#oh an all the wacky shit that happened this weekend

[gold-medal-ribbon]

I swear y'all we only have 3 more weeks until spring break why do we gotta be so dramatic????

[happylandfill23]

idk what to ask so just… tell me whatever you want about your ocs

ooh i get to ramble about them :DD

ok so i basically have a bunch of different ocs who are all part of different stories n stuff so here's just some whose lives actually connect but have no real overarching story

⚠️ first off: there's some kinda heavy topics here that are listed before each character as well as in the tags, so please don't read if you're uncomfortable with them ⚠️

leviathan (levi)

tw: verbal abuse, transphobia

tw: verbal/physical abuse, sa

my most recent doodle dump had a character named levi, but he's actually a really old character who i made like 3 years ago. his name was originally gerard but i changed it to leviathan but he just goes by levi for short. his parents are divorced, and his sister lives with his dad while he lives with his mom. his dad sucks and is pretty verbally abusive toward levi, going as far as being openly transphobic around him (levi is trans), but his mom is much nicer. she's not the greatest mom, but she genuinely tries her best and really cares about levi. his sister, beatrice, is quite a bit younger than levi (he's 17 and she's like 8 or something) and i haven't developed her very far but she loves the muppets so i automatically love her. every other weekend levi has to stay with his dad while beatrice stays with her mom, which levi absolutely hates. he doesn't get to see bea very often, but they get along really well when they do get to see each other. oh he also plays the bass guitar and writes his own basslines in his room instead of actually making human interaction with his mom

charles

levi has a huge crush on his friend charles (haven't posted any drawings of him yet cuz i cannot get his hair right), who i created around the same time as levi. charles has had so much go wrong in his life and his friends are basically his only support system. his mother is an absolute piece of shit, first off. she's both verbally and physically abusive to both charles and his father (who died when he was about 10). she also refused to believe him when he told her about the sa he faced, even when given clear evidence. more has happened over the course of his 17 years of life, but i'm not gonna get into that quite right now. (mostly cuz i haven't fleshed all of it out yet but i have some general ideas)

like i mentioned earlier, levi likes charles. well charles also likes him but the two idiots are too oblivious to see it lol. the two of them just can't wrap their heads around the fact that there's even a possibility the other could like them, so who knows if anything's gonna happen with them (oh something will)

despite being a bit of a fantasy character mixed with all these more realistic characters, she's still part of this little wacky friend group and i love her

avalon

ok let's stray from the kinda depressing backstories for a moment to talk about one of my favorite ocs, avalon :)

sonya is only actually home about 5% of the time. she spends most of her time at avalon's house, or at her best friend ramona's house. she hates both of her parents and her brother's never home either, so she just chooses to wander. sonya isn't really a law abiding citizen, but she doesn't care. she's the friend who your parents think is the sweetest kid who you should invite over every day, but is actually the exact opposite when she's not around them. she started driving before she got her license, she's probably drank alcohol before, she dyes her hair both without her parents permission and directly in their bathtub (must be a pleasure coming home and finding the bathtub completely blue), and she plays her electric guitar at 1am with every setting on the amp turned up all the way. she's not the type of person you'd expect avalon to date, but the two just kinda click. they balance each other out nicely and they're really the only two people who've understood each other.

avalon is an elf girl who's dating another one of my ocs, sonya (i'll get to her later). i don't really have much about her backstory planned, but i wanted to talk about her anyway lol. she's mute, and has been since she was 13 (she's 16 now). because of this, she finds it hard to communicate with other people and tends to feel a bit like she's being ignored, but sonya always makes sure she's understood. she has an older sister, willow, who's very protective of avalon's safety. her parents, florian and rosa, are also pretty protective and try to make sure avalon stays out of trouble. because she's been safeguarded her whole life, she finds it hard sometimes to do things out in the world, and her mutism doesn't make it easier either. but she tries her best and finds new ways to do things almost every day. she usually just spends her time reading, baking apple pie, or kissing sonya though.

sonya

there are more ocs that i'd love to ramble about but i'm almost done my raccoon puzzle so if you have any more questions feel free to ask them!!

ramona

ramona is a bit similar to sonya in the sense that she's completely different around people other than her close friends. everyone perceives her as pretty much a "little miss perfect". she's in student council, she volunteers places, blah blah blah. in reality, she's fucking unhinged and will do anything in her power to bother her friends. it's just how she shows affection i suppose

[paopuofhearts]

Being at a convention this weekend, I actually had a kind of aha moment.

It's because people start to focus on empathy for a character - which, in turn, begins to erase what a character has done - and begin highlighting parts of a character that make them sympathetic - to the point where the character is no longer the same person.

The example I've gotten from this convention is a pretty cruel guy who's hell bent on colonization and conquest being reduced to "misunderstood scientist who creates wild and wacky things but became an outcast in his family". People focus heavily on inventing things and the emotional turmoil of being rejected by family - easy to empathize and sympathize - and the cool things he builds - easy to redeem and make look good. Then they COMPLETELY IGNORE THE FACT that these inventions were used to torture and kill people in his work to colonize a place, and that his family worked against him because he's, you know, murdering people in a whole bid of conquest.

So I had to watch as people dressed up in uniforms *based on the Confederacy* and do all this "praise _ / hail _" as a joke when like. Holy shit I did not expect to get the sudden feeling of 1940s Nazi Germany, or how this leads to people literally saying (and therefore thinking) "it totally doesn't matter that he oppressed people to commit genocide, *that happens all the time*, what matters is that he's hot".

NOW GRANTED plenty of people *don't do this shit*. But there are enough people who *do* where, in an online space? Yeah I'd be wary as *fuck* talking to people who might share those sentiments, because they might be the kind of people to say the reflections of humanity in the story don't matter anymore, as long as the character can be reduced to an object found appealing - because that mentality leads to a lot of fucked up arrested development and trashes your ability to actually acknowledge different perspectives and experiences with real world issues. (You stop treating people like people and instead view them as objects as well).

Again, it's not as big of a thing in the general sense, but damn - you can enough of that over and over again, and it's just exhausting to bother with, so you stop bothering with it. (Which, reducing stuff to that is a problem in itself - opposite side of the spectrum and all).

*On this fandom particularly, it's been a *huge* shock, because it's a tiny and niche fandom - but the fact that I brought this up at a Q&A and several people applauded me because they never thought of that before, when the creators have discussed it and it's blatently written and openly talked about by the character? Fuck off. Because don't get me wrong, this guy really *is* the most fascinating character, and I like digging into how he reflects a lot of dark shit about humanity that, in turn, teaches us things like "how to not let kids get caught up in new age faacism" and the like. But *very few people* seem to give a shit about that over "uwu family problems" that aren't really canon problems [like, if I had a family member that became a neo-Nazi and refused to listen to reason then attacked me? Fuck yeah I'd ditch them]. So yeah; having to parse out who is *that* kind of fan versus who is a *reasonable* fan takes a lot of effort and energy, and sometimes it's worth exploring to see which is which, other times I'm just gonna write people off and ignore them. It's the internet. I don't know you, and sometimes, I'm not going to have the effort and energy *to* invest in determining that, so - oh well.

How fandoms came from “villain is literally the most interesting character in the story” to “anyone who likes the villain supports real life crime” is truly beyond my comprehension.

[im-just-a-random-fandom-girl]

my life is full of WEIRD SHIT lately and so i’m going to tell you about it.

so last week, my parents and my aunt and uncle took me to vegas to celebrate my 21st (yes, my parents lol; life is weird when you are the oldest child, cousin, grandchild, etc on BOTH sides of your family) and on the plane ride there, i watched a spn episode called “criss angel is a douchebag.” i didn’t know who that was but figured he was an irl magician bc the episode had magicians in it. i don’t think much more about it. then we get to vegas, and there is a GIANT poster advertising criss angel’s magic show there! WEIRD! and the my aunt tells me we’re going to see his show that night!! WACKY COINCIDENCE

i’m in dc now because i’m interning here and i had my first day on thursday. an hour in, another intern is taking me on a tour of the building, and the first person i see is- i kid you not- george fucking santos. i like gave myself whiplash from not believing my own eyes lmao. and so now im going “oh shit, that’s like… a bad omen! the first politician i see is GEORGE SANTOS???” and everyone i talk to is like “no! it’s good, it means your internship will be exciting!” day goes on, and sure enough, it goes downhill. throat starts to hurt, they can’t set up my email for some reason, my end date on my badge is wrong, i can’t get into the computer, my shoes are TEARING into my heals… just not good. i’d previously thought that my throat hurt because of all the wildfire smoke, but when i get back to where i’m staying, i started to feel a bit of a fever coming on and i couldn’t stop coughing. one trip on the metro later to buy some tests and food (during which i probably made the security guards think i was a delirious druggie), i find out i have COVID. point is, i was right, george santos is bad fucking news in more ways than one and if you are an intern on the hill, watch your back lmao

then my parents drove down to dc to move my stuff into my apartment that i was supposed to move into over the weekend and which i of course no longer can bc i have covid, and my mom texts me saying my dad has made them stop to see the stairs from the exorcist. i think that’s hilarious, and don’t think much more of it. today i decide, hey, i have time and i’m feeling a little less like i’ve been beaten with a club and had my throat mauled by cats, i’ll watch ghosted! little did i know that THE MOVIE STARTS IN DC AND THE MAIN CHARACTERS RACE EACH OTHER UP THE EXORCIST STAIRCASE WITHIN THE FIRST 10 MINUTES OF THE MOVIE.

yeah. so we live in the matrix. i’ll update you if any other weird shit happens lmao

[thorniest-rose]

reddie halloween prompt #4 candy

It all happens in the small pocket of time between advanced math and the dirge of gym. Jimmy’s dragging his heels, hanging back in the bathrooms on the second floor, trying to delay the inevitable jeers of all the boys in his class. As they mock him for his weak knees and his protruding ribs, pinging their towels at him and asking him how small his dick is, if it’s even big enough to get hard.

But Jimmy knows it’s coming. After years of falling victim for his chronic acne, and his high-pitched voice, for sometimes just existing, he’s come to expect it.

What he doesn’t expect is to be cornered by Richie Tozier, the weird loudmouth with the dark eyes and the wide grin, who laughed like a jackal at his own vulgar jokes and could outsmart all of their teachers without trying.

Jimmy hadn’t spoken to Richie in more than two years, had done nothing to warrant the boy’s wrath. So he doesn’t know why he’s here now, wedged back against the window as Richie grins down at him. The wacky kid with buck teeth and bottle glasses who had somehow transformed into this tall, moody, striking teen with the cheekbones that could cut glass. Who all the girls secretly looked at as he walked down the hallway.

He asks, “W-what do you want, Richie?”

Richie grins at him like they’re friends. “I just thought we could catch up, Jimmy. I’ve seen you hanging out with your new girlfriend.”

Jimmy swallows hard. Was that what this was about?

“Oh yeah…”

“Oh yeah,” Richie mocks. “What, you think no one had noticed? That one of the hottest girls at school is suddenly hanging off your dick and no one would say anything?”

Jimmy shrugs, but his mouth has gone bone dry. He’d been dating Cindy for the last three weeks and it had sent ripples through school. Everyone was shocked. That someone as beautiful and popular as Cindy would even talk to a guy like Jimmy, let alone fall head over heels for him. At lunchtime she now ditched all her friends to sit in a corner of the cafeteria with him, and after school walked home with his hand in hers. At the weekend, they got ice cream and walked to the lake and sat in his backyard, and the entire time she looked at him with her big blue eyes, and told him she never wanted anything else. 

“It’s just curious, that’s all,” Richie continues, eyes glinting. “Pretty sure she hated your fucking guts a few months ago.”

“Things change, Richie.”

“Is that right,“ he replies, his dark eyebrows raised mockingly.

And Jimmy’s had enough. He gets enough shit from jock assholes as it is, without a weird fucking kid like Richie joining in.

“Richie, I really have to get to class. Gym is starting and if I’m late-”

Richie pushes him back against the wall with one hand to his chest. The skin on the back of his hand is mottled, scarred, and Jimmy’s chest tightens. The skin looks like it was run over with a sheet of barbed wire. 

“Hold your horses,” Richie says, “we haven’t finished catching up yet.”

Jimmy blurts, “Are you… are you jealous or something?”

“Nice try, dipshit, but no, I’m not jealous that you’re with a blonde airhead like Cindy. I need to know how you did it.”

Jimmy feels the bottom drop out of his stomach.

“What?”

“Come on,” Richie says, his mouth unfurling into a slow, smoky grin, “don’t wuss out on me now.”

“Cindy has feelings for me.”

Richie barks and rolls his eyes. "Unless you’re seriously packing down there, I doubt that.”

“I mean it, we have a real connection.”

The good humour drops from Richie’s face.

“Bullshit,” he hisses, making Jimmy flinch. “I know you did something. No way would she even fucking look at a little creep like you if you hadn’t done something to her. So you’re either paying her, but I know your parents are piss poor so it’s not that. Maybe you’re blackmailing her, but you’re too pussy for that too. So it has to be something else.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmy splutters, feeling like he’s going to wet himself. 

He’d heard things about Richie over the last few years. That he got his scars from some unknown childhood trauma, that he’d been kidnapped and tortured by a crazy man. Jimmy didn’t know how true any of that was, but he couldn’t deny the mad glint in Richie’s eyes. That his smiles were always slightly too manic to be good-natured. That when he laughed it sent chills through him. 

“Are you going to beat me up? Tell Cindy? Try to reverse the spell?”

He regrets it the second it’s out his mouth, but Richie’s eyes shine, like he’d guessed the twist in a movie before everyone else. 

“I knew it,” he says.

Panic grips Jimmy; it catapults him halfway across the bathroom, but Richie is too fast for him. Before he can make it to the door, he feels a hand on his backpack and a second later he’s being thrown back towards the sinks. He crashes back, stumbling, and almost falls to the floor. And Richie just stares at him, a dead heat lighting up his eyes. One brown and one blue. 

“Please, let me go, Richie,” Jimmy says, half crumpled against the sinks. He cringes at the whimpering note in his voice, how close he sounds to begging.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why? Are you going to blackmail me?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“What do you want? I don’t have anything to give you. I don’t have money.”

Richie’s lips draw back in a snarl. “Are you really that fucking stupid? I’m here because I want you to do it for me too.”

Jimmy blinks at him. He didn’t think Richie would have any problems with girls. Not with the way they had started to look at him.

His mind flicks through the girls in their year, tries to settle on anyone Richie might like. But he’d never seen Richie pay attention to any girls he knew. Come to think of it, he didn’t think Richie ever had a girlfriend.

“You do…? On who?”

Richie doesn’t hesitate as he says, “Eddie Kaspbrak.”

Jimmy feels his mouth drop open. He says, “You’re… you’re a fag?”

Richie’s face goes dark, and Jimmy’s vision blacks out as Richie’s fist smashes into the side of his mouth. He staggers back, his head cracking against the wall, and distantly he hears himself cry out as a searing bolt of pain shoots through his skull.

When he comes to, his vision blotting hazily at the corners, Richie’s wiping his bloody knuckles against his jeans. 

“Maybe we should try that again,” he says, tone mild, like he hadn’t just punched Jimmy in the face. “But if you say that fucking word one more time, I’ll push you out the window.”

Jimmy’s eyes prickle hot as the blood drips down his mouth. He thinks he might cry.

Richie notices and he sneers at him. “God, you’re such a fucking pussy. I could do a lot worse than that, you know.”

“I don’t know if I can do the spell again.”

And he didn’t. Jimmy had found the spell in an old tome he’d found in a dark basement bookstore two towns over. A place he heard whispers about. He hadn’t even thought the spell would work. But it had. He’d walked out of his house the next morning and Cindy had been on his doorstep, so happy and eager to see him Jimmy initially thought it had been a joke. But it hadn’t. She was besotted.

Richie looks unamused as he pulls an old lighter out of his pocket. 

“You better remember,” he says, as he flicks it on, the orange flame making Jimmy jump. “Or I’ll have to help you jog your memory.”

“I… I guess I could try,” he mumbles as he watches the flame burn in Richie’s hand.

Richie shakes his head. “You’ll need to do better than that.” He flicks the lighter off and on again. “Have you been burned before? I read once that being set on fire is the most excruciating pain you can ever feel. I wonder if Cindy will still feel the same about you if she can’t recognise you. Spell or no spell.”

Desperation claws at Jimmy’s throat and he quickly blurts, “Okay, I’ll do it, I will.”

Richie flicks the lighter off. “Good,” he says. 

And a part of Jimmy, though surprised, gets it, because Eddie was beautiful. Over the last year he’d blossomed from a sick little boy into something slender and sweet, with long tanned legs and the thickest lashes Jimmy had ever seen. There was a rumour going around school that Eddie was prettier than most girls, and that they all hated him for it. Not that he seemed to notice. He went to his classes and ran with the track team, and was always quiet and serene, apart from the times he saw Richie. When his expression went icy and his tone turned brittle.

Jimmy still can’t help but ask, “Why him?”

"Because he’s everything,” Richie replies. 

Jimmy doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead he says, “I’ll need something of his. For the spell to bind to him.”

“No problem.”

Richie takes a small locket of dark hair out of his pocket. Jimmy stares at it. He doesn’t want to know how Richie got it. How he already had it on him. 

“There are risks, I need you to know that,” he says as Richie hands it to him. 

Richie just stares at him, looking bored. “I don’t really care.”

“But it might not work. Or it could go wrong. Sometimes these spells… sometimes they don’t turn out the way we expect them to.”

And Jimmy was telling the truth. He’d heard some terrible things. Sometimes the spell didn’t take, and sometimes it took too well, driving the enchanted lover to the edges of hysteria, so obsessed with the object of their affections that they couldn’t eat or sleep. That they couldn’t function without being with the person who had cast the spell.

“Just do whatever it takes,” Richie says, his brown eye so dark it looked almost black. “I want him to be crazy for me. So crazy that he needs me, all the time. I don’t want him to think of anything else but me. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jimmy says quietly. And for some reason he feels ashamed. 

He jumps again when he feels Richie clap his hand down on his shoulder.

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard was it? You have a week. Or I’ll tell everyone what you’ve done. And your cute new girlfriend won’t be able to stand the sight of you.” He grins at Jimmy. "Sound good?”

“Yeah,“ Jimmy says, head nodding stupidly even as his stomach churns. “Sounds good.”

“Cool, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

On his way out, Richie gestures to Jimmy’s nose. “You might want to clean that up by the way. Get a cotton bud up there.”

In the silence following Richie’s departure, Jimmy stares at himself in the mirror and doesn’t recognise the pale, pleading face staring back at him. He thinks he might be sick, but instead he mops up the blood oozing from his nose and goes to gym.

A week later, he hides around a corner as he watches Richie hand Eddie the candy: a little bag of pink love hearts knotted at the top with a ribbon. Inside, one of the love hearts is special. Nestled inside the sugar is a drop of lamb’s blood, crushed belladonna, and the membrane of a baby bird. The potion Jimmy had made and injected into the candy the night before, the potion that would turn Eddie’s blood molten for Richie.

Eddie asks, "Why, Richie?" 

"Can’t I treat you, baby?” Richie replies.

“Don’t call me that please.”

Eddie looks at the candy dubiously at first, but eventually he can’t resist, and he takes it from Richie with a mumbled thanks.

Jimmy has a thought of ducking round the corner and running down the hall, slapping the candy from Eddie’s hands just in time, of saving him. But he doesn’t. Because he’s a coward. So he hangs back and watches instead. Watches as Eddie takes the special love heart, the one that’s pinker and plumper than the rest, and pops it into his mouth. 

The change is instantaneous. Eddie’s body goes suddenly taut, as if his limbs are being pulled together by a string, and his eyes go bright and glossy as he stares up at Richie. The frown between his eyes melts away, and in its place his expression softens, his mouth pink and lax as he mouths Richie’s name. 

Jimmy feels like he’s going to throw up. He spins around and starts walking away just as he hears Eddie say, “Richie,” like he’s seeing the other boy for the first time. Like Richie is a bright, burning sphere of sunshine in an endless night. He walks down the hallway and all the way home. Tosses and turns all night with half-snatched dreams.

And the next day, when he comes across the two boys making out in the woods, Eddie’s mouth so wet and red as Richie bites at it, his hands grabbing as Eddie through his jeans while the smaller boy gasps, Jimmy doesn’t do anything. And when Richie’s eyes meet his over Eddie’s head, swimming with mirth, and something like greed, Jimmy stumbles and runs. He runs and runs, and not once does he ever think to look back.

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Crying ‘Cause I Love You

A/N: Hey everyone! I have a lot of school work to do rn so I won’t be able to write for another couple days, but I just posted something with Chris and I wrote this with Henry Cavill a while ago and thought I’d share to hopefully tide everyone over. Thanks for reading and requesting! 💕

Summary: Henry and his girlfriend are getting ready for a night out, and Henry was finally going to tell his girlfriend he loves her, but Kal has other ideas.

-

           “You look beautiful,” Henry beamed at his girlfriend, eyes shining with nothing but pride in them, as he watched her curl her last piece of hair and unplug the wand. She always looked at him like he was her entire world, and this was no different. The stars in her eyes matched the gems in her ears and around her neck, her dress dark blue and perfectly matched to his suit. She was perfect.

           “Only the best for my Prince Charming,” she replied sweetly. She wanted to hug him, but she didn’t want to crunch her hair. “Are you ready?”

           “Just looking for my cuff links. Would you mind locking up? And re-filling Kal’s bowl?” Henry was starting to take his tie from where he had it hung on his arm, but it was too long. Henry’s beloved Akita nipped at the tie until it was in his mouth, and Henry barely even noticed until he reached for it. Kal was such a shadow, always nudging at Henry’s legs, that it was easier to notice when he wasn’t there.

           “Kal! Give Daddy back his tie!” She scolded, reaching for the dog. Instead he wanted to play with it, and promptly turned his head away. “I’ll get him.” She stood on her toes to kiss her boyfriend’s cheek. She then exchanged places with him as he continued searching for his cuff links. The bathroom was wrecked with evidence of her – her makeup, her curling wand, her pins. He took her lip gloss that she left, knowing she would want it and she’d hate herself forever if she didn’t have it. She was staying with him for the wrap party, but had enough things for the whole weekend because somebody needed to drop Kal off at the groomer’s. Henry would look around and just smile. Finally, all of the empty space in his life was full. She was like a puzzle piece, he thought, and he wanted her to stay. That night he had planned to tell her he loved her for the first time. Part of him thought it would be when they were drunk at the party, or on the way home when they were in the back of a car and she would fall asleep on him. Or maybe it would be when she was buried in the corner of his bed. But he was going to tell her, he had to. And that’s what he was thinking about when he heard a smack. It was loud, and unmistakably skin against a hard surface.

           “Shit,” he murmured, turning to the stairs. Kal was standing at the bottom of the stairs, tie in his mouth, and his girlfriend was standing there, in the doorway to the living room. “Baby?”

           “I’m okay!” She declared with a whimper. Her hand flew to her nose as a single drop of blood made its way onto her skin. Blood. Oh, shit. “Okay, maybe I’m not. Ow.” She was starting to cry, leaning against the doorway, and Henry’s feet carried him over to her.

           “What happened? Let me look,” Henry said, raising his hands to her face. He turned into a protective boyfriend, instantly, as he gently took her hand away from her face and cupped her cheek with his other hand. Her nose was most definitely broken, blood gushing out of it and onto her hand.

           “Ow,” she whined, “I think it’s broken.”

           “Yeah, darling, I think it is. We need to get you to the emergency room.”

           “But what about your wrap party?” She asked. Henry walked into the bathroom underneath the stairs, grabbing a hand towel, and brought it back to her. He put it against her nose.

           “It’s perfectly alright. Just don’t take pressure off, I’m going to get the car keys.” He promptly ran to the kitchen to find his keys, and when he did, he raced back to them. “I’ll deal with you later,” he said to the dog as he picked up their two phones from the chargers. He slipped one of them into his pocket and the other into her hand when he met her again.

           “This hurts,” she cried out. Her mascara was starting to run, messing up the makeup she’d spent a full hour on, as Henry walked her out to the car and got her in. He shut her door before shutting his own, turning the car on. After a minute of tense driving down the cobblestone street, he heard a noise. His eyes flew over to her, worried something else had happened, but it wasn’t a cry. It was a laugh.

           “Are you laughing? Or crying?” He asked, half-worried that she’d hit her head, too. He took his hand off of the steering wheel after a turn and placed it in between her thighs at the slit in her dress, not even thinking to adjust the air so she wouldn’t be cold.

           “Both,” she winced as she pushed at her nose harder. “I found a meme.” Henry rolled his eyes, but smiled.

            “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

           “I’ll never understand that,” she answered in response.

           “You’ll hurt more if you don’t stop laughing.” Her smile faded and she went back to holding her nose. Henry considered himself luck that the closest emergency room was just down the street and around a corner, because he was really starting to think she’d hit her head as she smiled at another meme on what looked like Instagram.

           Henry pulled into the hospital and grabbed the parking ticket, shoving it in his dashboard. He then stopped the car and put it into reverse, trying to back into the spot. He looked behind him, placing his hand on the back of her seat.

           “You’re really hot when you back up,” she said. Henry’s eyebrows furrowed with worry.

           “I’m starting to think you have concussion, too. How hard did you hit that wall?”

           “Ask Kal,” she scoffed in response. Henry turned the car off and went to get her from the passenger side, then walked her in. He instructed her to go sit down, thankful that the place was nearly empty on a Thursday night at 9 PM. He got into the line and was handed a tablet to fill out her information on, and took a seat beside her. She was still in her dress, hair still curled, and she leaned her head on Henry’s shoulder as he started typing.

           “What’s your birthday, darling?” He asked. “I know the month, I forgot if it’s the thirteenth…”

           “Fifteenth,” she answered. The tears were starting to come to her eyes again as her nose throbbed. “It’s starting to really hurt.”

           “We’ll get you in, don’t worry.” He spoke as quietly as he could, noticing a sleeping child in one corner of the room. He hated hospitals, he remembered, but he was too stressed about the fate of his love’s nose to worry about it. He finished typing and brought it back to the nurse at the front desk, sitting back down beside his girlfriend. He put his arm behind her head, letting her lean into him again. His shirt could get bleached if it got blood on it, he decided. She shut her eyes, trying not to cry any more, as Henry took out his phone to text his friend that they weren’t going to make it because his dog had decided to be an absolute menace. And then he texted his neighbor, asking if they would mind watching the house. And then he turned to his girlfriend and kissed her.

           The nurse called her name a few minutes later, just as Henry’s neighbor was texting him that he would be over to the house to set the alarm in a minute. Henry helped his girlfriend walk through until they were sitting her down to take her blood pressure. She cringed when they took blood from her arm, but didn’t need Henry to hold her hand. Another nurse showed them to an exam room and took her insurance card, leaving her alone with Henry.

           “I’m sorry I ruined your wrap party,” she said. Henry chuckled.      

           “That’s not what I’m worried about right now. I’m worried about your nose.”

           “Will you still think I’m pretty if it’s broken?” He looked over at her.

           “I will still think you’re the prettiest girl in the world if your nose is broken,” he assured her. He took her hand and squeezed it, kissing her again his as the nurse walked back in.

           “You’re lucky the swelling isn’t worse,” the nurse said after inspecting her nose, “but it does need to be re-set.”

           “Can’t I just be ugly?” She groaned, looking over at Henry. “You said you’d think I’m pretty anyway.”

           “Can you check for a concussion, too?” Henry asked. “She’s being a little… wacky.”

           “I hate you.” The nurse laughed.

           “Alright, just relax.” After another painful crack, her nose was fixed, and the nurse was giving her a prescription for stronger medication than what Henry had. There was no concussion, either – she’d just had too many glasses of wine at dinner. They were alone again, waiting for papers, and she had reached her arms out to hug Henry. The guilt of the entire night possessed him to kiss her face, over and over again, before sighing.

           “Can I tell you something?” He asked as he hugged her.

           “What?” She asked. He could smell her perfume going in and out of her nose.

           “I was going to tell you I love you tonight. Because I am. I do. I love you. And I’m sorry your nose got broken.”

           “I can’t believe it took my nose being broken for you to say it,” she replied. A smile teased at her lips. “I love you too, Cavill.”

           “I’m sorry my dog is such an asshole sometimes.”

           “So are you,” she remarked. “I forgive him. And at least this means I have an excuse to get a nose job.” Henry chuckled and kissed her. He was overloading her with kisses and she didn’t mind. If he gave her this many kisses hen she was hurt, maybe she should let Kal knock her over more often. Henry accepted the papers the nurse handed him when she came back in, and helped his girlfriend back out to the car. He took her hand this time, squeezing it as he watched her scroll through her phone again.

           “Why do you love me?” She asked. “I’m such a mess.” Henry laughed and squeezed her hand tighter.

           “Because you are the only person I know that would have a broken nose, laugh on the way to the emergency room, and forgive the dog who did it.” He smiled at her, even though it was too dark to see her face really, and let go of her hand as he pulled into the pharmacy. He looked over at her as he was halfway home, surprised to see that she was asleep. So he didn’t wake her. Instead he opened her door and took her out of it, picking her up and carrying her with absolute ease.

           “You were a bad boy tonight,” he told Kal as he walked into the house. “Be quiet so she can sleep. She’s on the medicine you made them give her.” She didn’t stir when Henry laid her down on the bed, or when he took her dress off her shoulders. But she did when he walked into the bathroom, removing the cufflinks he had nervously put on at the hospital. They clinked on the vanity and Henry looked behind him as he heard the rustling of the bed covers.

           “Henry?” She asked tiredly.

           “Yes, my darling?” He asked as he looked behind him.

           “Will you still love me after I get a nose job?”

           “I would love you if you got a thousand nose jobs.” He walked back over to her, tucking her in, and pressed a gentle kiss to her swollen nose. “Good night, my love.”

[365days365movies]

January 24, 2021: Speed Racer (2008) (Part 1)

Car Action Weekend Concludes!

Anime! As I’m sure Tumblr is aware, Japan’s most famous television format has spread far and wide, especially in the United States. It started on American TV with Astro Boy in 1963. A few series premiered after that, but one of the series that made the biggest splash was a little show about a boy, his girlfriend, his friend, his father, his little brother, and his little brother’s chimpanzee.

Oh, also cars or something.

Mach GoGoGo, AKA Speed Racer in the USA, was a classic series about car racing, with wacky enemies, crazy cars, and about a year’s worth of runtime. Still, it lasted for YEARS, to the extent that I remember watching it at some point in the early 2000s! But I didn’t grow up with it. The Wachowskis, however, might have.

Oh yeah, it’s THESE gals. Directors and creators of the Matrix, the Wachowskis were looking to direct a more family-friendly movie, and hopped onto a Speed Racer adaptation that’d been in development for years. Since 1992, Warner Bros had been trying to bring the enigmatic racecar driver to life, with Johnny Depp as the lead...in 1995. 

He left, though, and actors Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Shia LaBeouf, and Zac Efron would be considered over the years. For the director, Julien Temple, Gus Van Sant, Alfonso Cuaron, and Hype Williams were recommended. Eventually, though, the Wachowskis would accept the job, and Emile Hirsch was brought into the project, alongside a surprising cast. But, we’ll get there. 

So why Speed Racer for this month? Why not save this for Sports November? Or, better yet, why watch this at all? Honestly...I wanted to do this one. Mostly because in recent years, it’s become controversial with reviewers and critics. Why? Well, lets get into it, rather than explain here! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Speed Racer - yes, Speed Racer (Emile Hersch), that is his ACTUAL NAME - is awaiting an upcoming race, when we get a glimpse into his past. A distracted kid at school, much to the dismay of his mother, Mom (Susan Sarandon), he’s not doing great at school, thinking only about races and his brother, Rex (Scott Porter).

In a legitimately neat touch, he daydreams being in a race, with the original Speed Racer theme song playing in the background. His daydream is bright and colorful, and looks like it’s drawn by a little kid. Which is funny, because the entire movie has a cartoon aesthetic, it turns out.

We’ll see if I get used to THAT. He gets in the car with Rex, and they go to the RIDICULOUS racetrack, holy shit. It’s like Mario Kart in here. From the track, we transition to the modern day. The world is watching, as Speed Racer tears up the track, and also as I GET A SEIZURE GAAAAAAAAH. This is an insanely colorful world with some very confusing and complicated visuals. This movie is...something, that’s for sure.

During the race, we find out that something happened to Rex 8 years ago, during which Rex set the track record. We also meet his girlfriend, Trixie (Christina Ricci), father, Pops (John Goodman), brother Spritle (Pauline Litt), and...chimpanzee, Chim Chim (Willy and Kenzie, interchangeably, YES I CREDITED THE CHIMPS). Speed Racer. I keep forgetting that this is Speed Racer.

More flashbacks to the past show us how Trixie and Speed met, as well as a STRAIGHT UP MURDER ATTEMPT WHAT

Whoof; cutthroat business, that racing stuff. Rex leaves Racer Motors as a result, and leaves Speed his car, apparently turning to the dark side by taking out other racers with increasingly dirty tactics. This lasted until a brutal crash that apparently killed him. But, if you know your Speed Racer mythos even a little...

Back to the race, where Speed is about to beat his brother’s record, but purposely slows down just enough. In any case, he wins the race, as a shadowy figure that totally isn’t his alive brother watches on.

The next morning, the family, Trixie, and road manager Sparky (Kick Gurry) are having breakfast. They’re interrupted by E.P. Arnold Royalton, esq. (Roger Allam), an executive who’s come to recruit Speed, proposing to act as a sponsor for not just Speed, but for Racer Motors. While Pops isn’t inclined to sign up with a big company, Royalton’s offer is intriguing enough for them to go to MY EYES!!!!

OH CHRIST MY EYES WHAT THE HELL

OK, look, this film is gorgeous, and also looks like Robert Rodriguez’s imagination vomited all over the screen. Seriously, I appreciate the artistry here, but...OW. And this ENTIRE SEQUENCE is an exercise in my visual tolerance for 2008-era graphics and ridiculously bright colors.

The Racers are taken for a dizzying journey through Royalton Industries, and my entire brain is melting, God. After the tour, Pops tells Royalton that, while his money intimidates him, he’s open to an alliance between RI and Racer Motors. And then, we transition from the bright and poppy world of Royalton Industries, to - 

YO WHAT??? Talk about a complete opposite tone! This crime boss, Cruncher Block (John Benfield), is beating and torturing a driver, Taejo (Rain), and he’s pretty obviously bloodied. Before feeding Taejo’s hands to his pet CGI piranhas (yes, really), they’re interrupted. Also, did I mention that this office is INSIDE OF A MOVING TRUCK WHAT.

The intruder is the mysterious Racer X (Matthew Fox), who takes down their battle truck with his car’s weaponry. And I gotta say, this is a neat, if extremely wacky, battle sequence. Cruncher throws Taejo out of the truck, only for Racer X to save him and try to recruit him to stop Cruncher. He might be a bit of a vigilante, it would seem.

While Speed and Trixie have a romantic getaway - which is spoiled by an intruding Spritle and Chim Chim - a shady deal between Royalton and a competitor is taking place, revealing that he isn’t entirely on the up-and-up. The next day, Speed meets with Royalton, thinking on signing the contracts. He decides not to, citing an interaction with his father from shortly after Rex’s death, and stating that he couldn’t abandon his family like that.

Royalton’s not very happy about that, though, and taps into his inner Tim Curry something FIERCE. He monologues on the invention of the modern racing league, as well as the financial implications of races through history. In other words, racing’s about power and money, and he reveals that races like the Grand Prix are rigged from the get-go. And SMACK-DAB in the middle of that villain monologue:

A sugar high. The editing of this film is hyperactive, I swear. Forgot to mention that Spritle and Chim Chim snuck into RI with Speed to steal candy - yes, really - and discover that the cars being built by RI have dirty tricks literally built in. Speed turns Royalton down, and Royalton tells him that Speed won’t win or even place in the next race, which we cut to immediately.

Taejo from earlier is racing, and gets in a crash that he somehow survives? Speed also crashes and loses, as predicted by Royalton, which destroys the Mach 6. This leads to Racer Motors being sued for copyright infringement, disgracing them in the media. He also speaks to Ben Burns (Richard Roundtree), one of his racing heroes, and finds out that his classic race was indeed rigged in his failure. This, of course, breaks Speed’s racing spirit.

After a pep talk from Mom, Racer Motors gets a visit from Racer X and Inspector Detector (Benny Furmann), who ask Speed for help. Taejo’s asked them for help, but only if Racer X and Speed help. Unfortunately, the race is on the same dangerous track that Rex died on. However, if they win, it will cause trouble for the crime boss Crusher and his secret ally, Royalton. While Pops fiercely objects, Speed goes in secret, with Trixie as support.

Speed finally wears the classic Speed Race outfit while in the classic car, they go to the race track, and I STROKE OUT AGAIN GODDAMIVWHBROVQJQ

And somehow THIS IS ONLY HALF OF THE GODDAMN MOVIE. See you in Part 2!

[platonicteenwolf]

Wolf Moon (S1E1) Part II

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: Let me know if any of the links are wacky or if I mess up on any of the pronouns cause posting three versions is sometimes a bit confusing so I can fix it if needed. Also lmk if there’s a misspelling or grammar issue too :)

They/Them Pronouns Version

He/Him Pronouns Version

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: dead body, swearing

Lacrosse stick strapped to his backpack, Scott pedals into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School among the swarm of students. Skateboarders jump steps, potheads take barely concealed tokes, girls and guys hold hands, guys and guys hold hands, (yes it’s California.)

As Scott pulls his bike to one of the racks to lock it up, a pristine BMW with a license plate that reads: JCKSN37, blazes into the lot and stops in the space next to the racks. Scott, still kneeling, gets bumped in the back when the driver’s side door opens.

Jackson Whittemore, exceptionally good-looking and usually oblivious to anyone not within his social or financial circle, steps out to notice that Scott hit his car by being near it.

“Dude. Watch the paint job.”

He’s completely unaware of hitting Scott as he grabs his own lacrosse equipment.

“Yo Jackson!”

Hearing his favorite word, Jackson looks up and heads over to meet his friends. All good looking jocks with big smiles and expensive cars, pretty girls coming up to say hello.

—————

A school bell rings outside a brick building swarming with students.

“Alright let’s see this thing,” Stiles says, a little too eagerly. Now standing in front of the school, Scott takes off his backpack and pulls his shirt up a few inches to show Stiles and I the bandage on his lower back.

“Oh damn that looks bad!” I reach out to touch it and Scott flinches back. “Oops, sorry”

“It was too dark to see much but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

Scoffing, Stiles countered “A wolf bit you? No, not a chance.”

“I heard a wolf howling.”

”No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean ‘No, I didn’t?’ How do you know what I heard?”

Jumping in, I explained, “California doesn’t have wolves. Not for the last sixty years. The animals were almost hunted to extinction in the 1920s California Gold Rush.” Both boys looked at me in surprise. “What,” I questioned, “I like history.”

Seemingly accepting that answer Scott continued on. “Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I saw the body.”

“Holy shit!” This was amazing!

“You what? Are you kidding me!?” He almost looked like a kid who just found the hidden candy cabinet.

“I wish. I’m going to have nightmares about it for a month.”

There was still one thing I’ve been wondering about though, “Which half of the body was it?”

“Oh- it was the top half. I saw her dead eyes staring back at me. It was scary.” Scott shuddered, thinking about her lifeless body laying in the forrest.

“Well I think that’s freaking awesome,” Stiles concluded. “This is seriously the best thing that’s happened to this town since...”

Stiles suddenly got very distracted by something behind Scott. I turned around to see what it is and you’ll never guess.

“...since the birth of Lydia Martin who’s walking toward us right now.”

A drop-dead gorgeous junior named Lydia Martin was walking towards the school doors like it was a fashion show runway in Milan. Stiles has had the biggest crush on Lydia ever since we were kids.

“Hey Lydia, how are you? You look--” She walks right past him not even giving him a second glance. “...like you’re going to ignore me.”

Scott chuckled at his failed attempt in flirting with the girl as I pat him on his shoulder.

“You’ll get her next time champ.” Stiles shot me an unappreciative glare as I held my hands up in defense and he started grumbling about how unfair everything was.

“You guys are the cause of this, you know. Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlet-nerded by you.”

As we reach the steps of the school I get ready to part with the dynamic duo to get to my class. “Alright boys, I’ve got first with Harris so I’ll see y’all later.” Mentions of good luck were lost behind me as I entered the thick crowd ready to start the day.

—————

First period English. Scott takes the desk next to Stiles as the teacher, Mr. Curtis starts writing instructions on the chalkboard.

“As you all know by now, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night. I’m sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened but I’ve been told that the police have a suspect in custody.”

Scott looks to Stiles who shrugs, news to him as well.

“Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus on your desk outlining the semester. Read it now. And by read I don’t mean skim.”

As the students begin reading a cell phone starts ringing out of nowhere. Scott glances up and looks around. The other students quietly read the syllabus, seemingly not hearing the noise. Gazing about, he can’t seem to find the source until his eyes fall on the windows of the classroom...

Outside - across the quad, Scott sees a girl sitting on a bench who he will come to know as Allison Argent. Sixteen and radiating with an innocent beauty. When she puts the cell phone to her ear, it becomes obvious that, despite the closed windows and the distance, this is the ringing Scott is somehow able to hear.

More astonishingly, Scott can hear both Allison and her caller.

“Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it,” Allison teased.

“Just making sure you’re there okay and you’ve got everything you need.” But Allison digs through her bag, becoming alarmed.

“Everything except a pen. Oh my God, I didn’t actually forget a pen.”

“Don’t panic. I’m sure you can borrow one from another student.”

“Okay, okay, I gotta’ go. Love ya.”

Unable to take his eyes off the extraordinary girl, Scott watches the school’s principal join her on the steps.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The Principal guides her across the quad, their conversation becoming clearer to Scott with every step.

“So you were saying San Francisco isn’t where you grew up?”

“No, but we stayed for more than a year which is unusual in my family.”

Even when Allison and the Principal disappear from view, Scott hears the clatter of the building door opening, the clicking of their heels on the tile floor of the hall.

“Well, hopefully, Beacon Hills is your last stop for a while.” The door to the classroom opened, causing the rest of the class to look up.

The principle turns to address the room. “Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

Scott barely breathes as Allison heads for the one empty desk left in the room. Right behind him. She puts her notebook down, then glances up to see Scott turned toward her. Holding out a pen. With a relieved but curious smile, she takes it from him.

“Thanks.”

Scott gives her a nod, turning around with a proud expression. Looking up at the front of the room, Mr. Curtis stands up to start the lesson.

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s metamorphosis on page 133...”

—————

The school bell rings throughout the halls indicating its time to move to your next class. As I walked out of my classroom I spotted Stiles coming out of his. Jogging towards him to catch up, I shout his name to grab his attention. Whipping his head around he greets me with the classic, dopey, Stilinski smile. “Hey bub, what’s up?” I ask.

Rolling his eyes at the nickname, he grumbles all about how boring his English class was. “...oh! And there’s a new girl at school today!”

Interesting, I thought. Spotting Scott in the distance we both quicken our pace to meet with him at his locker.

—————

As he grabs his lock to open the door, Scott hears Allison just down the corridor. Looking towards where she stands they connect eyes. She starts to smile, recognizing the cute guy who gave her the pen. But then Lydia Martin swoops in front of her.

“That jacket is absolutely killer. Where did you get it?”

“My Mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” Allison explains.

Suddenly Jackson, Lydia’s boyfriend, walks up to the pair and puts his arm around Lydia and she greets him with a kiss.

Turning back towards his locker, Scott spotted Y/N and Stiles walking up to him.

—————

Looking at the Alpha Male and his arm candy across the hall, I turn towards the boys with a confused look on my face.

“Can someone tell me how the new girl is here all of five minutes and she’s already hanging with Lydia’s clique?”

“Because she’s hot. Beautiful people herd together,” Stiles answers. He’s got a point. He steps up to open his own locker next to Scott’s.

“Is that why Lydia isn’t herding with you?”

“Lydia’s a long term project, okay? And trust me, I’ve got all the patience in the world for a high yield investment like her.”

You’ve got to give him credit. He’s committed.

—————

Head cocked slightly, Scott tunes into the conversation from the other end of the corridor, voices coming into focus.

“So,” Lydia exclaims, “this weekend there’s a party.”

“A party?”

Jackson leaned on the lockers next to him, arm now wrapped around Lydias torso. “Yeah, Friday night. You should come.”

“I can’t. It’s Family Night this Friday. But thanks for asking.”

“You sure? Everyone’s going after the scrimmage”

“You mean like football?”

“Football is a joke at Beacon. The sport here is Lacrosse. We won the state championship the last three years--“

Cutting in Lydia praises, “Because of a certain team captain.”

“We have practice in a few minutes,” Jackson explains. “You don’t have to be anywhere, do you?”

“Well, no, I was just going--“

Lydia claps her hands in excitement, “Perfect! You’re coming.”

—————

A whistle blowing echoes across the field. The Lacrosse Team’s Coach gathers the team on the field, Stiles and Scott lagging behind.

“But if you play I’ll have no one to talk to on the bench! You really gonna’ do that to your best friend?”

“Hey! No fair.” I look toward Stiles pouting when he gives me an obnoxious look.

“You don’t count.” I shoved him sticking my tongue out and watched as Stiles accidentally collided with Scott.

“Oops sorry Scott,” I apologize.

With an amused smile after watching our banter Scott continued his argument. “I can’t sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line.” He heads for the field, pausing to see Lydia climbing the bleachers. And stepping right behind her... Allison.

I look towards the boy and follow his gaze behind me where I see the girls sitting. “Hey,” I nudged Stiles who was busy putting all his gear down around him in a destructive manner. “I think Scott’s got a crush on the new girl.”

“What? What makes you say that?”

“Look!” I point towards where Scott stands, still starring dreamily at Allison, but he’s suddenly interrupted when a lacrosse stick hits him in the chest.

“McCall! You’re in the goal.”

Scott turns to Coach Bobby Finstock, a man with little comprehension of the difficulties of teenage life. He tosses Scott the bundle of goalie equipment.

“But I’ve never played goal.”

“I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing. Get them energized, fired up!”

“What about me?”

“Try not to take any in the face.”

This is not gonna end well, I think to myself.

—————

Stepping into the net, Scott glances to the bleachers where Allison watches with Lydia, eyes focusing on them.

“Who is that,” Allison questions.

Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

“He’s in my English class.”

Scott looks up, shocked to hear Allison asking about him. But with his hearing momentarily turned up, he flinches at the whistle blow, sound ringing through his skull.

One of the bigger players charges forward as the Assistant Coach passes the ball to him. Catching it, he whips his stick forward, hurling the ball toward the goal.

Still reeling from the whistle, Scott looks up too late to see the ball soaring toward him. It bounces right off his helmet and into the net. The team laughs wickedly. Even Coach snickers.

Cheeks burning under his mask, Scott readies himself for the next player. When the whistle blows again, he’s ready. The Assistant Coach passes the ball to the next player who catches it and fires it right at the goal.

Scott moves startlingly fast, almost an instantaneous reaction. Then he notices the player staring at him with a mixture of disappointment and surprise. Scott has the ball.

“Yeah!” Stiles shouts from the sideline, impressed with his friends newfound luck. “See I told you he was practicing,” I brag to Stiles.

When the next player takes the shot, Scott catches the ball again. And then again. And again. Nothing can get past him.

In the bleachers, Allison and Lydia sit forward.

“He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison continues to stare at Scott practicing on the field

“Very good.” Intrigued, Lydia keeps her gaze locked on Scott who now stands with a far more confident posture. Until he sees that Jackson is next in line. Glaring at Scott, he practically strangles the lacrosse stick with his gloves.

“Oh God...” Scott croaks with fear.

The Assistant Coach tosses the ball up. Jackson launches forward, catching the ball and spinning around to fire it at the goal. But Scott moves with supernatural precision. The ball lands right in the pocket of the goalie stick.

Stiles and I let out hollers of excitement, jumping up from the bench. In the bleachers, Lydia stands and cheers as well causing Jackson to throw a look at her. She returns his glare with a sly smile, a warning to step up his game.

Grinning, Scott gives the goalie stick a whirl, spinning it with a flick of his wrist and sending the ball soaring right into the pocket of the stunned Assistant Coach’s stick.

—————

In the woods, Scott retraces his steps from last night with Stiles and I following behind him.

“I don’t know what it was. It was like, I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.”

Walking towards a bank we came to a river we had to cross. I hope Scott knows where he’s going. After seeing nowhere to cross we trudged through the river soaking our feet in the water. If my shoes smell after this I’m gonna kill him.

Reaching the other side, Scott continued with his worries. “And that’s not the only weird thing. I mean I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. And I can smell things.”

“Smell things? Like what,” Stiles questions.

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.”

“I don’t have any...” Stiles pulls out a lint-covered piece of wrapped gum.

Looking up at Scott in shock, he just shrugged, continuing his walk into the woods. Double checking, I ask him, “so all this started with the bite?”

“What if it’s an infection? What if my body is flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

“I’ve actually heard of this,” Stiles starts, “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I think it’s called... Lycanthropy.”

“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes at his accusation. He can’t be serious.

“No I’m serious! This is important!”

“What’s that? Is it bad? It sounds bad.”

“It is. But only once a month.”

“Once a month?”

“On the night of a full moon. Awroooo”

Scott looks at him. And then it clicks. Giving him a push, we continued walking.

“Stiles you’re such a dumbass sometimes,” I chide.

“Hey, he’s the one who heard a wolf howling.”

“There could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott looks back at Stiles with a look of fear.

“I know! You’re a werewolf! Grrr!” He slashes his hands through the air in a claw motion and I take this opportunity to stick my leg out in front of him and watch as he trips.

As Stiles falls to the forrest floor Scott and I laugh at his stupidity. “Okay, obviously, I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class melting down all the silver I can find it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

We seemed to reach the destination because Scott started to look around the area.

“I swear this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler...”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.”

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks.”

As the boys thought of different theories I looked towards the woods and saw someone walking towards us. Is that.. Derek Hale?

“Hello,” I greet, waving to the man.

Stiles looks up at me and then to the man and taps Scott on the arm, pulling him to his feet. Derek Hale. Nineteen and unquestionably handsome, he has a rougher look than the cleanly shaven Beacon Hills boys.

“What are you doing here?”

Both Scott and Stiles are too stunned to speak at first “This is private property.”

“Sorry, we didn’t know,” Stiles assures.

Derek stares at Scott, barely noticing Stiles or I.

Scott opens his mouth to speak to the man but then closes it, at a loss for words.

I take this as an opportunity explain. “We were just looking for something but we’ll leave. Sorry to bother you.”

As we’re turning to go, Derek tosses an object to Scott. His inhaler. When he looks up, Derek is already walking away.

Now finding his voice, Scott mutters, “Aight, come on. I’ve gotta get to work.”

“Dude, that was Derek Hale, “Stiles exclaims. “You remember, right? He’s only a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

We used to have a class together in school. “I remember the cops pulling him out of class to tell him,” I tell the boys. “I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Scott eyes the inhaler in his hand, closing his fist over it. “Come on,” he says again.

—————

Tag List: @linkpk88

[accendimi]

Are You Lonesome Tonight {Desrina}

TW: Binge Drinking, Drugs, Fade Out Sexy Times. Time: August 13-14th Weekend after the Swynlake Dream TL;DR: Sarina and DeSoto jet away for the weekend to get their heads out of the classic Swynlake bullshit. Being the little shits they are, they play a game that gets very real but let’s Sarina realize she has a family she never considered before.

Introducing Sarina Sykes.

We started this before the event and then realized the timing was perfect so the beginning doesn’t ref the event but just refer to the other Para.

Part One: I Need Your Love Tonight

@desotosykes

SARINA

It wasn’t a quick flight by any means but when you had the money and the motive things moved very quickly. It helped when you had a partner willing to partake in the mile high club to make things even a little more fun.

Because wouldn’t you believe Sarina had never been to Vegas. 

Lights, Sex, Fun in the Sun. It sounded like a fun time for the girl that didn’t have any gigs lined up for the week and with DeSoto by her side it sounded like a great time. 

At the moment they were bar hopping Sarina’s little black dress hiking up as they walked through the city her arms wrapped around DeSoto’s a blunt hanging from her lips.

“You know what would probably get us a few free drinks. A proposal.” 

DESOTO

As much fun as being in Swynlake with one of his favorite partners-in-crime was, DeSoto craved time away from the not so often sleepy town. He’d had his fill of wacky Swynlake bullshit so when Sarina had mentioned the idea of a getaway, he was more than on board. Her idea of Vegas only solidified that notion.

More than a few drinks in and the eldest Sykes brother was feeling all sorts of good. He had his own arm wrapped around Sarina as he plucked the joint from between her lips and took a long drag of his own. “Probably get us more than a few,” he snickered as he stumbled just so slightly. Money clearly wasn’t a problem for them, DeSoto was more than willing to spend his money on Sarina and this little getaway. But fucking with people that had no clue who they were? That would never get old.

“Figure I can give yous this t’make it look real.” He gestured to his free hand where he wore the ring he stole from his father way too many years ago. Taking another long drag from the joint, he handed it back to Sarina with a smirk. “Guess dinner’s about t’be interesting, ain’t? Ham it up maybe even get dessert free too.”

SARINA

Sarina took the blunt with no argument bringing it to her lips. She missed nights like this. Towns like Swynlake were impossible to mess with (at least in this regard) too small and everyone thought they knew everything. DeSoto and Sarina getting hitched. No one would bat an eye. But here where they just looked like a smoking hot couple. It was perfect.

They looked like a power couple honestly.

"Now now Des you're truly going to steal my heart if I get a ring that you wear every day." With the blunt between her fingers Sarina set her hand over her heart with a wink before handing it back to him.

"Then we truly need to go somewhere expensive. Make it a show they won't soon forget. What do you think about Joël Robuchon?"

DESOTO

When he’d been much younger and, arguably, a little more dumber than he currently could be considered, DeSoto Sykes was a ladies man. He still was a ladies man but he didn’t sleep around as much as he did when he was younger. All that to say that he definitely knew how to steal hearts and break them. It wasn’t his fault that he was such a charmer or that girls were typically entirely too romantic for their own good.

Still, he returned the wink after taking a drag of the blunt with a smirk. “You mean I didn’t already have your heart to begin with? Guess yous really are just keepin’ me around for my looks.” He teased her, fully knowing that neither of them were in this for emotions. At least nothing as substantial as romance and love. 

Even if they currently looked like they were a couple and acted like one.

“Joel Robuchon? Fancy. Yous gotta play the part of clueless while I talk to ‘em. Think yous can handle it?”

SARINA

“Well they aren’t bad looks, now are they? I could be keeping you around for the money which would you prefer?” Sarina’s heels clicked with them moving and she knew both of them were getting looks in the best way. Well in a way both of them liked.

“Don’t worry I’ll put on my best blonde impression and they’ll know nothing. They won’t even know we’re a few drinks in and looking to have some fun. I’ll look the ever loving girlfriend.”

DESOTO

If he was honest? DeSoto didn’t really give a shit either way. The man grew up with probably the world’s shittiest dad. Someone who made sure his kids knew, especially as they got older, that he only kept them around because they were good at their jobs within the family business. A trait that definitely transferred over to DeSoto. He was just… less vocal about it. 

But this wasn’t a therapy session. It was a trip to Vegas with, arguably, one of his best friends. And he had a good buzz on just like she did and they were being their usual shit head selves with each other. 

“Both’a us know it ain’t the money, babe,” he smirked with a slight pinch to her arm. “But it ain’t matter. S’long as I get t’spend time with you.” He tried his best to keep a straight face; a feat that was just a bit harder than usual with the drinks and drugs currently in his system. “C’mon. Ain’t that far away.”

SARINA

Sarina placed her free hand over her heart looking up at DeSoto as if she was completely swooning over the very thought. And it was sweet and Sarina recognized she had made great connections since being here and that would mean everything to her.

But beyond the impending proposal they didn’t need to be sappier.

Walking into the restaurant Sarina bounded up to the hostess glancing at the reservations with a quick glance.

“Hi I’m so sorry we’re a little earlier than expected but we have a reservation in about an hour under the name ‘Thompson’.” Sarina grinned brightly at the hostess, memorizing the information to call and cancel this little Thompson reservation and send them on a little goose chase to make sure her and Des had all the time they needed.

“Oh hello Ms. Thompson, let me see what I can do and if I can get you two in.” The hostess slipped away and Sarina smiled at Des. 

“Let me go cancel the reservation for those two and you let me know where we’re sitting.” Sarina popped up on her toes to kiss DeSoto on the cheek as the hostess came back.

“Sorry business call I’ll be right back. I’ll be one second love. Business deals just can’t get done without me.” Sarina tacked on with a pretend sigh.

DESOTO

It took all of DeSoto’s willpower not to smirk as Sarina sweet talked the hostess with the most endearing smile. Really, the hostess made it all too easy to take advantage of the system. Instead of smirking, however, he just grinned as he wrapped an arm around Sarina’s waist and pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “I’ll be here waiting, darling.” 

That smile stayed on his lips as Sarina flitted away, phone pressed to her ear. Really, he could have very easily gotten them a seat without such a fuss but, well, where was the fun in that?

Turning back to the hostess, he pulled his hand from his pocket and showed her the ring that typically sat on his right hand. “We’re high school sweethearts, yous know. Been together a long time.” He watched with an inward smirk as he saw the hostess’ features soften even more than they had been. “We were waiting to have a stable income and all to get married but then… her ma got sick so it kinda put us back. This is the first vacation we’ve had in a few years and I figured now would be the best time t’ask. Yous think yous could help me do somethin’ real special for her? Make it a night she won’t forget?”

SARINA

The hostess did melt as she looked at the ring and then out at the girl who had left. What a sweet pair and gorgeous too. She couldn’t imagine they didn’t come from money considering how they were dressed but the mention of a sick mother and just, oh she could see it happening.

The pair against the world, finally getting a stable income. Only for her mother to fall sick. They take care of her and maybe she passes, maybe the mother tells them to go on and enjoy their life. 

And that ring was most definitely a family ring.

“Of course. We should be able to celebrate with a bottle and a dessert. I’ll look into it for you as soon as we sit you down.” 

All the while Sarina was outside waiting the time out. But then she saw the familiar glint of a ring, one that she thought DeSoto might like. Now it wasn’t as fancy as his family ring but it would be a nice touch if needed.

Turning her ankle slightly Sarina pretended to stumbled into the guy laughing and giggling, drunk off her ass. “I’m sorry,” She giggled. “Or am I you’re cute.” With one hand going up to his cheek the other took the hand that was steadying her and slipped off his ring. As he reassured it was okay she brought her hand to her chest slipping the ring into her bra.

“You should find me later. If you do I’m sure we’ll have a good time.” Kissing his cheek, Sarina stumbled into an hidden corner to wait him and the waitress out and when the coast was clear she strolled back in palming the ring into her clutch as she wrapped an arm around DeSoto smiling brilliantly at the woman as they were led in. 

“You’re in luck we have the best table reserved for you. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your visit with us.” Seating them the hostess all but ran off and Sarina raised an eyebrow. 

“What’s our sob story?”

DESOTO

It was easy for DeSoto and Sarina to follow the woman as she led them to a rather impressive table. Secluded and candle lit. Entirely too romantic for the two of them but perfect for a couple about to get engaged. He thanked the lady as she walked away and then gave Sarina a shit eating grin. 

“High school sweethearts,” he explained with a roll of his eyes. “But your mom got sick so it set us back a bit. I’m proposing tonight since it’s our first vacation in years.” It wasn’t the most inventive lie but it worked on the sap of a hostess and would work on the rest of the idiots working the restaurant. 

When the waitress came over, Des didn’t have to even ask for a bottle of wine. “The finest wine on the menu, on the house.” A subtle wink was offered to DeSoto as the waitress poured two glasses and then set the bottle down in a small bucket of ice. “I’ll give you time to look through the menu. If you need anything just wave one of us over and we’ll be glad to help you.” 

Des nodded with a smile as he took Sarina’s hand gently. “Thank yous. We’ll call if we need anything.” Turning back to Sarina once the waitress was gone, Des smirked. “Pick what yous want. M’sure the whole meal’s gonna be comped. Shit. Could probably get a swank hotel room if we’s play our cards right.” 

SARINA

Sarina brushed her hair back giving both Des a show and she knew some other boys were looking too. It was cute as they tried not to having been on dates with their own significant others. 

“That’s easy enough to remember then again we won’t need it after the night.” It would be even funnier if it dropped and they tried to run them out. Both Des and Sarina could get out without a second thought. 

“Then let’s do their fancy four course whatever it is. Let them treat us. Honestly how do businesses stay in business and be this gullible.”

DESOTO

If DeSoto were a more possessive man, he’d be pissed at all the looks Sarina was getting. But he wasn’t possessive and he was getting the same sort of looks from those boys’ girlfriends. It was fun seeing the looks of longing. As if somehow in some different universe, DeSoto would be a good boyfriend and Sarina would make a good girlfriend. It made him want to laugh, though all he did was smirk as Sarina gave her own little show to those around them.

“Dunno. Works in our favor, though, ain’t?” He smirked before laughing. It was probably because they were soft. Emotional. They lived for these kinds of things. Engagements and anniversaries. Anything to celebrate. But who needed a special day to celebrate? Hell, he’d gotten tickets for them to Vegas just for the hell of it. Sarina hadn’t been and Des hadn’t had anything super important to do, so why not?

Calling the waitress back over, he grinned when he told her they’d like to have the four course meal, complete with the best dessert. And of course, he’d be more than willing to pay for their meal.

SARINA

The meal was fabulous, it wasn’t outside of Sarina’s budget, she liked to steal high value so she could live high value. But it was nice to share a fun time of mocking the employees with someone. At least she could always trust Des with that.

And he wasn’t wrong throughout the whole meal they played into the emotional card. Every once in awhile Sarina would look up at Des with those eyes full of wonder and amazement. She would reach out and just tuck a strand of hair back up and away from those beautiful eyes.

“You spoil me love.” Sarina knowing she was within ear shot as their dessert was delivered. “Better late than never and it was well worth the wait.”

DESOTO

The waitress had given DeSoto a small warning when they were about to bring out the dessert and Des easily excused himself so that he could slip his ring off of his finger and give it to the waitress to hide in their dessert. 

Oh was the restaurant about to get the best show of their lives. 

“You deserve the world, dearest.” He smiled back as their dessert was set in front of them. As expected his ring was nestled on top of the rather decadent looking cheesecake. All he had to do was wait for Sarina to notice for the real fun to begin. 

Before she was able to really put on the show, Des rose from his seat so that he could kneel down next to her chair. 

“This…. Shouldn’t be any surprise… You’ve been the love of my life since we were fifteen. And I’ve known you were the woman I was gonna spend the rest of my life with since I was sixteen.” He paused as he wiped a fake tear from his eye before taking his hand in hers. “I know things ain’t…. Ideal but why wait anymore? Marry me?”

SARINA

Sarina spotted the ring easily but took a moment to really spice it up her eyes widening as she looked between the dessert and DeSoto, back again until he got up and got on one knee. With on hand in his Sarina lifted her other hand to cover her lips and then when a fake tear rolled she lifted that hand as if to fan the tear away.

Nodding her head, Sarina fell into his arms taking his face in her hands to kiss him.

“Yes yes yes.” She repeated when she pulled away resting her forehead on hers. “I’d marry you this second if I could. I love you.” 

DESOTO

Sarina was good. If he was on the outside looking in he’d definitely think this was a real proposal. The way she teared up and fell into his arms? Perfect. It made it all too easy, really. 

One arm wrapped around her while the other cupped her cheek gently as he kissed her back, the smile not leaving his lips as their foreheads pressed together. He kissed her again before taking her hand in his and slipping his ring onto her finger. 

An idea formed then and he couldn’t help the slight smirk that formed on his lips. Why not see just how far they could take this? They were in Vegas after all (and entirely too fucked up to be making decisions). 

“Let’s get married then. Right now,” he huffed out before pressing another kiss to her lips. “I’m sure there’s a chapel close by. We can do a big wedding later.”

SARINA

The ring slipped onto her finger and Sarina admired it, and that was actually true. She could only imagine the stories behind this ring and what exactly Des had done while wearing it. 

“Wait- Wait-” Sarina gasped out for a breath, pretending to be overwhelmed for the crowd and it was a crowd, their hostess, the waitress, even who she suspected was the manager. “I- well I got you something too.” Reaching out without leaving his arms Sarina grabbed her clutch pulling it toward her looking like she was stumbling but careful to hide any of the cigarettes and worse that she had in there.

Pulling out the ring that she had stolen earlier she held it up to him. “My mom gave it to me when she passed. It was the one she got my dad for their engagement. I’ve been carrying it with me since. So yes, let’s get married. I don’t think I could wait any longer.” The sad thing about that was Sarina actually did have her parents wedding rings. At this point they were locked up safe but she wasn’t about to leave that with her brothers. 

The awes could be heard throughout the restaurant, and Sarina spied the waitress talking to the manager and him nodding. The show was good enough wasn’t it. What great publicity, and a story to tell everyone.

“Go, we’ll box up the dessert. Get married. You two have been waiting long enough.” The waitress whispered coming up to them and Sarina looked up at DeSoto with a smile.

“Let’s go get married.” And while she had tears in her eyes and she was pretending to be breathless she knew he saw the amusement in her eyes.

DESOTO

The show was going so well. Everyone in the restaurant truly believed what he and Sarina were saying. They were the only ones in on the joke and it was so hard to keep from losing his shit laughing. Neither were sincere at all. But, at their core, they were con artists. The best, it seemed. 

Still, Des wrapped his arms around Sarina and held her close as she looked up at him. “Alright, love. M’sure we’s can find someone t’marry us. Can make this part of our honeymoon.” Smiling softly at her, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips while everyone around them cooed at their little display. 

At the behest of the waitress and her boss, Des stood and reached for Sarina’s hand. He was not gonna pass up the chance to get out without having to pay a bill. Even if he could afford it, they were doing #themost just for the hell of it. 

As soon as they were out the door, he shifted to wrap an arm around Sarina’s shoulders and laughed. “Yous sure yous weren’t an actress before? They was eatin’ outta our hands,” he chuckled. “Where’d yous even get that ring from?”

SARINA

Sarina moved to wipe the tears from her eyes with a grin. “Maybe I was but then I actually had to listen to direction and that sounds like a bad time.” Hopefully all Sarina’s past lives were this exciting, and hopefully all her future ones would too.

After all. Die Young. Have Fun.

“When I stepped out to make that call it was fate, this guy had a ring that I thought you might like. I might have invited him to play later but I doubt he’ll be able to find me. Though with your possessive streak it might just make the night hotter when we do have our honeymoon.” Sarina teased. Spotting a club with a line out the door.

“Think we could get in? And keep the party going?”

DESOTO

It was easy to follow Sarina’s line of sight when the line was as long as it was. He hadn’t seen a line for a club that long since he’d been in New York. Of course, he’d never had to wait in a line that long before. All he had to do was give his name and he was in with whoever he wanted. He knew it’d be no different now, too; though he wouldn’t give his name, just flash that pretty family ring on his lovely partner’s finger.

“Course we can get in,” he huffed. “Look at us. And with yous layin’ that charm on? We’s in without a problem.” 

Moving past the line, all while eyeing the people lined up and waiting, Des tucked Sarina closer and put on the same dopey grin he’d had at the restaurant. “Might as well figure out who’s you want t’share before we reach the door.” 

He smirked as he pressed his lips to her cheeks as a cover to why he was so close to her. It only added to the image they were playing with. The naked eye would see only an intoxicated and in love couple. Not two devious masterminds plotting their next bit of fun. 

“Hey, man… my fiancée’s been dyin’ t’get into this club all night. Said it was the best place t’celebrate n’shit. Yous think you can help us out?” He gave his best hopelessly in love look to Sarina before turning back to the bouncer at the front. “We’ll make it worth your while, aint?”

SARINA

It wasn’t hard to fall into the roll again, the doting and absolutely in love fiancée. Even as her eyes trailed over all the people in line. If any of them could handle her and DeSoto together. Smiling up at Des, Sarina slowly turned her eyes to the Bouncer who looked less than impressed.

“Lots of people want to get in, you two will have to go back to the end of the line like everyone else.”

“Baby do you hear that? Like everyone else. We’re not just everyone else? And he even promised to make it worth your while. Something no one here would have the means to do.” Sarina whined a little bit, like a spoiled little rich girl who expected to get her way.

“What’s the offer then?” The Bouncer asked glancing around quickly before returning to an unamused expression.

DESOTO

It was… beyond irritating that this guy wasn’t buying any of the bribes. It made him wish he’d taken her to New York; even if that was an insanely stupid idea. At least then he wouldn’t have to work so damn hard to get into clubs that probably were subpar at best. 

But he didn’t let that show. Instead he gave a sheepish grin as he pulled Sarina closer. “Well, for starters money clearly isn’t an issue here. Unless… yous lookin’ for somethin’ else. More… fun.” He smirked as he pulled his other hand from his pocket. 

The little baggie he revealed contained a good variety of pills. Mostly uppers that were only going to enhance their night. Party favors, really. They were celebrating after all.

“Or if that’s not your bag. Well, m’sure my fiancée could have some fun with yous. She’s amazing in the sack.”

SARINA

Well slow down there Dez. Sarina turned her attention to him with a raised eyebrow. Now would she have some fun with him. Potentially. Did she like being pimped out. Not at all.

“Only if I think you’re worth my time you’re better off taking the party favours.” Sarina instead stated as the man did look over the bag, Sarina had no idea what Des had in there but it was all good stuff she was sure and it looked like the man was actually considering it.

“Fine, you guys can go in. This stuff better be the good ones, Or I’ll drag your ass out myself.” 

With him stepping aside to let them in, Sarina poked at Des’ chest. “No pimping me out again. Even if he’s hot. You can have him for yourself if you really want to.”

DESOTO

Was it his brightest idea? Not at all. He’d had worse but he was only focused on the goal. Getting into the club. Which they did. So technically he was going to count it as a win. Which was the reason why even though Sarina poked him not so gently and offered that warning, he still smirked. “Hey, got us in, aint? And yous ain’t hafta to do nothin’ except look a little mean.” 

He slung an arm around her as they moved further into the club. They definitely picked a good one. The music was hot, bodies packed the dance floor, and everyone looked like they were ready for a good time. Drink girls were walking around scantily clad and Des took no time in grabbing two drinks. “Consider it my first apology of the night for attempting t’pimp yous out,” he grinned as he handed one of the shots to Sarina. Clinking their glasses together, he took his shot easily and deposited the empty glass onto another drink girl’s tray. 

Scouting the place out it wasn’t hard to find where the life of the party was. It was a large group, a mix of guys and girls that were already pretty inebriated and loud. Perfect for what Des and Sarina had in mind. “Think we found our new suckers. Ain’t gonna hafta spend a dime tonight. Ready t’lay on the charm?”

SARINA

Sarina rolled her eyes when she took the drink. Irritating bugger, but she did like the thought of multiple apologies throughout the night. She would give him a pass for now and only now.

Glancing over the group Sarina grinned throwing her hair over her shoulder and nodding. “Got any extra party favours in there for us?” Sarina questioned with a grin before they joined the group.

And DeSoto hadn’t been wrong in his assumption, people kept calling for shots whenever they saw the ring and heard the sob story. Forgetting it and being reminded again and calling for more shots. That paired with whatever DeSoto had provided, Sarina was on a nice cloud.

“You guys should get married right now! Why wait!” One of the girls screeched out. “There’s so many places to get married. We can all come and be your witnesses. OMG we could find you some sexy lingerie as a wedding gift. It could be your something new!”

While the screeching was unpleasant the story had been repeated so many times the you know why not? Go with the flow. Really seal the deal.

“We could get married right now. They are right.” Sarina slurred just a bit throwing her arms around his shoulders as she kissed his neck. “Have a wicked honeymoon with the gifted lingerie.”

DESOTO

The party was beyond pumping. Their little group was the life of the party. People gathered around them like they were honey and Des loved it. The girls crowded around Sarina, all squealing and giggling and screeching, while the boys congregated with DeSoto offering congratulations and lewd comments about his partner. The drinks didn’t stop flowing and every once in a while a party favor would appear from DeSoto’s pocket. 

Best to keep the party going. 

He was feeling good, the mix of alcohol and drugs flowing through his system freely, and had an arm draped around Sarina’s waist. They’d just finished another (free) round of drinks and he’d made the decision to endure the screaming and screeching girls for it. Even laughed as they suggested getting married right then. 

“Mmm, think we’s already havin’ a wicked time,” he grinned as he raised a hand to lift her chin up to kiss her. “But yous wanna get married? Let’s do it. Always wanted t’get married by Elvis.”

SARINA

They were having an wicked time but suddenly it just seemed like a good idea to get married. Why not? It was all for fun and they had been swinging that story around all night, it sounded better and better the more they talked about it.

“How else would I get married? I’m not a walk down the aisle in white type of bride.” Sarina stated easily, it was true. Sarina had never thought of it for herself. She hadn’t ever like the idea of getting married, being locked down into a family that would shackle her to the ground.

But now it felt like a good idea, a fun idea. Why not was the overall response.

“Why not?” 

With all that as confirmation the girls tugged on Sarina. “We’re getting her a dress. Boys go get him a suit We’ll text you where to meet and the next time you see each other you’re going to be getting married.” Another screech. And god Sarina was sure her ears would burst.

DESOTO

Everything was happening in even more of a blur. While the beginning of the evening was still pretty clear, Des was losing coherency bit by bit. Not that it mattered. This was supposed to be a fun trip, a trip where he got to have fun and fuck with other people with one of his favorite people. And that’s what they were doing. 

And also getting married but whatever. 

Before he even had a chance to question it his newfound friends were dragging him away from Sarina and out of the club. “Man we gotta get you something awesome for your wedding! It’s Vegas bro! Gotta go big!” One of the men clapped him on the back before jumping up excitedly as they walked down the street. Des couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head. “S’a Vegas wedding. Gotta be ridiculous, aint? Gotta find somethin’ cheesy as fuck. My girl’ll appreciate it. Trust me.” 

They made their way into a suit shop that looked promising. It was filled with designer suits that, if he wasn’t high as hell, he’d buy. But that wasn’t what he was looking for. No. If Desoto was getting married in Vegas he was gonna get married in the worst fashion he could think of. Which alternatively meant it was the best fashion. Everyone knew Vegas had its own culture, it’s own ideas of what true fashion was. 

And why not emulate the best of them?

He saw it in the back and knew immediately that whatever the cost he was gonna buy it. It looked exactly like something the King would wear and tonight? DeSoto was the King. 

“Alright boys. Target acquired. Gotta get yous some ridiculous accessories and then we’d good t’go.” He grinned as he draped the suit bag over his shoulder and headed towards the wedding chapel. 

SARINA

The girls were on two trips one to get a dress and two to get what went underneath. And Sarina had no problem modeling or stripping in front of them. And while they did stay with the traditional white, it had a high slit and a deep back. Sometimes it felt lucky that it even stayed up.

But that’s what Sarina wanted and paired some sexy lingerie the girl was set.

Sarina truly couldn’t remember how they got from there to the chapel but she was standing in front of it, her other outfit forgotten somewhere but it didn’t matter considering the things she did consider important were the jewelery she kept from her family. 

But now music was playing (she didn’t know what) And her and Des were being summoned down the aisle while all these random people watched.

DESOTO

As usual, Sarina looked absolutely gorgeous. It took all of his power to keep his hands off of her because with everything running through his system all he wanted to do was strip that dress off of her. But there were more important things they had to do. Like meet Elvis. 

The man had just finished crooning Teddy Bear when they reached the end of the aisle where Sarina’s new girlfriends and DeSoto’s new guy friends were waiting for them. Standing in his spot, Des grinned as he took Sarina’s hands in his. 

“Alright, alright. We’re gathered here today in this house of love to wed these hunk’a hunk’a burnin’ loves,” Elvis started, swiveling his hips in a near perfect imitation of The King. “If there’s any suspicious minds out there thinkin’ these two need to go to the hearbreak hotel say your peace. It’s now or never.” 

With no one saying anything, Elvis returned his attention back to Sarina and DeSoto. “So tell me my little hound dogs. Do you take this groovy lil mama to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Des smirked as he nodded. “Course I do.” 

SARINA

Sarina hadn’t actually noticed it before, her music taste wasn’t exactly Elvis after all. But now seeing DeSoto and Elvis side by side she was having a hard enough time keeping the laughter at bay.

Especially for something that was supposed to be as serious as wedding. But she had way too much in her system to worry about that. 

“And you do you take this hound dog to and promise to love him tender love him sweet?” Elvis turned his attention to her and Sarina had to quiet her giggles to respond.

“Of course I do.” That’s why they were here after all.

“Now with those good luck charms on your fingers already, it proves you just need one night to get stuck on each other forever. I pronounce you Husband and Wife! You may kiss your bride!”

DESOTO

DeSoto didn’t waste any time as Elvis said he could kiss his bride. He wrapped an arm around Sarina’s waist and pulled her close, even went as far as dipping her as he kissed her deeply. He’d never had a thought of getting married. Hell, Roscoe constantly teased him about the fact he hadn’t settled down. But at the moment this felt right. Very right. 

At least that’s what his heavily intoxicated brain was telling him. 

The group that came with them whooped and cheered before running over to congratulate them. Des laughed, keeping his arms wrapped around Sarina. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks guys,” Des chuckled, pressing a kiss to Sarina’s temple. “But, uh, me and my wife have a little less conversation planned, if yous know what I mean.” Wiggling his eyebrows he pulled himself and Sarina away from the group. 

“Go have fun and celebrate for us,” he smirked, tossing them a baggie of assorted pills and some cash. The least he could do for all the help they’d been. “Me and my lady are gonna go have a private celebration.” 

SARINA

Sarina laughed as Des dipped and kissed her. Phones went off and in theory that was a good thing because there was no way they would remember this in the morning. But Sarina didn’t care about details like that. 

No she was much more excited about the private celebration they were about to have. And where. And with DeSoto’s gift she was sure the group was more concerned about their own private celebration as well.

Splitting up from that group, it wasn’t hard to walk into a fancy hotel and get a honeymoon Suite. Even plastered as they were, they were smart (debatable considering they just got married) and could handle themselves (Again debatable).

But Sarina was having fun so she didn’t care, Tugging DeSoto into the elevator, Sarina didn’t waste anymore time dragging Des into her and kissing him, setting his hand by the silt on her dress.

DESOTO

DeSoto easily anticipated Sarina’s attack in the elevator. They’d been behaving all night. Keeping their hands mostly to themselves in lieu of their little game. It made it all the more interesting, he felt. Built up the tension for when they finally decided to call it quits. 

Tension that Sarina couldn’t handle by the time they got to the elevator. But neither could DeSoto. He responded eagerly, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of her neck as his other hand slipped up her leg using the slit there as access to push the dress farther up. 

“We’s gonna get kicked out puttin’ on a show like this,” he huffed against her lips as the elevator dinged with each floor. It didn’t stop him, however, from resting both hands on her hips and squeezing. 

SARINA

“We’re newly married, do they really think we can keep our hands to ourselves.” Sarina joked just as breathless against her lips. Her accent back to it’s normal Italian, having lost focus hours ago to keep it at the English one.

“I bet you anyone watching is just enjoying the free show. We could make it a good one for them if we would like.” Further and higher the dings went. Especially because Sarina didn’t want to stop.

DESOTO

“Only if yous want to, my hunk’a hunk’a burnin’ love,” he huffed, shifting his grip so that he could lift her easily. Wrapping her legs around his waist he moved to kiss her again while he shifted to push her against the back wall of the elevator.

The dings went ignored as he took his time working Sarina up. It was his favorite thing to do considering most of the time she gave as good as she got. 

“Ahem…” a voice interrupted him and made him groan just slightly from where he’d been nipping at Sarina’s neck. Turning just slightly to the intruder, Des raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, we’s celebratin’.” A fake apology for an annoying person who definitely muttered something under their breath. Des didn’t care though. Not when they were close to their room and the real fun could begin. 

SARINA

Sarina pouted when DeSoto stopped, tightening her grip around his waist to bring his attention back to her. “You know we just got married you should be congratulating us.” Sarina added waving and wiggling her fingers in the direction of the other eventually just giving them the middle finger when they muttered under their breath.

But honestly it was a surprise Sarina hadn’t accidentally given any sort of slip, then again Des at her waist his chest against hers, she was pretty secure.

Either way Sarina drew him back in until the other got off and they continued to rise to their floor.

DESOTO

By the time they got to their floor, DeSoto was more than ready to be off of the elevator. There was so much pent up energy coursing through him that he could barely contain himself on the elevator. Whoever was watching from the lobby got quite the show as he and Sarina groped and grabbed at each other, both barely keeping the rating below X-rated. 

The show continued in the hallway as he stopped every few feet to push her against the wall as if showing her what was coming once they got into the room. He couldn’t stop touching her, didn’t want to. 

Finally pushing the door to the suite open, Des fumbled in closing it behind them as he pulled Sarina closer once more and kissed her deeply. “I think it’s time we got outta this. Someone promised sexy lingerie and I wanna tear it off yous.” 

SARINA

“Feel free to tear any of it off. I don’t hold any sentimental attachment to it.” As long as her family ring and now Des’ ring on her stayed safe, Sarina didn’t care. “Though you’ll have to buy me clothes in the morning. Not really sure where the dress I came here with ended up.” Trying to think back on the night they just had was nearly impossible. 

Dropping her legs from his waist Sarina pulled away so she could start sliding it down.

“Unless you want a show of course.” 

DESOTO

Des grinned as Sarina pulled away from him even though he missed the heat of her body. This was his favorite thing about mixing all his vices. Everything was heightened and he could never get close enough to whoever he shared the night with. It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember it in the morning. All he cared about was the moment they were in, satisfying every craving he and his partner had. Now, it was whatever craving he and his wife had. 

“We’s can probably get somethin’ from the gift shop n’then do a proper shopping trip for clothes. Think I’d be dumb as fuck t’say no t’a show from yous,” he smirked as he took off his ridiculous scarf/sash and undid his shirt to let it hang open. “Show me what yous got.” 

Moving to grab a chair, he sat in it and placed a hand in his lap all but waiting for Sarina to start whatever show she was going to put on for him.

SARINA

Sarina laughed and giggled and overall just let her guard down, not only was she with one of her best friends, and could now call her Husband. (Weird yes) But she was having fun, coming down off this one wasn’t going to be as fun though.

Until then Sarina promised a show.

Travelling her hand up her thigh slowly Sarina gave him the briefest glance at the red she wore underneath and the thin strings that connected it.

Turning her back to him Sarina brought her hair to the front slowly letting the dress fall and kicking it aside. Finally she turned to face him all the little straps connecting the top and bottom and yet none of it showed from behind.

Brushing her hair back Sarina grinned sitting on his lap. “It wouldn’t be fun if you couldn’t touch as I pulled the rest off.” 

DESOTO

There was something… different about this time with Sarina. His feelings about her were still the same (even if they had recently gotten married) but there was something between the two that had changed. Or at least that was how DeSoto felt at the moment. Who knew if it was just the drugs and alcohol or if there was some truth to the way he was currently feeling. 

All that mattered was Sarina in his lap with the sexiest lingerie he’d probably ever seen. 

His hands traveled to her hips while he took in how little she wore and how well she wore it. “How’d yous know I liked red?” He teased, pulling lightly at one of the strings before letting it go so the he could trail that hand up her side. 

SARINA

“Who doesn’t like red?” Sarina teased reaching back to unhook her bra almost completely bare to him and yet he was still dressed in the ridiculous get up. Pulling away once more Sarina stepped out of the rest and walking to the bed. 

“You can join me but you should match me first in what you’re wearing and only then will you be welcomed in this bed.”

DESOTO

“Insane people probably,” he responded easily, though was quickly side tracked as she slipped the bra off. After that all train of thought left him and all he could do was work off of instinct. As she got up he followed her, making sure to get rid of his Elvis outfit in the process. No way was he going to jeopardize this night by insisting his outfit was perfectly suitable for joining her. 

~~~~

Sunlight peaked in front the slightly open curtain and DeSoto couldn’t help the low groan that fell from his lips. His head was throbbing and the direct sunlight, no matter how slight it was, was not helping anything. Rolling over, another low groan left him. His body was sore but in a familiar way, a not unpleasant way. Just unexpected. 

The details from the previous night were fuzzy as hell and as he reached to close the curtains more completely he frowned. His ring was gone. Turning back to look in his clothes, his frown deepened when he saw an overly flamboyant Elvis impersonator suit instead of the black one he’d been wearing when they touched down. 

“What the fuck?” He swore lowly as he wandered around the rather large room, only taking notice of Sarina curled up in the bed he’d all but fallen from. “Hey… ‘Rina, wake up.”  

SARINA

Sarina didn’t want to wake up everything hurt, her head most of all and her throat beyond dry. Even at Des’ voice she yawned and buried her head back into the pillow. At least it wasn’t another Swynlake dream.

Slowly she peeked at him with one eye open and one closed as she yawned.

They were in a room and it was just them, nothing to really write home about yet. “What’s up? Did you wanna get food or something.” the more she moved the more she felt the weight of her rings differently. Weird.

DESOTO

This wasn’t anything different for one of their romps. So he wasn’t exactly panicking. He just… wanted to know where his ring was and… and why he was wearing a completely different ring. On the wrong hand. What in the actual fuck had happened last night? 

“Nah… yous ain’t seen my ring, aint? I ain’t gamble it away or trade it for this thing?” He asked as he took off the new ring and showed it to her. “Yous ain’t think I did somethin’ stupid with it after we left the restaurant?”

Was it dumb that he was upset about losing his father’s ring? Yeah. Probably. Especially since his dad was a complete piece of shit that would kill him on the spot if given the chance. But it still held sentimental value to DeSoto. Was still the one thing he wanted to keep from his bullshit family. (Other than his brother of course but that went without saying)

“D’yous even remember anything after we went t’the club?”

SARINA

The concern in Des’ voice actually had Sarina sitting up grabbing the blanket to cover herself a little bit. “No I don’t really remember anything about the club.” Sarina lifted her left hand to rub the sleep from her eyes pausing at the weight. Instead she held it out infront of her blinking at Des’ ring on her ring finger.

“Well I guess this solves that question.” Sarina held her hand up so he could see the ring was at least in the room with them and not lost to some random betting table. Glancing around Sarina looked at both his suit and her white dress and the red lingerie, which the later wasn’t surprising but a white dress.

“Do you know where your phone is?” His ring was on his ring finger, she had his on her ring finger and there was white suit and a white dress.

Sarina wasn’t sure this could go anywhere other than what she was thinking. Where was her phone?

DESOTO

His ring was on Sarina’s ring finger and Des was officially perplexed. Vaguely he remembered a fake proposal at the restaurant. Had they swapped rings so they could fake being married too? He could see how it would benefit them. This room, for one, was a fucking suite. They could have hosted a party and had people stay over if they’d wanted to. But from the looks and sounds of it they were completely alone. 

“Nah. I woke up and shut the fuckin’ curtain cuz the sun was blinding me.” Over dramatic? Absolutely. But Des was hungover and confused. He was allowed to be a bit of a drama king. 

Rummaging through the pockets of the disgustingly bedazzled suit, he found his phone and moved back to the bed. “I got a shit ton of texts from numbers that ain’t saved…” he trailed off as he opened the texts.

Each text thread was nothing but pictures. Pictures of him and Sarina at the club with a shit ton of strangers. They were clearly having a great time celebrating their fake proposal and judging by the amount of strangers in each picture they’d made plenty of friends. “Who the fuck are these people?” He huffed as he continued going through the texts. 

Nearing the end it became all too clear why Sarina was wearing his ring on her ring finger. “Apparently we made good on that fake proposal…”

SARINA

“Yes yes.” Sarina nodded along with his dramatics pulling the sheet from the bed so she could wander around her mess of clothes. (After double checking her family ring was still on her.) It would actually be smart to get Des’ off her incase she needed to use magic. If it wasn’t enchanted to withstand the heat from her blasts it wouldn’t survive.

Eventually she found her phone in a manilla envelope just as DeSoto spoke. And yup there it was… a marriage license with their names on it.

“Looks legal too.” She flipped the paper to show DeSoto. “Uh- this is weird I mean I can burn it and we pretend this never happened?” Sarina offered grabbing her phone and flopping back onto the bed. Just the movement hurt her head and she was ready to go to sleep even when she started to thumb through all the photos that had been sent to her. “Or does this make me Sarina Sykes. It’s got a ring to it.” Sarina joked coping with humor. 

DESOTO

DeSoto settled back into the bed easily, feeling the fatigue in his bones wanting to take back over. Still he took the marriage license from Sarina and looked it over with furrowed brows. He’d never contemplated marriage, never really thought he would get married. It didn’t matter to him, really. It’s not like he wanted to settle down and have what Roscoe had. He was perfectly happy being single. 

“Hate t’say it but even if yous do burn it there’s probably another copy’a this,” he shrugged as he handed it back to her. 

Laying back he let his eyes slip closed as he sighed lowly. “And s’probably more work getting it undone than it is t’get married here. S’just easier t’stay married cuz I dunno if I can be fucked t’even get back outta bed today.” A truer statement had never been spoken by DeSoto. It’d been a good while since he had partied quite that hard. Sleep sounded beautiful. 

“But we’s can do whatever yous want,” he shrugged again. “Does got a ring to it, though.” 

SARINA

Marriage, that wasn’t something Sarina had ever considered, never even considered staying in place long enough to meet someone and want to get married let alone have the time to do so.

She wasn’t a romantic, she had lost faith in humanity a lot time ago and didn’t trust enough people to give her heart to. Des was one of them but just in a way that was very different than for people that wanted to get married. 

“Honestly, I don’t really care, it’s not like it’s gonna change our lives. Neither one of us is in love with the other and I don’t see us ever being in love with each other like that.” A piece of paper didn’t change that. Maybe she was still a little bit of a romantic. Wanting what her parents had.

Lifting her left hand up she looked at his ring on her hand. “After that dream- I mean, I ran away from my family Des. Never told you guys that. After that dream, I keep thinking about dying alone. Doesn’t really feel like I’ve been a Go, in a very long time. Not sure they even think about me anymore.” Sarina really was just alone at this point.

DESOTO

He could have fallen asleep once Sarina said she didn’t care either way. They were on the same page, at least. They cared about each other but they weren’t ever looking to get married. At least now the both of them had a scapegoat of sorts when people asked. They were married to each other, now all they had to do was avoid questions about starting families and shit. Something they could easily do. 

But then Sarina brought up the dream and he knew that despite being tired, neither one of them were going to go back to sleep. There were things to unpack, things they had tried to run from by going to Vegas. 

So instead, he shifted to sit up and lean against the headboard and wrap an arm around Sarina so he could pull her closer. 

“I—- I get it,” he started quietly. “Me and Ros… we did the same thing sorta. But we got our own definition of what being a Sykes is. A little bit of our upbringing is in it but mainly it’s just us deciding what we wanna be. If your family don’t think of yous? Fuck ‘em. Yous got a family here. With me and Ros. Or whoever yous want. They can’t accept yous or somethin’ then yous too good for ‘em.”

SARINA

Moving with the touch Sarina curled into DeSoto. Maybe it wouldnt be bad being married to your best friend. There was barely any tax benefits though considering most of their work was illegal.

It was just Sarina wished she could agree with him. Fuck them. But it wasnt that easy, she was the bad guy in this situation.

"It wasnt that, my parents were killed at a magick rights protest, for the longest time my brothers and I always went with them fought with them. When they were killed I stopped fighting, the boys didnt. But I had to step in as a primary caregiver to them. They were utterly useless. I was the one that abandoned them." The dream just brought the guilt back stronger. 

"Used to have a secret identity and be a vigilante if you would believe it."

DESOTO

Okay. Okay. DeSoto had no idea how to deal with dead parents. He wanted and actively planned how to kill his own father. He wasn’t a good guy. Had never been a good guy. Part of him couldn’t believe that Sarina had once been one of the good guys. But—- she hadn’t ever really opened up to him like this either, so there had to be truth to it. 

“What made yous leave ‘em?” He asked it carefully, making sure to keep his hold on her light so that if she wanted to distance herself she could. Some family things were tough to talk about. There was a lot that he didn’t talk about or even acknowledge so he definitely understood that. 

But he wanted to know more about this part of Sarina’s life. Especially if it was something that was bothering her this much. He could be a safe place for her if that was what she needed. 

SARINA

"I was going to break, even when I was in University I was falling down a rabbit hole that I could barely see the light of. We were there fighting for magick rights and it was thrown in our faces, or we would try using our powers to help someone and we would be looked at like monsters." Sarina had planned to go into early education. She had wanted to help.

"The boys never saw it like that, they would keep helping but they lacked common sense. Would rush in without even thinking about it. Our parents held us together. Without them… I couldnt do it. I stopped caring about helping, I stopped caring about the things I couldnt control. I could kill myself over it or I could try to live. The boys wanted me to fill the void my parents left and I couldn't do it." The more she spoke about it the guiltier she felt.

"This ring is a family heirloom." Sarina held up her right hand for Des to see the simple silver band. "Enchanted to handle the heat from my energy blasts." 

DESOTO

There were times that DeSoto actually forgot that Sarina was a Magick. He’d seen her use her magic but it still slipped his mind. Maybe because it wasn’t in your face like some but whatever it was he often treated it like out of sight out of mind. It didn’t matter to him that she was a Magick. Did it mean he cared about every other Magick out there? Absolutely not. He still thought there needed to be better policing of them out there but those thoughts didn’t pertain to her. 

“That ain’t your fault, y’know,” he said instead. And it was true. Not wanting to be and do what her brothers wanted wasn’t wrong in any way. A hard concept to grapple with but true all the same. “I mean… I ain’t the son my pops wanted. And— yeah it sucks but, end of the day? I’m my own person.” Even if it wasn’t true and Des was always destined to be a follower. 

Taking her hand, he looked over the ring before locking their fingers together. This was, perhaps, the most tender he’d ever been with someone. “Don’t feel bad yous couldn’t be something someone else wanted yous t’be. ‘Sides, yous wouldn’t be married t’me if yous had been.”

SARINA

Sarina let out a small laugh at that, leave it to Des to boil it down to something so simple. But he wasnt wrong. If she had stayed she wouldnt have met Des or the people she cared about at the Court.

Never would have met Drakken and dealt with his antics. She might not even be here still if she had stayed. 

"Maybe one day I'll be strong enough to check in on them. But right now you think it's okay to weasel myself into your family. Be a Sykes." She wouldnt go around calling herself one, they might be married but they werent about to boast about it unless the situation needed it. 

But it was truly more for herself than it was for other people. 

“Do I get to keep the ring then?”

DESOTO

Sarina’s question was a silly one. Even though they hadn’t been married before she was still a part of his family. He cared for her just as much as he cared for Roscoe. Their bond was unbreakable. But he knew this was a rare moment for the two of them. A small bit of vulnerability shared in the quiet of the morning. 

It was a new and terrifying type of relationship for DeSoto but he knew that Sarina would never betray him. 

“Course yous a Sykes. Was one before we got married,” he huffed even as he pulled her closer. “Be a great addition to the family.” 

Shifting so that they could both lay down again, Des shrugged at the next question. “Long as you’s don’t melt it? Sure.”

SARINA

Sarina smiled against his chest, maybe it wasn’t the most conventional marriage and maybe they would get divorced one day. But the very thought of this giving her a place to call home no matter what. It was kind of nice.

For someone who had her guard up all the time, it was nice to be vulnerable for once.

“No melting, don’t worry I have a way to make sure it’s fine.” And it seemed like a trip back to Italy was in order, it was about time she at least kept her parents wedding bands with her again. Maybe she could stop running in pieces.

But for now, sleep was good, curled up against her husband, they would deal with anything else after they woke up again.

[skunts-own-truth]

I’m sure a lot of us sat down to watch the ol’ Snyder cut last night. Never saw the first rollout of the Justice League film, just clips, and “limp dick” is kinda the best way I can describe the scenes I saw. This new long bitch of a movie Mr. Snyder put together, well heck, I can’t lie: I sorta loved it.

I’ve been over super heroes for a bit. Wandavision, to me, was a soulless, directionless, themeless mess of a show. Marvel and its films are generally sterile action flics, with no sense of Rule of Cool or sexy to them in the slightest. They’re boring, and have been boring for a good long time. The last one I really enjoyed was Infinity War, but in the end I was just horny for Thanos and didn’t actually care for the movie itself, and that was after years of being tired of Marvel already. Overall, super heroes in film have become a bit of a wet blanket, with a few shining gems sticking out to say “hey, look, I’m actually trying to be art and not just the next billion dollar black hole on popular culture!”

The Snyder cut was one of those films I’d call art, like Iron Man 3, and Birds of Prey. It’s stylish, it looks good, the characters are at least workable characters, there’s a touch of sex appeal with some hot dudes who are actually allowed to be hot, and it seems to legitimately like it’s own source material- which leads me to say, usually in a super hero-type picture, I always get this feeling they’re trying to... market dumb, nerd bullshit to everyone. Well, they are, yeah? But, it feels like they find the source material icky, and they gotta “elevate” it somehow, to make it less nerdy and more watchable by Steve Rickson at the local sports bar. Mr. Snyder’s Snyder Cut the Movie does not do that. It’s wacky, it’s nerdy as fuck, and it slaps you in the face with the whole Gods & Monsters aesthetic. It’s fun!

Of course, there are some things I didn’t like. I actually didn’t mind the four hour run time. I didn’t feel it. I usually feel time passing in movies real bad. Ask me wife, my usual review of any film is “coulda been an hour shorter,” or “man I wish they cut a third of this movie out.” I like short flicks. Never been a fan of the three hour blockbuster. Snyder’s cut? I did not mind four hours at all. HOWEVER, the epilogue is kinda bullshit, and the final fight with Doctor T. Steppenwolf was pretty anticlimactic since it just had Supeloops come in and punch him a few times.

There’s also some inexplicable lines in the film. Like, some weird ass quotes in there that feel... like they’re trying to be cool, but the characters just didn’t know what to say? It’s not played for laughs, it’s just weird. Mr. Batman is told “I didn’t think you were real.” And B-boy replies “I’m real when it’s convenient.” Right, good one Bruce.

Oh, there’s this weird scene with the Flash, where he like, slowly caresses a girl’s face while he’s running-good. The wife tells me it was sweet, but it made me feel a little icky. Luckily, Big Quick never does it again in the film. I also think the Flash’s first few lines are dog-shit, but after a while the fast feller really grew on me. I like Snyder’s take on the Flasher’s power. It’s cool, man.

When all is said and done, this felt like a comic book movie that was actually trying to be one. I liked it, though it had a few stinky parts in there. It still was way more fun than Endgame ever had a chance to be, and darn, this movie actually knew how to do an action sequence unlike that last Wonder Woman picture what-with the kitty lady. Between this, Birds of Prey, and Aquaman, I’ll say I’m really liking a lot of the ol’ DC films coming out. Not all of them are sluggers, impressing me with their style and vibe, but the Snyder cut, Fishboy, and Funnygirls were all breaths of fresh air in a long decaying style of flick.

No part of me believes this is the film that woulda came out in theaters if Mr. Snyder got to release his first cut of the movie, but I like this. I’m curious to watch the ol’ flaccid feller’s version of the movie now, and probably will this weekend. I hear it’s a bit of a house fire, so I’m looking forward to it.

Side note; I watched the Sonic movie, desperately, desperately hoping it was a crock of horse-shit... sadly, the worst happened: I thought it was fun and cute, and liked it. And YOU VIDEO GAME PEOPLE, who complained, and got Sonic’s body changed... we could have had it all, you bastards. We could have seen that terrible creature FLOSSING in the Fortnite sense, and it would have been awful. But instead, we got what we got. You fuckers, you absolute basement hogs... suck on a carrot, you pricks, ruining the joy I could have had at seeing that Nightmare. It’s your fault I was forced to like the Sonic movie, you Amy Rose body-pillow having rodents.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E85 (Nov. 19, 2019)

Here we go! Tonight’s guests are Marisha Ray and Liam O’Brien.

It’s the 3-year anniversary of Talks Machina! Everyone talks first impressions. Liam: “I tried to compare it to all the other talk shows related to Dungeons and Dragons and how they do it...”

Brian: “Talks Machina: It’s Good Enough(TM)”

Announcements: the Adventures of the Darrington Brigade one-shot is happening live in Austin, Texas this Saturday! They ask that anyone in attendance at the show avoid spoilers---it will be aired online for everyone on the 29th at 7PM! Brian has a special thank-you for everyone who watched the Undeadwood finale: he appreciates all the wonderful feedback and misses all the characters so much. Liam: “You two people sitting here have created something really, really beautiful, and I’m so proud of you both.” For the month of November, CR has partnered with OSD.

Twelve minutes in, we get a title screen, so it’s time for...

Episode 85: The Threads Converge

Stats for this week’s episode: Caleb cast his twentieth Magic Missile spell this episode. Caleb also cast his tenth Cat’s Ire spell. “Well, we haven’t been around horses much, so not a lot of call for it.” Beau used her 200th ki point for Patient Defense.

How long has Beau liked Jester? “I have been obviously tagged in this question a few times, and thinking about it all weekend and up until now, how I’m going to answer it. And it’s hard, because there’s no real defining moment. [to Liam] You’ve been through this before. It just happened. Like relationships. Just... they’ll do something, and it kind of cocks your head, and you’re like, aw, fuck, that was cute. And you go like, hm. And you forget about that, and something happens. And then they build. And then they build.” She highlights that Beau wouldn’t have let Jester dress her up if there wasn’t something going on there. “The way she views things. She’s very empathetic and looks at things from a positive-- in a weird way, she reminds me of Keyleth, where she sees the good in everybody first. Fuck, that’s endearing.” Getting into the campaign, Marisha didn’t want a relationship in this one, and got a bit blindsided by Beau’s feelings.

Liam brings back the Cuddlefish voice.

There’s an accidental ad for Men’s Warehouse, as you do. And much discussion of pistachios.

Caleb hasn’t been consciously connected to Rexxentrum for a long time, and before that he was a farmboy from the outskirts, but it’s still a part of him. “He did spend a couple of years enjoying Rexxentrum. My sense of Rexxentrum is that it’s more the heart of old Zemnian. That shit stays with you. Yeah, he still feels very much a part of that.”

Beau’s feelings for Jester are much more, and “non-comparable” to her previous flings. “Sex for Beau has always been like a bandaid.” Liam mentions, as a viewer, that he’s curious about how the dynamic between the three might change once Yasha comes back.

“If you’ve been paying attention through the campaign, Caleb’s been very protective with [Jester] with her mother and her search for her father, because he’s fucked up his situation beyond reparation, but she can have the things she wants.” That was a conscious decision. “Kids should have that. Young people should have that. Everyone should have that.”

The show in a nutshell: 

Brian: “Let’s check the tape, Steve.” 

Dani: “I’m right.”

“Beau feels like her dad is a shithead, so she’s gonna feel like, well, if your dad’s a shithead, then fuck your shithead dad. Beau is desperately compartmentalizing all that.” She mentions that for all the times Kamordah has been brought up, they still haven’t made it there, and Beau’s starting to prepare for the possibility of actually having to go back.

Liam and Marisha talk about how amazing an actor Laura is and how much fun it is to watch her do improv scenes like the discussion with the Gentleman at the table. Marisha: “It’s so much fun to work across from as an actor.”

Cosplay of the Week: the entire Mighty Nein, all by Christina Silvoso (xtinaiscrafty on Twitter)!

Caleb isn’t sure how focused he is on the crisis at hand versus just being freaked out at being back in Rexxentrum. Caleb’s major drives in life are starting to feel small and less significant: “he doesn’t really want to believe that, and he really wants to stay focused on his narrow”. Both Caleb and Liam are freaked out (and also excited, in Liam’s case) at the potential for Caleb’s backstory coming back to haunt him here.

Beau’s definitely been thinking about the Cobalt Soul’s connection to Ioun lately. “I kind of view Beau as someone who goes to catholic school because it’s better than the public schools in the area. I never imagined religion as being Beau’s rebellious point, so I think she was always just like, aw, fuck, aw, cool, this bitch seems awesome. Just, yeah, fine with it. She doesn’t have a lot of emotional investment, but yeah, I’ve thought about it.”

Caleb sees similarities between himself and Yasha: “first of all, I feel like they’re the two nerdy loner outsider kids in class who don’t talk to each other, but just look over and go, hey, you’re fucked up like me too. And then they also have-- they’re both murderers, and they have both been, and one is currently being manipulated and abused in the extreme. So Caleb hasn’t made Yasha his number one driving focus, but he empathizes with her a great deal.”

Caleb feels like he doesn’t know enough about the Assembly to judge Yussah’s assertion that not all of them are bad. “He might talk a good game about how the Assembly needs to be eradicated, but it’s more personally motivated. No question that Trent is a monster, and I think that the leadership of that organization is pretty wacky, but one or two neutral parties in there.”

How does anti-authority Beau feel about getting placed in higher and higher positions of authority? “Oh, fuckin’ great, it’s what she always wanted. Doing great, yeah. Fuck yeah, look at me now, bitches!”

Fan Art of the Week: Nott and Caleb falling through the storm (by Alex Payne).

What was going through Caleb’s head, reading the letter from Astrid? “Letter seems like a trap. Really wonders-- he’s not optimistic, because he knows what happened to him and them, he knows the state of the Scourger they fucked with in the Dynasty, so that was a bad sign. But... I don’t want to tip the scales. I mean, Astrid is very much on his mind. So is Eodwulf, but Astrid especially. I’m really looking forward to that nut getting cracked open, and not knowing what it’s going to be.”

Beau had “a lot of regrets about Molly, and the fact that she really liked Molly and was an asshole to him the whole time. He was a big lesson to her, because they were just coming from such opposite ends of the spectrum. He ended up being a lot of the starting point of a lot of Beau’s growth. So yeah. I had that [tattoo] in mind for quite some time, and I almost just got it as a tattoo as a character” and then Orly showed up, and it worked out well, along with the all-seeing eye symbology. “It’s got layers.”

Liam on Beau confiding in Nott: “Sometimes, when you share secrets, it’s because you want to be found out.” Marisha: “How dare you. No.”

[welcometothefaelands]

Kids Say the Damndest Things

Warnings: Just a kid being a kid and saying weird shit Word Count: 759 Pumpkin belongs to the lovely @capricornrabies Tagging: @senator-nahberries​ @capricornrabies and @valkyrieofthehighfae​ Translations: mamae - mom/mommy/mama, babae - dad/daddy, da’lath’in - little heart

“Mamae,” A little voice whispered from my left. “Mamae!”

“Mmm wha-?” I shifted in Pumpkin’s arms, rolling over and opening my eyes to see my little three year old daughter standing by the side of our bed, inches away from my face, and it took everything in me not to freak out. “What is it, da’lath’in?” I mumbled tiredly, looking to see what time it was. Seven in the morning. Of course it was seven in the morning. Why wouldn’t it be?

 “Mamae, I wanna peel all your skin off.” She whispered in the most serious tone of voice she could muster, her little hands coming up to rest on my cheeks, and I lay there for a moment, trying to process what was just whispered to me in a sweet little voice, blinking rapidly a few times. Was this really happening or was it some wacky little dream I was having?

 “Pumpkin? Pumpkin honey, can you wake up please?” I rolled back over to shake my snoozing husband, who woke up quickly and looked around sleepily.

 “What? What’s wrong?”

 “Am I dreaming or is the little one standing next to me?”

 “Hi sweetie, what’re you doing up?” Pumpkin all but confirmed that yes, she was standing next to me and yes, I heard what I’d heard correctly.

 “I told mamae that I wanted to peel all her skin off,” She sounded very pleased with herself and even Pumpkin had to stop for a second to process that bit of horror.

 “Uh… okay then, honey, c’mon why don’t we go make breakfast for mamae? Mamae, what do you want for breakfast?” Pumpkin leaned down to kiss me lovingly, nuzzling his face against mine when I groaned a little bit.

 “I don’t care babae, surprise me,” I yawned, nuzzling him back tiredly, still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened. “I’ll be down soon, let me just wake up some.”

 “No, no, you stay here, we’ll do breakfast in bed today, okay?” He pressed another kiss to my forehead, followed by a wet kiss from our daughter right on the cheek before she squealed in delight as Pumpkin scooped her up before taking her downstairs. Now I could actually take a second and process what the hell just happened. She’s said some weird things before but this took the cake on weird and creepy things she’s said.

 “Oh! Wait! I’m an idiot!” It clicked after a moment and I was smacking myself in the face. I’d had a really bad sunburn the previous week and had been peeling pretty badly as it healed up and she’d seen Pumpkin peeling it off of me randomly when he’d walk past me cuz he knew it drove me nuts.

 “Who’s an idiot?” Pumpkin came in with my favorite mug of coffee, setting it down on the nightstand before kneeling down on the bed so he could lay down on me.

 “Me, I’m an idiot. Where’s the little one?” I asked him, kissing his forehead.

 “Aunty Rune came by to pick her up. Remember, she and Uncle Spooks are keeping her for the weekend so we can get a break?” He mumbled into my chest, snuggling in close to me.

 “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. Did you warn Rune about the creepy level shenanigans we’re starting our mornings with now?” I laughed, holding onto him tightly, petting his hair tenderly.

 “Didn’t get a chance to before she was telling Uncle Spooks she wanted to wear his eyes on her charm bracelet because they’re, and I quote, very pretty.” He muttered and I burst out laughing.

 “Yeah, that figures. Wonderful. We have a tiny little serial killer on our hands, babe,” I couldn’t help but sigh a little. “Oh, but I know why she said she wanted to peel all my skin off: it’s because she saw you peeling my sunburn when it started healing.”

 Pumpkin started giggling and I couldn’t help but start laughing again, too. Only our child would take it to such extremes like this. I loved my strange little family, even if we might have a tiny, deranged future murder on our hands.

 “That makes way more sense now. Still creepy, but less with that bit of information. And I will not do that again in front of her.” He snorted, moving his head so he was resting the side of his face on my shoulder instead of smashed into my chest. “Only our kid, right?”

 “Well, you know what they say babe: kids say the damndest things.”

[willowknee]

Crushes and Crazy Hair-Dying- Will fluff

Title: Crushes and Crazy Hair-Dying People: Will x reader, Gee Nelson Word count: 2,600 Warnings: drinking Songs to listen to: idk Prompt/request: Hey! If you’re not too busy please can I request some fluff with Will? Maybe the reader could be Gee’s new mate and Will gets a crush on her and becomes all awkward? Or whatever you feel like writing haha 😂 thank you xxx A/N: I’m so bloody sorry this took like 3 decades to be written, honestly dunno what happened there. Really bad grammar and punctuation in this I'm so so sorry.

You had met Gee in the most bizarre manner, but you were completely grateful that you did, she honestly was one of the most intelligent people you have ever known and crazily funny to match. It was a random sunny Tuesday, you were sitting in front of the mirror at your mother’s hair dressers, you decided for once to do something bold, you were dying your hair. Not any plain natural colours like you’re used to, no, you were dying your hair a bright colour. You weren’t exactly sure what colour as you told your mom to surprise you, but you were sure it wasn’t any ordinary brown, when out of nowhere one Gee Nelson bursted through the door and let out a cry of despair.

“Look what that monster did to me!” She had cried.

Everyone was looking at her, clearly bewildered but your mom just walked up to her and sat her in the chair beside yours.

“What happened?” Your mom had asked, looking at Gee’s hair which was, well, a complete home hair-dye disaster.

“Bloody Will! He convinced me to let him dye my hair for a video and this is what came of it! Last time I let that man come within five feet of my hair I’m telling you now,” She whined and you had let out a giggle before you could catch yourself. She turned to look at you.

“Is it that bad?” She asked.

You looked again and you knew you couldn’t lie to her.

“Horrendous, but don’t worry, you’re talking to a pro and her legendary daughter, your hair will be salvaged and the world will return to normal,” You proclaimed making her smile.

“I’ll hold you to that,” She said and you both had begun talking non-stop as your mom worked on saving her hair from the disastrous work of this ‘Will’ as you sat waiting for the dye to work it’s magic in your hair.

Six months later you were at her apartment which she shared with Will, but you had never actually met him before, only heard the wacky and wonderous stories about him and his childish antics that he and his friends got up to. Gee had actually sent you the link to his youtuber and you came to find him to actually be pretty funny and you and Gee would share memes over text or on twitter about the videos.

“Oi, Gee! What we feeling today, eh? Lazy and slobbish so we get a maccies, lazy yet somewhat classy so we order Dominos or shall we finally decide to get off our arse and go out for lunch?” You say, walking out the kitchen to where she was sitting on the settee.

“Oh, actually I just got a text from Will, he’s invited me to go for lunch with him and the rest of the boys,”

You smile slightly and hand her the cup that she always uses. “Ah alrighty, no problem. I’ll head out as soon as I’m finished with my drink then, yeah?”

She looks up at you and smiles widely, kind of freaking you out considering it was out of nowhere.

“Why don’t you come with me?!” She exclaims.

“Say what now?”

“No seriously, it will be fun! You get to meet my roommate and the rest of the crazy lot, you’re going to meet eventually when you come along to one of our parties, might as well meet them while you’re sober!”

You thought about it but really you didn’t see why not, it wasn’t like you had a valid reason to decline either, what was the worst that could happen? So, you accepted and after borrowing some of Gee’s clothes and makeup so you didn’t look like an absolute slob walking around in your paint-stained joggers and oversized hoodie, you ended up in front of Nandos where you were to meet everybody.

You both walk in, still mid conversation as you made a joke which had Gee in stitches, drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant, including the table of four boys that you were currently walking towards.

“No way, imagine that,” Gee giggles in response to your joke.

You arrive at the table and greet everyone to which they then greet you back in return.

“Hey everyone! This here is my dear friend Y/N, I invited her along so she can meet you weirdos now and get used to you before being exposed to the pure madness you all are once drunk,” Gee explains to which they all protest before simmering down and introducing themselves.

“Hi, I’m James, it’s lovely to meet you,” the one with soft features says, his brown lock slightly messy but it makes him look adorable, despite his unkempt hair he looked well put together and you could tell he put a lot of effort into his appearance.

“I’m George,” the smaller of the lot says with a soft smile, offering his hand for you to shake which you accept and gently shake his hand.

“‘Ello, I’m Alex,” the one adorning a bright pink jumper with a slogan you couldn’t quite read says, you smile and give him a small wave before turning to the last boy when your breath catches in your throat.

First of all, Will was far more attractive in person compared to in his videos or the pictures Gee has shown you, his hair mainly hidden underneath his beanie but his fringe was poking out, exposing the silky brown locks that looked soft to touch. His brown eyes looking at you, slightly widened and his mouth slightly left ajar. Was he okay? Was there something on your face? George nudges him and he looks like he broke out a trance before smiling widely.

“Hey, I’m Will,” He says, the big voice you’re used to hearing in his videos weren’t present, instead a gentle and soothing voice replaced it.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you all, I watch all of your videos and think they’re brilliant,” You compliment, sliding into the booth so you’re sat next to Gee and across from Will.

A chorus of ‘thank you’ made its rounds and you smiled at them all and began to engage in animated conversations, your arms flailing wildly as you retell the story about the time you met Gee, Will’s face becoming flushed which you found utterly adorable.

Few hours later your food was long finished but you were still sitting in the restaurant with your drinks talking to everyone as if you had been friends with these people for years.

“I need to pop to the loo, come with me?” Gee asks you.

You nod in confirmation and tell everyone you’ll be right back before walking with Gee into the toilets, lifting yourself up to sit on the counter.

“So, how’s meeting everyone?” She asks through a stall door.

“They’re absolutely lovely,” you exclaim, turning to look at your reflection in the mirror.

“Have a liking to anyone in particular?” She asks in a suggestive tone, which makes you look at the stall door through the mirror in confusion.

“I don’t know… a certain Northern lad with brown hair, brown eyes and has been looking at you like a lost puppy for the past three hours.”

Your heart leaped at the thought of Will looking at you while you were busy talking to others, not realising.

“I-“

“Was staring at him too, you’re not subtle either of you,”

You stumble for words while Gee laughs softly, walking out the stall and over to the sinks to wash her hands. You look down at her and curse her for being so observant.

“He’s cute… and funny, doesn’t necessarily mean I have a liking to him, if we’re going by those two adjectives then I must have a liking to everyone sitting at that table. Including you.”

“Oh come off it, you know you like Will, stop being a big baby and admit it,”

“I literally met him three hours ago, this isn’t a Disney film I can’t fall in love with him and accept his hand in marriage just because we’ve got a mutual attraction,”

Gee nods and smiles.

“You wanna marry him, huh?”

You nudge her and shake your head. Both of you head out and back to the table before noticing everyone’s getting up and leaving, you notice you still have almost a full glass of beer so you decide to neck it in one, eliciting whoops and hollers from

everyone and you laugh and shyly wipe away the froth from your face.

Everyone begins to head out but you hang back,

not wanting to have to walk fast so as to not get trampled on.

“Are you coming to the party this weekend?”

You turn your head and see Will standing next to you, looking sheepish which makes you smile.

“I believe I am, yes, Gee would have my head else,” you joke which makes him laugh.

“She is a fiesty one I’ll give you that,”

“Too right she is, damn woman frightens me,”

You both laugh and continue the journey back to Will’s and Gee’s apartment, joking with each other the entire way there. Gee joins in at some point but soon dips to talk to everyone else since you were walking too slowly for her liking.

Once back at theirs you all play a few rounds of fifa which you were absolutely shit at which Will spares no effort to remind you of that, but soon it’s time for you to go home since you still have to clean your apartment and get some studying done.

“See you on Saturday yeah?” Will shouts which you smile and nod at in agreement.

“It’s a date.” You say before walking out the door with a wave.

Will sits there, mouth agape. He turns his head to Gee and points to the door.

“She said it’s a date,”

“It’s not like you had the balls to do it,” she comments before standing up and walking towards the stairs, discreetly watching Will

dance around happily with a smile.

Saturday came around faster than you thought it would, although it seems like it took forever because you are looking forward to seeing Will again. You’ve been texting non-stop since you all went out for that meal but you haven’t had the time to go and meet them, so you are excited for tonight. You want to make sure you looked amazing.

Grabbing your clothes and makeup you shove them into your bag alongside some alcohol for pre-drinks that you had promised. You drive to Gee’s and Will’s to get ready with her while listening to a playlist you had created sometime ago, you had suddenly remembered the password to your Spotify and decided to reminisce with some old tunes.

The drive seems quicker with the music accompanying you and you find yourself walking towards the apartment building and soon enough, you’re knocking on their door.

“Come in~!” You hear from inside.

“Gee!” You greet as you walk up to her and give her a hug.

“Let’s go get ready! We’re late enough as it is!”

Getting ready goes without a hitch, no mental breakdowns, no wardrobe malfunctions and even your makeup goes on well. It’s almost as if things were perfect. Maybe too perfect.

“It’s time to partyyy~” Gee squeals down your ear excitedly.

It turns out the party has moved from Will’s and Gee’s apartment to George and Alex’s because of their next-door neighbours, which explains when Gee walks past she sticks two fingers up in payback and squeals with laughter all the way to the elevator.

You giggle at her childish antics and balance yourself in the lift, cursing yourself for not eating before you both began pre-drinks. You eventually end up at the party, after multiple trips and snapchat videos of each other acting a complete fool. “We are here!” Gee shouted as she threw open the front door. There was a massive roar of ‘welcome’ as you both stumble your way deeper into the apartment. You found the usual friendship group aka the Nandos Lot, and you smiled brightly and you wave enthusiastically at everyone, genuinely happy to see each and every one of them.

“Y/N! Glad you came!” Alex chimes, coming for a hug, which everyone else shortly repeats, not wanting to feel left out.

Everyone but Will, that was, who was sheepishly stood to the side, when he noticed you were looking at him expectantly, arms open, his eyes widen as he began stuttering something about needing a drink before running off towards the kitchen. You shrug his odd behaviour off and began looking for a drink, you quickly whip up a concoction and then after you down the entirety of your red solo cup, you walk back to your friends, grab the closest pair of hands and walk into the middle where the make-shift dance floor was.

Dancing freely to the music blasting through the speakers and barely being concealed through the wide walls of the boy’s apartment, you smile up to your dancing partner and to your pleasant surprise you see Will looking at you in bewilderment.

“Come on! I didn’t drag you here to stand there! Dance with me!” After a lot of convincing and a couple dozen shots, Will finally calmed down and began dancing with you, you both started to have a really enjoyable time. You began to notice how he seemed to have a childish glint to his eyes while drunk, he looked really happy and carefree this way. You loved the way he was constantly smiling and let out a rupture of laughs at your choice of dance moves and even his silliness when he took you up on your offer of a dance battle.

“You should be like this sober! You’re so much fun to be around!” You exclaim, grabbing his hands as you try to twirl around to which he aids you with, not bothering to stop twirling you which makes your head spin.

“I would but I always end up makin’ myself look like a right tit in front of the lass i have a crush on,” he explains, nonchalantly, seemingly not realising what he was saying.

You stop twirling and look at him as much as you could, the alcohol and the twirling wasn’t the greatest mix when you were looking for stability,

“You have a crush on me?” You ask in surprise.

Who would have thought. Will fucking Lenney had a crush on you. Of all people. You were ready to scream with excitement when his eyes bugged out, he looked scared and began to curse himself under the sun for his slip.

“Naw- fuck, I just meant that- no, I-” He began tripping over his words and you giggle over how cute he was.

You raise yourself onto your tip-toe and give him a shy peck on the lips, it only lasted a short few seconds, but it left your lips tingling and you smile wide at him.

“Will, I like you too, dummy,”

He smiles one of the most gorgeous smiles you have seen like ever, and shyly pulls you closer to him.

“How’d ya feel about ditching and coming back to mine? We can watch a movie and get to know each other more,”

You giggle at that.

“Sure, let’s play two truths, one lie, for each wrong answer we take a shot, for every right answer, you get a kiss,” you proclaim with a smile.

“You’re fuckin on, Love.”

[that-bl-bitch]

30 day BL challenge: Day 9

Favourite side couple?

I gonna try to make this one shorter than my usual cause I feel like I make them too long and ain't nobody got time to read that, so yeah mantype is favorite side couple obvi because they were just so sweet and wacky and dumb lol like man was like "I'm gonna go invest an entire weekend to go to this silent retreat that I know nothing about to talk to this guy I met once and I'm not gonna end up talking to him at all thus missing him  once again" I just really liked how hard he tried to find him after only speaking one word to him because he fell for him just like that like sure I understand how his methods could come off as annoying but like they were also really sweet. Also fuckety fuck that guy that only invited man to their dinner only to make him self look better, and like the shit he was saying made no fucking sense, asking him about his future like he suppose have it all figured out down to the detail like he a university student calm the fuck down alright.

SOME OF MY FAVORITE MOMENTS

•when man finds out that type the boy he been looking for forever happened to tines brother, cause he was just like "oh wait til his brother shows up cause I'm gonna go in" and then he sees that it's type and he just melts and starts to hit on him heavy not even trying to be subtle about it

•When it was revealed that type saw and noticed him every single time meaning he pretended to not recognize him when tine introduced him to the group

•When type told him that he didn't need all the fancy things that he could get from that dick of a guy and that he just needed someone to be around to take care of him who was nice and sweet and that was man

•When type barged into his class or seminar or whatever and he was just like pissed cause he stopped showing up, and man had  warned him before hand he said "you're gonna miss me if I stop coming around" and what did he do? miss him, and when he told him basically he stopped coming around because he wanted to get his life together and figured out things so he could be mature enough for him but he was like "I don't want that, who told you I wanted that, I like you the way you are" and then the hug was p r e c i o u s

•And then last moment was just them at the end, when they went to go see sarawat at the band thingy and man was like "my boyfriend" he was so giddy to say it and their little cafe moment was adorbs

they just seem like a really stable couple like I can seem them having arguments and just quickly getting over it idk and they just seen so comfortable with each other so fast like I don't know how to explain it

[lovelylapins]

ok so a while back i asked if anyone would be interested in a list of my favorite fics written by me so finally, i’ve complied a list of my personal fav fics, by me. here we go:

those moments: probably my favorite out of everything. marinette and adrien are on opposing sides of a war, leaders of armies, and constantly fighting with each other in battles. somehow throughout the course of it all, though, marinette’s caught with feelings towards him, a surge of emotions that occurs only in those moments. yeah... i love her i reread her the most.

call me, text me: based off of this text post, it’s a nice look at what would happen if ladybug and chat noir got phones to text each other on outside of the suits. and as always, chaos occurs. personally speaking, i like to think the end of chapter 2 is amongst one of my FAVORITE endings to a chapter ever. it’s one that i laugh at as a writer, and shuddered in fear at when faced with continuing.

“hey, is this seat free?”: adrien’s en route home from nyc fashion week, and his dad’s newest intern, marinette, is sat next to him during the flight home. when she ends up falling asleep on him though, he has no other choice but to put up with it because hey, she’s cute. (pls omg i live for this it’s so <33333)

coffee shops and long talks: a tumblr request that turned into a nice fic... a soft intimate talk between marinette and adrien in a coffee shop before they have to talk to gabriel... who they’re currently visiting in prison. already a fast fav just because i cannot stand that bitch gabriel... and also like marinette being there for him.

i think i like you too much: there are some fics i’m like “oh check this one out!!” and there’s others i’m like “you gotta read this” and this fic is the latter one, no question about it. adrien and marinette start fake dating because adrien has no way of explaining to his dad that marinette’s just a friend, and marinette agrees before thinking it through... of course though, as clued in by the summary, fake dating leads to real feelings.

clockwork: spy au!! marinette is a highly skilled spy stuck on a case with adrien agreste, another accomplished spy... and her ex. cue tension in between the two as they work together to solve the case, and work together to sort through all their conflicted feelings from a mission they never could finish.

color crush: colorblind soulmate au!!! i love soulmate aus!! so much!!! they’re so !! gosh i love this one it’s like 5k and i wrote it in like two days i stg i reread it again this weekend and yeah... it’s so DKDJDS god i love it idc about anything but soulmates

advance: kagami/marinette. maybe my favorite one written this summer. it’s short, sweet, and gets to the point; which is ofc kissing. read it first then come back here for no hesitation hehe

come here with me: time travel + royalty! it was suggested as a prompt on tumblr, and quickly became one of my favorite fics ever... it’s so CUTE omg the longing, the soft intimate touches, the way they TALK holy shit (also it’s marichat wig)

between friends: haha what if ladybug and chat noir didn’t know each other outside of the suits... and revealed their identities to each other?? wouldn’t that be a wacky thing to think about? haha yeah it’s a fic and i’m always for post reveal pre relationship adrienette

i’m fallin’ like a summer rain: my summer baby... a month’s work of time went into this bad boy.,, ladynoir dating but too scared to expose their relationship in fear of what hawkmoth would do should he find out their identities so they keep it hidden.. yeah. read it if you like yelling at me for my endings <3

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | three

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | three | next • —

“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo’s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?  

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera...  Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.