#my second not ms paint exclusive :(

[thewisestdino]

sasha and 12 :D

Women, they will come and they will go When the rain washes you clean, you'll know

[elryuse]

Hierarchy

Part 3 : New Faces, Same Cases

Y/n POV

The morning sun painted the sky in hues of gold and pink as I pedaled my beloved bicycle towards Jooshin High. The wind whipped through my hair, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. I felt a sense of peace and tranquility wash over me, a stark contrast to the anxiety that had been gnawing at me in the days leading up to this moment.

As I approached the school, a line of luxury cars snaked along the driveway. Their polished exteriors gleamed under the morning sun, a testament to the wealth and privilege of their owners. A red carpet had been rolled out, a crimson ribbon leading to the grand entrance.

I watched in fascination as a group of four girls emerged from the cars. They were dressed in designer outfits, their long legs and flawless makeup drawing the attention of everyone around them. Wonyoung, Ryujin, Minjeong, and Jimin—the angels of Jooshin High, as they were known—stepped onto the red carpet, their every movement a picture of grace and elegance.

I was both dazzled and dumbfounded. What was the significance of the red carpet? Why were they treated so differently? As I parked my bicycle, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had stumbled into a different world.

Gathering my courage, I made my way into the school. The halls were filled with students, their conversations a low hum of privilege and exclusivity. I felt like a small fish in a vast, unfamiliar ocean.

My classroom was a cavernous space, bathed in the soft glow of fluorescent lights. The desks were arranged in neat rows, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the hallway. I found my seat at the back, hoping to blend into the background.

As I sat down, I couldn't help but notice the way the other students were staring at me. They were sizing me up, assessing my worth. I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me.

A few minutes later, a woman entered the room. She was tall and elegant, with a warm smile that instantly lit up the room. "Good morning, everyone," she said. "My name is Ms. Han So Hee, and I'll be your homeroom teacher for this year."

She greeted the privileged students first, her voice filled with warmth and admiration. When she turned her attention to the scholarship students, her tone shifted slightly, becoming more formal.

"Welcome to Jooshin High," she said. "I hope you will find this to be a challenging and rewarding experience."

After introducing herself, Ms. Han outlined the rules and policies of the school. The first rule was clear: the privileged students were the main focus of the teachers. The scholarship students were secondary. The second rule was even more shocking: the educational materials would be differentiated, with a greater emphasis on the privileged students.

A murmur of discontent rippled through the scholarship students. We had all been warned about the elitism of Jooshin High, but this was beyond anything we could have imagined.

As the students were discussing the rules, a familiar figure burst into the room. It was Ryujin, one of the angels of Jooshin High. She apologized profusely to Ms. Han, who dismissed her apology with a wave of her hand.

"It's quite alright, Ryujin," she said. "Just be more careful in the future."

Ryujin thanked Ms. Han and took her seat. The other students watched in awe, their eyes filled with envy.

But the scene took a dramatic turn when a scholarship student, who had arrived late, tried to enter the classroom. The doorman stopped him, his face stern. "I'm sorry, but you're late," he said. "You're not allowed to enter the class."

The student pleaded with the doorman, but to no avail. He was expelled from the class, his face filled with shame and humiliation.

As I watched the scene unfold, I felt a cold dread settle in my stomach. Jooshin High was not what I had expected. It was a hell on earth.

Small Timeskip

The classroom door swung shut behind Ms. Han, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the cacophony of the hallway. As soon as she was out of sight, the students pulled out their phones, tablets, and laptops, their screens illuminating their faces. The air was filled with the sounds of games, laughter, and idle chatter.

I couldn't help but notice Ryujin, her presence radiating through the room. She was surrounded by her friends, a group of privileged students who seemed to orbit around her. There was something about her that drew me in, a magnetic force that pulled me towards her.

As I watched her, she glanced in my direction. A flicker of recognition crossed her face, and then she smiled. My heart skipped a beat. I quickly turned away, pretending to be engrossed in my book.

But Ryujin wasn't deterred. She stood up and walked towards me, her steps confident and purposeful. I felt a surge of excitement and dread.

"Hi there," she said, her voice warm and inviting. "I've never seen your face before. What's your name, little one?"

I was taken aback by her familiarity. She was one of the most popular girls in school, and yet she was talking to me as if we were old friends.

"My name is Y/n," I replied, my voice barely audible.

Ryujin smiled. "Nice to meet you, Y/n. You're new here, aren't you?"

I nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement.

"Well, welcome to Jooshin High," Ryujin said. "I hope you'll enjoy your time here."

I thanked her, my heart racing. I couldn't believe that Ryujin was actually talking to me.

"Would you like to join us?" she asked, gesturing towards her friends.

I hesitated, unsure of what to do. But something inside me told me to say yes.

"Sure," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

Ryujin took my hand and led me to her group of friends. They were all dressed in designer clothes, their laughter and chatter a constant buzz of energy. I felt out of place, but Ryujin seemed to sense my discomfort.

"Don't worry, you'll fit right in," she said, squeezing my hand.

As we sat down, Ryujin's friends introduced themselves. There was Minjeong, the ice queen of the group; Jimin, the bubbly social butterfly; Chaewon, the quiet observer; and Yeji, the rebellious free spirit.

They all seemed to be very friendly, and they made an effort to include me in their conversations. I was surprised by their warmth and openness.

After a while, Ryujin pulled out a vape. The other girls followed suit, inhaling deeply. I watched them with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"Have you ever tried this?" Minjeong asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I shook my head. "No, I can't smoke."

The girls laughed. "Oh, come on," Jimin said. "It's not that bad."

I resisted the urge to try it. I didn't want to disappoint Ryujin or her friends, but I also didn't want to do anything that could harm me.

As we sat there, chatting and laughing, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. For the first time since I arrived at Jooshin High, I felt like I was part of something.

Just as we were starting to get comfortable, the bell rang. Ryujin took my hand and led me back to our classroom.

"We should hang out sometime," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation.

As we entered the classroom, I couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. Perhaps Jooshin High wasn't as bad as I had thought. Maybe there was a chance for me to find my place here after all.

Meanwhile In So-hyun's POV

The hum of the air conditioner filled the classroom, a constant drone that barely registered in my mind. My gaze drifted out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. As the queen bee of Jooshin High, I was accustomed to feeling on top of the world, but today was different.

A sudden vibration in my pocket snapped me out of my reverie. I pulled out my phone, my heart pounding. An anonymous number had sent me a photo. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the younger version of myself, vaping and laughing with a boy who looked completely out of place. He was dressed in plain clothes, his books piled high, a stark contrast to the designer labels I was accustomed to.

Panic surged through me. I typed furiously, demanding to know who the sender was and what they wanted. But the anonymous person remained silent, sending only a chilling message: "Soon... You'll understand."

Fear gripped me as I realized the implications of the photo. It was a secret I had buried deep, a part of my past I had hoped to forget. The thought of it being exposed to my classmates and friends filled me with dread.

I couldn't believe it. I, So-hyun, the queen bee of Jooshin High, was being threatened. I was the one who controlled the social hierarchy, the one who everyone looked up to. How could anyone dare to challenge me?

Overwhelmed by a mix of fear and anger, I burst into tears. I ran out of the classroom, leaving my friends Yujin and Gaeul confused and concerned. As Gaeul followed me into the bathroom, I collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

"So-hyun, what's wrong?" Gaeul asked, her voice filled with worry.

I couldn't find the words to explain. The secret I had been hiding for so long was now threatening to destroy everything I had built. I was terrified of what would happen if anyone found out about my past.

"I don't know," I managed to choke out. "I just... I'm scared."

Gaeul wrapped her arms around me, offering comfort. "We'll figure this out together," she said. "Just tell me what's going on."

I hesitated, unsure if I was ready to share my secret. But I knew that I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. So I told her everything, from the vaping to the boy I had met.

Gaeul listened intently, her expression filled with shock and concern. "I can't believe you never told me," she said. "You're not alone, So-hyun. We're all here for you."

Her words offered me some comfort, but the fear still lingered. I knew that the person who had sent me the photo was watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

In the days that followed, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I was constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting to be caught. The stress was taking a toll on me, and I began to feel physically ill.

One night, as I was trying to sleep, my phone buzzed again. I opened it with trepidation, expecting another message from the anonymous sender. But to my surprise, it was a text from an unknown number.

"Meet me at the old amusement park tomorrow night at midnight," the message read. "If you don't come, I'll release your secret to everyone."

Panic surged through me. I knew that I couldn't ignore the threat. I had to go.

The next night, I found myself standing at the entrance of the abandoned amusement park. The place was eerily quiet, the only sound the wind rustling through the trees. I hesitated for a moment, but then I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

As I wandered through the park, I felt a sense of dread creeping over me. The place was dark and foreboding, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. I turned around, my heart pounding. There, standing in the shadows, was a figure cloaked in darkness.

"So-hyun," the figure said, their voice cold and menacing. "It's time for you to pay the price."

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. The figure stepped closer, their eyes glinting in the darkness.

"You think you're so perfect, don't you?" they said. "But you're just like everyone else. A hypocrite who pretends to be something she's not."

Before I could react, the figure grabbed me and pulled me into the shadows. I struggled to break free, but their grip was too strong.

As the figure dragged me deeper into the park, I realized that my secret was about to be exposed. My carefully constructed image was about to be shattered, and I would be left alone and humiliated.

I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the worst. But then, something unexpected happened. A bright light flashed in the distance, followed by the sound of sirens.

The figure froze, their grip on me loosening. I took advantage of the distraction and broke free. I ran towards the light, my heart pounding in my chest.

As I reached the edge of the park, I saw a police car pulling up. I stumbled towards the officers, my legs shaking.

"Help me," I cried, tears streaming down my face.

The officers rushed over to me, their faces filled with concern. They listened to my story, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"We'll find out who did this," one of the officers said. "Don't worry, we'll protect you."

As the officers escorted me to their car, I looked back at the abandoned amusement park. I knew that my ordeal was far from over, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of hope.

To Be Continued

[valorkook]

Milestones | j.jk

pairings: jeon jungkook x genderneutral!reader

type/warning: hospital!AU, doctor!jungkook, nurse!reader, romance, some fluff and angst on the side, tsundere!jungkook (cold, temperamental character), enemies-to-lovers trope, inaccurate depiction of hospital work environment, kind of inspired from Koi wa Tsuzuku yo Dokomademo and from my dreams lmao

word count: 6.5 k

summary:  After you were transferred into a different hospital department, you’re still getting used to the two things that bothered you in the first place upon arrival; the scream and the cries the children would make when a nurse, like you, is approaching them every time. . . as well as the annoying yet handsome doctor who never fails to test your limits since day one, but you are not the kind of person that easily backs down from these new challenges. You convinced yourself that you’re headstrong, but does your heart lie on the same page as your mind?

prologue | part one | part 2 

The jitters you began to develop while on your way to work today haven’t cease despite the amounts of deep breaths you took so early in the morning. The sun was only beginning to come up by the time you picked up your first cup of coffee in the nearby café, located less than a block away from the main building of the Severance Hospital, and yet it did nothing but increase the nervousness within you tenfold. The last time you remember feeling like this was when you were starting your first rotation as a licensed nurse, fresh from nursing school and was yet to hone the skills necessary in real-life work.

What one of your professors had told you was the truth; you ought to throw the things you learned in textbooks out of the window by the start of practicing your profession within the hospital setting.

And you were throwing every bit of studying you did last weekend, gone was your ability to recall the videos online that were supposedly helpful to refresh your memory regarding pediatric nursing as you embark on the same stairs you climb every morning. Except you’re about to take 30 steps more than usual, and you only got a second glimpse of the grand doors of the maternity unit then taking a turn left to do 15 steps more before landing on the third floor of the hospital. The whole floor housing the pediatric unit.

Gone are the usual beige walls that covered the majority of the hospital’s interior when you stepped into the main hallway of the your new ward. Instead of the aforementioned color, the walls on both of your sides were now covered with more than just one pigment. Animated fishes of different varieties were painted atop the waves that went on and on until the end of the corridor. It’s like visiting a marine park in Seoul where aquarium windows reach from floor to ceiling, though the fishes are unmoving.

You took a sip from your cup hastily when you arrived in the nurses’ locker room, where you’re about to change into scrubs but you left your tongue burning in the process. The usual pink and white patterned uniform was not present in your designated locker and was replaced with a colorful, confetti-like patterned top and plain navy pants to match the background of your scrub shirt.

It was awful, you internally groaned as you grabbed it out from its hanger.

The time was 6:20 AM when you stepped out of the changing room, and most of the crowd that filled the quarters reduced to merely two people which made you panic a little. Compared to the former ward you worked from, it wasn’t until quarter to seven that you’re about to start knowing the patients you will have for the day based on the hand-off report from the previous nurse in shift. But now, not only you were lost in place, but also lost in time and orientation.

This was not what you discussed yesterday over the phone with Ms. Jung, the head nurse of this pediatric unit.  In reality, the conversation you had with her did not even reach this topic; the unspoken rules that only exist exclusively in this ward.

You brushed off any stray hairs that lingered in front of your sight before you gulped down the rest of your coffee—which is still quite hot, by the way—and zoomed out of the room and towards the back doors of the nurses’ station.

“Oh, here’s our new addition to this ward!” a person who wears the same scrubs as yours, presumably a nurse like you, called the attention of those who are within the spacious station. The walls were painted a light blue tone, with no patterns that matched the design of the walls of the corridor. The main oval table in the middle of the station was filled with amounts of files and papers stacked and clipped into binders for each patient that is currently confined in the ward. Little to no pens did not litter the surface at all, as those can be found in the clutch of other healthcare staff or safe within the deep pockets stitched into their uniforms.

After scanning briefly the area for no more than seven seconds, you turned your body towards where the sound of the voice came from. At one of the corners of the station, where the computers are located at the table below the receiving counters, stood a man in front of it. No doubt another nurse as he adorns the same uniform, but your eyes were mesmerized at how he fits the scrubs.

Like he was built to become a pediatric nurse in the first place.

“Ms. Jung is currently busy at the back room.” he pointed behind him, not far off was a room separated by a blue curtain beside another entrance into the station. You noticed from his statement that he is not from the night shift but rather someone who will be joining you today. Hopefully, because you still feel like a lost kid at a grocery store.

He smiled, the whites of his eyes are nearly unrecognizable with the way it mimicked the curve of his lips, “I’m given the opportunity to guide you shortly before we start our rounds. Hello, I am Jimin, and welcome to the Pediatric ward!”

Jimin’s smile was infectious as your lips curved into a small smile, “Thank you for the greetings, I am _____.”

Your interaction with him somewhat gained a few audiences in the station, most of them started to assess your presence as the new nurse in the unit. Out of all the schedules of shifts you were allowed to choose, you rather chose the morning shift as your body clock was accustomed to waking up early.

But you don’t know that deep within the thoughts of others, especially those who are about to start the hand-off report to the next nurses in shift that will accompany you today, that you were brave to choose the hectic mornings that you will have from here on end.

Not far from the station, some footsteps began to trudge their way through the still empty hallways of the pediatric ward. While you were oriented by nurse Jimin with the location of different instruments used and restocked in the medical carts, the other nurses were starting to exchange information before the shift officially starts, before the doctors officially made their presence known in the station, waiting for nurses to instantly report the progress of each of their patient’s health and well-being.

The increased number of pediatric patients since last year was done with the strict routine that a doctor has applied on his team of healthcare professionals. With the emphasis on the word professionals, he meant that those who have gained their license to practice healthcare and can easily understand the instructions he would dictate without another repetition. He’s the kind of doctor who is passionate about treating each of his patients but refuses to show even a drop of empathy towards his team.

That is admirable, so to say. To see a doctor who’s not slacking off and is concerned with the individual needs of his patients, especially since his clients are children spanning from days old to weeks, up until to those teenagers who are a day away from turning 18. Yes, they’re still placed within the pediatric ward if they are even hours away from their 18th birthday. It’s hospital policy.

“Over there are computer carts, though there’s only four as we’re still in the phase of turning from paper documents to electronic medical records.” Jimin explained the situation on the large table in the center,

“Though there is one doctor who prefers the use of those computer carts, so you have to learn it within this day. I’ll—” he stopped to duck under the built-in table, beneath the computers installed on the station desks where you peek down to find pocketbooks lined up, “Here are the manuals, and I’d really love to show you how they work but I’ll have to receive my shift hand-offs right now before they come.” The orientation for you came to a halt when he mouthed you an apology, pointing at Ms. Jung who seemed to be unoccupied with any work at the moment.

The curtains have been drawn open by the time you meet head nurse Jung, who greeted you with a warm smile, “My apologies, I have been busy filing necessary papers but now I can continue where we—or you and Jimin left off.”

“Oh, he was about to show me how the computer attached to those carts works.” you keened, showing a manual on your grip as you begin to flip the pages.

“They nearly have the same user interface as what we use within the ward, but it gets kind of tricky to link the data input into the devices in this station. Come with me and I’ll show you how it works.” Ms. Jung was quick to approach the carts while you made a segue to throw your empty cup into the appropriate trash bin.

Though while booting up the computer, instead of focusing your mind towards the instructions shown on the pocketbook, you were rather distracted by the footsteps that approached you. Or the station, for that matter.

“Good morning Dr. Jeon!” Ms. Jung called for the tall man wearing a doctor’s typical white coat, his side profile was what attracted your sight to him instead of the bright light emitting from the screen of the computer beside you and your head nurse. Finally, he turned his head towards yours when you saw him completely.

God, he looks too young to be a doctor expert in his chosen specialty. There were nearly no blemishes that covered his face, no evidence of what struggles and stress he had faced during his internship. In fact, his youthful face, accentuated by the shape, seems like those who are about to start their residency. Fresh from med school, all-knowing kind of doctor.

Ms. Jung sensed that you two were focused on each other when she continues to speak, “This is our n--”

With one glance at your ID pinned at the side of your scrubs, he finally talked in a monotonous tone, “You, nurse _____. Let’s start the rounds.”

Both you and Ms. Jung were dumbfounded from his statement, though it didn’t last a minute and she started to convince him to give you time to adjust into this new atmosphere, “But doctor, I was about to orient them with how things run in the morning. Catered to what every other nurse this shift is accustomed to,” somehow, her words were lacking information. What routine do nurses have in this unit? Does it differ from what you’re used to?

He only cleared his throat, “I presumed they came from another unit, yes?” the head nurse confirmed immediately, “then they knew what they’re doing in this hospital. Choose a cart and let’s go.”

You stammered, “I-I, uh…” you hesitantly grabbed onto the bar of the cart, keeping the pocketbook inside one of its free compartments before catching up to the hasty doctor who’s leading the way down the corridor.

Back in the station, another nurse named Seulgi caught the sudden interaction between you and him near the entrance of the station, a wave of goosebumps appeared on her body as she gathering her mint green clipboard filled with the hand-off reports she was supposed to relay to you before Doctor Jeon arrived. She didn’t expect that he would be strutting earlier than his expected time.

She ran off of her seat in front of the computer, hoping to catch you and him still in the corridors before you enter a patient’s room.

 If you were to describe Dr. Jeon in one word, it would be cold. . . or cold-looking, if that’s even a word that any online dictionaries would confirm. One look at his face would tell you that he’s serious, like he hasn't had a cup of coffee nor a bun of bread to eat this morning. He doesn’t participate in any chit-chat much like the other doctors in this hospital. Most of the doctors you interact with are pleasant to participate in little talks, whether it concerns the patient’s health or simply about your personal life. Though with him, it was hard to initiate conversation at first glance.

You can see from the stitch embroidered above the chest pocket of his white coat, displaying his full name as Jeon Jungkook, MD. Weirdly for you, it sounds familiar.

Is he the most known doctor in this hospital? Is he the one responsible for the influx of--

“I suggest you stop daydreaming and start assessing the vitals of patient 325.” Jungkook, or Dr. Jeon rebuked. His left arm was still holding the door wide open for you and your cart to go inside. He’s only demanding for vitals yet he made you push the trolley from the station.

Thankfully, your routine of putting your handheld equipment in the pockets of your scrub and hanging the stethoscope over your neck made it easier for you this moment from embarrassing yourself. Placing the cart onto the side of the room, you approached the patient who seemed to be coiling himself in the arms of his mother. Seemingly scared to see a new face.

The tone of your voice shifts to a gentle one as you show the kid what you have in your pockets. Regretful to only pack 3 mint candies for you to consume later on, instead of buying any lollipops to give. While you were busy tending to the child, Dr. Jeon was already conversing with what you assumed to be the father of the child at the couch next to the bed. The mother joins soon after.

“Schedule another blood count for the patient later, I want the results by tomorrow so the family can prepare themselves for discharge. And--” he paused, seeing you only using a tickler and a pen, “why are you not inputting my orders into the computer?”

“I’ll attempt to encode it soon,” you tried to reason

“Don’t you know how computers work?” he disputed, right in front of the family of the patient. You feel embarrassed, like someone poured a bucket full of cold water over your body yet all you could feel was tears threatening to spill from your eyes at that moment.

It was an unnecessary outburst that he exhibited, much less in front of his patient as you blinked once, twice before you bowed yourself in front of the patient before leaving the room, dragging the cart from behind as you pulled the door open. A flustered Seulgi was waiting just outside the door when you stepped out.

“I should’ve approached you since you entered the station earlier, I didn’t know he would be choosing you to accompany him so quickly.” She managed to tell you, slightly out of breath from running after you, “I’m Seulgi by the way.”

You cleared your throat before replying, “I’m _____. Can you try to catch me up with the reports? As well as this one,” you gestured to the cart you’re still holding. Seulgi was quick to nod, immediately opening her mouth and pointing to and from the monitor prior to reporting the patients you will be handling today.

“You weren’t supposed to be accompanying Dr. Jeon during the rounds this morning, I thought they were still Dr. Park’s patient and yet she hadn't shown up in the station earlier.” she explained.

A tsked from behind startled you and her, “I am pretty sure I had informed our head nurse Ms. Jung about that,” Dr. Jeon said in a matter-of-fact tone, “I never knew the experienced nurse who entered our unit is apparently not equipped enough in what we’re dealing with here.”

You took a deep breath before responding calmly, “With all due respect, I believe that I am perfectly capable to handle the workflow in this ward Dr. Jeon. If only you allowed me a little time to be oriented with the equipment you used here.” you gestured to the cart, “I am fine with being scolded for my wrongdoings, but doing that in front of the patient looks unprofessional on our part. Especially yours, doctor.” you continued, seeing his facial expression falter for a second, then disappearing as if he’s not guilty of what has occurred. First day of your work in this ward and you’re already looking forward to going home, and perhaps going back to the maternity ward sooner than you planned.

No way you’re letting anyone, much less a doctor, undervalue your skills that you developed over time. “You should know the demands of every patient prior to arriving in this unit, nurse _____. We suffer from the shortages due to incompetence from our former staff and I don’t want you to become a deadweight for us, tarnishing the reputation we built as well as the lives we’ve saved.” he huffed, his eyes glaring at yours for a few seconds.

“I won’t be a deadweight, I can assure you that.” you vowed, tightening your grip over the trolley.

“Or you won’t last another day.” he added to your statement, then he turned around and proceeded to walk away from where you and Seulgi were still standing. She only cheered you in a whispered tone, as excessive noise is prohibited in the hallways, before she trudged back to the station.

You went off to follow the footsteps of the doctor in front of you, being aware of what you’re about to prepare for the next patient. You believed that he’s doing rounds according to the chronological order of his patients’ rooms, and so you flipped over the paper of the next patient.

During the course of the rounds, there was tension between you and him. Though you were able to answer the questions he threw at you, he was still hostile with you. Maybe he’s like that with everyone except his patients. Head nurse Jung managed to see you from afar, walking a few feet apart from Dr. Jeon as you recognized the guilt and the pending apology she would give you through her eyes.

Truth to be told, Ms. Jung knew how ruthless Dr. Jeon can be. It was a mistake on her part to not check her emails from time to time as she missed the email from Dr. Park sent yesterday about how she would be taking a day off, never knowing that he would be the one to treat her patients in her behalf today.

By the time head nurse Jung was finished explaining the reason you were too early to face the most demanding doctor in their unit, he was long gone from the station. Finding no purpose to stay as Dr. Jeon already managed to see you inputting the data, which means it would appear right on his laptop when he comes back to his office.

“You see how he’s like a phantom lurking around until he makes his presence known when you make a mistake.” Nurse Jimin teased while you and him were on a short lunch break, “though I applaud you for standing up to him, other nurses around here gossiped at how he was the reason for the staff shortages we’re experiencing in this ward.”

You tilt your head in question, “Why would he be?”

“Some of us here are kind of afraid of him, you see how he’s gentle with his patients and their relatives yet he treats others terribly, like how he was earlier with you.”

“How did you know---”

“Word travels fast, I guess.” he chuckled before taking a bite from his lunch. With a mouthful of food, he still replied, “Seulgi heard the commotion, the doors here can only muffle sounds but we can recognize his voice whenever Jungkook is aggravated.”

“Are you close to him?” you asked.

“Yeah, we attended the same nursing school.” Jimin casually replied.

You gasped, “wait, he’s also a nurse?”

“Yep, that is why he can criticize our work from time to time. Though he applied for medical school right after we got our license.” Jimin was quick on consuming his meal, now already packing his lunch boxes splayed onto the small coffee table in the lounge room tucked behind the station.

No more than a minute and he spoke, “It was nice talking with you, _____!” and waved his hand goodbye before he was off to continue his tasks before his shift ended. Which leaves you alone to yourself, perhaps with some other nurses whom you had yet to meet or introduce yourself personally.

The awkward atmosphere after Jimin left returns. And now you attempt to consume the rest of your packed lunch so you can start medical administrations towards your patient. You recalled earlier at how head nurse Jung would make the effort, insisting you to let her assign you to other patients that are not handled by Dr. Jeon, but you kindly declined since you are becoming accustomed to the needs of those patients. Not mentioning how you are determined to prove him wrong by successfully doing the tasks delegated to you, as well as adding your own insights that may be helpful in determining the prognosis of every patient assigned to you and him.

The empathetic side of you was quick to forgive his actions earlier, call it the attitude that you essentially developed back in nursing school. You never once doubted your ability when you started working in this hospital, and your evaluation forms from your former head nurse can prove that. As head nurse Jung has told you, you were still about to learn the difference of workflow that you established back in the maternity ward with what you’re currently grasping in their unit. You were never meant to work with him on your first day here, perhaps on day three with what she has scheduled for you and the other nurses in the morning shift.

You were glad to have Jimin and Seulgi, though she was long gone when you finished your rounds with Dr. Jeon. . . and the fact that she’s quite the blabbermouth with what has transpired between you and him travelled so quickly, from one mouth and ear to another.

The rest of your shift was peaceful, to say the least. You guessed that Dr. Jeon won’t drop by until later after your work so you were busy compiling documents needed to be printed and filed according to the patient’s medical information, as well as making discharge plans with other patients that are bound to be leaving the hospital the next day. Your hands were aching to a point where you keep shaking them from the pain that radiates through your fingertips, and time seemed to pass by when you saw that it was already 15 minutes since the end of your shift.

Most of the nurses you recognize earlier in the morning, including Jimin, are nowhere to be found at this time. They must’ve given their hand-off reports earlier before the time struck 14:00. While you were busy, you were beginning to proceed with your own reports towards the next nurse in shift.

“It’s your first day and you’re handling Dr. Jeon’s behavior,” nurse Nari, the one who’s about to take over your patients in the afternoon till evening, mused. “How was he?”

“Tolerable” you mumble, afraid that he might hear you even though he was still not in the nurses’ station.

She laughed only in return, “Oh he was intolerable for me on my first day here, but soon enough he softened up to me.”

You raised your brows, “Are you and him. . ?”

Nari shifted to full-on giggling, “No! But maybe someday when he’s ready to start his love life, I might do a little flirting here and there. For now, he’s focused on being a doctor full-time; he never bothered to go out on dates and he’s always found in his office at any time of the day.”

You hummed with the information she has revealed to you, though at first you couldn’t care less about the little deets about his personal life. Silence lingers for a bit before you continue to wrap up your work for today, “It was nice talking to you, Nari.”

“You too, _____.” She smiled before waving you goodbye as you were off to find head nurse Jung, itching to go back home in the apartment you are renting two blocks away from Severance hospital.

A week has passed since you started to continue your nursing practice in the pediatric ward. So far, you have set up a routine you follow religiously that enables you to finish all of your work on time. Though there are still a few things that you’re still getting used to,

The first is children who cry when you’re just about to give them syrup medications daily, and the second is the most demanding doctor that ever existed in this ward. . . or rather in this hospital. Although you cannot make a concise statement when you haven’t attempted to transfer to other facilities in this institution other than the maternity and pediatric unit.

There are moments where you see him in a good light; Dr. Jeon Jungkook’s attempt to give a small smile to other staff (or in this case it was just the head nurse and Jimin) and only hummed whenever you give your suggestions pertaining to the well-being of the patients you two were handling every day. Oftentimes you see him in a bad light; a short-tempered doctor who’s trying hard to tolerate other nurses’ attempts at providing a satisfactory result that reaches his criteria or whatever standard he has curated on his own and for the others to follow.

You haven’t had the time to figure out what kind of level he expects others to reach, considering that you were not always assigned to him. With the way the head nurse mixes up the assignments so you could take a breather from him, and for every nurse to ensure the quality of their work is up to what he wants in this unit. You see, you were late to find out that he’s newly appointed head of the pediatric department by the time you entered the ward last week, which only means that the internal pressure he has clearly elevated to satisfy not only the patients but also the administration of the hospital.

Gossips inside the ward would say that he’s working much harder than every other doctor in this institution to chase one thing, and that is to become the medical director of this whole institution. He has no time to create a network of influential people when his name alone can create a buzz in this place, no matter what department or ward you’re currently in. 

A loud clang of what you assumed are clipboards surrounded the ward so suddenly, snapping your focus from what you were currently typing on the computer when you hear the hushed scolding coming from the nook of the station. With the days you spent recognizing others’ faces and voices, you ought to know that Dr. Jeon was hot-headed today and he’s tormenting yet another staff member late in the morning. 

It was a miracle that he was not popping blood vessels when he has a hard time controlling his emotions from bursting like a balloon. Not long and head nurse Jung was quick to rescue another damsel from getting an earful from Dr. Jeon, like the way you experienced on your first day. You didn’t bother to look behind to see the commotion happening behind the curtains until someone tapped your shoulders. 

You looked around to see head nurse Jung, a kind smile adorning her features before gesturing towards Dr. Jeon, who was hasty in checking the charts from the clipboards containing his patients’ profiles. You knew the look she was giving you when you stood up from your seat and approached the grumpy doctor at his seat from the other side of the station. 

With the professional front you’ve practiced every night every time you’re about to face him, you asked “Are there other tasks you want me to take over for nurse Gaeul?” 

He only sighed before looking up at your face. A tired look replaced his usual features before he glanced back at the computer, “Just keep an eye on patient 302 every 15 minutes, report to me when her temperature increased above 38 degrees celsius. Also, check her heart rate.” 

You only offered a single reply of agreement before fetching the patient’s paper chart in one of the clipboards he’s currently looking at next to his laptop. While your hands are about to made contact with the rigid plastic covering, Dr. Jeon was quick to grab your wrist. “Record it on a new paper, nurse _____.” 

His tone of voice was distant to the usual sound emitting from his mouth on a daily basis. It was smoother, a tone of softness lingers when he talked to you today compared to other days. Or is it just his voice he’s using when he was sucked out of energy to do nearly anything productive for a while. 

You only commented, “Seems like you’re tired, when did you last step out of this hospital Dr. Jeon?” 

Although you attempted making small talk, he felt like doing otherwise. “None of your business.”

“Okay.” you awkwardly replied, fleeing from the station after you mumble your apologies towards him. You hoped that no one heard of it except you and him, while he remained unresponsive in his seat with his right hand massaging his temples after you trudge your way out of the station. 

It was after you submitted your charts when you thought you would see the last of him, now that you’re given a day off from working tomorrow. You only hoped that the apartment above yours would settle down from making too much noise during your free time, you were generous enough to give them a few days (3 days would suffice in your own opinion) to completely move their stuff into the building. You didn’t know your new neighbors yet, but you were confident to assume that the people above your floor are the new tenants as the apartment has been vacant for a while. 

You took a shower when you arrived back home. Your slumped posture welcoming the warm shower, sighing in relief with the perfect temperature as you felt yourself getting sleepy in the process. A nap after this would appease your free schedule, containing no plans to even step outside and socialize with your friends who are working in other parts of Seoul city. 

Though your plans didn’t go to plan when you realized you forgot to take out yesterday’s trash. Now clad within your pajamas at 18:00, you begrudgingly picked up the plastic bags lying at the little foyer of your apartment and wore your sandals lying on the steps. You approached the elevators at the end of the dimmed hall, pressing the button going down as you patiently waited for the doors to open.

You nearly dropped the trash bags in your clutch when you saw a familiar face greeting your sight when the doors swung open. Inside the elevator stood Jimin, whose hair was still wet and was also holding recyclable trash on his forearms. A smile grew on both of your faces when you recognized each other. 

“I didn’t know you lived here?!” you exclaimed during the elevator ride down the building.

He replied, “Well, we just moved in days ago. We’re residing on the 5th floor.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re the one who’s been moving stuff in the middle of the night.” you mused, to which he only shyly rubbed his neck probably in embarrassment. 

“We’re sorry about that,”

You shook your head, “No worries though, welcome to the building!”

The elevator doors opened by the time you finished your small talk, but deep inside you were hoping to chat more with him as he has become a close friend of yours since day one. Compared to what you are currently wearing, Jimin seems to be preparing to go somewhere with the way he’s wearing a nice outfit; donning a striped shirt with black jeans and boots to compliment his figure. It was a miracle to still be fit despite the stress you and him are facing nearly every morning. 

“By the way, we’re going out to celebrate our moving in. Perhaps you want to join?” he told you while taking both of your time walking towards the back of the building, where the trash segregation is done manually. You instantly nodded in agreement, granting your wish to hang out with him at least once outside of work.

“We,” you wondered, “who did you move in with? Is it your significant other?” 

A chuckle left his throat only, almost as if he’s too shy to reveal who it is. “Well, I think you know who it is. I have been living with him though it feels like I’m the one who always occupies the apartment because he’s not home most of the time.” 

“He. . . who is he? Jungkook?” you joked, while Jimin’s glance was focused behind your figure.

“What’s funny about my name, miss _____?” Jungkook, once again, made himself known in the worst way possible. You nearly choked in your own spit, eyes widening in astoundment with your reply answering Jimin’s words. 

“Nothing doc-- I mean sir,” you coughed, “Jungkook-ssi. Welcome to the building you two.” You quickly strode away from them towards the glass door entrance of the back of the building. 

While you wanted to cower away for the rest of the night, Jimin never failed to remind you when and where you two (and Jungkook, apparently) will meet for dinner. “Let’s meet down at the lobby in an hour, _____.” 

You only raised your right arm, with your hand gesture agreeing to the arrangement.  

As the time arrived, you were clad from your sleepwear to wearing a simple shirt and jeans to dinner. They were precisely on time when you found them in the lobby once the elevator you’re in arrived on the ground floor. Compared to the usual white coat and formal outfit that adorns Jungkook’s frame, his outfit for tonight consists of loose clothing that barely compliments his figure yet screams comfortability. 

“Tell us when you’re done ogling at me because I’m hungry.” he snapped you out of your thoughts while looking smug. If he weren’t that handsome you could’ve smacked him--

Rather, you quickly averted your gaze towards his companion by his side, “You look great, Jimin.” 

A huff was barely inaudible from the only doctor in the group before exiting the building first, leaving you and Jimin to initiate the conversation on your own. Though he didn’t fail to include Jungkook into the talk, his responses were clipped to a few words only before resorting to silence. He was consumed with the handheld device in his palm most of the time, while simultaneously walking along the pavement. 

“Is he always that cold and harsh when meeting strangers?” You can’t help but ask Jimin who’s walking by your side. 

He replied to your question after looking cautiously at the man walking a few feet away from the two of you, “Not always, though he has the ability to sense those who are trying to score a date with him after their initial conversation with him.”

“So he doesn’t do relationship?” 

Jimin shook his head, looking back at Jungkook who did not make any attempt to remark about his roommate’s statement. “As far as we have lived together, he has never brought a date back home in the last few years.” 

The amount of pork belly you and Jungkook had grilled over later was not quantifiable with your fingers, but you three were still not incoherent enough to count the number of soju bottles that you have drunk during the span of dinner. You were still safe from stumbling your way back home with them. As much as your mind could still absorb the events tonight, you were still capable of comparing the sudden shift in Jungkook’s behavior as it was influenced by the alcohol content of the beverage. 

Your vision could barely capture how he looked tonight after drinking; red-faced and the creases between his brows were nowhere to be found. His eyes were bigger, brighter than the usual sharp stare that your set of eyes meet nearly every morning. The conversation you barely made through with him was now flowing at ease, effectively getting to know each other even though there’s a big possibility that you might forget about it when you wake up the next day.

“Does baby fever exist among the staff in the maternity ward?” Jimin curiously asked out of the blue, which made you choke on the soju shot you’re currently taking. Meanwhile, Jungkook only laughed drunkenly in response. 

“I don’t know how to answer that, but in my experience, I hadn’t thought of it. I mean, babies are cute when they’re still babies, not when they enter the age of 18 months.” 

Jimin hummed, still looking sober among the three of you despite drinking the same amount of alcohol, “Well, what convinced you to join the pediatric unit. Knowing that you’re aware of the ages of the patients we’re treating?” 

Okay. That was a hard question. Rather than replying first, you pick up another slice of grilled pork to eat and ponder more about your answer. The truth can inevitably cause a feud with the involved departments, good thing you have an ounce of sobriety within you at that moment. 

“Is it because of me, huh? You haven’t been able to take your eyes off of me--” Jungkook smugly replied. 

You interrupted him with a scoff, “Get off your high horse, I didn’t know you even exist until I saw your stupid face that morning!” Jimin only laughed when his roommate’s face became stern, with a pout that only appears when he’s had enough alcohol in his system. 

“How is my face stupid!? Children adore me whenever they see me, but with you, they suddenly cry. This face is the reason many people want me. How about you, huh?” Jungkook retorted, his voice slurring more than ever. 

You were about to answer back when Jimin suddenly covered your mouth and Jungkook’s, “You two had enough for tonight, even when you’re drunk you’re still getting on each other’s nerves. And you can’t use your normal voices, we’re not in a bar with booming music to raise your voices!”

Jungkook still tried to respond, even if the sounds were muffled to the point that you can’t comprehend the words he was saying but you were sure that he’s insulting you behind Jimin’s hand. Though it seemed funny at first for Jimin to see how the two of you are acting, he was worried after the bad looks you two were gaining inside the restaurant. 

“I think it’s time we head back home, you guys.” You couldn’t agree more, wanting to make Jungkook disappear from your sight at that moment.

[eiyuhnnn]

WRITTEN BELOW ARE MY INSIGHTS FOR THE SECOND PART OF INTERVIEWS IN EACH BUSINESS

1. Greens&Sweets

The interview with Ms. Jandoc was very interactive. She is thoroughly knowledgeable in her area of specialization. I say this because she had a clear plan when starting the business, which aligned with something she loved doingᅳcooking. I believe this made it easier for her to start the business. She also leveraged her family's vegetable-selling business, which allowed her to focus on healthy foods. Ms. Jandoc's approach was brilliant because she took advantage of every opportunity to start the business she wanted. Additionally, Ms. Jandoc managed the legal documents appropriately. Even though she was operating her business online, she obtained a DTI permit to ensure no one else could use her business name. Acquiring that document was an excellent move because she wanted to make her business known, and she needed her business name to be unique and exclusively hers. We also learned how did she market her business and she said that she chose Instagram as her platform because she understood that most Instagram users are more outgoing than those on other platforms, which is why she focused on selling through Instagram. Given these facts, I believe Ms. Jandoc did a great job of finding her target market for the reasons mentioned above.

2. Cuadro Ocho Inc.

This second interview is quite inspiring for best friends who want to start a business together like us. This business was started by a group of friends who shared a similar vision in the business industry. They began by selling lumber in Iligan, and now they have 11 branches in different locations. This shows that their planning was very successful, including preparing and acquiring all the necessary legal documents, such as SEC registration and the BIR certificate. We also learned and noticed that their business's location was well-planned, considering factors like foot traffic and parking. This is important because they sell hardware supplies, and there may be times when customers purchase bulk products, which would only be possible with proper parking facilities.

3. FMN Agricultural Supply Inc.

The interview we had with this business was very insightful, and we learned a lot from it, especially regarding the process of acquiring the necessary documents. Ms. Tato explained everything they needed to obtain for the business to operate. All the required documents are visibly displayed inside the shop. I believe this is particularly important because they are selling agricultural products, and it could be harmful if they were not licensed to operate. Having these documents not only ensures safety but also builds trust with their customers, as it shows their confidence in the products they are selling. I also learned about the various seminars they needed to attend, such as Red Cross Training and BOSH (Basic Occupational Safety and Health). They also have a Fire Safety Inspection Permit. These permits must be renewed annually to avoid any legal conflicts and to ensure the business's continued legitimacy.

4. Color Mix Paint Center

We interviewed the business owner and found out about the struggles she had to endure in order to continue. Ms. Cabutan said that at first the company was making good sales and they thought it was wise to open another branch and so they did. However, over time, especially when the pandemic started, the sales reduced significantly. She had no other choice but to shut down the second branch and focused on the one branch only. I also realized that one of the causes of this was the location of the store. It was surrounded by many competitors and the store’s visibility was low for those in the road passing by. However, I would like to appreciate Ms. Tato for her strong determination as she is still running the business up to this day, despite all the challenges she faced just to stay in the market.

5. Jay-Q Grains Rice Trading

In the last interview, we also learned about the hardships they are currently facing regarding their products. In terms of documentation, they are in compliance with the city, having a business permit, as well as DTI and BIR certificates. However, in terms of their business, which involves selling rice, the sales are not very high. I believe this is partly due to the current high price of rice. Additionally, the limited variety of rice they offer may be another reason for the low sales, as some customers do not prefer the types of rice they sell. Moreover, there are many competitors in the area, which also contributes to the low sales.

[agere-ena]

hi hi hello hello!

This is my agere sideblog, my posts are... 99% Project Sekai, and 1% random other interests of mine! I did, in the past, do requests and stuff for media that's not PRSK, but I'm putting that on hold for now... Being multifandom is a lot to keep up with!!

Here's a little bit about me:

You can call me AC or Enanan, I don't mind which

I'm 20 years old and regress to 0-4 most times

Any pronouns

SUPER obsessed with Nightcord at 25:00, my faves :) More More Jump is a very close second

This isn't my main account! My main doesn't look very agere-related, so I try not to like or follow from it, so I don't startle anyone. But sometimes I forget! If you see this blog reblog your post, and then you see someone whose profile picture is a black-and-white MS paint drawing of a cat like it a second later, that's me!

I don't really have a set DNI or anything, I block as I see fit (which mostly means I block blogs that post exclusively NSFW, and not much else)!!

I try to tag things with an emoji (no specific one, just whatever I like atm) if I'm posting while regressed

Click here for an extended about, as well as rules for requests/asks and such

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Alpha Jungkook x Omega Oc!

Genre : Angst , Hurt/ Comfort.

    Chapter 1  ⋆  Chapter 2  ⋆  Chapter 3     Chapter 4  ⋆  Chapter 5   ⋆   

    Chapter 6   Chapter 7     Chapter 8

Summary : Nine months after her marriage ends, Kim Heejin is a reclusive artist, who works out of a renovated warehouse in Busan, her days and nights spent with canvas and paint. Its exactly what she’s ever wanted, to be left alone. And yet, that nagging feeling of incompletion keeps her on her toes. And perhaps, it is that longing for something substantial, something real that pushes her to give her flawed but lovable ex-husband another chance.

Chapter 9

 “I… No. Just… please tell him I’ll be down…I’ll come down to the lobby to meet him.” I said quickly, panicking at the idea of having him here. I’d barely been here a day but this was still my space. And if I had him here then his scent would just seep into every nook and corner. 

The room would smell like him then… And what would I do after he left?

God, what was I even thinking? Head swimming, I crawled to the edge of the bed and breathed shakily. 

It felt surreal, climbing out of the bed and moving to the vanity . I stared at myself in the mirror as I grabbed the makeup bag I kept with me all the time. Wide eyes and parted lips, creamy gold skin turning lily white because of how the blood had just drained after that phone call. 

I looked petrified .

Jungkook… I thought numbly. Jungkook’s waiting downstairs and I’m going to see him. 

What is he thinking.... What is he feeling... why is he even here? 

You’re not responsible for his emotions, Taehyung’s soothing voice in my head helped a bit but not a whole lot. What about my emotions, I though desperately, grabbing the tube of gloss and slowly uncapping it. I ran the end of it over my lips and felt my fingers tremble because I didn’t know why I felt this need …to look beautiful.

I didn’t need to, I though miserably. Everyone knew omegas were beautiful. Beta supermodels were beautiful yes but they couldn’t hold a candle to me, at least for someone like  Jungkook. He was an alpha, his brain was built to find me attractive. I had evolutionary genetics on my side, which mean that if I ever actually wanted to seduce Jungkook , he wouldn’t really stand a chance .

But I didn’t want that.

I had had enough of that. Enough of seeing handsome, rich alphas being reluctantly attracted to me. They made it obvious too. Most of the hate mail I got stemmed from angry wives or girlfriends accusing me of seducing their men , even though  I’d never so much as laid my eyes on them. It was so unfair. 

I didn’t enjoy watching them lose their minds at the sight and scent of me, because i knew that deep down,  they thought that all omegas were scum. 

Manipulative, sex driven , greedy and selfish . Those were the labels I got plastered with , on the media and on the streets. 

And Jungkook wasn’t different, I reminded myself firmly, pulling away from the mirror and grabbing the loose powder and dusting down some of it on the apple of my cheeks and down the length of my nose. 

He didn’t think any different than the others. Jungkook’s views on omegas were just as archaic and bigoted as everyone else’s .

He just didn’t act on them .

Sighing, I dropped the lipgloss back in the back and brushed my hair off my face. On a whim , I pulled off the hair tie holding the thick strands together, letting the wavy tresses fall over my shoulder. I hadn’t cut my hair in a long time and it felt to my hips now. My stylist was adamant that it added to my aesthetic.

  A primal siren, she had said staring at me in awe, like something eternal and beautifully dangerous. We’re lucky you seem incapable of hate, Heejin ...because I think you could bring grown men to their knees with that body and that face. 

I felt nauseous at the thought of it.   

Walking to the elevator felt like walking the plank and I had stop a couple of times, just to breathe deeply. I had to be smart about this. I was in therapy. Taehyung had taught me how to handle situations like this and while my heart was pounding too hard and my brain was too scrambled to use any of his therapy techniques, I still had some of my cognitive abilities intact. 

He came here, i thought desperately. 

He came looking for you and that means he isn’t nervous or worried or overthinking this because he doesn’t have feelings for you. If you want to come out of this  unscathed, you need to get your head on straight. You need to pretend that you didn’t just have a minor mental breakdown at the thought of him dating someone else. 

I took a deep breath, exhaling sharply before stepping into the elevator. The ride down to the lobby was barely a few seconds and when I stepped out, I realized the place was way too crowded for such an exclusive Hotel. And then I remembered that people were here for the Art Festival. I glanced at the reception desk, covertly, noting a conspicuous lack of Jeon Jungkook. The lady behind the desk held her hand up when she spotted me .

“Ms. Kim? Mr. Jeon just went to get you a drink...He’s over by the breakfast counter over there.” She pointed out the dining space where people were walking about getting breakfast and I swallowed, feeling hot and cold as I cautiously stepped into the crowd, trying to find a that familiar head of thick dark hair. 

I felt the apprehension build as I tugged on my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to reign in the chaos in my mind but it was impossible, everything too loud and too messy. I looked around and then, it hit me. 

His scent. 

I felt my lips part in surprise, and it felt like someone had turned the volume down , noises fading into a dull hum at the back of my mind as I stared at him. He hadn’t spotted me yet and I took a second to just....look.

He looked incredible.

There was really no other word for it. Incredibly handsome, Incredibly beautiful and so incredibly perfect as the late morning sun lit up the room, picking out the shine on his white silk shirt. I breathed in deep, my mindeasily picking out the musky pine scent of him and I stepped closer, moving straight towards him and I caught the exact moment my scent his senses.

He jerked a bit, nostrils flaring and eyes going wide before he turned, lips parted and gaze a bit unfocused as he looked around.

When he caught sight of me, he just blinked. 

I smiled weakly, body going limp with relief because.... because this was Jungkook. Not some monster I had to run from. This was Jungkook....even at his worst he had been better than some of the other people I’d met in life. 

I looked down at the drink in his hand and smiled a bit as he made his way over. 

“ This isn’t the same as buying me a coffee.” I said shakily as he finally stepped upto me.

His eyes danced with warmth. 

“What makes you think I can afford one? Besides, aren’t you the hotshot artist? Shouldn’t you be the one buying me stuff?” He said softly. 

“Just saw you on the front cover of a magazine. We both know you’re far from destitute..” Even through the smile, I felt the tug of emotion as I stared at him, felt the difference in him like night and day, the light and joy and ...contentment that seemed to radiate off him .

He smiled and held the drink out to me gently.

“ Heejin-ah.” He whispered. 

And somehow it was the sound of his voice, wrapping around the syllables of my name that finally did it. 

I felt the tears brim over, my lips parting in choked laughter as I stepped close and wrapped both my arms around him, burying my face in his neck and breathing him in. I felt him hold me, infinitely gentle and I exhaled sharply.

“I didn’t miss you,  at all.” I said shakily. He laughed lightly. 

“I missed you , too.” He stroked the back of my head gently and I sighed, fingers curling on the silk of his shirt. The fabric felt like liquid in my fingers and I played with it for a second, intensely aware that people were starting to stare. That this embrace had gone on for longer than social norms dictated but I couldn’t bring myself to care, letting my chin rest against his shoulder blades. 

And it was almost frightening.....how easy it was to pretend we weren’t broken at all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She was so small when I last held her... I can’t believe she’s running around.” I said, awed, listening to Jungkook tell me about how Mina liked to climb everywhere. He laughed, shaking his head. 

"She’s growing bigger everyday. I can barely keep up.” Jungkook smiled, holding a hand out for me to step over the wooden slats that lined the tiny archway that led to the door to his building. I hesitated before lightly gripping his hand in mine, the gesture somehow feeling more intimate that it was. 

“You’re not staying at the Firenze?” I asked curiously, resisting the urge to reach for his hand again when he let go.

it was such a ridiculous thing but I’d never held hands with him. And It felt ridiculously nice, to slot my fingers with his, feel them in between mine. His palm against mine, calloused but somehow so comforting. 

 I’d forgotten how warm he was.

 Don’t. Don’t fall down this rabbit hole again, Heejin. We talked about this. He doesn’t think of you that way. He doesn’t. And neither should you. its unfair to him. He doesn’t deserve that. 

“No... As you can see my apartment is barely ten minutes away and Soeun has her exams so its easier for her to watch over Mina here at the apartment.

“Soeun?” I asked curiously.

“Park Soeun? She’s a University student who lives with me. She’s doing a correspondence course in fashion . So she’s home all the time and she helps out with Mina. And she speaks Italian so that’s a huge plus... ” He smiled. “ you’ll like her. She’s a good kid.” 

 Don’t make that face. Don’t fucking make that face, Heejin.

I struggled to keep my face straight , like I wasn’t feeling the weight of a dozen bricks at the base of my stomach. 

“A roommate...then..?” I asked quietly and he shrugged.

“Something like that. But mostly she helps take care of Mina when I’m out on an assignment.” He smiled and led me past two flight of stairs up to the studio apartment. 

I wrapped my arms around myself as he stopped in front of a wrought iron grill, gripping one end and sliding it open with ease. And then he rang the small bell n the side. I shuffled back and forth on my foot, heart racing. 

The door opened and I blinked because of how young the girl who opened the door was. A second later she was beaming, moving forward and wrapping both her arms around me.

“Unnie!” She squealed, hugging me so close that I almost choked. Completely thrown I could only gape at Jungkook who was laughing . 

“Oh, I forgot to mention..she’s a bit of a fan. “ He teased lightly and I smiled awkwardly, watching as she pulled back to stare at me, her gaze trained on my face unblinkingly. 

“Whoa...” She reached out and lightly touched my cheek with her forefinger making me jump. She flinched as well, flushing red.

“Shit..sorry...I just... I’ve never... I’ve never met an omega before.” She said softly. “ You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

I felt my heart pound, steeping back instinctively, an overwhelming urge to hide , anxiety pooling in my stomach as she continued to stare at me. I hated the attention and I wrapped my arms around myself. 

“Soeun, enough. Don’t make it weird.” Jungkook said sternly, voice hard and the girl immediately flushed, bowing apologetically. 

“Sorry...I.. sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable ... You’re pretty.” She said again before turning to Jungkook.

“I have to get some stuff for my exhibit, Jungkook oppa... Mina’s asleep. i’ll be staying over at Vince’s place for the night though. Is that okay?”

“Sure..have fun.” Jungkook smiled, “ Vince is her boyfriend.” He explained and Soeun nodded happily. 

“Italian men are absolutely amazing unnie...you should try some.” She winked and I laughed despite myself.

“I just might...” I said with a grin, watching as she walked over to slip on a pair of sneakers from the small shoe closet near the door. She waved enthusiastically all but bouncing away and I blinked at him , shaking my head.

“I feel a hundred years old right now.” I said softly, still stunned by the girl’s exorbitant energy. Jungkook laughed at that

“She definitely has that effect on people... Come on, I’ll show you around.” He held his hand out and I smiled , taking his fingers mine and letting him tug me further into the studio apartment. 

I looked around, taking in the full blown prints of Mina and Jungkook , caught in adorable poses in front of different tourist spots in Florence. I saw how much she looked like Jungkook now, and how openly affectionate they looked together, the love evident even in the still photos. 

And then my eyes fell on a familiar painting , my stomach lurching. 

“You... “ i turned to him in a rush and he was staring at me with a small smile.

“I had to bring that. It pretty much saved me, that painting.” He said casually, stepping close and running his fingers all over the print. 

“When you told me this is how Sooah saw me...” He traced the picture carefully before glancing at me,” it made me realize that Sooah didn’t just want a baby.....she wanted a baby with  me. She saw me as a father. As someone who could raise and nurture a tiny human  and that... that’s amazing isn’t it?” He sighed, staring at me.  

He looked beautiful, I thought with an ache deep inside me. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life and it seemed almost too good to be true. That he was here, at reach. So close. I wondered if this was it. This had to be a sign. A sign that we’d come full circle. That it was over. That we could finally break free from all that we’d been through, and look back at Jungkook’s past with fondness instead of pain.

And perhaps, just perhaps I could reach out and touch him with something more than just the love you have for a friend. . Perhaps I could reach out and touch him, without feeling guilt and foreboding.

I exhaled shakily stepping up and running my fingers over the canvas. It was nothing fancy... Just a painting a painting of Jungkook holding Mina up by her waist, high over his head, staring up into her face with all the love and adoration in the world, The child in the painting doesn’t look exactly like Mina, of course, but I’d had no idea , seeing as Sooah had commissioned the painting when she was pregnant. But Jungkook.... Jungkook looked exactly like he did now : Happy and at peace. 

“You’re alright, then?” I asked quietly , a wealth of meaning behind the words and he smiled , nodding gently. 

“I’m fine…” He whispered , “ And I’m so glad I can tell you that, like this. Thank you for coming , Heejin-ah . I know you owe me nothing but.. I wanted to show you that… it wasn’t all bad you know. What we went through… Something good did come out of it.” He whispered.

I choked out a sob.

“I lied.” I whispered. “ I did miss you. Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened.

“I have a lot to be sorry for. But I don’t want to remind you of those things. I just want you to know that… I understand what you went through…those six months. I understand that it was difficult and painful and i… I’m grateful that you didn’t give up on me. And I’m grateful that you stayed in my life.  Because I know I didn’t deserve that.”

“You deserve to be loved Jungkook.” I said quietly. “ Its not wrong to move on. You deserve to… find happiness again.”

He stared at me, his gaze soft and gentle.

“I can almost believe it, when you say it that way.” He laughed. “ And… you know… I’m not sure if its love. But there’s someone I’ve been…. Well, I can sort of see myself with her. .” He grinned a little, smile boyish as he ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at me and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Wait… was he going to?....

“ I met her at Taehyung’s practice, a year ago. Her name is Lee Hyorin.” Jungkook looked at me, doe eyes shining with excitement.

And just like that the world ended.

Or so it felt.

It was like being dipped in icy cold water, the shock of it rendering me speechless, lips parted and breath catching in lungs.

Blood rushed through my ears, so fast that I felt lightheaded, my legs nearly giving out. White noise filled my skull, pain lancing sharp through my heart like a thousand paper cuts, and I couldn’t really breathe. It took a few seconds…. For my heart to catch up with what my mind had just processed. And when it finally did, the pain was so excruciating, I had to clench my fists, nails digging into the flesh of my palm to ground myself.

“She’s an alpha…and she lost her husband around the same time Sooah passed..” Jungkook gave me a soft smile. “ She’s actually a curator at one of the museums here. She’s the one who made all the arrangements for me to move here to Florence. ”

“Wow… That’s…” devastating,. “ That’s good news. Jungkook.. I.. How long…” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow. “ How long have you guys been dating?”

“About three months now. We’re taking it very slow, because we aren’t really ready. She has a son too. He’s three years old. Mina loves him so that’s a plus.” He laughed.

My lungs constricted, breathing difficult and my head swam because ….. what. Realization set in so quickly, I was left reeling. I was in love with this bastard, I thought miserably. So in love with him that it felt like he was shredding my heart into ribbons. Every word of his mouth felt like a sharp deep stab, straight through the center of my heart and the pulsing, beating organ was on the verge of giving out.

“She’s going to be there at the dinner tonight at the Festival. She’s one of the organizers by the way. She’s kind of the reason I got in, I think.” He laughed , looking abashed and what a load of bull that was. Jungkook was successful and well known. Superbly talented at his chosen field. She was lucky to have him.

How can she have him when I’m the one who fixed him? How is that fucking fair?

“She really understands the things I’ve been going through, the past few months and because we both still attend therapy with Taehyung, we’re able to talk about a lot of stuff. Stuff I can’t share with others…” Jungkook was saying and I tuned him out, not wanting to hear another word.

I swallowed, choking on bile. I could feel sweat gathering on my scalp, my skin clammy and damp , the air between us shifting into something poisonous and filled with so much dismay, it was a miracle he hadn’t picked up on it.

Couldn’t he sense how distressed I was? Couldn’t he see how his words were hurting? Couldn’t he fucking see that I couldn’t live without him? Why on earth couldn’t he see me the way he apparently saw every other woman on the damn planet…..

Because he’s a shitty Alpha, I thought miserably, willing myself not to burst into tears. He was a shitty excuse for an alpha back then and he’s the same now.

A low, distressed cry began somewhere behind him and he jumped.

“Oh, shit she’s up… come on, Heejin.” He said with a bright smile, turning around and rushing down a small hallway and I willed myself to breathe in deeply, reminding myself that this wasn’t the end of the world. I could get through this. Besides, it was Mina.

Beautiful, perfect Mina who had been there for me. She would see me and she would give me that sweet gummy smile of hers, does eyes twinkling and I would get through this. Because her smile was what was important. Her smile and her joy and her happiness.

The sobbing had slowed down to small hiccups and I stepped past the threshold cautiously, watching as Jungkook bent over the large crib, carefully lifting her out and into his arms. She looked breathtaking, an absolutely gorgeous little girl . I stared, mesmerized as I stepped closer. My arms ached, and my chest tightened. Lips wobbling, I exhaled sharply, moving to reach for her.

She turned to glance at me and just as my fingers brushed her cheek, she recoiled.

Hard.

A loud wail tore through her tiny body and I felt my eyes go wide. Her casual little cry had turned into a sobbing , loud wail and I could smell the distress in her , the fear and distrust as she curled away from me.  Jungkook looked stunned as well, instinctively drawing her close and embracing her, moving away from me because….

Because I was the reason, she was distressed.  

My skin went ice cold at the revelation and I stumbled back, stunned.

“I… I’m sorry.” I choked out, confused and disoriented. Jungkook looked stricken, gently rocking her back and forth and she clung to him, gripping his shirt and I bit my lips, moving further back and I glanced at him, my heart shattering.

“She’s …She’s still sleepy… She doesn’t do well with strangers…” He said softly, looking upset, “ Maybe you could…wait outside…”

Stranger…. Was that what I was?

“I… I’ll go. I’ll just go.” I turned on my heel, rushing out of the door and struggling to breathe in air, my heart clenching so hard I was sure I was going to pass out. I felt my knees give out when I reached the couch, dropping down and drawing my knees up , wrapping my arms around my legs . I didn’t know how long I sat there, fighting sobs and choking on air…and when I finally came to myself, the sobs from the room had died out.

“She’s fallen asleep again.” Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence and I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I felt him move closer, felt his scent hit me as he stepped right up to me, kneeling on the floor in front of me.

I looked up at him, lips wobbling as I took in his handsome face.  A face that was so deeply carved into my heart and my soul, I couldn’t imagine living without it. Without him. The tears came then, helpless and endless and so painful.

He pressed in closer, cupping my face in his palms, thumb brushing the tears that spilled over so relentlessly.

“Heejin…” He whispered and I let my fingers curl around his wrist as his thumb kept brushing the curve of my cheeks. I took a deep , shaky breath .

“She doesn’t remember me….  “ I whispered, “ She doesn’t recognize me at all…She hates me……” I choked out , despair filling every last crevice of my insides, gut twisting as I remembered how Mina had twisted away from me, how her scent had soured in distress at the sight of me, at the touch of my fingers.

 And I wondered if it was different with this other woman..Hyorin, wasn’t it? Did Mina climb into her arms with ease? Did she curl into her chest and sleep? The way she used to with me,  when she was a month old and missing the warmth of a mother.. ….

All those nights spent in that tiny nursery, lying on the cold unforgiving floor, watching the rise and fall of Mina’s chest through the dark room…telling myself it was worth it… it was worth being touched against my will, worth being treated like filth by a man driven mad with grief and anger….all because of this baby…this tiny little baby who had needed me….

And now…she didn’t even know who I was…..worse…she was repulsed by the very sight of me… I couldn’t cope.

“Look at me…” Jungkook rasped, voice raw and cracking. “she doesn’t hate you, Heejin… she just … you feel new to her… different…” 

I shook my head, unable to think about anything beyond the sheer devastation that filled me, the way his daughter had pulled away and run, had refused to come anywhere near me. I realized with lancing pain that I’d wanted to see her, way more than I’d wanted to see Jungkook .

Because she was the reason I’d hung on for so long in that marriage which had been the biggest fucking mistake of my life…. the only reason I’d stuck around . Mina …Having her in my arms, her scent against my face, that had been the only genuine happiness I’d experienced  in a marriage filled with sheer , unending misery. 

“I… she… Why doesn’t she remember? “ I breathed, sagging into his arms, tears soaking his shoulders and his palm ran up and down my back.

“Because she was a baby. Heejin…. I left when she was a baby…”

“Why did you?” I snapped. “ Did it hurt you so much? The thought of living under the same sky as me ? Why you did you go?” I demanded.

Jungkook pulled back, hands coming up to grip my shoulder, holding me at arms length.

“Look at me.” He whispered. “ I had to … You know I had to go….I was hurting you. I was… I was draining you of life. Destroying you… “

Jungkook’s words reminded me of who he was. Of who I was… Of who I was to him.

I choked out, sobbing.

“I hate you. You treated me like scum. Like a crutch….. Like some sort of tool to get better and you just left… you…”

You found someone better. You broke me down and now you’ve gone and found someone better….because I was never good enough for you… I was never someone you could love….

“I had to let you go. I had to end that relationship because it was tainted with so much grief and anger and selfishness and greed. I knew that anything I did afterwards would be tainted by my actions… I… I had to make amends, Heejin. And do you think for a second, that it wasn’t the hardest thing I ever did? That walking out on you wasn’t one of the most devastating things I’ve ever experienced? But I did it for us… for this…” 

I stared at him.

“And what is this?” I asked brokenly.

“This is me, being able to touch you like this.” Jungkook pressed a palm to my cheek, “ And not feeling guilt or sadness or grief or loss.  I did it so we could have this…this… This thing where I can look at you and hold you and see that you’re healing. That you’re doing better… That you’re living the life you want…. That you’re happy. This is me standing here , in front of you and smiling because I’m happy too. Happy that you’re here.  ” He exhaled, “ I’m happy that despite all the hurt we’ve been through for and because of each other, I can look at you now and tell you, honestly, that I’m glad to see you.” 

What a joke.. What a fucking joke.

I smiled shakily.

“Well… “ I said softly, my stomach churning because I was done. Done with him and mostly with myself. “ Isn’t that absolutely wonderful.”

His gaze softened and he smiled.

“I want us to be friends, Heejinah. Even though we don’t see or talk to each other, I think of you often. And when Mina’s old enough to understand , I’ll tell her all about you… I want you in our lives. You’re a friend. ”

I stared at him , feeling the words echo in my skull . It left an acrid taste on my senses, the way he put me into this neat little box, friend. So ….insignificant. Everyone had hundreds of friends. There was nothing even remotely special about being someone’s friend.

Friend just meant replaceable and forgettable. And just like Mina didn’t remember me…. Someday Jungkook wouldn’t either. The knowledge filled my veins spreading all over my body and leaving a fierce, heavy ache in my chest.

It was my fault, I thought despondently. My fault because I had been an idiot.

Jungkook was the sane one here , I thought miserably. These nine months, while I’d been dwelling on him and worrying for him…he had done the healthy thing , by moving on with someone he could actually envision a future with….

What had I done, these past nine months? Dreamt up a fantasy world where somehow we found our way back to each other and built a life together… It seemed so foolish now, in the light of Jungkook’s words and his confession….

Jungkook had done all of this, not for me…but for himself. For his daughter whom he loved and for his wife , whose memory he wanted to honor. And perhaps it was my own delusion that made me think that I’d played some stellar role in his healing…. Maybe if I hadn’t been there, he would have gotten better just the same…. Maybe I hadn’t been a tool …as much as a hindrance …to his healing.

I shook my head, bitterness coating my tongue.

“I should get going.” I whispered , voice shaking.

This is it, I told myself. This is the last time you look at him with that heaviness in your heart. You deserve better. You deserve… a lot of things. And just because people don’t give it to you doesn’t mean you have to settle for less……

“So soon? Hyorin will be back in a couple of hours… I could show you some of my work, and we could get lunch ….”

I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want to meet her in his home. Didn’t want to see him being domestic and affectionate and …normal with her when all I’d ever seen was Jungkook in his anger and grief, either yelling abuses or gripping me with a lust that was tainted with violence and rage. I stared at his hands, the ones I’d liked holding….

How did I forget? That those were the same hands that had held me down and done things that should, rightfully have landed him in prison?

I shook my head, to clear the images out of my head. Looking at him now,  Jungkook looked eager, happy and healed. And I realized that he’d just pushed all of his own actions out of his mind. Forgotten all about it. And that was fair. He probably didn’t even remember any of it. He had been drunk out of his mind, lost in his head and surely, forgetting must’ve been easy… A relief.

I didn’t begrudge him that.

But…

I hadn’t been drunk. I’d been stone cold sober under him on that bed and so, maybe forgetting didn’t come that easily for me. And I was glad that Jungkook could move on and be happy but….

But I couldn’t stay here and pretend that it was the same for me. I wasn’t happy or healed, I thought miserably. And maybe , maybe the sight of him moving on was a sign that I had to stop thinking that healing meant going back to him and his daughter.

“Heejin… What’s wrong? Is it because of Mina.. she’s just not used to…” He began but I quickly pressed a palm to his chest, smiling.

“Strangers.” I said softly. “ I know. That’s not it… You know I have to introduce my exhibit at dinner tonight. I don’t know what the itinerary is or what I’m supposed to say…. None of it.. I need to meet my agent and prep myself a bit. Its alright…I’ll see you tonight.” I said softly.

“I’m sorry… I can’t walk you back because Mina-“

“Of course. Don’t worry about it…. I’ll just…”

The doorbell rang, startling me.

“Jungkook!” A strong voice called out and I went still.

“Hyorin?” Jungkook’s face lit up and I felt my stomach churn. God, the universe really was against me wasn’t it? Sighing in defeat, I wrapped my arms around myself, sitting back down on the couch and waiting.

Behind me , I could hear hushed whispers, soft laughter and shuffling feet. My mouth went dry.

“Ms. Kim….”

I turned around, greeted by the sight of a tall, strapping young woman, pretty by any standards. She was dressed in a pant suit , her hair long and straight, hitting the top of her shoulders. She looked smart… Important.

“Ms. Lee… Its nice to meet you.”

She held her hand out and I shook it gently.  Jungkook smiled at her fondly and his phone rang from somewhere inside the studio.

“Hang on that’s probably Soeun…” He smiled at me and moved away and I watched him leave before shifting my gaze to Hyorin, who was staring down at me with a small smile.

“Are you here in Italy by yourself? Or with one of your many …uh… patrons ?” She smirked.

I blinked.

“Patrons?” I asked softly. “ Excuse me?”

“Jungkook and I’ve been following all the stories about you, back in Korea. You get around quite a lot… don’t you? Every alpha within a 100 mile radius wants a piece of the lovely Kim Heejin… And honestly, could anyone blame them? You look exquisite.”

I stared at her, stunned. The implication was so obvious that I would be an idiot not to realize what she was hinting at. So this was the woman , Jungkook chose? Yet another prejudiced bigot?

I laughed a bit, feeling my heart sink.

“I’m not seeing anyone. If that’s what you’re asking.” I said quietly.

Hyorin smirked at that.

“Of course you aren’t… We all know that isn’t really something your kind does… monogamy, right?”

“Do you have a problem with me Hyorin ssi?” I asked roughly and she laughed.

“Oh come on.. we’re all adults, here. And Heejin, you  agreed to be a part of this festival, knowing full well, that’s what we think . Its because deep down you know I’m right….. Omegas can’t stay with one alpha. They need sex to survive and they are usually open to it with anyone. Not that I’m blaming you or judging you for it. It’s just how you’re built.”

I smiled wide, ignoring the urge to claw at her face. .

“Well, you’ve definitely got me all figured out haven’t you? “ I shook my head, glancing at Jungkook who was making his way over.

“What are you talking about?” He asked curiously and I smiled, glancing at her.

“ Hyorin ssi was just telling me how my sub gender makes it impossible for me to not go around whoring with every alpha I see…….” I glanced at him and Jungkook straightened, looking stunned, “ Well, I hope you two enjoy your beautiful monogamous relationship with each other something an omega like me can only fantasize about…. Right Jungkook?” I smiled and he looked completely lost.

“Wait…What? Hyorin what did you say?” He demanded and she was glaring at me now.

“Please don’t take it personally, I was only talking about omegas in general. “ Hyorin frowned, before bowing and moving away to stalk off in the direction of the bedrooms and I watched her, feeling dirty and terrible.

“Heejin, ignore her.. she’s just old fashioned and-“

“Is that what you’re going to call it?” I snapped and Jungkook froze.

“Heejin…”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“I’m not upset about what she said. I’m upset that she feels comfortable enough, spouting that bullshit to me , in your house. Makes me wonder what else she’s told you about omegas, and how much of it you probably agreed with.”

Jungkook stared at me , lips parted.

“I… I don’t feel that way. You know that.” He said stiltedly.

“Do I? All I know is that she knows about me, about who I am and apparently, she can call me a slut…. In front of you, without worrying about it upsetting you. And that tells me you’re as much of a bigot as she is.”

“Heejin… You know that’s not it. We all grow up being fed certain things and –“

“But you did grow up right?” I snapped. “ you grew up and you can think and act for yourself. As can she. Once you’re an adult, you don’t have a single fucking excuse for being racist or homophobic or bigoted because being an adult means having the ability to unlearn the toxic things you’ve been taught and relearn how to be a decent fucking human.”

I shook my head as he stared at me.

“And you know what…please just… just don’t call me or consider me as a friend.” I laughed. “ Because I don’t think I can consider you one. Not anymore. You can’t…...You can’t just love certain parts of me and be disgusted by others you know? I don’t need a friend who can care about me and love me and help me as long as he can forget that I’m an omega….. I need a friend who can love every jagged, broken , part of me. Who can call out people who talk bullshit at me , who can look someone in the eye and tell them they’re wrong when they’re calling me names  and that’s not who you are……. You’re not it.” I snapped.

Jungkook looked stricken, reaching out to hold me and I stepped away, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Heejin, you’re right … I’ll talk to her… I’ll…” He began but I shook my head.

“Whatever.  Just don’t call me a friend. We can’t be friends. Let’s just be what we always were , yeah? A big fucking mistake that never should have happened.”

I stormed out of the door, shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean, there are no flights available for today?” I snapped. “Tell them money isn’t an issue. I need to get out of this place right now.”

Minho looked incredibly stricken, hair messy from how often he’d run his fingers through.

“ We just arrived seven hours ago, Hee. Of course there’s no flight yet…. We can stay another day…attend the dinner and-“

“No.” I snapped. “ Absolutely not. I’m not here because they find my art good  or worth putting up. I’m here because they know the alphas around here will want to pay more , to pour in more cash for a chance with me.” I held the embossed booklet up, waving it in his face.

“Heejin…” He protested but I shook my head.

“ Did you see the cost to get into my pane ?. Extra ….for alphas? And yet…apparently they had to pre book it and its filled? You think any of the lecherous bastards who paid money to see me , gives a shit about my art?  And apparently, there’s a meet and greet, for alphas only if they purchase seven or more paintings worth over 10000 Euros. Do you think, that’s what I’m worth?”

Minho looked down at his shoes, ashamed.

“I .. I’m sorry, Hee. You’re right. Its offensive . And an insult to your art and talent. We shouldn’t have come here, you’re right. And I regret it… But just… give me a few hours, yeah? I’ll find a way to get us out of here….”

I exhaled sharply, exhaustion weighing heavy on my head. I felt like I’d taken a pounding, physically and mentally and I wondered how a day that had started so well, could go so wrong, so fast…

Shaking my head, I trudged wearily to the elevator, knocking on the buttons before sagging against the wall, letting my eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook was dating.

Jungkook was dating. His girlfriend thought I was a slut and here I was about to prove her right.

I wanted to slit someone’s throat.

Sighing, I watched the door slide open, grabbing my keys out of my bag,  and moving to the suite. I opened the door before making a beeline for the bed. I collapsed on the soft duvet, groaning. I was torn between wanting to call Taehyung to yell at him about Jungkook and calling Minho to demand an update on the flights.

I was spared the dilemma when the phone in the room rang. Groaning, I moved to swat at the phone, turning on the speaker.

“Ms. Kim? There’s a Mr. Jeon here to see you?”

I blinked, feeling disbelief swell inside me. Did he not get the hint?

Annoyed, I sat up.

“Send him up.” I said, in no mood to go all the way down to see him.

“Up?” She sounded surprised, “ To your room?”

“Yes. To my room. Is that a fucking problem?” I growled, annoyed.

“Not at all Ms. Kim. He’ll be right up.”

I got out of bed, shrugging off my jacket and taking off my dress as well. It was a little damp because I’d sweated through the fabric. I grabbed one of my oversized t shirts , slipping it on and moving to open the door before retreating back to the inner room. Feeling annoyed, I walked up to the vanity and grabbed the hair brush, running the bristles through my locks. I heard his footsteps outside and stiffened.

“If you’re here to defend your shitty girlfriend, you can just leave Jungkook. I swear to God, I’ve had enough of this.” I shouted. He didn’t reply and my hackles rose.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I said something harsh-“ I froze when I reached the doorway, staring at the man in front of me. He had a large , almost humongous bouquet of wild orchids and roses in his hand and I stared at his face.  

This was definitely not Jungkook.

“Umm… hi.” The man bowed awkwardly, his gaze going straight to my legs, where my t shirt ended, just a couple of inches past my waist. I felt the blood rush to my face.

“Who are you…Get out !!!” I shouted, horrified, diving for my jacket and holding it up against my bare thighs. The man held both his hands up, eyes wide..

“I’m sorry… I… you said I could come up to your room….” He protested and I scowled, confused.

“What? “ I stared, stunned… “ Who…what?”

“I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. I’m uh….one of the sponsors for this festival. And a fan. Huge fan.” He was staring at me beseechingly and I felt my head begin to throb.

The sheer relentlessness of this day…..

“I… Mr. Jeon…” So weird, God, “ There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not…. I thought you were someone else.”

“Jungkook yes…your ex husband, right? You were married to him for six months after he lost his wife….. He’s also one of the artists exhibiting their work here.” He nodded quickly, running long fingers through thick glossy hair, lips parting in a hesitant smile and I stared at him.

“How do you know all that? ” I demanded, heart pounding. He immediately held his hands up again.

“I’m sorry… I sound like a stalker, shit. But Trust me I’m not. I just am a huge fan.. I looked up some stuff about you….before.” He shuffled a bit awkwardly, finally looking up at me.

I tried to catch his scent. No scent to speak of. A beta then. Relaxing just a bit, I swallowed. At least I wasn’t in any immediate danger. But still, I had no intention of letting him see me in nothing but a t shirt. Embarrassed, I gripped the jacket tighter.

“Why are you here?” I demanded angrily, taking in his appearance. He didn’t look like a hoodlum or someone dangerous. He was good looking, dressed in a white t shirt and black Jacket over plain black slacks. His shoes looked expensive and I didn’t miss the shiny Rolex on his wrist either,.

“Well, for one thing I own the Hotel.” He chuckled and that made my stomach turn. “And also like I said, I’m one of the main sponsors for the Festival itself.”

“Right.” I was too disoriented to process this, head throbbing. “Of course. Is there a reason why you wanted to see me?”

“I was downstairs…just now… I couldn’t help but overhear you with your agent. You wanted to leave as soon as possible. To pull out of the event and I’m just here to try and change your mind, Ms. Kim.” He smiled earnestly and I realized he was really quite young.

I sighed.

“Could you… Could you wait outside? I want to put some clothes on before we talk any further.” I said tiredly and he bowed quickly.

“Uh… These…I’ll just leave these here.” He placed the large bunch of flowers on the table before quickly leaving the room and I swore, racing to the suitcase in the corner. I quickly grabbed a pair of jeans, slipping them on hastily and zipping myself up before glancing at the mirror again. This would have to do.

I moved to the door and opened it, finding him right there, looking lost.

“I… come in, please.” I said hesitantly and he bowed again, moving in and waiting for me to close the door and take a seat on the couch, before sinking into an arm chair across from me.

“Did you see the itinerary? It doesn’t get more sexualized than this.” I waved the booklet and he flushed.

“I understand you’re upset about … certain things. I’m sorry that you feel objectified , in the festival. It wasn’t the intention I had when I first told Hyorin and the others that I wanted them to invite you. But , I’ve been busy the past month, and I didn’t go over the complete agenda. If I did, I definitely would have made sure that you were treated with just as much respect as the others. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do now, but I’ve had a word with all of the panelists and also the hosts. We won’t entertain any question or comments of a sexual nature and if anyone tries to insinuate anything , I’ll have them removed from the panel myself. “ He said firmly.

“I’m only here because you told me you would exhibit my mother’s works too.” I said sharply and he bowed.

“ Your mother’s works are just as exquisite and I’ve arranged for them to be displayed right at the center of the arena, with a running slide show of her childhood , her art technique and the great love she had for her daughter.” He said firmly.

I could only stare. He sounded incredibly sincere and there was no mistaking the earnestness in his tone.

“I’m….” I bit my lips, “  Listen, Mr. Jeon, I’m flattered but honestly, I never wanted to be here. I… there was … something else that made me want to come and well, that turned out to be a huge mistake. To be honest, I’m not sure if I have it in me to suffer through days of people treating me like I’m some kind of sex crazed bimbo.” I shook my head.

“how about this.? You let me be your date for tonight and you let me display your work, today at the dinner itself. I’ll be right by your side. And then, I’ll have my private jet on standby and we can fly back to Korea. You deserve the spotlight, Heejin and I want people to see how good you are at what you do. I don’t care if I lose money over this… As long as you’re comfortable. ”

I gawked at him, stunned.

“Private Jet?” I choked out. “ Okay, now I’m genuinely concerned.”

He laughed.

“I’m a Hotelier, and I have properties all over the world and I like to inspect them personally most of the time. Its more practical to have a private jet than to try and align my schedules with everyone else.” He smiled.

“Right. Convenient.” I shook my head. “ I’m no stranger to excessive wealth, Mr. Jeon and trust me, it’s always left a  sour taste in my mouth.”

“I don’t flaunt my wealth, Ms. Kim. These clothes? Got them on the streets of Florence. I drive a Mazda. Wealth has no meaning to me. People do. People like you, who bring beauty into the world with their craft. You’ve made my world beautiful and I just want to repay , in some way.” He smiled,  “ Also,  You’re very  beautiful.” He added and then immediately looked away. “ I’m sorry. That was… dumb . I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

Endeared against my own wishes, I found myself fighting a small smile.

“Just tonight’s dinner?” I asked quietly.

“Just the dinner party.” He assured me quickly.

“Alright. But I’m not getting into any private Jet. My agent will book me tickets and I’ll find my way back to Korea.”

“As you wish. I’ll pick you up at seven. What color is your dress?” He asked casually and I blinked.

“Uh… Wine red? I guess? Why?”

He grinned, looking boyishly handsome.

“I’ll see you at seven, Ms. Kim.”

He bowed, before pausing by the bouquet. He grabbed a couple of  flowers, holding them up for me to see.  

“Daffodils and Lilacs.” He grinned, “ To finding something new to love. And to new beginnings.”

Wow.

Subtle.

I shook my head, momentarily forgetting all about Jungkook as I grinned all the way back to the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I told you… coming with me will earn you major points.” Wonwoo smirked as he pulled me in by my waist , holding my dress up for me as I stared at the sleek black limousine at the Hotel entrance. I watched as he held my wrist gently, latching a string of sterling silver and red rubies around the delicate curve of it.

“This is too lavish…I don’t want this…Who are you?” I demanded, flushing because of the way the flashes went off in every direction, reporters scrambling when they caught sight of him. He was clearly popular, if the number of photos being clicked were any indication. I regretted everything.

Wonwoo pressed a kiss to my wrists, right near the bracelet and gently placed my palm on the curve of his elbow, leading me over to the car and I watched the chauffeur open the door for us.  

“ Someone who can get anyone here fired. Be careful , sweetheart.” I watched in mute horror as he bent low, picking up the hem of my skirt so I wouldn’t trip, while climbing into the limousine. The reporters began whispering excitedly and more flashes went off . My face completely red, I hastened to climb in.

“These people look at you like you’re some kind of King.” I stared out of the tinted windows seeing the sheer multitude of people and Wonwoo chuckled.

“ That’s because I am. At least for tonight. And that’s why I’m the perfect guy to protect you Heejin. They’re all terrified of me.” He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook found me, fifteen minutes into the event. I hung by the large archway, near an alcove, sipping champagne and nibbling on some hors d’oeuvre as people threw glances at me. I noticed the conspicuous lack of a date on his arm and straightened, sighing and bracing myself for more unpleasantness as he picked his way through the crowd, eyes trained on me.

“Can we talk?” He said, the minute he was at hearing distance and I exhaled.

“No.” I said casually and he made a noise of impatience.

“Fucking, hell Heejin..just…” He swore again, looking upset. “ Why are you doing this to me? What do you want from me huh?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“What do I want from you? Oh, fuck off Jungkook. I want nothing from you.” I snapped, turning on my heel, ready to leave but his hand shot out, gripping me right above my elbow, fingers curling in hard.

“Fuck.. listen. I don’t know what she said to you. I .. I’m sorry if she offended you…. Alright? She’s an alpha… I can’t change the way she thinks…”

“I didn’t ask you to. I merely said that if you associate yourself with people who think I’m scum, I won’t let you into my life. Because I respect myself too much for that.” I said firmly.

“She doesn’t think you’re scum, Heejin come on. She just has some misconceptions about certain things.”

“God, Jungkook…just stop. Alright? Stop. Because I’m not asking you do anything. I’m leaving on a flight tomorrow morning and you’ll never see me again. That’s all there is to it.”

He froze at that, fingers curling harder around my arm and it hurt, the skin turning red. Stupid fucker, never knew his own strength.

“Ow, Jungkook let go.” I whispered, and he did, albeit reluctantly.

I rubbed at the bruised skin, furious. I watched as the redness healed over, the pain fading to a throb and then into a pleasant heat and I hated it. Hated that being an omega meant that Jungkook’s rough touch turned to pleasure on my skin.

“What do you mean you’re leaving tomorrow? The Festival is for two weeks.”

I sighed.

“I didn’t come here for the festival. I came here to see you. To see if you were as hung up on me as I was on you…but apparently not.” I snapped.

Jungkook went perfectly still at that.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He said softly and I laughed, shaking my head.

“Wow. You really never even considered it huh? Us? Together.?” It wasn’t funny at all, but I could only laugh. Probably because I’d been so sure.. So certain that there was something there.

He opened his mouth to answer but I felt a warm solidness behind me, an arm wrapping around my waist and a second later, Wonwoo was there pressing up against me.

“Jungkook-ssi… Such a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out, and Jungkook frowned, his eyes trained on where wonwoo’s fingers curled around my waist.

“Get your hands off her.” He said shortly and Wonwoo blinked, pulling away from me and stepping back .

“What the-? No. Fuck you.” I snapped, glaring at Jungkook before grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and bringing it back around me. “Don’t you fucking dare take your hands off.” I held my finger up at his face and Wonwoo looked momentarily stunned.

“Really, Heejin? You’re doing this?” Jungkook glared at me. “ We need to talk.”

“So talk.” I snapped. “ Tell me why you think a bigoted bitch is the best you can do in terms of dating. Tell me why she’s the only one who can ‘ understand’ “ I made air quotes, shaking my head, “ You think you and your shitty have monopoly on grief Jungkook? I’ve lost people too. Just because I haven’t screwed other people over because of it, doesn’t make my grief invalid….yeah.”

Ringing silence followed and I regretted everything.

“Fuck.” I whispered, shaking my head. “ I .. Shit. I need to get out of here.”

I pulled away from Wonwoo, moving out of the huge ballroom and Jungkook was right behind me, of course he was.

“Heejin…fuck. Wait. You’re right. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t understand me. Of course you did. Its why you stuck around… I know that. And you’re right, she had no business talking about you like that. I’ll have a word with her… But…”

I sped up, wanting to get away but he grabbed me again, tugging me closer out of the hall way and into a darkened alcove and I flinched when he pushed me up against the wall, caging me in, as he pressed in closer.

“What did you mean by that?” He demanded, hands coming up to grip my waist, curling gently and my chest heaved at the touch of him, the enclosed space making his scent turn potent, strong and impossible to avoid. My nostril flared as I breathed him in, familiar and yet so foreign, comforting and yet so fucking dangerous.

“By what?” I snapped and his hands moved up, shaping the curves of my body , thumb grazing the tip of my breast and making me jump, before moving up, gripping my face, gently. He pressed his thumb into my lower lip, rubbing back and forth, face impossibly close and I swallowed, throat sandpaper dry.

“About us? Together….” He breathed and I exhaled shakily.

“You know what I meant.” I whispered. “ If you don’t then I can’t explain it.” I whispered and he swore, head dropping against mine, forehead resting against mine, and lips less than a hairsbreadth away.

We’ve never kissed, I thought suddenly. I licked my lips, turning my face away but his fingers gripped my chin at once, yanking me around to stare at him again.

“Look at me, baby. Tell me… You thought about us together?” He whispered .

I breathed shakily.

“Of course I did…. “ I snapped.

“Then clearly therapy isn’t working for you.” He snapped right back and I flinched.

“What-“

Jungkook pulled away staring at me.

“ Do you even remember all the shit I did to you?” He asked quietly. My stomach dropped.

“Jungkook.”

“I broke your ribs.” He said calmly. I swallowed.

“That.. That was an accident. You didn’t mean to.” I protested. “ And we’re past all that… I don’t… I don’t blame you for it.” I said, which was honest enough.

“And what about the nights I got drunk, Heejin….” He said softly and my skin went cold.

“That… That was just… It was just an outlet for your grief… “ I looked away and he scoffed.

“You’re calling it an outlet for grief. I believe the world calls it rape.”

I felt my entire body shiver at the word , moving up to wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him close but he was stiff as a board.

“ Don’t” I snapped. “ Don’t …. Its over…it’s in the past.”

“It was still me. I was the one who did it and I can’t… I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

I pulled away to glare at him.

“So , what? You won’t give us a chance because of something I’ve already forgiven you for?”

“Yes.” He said shortly. “ Because you may have forgiven me, but I haven’t forgiven myself.”

I felt my body sag in disbelief.

“Jungkook that’s-“

“You deserve better. You always have. I’m not… I don’t deserve someone like you Heejin. You’re kind and breathtaking and I’m just… a broken mess of a man who’s barely getting by.”

“Oh, right… So broken.” I scoffed. “ You’re on the front page of magazines, you have a successful career and a beautiful girlfriend,,,,forgive me if I’m not breaking my heart over your failures.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily before looking up at me.

“  You wanna know the truth about me, Heejin-ah?” He swallowed. “ I just got out of rehab last week.”

I went still.

“What?” I was sure I’d misheard.

“I… I came here and about a month or so in…I started drinking again…” He glanced away and my heart turned over inside me.

“Jungkook, what?” I demanded, horrified.

“I got drunk and got into an argument with a cop. I hit him. They found out I was a single father and-“ He shook his head, “ I got arrested for disorderly conduct , Public intoxication and assault.”

I stared at him in disbelief, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone.

“ Arrested for assault... Jungkook why?” I breathed and he flushed.

“I know…. It was stupid.. I… I was stupid.” He said softly.  “Soeun isn’t a baby sitter. She’s a social worker. She’s here to keep an eye on me because they want to make sure I’m not a threat to Mina. If I slip up, they’ll deport me back home and then the state will likely take her away from me. Soeun likes me….so she agreed to lie to you ……And as for the girlfriend…” He laughed, shaking his head, “ Hyorin broke up with me after I got arrested. We’re not… We’re not dating. She was only there to get some prints for the panel tomorrow.” He finished shakily.

I stared at him.

“Why?” I demanded . “ Why would you lie to me… Jungkook ….”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was a screw up.” He said shakily. “ I know I’m supposed to be getting better and I have but… But sometimes I just…I miss…. I miss home. “ He shuddered. “ And you.”  He looked up at me. “ I miss you a lot, Heejin and it hurts and I feel like the only way I can forget about you…about us together is if I drink. And I’m sorry. I know I don’t have the right to miss you, not after everything I put you through but I… it’s how I feel. ” He glanced away, trembling a little.

I wrapped my arms around myself, stepping away, feeling myself go cold.

We stayed quiet for a few seconds, both of us staring at the floor lost in our own thoughts. I felt drained. Miserably so. Like someone had sucked all the strength out of me. I realized how badly I had wanted Jungkook to be okay. To heal and be himself again. And I’d spent the last nine months, fully convinced that he was. That he was doing what he loved, bonding with his daughter building a life for himself.

But apparently, he was also spiraling back into addiction as well.

It was like we were back in that apartment, both of us miserable  but desperate to be something we clearly were not : Okay.

“Does Taehyung know?” I asked finally and Jungkook hesitated before nodding.

“He was at my court hearing three weeks ago. He’s the reason I haven’t already lost her.” Jungkook whispered.

“What did he say?”

“He thinks I should come back to Korea.” Jungkook said quietly. “ He wants me to start therapy again with him. Every week. “

I nodded.

“Fair enough. And what do you think?”

“I think I will. My probation ends in three days. I’ll… I’ll start making arrangements afterwards. I’ll probably be back in a few weeks time. ”

I stared at him, finally seeing the things I hadn’t noticed this morning. The shadows beneath his eyes, the worry lines on his brow. I wondered if he would have ever told me the truth, if not for this little confrontation between us.

Silence descended again and I bit my lips, a million thoughts running through my head. I felt the pull of his scent through it all, an instinctive urge to reach out and touch and draw him close and I wondered if this was it. That for the rest of our lives we would just be drawn to each other, reluctant and hurt but unable to stay away.

“You’re leaving tomorrow then?” He asked quietly breaking through the fog in my head.  

“Well obviously not.” I snapped. “ I’m not leaving you. I’ll tell Minho, we’ll be staying here for a few weeks. Do you actually have a possible job back home? If you don’t I can ask my agent to find one for you….”

Jungkook was staring at me like I’d grown an extra head.

“ What?” I asked roughly.

He swallowed.

“No.. I .. I don’t have a job there.”

“We’ll get you one. And my apartment is big enough so you can stay with me till we find you a place of your own. And I think it’ll actually be good for you, because there’s a Fine Art photographer, pretty well know guy who stays just a few blocks away and e can probably- “

“You haven’t really changed have you?” Jungkook cut me off in the middle of my rambling .

I flushed, looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“Back when we were married… it was just like this.. I’d fuck up and do something awful and you’d just take it all in stride, get ready to help me out of it….”

“I don’t know what you mean…” I said quickly, “ Let’s go back to the party we’ll talk later-“

He grabbed both my arms, pulling me back to face him when I tried to get past him and I yelped, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?” I demanded. “ What is it now?”

“How do you do this thing, Heejin ?” He asked roughly. “ How do you just get ready to clean up every fucking mess I make like it doesn’t hurt you? Like I don’t hurt you?”

“What are you talking about?” I tried to wriggle out of his hold but he tugged me closer.

“How do you just…” He shook his head, “ accept me so unconditionally? Like… Its like no matter what I do, you’re just willing to look past it and I don’t fucking understand Heejin… why do you put up with me, damn it?”

I stared right at him. Caught his gaze and held it, refusing to look away.

“You know why.” I whispered, licking my lips, throat dry,  “ And if you don’t…. I’m not going to tell you.”

His eyes widened , lips parting and he exhaled sharply, before letting me go and stepping away.

He looked away, shaking a little and I sighed.

“Let’s just get this night over with, yeah?” I said quietly. “ and then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t reply, merely standing aside and motioning for me to leave first.

I shook my head, moving to grip his arm instead.

“Together.” I said firmly. “ We’ll get this night over with, together.”

 Author’s Note : i love these two. i’ve never wanted two people to be together so much. 

@taeshuworld  .@girlinthemikrokosmos  @xius-exos  @sugainfireslex  @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa  @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland  @veronawrites  @blr1004   @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay @squishyjk  @itsdingdong @emmmui  @honeeybunneey  @yeonkiminnie @just-me-and-myselfs  @delicate-snow-flake  @kpop-lore  @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld  @btsmylife21  @teresaisla .@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie  @ meraki–life  @somewhereinthestates  @mawwnsterr  @kookiesbreaky  @chimchoom  

@namjooningelsewhere  @itsdingdong  @ungodlyjoon  @caratarmy131  

@ladyartemesia  @hardggukk @iliveforjin  @loveemariee

@unicornbabylover  @dchimminie  @nope2214   @landl7xoxo

@mrcleanheichou  @kayteekat @wassup-haeyadwae   @natgba   @nikkiordonez12    @neverthefirstchoice  @btsssssfiction  

@mylittlestrangeandsweetworld   @kookiesxbananamilk     @lovra974   @supernoonanyc  @kokoandkookie​  

[facelessxchurch]

SP Merch Review

I'm an artist, if there is anything art-related going on with SP of course I will have something to say about it.

It's long, it includes pics and it's under the cut. Enjoy.

Ok, started off with the video bc apparently I love to torture myself.

"But it occurred to me, with the amount of control I exert over all things Skulduggery I would not be entirely comfortable handing someone else that level of control, so I realized-oh- I'm going to have to do it."

^^^^That quote not only sums up why the merch looks the way it does, but this is also why there is no SP movie yet.

"Pins that I have designed, keychains that Jaime [pin maker] has designed"

That explains why the keychains are so much better than the pins

"Booksmarks that Laura has designed"

oh no D:

"I never liked wearing anything intented for the mass-market I always preferred the cult, which is what Skulduggery Pleasant has become."

He does sound like an entitled rich kid AND a gatekeeper at the same time here. Amazing. Also, massive cope here for SP not having become as successful as he wanted it too. And if he means cult like cult-classic than no. If he means cult like cult, then yes. Later on, he goes on about those pins and stuff being little identifiers to find each other and he makes it sound very exclusive and omg people with low self-esteem and the desire to feel like one of the special few are gonna love this.

But he is right, the SP stuff it kinda cultish. It has no more mass appeal but it has a few very dedicated fans that are gonna eat up all things SP no matter what.

_____________________

I'm reading the intro text and this actually does read like he wants to start a cult.

"There are people who exist in this world only because of Skulduggery Pleasant."

Yeah, people do find each other bc of shared interests, SP ain't special in that regard. Also, suspecting that this text was probably written by Landy himself makes reading it even more of an acid trip.

Now to the art related reviews.

Skulduggery and Valkyrie Enamle Pins

2/10

Fuck these are ugly. What's going on with Skulls mouth? He be like OMO he looks lost. Meanwhile Val has no eyebrows and forehead for days plus her outfit could do with a little more detail.

The shape of the actual pin is not only ugly AF (at least make it symmetrical or something for fucks sake) it also gotta be unpleasant to the touch with how spiky it is.

For a fix, honestly just let Jaime (pin maker) do them in the same style as the "Shadow and Bone" ones bc these are freaking gorgeous.

[here is a link to the pins]

If you want something more in the noir-ish style of SP you could also shade the faces like in the mini artworks the old SP books used to have at the beginning of each chapter instead of leaving them completely blank. I can't find pics of that online but it was like a darkest dungeon kinda style.

Tote Bag

?/10

This one has no pic yet but it's supposed to be just covered in SP quotes. No extra points to creativity here, but I don't know what it looks like, so I have nothing much to say yet.

Midnight Hotel Keychain/Bag Charm

8/10

Once again, no points for creativity. Hotel/Motel keychains are pretty popular and Vograce even has their own category for it. But it looks pretty amazing. The pic of the hotel looks good, love the gradient on it, the font is gorgeous. I'm also really digging the silver and blue colours. The only thing that needs to go is the mini skull charm bc it's ugly as fuck.

Hibernian Cinema Keychain/Bag Charm

9/10

Oh, I really like this one! I haven't seen a lot of keychains in ticket form and I think this old school ticked design looks quite quaint. Again the pic of the cinema looks good and the font fits perfectly, the colours harmonise and are pleasant to look at.

Mini Skull Charm

0/10

I hate this. Landy drew this in 5 seconds in MS Paint, didn't he? I showed this to my mom and she insists it looks like a sad little ghost no matter how much I try to explain to her it's the top half of a skull.

Bookmark

1/10

That one point is just a pity point for the effort.

That skull looks like it was traced from a photo by someone who doesn't even know what the word 'line dynamic' means. The random texture on it makes it look dirty and its grin is derpy AF. The colours clash with each other, especially the yellow of the 'kind of' looks way too saturated and out of place. Visually it's just a mess. Also the colours are kinda too dark, especially the blue. The red colours need more contrast between font and book colour. Rule of thumb, if you print it tends to turn out darker than expected.

Plus the fonts(s) are weird. They don't seem to fit SP, instead they make me think of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"??

Not a critique point but bc Tanith likes to read it would have been cool if her sword would have been leaning against it. What also would have been cool, different book stack bookmarks for different characters. With their own quotes and colour schemes.

Here is an example of a bock-stack-quote from the LitPinsAndCo website.

The colours harmonize and the fonts are different but they all fit to each other. Simple but nice book design. It's just pleasant to look at.

I tried to do a REALLY QUICK quick fix to show you what I mean. Added detail to the skull, lightened the colours and tried to harmonize them with a gradient map set to colour with lowered opacity.

Still doesn't look great, but I refuse to spend more than 5 min on it. But you get my point, right?

Stickers and Magnet

?/10

There are no pictures for these either. I would have really hoped at least the page would actually be complete prior to launch :/ on the other hand, I don't like waiting so I actually do prefer quick over complete.

Conclusion

I'm not going to pledge to the Kickstarter personally since I don't actually want any of the items. You know me, I just want nasty boi stuff.

The only ones that turned out good were the ones designed by a professional. Since neither Landy nor Laura are artists I don't understand why they insisted on making official merchandise designs. This is just an ego trip for them again, isn't it?

You know this is the kinda shit I mean when I say Landy is the biggest weak spot of SP. His own ego keeps getting in the way. Laura is just as bad and probably enabling him. I also feel that with this he kinda wants to self-validate himself and 'prove wrong' those that kicked him out of animation school/people that said he is a bad artist.

He needs to let go of his ego and let the professionals take over when he is out of his depth.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

Supercorp 26 if you’d please?!

"Yeah? Well, fuck you too."

Kara fought the urge to flinch at the harsh way the woman beside her slams her phone down in the space between them.

Kara was sat peacefully in her usual park bench today, like every day when she's got a few extra minutes on her lunch break. She's spotted this woman a few yards away, next to the drinking fountain, angrily talking into her phone.

An expensive looking, six-inch heel wearing, raven-haired woman.

Kara had observed her for a good few minutes before getting distracted by the ice cream truck.

By the time she came back to the park bench, said woman was already sitting next to her spot. Still ranting away into her phone.

Kara doesn't know whether to pity the creature on the other side of the phone or be curious. What could they have possibly done to warrant such a violent reaction???

The woman now has her hands pressed to her face, back hunched low, elbows resting on knees. Kara can feel the frustration rolling off of her in waves.

Kara gingerly pushes the 2nd cup of her ice cream towards her. It was a half-hearted decision really, she was excited to finish the second cup. But oh, well, when life calls for kindness Kara would deliver.

"Uhm, here, you sound like you had a bad day."

The woman slowly raises their head, looks at the offering in Kara's hands and then to Kara and then to the ice cream and then to Kara again.

Her eyes were a light green mixing with gold in the open sunlight of the park.

For a moment, Kara thinks, she wouldn't accept.

But then, pale hands reach towards hers and then, "Thank you."

Kara smiles brightly, perks up a bit at the approval.

'Of course," Kara says. "Nothing like ice cream to cheer you up!"

The woman gives her a small polite small, nods slowly and brings the plastic teaspoon to her lips.

Kara should not have been distracted by such a mundane gesture.

But here we are.

She tries to hide her blush, fidgets with her glasses and takes a spoonful herself before speaking again.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what's got you so upset? I mean you totally don't have to tell me! If you don't want to, that is! I mean who am I, right? I'm probably a serial killer for all you know, but also would serial killers offer you ice cream, though? I don't think they would, I think they'd straight up just mur-"

Kara glances at the woman who seems to be holding her free hand over her face in an attempt to cover her amusement.

"Please stop me," Kara pleads. The other woman's shoulders shake in silent laughter before saving Kara.

"First off, thank you again. For this." She raises the cup playfully. "Second of all, it was just a work thing. But nothing I can't figure out and for the record, I also don't think serial killers would offer you ice cream."

And then more hesitantly the woman asks, "Do you have a sibling?"

Kara doesn't know if she should answer, the sibling question has no relevance to their current conversation after all. But Kara finds herself nodding along.

"Oh, yeah. I do. A sister. I have an older sister,' She elaborates.

"Good. Great. Then you know that feeling when your mom asks your sibling to do some chore and then somehow somewhere along the way, the chore ends up being your responsibility even though you weren't the one who was supposed to do it anyway??"

Wow, okay. That was a lot to take in. But Kara got most of it. And yeah, she does know. Snippets of Alex sneaking out and telling Kara to wash the dishes for her or fold the laundry for her--errands that were Alex's job getting passed down to her. Alex using the 'I'm older do as I say.' card when they were younger.

So, again, Kara finds herself nodding along.

"Yeah. I get what you mean," She says.

"Now, take whatever scenario in your mind and then multiply that ten-fold. Multiply it to disastrous proportions. To corporate, career-ending proportions,' The woman tells her, her irritation once again showing.

"Oh, oh wow, that sounds really bad?' It comes out like a question, she doesn't really know what to tell this woman. She doesn't want to say, Well, I think your sibling is an ass if they do that to you, she thinks that might be too much, might be overstepping a bit.

But then, "Oh yeah, my brother's an ass."

Oh, so not too much then.

Her companion lets out a deep sigh, "But what can you do? You can't change family. Not like I have much of a choice anyway."

The woman sounds defeated, tired. And it's only then that Kara notices how her eyes are sunken and how unnaturally pale she really is.

Kara wants to console her, to tell her that everyone always has a choice, every single one--even angry women she met in the park. You can always choose who you want as your family.

But instead Kara says, "Well, that's okay. Just look on the bright side, at least you got a free ice cream over it, right?"

The woman gives her another smile. A big smile, a real one this time.

And oh, she looks really beautiful when she smiles.

"I guess you're right. Thank you, really. I appreciate it very much," She tells Kara. "But I do have to get going now. Thank you again."

The woman collects her trash, picks up her phone and leaves Kara sitting there, a 'You're welcome!' stuck in her throat.

It isn't till the woman is lost to the crowd that Kara realizes she didn't ask for her name.

She tries to push down the disappointment, no use crying about it now. And besides, it's her first real interview today. Her first real exclusive and...she is so damn late.

******

"Miss Danvers, there have been a slight change of plans. Mr. Luthor seems to be unavailable for today but he did sent Ms. Luthor, LexCorp's R&D chief, to discuss the interview with you today."

Well, Kara can't really do anything about it can she? This is what Clark and Cat Grant had warned her about, people like Lex Luthor, making a journalist's job harder that it actually is.

"Oh, well, thank you for informing me. Can I go in now then?"

"Uh, yeah. Follow me please, it's just through here."

Kara is led through a long hallway of empty conference rooms and walls with abstract painting.

They reach the double doors at the end of the lobby and the petite woman guiding her, went on inside.

"Ms. Luthor, your CatCo appointment is here."

Kara hears a curt and brief, "Thanks Jess."

And then, there, sitting in a pristine office, National City skyline behind her is Lena Luthor--angry park bench seatmate who ate Kara's precious 2nd cup of ice cream.

Lena's eyes sparkle with recognition at the sight of Kara.

Her lips curling into a smirk.

"Oh, and who are you exactly?"

prompt list here

[andatsea]

XP-Pen Artist Pro 24 Review

I drew this with an XP-Pen Artist Pro 24, which the team at XP-Pen kindly sent to me for review. I’ve had to opportunity to use this tablet on-and-off over the course of the past several weeks, and while there were a few issues my overall impression is positive.

Unboxing / Contents

Apart from the 24” display tablet itself, the package comes with the usual cabling peripherals, plus some bonus extras. If your machine supports a USB-C connection for display, you’ll only need the one cable (plus the power connection). Otherwise, there’s a HDMI and a USB-C to USB converter included as well.

The extras include: an additional stylus, a one-size-fits-all artist’s glove, and a microfiber cloth.

The container for the stylus twists open to reveal 8 extra stylus nibs. Its cap can also be removed to use as a stylus holder.

Driver (Installation & General Use)

There were a few issues with installation, mostly tied to interactions between the driver, Windows 10 and Windows Ink.

Initially, brush strokes were offset from the stylus’ point of contact with the screen by about 3-4 centimetres when attempting to draw in Photoshop CS6. Random straight strokes also occurred frequently. This same problem did not occur in MS Paint or Photoshop CC 2019. This was fixed by changing the UI scaling setting for the monitor in Windows settings from 125% (which was apparently the default) to 100%.

Initially, brush strokes had no pen pressure in Photoshop CC 2019. Photoshop CS6, on the other hand, did (but suffered from the previous offset problem). This was fixed by turning on the Windows Ink setting in the XP-Pen driver menu. So in other words: CC 2019 needs Windows Ink on to recognise pen pressure, while CS6 didn’t, but was affected by UI scaling.

Interestingly, if Windows Task Manager was in focus and Windows Ink was not enabled in driver settings, stylus input was not recognised at all. There may be other programs that have this issue, but this was the only one I encountered so far.

I will say that I’ve had many problems with Wacom drivers interacting badly with Windows Ink and other things in the past before, so these types of issues are not exclusive to the XP-Pen drivers.

I’m currently using driver version 3.0.5, a beta build that has a lovely UI; it’s clear and laid out well. I did also try version 1.6.4 initially, which was fine — the UI for that version was similar to the layout you find with Wacom drivers.

Apart from the issues during installation that required troubleshooting, I haven’t had many major complaints with the driver in day-to-day use, I do think that there are a few areas for improvement, however.

The driver stops working correctly each time the computer is set to sleep and woken up again. To fix this the driver must be exited from the system tray and then relaunched.

There also doesn’t seem to be a way to bind WIN+SHIFT+ARROW to any of the express keys. WIN+SHIFT+ARROW (left or right arrow) is the Windows shortcut to quickly move a focused window to another monitor, so it’s something I use a lot if I’m on a multi-monitor setup. Unfortunately, attempting to set this shortcut in the express keys menu will simply move the actual driver window over to the other monitor while the custom input is not properly recognised in the text field.

The driver does offer a “switch monitor” option for the express keys that when clicked will transfer your stylus input to another monitor, which is extremely useful.

Screen

At 24” with a 2560x1440p QHD resolution, images are sharp and crisp even when viewed from a close range while drawing. Genuinely, it feels great to paint on based off this aspect alone.

The colour temperature is set to 6500K by default in the the driver settings. I think initially it felt just a touch too saturated, but overall I’m fairly happy with the colour display.

The monitor has touch-sensitive inputs on the top right corner: a -/+ for quickly adjusting the brightness, a menu for further settings, and power. I found myself using these to adjust the brightness throughout the day frequently. The power input requires a few seconds of continued contact from your finger to react, which prevents you from accidentally brushing it and turning the monitor on/off.

The monitor comes with a built-in stand. I found it easy to adjust to different viewing angles and also incredibly sturdy. I had no problems leaning on the monitor while drawing.

The monitor also comes with a pre-applied anti-glare screen protector. I wasn’t bothered by it and it seems to be holding out well after several weeks of use. I think the screen itself definitely needs the additional anti-glare, as being a display tablet means that it’s significantly more reflective than my main display.

Stylus

My first impression of the stylus was that it’s lighter in comparison to the Wacom styluses that I’m used to — there is very little to no weighting on the back end of the stylus, which makes it feel noticeably different when gripped. To be honest, though, I forgot about it when I was actually painting. Still, I would prefer a bit more weighting because I do think it makes the stylus more comfortable to hold overall for long periods of time.

There’s also no eraser nib, but I’ve personally never used those on Wacom tablets (I always use shortcuts to switch between brush and eraser instead) so this was a non-issue for me.

The two shortcut buttons on the side of the stylus sit quite flat to the surface, so I think they would be less likely to bother people who don’t use them. I use them a lot, however, and found that they were still easy to click despite being quite flat.

Unfortunately however I ran into a curious issue with using one of the stylus buttons to activate the eyedropper tool. When the “alt” key is mapped to one of the triggers on the stylus, activation of the eyedropper function in Photoshop (tested in both CS6 and CC 2019) is somewhat unreliable. That is, when the “alt” key is held down, the expected result is that once you tap the stylus on the canvas, a “mouse-click” will be triggered and the eyedropper will activate. While this works perfectly fine if you hold down “alt” from the keyboard (or hold down an “alt” that’s bound to one of the 20 express keys), when you hold “alt” from a stylus trigger I found that tapping quickly with the stylus only seemed to activate the eyedropper about 50% of the time. In order to activate it more reliably, I had to press harder and longer with the stylus, which can become tiring and slowed down my painting process. I also found that frequently, pressing down longer would lock me into the eyedropping function until I clicked the trigger key again.

After submitting feedback about this XP-Pen’s R&D department, I was informed that this issue occurs because the stylus is only able to send one message to the tablet at a time. Pressing “alt” on the stylus and trying to “click” at the same time counts as two messages, which may interact with each other unexpectedly. This is why it sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t.

The buttons seem to otherwise work completely fine for any other functions that don’t require the stylus to send two simultaneous messages, so unless you’re like me and like to bind “alt” to a stylus trigger, this won’t affect you.

Pen Pressure & Activation Force

Most current-gen tablets flash a big number for the pen pressure levels as a selling point. Having used tablets with 512, 2k, 4k and 8k levels of pressure sensitivity, I’d say I noticed the biggest difference when switching from 512 to 2k, but in my opinion beyond 2k the change is minimal and has no real impact on the way I draw. The XP-Pen Artist Pro 24 comes with 8192 levels of sensitivty, which is a very big number, but in practical application all I can say is that it works the way I expect it to and I don’t have any complaints regarding the transition between pressure levels on the default linear pressure curve.

More importantly I did notice that the IAF (initial activation force) was not as low as I would have liked. Very light input is not recognised, or only partially recognised before dropping off and on again. In a practical sense this doesn’t actually impact me through most of (perhaps 97%) of the painting process, but it did give me pause once in a while when I wanted to make a really light stroke and had to adjust my method. The drivers for this tablet do come with a pressure curve you can adjust to your preferences, so this can help a little, although after some tests I preferred to leave mine on the default setting.

Summary of Drawing Experience (tl;dr)

I think the mark of a good tool or piece of hardware is that it does not draw attention to itself during the course of its use. An ideal drawing experience allows me to be fully immersed in the act of drawing without having my focus shifted to dealing with the tool. With this in mind the XP-Pen Artist Pro performed very well for the most part, but was held back by a couple of issues.

Pros:

The monitor resolution honestly feels great to look at; the pixel density means that I can basically forget about pixels even with my face positioned closer to the screen.

The parallax between the tip of the stylus and the actual position of input was very minimal and basically not noticeable for me, especially after the simple calibration process offered by the driver.

At normal room temperature (say up to about mid-20’s celsius) the monitor screen stays impressively cool to the touch and I was never bothered by resting my drawing hand on its surface even when painting for long sessions.

The 20 express keys and 2 roller rings are extremely helpful and I actually found myself using all of them, despite initially thinking that I’d only need half of them. The keys are also comfortable and responsive to click (which sounds like it should obviously be so, but having used some Intuos iterations in the past which had some very annoying-to-click express keys, I don’t take this feature for granted anymore).

Cons:

The driver needs to be restarted everytime the computer wakes from sleep in order to work.

Higher IAF was noticeable when very light strokes were desirable. Also, the input will on rare occasions glitch by performing a completely straight max opacity + max brush size stroke. This seemed to happen primarily when I was trying to get light strokes to register. (It didn’t happen often enough to bother me much since it’s just a quick undo, but it did happen enough times that I noticed it.)

The issue with eyedropping using “alt” mapped to a stylus trigger as detailed above. Quite unlucky for someone like me who has over a decade of muscle memory for this particular mapping.

Overall, as I said at the beginning, my impression of the tablet is positive. While I think it has room for improvement when it comes to driver performance and the initial activation force especially, it also has a lot to offer at a highly competitive price point ($900USD at retail), and it would’ve been amazing if something like this had been available to me back when I first started digital painting. As I do enjoy using it for the most part I’ll probably continue to use it on-and-off in future.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

 Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

 "What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

 The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

 If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

 "Of August?" she asks.

 "Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

 "Duh."

 Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

 "Good, because we have plans."

 She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

 "No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

 Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

 "Our Smarter House thing won an award."

 "No shit?"

 "Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

 She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

 Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

 "Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

 "No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

 "Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

 Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

 Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

 Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

 She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

 "I thought I had until two."

 "That was before I had the best idea."

 The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

 "First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

 Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

 Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

 Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

 Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

 "Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

 She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

 When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

 Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

 "The guy you've been seeing."

 How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

 She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

 Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

 "How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

 "Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

 Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

 "That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

 "So, for a few hours?"

 She shrugs. "More or less."

 "I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

 "Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

 Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

 "Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

 "Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

 "Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

 Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

 "Another business bro, I assume?"

 "He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

 She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

 "Ballet."

 Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

 “I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

 “Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

 “I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

 “The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

 Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

 “Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

 Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Congrats.”

 “Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

 Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

 “Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

 “You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

 She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

 Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

 “Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

 “2019 fall/winter?”

 Annabeth nods.

 “Styling?”

 “Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

 Throwing her head back, she groans.

 “What? What’s wrong?”

 “You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

 “Well… yeah, I was.”

 “Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

 Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

 “That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

 Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

 “Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

 Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

 “I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

 “Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

 Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

 “I don’t know…”

 “You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

 “What did you have in mind?”

 Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

 Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

 “They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

 Well. They are pretty cool.

 “It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

 Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

 “I haven’t even done anything.”

 “I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

 ***

 “Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

 “Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

 “Oh.”

 “Why?”

 “Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

 She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

 The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

 “Annabeth Chase.”

 She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

 Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

 Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

 “And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

 “You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

 “Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

 She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

 Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

 “Seriously?”

 “Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

 She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

 “Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

 “Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

 He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

 “I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

 This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

 “I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

 He frowns. “You sure?”

 Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

 “You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

 Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

 There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

 Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

 “It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

 From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

 She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

 “As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

 She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

 “But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

 Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

 Hey, it’s her night, too.

 After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

 Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

 Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

 “...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

 “I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

 “You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

 “Rehab? Really?”

 “What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

 Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

 But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

 Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

 The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

 Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

 Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

 Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

 The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

 She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

 That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

 Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

 She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

 She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

 It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

 She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

 Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

 It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you  

[yawnjunie]

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

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

Pairing: broke artist!reader x art sponsor!beomgyu

Word count: 7k

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

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

— blu and struz

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll get there someday.

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

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

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

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

Single as hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

–––

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

♪ I see trees of green,

red roses too ♪

♪ I see them bloom,

for me and you ♪

♪ and I think to myself

what a wonderful world ♪

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am so, so sorry about this.”

“You should be.”

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

And then he bolted.

🏃 💨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gotchu now, you jer–” 

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

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

–––

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XXX-XXX-XXXX

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

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

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

“Hello, welcome to Papa John’s Pi–”

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

–––

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

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

It was from an unknown number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[You] okay why do you have my number

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] because you called me

[You] right. okay, what do you want

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

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

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

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

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

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

[You] it’s fine, you can keep that

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

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

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

[You] no sorry :(

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

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

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

Fml.

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

[You] oh shoot

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

XXX-XXX-XXXX is typing…

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About my compensation.”

[teenyfish]

Marine Biology Story of the Day #10

Hello all.  This post was kinda delayed because I spent all day cleaning out my pool (it’s an above ground pool—my COVID 19 impulse purchase) because a hurricane came through and it’s full of dead insects and leaves among other things.  The joys of living right on the coast 😊

Thanks for all of your interest and support on my shrimp research—it’s nice to know that people are interested in the little guys too.  So today, we are going to talk about how all of my interest in tiny fish got started—my master’s program and my thesis.  

SOoooo…originally I wasn’t planning on getting my masters because it sounded like a lot of work but then I changed my mind last minute when I started looking at job applications and saw that for many of them, you needed a masters—so I ended up becoming a master’s student at the same University that I did my undergrad at—called Christopher Newport University.  It’s a teeny public school in Virginia near the Chesapeake Bay. And the reason I chose to do this is because I would be working under Dr. Jessica Thompson, who in hindsight, was probably the best advisor I could have had.

Dr. Thompson is a wonderful human being with many beautiful tattoos, and can definitely drink me under the table, and raises chickens in the middle of a city, but she is also pure and wholly supportive—something that I really needed during that period of my life.  She also exclusively studied a wonderful teeny tiny fish:  Fundulus heteroclitus, or the Mummichog.

(The males are the ones with the stripes and bright shiny scales and the female is the drabber one)

Her research focuses on this little fish because it is one of the hardiest fish on the east coast.  It primarily lives in shallow water salt marsh habitats (intertidal marshes). These shallow water habitats often have very extreme temperature and salinity changes, as shallow water heats and cools up much faster than deep water.  So they can survive in a wide range of temperatures, salinities, and dissolved oxygen conditions—I call them the cockroaches of the sea (except they are much cuter).  They are also a very important food resources for a TON of marine and coastal predators.

They were also the first fish in space—and they were used in spatial orientation studies.  You see, in space, animals and plants can lose all sense of up and down because there is no gravity—however in a few days, this fish were able to figure out their spatial orientation (possibly due to orienting to the overhead light source?). Anyway, they are incredible little babies.

(NASA scientist John Boyd choosing the first two fish (and fish eggs) to leave planet earth)

Because they can move into the very shallow intertidal marsh area (the part where the grasses grow) they can avoid predators during high tide, and this area of the marsh is chock full of food for them, mostly in the form of small zooplankton and worms that live in the mud.  But during low tide, this part of the habitat dries up, and they are forced out into the deeper subtidal creeks of the marsh, where they get to be in cooler water, but they are at the mercy of predators, and there is less food.

(everything in the open water is subtidal, everything between tidal flat and low marsh is intertidal)

My aspect of this research involved looking at behavior choices made by these guys when presented with “intertidal marsh” habitat filled with food and marsh grass (their preferred habitat), however we cranked the temperature up to 34-40 oC (93—104 oF), OR a empty “subtidal creek” habitat with no food or structure, but at their optimum temperature for growth at 26 oC (79 oF). 34-40 oC is an EXTREMELY high temperature for fish to be able to function at—most fish begin shutting down their metabolism at these temperatures (aka dying).  But supposedly, Mummichog can deal with these temps.  There thermal maxima (upper temperature at which they can function) is reported to be 42 oC.

So I had to construct an experimental tank.  

These were some of the first iterations of the tank—we had to do a lot of practice runs before we got the design just right.  The concept is the same—we used this corrugated plastic (the same you use to make those political signs ppl stick in their front yard) to form two sections, one for warm, one for cold, and a box in the middle that we would remove a door and allow for the fish to swim out.  Once the fish chose a side (remained on a side for more than 10 seconds) we would close them off from the rest of the tank—they made a “choice”. In later iterations of the design, we covered the tank in more of the plastic to hide them from us (so they wouldn’t show fear behaviors) and put in fake salt marsh grass on the warm side to mimic an intertidal marsh habitat.  Fish were also fed pieces of cut up shrimp on the warm side.   We ran 3 trials at increasing temperatures for each run, and during each trial, the fish were run through the tank simulation once a day for three weeks.  

In order to get fish for this study, we had to catch wild fish. To catch them, we set minnow traps in the small channels leading into the intertidal marsh at low tide, and as the tide came in, and fish funneled into these channels, they became trapped in our minnow traps.

(examples of minnow traps, and our collection site in Norfolk) 

Problem was, in order to get out to these sites, we had to slog through some serious mud.  I’m talking about sink up to your thigh levels of mud y’all (and this really bothered me, I’m super claustrophobic).  So in order not to get trapped in the mud, we had to wear mudders, which are a little bit like snowshoes (in concept?) but also not like snowshoes at all.  They were like boxes you strapped onto your feet with plastic sticking out on the side which was meant to make your footprint bigger (and therefore give you more support on the mud).  They worked pretty well but they always gave me major bruises on my ankles as the plastic pressed up and into my ankles.  I had to buy some foam padding to wrap around my ankles it was so bad.

Once we got our sweet little babies, I would tag each of them individualy so I could keep track of individual fish.  I did this with a combination of Visible Implant Alpha Tags, which are florescent and have individual numbers on them, or Visible Implant Elastomer Tag, which are made of a non-toxic elastomer “paint” and come in 9 colors, so you can create an individual code for each individual by combining 2 colors. These tags are injected under the skin so that they are still visible (fish skin is pretty transparent) but are not very deep in the muscle tissue. These are really great tags to use on really small fish. We used MS-Tricane to anesthetize the fish and inject them, so basically I’ve done fish surgery. You can check out these tags at Northwest Marine Technology—I still use them now!  I’m using them on a current project.  

(left, a VI Alpha Tag on a trout, right, two different colors of VI elastomer tags on a flounder) 

And our fish did really well after tagging—we had no tagging mortalities!

Once we ran these fish through all three trials, it was time to analyze data. We calculated the fish’s dominant “choice” by calculating the proportion of days during the trial they chose the “warm side”—if their proportion was 90%, they had a high affinity for choosing the warm side, 30% they had a low affinity for choosing the warm side and instead more often chose the cool side for example.  Then we put this data into environmental models to see if temperature influenced their choices.

And the result?

You read it here first folks.  These little fish decided to swim into upwards of 104 o C water regularly to get food—they were so food motivated—and most fish chose the warm side over the cool side most often during every trial.  However there was a decent amount of variation—there was a contingent of fish that went into the cool side more often as temperature rose, and would forgo eating for comfort, but overall, the fish chose the warm side.  This shows that these fish may be able to adapt quickly as temperatures rise—and those that choose to move into warmer, shallower waters to access food will more likely survive to reproduce (since they choose to be in regions with less predators and more food).  This means they are more likely to pass on their warm water acclimating genes to their offspring, continuing their species ability to deal with extreme temperatures on to the next generations.  

My thesis defense obviously went well, and I got my masters, but I’ve kept my interest for the smaller fish and invertebrate species because they form one of the base levels of our ocean ecosystems and serve as a very important food resource to larger predators.  I’d like to credit Dr. Thompson for giving me this interested and giving me the appreciation for these little and underappreciated animals.  She and I have kept in touch—she was actually at my wedding last May, and when my dad got in a major accident (four days before I was supposed to defend my thesis) she came to the hospital and helped me through it, and also helped me push back my defense one semester so I could recuperate from the trauma a little.  I am extremely grateful for her tutelage, and I’m grateful for these sweet little babies.

Thanks for reading, and as always, if you have any questions about the field work or the research, PLEASE do not hesitate to ask or comment.

[rwbyvein]

Holy Grail: Model Student

Jaune: *nervously walked into the art classroom*

Jaune: *nervously waves*

Glynda: Now, Velvet assures me you will make proper model material.

Jaune: *awkward smile*

Velvet: If I could, Miss Goodwitch?

Glynda: Of course.

Velvet: *walks up to Jaune*

Jaune: *warm smile*

Glynda: Well, that's a start. Mr. Arc, since this is a first time, why don't you strike us a pose?

Jaune: *puffs out his chest*

Glynda: That will do.

Glynda: *turns to the class*

Glynda: Since this is his first time, simple charcoal should do. Until he gets more comfortable, here.

* * *

Glynda (harshly): Mr. Arc?

Jaune: *looks at her nervously*

Glynda: We would like to thank you for your time.

Jaune: Oh, uh... thank you.

Glynda: *closes her eyes with a stressed look*

Glynda: Now, we understand that this was your first time, and if you wish to continue to help us, we would be exceptionally grateful.

Jaune: *nervous look*

Velvet: *grabs his hand and tugs him towards the door*

* * *

Jaune and Velvet: *sit on the grass surrounding Beacon*

Velvet: So, how was your first time?

Jaune: I thought my first time was with you?..

Velvet: It's a lot different in a crowd.

Jaune: It... is...

Velvet: But, you did well. Everyone seemed to have fun. All of the students got some great sketches out of it.

* * *

Jaune: *walks down the corridors*

Gynda (harshly): Mr. Arc.

Jaune: *nervously stops and turns to her*

Glynda: If you could see me in my office some time today after classes?

Jaune: *nervously nods*

* * *

Jaune: *sits down in Glynda's office*

Glynda: Mr. Arc...

Jaune: *looks at her nervously*

Glynda: We were wondering if you could pose for us again?

Jaune: Uh... oh... yeah... sure...

Glynda: Thank you. We would prefer to sketch you without your blazer.

Jaune: Uh, yeah, that works.

Glynda: Thank you.

* * *

Jaune: *throws his blazer over his shoulder as the glass begins to sketch him*

* * *

Glynda (harshly): We would like to thank you once again.

Jaune: It was... welcome.

* * *

Jaune: *stands in his armour, bearing Crocea Mors, in a dramatic pose*

* * *

Glynda: Mr. Arc. We would like to thank you for all of your help.

Jaune: *awkward smile*

Glynda: There is no easy way to say this, so I will simply jump straight to it. We would like to get into human figure drawings.

Jaune: *confused look*

Glynda: *clears her throat*

Glynda: *breathes deep*

Glynda: Nude, or near-nude figures. You have become quite popular with the students in the class.

Jaune: *breathes deeply*

Glynda: We would understand if you would wish to refuse. If you do agree, we will be happy to dismiss should you feel too uncomfortable to continue. We will also make whatever accomodations we can to make you more comfortable.

Jaune: Like, what, you'd get naked too? Okay, probably shouldn't have...

Glynda: If that would make you more comfortable.

Jaune: . . .

Jaune: More comfortable... is probably not what it would make me...

Glynda: Are there other considerations we could do for you?

Jaune: I honestly don't know what would...

Glynda: Perhaps a cloth draped over your...

Glynda: *clears her throat*

Glynda: You could set yourself up before we bring the class in.

Jaune: I'll do it.

Glynda: Wonderful. I would like to once again thank you for all of your help.

* * *

Jaune: *walks into the art classroom*

Glynda: *points to the folding screen*

Jaune: *walks to the screen*

Glynda: I will excuse you two.

Jaune: Huh?

Glynda: Mr. Arc?

Jaune: Nevermind.

Velvet: *walks behind the screen with him*

* * *

Jaune: *nude and nervous, walks up to the stand*

Velvet: *drapes a cloth over his modesty*

Velvet: *kisses him on the cheek*

Velvet: Ready?

Jaune: *nods, which makes the cloth slip a bit*

Jaune: *quickly grabs the cloth to move it back into place*

Velvet: *bright smile*

Jaune: ...yeah...

Velvet: *goes to the door*

Glynda (from the corridor): Now, please remember, this is his first time, so I want you all to be respectful, and appreciate what he is doing for us.

*positive affirmations from the students*

*students file into the classroom*

Glynda: *walks into the class, and pauses*

Glynda: Oh, my. It seems Beacon has been good for you, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: *blushes and leans forward, causing the cloth to move slightly*

Jaune: *quickly adjusts the cloth*

* * *

Glynda: We will dismiss early, to give our dear model the modesty he needs. I want all students out of the classroom in five minutes.

Jaune: *raises his right hand, causing the cloth to slip a bit*

Jaune: *quickly grabs it with his left hand*

Glynda: Except Ms. Scarlatina.

Jaune: *affirmative groan*

Glynda: If you could get me once you are properly dressed.

Velvet: Of course.

* * *

Glynda: *walks into the classroom*

Glynda: Mr. Arc, it seems you survived today's ordeal.

Jaune: *nervously nods*

Glynda: Would you be willing to continue to do so in the future?

Jaune: *shrugs his shoulders*

Glynda: I would prefer a more firm answer, but I would understand why you might be reluctant. If there anything we could do to make you more comfortable.

Velvet: Maybe not more comfortable, but we could offer him a reward.

Glynda: *gives her a questioning look*

Velvet: Perhaps some glamour photos of you.

Glynda: *raises her eyebrows*

Glynda: In similar dress?

Velvet: YES!

Glynda: And...

Glynda: *narrows her eyes*

Glynda: I suppose you would volunteer to be the photographer?

Velvet: *eagerly nods*

Glynda: Very well. Tit for tat as it were.

Jaune: *wry smile*

Glynda: If you continue to pose for us, I will provide you with this.

Jaune: *jaw hangs slack*

Velvet: I think he loves that idea.

Glynda: In the mean time, to thank you for all of your time, I do have something given to me by a previous student.

Glynda: *walks into a side room and comes out a minute later with a covered painting*

Glynda: You must promise me two things.

Jaune: Uh, yeah?..

Glynda: You must place this on the inner wall of your dorm.

Jaune: Uh, yeah, sure.

Glynda: While being as exclusive as you currently are with allowing guests entry.

Jaune: Basically me, Velvet, and RWBY?

Glynda: Precisely. And second, with the photos, you are not to share them with anyone other than JNPR, and perhaps RWBY... You two do seem to be exceptional close.

Jaune: Uh, of course.

* * *

Jaune: *walks into his room with the painting, Velvet in his tow*

Ren: Who is the artist?

Jaune: I don't know. Previous student. Gave it to Glynda. She wanted me to put it...

Jaune: *hangs the painting on the inner wall of their dorm*

Jaune: *pulls the shroud off of it*

The painting was of Glynda, in the nude, covered like he was with a purple cloth, with what seemed like a black backing in the parts that were folded over.

[dreamerwitches]

I thought it’d be fun if I showed the process of making my lovely witch sprites! I’ll be showing the process of the bartels here!

To start with, I sketch out the basic shapes I want. I knew I wanted the bartels to slump over like they’re lifeless as in their bio it states ‘they have no will and are simply mannequins’. With my poses, I try to make them expressive and often exaggerated.

Just as a note, I use Photoshop for these sprites but I used to use MS Paint (no lie) for a long time for making sprites. Honestly, MS Paint is really good for sprites, the fill tool works so much better in it compared to Photoshop. I only favour Photoshop for it’s greater zoom ability (which I prefer with small sprites) and ability to have a transparent background (which makes moving sprites much more easy.

Next I clean up the lines and change any positions of body parts I’m not happy with. One example here is I added a crease line to the first bartels’ hat and made her hands and arms look better.

The next step is adding details: clothes and faces, etc. In this step I also fixed the second bartels’ leg position because it didn’t match up with her hips.

After this I block in colours with the fill tool (which would work much better in MS Paint, you can see here - in Photoshop - the fill tool doesn’t work well with these lines: it goes outside of them)

I haven’t mentioned this explicitly but these witch sprites are based off of Sailor Moon Another Story sprites so I’m attempting to use the same palette used for the original Sailor Moon sprites.

Next I simply clean up the colours (I missed a few spots here oops!)

(A little edit, I find that an easier way to do this - exclusively on photoshop - is to make two layers of the line-art, then fill in the bottom layer so you can be much messier and quicker when erasing the coloured dots outside the lines because the layer above stops your lines from being erased)

And now they’re done! I added shading to the bartels and gave them shadows!

I hope this little walkthrough of the process was interesting!

[zdbztumble]

From the Depths of the Vault

I recently found a copy of my family’s old computer drives, which included the drive set aside for my younger brothers and me. Along with my old collections of cryptozoology photos, research for fifth grade American history, and ID cards made on the old Men In Black website, there was all of the fan art and fan fiction that I made between the ages of nine and twelve. The fan art was all done via photo manips in MS Paint, the fan fiction was all written on Notepad, and it’s all of the quality you’d expect from someone of that age, but it was a lot of fun to go through again.

Among the nuggets from those days I found: surely other kids had the idea of Super Pokemon transformations, to match the Super Saiyans from Dragon Ball Z, and I took to Paint to re-color a couple of Pokemon accordingly: 

There were the costume changes I imposed on Ash and Misty, based on my notion that heroes should wear black T-shirts exclusively and a curious fit of censorship (which I suspect may have come from my mother loudly complaining about shorts length:)

And there were the scripts for “Night Games,” the one thing I consistently shared with my brothers throughout our childhood. We’d stay up all night, lying in our beds, verbally acting out all of our favorite cartoons (and a few cartoony live-action shows, like Gilligan’s Island.) However they started, the tendency for most was for me to end up playing all the actual characters, while my brothers played “junior” and “baby” versions of whichever character they liked the most (or could be the most annoying with.)  We improvised, for the most part, but we apparently wrote a few ideas down, like this exchange from 1999:

ASH'S SECOND SUPRISE

ASH: YAWN...GOOD NIGHT BROCK,GOOD NIGHT PIKACHU,GOOD NIGHT MISTY. SEE YOU IN THE MORNING

MISTY: GOOD NIGHT ASH. SWEET DREAMS(MISTY SINGS "MISTY'S SONG, BUT I DON'T KNOW ALL THE WORDS).

ASH: YAWN...DID YOU SAY SOMETHING MISTY?

MISTY: ME, NO I...I DIDN`T SAY ANYTHING ASH. GOOD NIGHT

ASH(THINKING): I HEARD SOMETHING THAT SOUNDED LIKE MISTY)

MISTY(THINKING): I WISH I COULD TELL ASH THAT I LOVE HIM, BUT I ALWAY`S LOOSE MY NERVE.

ASH: GOOD MORNING BROCK,GOOD MORNING PIKACHU,GOOD MORNING MISTY. DID YOU SLEEP GOOD?

BROCK: YES

PIKACHU: PIKA

MISTY: ...Y...YES

ASH(THINKING): THAT'S ODD

MISTY(THINKING): I REALLY DIDN`T SLEEP GOOD, I WAS THINKING ABOUT YOU, ASH.

BROCK: LET`S SLEEP HERE TONIGHT. WHAT DO YA` THINK ASH?

ASH: IT`S OKAY.

MISTY: IT`S FINE

PIKACHU: PIKA!

ASH: SEE YOU GUYS IN THE MORNING

MISTY: GOOD NIGHT ASH

ASH: GOOD NIGHT MISTY

MISTY(THINKING): I SHOULD TELL ASH TOMOROWW

ASH: GOOD MORNING GUYS. DID YOU SLEEP GOOD?

BROCK: YES

PIKACHU: PIKA!

MISTY: YES

ASH: GOOD

MISTY: ASH, MAY I SPEAK TO YOU ALONE?

ASH: SURE

MISTY: ASH, I DIDN`T SAY ANYTHING THAT ONE NIGHT YOU ASKED. I SUNG SOMETHING

ASH: WHAT?

MISTY: I...I...I ALWAYS LOOSE MY NERVE WHEN I WANT TO TELL YOU IT.

ASH: WHAT!?

MISTY: HERE IT GOES(MISTY SINGS "MISTY`S SONG" AGAIN, THIS TIME TO ASH).

ASH: YOU`RE SAYING THAT...

MISTY: YES ASH, I LOVE YOU

ASH: I..I`M SUPRISED AND CONFUSED MISTY

MISTY: YOU SAVED PIKACHU FROM SPERROW AND TEAM ROCKET, AND SAVED ME AND BROCK.

ASH: I GUESS I CAN DEAL WITH IT(THINKING): BUT WHAT THE...

ASH: IS THAT WHY YOU FOLLOW ME AROUND?

MISTY: YES

That covers me for Day 5 of Pokeshipping Week, right? XD

(We also apparently planned for Ash to have two older brothers, Jet and Ben - I assume those were my brothers’ characters. There were also Trainers named Jhon and Kenji, named with no knowledge of Tracey’s Japanese name. Ash was 12 to Misty’s 11 and Brock’s 17, Ash caught Mew and Mewtwo, Misty’s parents died when she was 4, and Team Rocket were all going to die at the hands of an OC named Lasua.)

Believe it or not, this is less cringe-worthy than my Ed, Edd n’ Eddy fic series - The Wolf-Ed, about how Double D’s hat hid the mark of the werewolf and the cul-de-sac kids spent five (two-page) fics trying to cure him.

[alj4890]

And Then I Met You

Part 19

What happens when the one you thought you were meant for turns out to be meant for someone else?

A\N Choices Fan Fiction with characters from The Royal Romance, Red Carpet Diaries, and Perfect Match

@alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @hopefulmoonobject   @krsnlove @littleblossom357   @annekebbphotography @gibbles82  @cora-nova @bella-ca  @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll

Masterlist

Part 19

"Are you enjoying your visit to Cordonia?" Ana De Luca asked.

"I always do." Ryan replied, smiling at the camera. "I vacation here every chance I get. Filming The Earl's Undoing in Cordonia is the dream work environment."

"This is my first time visiting and now I see why Ryan talks about it all the time. It's gorgeous and my wife is dropping some major hints to us buying a house here. I encourage everyone to see The Earl's Undoing so I can afford a down payment." Chris answered with a chuckle.

Ana turned to Lauren. "What do you think of Cordonia?"

Lauren coyly looked down. "It’s incredible. The people are so welcoming and I simply adore it. I have been so busy learning my lines that I have really only been out very late at night. I hope, once filming is completed, to see everything in the light of day."

Ryan and Chris shared a brief glance and kept their smiles in place. Holly stood off next to the cameraman and nearly broke her clipboard at Lauren's words. She didn't know if it was a good thing or not that Thomas and Amanda were off on their own for the week, touring the different locations for the movie.

The interview continued with more subtle hints of Lauren and Thomas being close to one another. Ryan oozed his charm to draw Ana's attention away from asking follow-up questions. Chris also worked in tandem to Ryan in an attempt to keep the interview strictly on the movie.

"Amanda hired Jax Matsuo of New York to teach Ryan and I how to fence. That man moves with a speed like no one else I have ever seen before. I'm pretty sure that if we had to really fight him with swords, we would be giving this interview through a seance." Chris joked.

Ryan laughed and added that Chris was jealous because he had learned faster. Lauren indulgently smiled at their good natured hazing. She shook her head at their teasing and leaned toward Ana. "With these two characters, I think I am forgiven for needing a mature distraction every now and then."

Everyone's heads jerked up at the loud crack. Holly mouthed sorry and hid the two pieces of her clipboard behind her. Ana quickly wrapped up the interview and told her camera man to erase the last part after Ryan's teasing.

Lauren glared at Holly before promising to give Ana another interview whenever she liked. "With Thomas away, my time is completely free."

Holly kept a business like tone. "Ms. Benefield exaggerates. Her time is filled with fittings and rehearsal. Thomas and Amanda left to scout out the filming locations." She winked suggestively at Ana. "Thomas made certain it was just the two of them."

Ana smiled warmly. "Lady Amanda does bring out a side in Thomas that I haven't seen before."

Addison joined them and gushed at that. "Holly and I were able to see firsthand their romance unfold." She sighed dramatically while placing the back of her hand on her forehead. "All the shy, longing looks and brush of hands was so cute. Ugh. I just wanted to tie them together and throw them in a candlelit room filled with rose petals."

Ana's interest piqued at the picture Addison painted. "I would love to get a rare exclusive of yours and Holly's perspective of their relationship. Not only would movie fans love it, but the people of Cordonia would very much like a peek into Lady Amanda's personal life. There have only been a few gentlemen to catch her eye in the past. Cordonians are in alt to see her not only married but so in love."

Lauren glared at the two who had turned her offering for scandal into some kind of love fest. She opened her mouth to only shut it when Ana said goodbye to everyone. "Don't forget Holly to set up a time for you and Addison to come by."

Once the reporter and crew were gone, Holly turned on Lauren. "You forgot to mention the title of the movie."

Lauren innocently covered her mouth. Her eyes widened. "Whoops. I will try and remember to do so the next time I am interviewed."

"Your contract specifically states you do so in every interview. Forget again, and I will inform Thomas." Holly warned.

"By all means," Lauren replied, her eyes narrowing. "Do tell Mr. Hunt. I believe he knows I am the only actress for the role. I'm sure whatever disciplinary actions he chooses will be the right ones."

She left without another word. Holly threw her broken clipboard down on the ground and stomped on it. "Aahhh! I HATE HER!"

Ryan knelt down and removed the sharp pieces embedded in her sandal. "You might need to go to our fencing session tonight and release your rage. The swords aren't nearly as dangerous as this."

Chris stepped back from the look on Holly's face. "I might develop food poisoning tonight and miss practice."

Ryan stood up and placed his hands on Holly's shoulders. "Hey, you've worked with horrible people before. Be grateful you don't have a passionate love scene with her like we do."

Chris checked to make sure they were actually alone. "Is there really no chance she could be replaced?"

"Not that we could find." Holly muttered.

Ryan slowly smiled. "We could if she voluntarily leaves."

Everyone stared at him. "What do you mean?" Addison asked. "The contracts are air tight."

Chris' eyes lit with excitment. "He's right! Thomas always has a clause that an actor has the right to leave with no penalty before filming begins."

Ryan nodded. "All we need is a more compelling reason for her to leave. And depending on how we time things, we might need to delay the start of filming by another week or two. I--" he looked down at Holly in surprise when she hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"You are officially my favorite actor now." She pulled her phone out. "Let me call in someone who I think can help us with this."

Half an hour later, Drake walked in. He was finishing a phone call and a wicked grin formed. "I've got Maxwell, Nadia, and Olivia coming. Liam is trying to finish a meeting so he shouldn't be too far behind. Tell me how we get rid of the problem."

Once the Cordonians and Hollywood group were assembled, Holly shared the situation they were currently in and the need to somehow get rid of Lauren.

Nadia spoke her confusion. "I understand why we want her gone, but I thought we needed her to stay because of the rumors. If she leaves, won't this reflect badly on Thomas and Amanda?"

"Not if she leaves for something she is excited and happy about." Holly explained. "She will then talk about it nonstop to the press. Once she does that and Thomas and Amanda continue to act happy and give statements how ridiculous the rumors are, everything will be solved."

Drake folded his arms and frowned. "What would make her happy? Other than offering her a box of kittens to torture, what would she want?"

The Hollywood group thought in silence for a few moments.

"She loves attention." Chris offered. "Is there something we could find that would give her more of it?"

Addison sat up, blue eyes sparkling with excitment. "She has been saying how much she wants to meet a noble who is proper and a good example to emulate. She also eyes Amanda's estate with envy. The last couple of fittings she has said that she was meant for the noble lifestyle. Is there a nobleman that could possibly not only meet her requirements but also sweep her off her feet? Someone who would demand she give all her time and attention to him."

Olivia snorted. "We know the perfect guy."

Drake looked up and an evil look came into his eyes. "If ever there were two people more perfect to torture each other..."

Maxwell's eyebrows lifted. "Do you think he would be willing to do it? He isn't exactly a fan of Amanda's and he had a tense moment before the Derby with Thomas."

Olivia smiled. "Leave it to me. I will have Lord Neville here tomorrow."

Drake chuckled. "I would give anything to see that pompous ass get what's coming to him."

Ryan leaned back in his chair. "Alright. That will hopefully turn out how you want. How are you going to postpone filming?"

The Cordonian group began to brainstorm together. Liam smiled, causing Addison to softly sigh and stare at him dreamily.

"The cabin." Liam suggested.

Drake nodded. "No WiFi."

"No cell service." Olivia muttered.

"No neighbors." Maxwell said with a grin.

"Blizzard like weather." Drake added. "I think that will do it. Ton of supplies in the basement so they will be fine for at least a month."

"What is the cabin?" Addison asked, still gazing at Liam.

"It is a place up in the mountians of Lythikos. Couples in the past would use it as a place to test their love for one another. I've kept it set up more as a place to escape from people when they annoy me."Olivia explained.

"How are you going to get Thomas and Amanda there?" Chris asked.

The duchess thought for a few seconds. "I never gave them a wedding gift. This will be a surprise for them. They are visiting Lythikos in a couple of days before the rest of the court arrives. I will get them there."

Maxwell shuddered at the cold, calculated expression on her face. "For the record, I am glad you are on our side and have this brilliant plan. But please, never prepare a surprise for me and Nadia."

Liam's brow furrowed with concern. "Wait a moment. If we are successful, we are then causing trouble for the movie. How do we keep production from coming to a complete halt?"

Addison grinned with her sudden idea. "I'll call Matt and have him come!"

Everyone looked at her in confusion. "Don't we need an actress to replace the role instead of an actor?" Maxwell asked.

"Yes we do. That is why I will have him bring his Tender Nothings costar. Holly thought she might be good for Elizabeth. Oh! And her coloring is very similar to Elizabeth's portrait." Addison pulled her phone out. "And sent." She grinned when her phone vibrated. "He's calling Jessica right now." Everyone watched her in fascination. "And they will be here by the end of the week."

Liam's smile of approval made her blush. "Brilliant work, Lady Addison. I feel better knowing we will not be adding additional work on Thomas."

The group broke apart with promises to meet the next day after Neville and Lauren's meeting. Ryan paused when he saw Drake pull Holly away to talk. He watched as she laughed and gently pushed him. After another nod, Drake left her smiling.

Ryan waited until she walked past. "Would you like to go grab some dinner with your favorite actor?"

Holly looked back with a smile. "Maybe another time, Ryan. I've got plans tonight."

"Oh." He followed her out and frowned when she yelled out goodbye and hurried off.

____________________

"This is incredible." Thomas turned around in the ruins of an ancient monastery. He took Amanda's hand and helped her over some rubble.

"This is where Elizabeth met with Arthur to tell him she was marrying Reginald." She reached out and gently touched one of the engravings on a half standing wall.

They walked through the parts of the stone building still intact. Amanda gave him a brief history of its construction in the 1600's. Thomas listened quietly, enjoying how expressive her face was and how she threw in interesting facts with the dry historical parts.

"Isn't this where Reginald and Arthur met to duel over her?" He asked.

"Yes. She was visiting her friend and confidant, the youngest daughter of the Duke of Castelsarreillan, when she learned of the duel. Lady Marija helped her sneak out and break up the fight." Amanda explained. She led him outside to an empty field that was framed by hills dotted with apple trees. "Here is where the duel was held. Elizabeth went into great detail in her journal about this. It was here she realized she was truly in love with Reginald. The love she had for Arthur had not lasted nor sustained her growing affection for Reginald. She also suspected that Marija might have feelings for Arthur."

"Was she the lady Arthur ended up marrying? The lady you said had the big dowry?"

"She was. Once they married, Marija and Elizabeth did not see each other as often as they used to. They would encounter each other at some of the court events and try to catch up. But from what Elizabeth hinted in her journals, it was hard on Marija having Arthur around the woman he had so passionately loved to the point of risking death and the Queen's anger again to be with her." Amanda sat down on one of rocks and tugged Thomas beside her.

His sharp, dark eyes took in the visual beauty that would come across perfectly on film and thought how amazing it was to stand in a spot where a piece of this story took place. His mind began to picture the duel with those from the portraits. What if Elizabeth had not stopped them in time? What if Reginald had been killed? What if Arthur had not relented in his pursuit? Or what if Elizabeth had not realized how much she loved Reginald? Fate seemed to make them meant for one another. He wrapped his arms around Amanda.

She rested her head on his shoulder while looking out at the rolling countryside. After a long silence only broken by the occasional chirping of birds, she tilted her face up toward his. "Well, what do you think?"

He looked down at her and softly smiled. "Beautiful."

"It really is. Do you think it’ll be good for filming?" She smiled when he kissed her. “Mr. Hunt! Are you taking advantage of having me alone?"

"I believe I am, Mrs. Hunt." His hands moved down her back while pulling her closer. "We've spent a couple of weeks surrounded by the upper echelons." His lips caressed hers as he spoke. "I think I will take advantage of every opportunity I find alone with you."

Her smile grew. "I could be very amenable to that." She surrenedered to the passionate kiss he started. A soft moan from her encourgaed him. His phone started vibrating with a call and he ignored it.

"Shouldn't you get that?" Amanda let out a surprised gasp when he lifted her on his lap.

He flashed a smile before kissing her neck. "I'm with the only one who's call I would stop anything over."

"Thomas." She kissed him for a long moment before getting up. "Come on. We still have another hour of driving before we get to the next spot."

He took her hand as they walked back to the car. Thomas leaned against her door and pulled her close. "What about tonight? How long until we will be at the hotel?"

Her cheeks turned pink at his heated stare and wandering hands. "We’re actually staying near the next scene location."

His lips curved before kissing her again. "Good." He pushed away from her door and opened it for her. As he walked to his side, he checked his phone and cleared it when he saw the missed call from Lauren. He wasn't going to give her the opportunity of ruining his trip through Cordonia with Amanda.