but you hear nothing else. The power flickers again delaying your elevator escape. Clearly there’s someone here so you decide maybe they need help.

Against your better judgment, you turn on your phone’s flashlight and slowly make your way in the direction of the scream. You aren’t actually sure where the sound came from so you’re mostly going into this blind. The way your heart is pounding out of your chest doesn’t make things any easier.

Each step you take feels like impending doom. You’re almost certain this is how it feels to walk the plank. When you reach the break room you stop a moment to look around. The cup of coffee is still there seemingly untouched, but a new plate has now replaced the one you threw away earlier.

This time you decide to inspect the other side of the office closer. You didn’t give it a very good look so maybe you missed someone. It’s the only thing you can convince yourself of to keep from panicking. You’re panicking anyway. Every step you take feels like it’s taking years off your life.

You snake through all of the cubicles and even poke your head in the offices to see if there’s anyone around but you find nothing. Not a single sign of life. It’s dark and empty just like the rest of the office.

The power turns back on, but not in the main parts of the office. You turned the lights off on your side and apparently someone did the same to this side. But who? And why? And most importantly, where are they?

With the power running again and your nerves shit, you decided you don’t care enough to stick around any longer. You make your way back towards the elevators when the sound of something crashing behind you scares you out of your skin.

You quickly turn around and see nothing. You run to the light switch and turn all of the lights back on only to see nothing. No one there and nothing that could have fallen and made that sound.

You take quick panicked steps towards the back of the office. You poke your head in the break room to see nothing has changed. You then go towards the room where the router is. The door is only slightly cracked so you throw it open and your soul is sucked clean out of your body when you hear a deafeningly loud scream from a man standing right in the doorway.

“What the fuck?!?!!!!” You scream back in a panic.

“What are you doing here?!?” He yells.

“What are you doing here?!” You shout back.

“Working! What the fuck?!” He clutches his chest and takes a deep breath. “Who are you?!”

He turns on the light and you finally get a look at him. To your surprise, he’s the one guy you recognize who works in the other part of the office. The guy who, although scared to death in this moment, still looks just as handsome as ever.

“Why are you here??” He asks again.

“I was trying to work, what the fuck?”

“Are you the one who threw my coffee away?!” He huffs.

“Are you the one who keeps fucking with the internet?!” You question.

“I’m doing maintenance!”

“By unplugging the router?”

“Duh!” He sasses. “That’s the first step when troubleshooting anything!”

“Why didn’t you just get someone from IT to fix it instead of unplugging it?”

“I am IT!”

“And your solution was to unplug it?”

“It usually works,” he shrugs.

“Wow,” you chuckle. “I guess now that I’ve solved that mystery I’m going to just go home now.”

“Why are you working so late anyway?” He asks.

“I always do,” you shrug. “I’m usually alone though, not being haunted by a coffee drinking IT ghost.”

“You owe me a coffee by the way.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “Do you want me to brew you a pot right now?”

“No, I don’t like that coffee.” He turns and pulls a large bottle out of his backpack that’s sitting on the chair. “I like this coffee.”

He holds up the bottle that is just a juice bottle that’s been emptied and filled with coffee. The label is ripped off and written in marker is ‘Jin’s Brew’ across the bottle.

“Jin’s brew?” You ask. “Who is Jin?”

“I’m Jin!” He stomps his foot. “This is my special brew that I made myself.”

“Ok…how am I supposed to pay you back for your coffee if you only want your special brew? And why do you drink it at room temperature?”

“Can I not have a preference?” He snaps.

“Ok ok, take it easy,” you laugh. “I’m not knocking your preference, just…curious.”

Now that you know he’s not a ghost or an intruder you feel more amused by him. He’s tall with broad shoulders and the face that you wish you could see more than just once or twice a year. At least now you finally know his name is Jin and he works in IT. You start to consider if you should switch to the IT department so you could have some eye candy for once, but mid-thought the power goes out again causing Jin to shriek.

“Stop doing that!” You shout.

“I didn’t do anything!” Jin shouts trying to calm his volume and heart.

“Why does the power keep going out? It’s not even raining!”

“I don’t know.”

“Can’t you figure it out, IT man?”

“IT has nothing to do with power failure!”

Just then you both hear a sound from the other side of the office.

“Who else is here with you?” Jin asks.

“No one,” you say. “Who else is here with you?”

“No one.”

“Ok,” you resolve. “I think I’ll just get out of here because this is crazy.”

“Where are you going to go?” He asks. “The elevators aren’t going to work with no power.”

“I’ll take the stairs.”

“From the 12th floor?”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I didn’t say that, but…maybe we should stick together right?”

“Then come with me,” you offer.

“From the 12th floor??”

Just then a crashing sound rings from another part of the office startling you both again.

“Are you sure you’re alone?” Jin asks quickly grabbing his things.

The lights come back on and it’s a bit blinding after being in the dark. You both pause to listen for anything or anyone around but hear nothing.

“Let’s just get on the elevator before the power goes out again,” he says. “Come on, you have to stay by me because you still owe me a coffee.”

“Really?” You huff following behind him. “How am I supposed to pay you back if you’re a coffee snob?”

“Well excuse me for not wanting to drink the stale coffee in the break room,” he says rolling his eyes.

“Ok then, what other coffee would you drink?”

“Whatever you get me,” he smiles pressing the button for the elevator.

You can’t help but smile back at his big cute smile. He really is the best looking guy in this office. Although he’s being fussy, you can sense the humor in his tone which makes you even more smitten for some reason.

The two of you enter the elevator when it arrives and Jin immediately hits the button for the ground floor. He looks over at you and smiles again.

“I’ve seen you around the office a few times,” he says finally seeming to recognize you. “Didn’t you wear the hot pink unicorn sweater for last year’s ugly sweater contest?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle a little embarrassed. “I didn’t really have any other sweater.”

“I liked it,” he laughs.

“Thanks,” you laugh along. “You can have it because I may never wear it again.”

“Why? It’s perfect.”

Just as the elevator nears the 4th floor, the power goes out again bringing you both to a harsh and immediate stop.

“Nooo!!” Jin wails. “This place is fucking haunted!!”

“Easy there,” you say trying to hold back your laughter. You thought you were scared before, but he’s much worse than you and that makes you feel a bit better. “We just have to wait it out until the power comes back.”

“The walls are closing in,” he says hitting the emergency call button.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you laugh.

“I’m glad you find this funny,” he pouts.

“Just chill. Sit down and just be patient.” You grab his arm and get him to sit on the floor with you.

There’s silence at first. The two of you sit there with your faces dimly lit by the back up lights in the elevator. You aren’t sure what to say now. Who knows how long you two will be stuck here.

“Well…” Jin says digging into his backpack. “We may be here a while so do you want to play Halli Galli?”

“What?” You ask watching him pull out a bell and a deck of cards. “You just…carry that around with you?”

“You never know when a situation will call for a game of Halli Galli.”

“What?” You laugh. “What type of situation would you possibly be in that would call for a game of Halli Galli?”

“The one where I’m stuck in an elevator for an indefinite amount of time with someone.”

“Are you always this funny?”

“Funny? I’m serious. I like to be prepared for anything.”

You stare at him a moment trying to read his expression but he’s hard to read. His tone is playful but somehow he’s keeping a straight face, which for some reason just makes him even funnier to you.

“Do you want to play or not?” He asks dealing the cards.

“You don’t seem to be giving me a choice,” you chuckle.

“Thanks for being a great team player,” he jokes, blessing you with the shadow of his gorgeous smile.

Despite the low visibility, you two begin playing a game of Halli Galli. Mostly it’s him dominating the entire game, but you find yourself actually having fun. You both chat as you continue playing and learn more about each other.

You learn that he’s single, lives alone, he has a brother, and he’s very enthusiastic about the library of games he has on his computer. He tells you more about his special coffee that he made himself. He took a workshop on a whim one day and learned how to create his own blend. He’s quite an interesting person who also makes you wish that the power would stay out for just a bit longer so you could continue talking.

“It’s too bad we don’t see each other in the office more,” Jin says. “Maybe instead of coffee, you can pay me back with something else?”

“Like what?” You ask.

“Any drink of my choice.”

“Ok,” you agree. “What drink do you want?”

“I’ll think about it and get back to you. You have to agree to it any time I say though.”

“Really?” You pout. He nods and you give in to his bread cheeks. “Fine.”

“First we have to get out of this capsule of death.”

“It sounds 100 times more awful when you call it that.”

“I’m sorry,” he teases. “I’ll call it ‘the elevator in which we will die if we aren’t rescued’.”

“That’s better,” you joke.

There’s a loud grumble that echoes through the elevator. Jin looks at you with wide eyes then sighs.

“I’m starving but I already ate most of my snacks,” he pouts. “I only have a few gummies left.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out an open bag of gummy worms. “Want one? There’s 3 left.”

“That’s very gentlemanly of you,” you smile taking the offered worm and popping it in your mouth. Handsome, funny, and sweet. What a package.

Just as you two finish snacking on Jin’s emergency gummies, the power comes back on. The lights in the elevator power on rendering you both blind for a second.

“Finally!” Jin shouts jumping to his feet and punching the button for the ground floor. “I’m so hungry!!” He punches the button again.

“Make it work faster, Mr. IT!” You tease standing up.

“Hush, coffee thief!” He hits the button again and the elevator finally begins to move.

You both breathe a sigh of relief once the elevator finally reaches the bottom and the doors open to the lobby.

“Sweet freedom!” Jin dramatically shouts as he emerges from the elevator.

All you can do is laugh. The building is clearly haunted or something, but you were much less anxious with Jin keeping the mood light, though you’re not even sure if he does it intentionally.

“Come on,” he says grabbing your arm. “There’s a restaurant nearby and you owe me a drink of my choice.”

“Restaurant? Now?” You ask.

“You’re hungry too, aren’t you?” He smiles. “You buy my drink, I’ll buy your food.”

“Wait, how-”

“You can’t say no, remember? That was part of the deal.”

“I wasn’t going to say no,” you chuckle. “I just wanted to know what kind of drink you wanted.”

“After all of this? A strong one,” he laughs.

“Agreed,” you nod. “Let’s go!”

[redbud-tree]

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

My name is Nik, and I have never had a home. Now, before you panic or accuse me of making up stories, I have never been without a roof over my head. But a home is more than that. It’s somewhere you feel safe, somewhere you have family by blood or by choice and a community that you trust and that supports you.

In all my 35 years, I’ve never known what that feels like. But I want to, and that’s what the GoFundMe I've linked below is for.

I spent most of my life raised in a fundamentalist Christianity-based micro-cult in Oklahoma, born to an abusive mother and a chronically ill father. I was homeschooled, isolated, abused and denied medical care, and never taught many of the life skills I desperately needed in order to make it on my own.

I’m autistic and receive social security on account of being diagnosed before the age of 22, who has survived my father passing on from his own debilitating illness in 2014. I think my mother’s goal was to keep me at home and keep profiting off of my disability income for the rest of my life. Mine, not hers, because the stress and misery of it all was killing me, and if my mental health didn’t lead to me taking drastic actions, the lack of medical care I was receiving would have led to my death within a few years anyway.

Then, in November of 2021, I managed to escape. Escape is no exaggeration here, as it involved sneaking out of an isolated farm in broad daylight with a very high chance of being intercepted and stopped despite my age and status as an adult with full legal rights. I am not and have never been under a conservatorship or guardianship past the age of 18 - I was kept at home purely through abuse tactics and gaslighting. With the help of friends, I made it to the Pacific Northwest where I was supposed to be able to start over and build my life at last.

…Yeah, that? That didn’t work.

I stayed in Washington for about a year, but my roommate and I had incompatible trauma, so I moved to Portland where a larger group of my friends were and where I should have had a support network to help me as I recovered and started treating my trauma properly with medication and therapy.

…That support network ditched me completely. Everyone has their own troubles, their own struggles, but when you’re in a city and trying to recover from abuse, and you’re alone because the people you were counting on never even talk to you, let alone want to spend time with you because they have better things to be doing, well. You can’t make a home where you aren’t wanted.

And the thing is, there are a lot of things about where I live now that don’t fit who I am. Portland is too much of a big city for me. There aren’t enough animals, and the wrong kind of animals when there are any. The smells and the sounds are all wrong, and I stick out like a sore thumb with all of the cultural differences between the PNW and Oklahoma.

So for my mental health and continued recovery, I’m going to move to live closer to the people I know care about me– in this case, one of my oldest friends, who’s put up with my shenaniganry for close to 15 years now–but I’m trying to do that on a very limited budget.

My only income is, as I said, social security disability, and right now almost ¾ of that is going to my rent alone. That means I can’t save enough to move, and on top of that, I’m trying to move to West Virginia.

I’ve seen pictures of the area and it reminds me of the one spot in Oklahoma I ever felt happy, the Ouchitas, but somehow… More. Some of my ancestors used to live in the Appalachians; not West Virginia specifically, but the mountains, and when I saw a photo of that friend’s hometown I almost burst into tears because it was like looking at a place I hadn’t been to in years and needed desperately to get back to.

I never knew you could be homesick for a place you’ve never seen, but I am, and everything in me is crying out that I need to get there. Something deep inside me, something older than the trees, older than the concrete and steel currently surrounding me where I live right now says that when I do, I will finally have found my way to the home that I’ve been looking for all of my life.

Will you help me get there?

[rowenablade]

INTJs and Management, or Why Izzy Hands Was Always Doomed to Fail as a Captain

Warning: Meta shitposting ahead. Please have your tongue lodged firmly in your cheek before engaging.

So one of the more “legitimate” criticisms I’ve seen of Izzy is that he’s clearly, canonically, a bad leader. Anytime he’s given any sort of managerial control, he either:

Lords it over everyone as obnoxiously as possible

Tries to impose order while keeping his employees entirely in the dark about what’s actually going on

Panics and throws up

Clearly, the explanation here is that Izzy isn’t nearly as competent a pirate as he likes to think he is, and he’s just somehow managed to manipulate Ed into thinking he’s indispensable. Right?

Let’s go Business School on this.

The Myers-Briggs Personality Test was made up by some smart business people (probably, I can’t be fucked to Google it right now) to divide people into specific personality types and, in doing so, make it easier to build teams, manage people and spot potential areas of conflict. It’s basically astrology for MBAs. (My business school professors would probably not approve of me explaining it this way, but they don’t follow me on Tumblr, thank the good Lord in Heaven above.)

Side note- I have mixed feelings about Myers-Briggs. I think it can be useful as a framing device when you’re trying to figure out why someone might think or react differently than you. I like it as a theoretical exercise. I would never work somewhere that wanted me to take it as a prerequisite for being hired, any more than I would answer a classified ad that said something like “No Scorpios.”

So back to Izzy. I know, deep in my boniest of bones, that Izzy is an INTJ personality type like me. How do I know this? I just do. Go with me on this. Google it, read the description and tell me I’m wrong. I’ll wait.

INTJs are people who fall on the Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking and Judging ends of the four spectrums the MBTI uses. Known as “The Architect” or “The Mastermind”, this personality type tends to manifest in sidekicks, tragic villains, and that guy in your office who you’re pretty sure the department would collapse without but who you know absolutely nothing personal about.

They’re usually competent, often annoyingly so, but they tend to view things like social niceties, networking and team-building as a waste of time. So you don’t usually see them in leadership positions unless they’ve clawed their way up through the ranks and outlasted everyone else, and if they lose a position to a charismatic rival that they consider less intelligent or hardworking than them, rest assured they are NOT happy about it.

(These are also the guys who just write “Happy Birthday.” on your birthday card with no personal message or smiley face or even an exclamation point. It’s not that they hate you personally. They just don’t understand why we have to do this every year. Doesn’t everyone just immediately throw these cards away? They do.)

Anyway, because of their competence and the rigid standards they tend to impose upon themselves, INTJs can and do end up in positions of power. However, I would argue that not everyone views attaining these positions in the same light. INTJs don’t accept these positions because they want to manage people. They do it because they want the ability to hold everyone to the same standards they hold themselves to.

When an INTJ is promoted to be the boss, they don’t think see a fun, interesting interpersonal challenge (like Stede) or an opportunity to act with total creative control (like Ed). They see a chance to finally make sure that everyone is doing exactly what they’re supposed to, to make this machine run as efficiently as possible, and maybe be able to actually sleep at night without worrying what mess they’re going to have to clean up in the morning.

Essentially, Izzy’s dream crew (and mine, and I would argue a lot of INTJs) is an army of clones of himself that know everything he knows and require no communication. Just a ship full of Izzy’s quietly toiling away at their assigned tasks, asking no unnecessary questions and never causing any drama because you bottle that feelings shit up where it belongs.

(Now’s as good a time as any to mention the time I worked somewhere for six months and didn’t tell them I was getting married until two days before the wedding, when someone asked if I had weekend plans. Hi, @stanningjay!)

This dream is unattainable, and I, as someone who has been to both business school and therapy, know this. Izzy, unfortunately, has been to neither of these things, and is therefore completely unable to manage his expectations of what being in charge will actually be like.

Am I saying this excuses his shitty behavior toward the crew? Absolutely not. I’m just saying I get it. When I’m put I charge, I have to constantly fight my instinct to look over people’s shoulders and correct their mistakes, roll my eyes when someone asks a question I already answered, or schedule all birthday parties to take place on the same day so we can get it all over with at once and get back to work. And I do resist these impulses! That’s the beauty of taking some time to reflect on yourself and also not being in weird, doomed love with your immediate superior. Everyone has different circumstances they’re dealing with.

Honestly, I think Izzy’s cringetastic “Izzy’s Revenge” performance was him trying to do things he’s seen more charismatic leaders do, and failing horribly because he doesn’t understand the context. Humor, irony, theatricality- all things he’s seen used to great effect. Ed does cringe shit all the time (remember that little rope swing?) and people love it. Stede’s constantly lording his wealth and status over his crew, with his massive cabin and fancy breakfasts for two, and they’re apparently willing to face down the British Navy for him. All Izzy has to do is the same kind of things. Hell, he can do them even harder, skip all that tedious rapport-building and establish himself as a leader as efficiently as possible! Needs more salt! Hey, why isn’t this working? Okay, fuck this, everyone shut up and get back to work!

Izzy’s never going to be a good captain unless he can understand why the things good captains do work for them. And until he gives up on that beautiful dream of a clone army who he never has to explain anything to.

Can INTJs be good managers? Of course! The MBTI is not meant to be used to figure out who has aptitude for which job. It’s a tool to help you realize your own biases, habits and blind spots, and be mindful of them when you’re making managerial decisions.

Can Izzy ever be a good captain? Hard to say. Unlike most managers, Izzy doesn’t have the luxury of clocking out at the end of the day, or of finding personal fulfillment outside his job. He’s got his livelihood, identity, emotional connections and sense of actual, physical safety all wrapped up in a big spaghetti ball of unspoken assumptions, and it would take a huge amount of work to untangle all that. Work that, let’s face it, would be a pretty thankless job for whoever took it on.

It would probably have to be a team effort. Maybe Ed and Stede could invite him over for a drink and *gunshots*

[mold-ridden-heart]

Vex’s Art School!!

_____________________

Welcome star child to my art school! AKA where I give out free art tips!!

A special follower of mine wanted me to give them some art tips, so let’s get into it! :D

I’ve been drawing for as long as I can remember, when I was only a toddler I made an ‘organ book’ filled with pictures of organs and what their name was, so I’ve been doing this a while.

When I was at 7 I had a box for crayola markers and a bunch of copier paper making made up animals and sub-human species, making stacks and stacks of drawings that I’d proudly show my mom and dad.

Because I’ve been drawing for so long, my art style as developed in a way that is most comfortable for me to draw in. And I get it, I’ve been in the phase of ‘my art is terrible compared to everyone else’s!!’ But let me tell you how to get out of that instead of me telling you how I draw so you can copy it.

Art is something you create for yourself, things YOU like drawing and are most comfortable drawing! For some people this is realistic art, a 90s DC style, alternative art, Cartoon Network looking art, whatever it is it’s valid! As long as you’re not an NSFW artist forcing people to see it. (It’s fine to do NSFW just don’t push it onto people :D)

Here’s what I did to build my art style.

Whatever art I saw, I’d point out the parts of the art I liked the most and apply it to how I drew, and if something looked wrong I’d mess around with things until I liked it!

Like with the Mark fanart I did not to long ago, while drawing that I came across a lot of problems I didn’t like. I just messed around with the line art and eventually it looked right!

Try and make a Pinterest board of art you like and take mental notes on what makes your art style and the art’s different, try and apply the stuff you like to aspects of your art style you like.

This looks different for everyone, like realist artists could look at pictures of real people and see what their style is lacking compared to real people, alternative artists could go look at people’s art style that they like and take notes on that, or cartoon artists could go watch Cartoon Network and build their art style off of that.

If you like the way I draw, take mental notes on what makes my art style so good. Like I put swirls in my character’s hair, make ears sharp, lashes long and draw chins a certain way.

What you half to remember is that your style is completely unique, not two art styles are the exact same. Never. Your art style is different from mine, the next guy’s the guy after that.

Another good tip is to trace over people’s art you like and simplify it into shapes to get a feel of how they draw and how you can change your style to that. It’s why I draw face shapes like how I do!

You can watch as much art tutorials on YouTube as you want, but just make sure that your art style is the way that YOU like drawing. If it is the exact same as some else’s, it will cause problems with your art. You won’t grow, you won’t be able to draw most things, you will only rely on other people’s art to draw.

I’m not saying that you’re supposed to ONLY supposed to draw in a way that is unique to you, no no, just don’t directly copy someone else’s art.

Happy day, pookies! Hope you benefit! :D

P.S., for the love of GOD start with a sketch and don’t go straight into line art to be different, it’ll only cause problems for yourself.

[katzell]

The Bear Season 2 - Initial Thoughts

Mainlined season 2 today. I have no idea why I thought I would take my time with this. I certainly didn’t with season 1. I suppose I anticipated the same anxiety levels as the previous season. I planned for chill out breaks, and yet here we are!

I really appreciated how this season’s remodel gave each character time to look inwards and do work on themselves. I loved that Carmy facilitated these journeys, even if he never fully appreciated how meaningful they were to the people around him. Richie got a win! I had no idea that was something I even wanted and yet the satisfaction of seeing him finally find his lane was everything.

I’m tagging this for spoilers, but I don’t think I’m ready to talk about the Seven Fishes episode. It was amazing. Give Jon Bernthal all the awards. Bob Odenkirk scared the hell out of me. John Mulaney gave a surprisingly nuanced performance. Lets give some awards to Jamie Lee Curtis as well. I thought they were wasting Sarah Paulson and then I watched her eyes well up and her façade crack…clearly there are no small parts in this show.

Speaking of, hello Will Poulter! Seems like Hollywood just realized you’re hot now.

But no, I’m still trying to understand what The Feast of Seven Fishes means for Carmy, Sugar, and Richie. This episode could teach courses on “show don’t tell.” The family dynamics that continue to haunt everyone are on full display. Tragedy is so close to the surface and yet so mixed up in love and joy.

Carmy’s family scream I love you when they are simultaneously ripping into each other. I love you means calm down. I love you means I’m not hurting you. I love you means stop hurting yourself. They say it a lot. They mean it. But its part of the chaos.

At the very end of the season, we hear those often spoken words again, this time from someone outside the family. When Claire says “I love you,” she says it in a moment of quiet during her day, and Carmy hears it when he is literally locked up, alone with his thoughts. The contrast to Richie screaming the same thing moments before is heartbreaking. In losing Claire, Carmy lost a different kind of love, not just that it was romantic, but that it was calm and easy.

I liked Claire and really bought into her dynamic with Carmy. They felt like two formerly awkward kids reconnecting. She was someone who could have really understood his life without being part of it. She could have been an oasis for him, and Carmy, who is actually really good at listening to and supporting others, could have done the same for her. But he’s an infant at relationships. He hasn’t done this before. He could salvage this one, but at the moment he doesn’t value himself enough to try.

Carmy’s relationship with Sydney though continues to be a fascinating and lovely work in progress. I could see them together at some point in the future. But for now, I’m glad for storytelling reasons Sydney isn’t carrying that burden. The vortex of chaos that surrounds Carmy would subjugate Sydney to his emotional journey. For now, I want to watch Sydney grow into a leader who speaks with assurance and commands a room. I want to watch her continue to build her network and reputation. And I’d like to see her date other people to see what that side of her is like without Carmy. And if all the while they continue building the trust and respect, I will probably be delighted to see them kiss.

Or if Sydney and Richie want to hate fuck that would work for me too

I don’t know what the hell is going to happen to tv in the US as we move into this new phase of streaming, but we better get at least three more seasons of Jermey Allen White as an introverted depressed chef and his loud, weird, wonderful family.

[starlightswitch]

Stopped by Security

@flashfictionfridayofficial After months of finishing fics on Saturday or Sunday because going out on Friday nights + watching Grand Prix of Figure Skating events = not a lot of time on Fridays to write...

Cara was late.

Worse, she hadn’t thought to get contact info for the person she was supposed to be meeting. She didn’t have a badge yet, so someone would have to let her in, and she wasn’t going to be able to contact them the way she normally did, through the company system, when she couldn’t get on the company network until she was inside. She was going to have to wait around outside until someone came along that she could convince to let her in.

Luckily, when she reached the building, a young man was also walking up to it. She quickened her steps to catch up to him as he was about to reach the door.

“Hi,” she said with a smile, crisp and professional, and waited for him to open the door.

He didn’t.

“I’ve never been to this building before,” she explained. “I don’t have a badge.”

“Isn’t someone going to come down and meet you? When I started someone came down and let me in.”

“No, I… forgot to arrange it.” That was about the best way she could think to explain it.

He tilted his head.

“And I was supposed to be here–” She checked quickly. “–about ten minutes ago, so if you could just let me in…”

He backed up a step. “Oh, no, no. You’re not going to get me again.”

“Again?”

“I just did one of these. I got a message from someone saying they were a new employee and they were trying to figure out what this document was about and when I went to it it turned out it was a security test and I failed by opening the thing and I had to go through a whole extra training. Where one of the things they talked about was verifying that people are who they say they are before you do anything.” He gave her a heavy look.

“No,” she said quickly, not liking how it sounded, trying to sound more convincing but not sound like she was trying to sound convincing. “This isn’t– I really am an employee. You can look it up.”

“You could have looked up the employees. Like, looked on LinkedIn or something. Knowing the person’s name doesn’t tell me you are them.”

If she’d been to the office before she could have told him to look up the picture, but since she hadn’t been to the office before, it was just her initials on her profile.

“I feel bad if you really are telling the truth,” he said, with maybe the slightest indication that he did feel bad. “But like they say, fool me once… fool me twice.”

As he was reaching for the door, she thought to say, “If I give you the name of who I’m supposed to be meeting, can you at least message them and tell them I’m here and outside and can they come get me?” ‘Come get me’ was not how she would have phrased it if she’d had a fraction of a second longer to think about it.

“Sure,” he said, quickly after a short hesitation, and then he went inside leaving Cara wondering whether he’d meant it.

And leaving her thinking about that old “fool me once, fool me twice” axiom, and that even though she hadn’t been fooling him at all, there was going to be plenty of shame on her when Dimitri heard about this. And even more the longer it took him to hear about it.

[total-drama-atlas]

Okay so… the recap is showing the puking and… it’s rainbow. GOOD CHANGE

OKAY IM SO GLAD RIPPER IS GONE

Also it was recently brought to my attention that Terry McGurrin also voiced Jonesy on 6teen so. That’s something ig

Priya is a girlboss actually. I thought at first she would be a pushover but she’s such a girlboss. I feel like I should mention that

PRIYA ACCIDENTALLY HITTING MILLIE WHEN SHE TURNS AROUND IS SO FUNNY BC BRIDGETTE DID THAT IN S1 TOO

hey Julia why exactly do you refuse to ally with Bowie 🤨

i feel like I missed something. tapeworm?? man i am glad i skipped ep8

“A talking bush? That’s amazing!” Zee my beloved

Hold on why does Emma not want to flirt with chase. I thought they were back together. did she come to her senses and dump him

STOP WHY DID MY BOY ZEE TRY TO EAT A BUTTERFLY 💀

WHY IS CHASE SO CONCEITED OMG

“Nice try bush, but im not falling for tha-“ I love zee guys could you tell

“Im totally ideaing! *gasp* I IDEAED” why is he so funny

Zee honey that’s just not how that works…

I AGREE WITH THE NETWORK

We haven’t seen boney island yet, right? That would be fun to have in a challenge or episode

Yeah there’s going to be some sadistic twist

“When I have a good feeling about something, it usually goes great! Or really really bad. It’s about fifty-fifty.” that is so real

I love how sierra and topher were super fans of the show ON the show, and Priya is the child of two super fans. Obv not those two, but the way she has clearly studied the show gives her very sierra vibes. Just not stalkerish

the fact that some of the canoes are blue is fine. But if they were all red and green that would have been so cute. bc the bass and gophers in s1 were red and green. And their canoes in Izzy’s first elimination episode matched. It would’ve been a nice and subtle callback

STOP NIT THE “I have not eaten one vegetable.” WHY WAS THAT SO FUNNY

JULIA IS A GIRLBOSS OMG SLAY

Julia babes you’re also blonde

Chase gives me elevator boy vibes

CHASE STOP TRYING TO TAKE HER WORDS OUT OF CONTEXT SHE ISNT INTO YOU

thanks a lot chase you sank Emma’s boat. jerk

YOU GO GIRLIE

TOTAL DRAMA BEARS MY BELOVEDS

i think glasses bear should come back I missed it

WHY IS THE COLORING DIFFERENT ON THE BEARS THEYRE REDDER WHAT

i love the bears having a funeral. This is the real reason people watch total drama. For the bears

I feel like they’re gonna find out zee is in both alliances. It’s a setup to send him home I think :(( I hope I’m wrong I hope chase gets booted

“I forgot why I came in here” zee is so real guys

Emma has every right to be mad but girl I think chase is for once not being a jerk and there might actually be something

yeah that checks out

Julia they literally screamed “WATERFALL” how did you not notice

“I THINK THE STREAMS BROKEN DOWN” zee my beloved

Millie why would you say that. Of course it is

“Why are you like this?” Chef having grown as a person but still doing the show because he needs a paycheck and his husband really likes doing the show. But also he questions his husband

WHY DOES CHASE HAVE SUCH INTRICATE HIGHLIGHTS guys as much as a hate on chase… I think he really does like Emma

I love how chef really visibly cares about the kids. He’s really a good guy now. He’s grown.

This episode is either building up to zee leaving at the end or. it’s all a trick

“I know I had a reason for coming in here…”

Oh my god chase just broke the confessional

“Chase! Dude! You gotta knock bro!” I can see zee has his priorities straight

It’s called honey mountain. Honestly I should have seen that coming

The only scenario I will like seeing chase get immunity is that while he flies toward the mountain he hits his head really hard on the bell and therefore wins. But also getting a concussion

yk what that’s good too he gets bee stings

BOWIE JUST GO JUST RING IT

“You look like you can’t afford to pay anyone back.” DAMN

what are you doing with your leg I don’t think it’s supposed to bend that way

Oh no zee is about to be found out 😬 sorry pooks

“I didn’t know who to help… but then I remembered. Zee! You have TWO HANDS!”

Man Julia looks awful. Feel kind of bad for her

QUIT STALLING BOWIE OMG

yo that comment about the bots is way too real :/

Hmmm where have I seen this kind of plot armor that Julia’s getting… oh right. Heather

The amount of julia abuse in this ep is unacceptable. #savejulia

why are there seals in Ontario

hey um why was there a closeup on emma and Priya’s asses

Even though I really dislike dramarama, I think it’s sweet how a lot of the chef characterization has transferred over.

zee isn’t really that smart. But I love him anyway

Okay it was really dumb of him but it’s adorable how he’s just like ”guys we can all be friends now 😁😁!”

AWWW COME ON

I CALLED IT I KNEW IT WAS COMING

BUT IM STILL UPSET THAT ZEE IS GOING

I love how of the highlights for zee, he goes flying through an electrical storm (very exciting), drank disgusting cow liquid (funny), and having a brief relationship with a large bird. He doesn’t even mention anything else. That was the most interesting things that happened lmao.

The fourth wall jokes this season are actually pretty well done. The four fingers jokes and the “how did I get in here??”

Good episode overall. Just sad that zee left :/

[basementcereal]

DEAD END JOB, EP 1

“One Hell Of A Romance”

When Grelle falls in love with infamous devil Lucifer, William and Ronald team up to find her a less demonic boyfriend.

( 20 minute made-for-totally-real-tv script ahead. Click “Keep Reading” with caution. Rated TV-14 by Your Local Network. Beta read by @spike-the-creature @littleredphantom and @nullb1rdbones. Copywrong 1988 Tumblr User Basementcereal, Inc. )

INT. BOARD ROOM - DAY

Disney channel style jingle. Shot of the top floor of a building so tall it is in the clouds. There’s a giant neon sign at the top that says “Reaper HQ” in red lettering.

WILLIAM

We are here to discuss a certain woman in the workplace.

WILLIAM 

Grelle has been single for going on 5 years right now, and that is starting to become a workplace hazard.

RONALD

Tell me about it.

Cut to RONALD with his hand stuck in the vending machine.

RONALD

AGH! I can’t- OWWW! Get it out!

GRELLE

At least something wants to hold your hand…

RONALD

grelle my arm

GRELLE

SHE CARES ABOUT YOU! IF ONLY SOMEONE WOULD DO THE SAME FOR ME…

RONALD

GRELLE MY ARM

Cut back to the office.

RONALD

I always hated that vending machine.

SASCHA

Oh, Grelle has been a menace ever since I got transferred here.

Cut to SASCHA in the halls trying to find the retrieval break room.

SASCHA 

Hey, uh, do you know where the retrieval division’s break room is?

GRELLE 

You know, I’D like a break from being single, but NOBODY WILL EVER LOVE ME!

Awkward pause.

SASCHA

Have you tried magazine ads?

GRELLE

OF COURSE I HAVE! But APPARENTLY I’m just too beautiful for mortal men. 

Cut back to the office.

SASCHA

Ja. She has been causing problems.

WILLIAM 

Well, we clearly have to do something about this, otherwise it is going to become a much worse problem than it already is.

Cut to WILLIAM’s imagination.

Grelle is chasing the other reapers around with her chainsaw. Everyone is running in terror. The building is on fire. Some guy is collapsed on the floor. Interns are jumping out the windows.

GRELLE

FINALLY, MY FLAME! WE CAN BE TOGETHER FOREVER! EEEAAAAHHH!

She does a little twirl as the entire building begins to collapse with her in it.

Cut back to the office.

WILLIAM shudders.

WILLIAM

We need to get that woman a boyfriend, and fast.

RONALD

Well, what do we DO?

WILLIAM

We are going to try and find the most beautiful reapers in our whole department to show her all her options.

(heel noises)

WILLIAM

Oh god. Everyone act natural.

GRELLE bursts into the room. 

GRELLE

What are you doing, having a meeting without me? What are you saying about me? Are you gossiping? OOOH, I wanna hear it! 

Cut to a close up of WILLIAM’s face. Cut again to a close up of GRELLE’s face smiling excitedly. Cut to WILLIAM’s face again.

WILLIAM

Yes, actually.

GRELLE

Well, I’m sure you heard that I got a boyfriend! And HE’S SO HANDSOME!

GRELLE twirls again. WILLIAM looks relieved, and then tries to put on his best schoolgirl voice.

WILLIAM

Well, who is he? What’s his name?

GRELLE 

LUCIFER! But I just call him Lulu~

Uncomfortable silence. All the reapers kinda just awkwardly look at each other.

WILLIAM

You.

WILLIAM 

You do know who Lucifer is, right?

GRELLE

Why would I not? He’s kind, and loving, and SO HOT.

WILLIAM

Well, maybe he’s hot because he’s. From hell. Because you’re dating THE DEVIL.

GRELLE

YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!

WILLIAM 

Does he have horns, fangs, and a tail?

GRELLE looks VERY embarrassed.

WILLIAM

What did I tell you? Demon-reaper relationships are HIGHLY PROHIBITED. Not only are the demons our enemies, but they are also. Just really gross. Why would you date one.

GRELLE

AT LEAST SOMEONE LOVES ME!

WILLIAM

Okay. Look. If I can find you someone even more. Ahem. “Hot” than The Devil, then will you break up with him and date your perfect match?

GRELLE 

I mean, I suppose. But if you can’t, I’m going on another date with him tomorrow!

WILLIAM

I’d fire you all if I could. Anyways. Ronald, you’re going to go find the… “HOTTEST”… reaper in the building. I’m going to show Grelle… (sigh) pretty boy magazines.

GRELLE

OHH, this is the best day of my life!

INT. SKULLBY CONVENIENCE - DAY

Wide shot of Skullby Convenience at the bottom of the building. Disney channel jingle.

GRELLE

Oh, Skullby Convenience, how I love you. If only you would return my affections, like NO ONE EVER HAD! At least, not before him… My Lulu…

WILLIAM

Oh my god.

WILLIAM

So, where do you even find those stupid magazines?

GRELLE

Oh, can’t I just do a little bit of shopping? We’re already out and about.

WILLIAM

NO. We do not have time to waste. We’re getting you that magazine, and we’re getting it as fast as we can. Skullby Convenience is laid out to have you waste as much money as they can and put your salary back into the budget.

Awkward silence.

WILLIAM

WERE YOU EVEN LISTENING?

GRELLE 

OOH! Look at the guy on the cover! He’s SO HANDSOME!

WILLIAM

It’s called “Maneater”? Sounds completely and utterly frivolous. It is perfect.

The magazine shows a picture of SEBASTIAN in bodyguard gear.

GRELLE

“Sebastian Michaelis, the hot bodyguard of famous child actor Ciel Phantomhive”? EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I love his hair! And his face! And his-

WILLIAM

Grelle, please stop, we are in a public place.

GRELLE

UGH, fine. You never let me have ANY fun.

WILLIAM

I am letting you buy low brow perverted magazines and letting you write it off as a business expense. Do you think that isn’t fun?

More awkward silence.

WILLIAM

Let’s just get in that stupid line.

The two begin to line up.

CASHIER

That’ll be 99.99.

LINE REAPER

Hold on, let me just get out my pennies. I swore to my great aunt in 1923 that I would always use exact change.

LINE REAPER begins to rummage through her purse aggressively.

WILLIAM

I hate people like that. You can just use a hundred dollar bill like a functioning member of society. 

GRELLE

Or you can just steal it!

WILLIAM

GRELLE.

GRELLE Borrow it without asking.

WILLIAM

UGH. I hope for all of our sakes that Ronald is doing better than we are…

EXT. INTERN BREAK ROOM - DAY

RONALD

Ok, you’re decent looking, but not good enough for this. Pass.

RONALD

Yikes. Never. Pass.

RONALD

Did someone drop an anvil on your head when you were born or something? PASS.

RONALD UGH, no one who works here is hot enough for Grelle to date instead of that stupid demon guy. What’s his face? Loafer? What kind of parent names their kid Loafer?  

RONALD

And more importantly, why do I have to do this instead of, oh I don’t know, my job?

INTERN

Uh, boss man?

RONALD Intern, hi. Know if any of your male colleagues are really hot?

INTERN

Ok, that’s a weird question. 

RONALD I know, I know. But can you just answer it? The higher ups are being weird again and I’m trying not to get demoted.

INTERN Well, I do know a guy in retrieval. Cool outfit and the best hair I’ve ever seen. It’s so long, you’d think he’d been growing it out since BEFORE it was cool. Heard he came out of retirement because we’re short on staff.

Short comedic pause.

RONALD

Yeah, that’ll do it.

EXT. MANAGEMENT BREAK ROOM - DAY

GRELLE

Sebastian! Ohh, such a pretty name! And he’s a bodyguard, too! That’s like, the fifth hottest profession! EEEEE!

GRELLE

But can I truly find him and make him mine? Not until that brat he’s working for starts filming his next movie, I suppose.

WILLIAM

And when do you think that’s going to happen?

GRELLE Well, I could try tracking his soul’s activity! Ooh, that’ll be fun!

WILLIAM Grelle, you do realize you aren’t supposed to check other reapers’ lists? Did you even READ the manual?

GRELLE stares silently at WILLIAM.

WILLIAM

Well, you can borrow mine for now.

WILLIAM pulls out a comically large book that has “Employee Handbook” printed on the front. It comes with a little bookmark with skulls all over it.

GRELLE YOU READ THE EMPLOYEE HANDBOOK?

WILLIAM

YOU DIDN’T???

GRELLE

I JUST KINDA GUESSED THE RULES!

WILLIAM

YOU GUESSED THE RULES???

GRELLE YOU DIDN’T???

SASCHA walks in.

SASCHA

Uh. Is this the bathroom?

WILLIAM and GRELLE both turn to SASCHA and say something that is comedically censored by a giant beep.

SASCHA

I guess not.

WILLIAM and GRELLE resume their arguing. The scene fades out.

EXT. REAPER HQ - DAY

RONALD stands outside a dumpster, looking around.

RONALD

Okay. So I’ve been on every floor. ALLLL 1000 of them. If this man isn’t here, I’m going to lose my mind.

UNDERTAKER pops out of a dumpster.

UNDERTAKER

DID SOMEBODY SAY LOSE THEIR MIND? UEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!

RONALD stares into the camera, then turns over to UNDERTAKER. And then he begins to realize.

Cut to flashback.

INTERN Well, I do know a guy in retrieval. Cool outfit and the best hair I’ve ever seen. It’s so long, you’d think he’d been growing it out since BEFORE it was cool. Heard he came out of retirement because we’re short on staff.

Short comedic pause.

RONALD

Yeah, that’ll do it.

“That’ll do it” echoes while the scene transitions back to the dumpster.

UNDERTAKER

Whatcha starin into space for?

RONALD

I need your help. And fast.

INT. HQ ELEVATOR

RONALD

And now, all I have to do is press the but-

UNDERTAKER

ELEVATORS! Haven’t ever used one of these!

RONALD

OK, either you’ve been using the stairs this ENTIRE TIME, which, how? Or you don’t actually work here. And anyways, where are your glasses? I can get you some on floor-

Before RONALD can finish speaking, UNDERTAKER has already pressed every single elevator button. For every floor. All 1000 of them.

RONALD

It’s days like these where I wish I would get demoted to a Skullby Convenience employee.

INT. MANAGEMENT BREAK ROOM - DAY

GRELLE and WILLIAM are sitting on the couch, going over the manual.

GRELLE

How much more is there? My eyes are starting to glaze over…

WILLIAM

What do you mean? We’re only on page 7! There’s 4020 more!

GRELLE chuckles.

WILLIAM

What in god’s name is so funny about 4020?

GRELLE keeps laughing.

GRELLE

I’m sorry, I just-

GRELLE laughs so hard that she starts falling over onto the couch, hitting WILLIAM in the face with her heels.

WILLIAM

Remember the deal. You finish reading the manual, so you can finally have a shred of sense, and in return you get to go to Funtom Productions and stalk that stupid bodyguard.

GRELLE

YES, OBVIOUSLY I REMEMBER THE DEAL! YOU JUST MADE IT WITH ME! WHY DID YOU SAY IT AGAIN?

WILLIAM

You know what, I don’t know. Perhaps there is some narrative reason. Exposition, perhaps.

GRELLE

That’s ridiculous. Nobody would ever write a story about us.

WILLIAM

You’re right, you’re right.

WILLIAM

Now onto page 8 we go.

GRELLE

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYy

INT. HQ ELEVATOR

RONALD and UNDERTAKER are stuck in the elevator. 

RONALD

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO PRESS EVERY BUTTON? I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT FLOOR WE’RE STUCK ON!

UNDERTAKER

HEEHEE! I JUST WANTED TO HAVE A LITTLE LAUGH A YOUR EXPENSE!

RONALD

Well, because of you, we’re BOTH stuck in this stupid thing.

UNDERTAKER

FINE. I’m SORRY for pressing all 1000 elevator buttons.

RONALD

No you’re not.

UNDERTAKER

EHEHE, you got me!

RONALD

Well, what now? Do we just wait until the repair reapers come?

UNDERTAKER

They have those?

RONALD

Yeah, a surprising amount of reapers just end up in maintenance. I can’t imagine having to be a janitor for all of eternity. I don’t LIKE field work, but at least I don’t have to clean all 1000 floors of this place.

UNDERTAKER looks at RONALD mischieviously.

RONALD

Speaking of 1000 floors, I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAD TO STOP ON 998 FLOORS BEFORE THE ELEVATOR BROKE DOWN! I COULD HAVE GOTTEN OUT! JUST TWO FLIGHTS OF STAIRS. COULDN’T HAVE BEEN THAT HARD! BUT NOOOOOO.

Comedic pause.

UNDERTAKER

99 bottles of souls on the wall, 99 bottles of souls,

RONALD

That’s not even how that works.

UNDERTAKER

Take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of souls on the wall.

RONALD

(sigh) 98 bottles of souls on the wall, 98 bottles of souls, take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of souls on the wall.

UNDERTAKER

97 bottles of souls on the wall, 97 bottles of souls, take one down, pass it around, 96 bottles of souls on the wall.

EXT. MANAGEMENT BREAK ROOM - SUNSET

MANY HOURS LATER

GRELLE

FINALLY! ALL 4020 PAGES! 

GRELLE twirls at the sight of freedom in front of her.

GRELLE

Now for your end of the deal, Will.

WILLIAM

(sigh) Fine. You can go find that stupid bodyguard. At least he isn’t a demon.

GRELLE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

GRELLE runs off very quickly and excitedly, despite wearing heels higher than a stoner.

WILLIAM

Finally, I can go home…

EXT. FUNTOM PRODUCTIONS - NIGHT

GRELLE crouches with binoculars in one of the bushes outside Funtom Productions. She smiles evilly. 

GRELLE (thinking)

Now to wait for him to go outside.

SEBASTIAN goes outside.

SEBASTIAN

I must say, I swear I heard something…

GRELLE freezes.

SEBASTIAN

Must have been nothing.

GRELLE sighs in relief.

SEBASTIAN

Oh. It’s back.

SEBASTIAN

You know, I could swear I heard someONE who isn’t supposed to be here.

GRELLE (THINKING)

Run.

GRELLE dashes out of the bush and climbs onto the fence. SEBASTIAN grabs GRELLE’s shoe in an attempt to stop her, but her shoe just falls off.

GRELLE (THINKING)

I just got those…

GRELLE makes it over the fence, tumbling over the other side. Her other shoe falls off in the process.

GRELLE

I really should have worn runners… Who am I kidding, I don’t even own runners. At least I won’t get my socks muddy.

It starts comically pouring rain.

GRELLE

OH FOR FU-

INT. WILLIAM’S OFFICE- NIGHT

GRELLE shows up in the office, covered in mud, frizzy hair, and no shoes with the biggest frown on her face.

WILLIAM

I’m assuming that went well.

GRELLE

YEAH. WENT GREAT. OH JOY.

WILLIAM

To be fair, you did try and sneak into a celebrity’s house to try and flirt with his bodyguard. I don’t know what you were expecting there.

GRELLE

YOU TOLD ME HE WAS GOING TO FALL IN LOVE WITH ME INSTANTLY.

WILLIAM

I was being sarcastic.

 GRELLE

I- BEING SARCASTIC? YOU GOT MY HOPES UP FOR NO REASON! YOU MADE ME BELIEVE IN LOVE! SO I AM going on another date with LULU…

RONALD and UNDERTAKER come into the room.

RONALD

Grelle! I found you a boyfriend.

UNDERTAKER

Groovy.

GRELLE stares at UNDERTAKER in complete awe.

GRELLE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I LOVE HIS HAIR! AND HIS FACE! AND HIS-

WILLIAM

Grelle. We’re at work.

GRELLE

LUCIFER IS DUMPED. DONE. FOREVER. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!

UNDERTAKER

hee hee

GRELLE and UNDERTAKER act ridiculously around each other. WILLIAM and RONALD stare in fear.

RONALD

It’s like a match made in heaven.

WILLIAM

Or rather in hell.

RONALD

Purgatory?

WILLIAM

Purgatory.

INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT

RONALD

I (huff) am not (huff) going in the elevator (huff) ever again (huff)

UNDERTAKER slides down the stairs on a pizza box like a little kid.

UNDERTAKER

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

RONALD

99 more flights of stairs to go down, 99 more flights of stairs.

RONALD

Take one down, pass it around, 98 more flights of stairs to go down.

RONALD collapses. Cut to black for everywhere but RONALD’s face. Disney channel jingle. Roll the credits.

[blueeyedrat]

Steam Next Fest, summer 2023, for real this time. I was able to fit in more games than I anticipated, which is good, since there were plenty that caught my eye. First impressions and general thoughts under the cut.

(Part 1)

Viewfinder — Another entry in the proud lineage of "first-person puzzle games that do weird non-Euclidean shit" — Portal, Antichamber, Superliminal, et al. These games are always impressive in some way (concept, tech, style), and Viewfinder carries on the tradition. The core mechanic, overlaying photos onto "real" space and having their contents become equally real and able to be interacted with, is pulled off well. The puzzles in the demo show off a lot of interesting ways it can be used, and how its basic rules and assumptions can be bent and challenged. I'm very interested in this one, and I'm looking forward to when it comes out.

Stick to the Plan — A grid puzzle game about getting a small dog from point A to point B while carrying a long, unwieldy stick. I've seen the original Game Jam version on itch.io but never got around to playing it. The game seems up my alley, though, so I'm glad it's being expanded upon. Easy to pick up the basic concept, but enough room for introducing new mechanics and gimmicks to keep things interesting.

Gambit Shifter — A chess-themed puzzle game. I don't have much to say about it, but what I do have to say is positive. It's a simple enough idea (if you're familiar with how chess pieces move on a grid) with a decent variety of puzzles and simple, stylized chess pieces. That's all you need, I suppose.

Iron Roads — A train management sim. This one didn't quite land for me. The management part (building stations and rails and bridges, buying trains, planning routes, implementing logic for train stops and the like) didn't hold my interest, and the rest of it felt a little bare-bones. It's relatively early in development so there's room to improve, but I don't think this one's for me.

Causeway — A sleek-looking puzzle game about connecting traffic lines. I expected more to it than that, but it's actually pretty minimalist: draw paths, connect input roads to output roads, let the simulation play out and hope you did it correctly so there's no overflow or collision. I couldn't find any way to adjust the camera and the interface felt a little awkward in general, especially when trying to fine-tune a road on the edge of the map or place a bunch of roads and bridges near each other. I like this one in concept, but less in practice.

Laysara: Summit Kingdom — So, uh, all of the city builders I've played in the past few years are getting sequels all of a sudden. Cities: Skylines, Airborne Kingdom, Before We Leave, all have sequels lined up. I hope I have time to play them. I also hope I have time to play Laysara when it comes out, because it pushes all the same buttons. A builder with a nice gameplay loop of making numbers go up and having everything fit together just right (but it's all on a grid, so you don't have to fit it all into place that much), and a unique gimmick or two to top it off. I've been looking forward to this one for almost a year, and I don't think that'll change any time soon.

Bulwark: Falconeer Chronicles — A sandbox city builder that shares a setting with the dev's previous work, The Falconeer (a game I'm not actually that familiar with, and have only seen in passing). As far as builders go, this is one of the most unorthodox I've played, mostly due to its control scheme. You traverse a network of connected buildings and extend that network upward and outward, rather than moving around the map independently and building from the top down (though with a useful airship, you're not entirely locked out of the latter). It's streamlined, but at the same time it feels like there's some nuance that I'm either not quite getting or can't access in this demo — supply lines and logistics, defenses, managing diplomacy and conflict with the different in-game factions, and so on. Despite Bulwark's oddities, or perhaps even because of them, I actually kinda dig it and I'm interested to see more. Mr. Sala, you have my attention.

Quest Master — A 2D Zelda-like with a focus on creating custom dungeons. It's been too long since I've dug into a good level editor. A good Zelda Maker might scratch that itch, though, especially since we've got options on that front (I should check out Super Dungeon Maker at some point, for comparison). Admittedly, this one might need some more time in the oven; no matter which control scheme you're using, the interface isn't as intuitive as I'd like and feels a bit awkward switching in and out of build mode, and currently there's no way to re-map any of the controls to mitigate this. It's got some neat ideas, though, and I'd like to see the game when it's been fully fleshed out.

Saltsea Chronicles — A point-and-click narrative game. I've had Die Gute Fabrik's previous foray into the genre (Mutazione) on my backlog for a while, and started up a playthrough after this game was announced. What I've seen so far in both games has been really interesting in terms of worldbuilding and character writing. Saltsea Chronicles seems particularly ambitious, with an ensemble cast and an episodic plot — each "episode" brings your motley crew to a different island in the Saltsea and you can choose who goes ashore to gather information, resources, mementos, etc., discovering more of the world and its inhabitants, advancing individual stories and the overarching narrative throughout. The demo episode was really well-written, and I am immediately invested in this setting and these characters. Of all the games I played in this Next Fest, this one might be the sleeper hit of the lot.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Rage Fire Institution

Building. 26.

Tatsumi kept his word and kept free of the lab up until evening. Maki had told him he didn’t need to be there when he did his next mental training with Poaw, yet he’d let himself get carried away coming up with concept designs for Maki’s mech. The legs had been printed, with the panels cut to standard dimensions for the students to pencil out their modifications on. Once the details were locked in, they’d be shaped to fit the mods then primed before going through the spray booth. Knowing he’d have to take the concept design before the research group, Tatsumi had printed them out. That way once Maki had made his choice, those choices could be laid out before the group and a final paint design agreed upon. He also knew that now mention of print design was brought up, everyone would have ideas on how the mech should look, but ultimately the final decision came down to Maki as he’d be piloting it. If he didn’t like the design, it’d reflect poorly on his synch rates.

Arriving an hour before Maki was due, Tatsumi dumped his backpack off on Poaw’s work bench, pulling out his designs and laying them out as if this were his lab. He’d worked hard on each design, yet when it boiled down to it, his favoured print was the one he’d told Maki about at the warehouse. An inky night black blue with the smallest hint of reflective particles in the mix. Simple was best. With the orange Rage Fire Insignia fitted, the sapphire at the top of the school crest would shimmer the same colour as the particles in the paint. Even if Maki didn’t choose that design, he still wanted the man to see what he’d seen when he’d first looked at the mech for him. Almost nervously he rearranged the print outs, trying to show the progression in design, though he knew Maki would first be drawn to the print out of their two joke designs. Out of fairness he’d included the submissions from their project chat, first separating them out, then deciding it was less nerve wracking to mix them in with his own in case Maki didn’t like any of his.

Seeing her work bench under threat, Poaw came over, leaving her team to finish calibrating the neural network for Maki’s training

“You’re not supposed to be here tonight. A little birdie told me you couldn’t make it. It looks like you’ve been busy”

“Maki called you?”

He knew he was banned from lab for the day, but Tatsumi didn’t think Maki would call ahead like this

“He’s got detention and may be half an hour late. He wanted to make sure he could still come tonight even if you wouldn’t be here”

Part of Tatsumi deflated. He’d been excited and now it seemed as if he were going to be lectured by the pushy alpha

“Cut a guy a break. I’m sure all will be forgiven when he chooses which paint job he wants”

Picking up the design Maki had submitted, Poaw held the picture up next to Tatsumi’s face

“Remind me again, you two are only friends, correct?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Just you might want to nip it in the bud if you’re leading the kid on. He can’t go piloting a mech that looks just like you”

“I’m not leading the kid on. How can you tell he designed that one?”

“Because the pink pandas simply screams you causing trouble. Well, how are you feeling? You look significantly better than Suzu described. And don’t think I haven’t noticed those new glasses and the way you practically skipped in here”

Tatsumi took offence. He was a grown man and he certainly hadn’t skipped

“You doctor types talk too much”

“Us doctor types have to worry about blockheaded pilots like you. Spill. How did the kid know you’re sick when you’ve been avoiding him?”

No secret or action was safe from the prying eyes of the research wing. Tatsumi taking the printout off the doctor and placing it careful where she’d taken it from

“Maki and Li needed homework help yesterday. He may have caught me feeling faint and overreacted”

Poaw quickly started picking up the print outs one by one, not hiding her curiosity

“He may have done you a favour. Soooo, tell me more”

“There’s nothing to tell. I fucked up, he realised, now I’m making up for it”

Poaw knew how he worked. She knew he struggled and she knew he saw a lot in Maki that others wouldn’t. That didn’t make her right. Maki wasn’t looking at him in any other way but a teacher who could get him what he wanted and Tatsumi wasn’t so deluded he’d believe otherwise. Even if they had gotten closer, Maki would probably quit associating with him once the competition was over. He didn’t begrudge being used, not when he’d brought it on himself, but he did struggle with the wavering line between them. Alone in his room he’d traced his scars, really taking in every detail of the mess. There had to be something missing in the alpha’s head to still want to associate with such a scarred omega.

Poaw placed down the design in her hands, it was the one Tatsumi hoped Maki would choose. Simple but not plain in a bad way. A mech that gave nothing away, much like the personality within Maki

“This one is the best. It suits him perfectly. Tatsumi, he’s a better kid than I thought he’d be. I may not know what Skylark thought about pairing you together, and other than that incident with the suppressants and overworking yourself, you seem better. But don’t push those feelings onto Maki if he doesn’t want to reciprocate them”

“I’m not. I was a shitty babysitter to him. I mean, he has what I can’t have and I pushed that onto him. He worked it out. I guess that’s why they still say alphas are the smart ones”

“So he knows you’re an omega?”

“I told him as much last night. I thought he’d take off running”

“You mean you wanted him to”

“Yeah. Instead he got on my case about resting. Banned me from coming here all day”

Poaw laughed softly, her gaze still on the night sky mech, her fingers tracing the outline as if she were planning how she’d mod it

“I’m glad you found a friend. Someone who will call you out and someone you’ll listen to”

“I kind of owe him at least that. I’m not the best babysitter and we both know I’m a lousy researcher”

“There’s nothing wrong with being better with your hands than your mind. He’s not blackmailing you, is he?”

Tatsumi supposed technically it could be called that given Maki had threatened to tell Skylark on him, but it wasn’t blackmail in the physical sense

“No. I want to see him succeed with my own eyes. And seeing I forced him into all of this, the least I can do is make sure he’s got the tools he needs to survive it”

Poaw sighed heavily at him

“You’re such an idiot. You don’t need to be this hard on yourself now that he knows. You seem to like him, I mean, talking with him. That’s not a bad thing. I can see you two are close from these stupid mech mock ups. The pair of you are far too similar humour wise, it makes me want to map your brains for similarities”

Tatsumi didn’t think the joke with the mech paint was that abnormal… yet as he imagined Maki trying to figure out if he was serious or not, a smile came to his lips

“It is when I find myself telling him shit with no control of my mouth. I knew he’d be mad over a pink mech so I couldn’t help myself. Seriously, I’ve shown him nothing but my bad sides. I want to show him that… that maybe coming back can be something alright?”

Smiling brightly, Poaw started rearranging Tatsumi’s carefully laid out print outs. He wanted to stop her, but the best he could do was wait then change the order back

“And now you’re trying hard to build this friendship. I won’t kick you out. Mental health is important too and I know from looking at these that you took your time to really think about his tastes. I’m thinking simple with the school emblem over the mechs chest where its heart would lay. And another thing, you are no good to him if you’re struggling. If you need more suppressants because he’s an alpha, that may be your body telling you it’s time to find someone. It doesn’t have to be Maki, but open your heart up a little more and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised”

Tatsumi didn’t know why he thought of Maki as Poaw told him to open his heart. He’d opened it enough of late, any more and he was likely to start haemorrhaging out his stupidity. He also didn’t know why his head didn’t like the idea of another alpha. Of being that vulnerable that they’d see his scars. Maki hadn’t run away.

“Tatsumi?”

Tatsumi drew himself together, smoothly lying to cover the ideas that Poaw had put in his head

“Sorry, I was thinking about the emblem now you’ve brought it up. The school may want the school colours on their seeing it’s a mech owned by the institution”

Poaw cast him a skeptical look, yet let the topic drop

“We could go with stripes or bands down the arm. Alternatively we can change the mech’s lighting. Orange and white will stand out against black no matter how we display them”

“Maybe we should put them on the bottom of the mech’s feet? They do think Maki likes to walk all over the school rules”

Poaw rolled her eyes, their banter would have continued if the lab door hadn’t slid open, a slightly red faced and sweaty Maki standing there. Tatsumi blurting out

“What happened to your detention?”

Maki shot a scowl their way, Tatsumi knowing it was entirely meant for him seeing he was somewhere he wasn’t meant to be. The alpha shooting back with

“What happened to you staying out the lab?”

Poaw laughed at the pair of them, earning a scowl from them both

“I’m sorry but he was too excited. Give him anything mech related and he still acts like a child. He rushed right over here to wait for you. He is right though, you did say you had detention”

“Halcial let me go early because of the competition. Tatsumi, you didn’t keep your word, grandpa”

Putting his hands together as if in prayer, Tatsumi gave a small bow

“Forgive me, grandson. This foolish grandpa has some finished mech ideas for you to see”

Maki seemed as if he wanted to be mad, but if he wanted to be mad, then he really shouldn’t have let his eyes light up

“So that’s why you weren’t replying, I didn’t think you’d actually stop altogether”

“I told you I wouldn’t while you were in class. Come have a look. These are all draft designs, naturally you’ll have the final say after the team presents their ideas and then I’ll take it to the principal for approval”

Coming over to join them, Maki groaned as his eyes landed on his joke design

“You can’t let this one go, can you?”

“Not when I’ve been informed the resemblance is canny. Personally, I don’t see what was so wrong with those pandas”

“Is this going to be the penguins all over again? Do I need to get Mina to send you her designs?”

Tatsumi sucked in his lips to stop from laughing. Mina had gushed and gushed over their penguin experience. They all knew it was virtual reality, but the aquarium had done a great job on their tech. The little girl able to pat penguins as much as she liked. Poaw raising an eyebrow

“Mina?”

Given it was Maki’s sister they were talking about, Tatsumi headed her off

“Don’t ask. I may have gotten carried away”

Maki raised his gaze

“More than that. I did some designs too, but… I like this one. I like the feel of it, but what’s with the glitter?”

Tatsumi’s chest grew warm as Maki picked up the design he’d secretly hoped the alpha would love

“It’s very tiny paint particles. The effect would be very slight until your in motion”

“So it’s not glitter?”

“Oh, no. It is in the sense you’re thinking, but it’ll serve to make you just a touch less scary”

“I want them to be terrified. I know I will be. Can we not have glitter?”

“We can paint a swatch of both then decide. Why don’t you show me your designs?”

Poaw cleared her throat to interrupt them

“You two obviously don’t need me butting in here. I’ll finish up calibrations while you two settle on a paint scheme. It might be a little wait as I expected you later”

Maki waved his hand dismissively, Poaw giving Tatsumi an amused look which he returned with a nod and a smile, then turned his attention back to Maki

“We were just saying that the school may wish for us to use the orange and white of the emblem”

Maki frowned at the suggestion, Tatsumi didn’t blame him. Orange always stood out in battle, he knew that already. The alpha asking

“I mean, we could… do you think we still look cool with the school colours? Is this what you saw when we were at the warehouse? You said an inky blue black?”

“Pretty much. I wasn’t sure what shade to go until I was using the simulator. I think we can both agree no boots or glasses”

“And no pink pandas?”

Tatsumi faked a pout. Mina would have loved the pandas. The girls in the crowds probably would have gone crazy for them. With his looks, skill, and a bright pink mech, Maki would have pissed off a hell of a lot of partners showing up like that

“But they suit you so well”

Slyly, Maki through a counter jab

“Says my grandpa, who should have been resting like I told him too”

“I did rest, oh great grandson of mine. Then I remembered I had nothing to do”

“You could have slept. What about your eyes? Too much screen time isn’t good for you”

Maki was making mountains out of molehills. There was only so much time a man could be left alone with his own thoughts

“I’ll have you know I have new glasses, they were delivered this morning, and that I didn’t bother getting dressed and ready for the day until after I had breakfast”

“Touché. Still, you spent so much time on this”

“Of course I did. We can’t have your mech going out with any old paint job. A paint job needs to suit the pilots taste, most have flares of the owners style on the battlefield”

“Did yours?”

Tatsumi thought of his mech in his lab. He definitely did… a special paint job forced on him by the team

“Yes. And I’d never swap it for anything. It was gifted on me as a joke, yet I’d rather die than see it erased”

“That’s some pretty heavy shit right there”

“It’s true. Plus, your synch rate will fall if you’re piloting a mech you dislike. You’ll find a lot of proud soldiers happy to talk about their paint jobs. It becomes part of your identity, and those around you will be able to recognise you straight away. That’s why the government is more lenient on paint jobs provided they aren’t overly gaudy and obnoxious”

“Damn, no glasses then. I don’t think I liked them all that much anyway. I do like this one. Can we try working out how to work in the school colours in case there’s an objection”

“Of course. We also need to consult the others about the choice, though I can’t see it being too much of a problem if you go for a darker look. It’ll be pretty bad arse”

Maki stared at him for a good moment before snorting

“You just reminded me how much older you are. I didn’t think you’d be saying something’s bad arse”

“Take pity on this grandpa, it’s hard being old and past my prime”

“You’re hardly past your prime. Your designs are better than mine”

Tatsumi wanted to beam with happiness, but he couldn’t. Maki would have worked on his own designs just as hard. He wouldn’t let him choose his without taking what the alpha had come up with and completing ignoring it

“You haven’t shown me yet, sit down and we’ll work on your mech together”

***

By the time he and Tatsumi had drafted up designs including the school colours, Maki was excited. He could see his mech clearly in his head, and Tatsumi could show him how it should look provided that they didn’t mod the mods any further. His mech was a beast. Inky black, with touches of sapphire blue in the paint. Sure, the school designs were passable, opting for the colours to be on the arms or legs rather than the bulk of the mech, but it was still the coolest looking mech he’d ever seen. Tatsumi had assured him that the paint job was completely customisable and he’d print those samples he’d mentioned, but Maki honestly didn’t care. His mech was beastly and sure to strike fear into those in the competition.

Lying on the examination bed, it was tilted up at a 45 degree angle. Wires and monitors lead from the helmet that would both map his brain and generate the world he’d find himself in. In his hands were the dummy controllers that’d give him a sense of actually being in a mech, and steps sat beneath his feet to project walking. For their own safety, Poaw, her team, and Tatsumi stood behind a glass shield. Yes, he was mad that Tatsumi had shown up after promising to rest, but the man had spent the whole day in his room working on designs, so he couldn’t be too mad about that.

“Maki, we’ll begin synchronisation now. Tell us immediately if you’re experiencing anything abnormal”

With his new mech’s badarse paint job officially decided upon, his mental training now was focusing on the vastly different feels between an Erebus and a TC. An Erebus had a far more sophisticated system which would only get harder once all the mods were in place

“Understood”

Taking several deep breaths, Maki opened his eyes to find himself in the projected cockpit. He didn’t like the lacking walls around him, it gave him too much space to breathe, and though he’d never thought he’d see the day, he kind of missed the smell of sweat seeing the cleanliness of the air was too pure.

“That’s good Maki. We’ll hold here for a minute before proceeding”

Poaw said that last time, Maki figured it was to simulate booting time in a real mech. On his screen numbers sat level, his synch rate sitting at 86 percent even though he thought it’d be higher. Remembering that Poaw had told him he had to confirm everything he heard, he replied

“Alright. Things seem fine”

“Good, good. Reading are good too. You’re doing great”

“Tell grandpa he better be sitting down by now. He’ll wear out those old legs of his”

Tatsumi’s voice came through the projected cockpit

“Focus on what you’re doing. This is serious now”

“Alright already, sheesh, you research times do like to nag”

“Says the man labelling himself as my grandson”

“How else was I going to get you to listen?”

“I always listen. Now focus, Poaw’s going to start increasing the loading. Keep your breathing calm”

Maki would have ducked his head if he could. Tatsumi was scolding him in front of everyone. He couldn’t rely on Tatsumi once he got into the competition arena. Focusing on breathing was boring, so instead he moved to use the mechs screen, looking for the input stats so he could watch the loading as it grew. He’d meant to do that the last time, but thought himself clever for remembering to do so this time given it was only his third time in.

“Don’t focus on your stats. We’ll be monitoring them”

Maki would have elbowed Tatsumi if he could have

“Stop talking, if I want to know my stats, I’ll look at them”

“Stats aren’t everything”

“Then you come sit in this contraption and tell me you’re not curious”

Vaguely he could hear Poaw telling Tatsumi to shut up, then her voice came through

“Right. Beginning mental loading in 30 seconds”

Maki watched the numbers climb then steady out. He truly felt as if he’d do better in a real mech, but everyone was acting cautiously and he supposed mechs were kind of expensive. Holding himself back was hard seeing he was so used to Andes making him move, and had grown used to facing Tatsumi where stopping to analyse led to action. As his numbers started to dip, Poaw’s voice came through, causing him to jump slightly

“We’ll end it here today. You achieved 76% loading, but you’re showing signs of distress in your vitals. We’ll start reducing the strain now. Don’t move until the projection ends”

Obediently waiting, Maki followed orders. Staying completely still until the screen went black and the headset was raised. The alpha didn’t realise he was panting for breath until Poaw was beside him, checking his vision with a light pen

“Good. You were doing good. Catch your breath. 35 minutes at 76 percent is good”

It hadn’t felt 35 minutes. It felt longer and shorter at the same time. Looking down, he realised he was sweating up a storm inside his pilot suit. Everything felt horribly hot and soggy, much like his brain from keeping control

“Maki? Are you with us?”

Maki nodded at Poaw’s question

“I don’t know how I made 35 minutes”

“You held steady for the first 25, before starting to dip. You initial synch rate did have us worried, yet you evened out so instead of raising it higher we kept it even to see how long you could maintain that level. When you get back to your dorm, ask your fellow students to monitor any symptoms. With the change in your suppressants your body is adjusting to a lot. Don’t be too disheartened”

Maki would not be asking them for help. He was sure it would end as disastrously as when he’d tried asking them for advice the previous night. The alpha felt disappointed in himself for not being able to take on a larger load, if he ignored the boot time, adjustment period, and the end time, he’d only lasted roughly 20 minutes. He needed better times if he wanted to win the competition

“I understand”

“Good, you can come off the bed now. I’ll check your vitals once you’ve calmed back down”

With legs of jelly, Maki wobbled his way across to sit next to Tatsumi who waited with a bottle of water and a towel, both appreciated in his state. With how Poaw had praised him, he felt embarrassed, especially when Tatsumi gave a small cough to indicate he had something to say

“What do you feel went wrong?”

No words of praise? Actually, Maki liked it better than Tatsumi hadn’t praised him

“It’s weird. Being exposed is nothing like being in a mech. Even the cocoons we use feel more like being in a mech than that does”

“So you think you’d do better in an actual mech?”

Maki opened his water, gulping down the contents as if he’d never had a drink before in his life. Draining the bottle, he accidentally slammed it down when he was done, explaining

“Basically. It doesn’t feel enough like a mech so I can’t keep focus as I should be, but I’m sure I’ll get it. I have to. I won’t let anyone down”

Reaching out, Tatsumi ruffled Maki’s sweat damp hair

“If you say you can do it, then I believe it. Your rate will always be messed up by unusual conditions. We had to keep the area free seeing your an alpha taking on such a large mental load. If you had lost control we have an easier time sedating you sitting up like that rather than trying to bring you down in a mech”

Taking Tatsumi by the wrist, Maki pulled him off him. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t meant to be comforted by the fact the team didn’t want him being hurt inside a mech where he could seriously risk death, or upset that the team thought it might happen. Unable to stop himself, he snapped

“I told you I’d get it! It’s not like I’m not trying!”

Throwing back Tatsumi’s arm, Maki’s eyes widened in horror at what he’d done. Tatsumi keeping his balance and barely affected, but Maki was. He’d used enough force on the man that a normal person would have lost their balance. His words fell over each other as he asked

“Shit. Fuck. Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

Taking his wrist into his left hand, Tatsumi rubbed at it lightly

“No damage done. You’re agitated from the mental loading and I shouldn’t have touched an alpha so casually straight after”

That didn’t mean shit. He wasn’t meant to hurt people who didn’t deserve it and he didn’t get why he was so angry

“But you were trying to be nice. Like, what the hell?”

“Instincts. Those stupid traits still simmering in our blood. Your body feels stressed and your brain is still running hot. It didn’t hurt”

“It doesn’t matter if it did or didn’t. Maybe I do need sedating?”

“I wouldn’t have lived so long if a small incident like this meant anything. You’re fine. Wiped yourself down and focus your breathing. In through the nose slowly and out through your mouth”

“I know how to damn well breathe!”

Tatsumi had the nerve to smile, Maki giving a miserable groan. His mouth was going to get him into trouble and didn’t like it

“Don’t let it get to you. Young alphas are supposed to be broody and ill tempered”

The alpha didn’t want to hear it. Being an alpha was no excuse for being an arsehole

“I’m not that much younger than you and I went on suppressants to avoid this shit right here”

“It’s fine. Look, all this means is we should adjust training sooner rather than later. You became distressed because you felt restless. You felt restless because though submerged, you still couldn’t stop noticing the glaring fact you weren’t in a mech. These results aren’t bad, they just say we change method sooner than later”

Maki sighed heavily as he slumped back feeling disheartened. They didn’t want to put him in a mech but he couldn’t get his shit together enough not to be. He needed to be better than this, and in a hurry or he’d never be ready for the competition

“We don’t have time for this”

“We do if… if I show you something. Poaw, can I borrow Maki once you’re done with him?”

Poaw called back across the lab

“You can take him after I’ve given him another check. Make sure he goes back to his dorm room and rests”

That was all Maki wanted to do. He wanted to keep him and his bad mood to himself, not be dragged around and made to feel better about failing. Maki rejecting the offer

“Not tonight. I don’t think my pride can take anything else and I don’t want to say anything I can’t take back”

“Alright. I suppose it may be a bit too much for you right now. I’ll take you back once you’ve been tested again”

Despite being calm, Tatsumi seemed disappointed. He never knew what was going on in the fellow alpha’s head, or why he’d want to go cheering him up after probably giving the man a good laugh at how pathetic he was as a pilot. He’d been the one to say he could do this, and now they were all telling him he couldn’t. His pride was wounded. Sure, they all knew he was a second year student, but Tatsumi should have known better than to come at him with whatever it was

“Maki, it’s alright. This is only your third session”

“And how many more do you need to see me fail?!”

There went his temper again. Standing up, Tatsumi wrapped his arms around him

“It’s not a failure. You’d be dead if you failed, or even worse, in a vegetative state where all we could do was liquidate your organs. I’ll get your things ready, take a shower when you’re back at your dorm. It’ll still be within curfew”

“I can shower here, it’s all the same”

“The same for you, not for them. Your alpha’s showing more than you think. Go easy on us, will you?”

Maki didn’t get it until Tatsumi released him and he saw a noticeable outline in his crotch. There was being worked up, and “being worked up”, an absolutely ridiculous state for a trainee to be in front of everyone. Sliding the towel down, Tatsumi covered his lap before sitting back on his own stool, leaving Maki angry with the mortification of being sprung. His cheeks red as he hissed in a whisper

“Not a word”

“I wasn’t intending on it. Besides, you’re not the only one with one here. I do know how these things work, you know”

“And yet you’re still running your mouth. Piss off already, pervert”

Tatsumi snorted, making a show of turning away as he did, then getting back off the stool on the opposite side

“Right. You stay there, I’ll get your things together”

Maki had a right mind to smack the Professor one for being straight out embarrassing, but supposed technically he’d been spared being seen by Poaw this way thanks to the towel. His stupid dick had gone and betrayed him, and now that he thought about it, Tatsumi’s warmth hadn’t helped things down there. It’d been so long, probably too long, since he’d taken matters into his own hands and now his goddamn babysitter would know exactly what he was getting up to later that night. This was all Tatsumi’s fault.

[kouros-herc]

RP Questionnaire 2022

Your Name: 

Laura

Characters:

Hercules Kouros / Jessie Wright / Jeremy Johnson

Pick one of your characters and talk about their growth (we recommend choosing an older character, but it’s up to you!) What about their story has surprised you? What are you proud of? How have they changed from their original inception to now?

Hercules - Herc has had a relatively gentle year it feels (which is saying something) as I get my feet on the ground and try to establish the character without doing anything too drastic. When I first got Herc I loved him as someone who just did things without over thinking. Now as the year went on I think I lost that, a bit, because I was so busy exploring the pressures of his job and how that weighs on him and forces him to overthink more (and also because I am terrible at both being in the moment, and feeling like I have to over-explain all of his motivations for doing something so that people will understand him as a person). Ideally this will be something I come back to though as slowly his confidence as a business owner is growing, he’s almost exactly 1 year in and hasn’t tanked his gym, so he feels slowly better and better. 

I am really proud of having built him a support network that is gradually growing - it’s difficult coming in as a new RP-er with a character who’s supposed to have been around for years. But he now has lots of friendships that feel quite organic.

Pick another character (or the same character if you only have one) and talk a little about where you WANT them to go. What are your plans for them going into the new year? 

Jeremy - So far everyone’s favourite Boy Next Door has been doing what he does best - bimbling along not having too much drama. I have some plans coming up over the Winter break and into the new year that are intended to push him forwards somewhat, both musically and personally. 2023 is going to be the year of The Incidentals baby! He’s going to start getting his name out there, building that reputation as more than just a former choir boy. 

Herc - Eh I wanted to still talk about this actually so. Next year is going to see Herc continuing to build in confidence, but I also really want to see him engage with his powers, with his status as a Magick and to keep facing discomfort, but striding forwards. 

Pick a thread or a plot that you’re proud of and talk about why you loved it. 

- Firstly, the DTR thread with Clementine and Vicky. The thread really summed up the entire point of the Vixerc relationship (RIP but it had to happen to give us Vixxen so you know we won) - two people trying so hard to do everything right that actually they were getting all the basics wrong. Plus chaos, shenanigans, clanging from the kitchen. Thanks for involving me in your Vixxen love story and for writing with me!

- Not to blow my own horn but I am going to that’s the whole point but As Time Goes By. The thing about Jessie that is so unlike any character I’ve ever played before is the sheer depth of backstory that I had worked out even before I applied for her. In many ways the entire story I am trying to tell with her character is one that has already BEEN told, it’s just slowly unfolding to you, the audience. I love adding the layers, revealing more and more why she is the way that she is, and the events that have shaped her, I think it’s a real exercise in character creation for me from body language to appearance I try to craft everything to all tie in to that larger narrative and I can’t wait until some of my little easter-eggs to myself start to pay off.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 strengths and talk about why you think it’s one of your strengths.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 areas of improvement.

With love, not going to answer these - see last question for reason.

Pick one of your plots, or even just a character, and come up with a list of 3-5 “mentor texts” where you can look for inspiration or research, then write a short (2-4 sentences) why you picked those texts. (They don’t have to be books, either!)

Jeremy: 

- Heartstopper. For reasons that may indeed, be obvious. He’s dealing with a crush in a way that is new and kind of unsettling and he doesn’t really know what to do with it. 

- Pitch Perfect. For what is Jeremy Johnson if not Skyler Astin’s character from Pitch Perfect? He’s an acapella guy ... it’s inevitable. 

- Leah on the Offbeat. Again, this is a youngster finding themselves in many many ways. Who do they want to be, who do they like? Self-exploration. Making mistakes and assumptions about other people along the way. 

- Albums by; Passenger, Hozier, Lewis Capaldi, Jack Savoretti, Paolo Nutini. They are all exceptional artists in different ways whose music I draw on a lot, but with a high degree of artistry that can be instructive for Jeremy.

And now, a wishlist! Jot down a few themes or stories or genres etc that you want to maybe pursue in the upcoming year! (i.e. a good ol’ fashion forbidden romance, maybe you want to dig deep into racial identity etc) This doesn’t have to necessarily be attached to any characters or stories you have now– it’s just meant to help you see for yourself what kind of stories call to your heart.

Herc: Let’s throw him back out on the dating scene and watch him make a mess again. Let’s see him use his powers, let’s see him be a HERO! (Let’s see it go to his head and make him a bit full of himself), let’s just keep building those friendships and dynamics and see what happens. 

Jessie: I have got to find an excuse for her to get herself a house and settle and admit she’s staying. I love The Hauntley so much but it would open so many more doors once she admits to herself she’ll be around for a while. Including some neat little interactions I have planned for her move-in.

Jeremy: 2023 baby! Year of the growth! Teenage rebellion coming in a touch late. I want him to explore his sexuality, let’s see him get his heart broken and have his Taylor Swift moment, let’s have his coming out arc with parents and friends. 

OPTIONAL: Why do you RP?

So last winter I had extreme writers block with my thesis and following all the advice started writing some short one-shots based on previous rp characters to share with a friend. In doing so I remembered how much I loved character writing and had missed it. One well-timed plug from Emma later and voila. 

But for me a lot of the reason I write is to practice things I am bad at in real life - to practice being adaptable (Characters like Herc and Jeremy allow me to ‘go with the flow’ and explore unexpected threads and connections), being creative, and to work on my perfectionism. That is why I am refusing to answer the other questions about strengths and weaknesses. I am already plagued by ‘I’m not good enough’ and insecurity without reflecting any more on what I can do better (and trust me even trying to reflect on strengths leads me down a path to that). Writing is the one hobby I have where I am trying to allow myself to not be perfect - so I apologise when my replies are full of typos or don’t make sense, and I apologise because I know I am far from a perfect partner but I am trying to take on board peoples preferences and personal styles etc and be better, without letting myself get to obsessed about being ‘perfect’ all the time. 

Anyway, since we’re coming up to a year, thanks for having me. Thanks for putting up with me. Here’s to better and brighter

[devilsrolldice]

The reality if ‘The Winchesters’ fails:

So I’ve seen a lot of discourse surrounding The Winchesters the supernatural prequel series and I have decided to put in my two cents because why not. For reference I have a degree in marketing and public relations and took multiple media studies courses while I was in college. If you needed some reason to take my word on this topic and know it has some legitimacy and that it’s not just an opinion piece.

The Winchesters has been controversial from its conception. I’ll be honest with you I wasn’t even interested in it when it first was announced. However the reality here is if it fails that’s it that’s the end of the supernatural universe. If you don’t want to watch it by all means don’t watch something you’re not interested in. But if you’re wishing for it to fail and crash and burn let me spell out the reality there for you.

If the prequel fails there will be no continuation no fix it, no empty rescue, no heaven break out. Well why? Well because we’re working with tv which is at its core a business. The CW and Warner Bros have invested a lot of money into The Winchesters and trusting CMP to give them a product that will be profitable. You often don’t get multiple chances with TV business. CMP is working directly with Warner Bros and The Winchesters is their first project. If The Winchesters fails and doesn’t bring in the money or viewership it’s supposed to it will not get picked up for the back half of their season and it will get cancelled. The network is not likely to continue to support a universe that didn’t make them money or a production company who’s first major project flopped. So you can kiss away your dreams of more supernatural projects.

Supernatural already has two spin offs (Bloodlines and Wayward Sisters) that got canceled before they could even start. Both of these coming during supernaturals initial run when supernatural was at its peak popularity. So a spin off prequel is a risk for a network that didn’t see viability in two past spin offs. But they do see it here. They do see potential and with a successful prequel we are opening up a whole world of possibilities within the supernatural universe. But if it fails and crashes and burns as so many people wish it to, that’s it. That’s the end.

Some of you might say: But If this fails can’t we just show them we want a different show in the supernatural universe? No. Simply the investors and higher ups are going to look at numbers and when they see numbers that don’t match their monetary projections they are going to abandon that universe completely and write it off as not profitable. They will move on to something else. And these investors won’t be looking at your tweets and tumblr posts saying oh we don’t want this we want something better. They will not care. This is a money game for them and they will put their time and energy into what makes them money. Jensen saying hate watch it wasn’t completely a joke. The numbers are what matter to the network not the reasoning behind watching or not watching.

This is the ground we need to build off of to get to where we want to end up. If you want a future for the Supernatural universe and want the possibility for a finale fix it, for a empty rescue, for a heaven breakout, this is where we need to start and it needs your support. We need The Winchesters to succeed. I’m writing this not to try to convince anyone who might not be interested but to explain to those of you wishing it’s downfall the ramifications of this failing.

-laur