#one that says I want attention to some of my posts

[redjennies]

*long sigh*

all right this is one of my most resurrected posts and to be quite honest, i think most people get what I'm saying here, but it could be clarified because the second it gets away from a circle of people who get it, people seem to lose the thread pretty quick. it was about a trend I noticed regarding the types of fans C3 was both attracting and whose voices were being heavily elevated within the fandom. with the campaign ending, it only feels right to say my final piece about it and be done with it.

first, this post is about whose stories and voices are centered in fandom. it is not about the cast (though having a predominantly white, culturally Christian, US American cast does influence it because they are telling stories from that lens.) it is not even really about the characters, themselves, and whether this is. it's about the fans, and specifically, it is about the lack of compassion and desire to understand, I see a particular type of white (often for lack of better word, "WASP"-y: raised middle class, culturally Christian, and/or US American/English/Canadian/etc) queer fan extend to anyone who falls out of an extremely narrow lens of "this is the default queer experience" or heaven forbid, to people who are not queer but are marginalized in other ways.

it is about how this phenomenon happens because they have been trained to see their queerness as their only identity (and therefore, in their arrogance, the only identity that matters) as it is the only thing about them that deviates from that WASP-y "default." through this lens, stories that are not relatable to that audience are largely ignored unless they are exceptional enough to be the "Academy-Approved POC Film of the Year" to be tokenized by white liberal audiences and stories that do touch on queerness but are primarily about other things like race/class/disability/etc are whitewashed into something more palatable for that hegemonic "default" audience to the point where it is practically unrecognizable from the original story. this is not unique to CR. this happens across all audiences and therefore, all fandoms.

clearly, this phenomenon leads to a problem in fandoms. if we are not extending empathy to the characters and stories that discuss perspectives that may be different than our own, than we will not be extending empathy to the real breathing humans who see their experiences (or the experiences of people they have known) in those stories. there was this post or article about why we need better POC representation that I read way back in the day and have never been able to find again that really stuck with me that said something along the lines of "we don't need representation because no black person can relate to George Costanza or Rachel Green. we already do. the problem is that white writers and audiences do not relate to black people and that shows through the kind of black characters white writers create." and I think that sentiment is relevant to what I'm getting at here. a lot of white queer fans on tumblr are often half-listening when a story is told, choosing to only pay attention when things are about them because at the end of the day, they have the privilege to do so. therefore, the fanworks they create reflects that lack of interest. the metas and fanon they write reflect that lack of interest. soon enough, the fandom itself reflects that lack of interest.

and worse yet, because queer people are an oppressed group (and to clarify, I don't want to come across like I'm saying just because we're white queers, we're not "really oppressed" or whatever), this lack of interest and compassion for people who are different than you becomes actively celebrated in fandom spaces. you have relatively privilege white queer people on tumblr loudly proclaiming characters only matter if they're gay, stories only matter if they're queer, and so on and so on. which on some level is fine if you prioritize reading and watching stories that have to do with queerness, but you do need to be aware of a massive bias you may have to what "queer stories" even are and how you are interacting with them and who you are leaving out. a great example of this is why every time there's a black bisexual male love interest in a video game, y'all keep calling him "too straight" and therefore "boring" and then getting mad and defensive when someone calls you on it. like I mean-- hit dogs holler. ¯\_(*ツ)_/¯

anyway, I was going to close with tying this concept back into CR and how there was a rot that permeated C3 and how this attitude straight up alienated a lot of fans. (god knows I got shouted out of this fandom until it got so dully unpleasant that I couldn't bring myself to give a damn anymore, and sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, I hope everyone who participated in the near constant harassment I received for the great crime of maybe being annoying as I made my little jokes and shared my thoughts has a bad fucking life. fuck you. learn how to use the block button.) but @utilitycaster who has been following this campaign as well as other actual play shows a lot more closely than I have already touched on that in a pretty dead-on post that I highly recommend.

so here is what I will end on, the phenomenon I've been describing throughout this post is in no uncertain terms, a form of bigotry, and as far as the people who have to live with that oppression are concerned, a queer bigot is not any less harmful than a straight bigot, in the same way a female bigot is not any less harmful than a male bigot. so if you sincerely want to your spaces to be more inclusive and aren't just saying that to "do a leftism," you have to accept your own part in that, regardless of who you are. you have to stop and pay attention to what kind of perspectives you might be ignoring, and stop immediately shouting at people because you interpreted what they said in bad faith. you have to learn how to just shut up sometimes and be a little reflective. i'm not always great at that, but it's a skill you have to practice even if you fuck up. you can always change your mind with new information and new ideas and new perspectives, but if you instinctively chase off everyone who might be willing to talk about something you've never considered before because you're more concerned about being right than learning, you're going to get a rot in your community that is really hard to get rid of once it festers enough. because if you've been told your whole life that the rot is the default and that it is normal and that it's the way it should be, you're never going to notice it's even there.

tbh the Critical Role fandom, along with most fandoms, has a problem with centering easily digestible metaphors for white queer experiences (and even then only those that check all the boxes of the purity list) at the cost of seeing stories through the lens of race, class, mental and physical disabilities and how those can intersect with queer experiences.

for example, putting an unnecessary amount of effort into proving Jester's attraction to Fjord is compulsory heterosexuality while ignoring that Fjord and Jester were both explicitly biracial characters from different class backgrounds and how that class difference intersected with their self image. a general refusal to really interact with Chetney as a character that is heavily coded as mentally ill and uninterested in being "cured." Veth being deemed the token straight Karen despite being a young rural mother of color struggling with addiction and having an arc that was heavily coded as trans, and Ashton, a nonbinary lower class punk with chronic pain, being considered just a man when it comes to ship wars. etc, etc.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 18: The One Where Two Roads Diverged in a Wood of GIFs and Written Words

“Lukola Crisis Hotline. How may I be of service?”

Me: Houston, we have a problem.

Dad: Do tell!

Me: You won’t believe who showed up last night! –

Dad: Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! Whoa! I don’t know what to say! Wait – let me grab my Coke and my smokes. <waiting> Okay, I’m back. So, Misty appeared out of nowhere with Thang?! Well, this just got fun! <laughing>

For clarity’s sake, my father tends to give everyone a pet name. Some of the pet names are funny; some are quite cruel. But if they help him remember who the players are in this fandom (and in any other situation), I’m game to play along. Plus, his pet names tend to add a little comedy relief to whatever is being discussed, especially when it is not an outwardly funny subject.

In Lukola-Land, Luke is “Thang” (it’s actually “Thing” – as in the hand from The Addams Family – but my dad’s accent muddles the pronunciation into “Thang”); Nicola is “Ireland,” for obvious reasons; Antonia is “Misty,” for, umm, the Clint Eastwood movie, “Play Misty for Me;” and Jake is – well, Jake is actually just “Jake” because my father finds the USS Jakola offensive. In fact, when I was discussing the recent fandom events with him on Friday evening, my dad was genuinely shocked to learn the Jakolas still existed. His pet name for the Jakolas is “Fucking Stupid,” by the way.

Moving on to the matter at hand –

There’s been so much “noise” over the past few weeks that, when taken collectively, it is rather eye-opening. We’ve got Luke’s mother posting on Facebook about “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus.” The leaked funeral video and photos (by allegedly Luke’s family). The Best in Show pap pictures of Nicola and Jake. The “just friends” interview. The disappearance of Jake (because he’s rehearsing for a play) and the sudden reemergence of Antonia.

If you’ve noticed from my recent entries on this blog, I have obviously found most of what has happened of late to be comical and not worth putting into written word. Instead, my thoughts have been dumped into GIF stories. To be honest, I was rather disappointed I couldn’t put this last part – Antonia emerging from the misty edges of the forest – entirely into a GIF story. Her reappearance was like a certain Bond villain coming back to life for the seventh time. In other words, it was total cringe. But it also altered an otherwise slow burning campfire into a motherfucking forest fire.

Me: Thoughts?

Dad: I need some time to think about this one – and a cigarette. Or two. Call me back in 15 minutes.

“Psychotic Fan Rescue Center, at your service.”

Me: You’re a dumbass.

Dad: <laughing> Well, this is insane. It makes no sense and it’s a convoluted mess. Why bring Misty back? She was killed off two seasons ago.

Me: No shit, Sherlock.

Dad: Hell, maybe this has all been a nest of vipers.

A nest of vipers? Ah, yes, the idea that we have a group of venomous snakes thrown into the same close-quartered trench – in an every-man-for-himself type situation – each taking strikes at the others whenever their backs are turned.

In Entries 1, 13, and 15 – with an emphasis on “Entry 13: The One Where the Ashes Blew Towards Us with the Salt Wind from the Sea” – I wrote about what the Lutonia narrative could look like, if real. I will not rehash in detail those entries here, but I will link them at the end of this entry if you want to read, or reread, them.

Now, the General Audience almost certainly didn’t pay a lick of attention to Antonia when she appeared alongside Luke at the Boss event held January 30 (she’s always just been a Face in the Crowd). But the sudden reappearance of Antonia stopped the Lukolas dead in their tracks because – like my dad said – she was seemingly killed off two seasons ago.

The Lukolas have suddenly found themselves at an intersection of confusion and, likely, a bit of distress. The long and winding road we’ve been traveling along has diverged into two paths – and, no, you cannot travel both.

The problem with the Lutonia narrative has always been that Luke has never formally acknowledged Antonia as his girlfriend. In fact, Luke had the perfect opportunity to do so when he posted about the Boss event on his Instagram grid – but he did not. I could rationalize the idea that Luke and Antonia wanted to keep their relationship private after the Papsmear misstep if it weren’t for the fact that Antonia has been historically loud in her social media posts. We spent the summer and fall with insinuation post after insinuation post from Antonia. Yes, all those posts that alluded to her being with Luke without any actual evidence that she was, in fact, with Luke. By the time Antonia got to “Pasta-gate” in mid-November, the Lukola fandom barely even blinked before dismissing her as, well, the antagonist from “Play Misty for Me.” And this leads to something even more problematic for the USS Lutonia – Luke has never rescued Antonia from being ridiculed and torn apart by the fandom. My dad would call – and has called – Luke a cad for this.

Jumping to the other side of this misshapen triangle, we have Nicola and her Assassin (my dad’s pet name for JVN). Assuming Lutonia is real, the only logical answer for Nicola’s behavior is that she has spent months trolling Luke, Antonia, and <gasp> the fandom. Nicola herself has admitted to being chronically online and, at a minimum, being aware of fan edits – so much so that during the London premiere she commented that she and Luke “can’t do anything” without the fandom reacting to it. Therefore, I will call “foul” on anyone who tries to persuade me that Nicola was unaware of, at a minimum, how the Lukola fandom had reacted to the Claddagh ring, Chaos Week, and the October airplane posts. JVN openly mocking Antonia on social media with, for example, their Slick Back Bun routine only added fuel to this fire.

For shits and giggles – and so I can get to the bend in this road – we will roll with my dad’s “Nest of Vipers” theory for a moment. We will concede that Lutonia is real, which, in my opinion, makes Luke the absolute worst boyfriend in London and Antonia a woman who doesn’t mind being treated like roadkill. It also, unfortunately, makes Nicola and Fan Favorite JVN come off like online bullies – with the only plausible reasoning for the bullying being that Luke and Nicola are at odds with each other. No, I take that back – they’re not at odds with each other – they’re seemingly at war with each other. I’ll even amp this up a bit and throw in the suggestion that, assuming Lutonia is real, Netflix & Co. is aware of the strife between its two Polin actors and are protecting their asset with blurred Polin-Lukola posts to pacify the fandom. Dun-Dun-DUNN! And yes! That was a sly nod to Jake.

Me: Thanks for that. You just made Luke into an absolute prick and gave Antonia’s starring role in “Play Misty for Me” to Nicola.

Dad: Hey, I’m not the one who dug up Misty! That was all Thang!

Me: Then why does everyone say Luke is the nicest person? Nicola, his co-stars –  

Dad: All lies.

Me: Would you STOP?!

Dad: But I’m serious! Thang could be a complete pig behind closed doors and Ireland could be on the verge of a psychotic meltdown because, uhh, maybe she’s obsessed with Thang and pissed he chose Misty.

The unfortunate thing about this Nest of Vipers theory is that I could almost certainly make a convincing argument that it was legit. I’ve always joked with my Inner Circle of Lukolas that no one wants to see me go rogue, especially not – I’ll bite my tongue on that one. But I will emphasize the importance of keeping an open mind when you’re reviewing information. Always consider both sides of the coin. That said, it’s hard to ignore the evidence that was presented to us through the World Tour interviews and behind-the-scenes footage; therefore –

Me: I’m having a hard time believing Luke is someone who wouldn’t protect his girlfriend. He seems to support Nicola online quite a bit. Why wouldn’t he do the same for Antonia?

Dad: <laughing> Fine. Antonia isn’t his girlfriend. Maybe it’s all just a bunch of fuckery like I’ve always said.

“Fuckery” is my dad’s pet name for PR bullshit. If you didn’t pick up on it in previous entries, I am not fond of PR theories. But I also cannot ignore that PR relationships do exist and have for decades (hell, we could go back centuries and find examples of PR relationships across multiple noble and royal families – think about that, naysayers). It was my dad who first sold me on the possibility of Antonia being PR. So, I will consider this road to PR-ville in the same manner as I did the Nest of Vipers theory – with this PR theory having perhaps the better claim.

I mentioned earlier that the General Audience almost certainly paid little attention to Antonia’s existence at the Boss event. Although some people may find what I’m about to say a bit unkind, it doesn’t make it any less valid (and I’m not saying it to be cruel): Antonia, in the overall scheme of things, is of very little importance to the General Audience. She has less than 15 thousand followers on Instagram, even after being connected to a man who has almost three million. However, oddly enough, that didn’t prevent the Daily Mail from dropping a story which predominantly focused on Antonia within the same timeframe that images from the Boss event were being dropped on the Internet. It also didn’t prevent video footage of Luke and Antonia at the Boss event from being leaked online almost immediately – even when there were undoubtedly more famous celebrities attending the event. I’ll be realistic with this next comment, too: Luke may be relevant to the Bridgerton fandom, but that does not mean he is significant to, say, People Magazine’s average reader. So, why the sudden burst of publicity at this event?

I waited to write this entry to see what Luke did with the exposure from the Boss event. Would he finally put Antonia on his Instagram grid? Would he put her in his Instagram stories? Would Antonia post pictures from the event on her Instagram grid or stories? Would Luke unambiguously acknowledge a relationship with Antonia?

Although Luke posted to his Instagram grid and stories about the event, he did not include Antonia – at least not directly. The closest he came to including Antonia was via an Instagram story – on which he did not tag her – of a black screen with a link to a Boss TikTok that included images of Luke and Antonia from the event. The TikTok did not tag Antonia either. Luke did not post Antonia’s image to his grid or his stories.

And Antonia didn’t post about the event at all.

I wasn’t sold on a PR narrative when I started writing this entry, but my eyebrows raised when I saw Luke’s “black screen” Instagram story. This was either Luke attempting to circumvent the Lutonia narrative while throwing Antonia a bone, or it was Luke being an absolute douche of a human being. And, if it’s the latter, Mr. Newton needs to check himself into Assholes Anonymous.

I will concede that a couple of mutuals put up a few stories about the event (which disappeared after 24 hours) and Boss included (and tagged) Luke and Antonia in an Instagram and TikTok reel – without formally identifying Antonia as Luke’s girlfriend. On a side note, Luke could have reposted either of these reels – which tagged Antonia – but he did not. Luke also did not like this Boss Instagram reel with Antonia in it (and he does not have a public TikTok account), but Luke did like a separate Boss post of him and David Beckham (without Antonia). The only news outlets that called Antonia Luke’s “girlfriend” were rag-mags like the Daily Mail and Hello, both of which put an emphasis on Antonia. Digital Spy noted that Luke and Antonia “have yet to officially confirm their relationship.” So outside of some tagged reels (that weren’t reposted or acknowledged by Luke) and rag-mag speculation, what did Antonia get from this?

Dad: Publicity.

A single word but one that resonates throughout an otherwise silent wood.

But to be honest, I’m not entirely convinced this was for publicity. I’m not saying I believe Antonia is Luke’s girlfriend either – that’s a whole cauldron of contradictions on its own. I’m simply intrigued that Antonia has her Instagram tags turned off and she has not yet allowed any Boss event tags to appear on her page. So, outside of some junky rag-mag callouts and a few TikToks, what benefit did Antonia receive? And, if Antonia didn’t truly benefit from this appearance (or, at least she doesn’t appear to be reaping the rewards from a girlfriend or PR standpoint), who did benefit?

I mentioned at the beginning of this post that a series of events had happened one after the other over a relatively short two-week period: (1) Luke’s mum mentioning “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus” in a Facebook response; (2) leaked video and photos of Luke from a funeral; (3) those utterly ridiculous pap pictures of Nicola and Jake; (4) Nicola stating she and Luke were “just friends” in an interview; and (5) the sudden summoning of Antonia after exactly six months of being MIA.

As I sat here writing out the events of the past two weeks – and considering the reappearance of Antonia – I couldn’t help but speculate as to whether each of these events was meant to have a specific purpose that didn’t get its desired result.

The comment by Luke’s mother was so far out in left field, most Lukolas chucked it up to being suspicious and dismissed it as such. The funeral pictures and video released by one of Luke’s family members was quickly scrubbed from social media; therefore, just as quickly ignored. The pap pictures of Nicola and Jake were openly mocked across social media as being staged. The “just friends” comment – after almost a year of, particularly, Nicola dodging that phrase – didn’t seem to send many Lukolas overboard. Is it possible that the fandom’s mild reaction to all these events wasn’t anticipated? Which leads me to wonder if Luke and Nicola wanted a reaction and realized the only way they were going to get it was to play the only card they had left – Antonia.  

When you look at the above referenced events individually and collectively, they appear to indicate a push to shut down the Lukola narrative. Why?

They could have shut down the Lukolas before the World Tour even took off. They could have shut down the Lukolas during the World Tour. They could have shut down the Lukolas after Papsmear. Why wait almost a full year to draw the line in the sand? Especially after every devoted Lukola would argue that (mostly) Nicola has left a trail of Swiftie-like clues to insinuate Lukola is real, and that Luke has made a visible effort to remove Antonia from his narrative.

Whatever the reasoning may be, we must admit Antonia’s reappearance had a purpose – and one that we need to respect. I have a hard time believing Luke would voluntarily step in the same pile of dog shit he stepped in back in June without a valid and significant reason for doing so.

And this is where I will draw the line.

I will not speculate further about why Antonia suddenly rose from the ashes of Manderley – and I will not tell you which road to take from here. That’s something you need to do on your own but, be warned that regardless of which road you choose – the one where you conclude Luke and Antonia are a couple, or the one where you decide Antonia is playing the role of PR distraction – the Lukolas are currently fighting a losing battle.

The Lukolas have become collateral damage. They’ve either been caught in the crossfire of an online war between Luke and Nicola (and their respective sidekicks) over, presumably, Antonia; or they’re the unwitting victims of some messy PR bullshit that has resulted in Lukolas being bullied across every social media platform by rabid Jakolas and Anti-Lukes.

Amazingly, though, many Lukolas remain resilient.

When the going gets tough…

But sometimes the tough don’t get going.

Yesterday, someone wrote to me, “Why are we still here? Just when we think something good is finally going to happen we get pushed back down. I’m tired of the dumb games.”

I rarely answer “Asks,” but my response to this comment is:

“Two roads diverged in a wood…”

Two roads.

One road is quite disheartening and the other is shrouded in underbrush.

But what you've overlooked is that there is an alternate path – a third road – the one that brought you to this point.

Turn around.

That road takes you back home – and, if you’re ready to go home, go home. It’s okay. It takes an unbelievable amount of courage to admit you’ve had enough. Remember that saying – “A wise woman once said, ‘fuck this shit,’ and she lived happily ever after.”

Take your time and decide what makes the most sense to you.

Dad: What are you thinking?

Me: Of a poem.

Dad: Oh, which one today?

Me: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by…”

Dad: Which road is that…?

P.S. Just for a bit of comic relief at the end of an otherwise somber post (not even Dad could make it lighthearted), I just wanted to say:

I love eating grapes.

IYKYK.

Those links I promised:

[ahappydnp]

so sorry but ive seen two different things about this now and im very lost, why did people think they were breaking up/broke up in 2012??? pls help me understand, wise keeper of the lore. thank u so much

response under the cut for general 2012 discussion/too long

basically 2012/2013 used to get (and sometimes still is) generalized as this dark and awful time period where dnp "hated" each other and us, when in actuality it was two very young very scared closeted queer people who were in the process of several major life changes at once while also dealing with a new exploding fan base

there's a few big things from that "era" that people talk about:

deleting old posts- around this era dnp deleted a ton of old tweets/formsprings/dailybooths that could read as them being in a relationship. they were blowing up online and had more eyes on them than ever before, not to mention had just starting working with the BBC (where being queer would have greatly affected their careers). also keep in mind dan was still in the closet to EVERYONE, and now he's got tons of fans going through his accounts and sending shit to HIS LITTLE BROTHER on tumblr asking if dan's gay. anyway people decided them deleting early tweets meant they had broken up

dan's customerservice tumblr blog- in the middle of them blowing up and people finding all these old posts, dan in an effort to control the narrative, makes a new blog for people to anonymously ask him questions (: which went about as well as you can imagine for an extremely defensive closeted 20 year old with undiagnosed depression. basically he said some unfortunately things out of fear

the video leaked again- won't get too much into that because of the subject matter, but the yeah the video leaked for the second time except this time way more people saw it/shared it and dnp actually had to respond to it this time. which is. just fucking awful and heartbreaking all around.

phil persona- basically this was the birth of the amazingphil persona that'd follow phil to the quiff era. he became more sanitized and less personable than original phil fans were used to (which got romanticized into uwu he's sad because he and dan broke up and now he's shutting down)

"no homo"- pretty self explanatory...people asked if they were gay (every single day constantly on every platform) and they would say no because what else are they going to say. this one particular vyou where dan's actually trying to make people think kills me (x) god he was so young. but they'd also started doing the "omg i don't want to see you naked/ew people want us to kiss" and the infamous "you need a girlfriend" "my future wife" etc etc.

the breakup rumors mostly stemmed from and became popular/ treated as fact by younger fans who kind of saw them as these fictionalized characters (which i mean not to blame them because they were literal children and youtubers were still so new that people did treat them like tv show characters you could be friends with). it also got turned into more sinister theories like the "dan is abusing phil" ones and "phil is actually gay but dan isn't and just used phil for attention and fame in 2009"

there was also factors like them moving to london in 2012 (and people were CONVINCED they'd stop being friends in london??), people thinking them getting popular would mean they'd get girlfriends like other popular youtubers (shoutout danrific shippers), and most importantly just them sharing less about their personal lives with their audience. like of course they're not going to live tweet their day/location anymore when people are showing up at their house and trying to find their families.

basically, dnp were putting boundaries between themselves and their fans, but the fans interpreted it as putting distance between each other. in actuality the 2012/2013 era was full of some really amazing memories and content and things people loved (literally the photobooth challenge is from 2013!! sleeping phil saying i hate you is from 2012!!!)

in conclusion, imagine building a forever home with your ex lmao

[ghostgirl-22]

so i actually need pt 2 to the older patrick younger art fic right NOW.. jk but it was amazing

Y’all. Y’ALL. I heard you. And though I don’t really love writing sequels… I’ll do anything for you honestly <33

Original.

It’s a mess and way too long which is prbly to be expected by now. Idk. Sometimes you just have to get out of your head and post 😭

18+ NSFW

CW: AGE GAP 10-11 years, power dynamics, teacher/student vibes, first time vibes, AND mild daddy!kink whoopsie! How did that happen? Obviously if any of these things make you uncomfortable don’t read. I don’t take it personally. I’ll explain myself a bit. Art in my imagination here didn’t get constantly shown up by Patrick and because Patrick wasn’t there Art got the attention Patrick got for his skills so he’s a little more arrogant (still a little insecure because that’s his core) and still messy. Patrick had the Tashi injury which makes him a little less arrogant (brought down a notch but still overcompensates and actively self sabotages because that’s his core) and still messy.

——

Art is still keyed up the next morning. His roommate, Devon, is bragging about hooking up with a senior. Art is trying to pay attention but all he can think about is how he got on his knees and gave messy head to Patrick, Coach Zweig, his 31 year old ridiculously hot tennis coach. And how Patrick practically promised to fuck him if he was a really good boy all week. He’s sitting on his hands trying not to go crazy.

“What did you get up to?” Devon finally asks him. Picking up his towel and getting ready to shower.

“Can you keep a secret?” Art asks.

That makes him sit back down. “Yeah of course.”

Art tells him about Patrick, most of it anyway, watching his eyes widen. He’s not on the tennis team but he’s heard enough about Coach Zweig from Art that he can’t help giggling.

“You’re fucking joking.”

“I’m not, I swear.”

“Holy shit. And I thought I was doing something with that senior. Wow. This would only happen to you.”

Art isn’t sure what he means by that but he’s suddenly asking a million questions. Art tells him some things, embellishing and withholding various details. The closest Art ever came to actually fucking a boy was when he used to sneak in Devon’s bed whenever he got horny at night. They were so close to fucking when Art made him stop. so he made Art promise to stop leading him on. And now they’re proper roommates with boundaries and everything. Though sometimes Art thinks if he asked for it Devon would still fuck him.

Devon thinks it’s hot, the whole Patrick thing. Thinks Patrick wants to make Art his kept boy. “Well I mean… he’s old and everyone says he’s loaded, right? He can give you whatever you want.” Devon says.

“Please, he wouldn’t even give me his phone number.” Art says dismissively. “And I don’t need to be kept I just need his dick.”

Devon chews his bottom lip looking Art over and Art wonders if he crossed a boundary. He’s so fucking messy with them.

“Lucky him,” Devon says dryly, rolling his eyes. “But maybe you should milk it. You’re young and beautiful and blonde and he’s your coach so it’s like.. it’s kind of illicit. He could get you a nice place off campus… be your sugar daddy. Girls do it all the time.”

“I think he’d kill me if I ever called him that,” Art laughs, making up his mind to definitely call him that at some point.

Devon agrees to come out with him next weekend but he still has to wait the whole fucking week. It feels like torture.

They have practice everyday and a game on Friday. Which means Patrick’s in those short shorts running them around the court every single day. Art can’t keep his mind off of him. Just wants his attention so bad, everyday he’s doing everything he can just to get Patrick to look in his direction. But Patrick’s got an epic poker face. He’s so fucking cool and calm and collected. So good at acting like nothing happened. Like everything is the same and they never did what they did.

There's one difference. Instead of having the assistant coach do it… he’ll bring Art to the side and personally correct him when he thinks Art could play better. Show him how to position himself, swing the racket, follow through. Big hands, rough hands, gripping Art's waist to turn his body, his wrist to direct his swing. The same hands that effortlessly lifted off his lap the other night.

“Can’t be all talk and no action sweetheart,” Patrick says lightly, as he’s standing behind him. God. It’s actually stupid how sexy he is. Art’s never thought this much about being penetrated, ever. He makes sure to arch his back just a little more than he usually does. Patrick presses a hand to the small of his back.

Art fingers the grip of his racket. “I don’t think I was all talk.”

Patrick chuckles, low and soft. “Stop it. Focus. Bring that energy here,” he says, “all that confidence right here and no one will rattle you.”

“Like this?” Art demonstrates. He makes a mess of it just so that Patrick will touch him again. It takes a minute before Patrick catches on.

“I think you get it,” he says dryly.

“Please show me one more time. I just wanna be a good boy for you,” Art says lightly. It makes Patrick swallow… his gaze falls helplessly over Arts body and then he looks away smirking.

“Are you having fun?” He says, leaning in close, eyes all crinkly with amusement.

Art wants to kiss him. “Mmhm,” he hums, pressing his lips together. “Though sometimes it still feels like my mouth is so full of you I could just… choke.”

“Yeah… right…” Patrick rolls his eyes, still smiling and then he takes a deep breath and drags his hand over his beard. “Hm…What’s today?”

“Wednesday,” Art says.

“And my plans for the weekend are still up in the air,” he says, patting Art on the shoulder as he takes his racket and turns to face the team. “Five laps around the court, everybody, let’s gooo!” He says loudly, blowing his whistle. “Fucking hustle!”

There’s an audible groan and the sounds of rackets dropping as everyone stops what they’re doing and starts running. “Go join them. And if you keep it up it’ll be sprints next.” Patrick says softly.

Art grins, as much as he hates running and he’s sure his teammates will assume he’s responsible for this bit of conditioning, it was still totally fucking worth it.

He probably should’ve focused more but he wins on Friday in spite of himself. Tennis is such a mental game and while he’s generally confident and loves the attention that comes with playing as number one on the center stage, he’s not consistent. That’s what Patrick always says at least. There are opponents that leave him feeling less sure of himself and then he tends to get in his head imagining he’s somehow inadequate or deficient.

One of those players is a French recruit from UCLA, Jensen Bordeaux. Art starts out strong. Crushes it in the first set. But when Bordeaux fights back in the second and he falls apart a little. It’s a bad habit. He wins another game but it’s not enough. He ends up nearly going into a third set.

“Remember what I said,” Patrick takes him to the side between points. “Stop acting like you can’t finish him off. You can have whatever you want right?”

Art gazes at him and bites his lip. “Mmhm.” He nods.

“Good. You know what you want. Just take it. Okay?”

“Yeah okay,” Art says breathlessly.

“Good boy,” Patrick says, rubbing his shoulders, a little smirk on his lips. “Try not to… you know… choke.”

Art feels heated from the inside out. He goes back on the court except he’s not thinking about the game. Instead he’s so anxious for the promise of tomorrow night that all this begins to feel like a mere obstacle to that. He makes easy work of it, winning the tiebreaker and shifting it so that Stanford goes home the winning team.

Everyone on the team goes out to a frat party to celebrate and Art is so drunk and horny by the end of the night. He stumbles into his dorm at 1 am, falls drunkenly into bed and starts touching himself. Fingers in his mouth imagining it’s the heavy weight and thickness of Patrick’s cock. Imagining Patrick’s large hands in his hair, imagining the soft, easily amused tone of his voice as he murmurs. “Good boy.” Makes him come so fast and hard he passes out.

He’s a mess in the morning. In more ways than one. They don’t have practice after game days so he sleeps off his hangover and the day flies by. He takes a long hot shower before he gets ready to go. Anxiety and anticipation competing for space in his brain and body. Devon loans him clothes that are so much tighter than anything he wears regularly. “Trust me, he’s gonna be all over you in this.”

They get there at the same time as last week but Patrick doesn’t come right away. Art’s waiting and waiting and waiting for Patrick to show up at the gay bar. Devon is at a table, a new boy on his lap and they’re making out. Art is half tipsy, swinging his legs on a barstool while this guy from the baseball team stands between his thighs asking him everything about tennis like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. And that’s when Patrick finally arrives. He spots Art across the bar and smirks. Art gets up right away, making excuses to the now frowning baseball player about seeing him around on campus.

“That was fast,” Patrick smirks, as Art sidles up next to him.

“Well I didn’t know you’d take so long to come,” Art says, moving closer. “Is that an old person thing?”

”Mm, you…” Patrick chuckles, tapping his credit card on the bar. He’s got such a great smile. God. Art is so far gone. This is tragic.

“Can you buy me a drink?” Art asks in his ear.

“No fucking way,” Patrick says, amused.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, how many drinks have you had tonight?”

Art holds up 3 fingers.

“Is that how many fingers I’m gonna have to put in before I can… nevermind…” Patrick says.

Art grins. Warmth spreading throughout his body. “It’s really big,” Art whispers. “Maybe you need four?”

“God…” Patrick laughs, incredulous. “I shouldn’t even fucking be here.” He sighs, as the bartender approaches them. He orders a whiskey and because it’s two for one he gives in and lets Art pick something. He orders rum and coke.

Art feels giddy as he sips on it.

“So used to getting whatever you ask for,” Patrick says, looking him over, teasing a finger into one of his belt loops. “Twenty years old. God. You make me fucking crazy.” He whispers in Art’s ear.

Art can’t help grinning.

Patrick makes him wait while he talks to people his own age. Acting all wholesome. “Oh he’s just one of my players, I’m gonna make sure he gets home safe.” He even gives Art the key so he can wait in his jeep. Art’s hard as soon as he gets in it. Listens to music too loud and ponders touching himself.

He’s kissing on Patrick right away when he finally gets in the car. He’s been so eager all week. “Mm…” Patrick pulls back, tangling his fingers into Art’s hair. “Fuck… gimme a minute to get you home, okay?” he says and he turns on the engine and puts the music back at a sensible volume.

“Is it far?” Art asks.

Patrick huffs a laugh. “Take a deep breath.”

It doesn't help. Everything smells like him. Art puts a hand on Patrick’s thigh, his skin is so heated. He remembers how warm Patrick’s cock felt in his mouth and then his mouth starts watering.

“Is Tashi there?” Art sighs.

“What do you fucking think?”

Art leans close, just breathing him in. Resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder. ”She’s so pretty.” He hums.

“I know.”

“You’re so pretty.”

Patrick chuckles, a low vibration Art can feel from his throat that makes him shiver. “And you're so tipsy. And so fucking young.”

“But you like it.” Art says softly, rubbing Patrick’s thigh. Skin so warm he’s like a furnace. Already hard enough that Art can feel it.

”And I know I’m gonna regret it.”

Their house is actually huge. On the nicer side of Palo Alto. It’s one of the ones with a pool and a tennis court and a crazy nice view of the city. Art doesn’t know any of this until later because as soon as they're inside he’s trying to get his tongue in Patrick’s mouth. Patrick walks him back towards the living room where there’s a huge leather sofa. Art climbs onto his lap as soon as he sits down. Patrick is touching him everywhere, fingers tangled into his hair. Hands under his shirt, rubbing him, teasing him. Art is just trying his best to feel him, lick into his mouth and taste him. All while grinding against his prominent bulge. Grabbing at his zipper trying to get it out.

“Can you fuck me?” Art begs against his lips.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes against his lips, he’s gripping Art’s waist tightly. Slowing him down. He sighs like he’s trying to pull himself together. “Mmkay. God. Stand up a minute. I need to get a condom and some lube.”

Art gets up reluctantly, nervous energy making him bounce on his toes like he’s waiting on a serve. Patrick smirks, “Relax… I’ll be back in a minute.” He pats Art’s shoulder as he gets up and disappears into another room. It doesn’t matter whether Art sits or stands, he’s anxious. He looks around the lavish room, fancy furniture, paintings that look expensive. Massive kitchen like the kind you see in movies. Patrick comes back and he’s all loose, t-shirt wrinkled, hair messy, eyes soft. He’s probably done this a million times. He’s got a condom between his fingers which he hands to Art.

“You wanna put it on me?”

”Mmhm,” Art says. He’s also carrying a little bottle of lube. Art’s trying to rip the packet open but his hands are all shaky. Especially when Patrick lifts his t-shirt off, he’s so solid, strong biceps, chest hair that gets darker condensed down the line of his stomach to where his jeans are unbuttoned. Art wants to lick it.

“Okay,” Patrick settles on the sofa, kicking off his shoes. “Give me that, you pretty little virgin and take those clothes off.”

Art hands him the condom a little embarrassed, and starts undoing his jeans. Kicks off his shoes and peels off his shirt so he’s only in boxers. Patrick bites open the packet and eases his jeans down and his cock out. Art takes shallow breaths watching him roll the condom on. It’s so big the condom is a magnum size and it fits snug. He’s heard horror stories about first times, even read a few on Reddit and he’s starting to feel a little panicked.

”Look at you.” Patrick says softly, eyes dragging slowly down Arts body. He pulls Art onto his thighs, god he has thick muscular thighs, Art can’t help wiggling. Patrick’s got him close so their cocks line up, and his palm is covered in lube and he’s gripping them both at the same time. It feels so fucking good Art thinks he might come too fast. He’s moaning, eyes squeezed shut when Patrick stops. Art opens his eyes to see Patrick wetting his fingers with more lube and slips a thick calloused finger back along Art’s entrance. Art feels himself seizing up as Patrick presses slowly inside.

“Take deep breaths,” Patrick whispers. Advice Art tries to follow but it just feels so crazy. He eases another finger in and Art tenses even more.

“Mm if your so fucking tight, I can’t fuck you sweetheart.”

“Does it hurt?” Art whispers.

Patrick takes a breath. “Yeah a little at first… but I think I can make it feel a little…uh better…”

Art shivers, his body suddenly overrun by pleasure as Patrick’s teasing his fingertips deep inside him. Art can hear himself moaning voice suddenly pitched so high he barely recognizes it. “Please… please… “he begs. “Please fuck me… fuck me… fuck me daddy.” Art gasps, losing himself as he’s riding the sensation.

“Fuck… what did you call me?” Patrick whispers.

Art bites his lip, his body heating up immediately with embarrassment. “Mm sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I meant like sugar…” He says softly as Patrick slowly pulls his fingertips out. Art is breathless. Patrick doesn’t look mad but his expression has gone heady.

“Fuck… I can be daddy if you need it,” Patrick breathes. “Come…sit on daddy’s dick. Holy shit. What are you doing to me?”

Art swallows, his stomach doing flip flops for the way Patrick says it. He sits up on his knees, he can feel Patrick lining up. It actually feels like a lot. Like way too much. Impossible to take. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut and watering feeling the insane stretch as he sinks so fucking slowly down on it.

“Oh god,” he keeps whispering over and over like a prayer.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. His hands gripping Art’s waist.

He’s anxious moving slowly, gripping tightly, it’s too much, he’s too full. And Patrick starts to adjust him while gently rubbing his tummy. “Relax… lets try this angle,” Patrick whispers. Fucking into him in a way that he starts hitting that pleasure spot deep inside with even more intensity. “Good… good boy…that’s right…breathe… breathe… keep breathing… fuck…” Patrick coaches. And then slowly as it happens Art is moaning, bouncing on his lap just to feel it hit over and over and over and over again.

“I wanna… mmm I like it so much. wanna do it all the time,” Art moans nonsensically as he’s riding, not sure what’s happening, just that he’s seeing stars. “I wanna fuck you all the time. All the fucking time. wanna fuck you at school… during practice. In your bed. Wanna be your boy toy. Play with your big dick. Fuck me, oh fuck… fuck me daddy, daddy please. It feels so fucking good.”

“Jesus,” Patrick groans he barely grips Art’s cock and he’s coming loudly, spurts of it covering Patrick’s chest and his own. He can feel Patrick still pressing up into him, it suddenly feels like way too much. Every movement making him shake with how sensitive it feels and then Patrick stills, swearing over and over, gripping Art’s body tight and burying himself deep. Low gravelly sounds against Art’s ear.

”Fuck,” Patrick gasps, breathlessly. “Oh… god. You’re so… fuck I’m so screwed.”

“Mm,” Art collapses against his chest, running his fingers down Patricks soft chest hair all painted with his jizz. His knees are all sweaty and sticking to the leather but he doesn’t really care. He just wants to be close. Patrick is gently rubbing his lower back and it feels amazing. Art can feel him softening and slowly slipping out of him, he thinks he might fall asleep like this.

“You okay?” Patrick asks.

”Mmhm,” Art says.

“You sure?”

”Yeah. Can we do it again?”

“God,” Patrick laughs. “I need at least five minutes and I need you to get up cause I gotta piss.”

“No,” Art whines, unhappy about anything that means he won’t be warmed by Patrick's body heat even for a second. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders.

Patrick chuckles. “I can’t go anywhere?”

“No,” Art says. “You’re my pillow.”

“Guess I fucked your virgin ass good,” Patrick says.

“For an old guy,” Art says softly, smiling against Patrick’s throat.

“For your daddy, you little freak…” Patrick says gently, squeezing his ass. “Come on, get up or we’re gonna have a bigger mess to clean up.”

Art groans and unwraps his arms. “Can I come?”

“To piss?” Patrick raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Art nods.

Patrick smirks and rolls his eyes before gently curling his fingers into Arts hair. “Yeah sure, come on.”

Art kisses him and he sighs into Arts mouth. “I need a fucking cigarette too.”

“Can I stay over?” Art asks against his lips.

“Mm…” he ponders and sighs. “Fuck it I don’t know why I bother pretending to set boundaries with you…” he says, helping Art to his shaky feet. “Tashi will be home tomorrow afternoon. So you know… better not sleep too late.”

Art grins at him. “Does she know about me?”

“Does she know that after I finally got a good job as a tennis coach at my old school that I’m this close to losing it because I can’t help fucking my barely legal 20 year old star player? No actually. She doesn’t know.” He says dryly.

Art laughs. “I wouldn’t tell. But I mean imagine if I slept with you both. I’d learn so much about tennis.“

Patrick snorts, “This kinda talk is gonna make me take you home tonight actually…”

“Mm too late. You let me call you daddy,” Art grins. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

[bvidzsoo]

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[mysticdreamdrafts]

Solas x Lavellan | Fluffy (PRE-TRAUMA) Headcanons

I heard there were some Egg-Head lovin bitches ‘round her.

It is me. I’m bitches.

Here’s some random Solas headcanons because I want to. Chances are some will disagree but I don’t care. 

These are set around the DA:I era, not DA:V. I’ll get to that later.

As a disclaimer tho: Yes, I have a Lavellan Inquisitor named Winter, but this headcanon list ain’t about her. Just a general romance Reader Insert because I care about your feelings more than mine lol I might be brave and post stuff about Winter later who knows

✨ Enjoy, my fellow Hard Boiled Egg lovers ✨

-He’s the type to always be looking at you. Eye’s latched on to wherever you are -Now when I say this I don’t mean in a creepy way, relax -I mean this in a fascination way. In an adoration way. In a “that’s the center of my universe" way -Because you are.  -Vivienne said the same thing, ya know? The way the both of you have eyes that linger over one another? -Quite frankly everyone saw the change in his demeanor as time went on, but no one saw the change more than you -No one saw the sweet fingertips that caressed against your jaw in the dead of night hiding away in the rotunda -No one saw the times on missions, wandering the Frostback Basin with pinkies linked in such a subtle but intimate way -He is obsessed with your hair -NO, not because he doesn’t have any lmfao -Because it’s soft and smells heavenly  -Because it reminds him of peace as he absentmindedly braids it, caresses it, runs his slim fingers through the strands  -He’s actually very good. Which can’t be a surprise I mean be fuckin fr right now -Sometimes when he styles it you leave it as it is, and you best believe you get a bunch of compliments  -Most of which are from Dorian  -Solas loves to surprise you -Stolen kisses out of no where when you’re in the middle of instruction -Can’t he SEE YOU ARE TRYING TO FOCUS? -He finds himself with that devious smirk on his lips when he thinks about all the ways to fluster you  -No one will notice he seems to have plans, of course. Perhaps Bull.  -He sticks a single flower behind your ear each time you are on the field  -Don’t worry, he brought a flower in preparation when knowing you were going to the damn Western Approach -None of them amount to how beautiful you are -He plays the mandolin for you in the nights you can’t sleep -When the demons are too much and the terror jolts you awake, he is already there -More often than not, he stays so he can be sure you’re rested -He takes this time to see your mark. Always tracing it, always healing so that it brings you less discomfort  -Plays in the snow with you when in Haven -If you ask to keep the lil Nug that followed you around Emerald Graves, he’ll be happy to support -Even if he hesitates because he knows it will take his place a bit . Taking some of your attention and being the thing you cuddle with at night -The cute grin you gave is too much to ignore though - his heart is soft with you -His heart belongs to you

[thatbitchery]

HOW TO SCHOOL ; A COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE BY A CHAIN SCHOOLER.

Given I've been in school for 21years continuously now I'll say at this point I'm a professional in the art of schooling x studying, at least the ADHD ver. Random tips;

Go to your strengths and align with them. If you're a thinker go to the thinkings the math the Eng Lit or Lit the Calculus the classes that require for your to think. If you're a knower go to the knowings the history the Geography the Religion the Biology etc. If you're a doer go to the doings the Math the Physics the IT the Business. Go where your strengths are why suffer.

Your reputation does, in fact, proceed you. Teachers are just people and like people they are biased. School is for networking 190000× more than it is for education. And teachers are people too that can and should be networked with. If you need me to teach you how to build a reputation in school I will.

All rounders make it farthest. My formula is - one sport that does what I need it to (volleyball for cardio) and do everything in my power to be captain (I've always been). Two, a club that ticks my boxes. This has always been journalism club for me I knewww I wanted to be in journalism and communication early. Being part of the school paper (was chair in high school and editor in Uni). Leadership of student body (House captain for me. In high school. Wanted Library captain so bad but heh. Could be just being in the student council. My tip, high rank low responsibility) and take part in the most mediocre activity around (for me was Christian Council. All we did was nothing). It's the basis of- Who are you? And in life who you are is more important than what you know. Or better - what do people know you as? Keeping in mind it follows you. How people see an ex beauty queen isn't the same way they see an Ex head of student council. Also the busier you are the less time you have for all that. Alll of that. That drama thing you keep getting caught up in. + Your networks are wider so you skip the loneliness tax ie the number of things you do because you're lonely. The scrolling. The getting clingy and attached to random people that give you attention for 6 seconds. The dating people you don't even like. The over eating and over spending and- loneliness tax. We know it. Some of y'all on Tumblr rn paying it.

Always. Always. Alwaysss look your best in the most natural way possible. The world does not take kindly to unkempt women and it also doesn't want to know you pour energy into being kempt. What does this have to do with school? If you're below 25 likely you've spent 3/4 of your life in school. That's a lot of time for people to be taking jabs at your appearance or bullying you or talking hell behind your back or not coming into your space because there's no value attached to it (bc girl to girl, before you hit 25 your only value is your beauty. Again why I don't want you to date). Just make your hair and skin and nails and steam your clothes and don't look homeless it's that easy. And don't wear the eyelash extensions that look fake or the fillers or the red lips or- as natural as possible. It's school. Unless you want slaaat treatment .

Use your syllabus. I can not explain enough how much this is the way to study. Every start of semester your professor is required to release the syllabus. It has topics, subs and objectives. You see the objectives? Use those as study guides. By the end of that topic you should be able to answer the objectives if framed as questions.

Pre- during- post. You study the material pre class, on the day you'll have the class. Just go through it try answer questions. During class you listen and make side notes. After class you make the notes in writing and then go to the questions. If there are YouTube or Video or Audio explanations listen to them after making the notes and make sure you know what they're on about. DO NOT SLEEP if you know for a fact you can not recall it all. Scary hour night ver- get a pen and blank paper, offhead use objectives to write all you remember, go through the notes one more time. Thank me later.

Brown Noise White Noise- this is bs. Do what works for you there's no study noise that's standardized. I need to listen to cars and people talking noises to study some people need to listen to white noise I know someone that listens to Kpop some need no background noise so no one cares. The one rule is- IT CAN NOT BE IN A LANGUAGE YOU UNDERSTAND. The background noise CAN NOT BE IN A LANGUAGE YOU UNDERSTAND.

Niche. The niches are where it's at. Don't know what language to learn? Norwegian. How many people you know have self taught Norwegian. Exactly. If I said I speak french and someone says they speak Norwegian, automatically who sounds more disciplined and interesting? See the class that has 5 kids? Take that one for extra creds. Swimming? Deep sea diving. Stand out. Stand out.

Information retention happens in activity. Study sitting recall walking around or running or cleaning etc. The science is when you're active you need to be 10× more alert because your body id constantly scamming for threats and when you're sitting you signal to your body you're safe sooo why would it be that alert? Do your active recall on your morning jog. not yoga not activities meant for relaxing. (PS biohacking is a whole superpower and I'd teach you but I don't agree with the popular methods {when have I ever} and given my autism they probably only work for me so find your ver. Andrew Huberman is so extensive on this)

Have a signature. Sit same spot daily , have a same scent, have things that make you memorable and are associated with you. Why does it matter in school - for the exact same reason it matters everywhere, coupled by under 25 that's where you spend 3/4 of your life?

Mind the business that pays you. Stay in your lane, do your thing. Never commit to one group of friends and talk to everyone. Don't play social justice warrior matter of fact if you have to play a role move all the way over to Blair Waldorf Alison De Laurentis kind of bitchy but without being queen bee that's. Lmao. What is that. Do your thing and go home. Hang out with as many people as you can. Don't commit don't pick a side mind the business that pays you.

I'm begging you to be financially smart. Unfortunately there's no standard for this so we can work it out one on one I have all the time in the world pre August we can do it.

Boys. Stay. As. Far. Away. From. Those. I don't want you to date girls either I don't want you to date at all idc where you swing but generally I want you to know what ever a man does the women closest to him will pay for it. Even just *friends* yes be acquaintances yes hang out but NEVER let a man be a part of your identity all his problems will be yours but ×10 by associations. You see how Rihanna said 'your wife in the backseat of my car' when it's the man that messed up? that's life. THATS LIFE. Whatever a man does, the women around him will pay for it 1000×, and it's almost impossible to shake out a man's social imprint on you. Even just by vicinity. In the least literal sense of the phrase, fuck all these men.

[pinkyqily]

esmee fic 👀 black reader who plays for barcelona and fans find out that reader does esmee's gameday braids. they start to suspect that reader and esmee are together!!!

MY ONLY ONE Esmee brugts x Black reader

Summary : fans put pieces together and find out not only are you dating esmee but you're the one who does her game day braids 💗

Contains: Esmee x black!reader, Fluff, Pina braids slander because tf not

A/n: Thank you so much for requesting this 🫶🏿 I enjoyed every bit of writing for this fic, and I hope you enjoy reading this if you have any other esmee requests or for any other player send them my way feedback are always appreciated and happy reading.

You and esmee have recently been dropping little hints about your relationship on social media. It all started when es posted a little story about your date that included a scenery pic.

You on the other hand, took it up a notch with postings you and esmee holding hands nothing to crazy, just enough to have people sitted for a soft lunch.

The second time you guys posted again was at the men's home game where your other teammates had accompany you.

Es had given you her hoodie because you felt a little cold and you made a story post about her jester. Which was where fans started connecting the dots because esmee had posted a photo dump.

In one of the pictures, you guys had taken a group photo, esmee still had her jacket in it. And your story of having es jacket on was stil up.

Everyone was either theorizing about the both of you or trying to convince themselves esmee was just helping out her forgetful teammates.

But something that blew it all up was a video that vicky took of you braiding esme hair a few days before a game. Confirming all the rumors about you too with the very accidental video.

"How come you only braid esmee hair before we have games". You heard a voice say making you look lose concentration on what you we're doing."Because one she's my girlfriend and two you never asked me to braid your hair, I mean you and pina share the same braider so your point?". You told the curly haired girl as you continued braiding not noticing she was recording.

"Aye! You can't blame me for sharing braiding info Claudia wouldn't leave me alone until I told her". You heard her say as esmee was laughing at her.

"Not our fault you have a weak backbone". Your girlfriend said moving the posting of her head onto your lap.

"Es stay stil for me I'm almost done". You told her, leaving a kiss on her cheek, unaware that vicky was stil filming.

"You're both so disgustingly inlove makes me want to puke". Vicky's voice echoes through the room making an exit to leave.

"You'll understand love one day, Vick." You yelled out to the younger girl as she left.

Vicky wasn't even paying attention when she posted the video as she had already left her phone in the locker room, not paying attention to what she had posted.

It wasn't until a break was called that pina came up to your group that consisted of you, esmee, vicky,salma and cata.

"Why would you guys say that about me and vicky you galdy gave me the braider info I did not pressure you to giving me". Pina said frankly looking annoyed.

"What did vicky post?". You had asked the younger girl looking quite confused. That when it hit vicky she had accidentally posted it public instead of close friends.

"I can explain it was meant for close friends I didn't know it got posted for the whole world, you can blame ona for rushing me you know". She said trying to defend herself.

"I don't care about it being posted you just ruined my soft lunch ugh". You told the group of friends.

"There's no point in hiding it again, baby we can just hard lunch I do have some photos of us that I've always wanted to post." You heard your girlfriend say.

"You guys problem is fixed but what about vicky badmouthing me to the internet". Pina said now irritated at the fact that people are going to think she harassed the younger girl for braiding info.

"You can start by stop getting them done, because people are calling you Lauren james knock off of the uwcl." You told pina making the group of girls around you laugh as you and esmee walked away from them.

“You’ll still braid my hair for me right”. You heard Vicky asking. "Si Si, you better get back to practice before your guardian Alexia comes and drag you away.

Yourusername&esmeebrugts

Cats out the bag thank you so much @vickylopez for ruining my soft lunch liked by ona.batlle, salma paralluelo and 12,034 people

Comments limited

@Vickylopez you're welcome me next for when you do esmee hair again

@ona.batlle freaking finally

@wosofan19w9 I knew it from the starts did anyone else see Vicky's story of them making fun of pina

@Claudiapina you don't need to rub it in our faces《Youreplied @patriguijarro doesn't keep you satisfied què? 《Claudiapina she's my bestfriend why would we be kissing?

@mapileòn @esmeebrugts when's the wedding?《@esmeebrugts replied when you tell us when yours and Ingrid is 😄

@sophiasmith happy for you bubs 💕 《Youreplied 🫶🏿

@yournumber1fan the chaos in this comment section

@cata.coll @kika you owe me 50€

[lara4eclipze]

» I Miss Us

sypnosis: lara was never one to be in situationships nor talking stages, she claimed it was stupid and would only end up with ones heart broken or yearning — yet here she was missing you her only situationship

warning: angst, situationship, hurt no comfort, swearing, ghosting, italics for flashbacks, etc

talks: I'm so sorry for those requests i haven't written yet BUT trust i am gonna write some and release them maybe today and tomorrow!, thank you for your patience ^^

taglist: @ohmyhaely @nyssalvr @vrtualstar @c-yerim @jellaaa @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

lara stared at her phone, at your conversation to be specific — it's been two months since you two have even chatted, in lara's opinion is the longest two months of her life

lara used to get excited just staying up and chatting with you — sneaking out of the dorms just to have drinks or eat out with you, it didn't matter that she could've been caught by her management — what mattered to her was you

the door to the kats shared house creeks louder than lara would've wanted — her eyes adjust to the dark environment only to make out a figure standing near the kitchen, their leader sophia

"where have you been?!, you know i have been worried sick? i called everyone including your mom!" sophia screams at lara, maybe for the first time in a while — atleast lara wants to pretend like so

in reality lara has been on sophias nerves ever since she started to talking to you — she always left without telling anyone she would be lazy in practices just so that she can chat with you

"go to your room — and whoever it is you are meeting up with, stop it lara you're getting too distracted" sophia mutters trying to keep her calm demeanor "stop telling me what to do" lara snaps back

"do it or ill tell the management team" sophia threatened, it all just stopped from that moment on — lara had to choose between her needs and wants, she walked silently to her shared room fidgeting with her phone

she debated whether to chat you or listen to sophia yet as much as she hated what she was gonna do she did it

she ghosted you.

the first week was confusing to say the least — lara who always chatted with you through every platform was now getting cold?, her usual energetic response to your chats were now replaced with "yeah" or "okay"

the second week was weird, lara had took almost 2 - 3 days just to respond to you, you double texted you had even called her a few times yet it always ended with her giving you a honestly lame excuse

the third to fourth week hurted the most, lara had fully ghosted you, she didn't respond at all, you knew she was active on her socials i mean she posted every week — she always saw your texts she just chose not to open them, you got desperate for even a drop of her attention, it got so bad to the point you tried contacting her other mutual friends

by the second month you had started to accept what had happened — you didn't wait for a notification from her user anymore, you didnt expect a miracle to happen

lara breaths heavily as she back reads on your chats — it took all of her courage not to call you during all of this, she tried and tried making herself believe that you were just a waste of time that you were just a distraction

yet every little thing makes her remember you, late night trips?, your favorite food, even your scent — it all comes back to you

maybe you were meant for eachother just not in this time not in this moment — she sighs massaging her temples, her lips pressed into a thin line as longing creeps into her

she types then deletes again, types and then deletes — maybe it was too long?, too casual? — lara over analyzed her text to you, until she just typed something simple

a notification pops up on your phone, it was 2 am who would be awake in such hour?

my laru♡: hi, how are you?

your heart sinks, everything you've worked so hard for has come down to this moment, moving on, crying even denial that she ghosted you

y/n: I'm good.

lara's mood shifts, you really are gone — the period on the end of the sentence and the proper grammar, screamed over her

my laru♡: I'm sorry, i miss us

you wanted to respond saying you do too, you missed hours and hours of taking with her — laughing at the stupidest things ever, god even that stupid nickname she had in your chats

y/n: me too.

yet as reality dawns on lara, its all a sick cycle — she could never date you, because of her career, she just wanted to pretend that it didnt matter just for a few more minutes

[guess-my-next-obsession]

endure & survive | iv. the storm

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x single mother!reader

chapter content: MINORS DNI, written in dual POV/first person POV, no description/name given to reader, reader is a single mother, age gap (twenty-ish years), descriptions of blood/stitches, grief, talks of dead bodies, panic attack, unproofread bc i’m lazy

word count: 2.8k

series masterlist | previous chapter

JOEL

“Everybody good?” It’s a question meant for one person in particular—the woman that just got the air kicked out of her—but with what the kids just saw, there’s no harm in asking them, too.

“Good,” Ellie says, although her voice is quiet. Even if I didn’t know her, I’d be able to tell that she’s lost in her head. After what she did, I’d be lost, too.

“I need…” My attention lands on our host—Red, I think I’ll call her, to match the fire in her eyes. She’s resting one arm against the kitchen counter, the other cradling her ribs. “I don’t know.”

I’m walking over to her before I even realize I’m doing it, my hands reaching out to steady her as she sways a bit and goes clammy. “Y’need to lay down.”

“Need to wash…the blood…” I look down, scanning her body to find a clean slice up her arm dripping blood onto the wooden planks beneath us.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath. Guiding her over to one of the chairs at the dining table, I have to glower at her to get her to sit. “Y’got a med kit?”

She nods, weakly pointing to the cabinet above the sink.

“Ellie, can you boil some water?” I glance at her as I reach to grab the med kit, finding her still in that state of shock.

She needs to get up, to find ways to busy her mind and hands so that she’s not replaying the events from earlier. I know it better than anybody.

“Ellie,” I call again, this time breaking through to her. “Need some help, kid.”

“Right,” she says, her voice still softer than I’d like. “Water, you said?”

“Yeah,” I manage, keeping one eye on her and one on the woman in front of me half-ready to faint. “Quickly as you can manage.”

“Got it.”

Focusing back on Red, I pull up a chair in front of her. “Gonna need to stitch you up.”

“I can…take care of…myself.”

“You can’t even talk,” I grunt, shaking my head at her as I lay out the contents of the kit in front of us. Needles, thread, an antiseptic that I hope still works.

“You even know…what you’re doing?” Even bleeding out and winded, she’s still coming at me.

I have no fuckin’ clue as to why I like it so much.

“Ain’t my first time stitchin’ up an awnry woman, if that’s what you mean.” I don’t want to think about the last woman I tended to like this. If I do, I’ll just get angry all over again. Angry and hurt. “Might leave a scar, though.”

“Mama,” Colt comes up to her, sticking to her side like glue. “What’s gonna happen to you?”

She softens, forcing a smile onto her clammy face. “Well, Joel here…is gonna…stitch me up. Y’know…how I like to…sew?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well…Joel’s just gonna…sew my cut up,” she says, raising her free hand up to his face. “It sounds scarier…than it is.”

“Okay,” he says, blowing out a breath of air. “I’ll hold your hand, just in case it hurts.”

I might be a cold-hearted bastard, but damn it if the sight of Colt and Red together doesn’t warm my soul just a little bit.

“Water’s boiling,” Ellie announces, joining us at the table.

“Alright, soon as it reaches a boil, I need you t’take it off the heat and let it cool a little bit before bringing me a bowl full,” I instruct. “As for you, Red, I’m gonna need you t’sit right here and not bleed out in the meantime.”

“Got nothing better to do,” she says, one corner of her mouth twitching just the slightest bit.

Ignoring the strange feeling stirring in my chest—one I’m sure is a result of the adrenaline high I’m coming off of—I head over to the bathroom and rinse the blood off my hands with the leftover water sitting in a bucket inside the empty bathtub. It’s not the most sanitary of set-ups, but it’s better than nothing.

“Hey,” Ellie pokes her head in the bathroom, locking eyes with me in the vanity mirror. “What, uh, what are we doing about the dead dudes?”

“Don’t know,” I say as I scrub my hands with soap. “Don’t deserve a burial, in my humble opinion.”

“I just mean…like…are we good here?”

I contemplate her question for a few seconds. Truthfully, I’ve got no fuckin’ idea if it’s safe to be here. Those fucks outside could be apart of a larger group and just got dealt the shit end of the recon stick for all I know. So, I settle on the truth. “I don’t know, Ellie. Regardless, no one’s gonna be comin’ out this way in the storm. Once it passes, we’ll be on our way like we planned to.”

“And them?” she asks, her brows lacing together. “We’re just going to leave them behind?”

Rinsing my hands off and grabbing a cloth to wipe them dry, I turn to face her with an exasperated look. It’s been a hell of a fucking afternoon. My body is drained. My mind is all over the place. I’m not in the position to stretch myself any thinner than I already have.

“Ellie, this is their home,” I whisper, gesturing towards where Colt and Red sit just on the other side of the wall. “She can decide what she wants to do. All I’m worried about is us.”

“There’s not an ounce of sympathy left in that cold heart of yours?” She’s getting pissed now, just another part of her dealing with what she did out there in the woods.

“Sympathy won’t keep us alive,” I say, moving past her.

READER

Joel’s hands are warm. Rough, yes, but so fucking warm. And surprisingly gentle.

He’s got one hand resting beneath my forearm as it lays on the table, squeezing both sides of my wound together as he stitches it closed. He just finished washing it clean, his fingers gentle as he dragged the damp cloth along the slice until it was no longer caked in dark blood. He’s by no means a surgeon, but damn it if he’s not completely focused and careful with me.

It’s painfully attractive. Even if the guy still pisses me off with all of his grunts and scowling.

Then again, I always did find competency sexy. It was the main reason Kit ever made it out of the friend zone back in QZ.

A man who can take care of shit is an entirely different level of desirable.

“You have done this before, haven’t you?” I don’t know why I’m making conversation, other than the fact that for the first time in the last hour, I can speak without feeling like I’m going to pass out.

Between the chest kick that knocked the wind out of me and the slice across my arm, I’m surprised I made it this long without fainting.

“Yep,” he says, sighing a little bit.

“Surprising,” is all I reply. He glances up from his work and pins me with dark eyes, but I’m quick to look away. Instead, I turn to look at Ellie and Colt in the middle of the living room, sitting side by side on the floor as they color in companionable silence. They’re both handling this better than I would, especially Ellie.

“Why?” Joel’s soft, deep voice brings my eyes back to him, but thankfully, he’s not looking at me this time.

“Just don’t seem like the caretaking type is all.”

“Right,” he murmurs. “Because travelin’ around the country with a teenager doesn’t involve any caretakin’.”

“Ellie seems pretty self-sufficient, that’s all I mean.”

“Still a kid,” he says, stabbing the needle through my flesh quickly enough that I barely register the pain. “Still someone to take care of.”

“She yours?” I’ve been meaning to ask ever since they arrived, but between our little arguments and then staying out in the shed, there hasn’t been much of an opportunity to pry.

“No,” he replies, pursing his lips.

“How long have you been watching over her, then?”

“Since summer,” he says. “Promised someone I’d take her across the country. It’s taken us this long to get here.”

I nod, not wanting to ask for anything more than he’s given me. Lord knows I certainly haven’t been all that giving in terms of my history.

“What about you?” he asks, sticking me with the needle again. “I’m assumin’ he’s yours.”

“Yeah,” I smile softly, my eyes wandering to Colt. “He’s mine.”

“And the father?”

I suck in a deep breath and let my eyes fall to my lap. “He died before Colt was born.”

Joel’s eyes flicker up to meet mine. “You gave birth by yourself?”

I nod, chuckling a bit at the memory. “And I’ll never do it again.”

Joel’s lips threaten to curl upwards. “Can’t say I blame you.”

It’s odd making conversation that doesn’t end with me calling him a dick or him judging my parental skills, but what’s even more strange is that I’m starting to think he’s not a dick at all.

Or maybe he is, but only when he wants to be. Maybe he’s a dick because it’s the safer option out here. I sure as hell haven’t been the most friendly person in the world.

“So…about what happened out there,” I say, my free hand tracing the hole in my jeans at my knee in order to distract myself from what I know is inevitable. “We’re not safe out here, are we?”

Joel’s jaw clenches a bit as he works the final swipe of his needle through me. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, hoping Colt’s keen ears don’t pick up on it.

“You’re safe out here at least until the storm passes through,” Joel says as consolation, his fingers working quickly to tie the thread into a knot before he’s wrapping my arm up in a bandage.

“It could be over with by tomorrow,” I say, lifting my eyes to meet his. “I don’t…I don’t know if I can make it out there on my own, not with Colt. I’m not like you, and he’s not like Ellie. We’re…too soft.”

Joel’s eyes grow stern, his hand still holding my arm even though he’s finished with sewing me up. “Trust me, Red, you’re anything but soft.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “You don’t know me. I might pretend to be brave, but…deep down, I’m just scared.”

“Y’don’t think I’m scared every goddamn day out there?” His voice is low, hushed to the point that I have to lean in to hear him. “It’s alright to be scared shitless. What’s not alright is to give up. You stay out here, y’all are just sittin’ ducks waitin’ for someone to come by and take everything from you. Now, I don’t know you well enough to trust you, but I trust that you’ll do anything to save that boy of yours. You’ll find a way to be brave.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and give him a nod. It’s all I can do not to cry.

I wish Kit were here.

I wish I didn’t have to go through this alone and make these decisions.

Most of all, I wish Colt never had to live in this dangerous, uncertain world.

“Listen, I gotta talk this through with Ellie, but…” He rubs the scruff on his chin, appearing at war with himself for what he’s about to say. “Maybe y’all can tag along with us, least until you find someplace to settle.”

I give him a wary, almost skeptical look. “We don’t trust each other.”

“No, we don’t,” he agrees, shrugging one shoulder as he lets his hands finally slip away from my arm. “But we’ve both had plenty of chances to kill each other and haven’t yet. I figure as long as we continue like that, we’ll be alright.”

“I’ll keep my end of the bargain if you do, too,” I say, holding my free hand out for him to shake on. Joel eyes it for a moment before grasping it in his warm grasp.

Still so rough.

Still so gentle.

JOEL

“Jesus, is it like this every winter out here?” Ellie asks, sitting beside me at the table while we eat the dinner Red whipped up for us.

I’d offered to help—actually, I’d offered to do it myself—but ever the stubborn asshole, she refused to let me do so much as boil water. Tess always told me I was the most stubborn person on the planet, but I think she’d change her mind if she ever met Red.

”It ebbs and flows,” Red says, wiping her mouth with a cloth. “Some winters it’s calm, barely snows more than a few inches. Some winters—like this one—are brutal.”

My eyes flicker to the boy sitting beside her, his chair scooted up so close to hers he might as well have been sitting in her lap. He’s clutching his spoon hard enough to bend it, and his eyes—eyes that don’t match his mother’s—look wild. Red catches me staring, watching her son like he’s a wolf bronco that might buck at me any minute.

“Colt and I always get a little jittery when a storm like this rolls through,” she says, reaching her hand over to rub her son's shoulder. “But it’s nothing we haven’t faced before, right?”

“Mmhm,” he manages, clearly trying to put on a brave face for his mom.

I hate how much it reminds me of Sarah.

I hate being forced to revisit old wounds I haven’t touched in decades.

Most of all, I hate hating the memory of my daughter. She deserves to be remembered without all these extra emotions that come along with it.

Regret.

Anger.

Shame.

Letting my spoon drop into my bowl with a clank, I push my chair back and stand up abruptly, drawing all eyes. “‘Scuse me. I need…uh, need some air.”

I turn to walk towards the door to the cabin, hearing Red call out behind me. “Wait—out there?”

I don’t stop. I can’t.

My ears are ringing, my hands are numb, and all I can think to do is get up and go. I need to be alone. I need to not break down in front of Ellie. In front of Red and her boy.

The icy wind hits me as soon as I step out of the cabin, flecks of snow whirring in front of me and cutting into the warmth of my skin, but it’s a welcome sensation. I’d rather feel something than nothing, and if putting my body into shock is what I need to snap out of it, I’ll gladly sit out here in this blizzard for hours.

“Joel, come back inside!” I expect the person to come chasing after me to be the awnry fourteen-year-old in my care, but it’s not. With a voice full of irritation, and even a little concern, Red is calling my name and shouting orders like she has any right to.

“I’m—“ The words aren’t coming out smoothly, not with the way I can’t seem to catch my breath. “Fine.”

“You’re walking into a blizzard!” she shouts.

“Just…go on back,” I manage, though it’s hard to register if I’m actually getting the words out or just thinking them. All I know is the haggard in and out of my breathing, the pounding in my chest, the empty feeling in my stomach.

Until she rests her hand on my shoulder.

Until I know her touch.

Her warmth.

The gentle squeeze of her hand as she brings me back to myself.

“Come back inside,” she says, her voice softer than it’s ever been towards me. When my eyes settle, the haze turning to clarity, I find her expression just as soft. Just as gentle. “You can freak out in the bathroom if you want. It’s too fucking cold out here and Ellie said if I didn’t get you to come back inside, she’d come out here next.”

I let out a chuckle, or what’s meant to be a chuckle, and nod my head slowly. “Alright, Red.”

And just like that, I’ve gone and done the most dangerous thing a person can do out here.

I’ve made a friend.

[distant-velleity]

new kai oc?!??!?!

MOLI FENG (锋茉莉)

[SSR] Council Uniform

“Weapons and armor don’t make the warrior���discipline and strength do!”

The student council president of Flower Blade Academy. Stoic and disciplined with a stern resting face, she may come off as imposing. However, she aims for improvement, not impossibility, and tries to be reasonable.

she was supposed to be the main helping figure in my event, at the fan school it was hosted at, and she's ruixing's cousin lol--- idk i just think shes neat </3 if u guys want i could post more abt her and her fan school and all that

(voicelines and groovy below)

Birthday: July 7th (Cancer)

Age: 18

Height: 176 cm

Dominant hand: Ambidextrous

Homeland: City of Orchids

Grade: Junior

Club: Xiangqi Club

Best Subject: History of Magic

Hobbies: Tai chi

Pet peeves: Close-mindedness

Favorite food: Pork buns

Least favorite food: Bitter melon

Talent: Swordsmanship

~

Summon: Feng Moli of Flower Blade Academy. I look forward to my stay here. …Rest assured, I’ll try not to be too much of an intrusion.

Set to Home Screen: Thank you for your hospitality.

Home Transition 1: I heard that Ruixing is in Diasomnia. If the rules allow it, I’ll pay my cousin a visit and see if his dormitory lives up to its reputation.

Home Transition 2: The statues of the Great Seven line the main street, dignified and honorable… In the future, I’ll make sure to hold my head high just as they do. 

Home Transition 3: Hm… This campus could use more varied physical education facilities. The mind and imagination work in tandem with the body. 

Home, after login: I’m here representing Flower Blade Academy at one of the largest arcane academies. There is no room for carelessness; I must be extra conscientious. 

Tap Home 1: All student council members are awarded ceremonial swords at Flower Blade Academy; unlike Night Raven College, it used to be a military institute. …Of course, my sword is the real deal.

Tap Home 2: So you have stables on your campus as well… I do recall Silver mentioning something to that effect. 

Tap Home 3: I don’t agree with Coach Vargas’ methods entirely—everyone learns differently and at different paces. However, I do appreciate the kind of instructor who believes in the potential of their students.  

Tap Home 4: I ran into some other students on my morning jog. I was pleasantly surprised—it seems a spirit of self-improvement exists at Night Raven College, too.

Tap Home 5: …Enough. You have my attention. How can I help you?

~

“I’ll never grow complacent—I swear on my honor!”

Home Transition (Groovification): Night Raven College students… are a rowdy sort, aren’t they? Aggressive, competitive, stubborn… Heh. All commendable qualities, of course.

Tap Home (Groovification): Soldiers have to be able to sleep under any conditions, though we’re no real soldiers. That is to say… The conditions in Ramshackle are rather unique.

~

taglist (ask to be added or removed): @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @casp1an-sea @nahelenia

@skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @scint1llat3 @nyx-of-night @nemisisnemi

@beneathsakurashade @sillyslipperybananapeel @kathxrat-01 @lumdays @twistedwonderlandshenanigans

@taruruchi @oya-oya-okay @kitwasnothere

[kayrma]

See You At the Next Stop

Lily Evans meets a posh-looking bloke with messy hair on the way back to London, and for once in her life she actually enjoys a train ride. Maybe having a spontaneous seat partner isn't that bad after all.

Read on AO3 (2.9k words)

happy birthday, lily evans-potter! didn't have enough time to finish my punk!lily fic but i realized i never actually posted this fic from two years ago to tumblr so this is my contribution for today <3

Lily stared down the document in front of her, willing her brain to start writing words again. She had been on the train for nearly two hours now, travelling from Edinburgh to London. Visiting home had been yet another disaster, with Petunia continuing to judge Lily for moving to London after school and finding an inner-city job.  Her sister liked to say that Lily was wasting her money trying to live on her own (which was a lie, Lily had a lovely roommate named Mary), and that she’d be better off staying home and finding a husband. Sometimes, Lily thought Petunia was stuck in the nineteenth century, but she blamed most of that on her horrendous boyfriend Vernon, who worked for a drilling company or something else of the sort – it seemed far too boring to keep track of. 

Really, Lily had only gone home to visit their mum, following the two-year anniversary of her father’s death. His death had hit their family hard, despite them all knowing it was coming. Her father had suffered from cancer in his final years, but it still hurt knowing he was gone. Mr. Evans was Lily’s biggest supporter, encouraging her to attend Cambridge despite the monetary toll it would put on their family. He had helped her search for scholarships, and she ended up going to university for much lower than she ever could have expected without her father’s help. He was the one who helped her move to London, being there to help her move into her tiny flat despite him slowly growing weaker. She missed him every day, and she missed her mum, but she needed to be back in the city for work tomorrow.

Snapping out of her painful memories, Lily looked back at the half-empty document, with only a title and an introduction on it, not even in Times New Roman yet. She switched the font, the Arial irritating her, and leaned back into her seat. Even though she was on the high-speed rail, the train ride had felt impossibly long. She was seated next to some messy-haired Indian bloke, his glasses on top of his head and earbuds plugged in as he typed away on his own laptop. The man was gorgeous, to say the least, especially since he had unbuttoned the top collar of his dress shirt, and was wearing Converse with his slacks. Really, she couldn’t not admire him. Lily had a personal policy of not sitting next to men if she could avoid it, but he looked around her age and seemed relatively unassuming when he got on at Newcastle about an hour after her, and Lily found herself unable to say no. A part of Lily had wanted to ask him for his name, to know more about him, but he seemed to be a little bit of a mess as he got on the train. All he offered her was an apologetic smile as he struggled to shove his duffel into the overhead compartment as the train started moving. She smiled back at him, perhaps a little too eagerly in comparison to his semi-grimace. He had rolled up his sleeves as he sat down, and what was Lily supposed to do but stare at his well-defined tan forearms? He probably worked in some posh company, considering his attire (not that Lily could judge, she was still wearing business casual as well). Any time she peeked over at his laptop, he was typing furiously into some form of sheets that she truly could not decipher no matter how much she wanted to try. Looking away from him and turning her attention back to her own laptop, her brain felt like it was about to melt. 

Deciding to take a break, Lily closed her laptop, ridding her mind of thoughts about her struggling article. She pulled out her phone, and seeing that her plan was about to run out for the month, she started to play some silly game that didn’t require any data. At that moment, the messy-haired bloke looked over, saying “Oh, I love that game!”

He had said it extremely loud, presumably because he was blasting music in his earbuds, but Lily laughed and turned towards him.

“Really? All my mates make fun of me for playing it – what level are you on?”

“Oh, don’t worry, my mates do the same. They say it’s because I still act like a ‘bloody child’ but I think I just enjoy a bit of mindless fun, y’know?”

Lily nodded, glad to see that she had something in common with the gorgeous bloke. He hadn’t told her what level he was on, but his smile and enthusiasm more than made up for it.

“Regardless, I’ll let you get back to the game, this project might be the death of me.”

She slumped back as gracefully as she could, disappointed that he was busy, but she shot him another smile and went back to playing her silly little game. After exhausting her thumbs, she genuinely felt like she had lost brain cells, choosing to just put away her phone and relax with some music. Putting her head against the seat, she closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking entirely. However, no matter how much she tried to empty her mind, the bloke next to her kept popping into her mind. She ended up just embracing it, allowing her mind to fill with thoughts of who he could possibly be as she felt herself drifting off into sleep. 

Lily had no idea when she woke up, but she felt an impossible crick in her neck as she opened up her eyes. Quickly checking her watch for the time, she realized she had only been asleep for a little over half an hour, and sighed in relief – she’d still have time to try and work on her article again. However, as she tried to get up, she realized there was a weight on top of her head. Glancing upwards, she realized she had fallen asleep on the bloke’s shoulder, and he was leaning back on top of her head as his hands were stilled on his laptop. His shoulders were sturdy and broad, and Lily thought that she wouldn’t mind staying there forever. Not wanting to disturb him as he seemed utterly relaxed, Lily stayed put, hoping he’d wake up soon. 

After a few minutes (that felt like a lovely forever), his head lifted off of hers, and she took the opportunity to escape. Before she could even look at him, she heard the sound of his neck cracking as he stretched it, and Lily’s jaw dropped wide open. 

“That sounded like it hurt,” she commented discreetly, hoping he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. 

He smiled at her, glasses almost slipping off his nose now, rather than tangled in his messy hair. Shaking his head, he said “I always do it to wake myself up, it feels rather good actually.” The bloke proceeded to crack each one of his knuckles, and then his wrist. Lily grimaced at the noise, but couldn’t help herself from laughing. She figured she should probably apologize to him for falling asleep on him, even though she didn’t know how she ended up on his shoulder. 

“I’m Lily, by the way. Sorry I fell asleep on you. I’ve been working on an article and my brain genuinely felt like it might have melted if I hadn’t taken a break.”

“No worries Lily, it’s lovely to meet you,” he stuck out his hand, “Potter. James Potter.”

“Bond-like, are we?” Lily took his hand and gave him a firm handshake, trying to put on as serious of a face as she could in order to mirror his own expression. 

“Of course, milady Evans. What takes you to London this fine weekend?”

“Why Mr. Potter, I’m heading back to work. I visited my mum in Edinburgh, and I’ve got a roommate and a flat and a job to get back to tomorrow.”

“Is that so?” James flashed a smirk that would have brought her to her knees if she hadn’t already been sitting down. “Well Evans, I’ve just done the same, except that I visited my mum and dad in Newcastle, and am heading back to the flat I share with my brother and our friends, and a job as well.”

Lily giggled, of all things, and looked down to realize that their hands were still intertwined from when he had reached out to shake them. She dropped it before she could get too flustered, and tried not to notice the disappointed look on James’ face. 

“Right then, Potter, where do you work? I’d bet it’s somewhere posh, with the clothing you’re wearing and those sheets you were typing away on.”

Clearly surprised she had noticed, James’ quick reaction gave away that she seemed to have gotten everything right.

“Stalking me already Evans? And then falling asleep on me? Have you got some sort of ploy going on here, an evil scheme or whatnot?”

“Oh of course, I’m a journalist for The Daily Prophet, you see, and you’re the subject of my next story. James Potter: The Posh Bloke with Messy Hair and Unfinished Work.”

James let out a loud laugh at that, startling the other people in the full cabin. They all seemed to glare at him, despite his laugh being perfectly beautiful in her opinion.  He raised a thick eyebrow, questioning her with just that one expression.

“Alright, well you’re not the subject of my next article Potter, sorry to disappoint. But I do really work for The Daily Prophet, and I’m afraid I’m the one with unfinished work seeing as my article’s barely hit a page yet.”

“And you’re sure it can’t be about me? My messy hair just won’t do for The Prophet?”

“Afraid not, sorry, unless you’ve got a secret as to how you manage to keep it that messy. You’ve run your hands through it more than I can count in just the time we’ve been talking, and it’s not shown a single sign of being tamed.”

“Well Evans, I suppose I’ll let you in on a secret then.” He leaned in close to her, his lips almost brushing her ear as his breath made her shudder. “My dad’s actually the creator of Sleakeazy’s Hair Products, and I refuse to use it out of principle.”

Lily’s head snapped around so quickly it nearly gave her whiplash. She looked at James with an incredulous look on her face – there was no way he was telling the truth. But his face looked so earnest, completely devoid of his teasing demeanor, and Lily ended up just staring at him in bafflement. He snickered as she continued to stare him down, and his hands went right back up to muss up his hair.

“Yeah, I know. My brother ended up with the good hair genes, considering Sleakeazy’s has never really been able to do much for me anyways. Well, he’s not really my brother, we took him in after he ran away from his shitty family, but he’s my brother in everything but blood.”

James seemed like he was about to continue rambling, almost like his mouth was moving quicker than his brain. Lily reached out to put her hand on his wrist, but whether she did it to calm him down or for her own benefit, she didn’t quite know. 

“That’s really sweet of you and your family, James,” she gave him a small smile, “You’re clearly of the good sort. Maybe I will write my article about you after all. James Potter: A Bloke with Messy Hair and a Penchant for Being a Good Person.”

“All that from a bit of rambling, eh, Evans?” He was evidently smug, happy with the perception he’d given of himself. Something about his smirk made Lily want to wipe it clean off his face with a kiss, but it was far too early and far too public of an area to do that. Instead, she humored him with a laugh, and pulled her laptop out of her bag. 

Opening a new document, she enlarged the font into the awful old-Gothic newspaper style that came preloaded, and wrote up all the silly titles she’d come up with today. James reached for it slowly, wordlessly asking permission to take her laptop. She nodded and passed it to him, curious to see what he’d possibly type. He deleted all the words she’d put in, and changed the font to fucking Lobster, of all things, and then turned the laptop away from her. James seemed to be taking his time to think about what he was about to type, mussing up his hair yet again. After a minute or so of anticipation, he turned the laptop back to her, and it read: “James Potter: A Bloke with Messy Hair Who’d Like to Take One Lily Evans on a Date.”

Lily gave him what might have been the goofiest grin of all time, snatched back her laptop, changed the font to a respectable Times, enlarged it, and wrote in “Yes” so that it would fill up the page. James smiled back at her with the same reckless abandon, and leaned over to hold her hand. And then the computer nearly slipped off her lap.

They both reached for it, knocking heads in the process, but managed to save it from a horrific death on the train (she was a journalist, she needed to make use of her sensationalizing skills sometimes), and they both started laughing. They kept going even as she quickly put her laptop back in its bag. The passengers around them were definitely staring at them with irritation now, but that meant nothing to her if it meant seeing James’ smile. She leaned back into him and grabbed his hand to hold it properly this time, looking up at him like she could ravish him right there. He stared back at her with the same dark look in her eyes, and kissed her forehead and her nose. 

God, this boy and his ability to make her giggle. She whispered, “If you’d like to kiss me, you can just do it, y’know?”

He leaned in for a chaste kiss, “Right, but if I kissed you like I wanted to right now, we’d probably get a complaint for public indecency. Besides, it’s just another half hour to London, and my flat’s not too far from the station.” And then he winked at her. Lily gaped at him with an open mouth, and James pushed it back closed after a beat, saying “Don’t catch any flies in there, love.” Truly, James Potter was an enigma she could write an article on. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll get back to writing my article then. It seems I might be busy after we get off this train.” 

James stared her down as she pulled her laptop back out of its back, tied up her hair, and for extra flair, picked his glasses off his head and put them on. 

“Fuck, nevermind, you’re blind as a bat, Potter,” Lily blinked furiously, and shoved them back onto his face. James ruffled his hair (of course he did), and reopened his own work. Before he started working though, he reached over and pulled her closer to him, so much so that she was nearly on his lap, and then took his arm right back away once she was squished into him. Embracing the position, Lily opened a new document, abandoning the pages she had previously written, deciding that her next article would just have to be about something more lighthearted than the current foreign affairs of the UK government; her boss Minerva could probably appreciate some good news anyway. Pulling up the notes of an old interview she had done. Finally finding a rhythm as she typed away, Lily was startled by the “London, next stop!” that blared over the train’s PA system. She glanced over at James, who seemed just as rattled, and they both put their things away in unison. As everyone else on the trains stood from their seats to take their luggage, James immediately bumped his head as he got up.

“Bloody hell, these have no right being so low,” He grumbled as he stretched out and reached for his duffel.

“Sure you won’t need help with your bag this time, Potter?” Lily felt the need to tease him, just to humble him with her first impression of him from when he boarded the train. As if to prove a point, James swiped her bag off the overhead carry bin as well, and held on to both of them as the cabin started to clear out. Lily did a final check of their seats, and lightly jogged to follow him out.

“Well Potter, I recall you saying your flat wasn’t too far from the station. Are you planning on making good on that?”

“Of course Evans, what kind of man do you take me for? I’ll have you know I don’t put out on the first date though, I’ll be making you food since my flat’s got a stellar kitchen.” She raised an eyebrow at him, willing him to continue, because she wanted to know what he could possibly be making for her. “My mum’s aloo tikki recipe, I think you’ll like it.”

“This feels like a dig at me for being half-Irish, but I never mentioned that, so I’ll accept it. I look forward to seeing your cooking skills since you’ve got the sort of hair that would catch on fire in a kitchen.”

James gave her that stunning smile again, and grabbed her hand as they walked out of the station, and on the way to his flat. Lily had a good feeling about this bloke with messy hair and enough charm to create a whole new world.

[emotionalsupport-ljh]

SVT Members and Liking Big Girls

inspired by this post by @honeytbz

Note: this is all my opinion! I'm a big girl so I gotta represent.

Seungcheol is on record saying he likes girls who like to eat. He would like a tall and big girl with a great sense of style, so he could dress her like a fashion doll.

Jeonghan would like a shapely big girl. I don't know why I get this vibe from him. It's not like in a dirty way where he's always checking girls out, but like he admires a womanly figure.

Joshua has a much wider view of beauty than most of the world. He doesn't care about a girl's size, as long as she's sweet and kind and funny.

Jun would like a big girl who is short and very round in shape with a Hello Kitty obsession. Like the closer she is to looking like one of the O.C.L triplets, the better.

Hoshi likes any girl that will like him back and call him a tiger. He's smitten with anyone with a chubby cheeked smile, and if she likes him back, that's that.

Wonwoo would spend all of his time cuddling with a big girl. He's watching her play the Switch in bed and just and hugging her as tight as he physically can.

Woozi would like a powerlifting big girl. He would be so geeked if he could watch his girlfriend lift hundreds of pounds. He might get jealous of her ability, but he would be so incredibly proud.

Minghao would like a plus-size model. He'd be obsessed with a girl who could break into the high-fashion industry and revolutionize it. She would draw attention by being herself and not bending to any backwards beauty standard, and he would admire that.

Mingyu would like any type of big girl. I don't think he would care. Like as much as we all agree that Cheol definitely like big girls, Mingyu LIKES BIG GIRLS.

DK would like an incredibly confident big girl. He would be inspired by that confidence and let go of some of his own insecurities. He would spend all of his time trying to repay her.

Seungkwan would like a big girl who could match his idgaf attitude. He would want to go for a walk and be like "We shouldn't get a little treat, right" but he'd definitely end up at a cafe with her to get a sweet drink and a little pastry.

Vernon wouldn't notice or care if a girl is big. Like if she mentions her weight, he would be like "Damn, people still care about that? Crazy" and move on which is refreshing. He's a 'bodies are bodies' guy.

Dino would like a big girl who could shake her ass on the dance floor. He wouldn't be gawking; I just think he would join her, throwing it back. He would start a whole dance circle to watch her, then he'd jump in for his turn.

[athousandbyeol]

keep up the thamepo [episode 8]

this episode easily became my favourite episode after episode 1. the flavours are beautifully mixed and I love how everything ties together into a wonderful and coherent dish.

i was fearful of the possibility of them dragging the jun-thame-po drama until the end of the episode, but I'm glad they resolved it at such a right pace and gave us more time to witness another step taken by thame and po—the progress of their relationship is beautiful and captivating. it makes me giddy and happy and shy and rooting for them even more.

i don't have much to say about the past few episodes because they're quite direct and easy to digest (in my opinion). however, I'm keen on talking about jun's side of the story and the physical intimacy between thame and po (finally!)

p.s. i do apologise for not writing this weekly thamepo post for episodes 6 and 7 for reasons I've stated previously. but without further ado, let's begin!

1. jun's unrequited love — his sacrifice for the friendship that means more than the world to him

for weeks, i've been asking myself, "what's up with jun?"

his actions confused me because the series!jun was doing things that were different from novel!jun. for context, I read some spoilers a few weeks ago, and I learned that in the novel, jun likes thame. the air hockey scene was when he was *kind of* confessing his feelings for thame, but not directly and openly. i don't know how novel!jun treats novel!po, therefore I can't really make a deduction if he's also falling for po. but in terms of the series!jun, I believe he did like po.

let's be serious. he wouldn't be here if he didn't have feelings for po. i don't think anyone can convince me (at this point) that he didn't like po romantically.

he knew thame was busy dealing with khun pemika at the company (and other stuff pertaining to MARS), so he took another step to be there for po when thame couldn't—he didn't want po to feel left out or abandoned.

it's so fascinating to me that at this point, jun believed that their feelings were one-sided; he knew po liked thame, but jun didn't believe that thame would feel the same. i think this has a lot to do with the fact that thame is more of show not tell kind of person.

jun was looking at thame and po—he was observing them. he was trying to put two and two together (and hoping that the answer wouldn't be four because if it did—he would have to back off). but the answer was indeed four and jun...

i think, at the back of jun's mind, he knew what was happening between thame and po—it was so obvious that they shared something mutual. but jun was battling his own devils. along the way, as his feelings grew for po, and all those moments spent with po—perhaps jun saw that he had a chance. he only had to be in this headspace where he believed thame didn't feel the same for po. thus, why jun was running away from thame—because jun knew, if he confronted thame (or vice versa), he would discover the truth. and I guess, he wasn't ready for that rejection.

jun was really attentive, and that wasn't a surprise. he was always watching and trying to access/understand the situation. i guess, aside from pepper, jun would be the next to see the bigger picture. he would be the one to take charge if thame and pepper couldn't.

he knew po's favourite snacks. he wanted to be there with po—for po. even though he's brash and rough, this was his way of showing that he cared—he loved.

(i think i've covered more extensively jun's character in this post for better understanding of where I'm coming from hehe)

so the confrontation began and jun said everything he wanted to say to thame.

in my opinion, jun believed that whatever thame were doing for po wasn't enough. i guess, jun put himself in po's shoes for a while here—it reminded him of how thame selflessly took all the burden of MARS and carried them on his shoulders alone. thame did those things for the sake of the group, and jun found that unbelievably selfish because they're in a group—he's supposed to be thame's best friend, someone he could trust and talk to—they should be in this together. but it was second nature for thame to take everything and leave nothing on the plate, probably because of his role as a leader.

i think jun was hoping that thame wouldn't do that alone. he didn't want thame to blame himself for everything that happened to MARS before they reunited. jun didn't like many decisions thame made, so this was why he decided to distance himself from MARS and led the other members astray from thame. it was his way of coping with problems and betrayal and disappointment: he would run because he wanted to avoid conflict—he didn't want to paint anyone as the bad guy.

so this was what he did: he avoided thame so that he didn't have to confess his own feelings for po, while he vaguely knew that po might not feel the same.

even though i know many of us (me included) were confused about jun and the reason behind his doings, this episode really cleared the air for me. he loved his friendship with thame more than anything—he loved thame a lot to put a stop to their years of friendship. people could say anything about him, but at the end of the day, jun genuinely cared about thame and po. and he chose them over his own feelings.

(i also love the back-and-forth tension between jun and thame as they confessed the things they'd been dying to say to each other. and each time they were right, the puck entered the goal. that was so effective to prove the intensity of their emotions from a literary standpoint I was actually vibrating in awe because they DID THAT so well ugh it was so delicious!!!)

but the thing that made me scream and lose my breath was thame asked jun "you like him, don't you?" and the puck entered jun's goal OH MY GOD THAT WAS PEAK CINEMA in my opinion!!!

and jun was transported back to those moments shared with po, that little time he spent with po—these feelings that were growing fonder by the second. they were fleeting, but still so beautiful. (if this isn't love then I guess... I'm blindsided by love. i don't know what love is anymore t_t)

and it broke me when jun answered, "it doesn't matter how I feel," because JUN, LOVE, YOUR FEELINGS MATTERED GOODNESS :'(

and when jun said to thame, "you don't even have feelings for him," THAME STOPPED THE PUCK FROM ENTERING HIS GOAL GOODNESS THAT WAS ANOTHER PEAK CINEMA MOMENT BECAUSE!!!!!!!

it wasn't true. he had feelings for po. he loved po. thame loved po so much.

i think, due to his inexperience, thame didn't know much about navigating his feelings for po. he didn't know what was enough and what was overdoing things. thame was always standing on this thin line between sanity and madness—he didn't know how to find the perfect balance. there was no doubt that thame liked more so intensely, but in jun's eyes (and I believe pepper too), thame wasn't doing enough. and po could oblivious sometimes so that was why jun saw this as a chance for him to make a move—to revolve with po. because love wasn't only about late-night texts and failed movie dates and long walks and heart-to-heart talks. love should be thame moving forward with po and not for po—love should be thame holding po's hand and facing the upcoming obstacle together—not just handling it alone.

jun just didn't want thame to repeat the same mistake he did with MARS. after he knew everything from po about thame's sacrifices (in episode 3), he was gutted that thame kept so much guilt and anger alone. he just wanted thame to prove (more to himself than anyone) that he was a man of his word—he would be there for MARS and po. he would love and protect them as promised.

jun and thame's friendship runs deeper than the sea and we can't pretend that we can't see the depth of their understanding and reliance on each other. these two individuals have so much love to give and receive, but the winner takes all—and in this game, thame won.

thame said that even though they'd been friends for a long time, neither of them had to back down if they really liked po. this also proved thame's selflessness and also his openness to accepting the what-ifs of po not picking him.

however, i believe, jun loves thame and this friendship more than his blossoming feelings for po—jun backed down for the sake of this friendship—for his love and respect for thame. //jun... I've wronged you in so many ways. I'm sorry that I doubted you. love, you deserve more than the entire world :'(//

jun said he didn't have feelings for po: this was his way of waving the white flag. i think jun believed it wasn't worth giving up years of friendship and watching it going down the drain just for a person—even though jun hoped it could transpire into something more meaningful if he never discovered about thame's truest feelings for po. but like I said, it was clear from the start that thame and po liked each other, and all jun wanted (and tried to avoid) was to believe he could be in thame's shoes if thame stayed in his spot—if he didn't get the clarification from thame about his feelings for po.

jun was obviously dejected and disheartened, but he masked it so well with that usual smugness. but at least, in my eyes, I knew jun genuinely liked po, and he cared about him in ways that thame was lacking before. but he believed po was better off with thame instead of him since their feelings were already equal.

and i have an inkling that thame—to an extent—knew that jun was lying. i think thame knew jun liked po too... and this was why episode 3!jun and episode 3!thame were so important to be understood because their friendship is so genuine and strong and nothing could ever break this bond except the both of them. thame was aware of the sacrifices jun did and vice versa. this wouldn't affect their friendship—this wouldn't make them crumble. they loved each other too much to let it happen (although they'll never say this aloud).

jun turned from a thame's potential competitor to thamepo's unofficial cupid. no one's doing it like jun. he's the OG definition of 'best friend' in my opinion: a pain in the ass, but would stand up for others no matter what.

and the way he was looking at po here... it felt like a goodbye to his feelings for po :( but I hope they'll continue being this bickering duo and frenemies because jun really helped po see his potential and po gave jun warmth and comfort like never before :(

also, shoutout to nut for being the perfect jun! you're an amazing actor! the emotional rollercoaster you strapped me into while watching your shenanigans and heart eyes for po gave me chest pains (tbvh). but friend, I love you. i hope you'll find happiness *coughs* dylan *coughs* ;)

it drives me insane that jun and po were finally meeting somewhere with a brighter setting and lighting—probably hinting that both of their feelings are no longer in the dark. no one was hiding from the truth anymore.

this was when jun got the last confirmation that po liked thame—and this was where po knew that thame liked him too. this ended on a bittersweet note for jun, but an epiphany for po. //my heart hurts for unknown reasons...//

2. physical intimacy — another step forward, a moment of clarity

sometimes, i think, thamepo took the slow burn too seriously because what do you mean in episode 8 we finally got them properly holding hands??? (but i love it so much T_T)

but the whole sequence of thame and po talking, trying to squeeze out the 'i like you' from each other but didn't get to because that felt too heavy on their shoulders for now. so they settled with conversations filled with metaphors and symbols and I'm always down for that ;)

i think this was the first time that they were this physically close. my heart was in my throat for the remaining 13 minutes because they were so shy and this moment felt so intimate and sensual and I shouldn't be prodding but I couldn't stop gawking at them finally being this close and all over each other (metaphorically) and I didn't know where they were heading—

and thame decided to watch the movie in po's room because, like jun said—

"why you should be there in a rush? seeing him today, I guess, at most, you'll just end up staring at each other. I'm telling you, during the first six months of dating him, even holding hands is an achievement. and it will take two whole years before you two get to kiss. as for going to his room, i'd say it'll definitely take up to five years."

the way i CACKLED because jun, friend, sorry to burst your bubble, but these knuckleheads FINALLY HELD HANDS!!!!!!!!!

i wondered if i was a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle for the first time because this scene got me squeaking and screeching and hollering and screaming and giggling and blushing and losing my marbles because yes!!! finally! they were one step closer (literally and physically)! thame was really proving jun wrong because this guy was done being vanilla xD

there's really this different charge in the air after thame and po reached a moment of clarity through jun. thame was visibly more confident, and po was more open to accepting thame's advances (even though he was still nervous. i think this still has a lot to do with the emotional trauma that po has after his break-up with earn).

thame did the korean male lead move here and expect me not to scream??? the audacity.

and when thame said he wanted to do so many things (to po and with po), but watching a movie in po's room would be enough for this new beginning—THAME YOU'RE INSANE!!!

and yes, thame was buying a bottle of water and lozenges for his throat to spend the night with po (and not what we had in mind... 👀)

we know what's coming next week. and that particular scene (the second picture)... if you know, you know... //readying myself to jump off the nearest rooftop//

are we even ready for thamepo dating era? //i'm not...//

[nerdishpursuits]

The novelita really hit the gas pedal these episodes and everyone is still reeling (worth mentioning, maybe, that this post is hella lengthy and rambles about various characters and plotlines) And by everyone I mean the fandom, because the characters themselves jumped through some mental hoops and, allegedly, stuck the landing? Kinda. Sorta. Maybe. 1. I think it makes sense for Fina to have spent the night at the colony. They are, after all, trying to keep a low profile as much as possible, even if it hurts to be apart. And Marta couldn't have visited Fina's room without raising suspicion or confirming rumors. Therefore, because their circumstances are as painful as they are? Marta has to fall apart on her own and Fina ends up finding out from the newspaper.

2. Marta's devastation when Fina all but begs her to please, marry Pelayo? To please do it for them, for herself and for Fina too? Because the rumor-mill, the slurs and the danger they are in? It’s all suffocating? Because Fina cannot bear the thought of Marta being exposed and unprotected and because they need a safety net that actually works? Because all Fina wants is to be with Marta, unafraid, and sees Pelayo's proposal as the only way to achieve their dream of a life together, long-term?

It goes without saying there is nothing Marta wouldn't do for Fina: she'd walk through fire, she'd cross an ocean and she'd wear the shackles of a marriage she doesn't want. After all, the sole reason Marta, despondently, acquiesces? Is because she witnesses Fina's own despair. And that breaks Marta. It breaks her heart and her resolve and sets them down an unknown path. One they are hoping will lead to protection for them both and a life together. But one that is also riddled with unknown variables and the unexpected. Which is, I assume, where the upcoming drama stems from.

While theirs will no longer be a relationship that solely involves the two of them? This doesn’t mean it won’t be rewarding. Yes, it would seem Pelayo is here to stay. Whether we like it or not, and as well-intentioned as he may be, he will also become a center-piece, weighing on their time together.

At any rate, this marriage has social, financial and personal consequences neither of them is truly aware of. It will be interesting to see them explore it. If they carve out a path as friends and accomplices, who care about each other and protect each other? It will be a joy to watch.

I know we'd all like Marta & Fina to live happily ever after in their own little bubble. But is it a viable scenario? I think not. It’s not sustainable on a show and it’s not sustainable in real life. More so, Marta & Fina exist as characters outside of Mafin. They have their own obligations, ambitions and desires and there will always be other people, or circumstances, demanding their time and attention. What matters? Is that at the end of the day they find their way back to each other. They are each other’s home, and so to each other they eagerly return.

In the meantime? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that pent up need? It will be waiting for the right moment to be unleashed. Their most passionate moments (the EMPOTRAMIENTO and Despachamiento) were a direct result of being kept apart somehow, of missing each other desperately, of reaching a breaking point where holding back ceased to be an option. I, for one, am all in favor of that kind of delicious tension and angst. It makes their coming together (pun very much intended) all the more satisfying. Meanwhile, we’ll have to see what happens with OP (Operation Pelayo). Who knows, theirs might end up being a long engagement that doesn’t culminate in marriage. Pelayo might end up simply being the ally Marta needs in the boardroom. Wherever they take this? My hope is they become good friends, the three of them. Los tres Diverteros. All for gay and gay for all.

I mean. This kind of scenes are peak comedy. The music, the expressions, the gestures. I hope they keep at it.

And on to arid pastures. TOSSio de la Ruina is a treacherous, back-stabbing lowlife. I find myself wondering if this character can be redeemed. Personally, I don't think so anymore and I’m done holding out hope. Truth be told, I’d really enjoy seeing him fall with the Merino. It's only a matter of time.

The nepo-baby who claims he didn´t ascend due to preferential treatment is named second in command because he voted for the Merino. It´s utterly laughable. He also runs his mouth claiming he´s the same old Tossio and a surname won´t change him? Well, newsflash. His every move is motivated by a profound feeling of inadequacy. He never stops feeling like he’s on the outside looking in. Never stops feeling he is less. But he misunderstands the reason. He is less not because he’s the illegitimate son. He his less because of a lack of moral fiber and an abundance of self-righteous pettiness and delusions of grandeur.

Speaking of Tossio being pretty. The chip on his shoulder? Of not feeling equal to his siblings? He’s so profoundly obfuscated by it it’s hilarious. In some ways, he will never be their equal. Not because of social standing or them looking down on him. They will always be different because they grew up in different worlds.

That being said, Fina is the best example that such differences don’t really matter. The woman Marta proudly calls her wife belongs to the working class. And Marta couldn’t be more proud of her, brimming with admiration and respect. Fina? Fina is every bit Marta’s equal. But TOSSio? He might as well carry a sign around his neck reading It’s me, Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.

And that’s why Tossio de la Ruina and the MeriNO? A match made in treason and one of the main reasons this business formula will fail, spectacularly. Iceberg, right ahead. The Titanic also had a crew and look where it got them. After all, Joaquin knows he gave Marta's former position to Tossio solely because he voted for him. Not so long ago he too was condemning Tossio's every move and didn't agree with Damián ascending him. In fact, he vehemently disapproved of it, same as Marta. And look at him now: taking over via manipulations, treachery and favoritism. They will fail so badly and I cannot wait to see it all blow up in their faces.

I mean. It’s already started. Luis in charge of logistics, Tossio second in command? They only need to promote Gema as Encargada, replacing Carmen, and idiocy will reign supreme. If that were to happen, watch Tossio rejoice because he’d finally have Carmen where he truly wants her: jobless, while he plays man of the house. Oh well. Place the cart before the horse, why don’t you. See how it all goes. It would seem the Merino have inherited their father’s nose for business, or lack thereof. Leading the business has left no one unscathed, so it will be fun to watch the Merino eat dirt and choke on it. Also. Will be interesting to see if Carmen sides with husband dearest, given she's still annoyed with Marta. That brief phone call with Tossio, in which she sounded thrilled with his ascension and promised to celebrate it with pomp and circumstance upon her return? It gives me pause. Carmen has been shown to be fair and righteous, taking shit from no one. Should she end up not caring her husband betrayed the very woman who supported and ascended Carmen? Who ascended them both? Well. Let’s just say it would be hugely disappointing and a complete 180 for this character. My hope is she’ll, rightfully, give him hell. We’ll have to wait and see.

It also just hit me that Carmen’s kind of the catalyst for Tossio poor decisions. Ever since she dropped the ball on Marta and Fina’s relationship? Tossio has been seeing things that aren’t and making piss-poor decisions based on optical-delusions. Knowing that Fina is Marta’s partner has led him down a path of outlandish conclusions. The mental gymnastics this man performs defy all reason. I can’t wait for his brilliance to shine upon the new directorship. 1 + 1 and we’re all done! Drunk on power, he’s already started making bad decisions and exasperating his partner in crime. Downhill, with aplomb, yes siree.

And damn, I absolutely loved Marta ignoring him completely and bypassing him as if he were a stain on the carpet. I’m surprised he didn’t freeze over when she glided past. Ice Queen Marta is a thing of beauty.

It also seems Carpena is dead set on removing Marta entirely. He's not satisfied with having deposed as her CEO. No, he knows she's the Queen on this chess board, the one who could hinder their plans. I suspect the Merino will soon find themselves at a crossroads, faced with a familiar conundrum: either make the same choice Damián lived to regret, or show some backbone. Should the plotline lead there, it will be interesting to see how they handle it. Ultimately, trying to destroy Marta for loving a woman, because they cannot destroy her any other way? It might just be the wake-up call they need. Carpena will continue to push for that particular outcome, no doubt about it. We’ll have to see if the Merino's much touted moral checks and balances actually hold, or if their desire for power irrevocably blinds them.

I’d also love to see a Fina vs. Digna confrontation. Honestly, Fina's reaction once she learns Digna was instrumental in deposing Marta? It would be high on my list. To learn that this woman, who claims to love her like a daughter, used information about them to further her own agenda against Marta’s family. And, ultimately, against Marta herself, whom she also claims to love. Digna needs a good dose of unvarnished truth and Fina delivering it? Would be chef’s kiss. I can also see Digna trying to badmouth Marta once she learns about her marriage to Pelayo: of course she'd throw you aside for power, she's a de la Reina. Alright, alright, I confess. I really want to see Fina rip Digna a new one.

Last but not least. Of course Andres is innocent of murder. The only thing he does is Begona. The rest of the time he can be found between the pages of the dictionary, under the definition of useless. He doesn't deserve Marta’a loyalty. He truly doesn't. El soso más inutil del planeta. Then again, Marta’s the bigger person. Always has been. Special mention to Damián’s all-knowing grin, confronting Marta about her impending nuptials? Gurl, I wasn't born yesterday so out with the fine-print.

Damián’s recently upgraded gaydar working overtime:

I may not be as modem as you, young folk. But I know you’re all about WIFE-I Marta. This Lan connection business offers the security of jiber optics but it’s not the way you’re routed. Did I troubleshoot that or what? *wink wink, nudge nudge*

I love their dynamic so much.

Post-cleanser needed because I’ve spent way too much time ranting about undesirables.

I’ll never get over the way Fina and Marta look at each other. The way they melt for each other. The way their love and devotion for each other cannot be contained. Ever. They way they seek each other out constantly, needing to be close, needing to touch, to reaffirm and love. They are each other’s home. Endlessly.

[lilbardrhi]

CoD RPer/Creator PSAs/Reminders (EDITED)

Roleplayers/Roleplay Blogs

It has been brought to my attention by a friend that some RP blogs (that I don't recognize the handles for, so I'm asuming they're fresh to the community) have been interacting with other fandom members posts, but not specifying if it's out of character or not.

As a roleplay blog, it is your responsibility to make sure creators are ok with you interacting, in-character, with their content. A lot of content creators have such posted somewhere on their blog whether or not they are ok with in-character interactions. It is your responsibility, as the interactor, to make sure you are specifying if you are interacting in-character or out based on the creator's contnent of which you are attempting to interact with.

Not everyone is ok with our (roleplayers') interactions in-character on their content. That is reansonable and should be respected. PLEASE check a creator's blog for their boundaries PRIOR to interacting with a roleplay blog handle. If you see no mention of rp blog in-character interaction (permission OR denial), please assume that is a NO/Do Not Interact.

I would like to note that no one is "in trouble", we just need to be aware - as a community - that some people in fandoms (not just CoD) don't even want the fan-made content, others just want art or fic, some want to roleplay or interact with the roleplay blogs, etc, but not all fandom members want every side of the fandom.

Creators/Creator Blogs

It is your responsibility to have your boundaries for interacting with your blog posted somewhere that is easily found on your blog. Yes, some would assume "no mention of consent to 'x' interaction listed" would mean "do not interact", but other people do not read a lack of boundary as such, unfortunately. I am hoping that this post, as the rp side of CoD Tumblr is still small, will reach as many roleplay blogs as possible.

I hope everyone is having a beautiful time zone! I will have my own boundaries/blog interactions up soon, but will say here that I am just fine with the roleplay blogs interacting with this blog ( @lilbardrhi ) in character. This statement will be included in my pinned post once I finish it and get it posted/pinned.

Roleplay blogs I have interacted with (in and out of character) or am following (not that y'all are doing this, I just want to make sure this is seen) tags to spread awareness: @ghost-askblog @askthemactav @shadow-5-05 @shadow-2-08 @shadowcompanys-medic-beaks @itsvargen @krueger-acc @brav0six @ask-private-141 @call-sign-songbird @konigisking @justradiospirit @ask-corporaltwins-141 @verytiredmedic @ask-theplaguedahlia @callsign-king @shadow5-7 @captain-after-dark @lieutenant-banks @lusttoke @callsign-trebletrouble @alejandro-ask @el-perro-rabiosa @callsign-kits @price-askblog @b1gm0n3yb1gg3rc4n3 @callsign-cups @ask-alejandro @keegan-askblog @generalshepherd-askblog @gaz-askblog @ask-alex-keller @valera-askblog @ask-roachsanderson @jeanzoriley-cod @ask-gaz @ask-soapmactavish @ask-phillip-graves @johnprice-asks @ask-philgraves @soap-askblog @konig-askbox <- Literally everyone I'm following. If I know you have different blogs for different characters, I only tagged one blog. If I don't know such information, I apologize for the multi-tag. Just trying to keep everyone on the same page. Notice that my tags for this post are not just "cod rp", but also "cod fanfic" and "cod fanart".

We need to work together to make sure boundaries are respected.

Adore you all! The Lil Bard, Rhi (previously backseatsoldier)

P.S. - If you are a minor running a roleplay blog, you have my express permission to reblog this post!!!