#school so what she always lacked was something unique to set her apart

[songtwo]

Abt Wednesday, I'm a huge Addams family fan and I was looking forward to see a school full of supergoth kids but... She's 'the' goth girl? Weird. Also I wish they told you more about the school, like does everyone have powers? It doesn't seem to be the case, the worldbuilding is a bit lacking, for me. Also the love triangle just makes me laugh. I like both guys but... Why. Other than that it entertains me but I was hoping for something much different. It should be much much weirder.

The way if they didn't tell u every 5 seconds it's a school for weirdos u wouldn't even realize like they literally look like they go to Riverdale high there is literally nothing strange or peculiar about them. What was also so boring was their dance like ur telling me the """weird""" kids are dancing to dua lipa and not to bauhaus and siouxsie??? The only thing they got right was the cramps but now their song is all over tiktok so at what cost.

I wish the show had been made for actual weird kids and not ur average netflix enjoyer/tiktok user which was impossible from the start as it was a Netflix show but it could've been good if it was from a different platform and catered to the right audience.

Anyways yes the worldbuilding is so weak I swear the first three Gorillaz albums have a better storyline and are more cohesive than whatever they did on Wednesday.

Love triangles always suck sooooo bad honestly like not to be annoying but Wednesday and enid made more sense than Wednesday and any of those guys and also it's so funny bc she literally only talked to them about solving the mystery and they're both like u led me on and sent me mixed signals like what . Also they both looked the same it took me a few eps to tell them apart

What also rly annoyed me was how ugly the sets and lighting and costumes were even the first season of sabrina did it better like everything just looked so normal and boring when Burton's films used to be so visually compelling with its practical effects and strange quirky sets and costumes were always so on point and here there was literally nothing of that

The only good thing was Jenna Ortega's performance she literally carried the entire show and she would've been perfect had the show followed a completely different direction but good 4 her excited to see what she does next

Then again u can't really expect a Netflix show to do anything else but entertain but what bugs me here is that they used such an iconic goth character and just yassified her and took a lot of what made her so unique and beloved and jenna did everything she could to bring her some justice but sadly that wasnt enough with that script and basically everything else . But thats capitalism and the death of film i guess

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.4

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick au), sugar daddy au, angst, crack, fluff rating: mature words: 3.5k warnings: toxic relationships, non graphic sex a/n: u guys asked and i delivered...tag yourself i’m me saying dancer in the dark was coming first....i was wrong...this is also very sweet considering part 5 will not be :D enjoy while u can!

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

(31) Pulling a chair out for them to sit down at the table.

Jeongguk’s not a gentleman.

Everybody knows it, and he’s not ashamed of admitting it. Half of the time, he thinks that it’s what makes him unique, at least. If you (or anybody else, even though since you walked out on him that one time, he’s been seeing all the others less and less) were going to be with somebody, then you might as well just make it different. Spice it up a little bit.

“It will be nice.” Jeongguk, because he’s not a gentleman, is not really listening to you. He sits behind the steering wheel and tightens his hand against the wheel, the other is on the clutch.

“Are you listening to me?”

“No,” Jeongguk replies. He turns the corner, and the car slightly leans you to the right.

A sigh fills the car as he pauses as a set of traffic lights further down the street.

This red light drags forever, and Jeongguk sighs instead and looks at you pointedly, “What, then?”

It takes reluctance to pull your gaze away from the pigeons near the bins on the side of the road, but you do, and you look at Jeongguk. “I just think it will be really nice to grab dinner together.”

“We do that all the time,” Jeongguk says.

“Yeah, but I don’t mean us, or just us,” you affirm, “I mean, like all of us. Family, I guess.”

Jeongguk bristles. “Family? We don’t have any family, baby.”

“We do,” you moan. “I mean. Not family-family, but family. The kind of family we get to choose. Taehyung, and Eunji and whoever.”

Jeongguk nods sarcastically, “Oh. Wrong F word, Y/N, those people are called friends.”

“Oh, whatever then,” you huff, turning back towards the window. “Forget I said anything, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk wants to forget, but he doesn’t. Something about that line, about the way that it stuck with him: The kind of family we get to choose. He thought about it all night, groaned, and then swore and called Taehyung. Alright motherfucker, we’re going to dinner with Y/N so you better shut the fuck up, get a suit, and meet us at that fancy Gangnam restaurant.

So, it’s a Friday evening, and it feels like a Disney Channel crossover episode. Eunji definitely feels out of place in this restaurant, and Jeongguk acts uncomfortable about the way Taehyung sits opposite you, gauging your every move and word with overacted enthusiasm. Actually, all Jeongguk is thinking about is the moment that they got here.

“Here, honey, let me get that for you,” had appeared to be Taehyung’s favourite sentence to say to you; he used it when he opened the door for you, and again with the chair to the table. Jeongguk sat seething, almost red like a ruby. Eunji sips nervously from her glass as Taehyung laughs again at something you said.

Dinner went great, he would have to admit that.

“Oh, we booked the patio for desserts,” Taehyung says. One of Jeongguk’s other friends, Seokjin (who honestly came to observe rather than to fill in for the surprising lack of family at this family dinner) looks left and right to each person on the table and follows the crowd as they leave for the patio once the main courses are done.

Taehyung once again reaches for the door and lets you walk outside. As Jeongguk passes Taehyung at the door, he glares at Taehyung with eyes that could murder. Taehyung doesn’t waver but he does get the hint, even more so as you stroll towards the table. Before Taehyung can even move towards the table, Jeongguk curves in front and puts his hand on the back of your chair.

“Here you go, baby, let me sit next to you,” Jeongguk says, dragging it out for you to sit. You watch him with one raised eyebrow but say nothing. Taehyung says nothing for a few minutes but decides to get right back to it as the desserts begin. It pisses off Jeongguk to the point where his hand leaves fingerprints in your thigh, but you can’t find it in you to be mad about it.

(32) Wrapping a blanket around them when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show.

“You gotta stop letting yourself in here, it scares the shit out of me.”

“I own this dump.”

You gape over your shoulder, “Fucker, you own this dump that you call a dump but you gave me this dump, it’s my dump, don’t call it a dump.”

“Say dump one more time,” Jeongguk warns, shrugging off his jacket and ruffling his hair. It’s wet thanks to the torrential rain outside. His socks squelch across the floor because he left his slippers back at his place, and he’s not here often enough to have his own pair at your apartment.

The apartment is toasty and warm, the heating on high. Except the living room is chilly and dark, dark blue almost.

“What are you watching?”

Jeongguk moves towards your bedroom but can still hear you as he moves.

“Just this show I found,” you reply, watching the screen. “Dead To Me.”

“Never heard of it,” he yawns, and emerges from the room. He’s holding a heavy blanket in his arms, moving to the living room to sit next to you. He plops next to you and glances at the screen, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, over your head like a cocoon.

You laugh softly, shifting it off your head and leaning up against him. “It’s American. It’s got Velma in it.”

“Linda Cardellini?” Jeongguk asks, settling back. “She’s hot as fuck.”

“I know, that’s why I thought I’d watch it, I love her,” you say.

Jeongguk wraps an arm around your shoulder and smushes closer towards you.

“Good day?” you ask quietly.

He takes a few seconds, like he’s truly trying to think about whether he wants to answer or not.

“Okay,” he admits. “Don’t care, it’s over, I’m here, don’t wanna think about work.”

You don’t push him to talk, and instead, let him sit next to you. He likes the darkness because there’s no way you can see his discomfort, his pain, the blood under his fingernails.

(33) Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold.

Jeongguk travels for work a lot, and it’s no secret to anybody he knows. It was midday when he got a call, just a few words over the phone, and then he was moving out of the shower and into the bedroom to get ready.

He had told you to stay, stay until he got back. Unfinished business, he said, that would need dealing with when he got home. So you did, you stayed and he left, and that was that.

Jeongguk sighs and shuts the car door. Until next time, he thinks to himself as he watches the car pull away. Frowning, he straightens his blazer and walks up the steps to the complex he lives at and enters. When he gets to his apartment, he kicks his shoes off right away and as he steps inside, he notices that the apartment is unusually silent.

Normally at his home, his big mansion that he loves up in the hills, there’s some sort of noise. Maybe it’s the sound of the TV on in the kitchen, or the bubbles in the hot tub, or the sound of Elio prowling around the bedroom. This apartment is in central Seoul, closer to work and closer to school. He hates how silent it is, how empty it feels.

“Y/N?”

There is no instant reply. He moves across the apartment, searching silently.

“Babe, you here?”

Worry bubbles in his stomach and he moves in search of you. After searching everywhere, Jeongguk scoffs like it’s a sick joke that you’re not here, until he hears a noise, a croak and a cough from the spare bedroom.

“Y/N?” calls Jeongguk. He moves to the door and twists the handle, and is a few shuffles inside when a grottal, gross noise emerges from the darkness.

“What?” he asks.

“I said don’t come in here,” you croak out in reply, because it’s you, and who else would it be in his apartment?

Jeongguk enters and reaches for the light, pausing when you grunt in his direction. He can see you in the dim light of the spare bedroom, the sun outside the curtains, and he suppresses a smile.

“What happened? I said we had unfinished business.”

“I know,” you rasp. “But one of the kids in my class came to the lab with a sore throat, I thought I’d be fine. But, ta-da.” He can see in the light that there’s a plethora of tissues around your body, like a barrier. So many, snotty and probably damp and scrunched into balls. “Guess he had a cold.”

He grimaces, shuffling into the bedroom despite you telling him otherwise. It’s unsurprisingly stuffy in the room, a given since the room is closed off from the sunlight that bleeds behind the curtains. Like you requested, he doesn’t turn on the lights, keeping you safe in the darkness.

“Shitty kids,” Jeongguk grunts. Finding a lack of interest in the germs that breed in the tissues scrunched into balls, he moves them from the covers and tosses them towards the small bin next to the bedside cabinet. You sniffle, snotty and stuffed, and peer from over the duvet at him.

Jeongguk looks tired, as he always does when he gets back from work. He sports a brand new cut on his lip, one that will probably scar when it’s done showing crimson. There is blood on his shirt, and you know that it’s probably not his. That doesn’t make you feel better.

“How long you had it?” Jeongguk asks.

“Two or three days,” you estimate. He’s been gone almost a week, the seventh day being tomorrow. “Should go soon, don’t worry.”

He smiles, “Not worried. Did you get medicine, or something?”

You sniff once, the air hot in your nostrils. “Nope. I haven’t managed to leave since I came down with it. I only went to the door to collect soup and then I went back to bed in here.” Another sniff and Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise with amusement, “Didn’t want to infect your bedroom, so I came here instead. Hope that’s okay.”

“Sure, it’s okay,” he replies. “I’ll find something for you, I’ve got a bunch of shit that might help.”

“Really?”

Jeongguk nods, “Yeah. Stay put, buttercup, B-R-B.”

(34) Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped.

“Who even takes the subway anymore?”

In reply, Jeongguk gets an appalled scoff. “I’m sorry, not all of us are rich enough to have fucking chauffeurs taking us places.”

“What’re you talking about, you’re rich,” Jeongguk says, his voice kind of muffled due to the sewing needle between his teeth. He sits on the edge of his sofa, your skirt spread over his lap like a napkin at dinner. Down the leg, the seam is torn, showing what could have been an erotic amount of leg. Unfortunately, he’d only got a glimpse of your skin when you shuffled into his home.

As the CEO of ripping his clothes, Jeongguk became familiar with sewing over the years, figuring it was less expensive to sew than it was to replace. So, of course, when your skirt got torn on the subway home, Jeongguk tested his principles and dug out the sewing needle.

“No thanks to you,” you sigh. “You didn’t need to, by the way.”

“Need to what, pay you?” Jeongguk laughs, sewing the seam. “Come on, Y/N, it’s overdue.”

“True, but I don’t really need your money that much anymore.”

“Funny, since you needed it when you didn’t have it,” he sighs dramatically. “Anyway, it’s barely a dent out of my bank account, I wanna spoil you. You’re welcome.”

You frown, shuffling to the couch and throwing yourself over the back so that your head is by his legs. Jeongguk spares you a glance from the skirt and smiles, returning back to the work.

“Thanks,” you mumble. Nothing is said, but he appreciates it, even if he did it out of guilt.

(35) Running out in the middle of the night to get a food item they’re craving.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“What the fuck?”

Jeongguk shoots up from bed into a sitting position, his eyes blown wide as he stares at you. Whenever Jeongguk invites you to stay at his apartment, he always keeps a light on in the evening. His apartment is in a somewhat busier area compared to his house, which is stationed in a private neighbourhood only touched by the wealthiest of the wealthy. His apartment was supposed to be for ease, for if he had to do dirty work in the city and didn’t want to tie his name to a hotel. It wasn’t often that you stayed the night here.

In the light of the dim lamp on your side of the bed, Jeongguk can make out your face. You’re still lying down, staring up at the ceiling. After he stares long enough, you look over at him.

“Why the fuck would you say that,” he breathes, like it’s an insult.

“Wow, would it really be so bad?” you ask, curious now.

He blinks like an owl. “Obviously, dipshit.”

Sigh. “And here I was thinking it would be like the movies and you’d love me.”

“Even if I loved you, do you think I wanna have kids?” Jeongguk questions rhetorically, because he’s actually already talked to you about this. Jeongguk never wants to have children. His life is constantly on the line. There is no way he’d bring a child into the world, just for them to either be used as bait, or grow up in a world without their father. He knows how that feels.

“Fair,” you reply. “Still.”

Jeongguk shudders, it’s cold in here. “Wait, are you for real?” He shifts, the covers make a disruptive noise in the night, “what makes you think that you’re...you know…”

“I keep getting weird cravings,” you explain, like it’s the craziest science that he won’t understand. As soon as you say it, he feels almost instantly better. It’s not like cravings are the most reliable symptom of a pregnancy. Besides, you’re on the pill, and when you’re not, he’s safe. He’s not an idiot, he’s not about to accidentally ruin both of your lives with a few squirts.

“Like what?”

You shrug, “Really craving the Fairway to Heaven ice-cream.”

Jeongguk scoffs. Actually, it’s almost a tch under his breath. “Yeah, of course, you’re craving the most expensive icecream. Predictable. Cute, almost.” He pats your leg over the covers, “We all know Phish Food’s the better flavour, by the way.”

“Tell that to the cravings, sir,” you reply. You frown, then, “I’ll pick some up tomorrow. Maybe I’ll dream the cravings away…”

“As if,” Jeongguk barks, knowing you better. If he knows you at all (which he confidently does), you’ll press about this for the rest of the night until you fall asleep bored of trying. So, Jeongguk enjoys the last few seconds inside a warm bed before climbing out, switching on the light so it burns your eyes as the room fills with it.

“Ouch, too bright!”

“Pussy,” he smirks. “Bro, get your coat, we’re going out.”

“Oh yeah, at midnight?” you ask sarcastically, sitting up. “Where’re we going?”

“Ice cream,” he replies, like it’s obvious. To him it is. “That store down the road sells it and it closes at 2, so get your big coat and let’s get moving!”

“Are we seriously going to get ice cream at midnight?” you laugh, doing as he says.

“We both know you’re not gonna shut up about it if we don’t.”

Jeongguk grabs his own coat and zips it up. Nobody’s gonna care that he’s wearing PJ’s, and even if you’re sleepy and grumpy on the way there, it’s better than keeping you at the apartment alone. He’d have to be crazy to leave you here than he is going out for ice cream at midnight.

(36) Helping brush their hair after a shower.

You’re the best he’s had, really.

Jeongguk knows this, because he’s not stupid or blind or oblivious. Compared to the other girls he’s had, and the ones he left not too long ago, he knows how lucky he is to have someone like you. Someone who doesn’t just want him for the sex and the money. Although scary, it’s reassuring.

Jeongguk comes out from the kitchen to the bedroom where you’re sitting, hunched over a laptop watching a YouTube video that bores you to sleep. Your hair is damp and matted, left to dry as you watch. Fourty minutes into an hour video. Jeongguk narrows his eyebrows, wondering if he’d ever have the patience to watch something like that. Probably not. He barely has the patience when he works, and he has a job that demands it 99% of the time. When he can be hasty he is, but when his job is to kill and protect, patience is a must.

As you watch, Jeongguk moves to sit behind you and he sets his chin on your shoulder, boredly looking at the screen. Your eyes are glossed over, possibly not even watching at all. Regardless, he stays there and slowly rakes his fingers through your hair, straightening out the curls that are close to knots.

He still blames the video for you falling asleep, although it’s probably his fingers. He won’t admit it.

(37) Making sure to be quiet while they’re taking a nap.

It’s not just that. Jeongguk enjoys being gentle, but only when nobody can see him doing it. When you fall asleep, slouched over like a zombie, he smiles and gently closes the screen of your laptop. Whatever garbage your Uni have you watching can be watched tomorrow.

Until then, you must sleep. He moves the laptop away to the cabinet across the room and comes back, collecting you in his arms and moving you into the bed. Once the covers are draped across your body, he takes extra care to be quiet leaving the room and shutting the door. There’s some food leftover in the kitchen from dinner that he’ll eat before joining you, and you don’t wake up, not even when the bed dips as he climbs into it.

(38) Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.

Despite his work often demanding him to be around people, Jeongguk isn’t really a big fan of crowds. If he can get out of going out in public, he will jump at the opportunity. He just can’t see why you’re so miffed about not being with the crowds of people on the Hangang Bridge waiting for the fireworks- he’s got a balcony that looks out over the city and the river, so what’s the big deal?

“It’s all about the vibe,” you say with a slight sigh. Your arms are draped over the balcony banister, legs slowly vibrating in the bitter winter air. “As a broody killing machine, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“That stings,” Jeongguk replies, closing the door behind him as he wanders back towards you with a blanket. His eyes glaze over your face as he arrives and Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “Hold your face that way and it’ll stick.”

“Heard it all before from my Mom,” you reply boredly. A quiet thanks is spoken as you take the blanket shield and snuggle closer to his chest, staring expectantly at the black sky. “What time will they start?”

Jeongguk presses his cheek to your hair. “Considering three minutes ago it was only ten to midnight, I can safely assure you that it is not time yet.”

“I’m bored.”

“Why are you so hard to please today?” Jeongguk groans. He wriggles around, “And don’t try me with that ‘I think I’m pregnant’ bullshit. Spare me the moody bitch performance for today, please?”

You pug to yourself. “Sorry. Sorry, you’re right. And I shouldn’t be so...I don’t know. I’m sorry. Thank you for tonight.”

Jeongguk shakes his head slightly. He may never understand women.

“You really that mad over the bridge?” he asks quietly, his mouth against your head. It’s hot, and you lean back towards his minimal body warmth. “I’m sorry I didn’t pass your vibe check for tonight, but I thought it might be romantic or something for us to be up here.”

You almost laugh. “It is romantic. You’re right.”

Jeongguk brushes it off. Lately something has shifted, a comfort in the air that grants you permission to be in his life as someone more important than a ‘sugar baby’. Dare he say it, but Jeongguk actually considers you a friend. Now, you’re at the point where neither of you give much of a shit about the sugar clause you wrote yourselves into quite some time ago. An unspoken thing hangs there like Christmas mistletoe, seen but prayed away.

Distant laughter and a bang grows near the direction of Hangang bridge, and Jeongguk feels you perk in his arms. As a small warmth bursts across his chest, Jeongguk hisses in the cold and stuffs his hands up your shirt, where they curve around your body to cheekily hold both of your boobs. You jump, because his hands are freezing.

“You’re cold!” you whine. “What are you doing?”

Jeongguk shrugs, “My hands are freezing. I’m keeping them warm.”

You briefly glance down at his knuckles outlined by your jumper. “Oh yeah, because I’m sure that’s the reason why you’re literally groping my tits right now.”

“They feel warmer already,” he continues.

(39) Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favourite.

On the rare occasion that guilt consumes Jeon Jeongguk, he allows his guilt to control his feet. Usually, they end up on a pathway to the bedroom, or in the car where he drives you somewhere nice, or perhaps he picks you up from school instead of cruelly leaving you to take the subway. Now that things have shifted slightly in your dynamic, Jeongguk isn’t sure what flies as romantic anymore. He doesn’t want to leave you with the wrong impression. You’ve had the talk together, the one that touched upon what the future looked like and how quite definitely it looked as though you wouldn’t be with each other, but surely, dinner overlooking the sea in Busan isn’t too fancy or romantic, right?

“Here is your patbingsu.” The waiter circles around the table and gently lays a dish in front of you. Jeongguk carefully watches over his glass of wine as the waiter also announces his own dessert, the exact same. His eyes move down to the display set before him.

He’s never really been keen on dessert, but Jeongguk is the type of person who doesn’t enjoy the idea of one person eating when the other isn’t. So he had just ordered the same thing as you had, nice and simple, without giving it much thought.

“I love this,” you sigh happily, fiddling the metal spoon in your hand and peering up at him, “This is sick. Thank you.”

“I didn’t make it,” he replies.

You roll your eyes, spooning out some of the dessert, “you know what I mean.”

Something in the beach-fronted restaurant shifts as the sun sinks deeper into the ocean, and Jeongguk twirls his spoon anxiously whilst observing the patbingsu. He’s never been a huge fan of bingsu in general, and he looks with slight distaste at the green blob on top of what looks like cornflakes. He doesn’t get Korean desserts. Why can’t Korea be satisfied with an ice-cream sundae?

He dips his spoon into the dessert, taking a polite amount and very quickly taking a bite. For around twenty seconds, he thinks it’s okay, but the aftertaste makes his whole body shudder. Fucking hell, he really hates desserts.

After a few minutes, you finally move your attention away from the scraped clean dessert dish and take a glance over at Jeongguk, who is already watching you with a lack of interest for his own dessert.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, subtly wiping around your mouth just in case. You take in the sight of his unfinished treat, “not hungry?”

Jeongguk shrugs awkwardly, “I don’t really like bingsu.”

“Then why’d you order?” you question quietly.

“I panicked,” he replies, “you ordered it and I don’t like desserts but I didn’t want you to be eating alone.”

You pause, eyebrows quirked: “I don’t mind.”

He sighs. Of course. “Well…” He twirls the dessert dish and pushes it in your direction, “Since it’s your favourite, or whatever, you can have it.”

Your eyes light up, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” you squeal, happily taking it from him. “Thank you~”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes playfully and sits back in his chair. Whatever he didn’t eat from the dessert he instead eats up in the sight of you.

(40) Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh.

You don’t quite know how you ended up at Jeongguk’s work, but here you are. You could probably trace it back to Taehyung swinging by to get you from school since Jeongguk felt bad he couldn’t, and to be honest, you had been confused when Taehyung drove past the turning to your apartment and kept going further into the city.

Jeongguk’s workplace is pretty big, but still significantly hidden inconspicuously to avoid attention. As you slowly wander around the hallways, you begin to daydream about where Jeongguk’s office may be, what he might be doing and what he might think if he sees you.

Quietly passing through what appears to be a recreation room, filled with tired faces who blink curiously as you brush by, you finally step out into a web of hallways that connect to small rooms walled in glass. Each is empty, besides one at the very end that bustles with tense conversation, and you’re drawn to the sound of Jeongguk’s voice as it carries through the silent hallways.

You push forward, stopping not too close to the doorway so that if somebody who isn’t him happens to see you, you can make a hasty escape.

The room is filled with strange faces, strange men in tight suits and briefcases next to their feet. A man stands up beside Jeongguk at the head of the table, his hands animated as he presses on about something you’re not well read on. Hell if you know a single thing about gun models and firing ranges. You can just about tell apart Fortnite weapons and that’s only because they’ve got colours.

Jeongguk, however, is a sight that captures your gaze. For a while, he sits with his back turned to the man standing, his eyes observing each individual around the table, of who squirm under his watch. He eventually looks back at the man, his jawline sharp and his hair styled so that it only slightly falls into his eyebrows. God damn it, he looks sexy as hell; his shirt is black, cuffed, unbuttoned at the top revealing his skinny collarbones. He’s probably wearing the tight trousers too, the ones that make his ass look good.

A thought strikes you: how would he feel if he saw you outside? While it shouldn’t, the thought fills you with adrenaline. The idea of not him but somebody else seeing you, a girl dressed in white jeans and a red shirt, your coat discarded somewhere on an office chair. Would he be mad? Would he be turned on?

Would you die?

Deciding that the worse case scenario only involved you being yelled at, you decide to dip your toes into the water and tease the sharks; you wonder how long you can hold this silly face for until he finally notices you out there.

It seems like a long shot, and you’re quite close to giving up when finally Jeongguk returns his attention to the table. Heads begin to move in conversation, and Jeongguk’s gaze passes from gentleman to gentleman until they pause abruptly, locking onto you behind the glass. For a moment, he does nothing besides stare. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Then, his eyes widen, like he’s confused and alarmed and slightly impressed. Before his disturbed posture is noticed, you laugh to yourself and run away, back in the direction you tiptoed through.

(Later, Jeongguk finds you in Taehyung’s office sitting on an uncomfortable and torn armchair, a Rubix cube moving back and forwards in your hands. You’re not matching any colours. It’s going nowhere. He smiles.

“Field trip?” he questions, making your head snap up suddenly. He slides next to you on the free chair, “I’ll skin that prick alive, you know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know, but I’m here against my will!” you promise, putting the cube down. “I really wanted to go home. Dead To Me episodes don’t watch themselves, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I gotta go to a meeting again, then I’ll drive us home, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry I distracted you, by the way. I realise now I’m actually very lucky that it was you who saw me and nobody else.”

Jeongguk laughs, kissing your forehead as he rises to leave. “Yeah, well, I’m the most dangerous guy in there, so consider yourself very lucky.”)

[theflannelwizard]

Miss Simian teaches the Special Accommodations class

First off, I would like to say that I am neurodivergent, and most of these headcanons are based off my own experiences. If I do accidentally phrase something in a way that offends you, please let me know so I can fix it! Thanks to @onceuponymous to chatting with me about this before I posted it! I will also say that TAWOG is my current hyper fixation, so this might end up being a rather long post! I’ll try to use bold and italics so my fellow neurodivergent fans have an easier time reading it if they want to :)

I think Miss Simian’s class is full of the neurodivergent kids in Elmore Jr. High. This would explain why Darwin and Gumball are in the same class, despite being two years apart in age, and why they are so blind to the rest of the school. They have their routine and their class, and they are purposefully on a separate schedule than the other students. This would also explain why Gumball and Darwin are so frequently sent to the guidance counselor for their outbursts instead of to the principal.

Almost all if not all of the students in her class exhibit common symptoms of neurodivergence, including (but not limited to) having trouble communicating, hyper fixating or having special interests, masking or feeling like the world won't like, understand, or accept them if they don’t put on a persona, fidgeting or stimming, having trouble with focus, expressing emotion intensely or in unique ways, and either adhering to a strict schedule or behaving impulsively.

Let’s start with trouble communicating. This is an obvious and easy one- almost none of Gumball’s classmates communicate in a neurotypical fashion. Juke and William have extreme trouble communicating verbally, and although Juke realizes this, he keeps trying but is unable to “switch” himself to an easily understood language. William doesn’t even realize he is unheard until Gumball declares he is silent.  Banana Joe, Bobert, Sussie, and Jamie all speak in special dialects or patterns that are understandable but set them apart from what would be considered “normal.” Jamie’s is the least obvious, but I would argue that her reliance on threats, often delivered using the same formula, is a unique speech pattern that could have developed in part due to her parentage/home life and in part due to trouble communicating. Gumball has no problem with speaking in an understandable way, but he does have trouble expressing his emotions- he either locks them down or goes over the top with grand declarations and gestures. Likewise, Darwin is able to express himself rather clearly, but he canonically has trouble “learning facial expressions” and is often blind to sarcasm and manipulation, as are many of his classmates. Some students are on the end of the spectrum where they may not have trouble speaking, but they do have trouble reading social cues. For example, Molly is eager to talk to her friends, but can’t always tell whether they are engaged with her stories and doesn’t know when to stop talking. Sarah doesn’t have a clear understanding of boundaries, and neither do Tobias, Sussie, Banana Joe, Teri, Tina, Clayton, Ocho, Gumball, or Alan (despite having good intentions, he often fails to set boundaries for himself, and that’s just as important to notice as those who intrude or don’t understand boundaries for others). In fact, I would argue the entire class has, at some point, shown that they have trouble setting or anticipating healthy boundaries. Once boundaries have been clearly set, they usually are able and willing to respect them, but they can’t always tell on their own what another person is okay with.

Now for hyper fixations and special interests. I would say Teri is one of the most obvious here, with her extensive knowledge of germs and cleanliness. She’s more than just a germaphobe, she has studied hygiene and is obsessive to a point of rarely talking about anything else. Alan could likely be fixated on activism or the general concept of goodness, working overtime to make himself into the most helpful and positive person he can be. Sarah’s fangirl persona goes hand in hand with a fixation on comics, anime, and/or manga. I would even say Carrie’s intense dedication to goth/emo culture could be considered a special interest, and Leslie has a similar relationship to fashion, beauty, and the (heavily coded) LGBT community. Tobias’ obsession with video games has canonically gotten so intense that he neglected basic needs such as sleep- a classic example of hyper fixation. 

As far as masking and persona goes, many of the points I’m about to make could be seen as simple stereotyping to make the characters distinct. I choose to interpret it differently. Gumball, Penny, Tobias, Carrie, Masami, Tina, Clayton, and Ocho have all had arcs or significant moments where they were either revealed to have interests or personality traits that were in direct contrast with their outward persona or revealed to think people wouldn’t like “the real them” as much as the act they put on. For example, Penny was terrified to come out of her shell, Tina doesn’t intend to be a bully but comes off as one due to her menacing mask (for self protection, perhaps, so she doesn’t get bullied herself?), and Ocho admits he has trust issues due to being used for his uncles and not respected unless he puts on an intense and aggressive front. Other students build their identities around a single aspect of themself, either something that they find important or something that they expect will be liked or respected. Tobias, Leslie, Carrie, Alan, Jamie, Tina, Idaho, Sarah, Bobert, Banana Joe, and Masami fall easily into stereotypes and seem to be glad to do so. Clayton goes so far as to commit identity theft simply so no one will see his true self and dislike him. Clayton’s compulsive lying is also a symptom of ADHD.

I’m not going to write a whole paragraph on fidgeting/stimming and focus, because I don’t think there’s too much to analyze or dissect there, but if you go back and watch any episode, you’ll likely notice that many of the characters are easily distracted and/or have unique body movements, postures, or phrases that they tend to repeat. I also think impulsivity and routine is so important to the plot that it doesn’t need to be discussed, but was worth a brief mention.

Let’s talk about emotions! Gumball has the classic neurodivergent experience of either bottling up his emotions with no idea how to express them or going over the top with grand declarations and gestures. He feels things very intensely, as shown by his often dramatic reactions, but isn’t always sure how to process or express them. Darwin is always on one extreme of that scale, with no filter as to how he expresses and feels things. He is unafraid to cry in public, declare that something makes him feel good or bad, or say very bluntly what needs to be done to make him feel better (eg declaring he responds well to positive reinforcement- that sounds like therapist or guidance counselor language to me! Good job, Darwin! I wish I was as clear as you!). Likewise, Penny is prone to meltdowns after she breaks out of her shell, and she is so intensely emotional that she messes up her (likely well-rehearsed) cheer tryout due to being rejected by Gumball, and her physical form changes based on emotion. Banana Joe, Carrie, Masami, Sarah, arguably Anton, Carmen, Teri, Tina, Hector, and Sussie also express their intense emotions in big and obvious ways. Some examples include Masami’s meltdown in The Storm, Teri’s tendency to faint or cry, Carmen’s outburst (possibly a meltdown or breakdown) at her old school, and Tina’s tendency to use violence and anger as a first response when upset, even in “small” ways. (Note- I put small in quotes because something like being told it’s a waste of time to get piano lessons might not feel small to her, and could indeed warrant chasing and attacking Gumball.) On the other side of the scale, we have characters like Alan, Idaho, Bobert, Molly, Leslie, and Hector (again, as he behaves differently with or without his music box), who are capable of being dramatic or expressing emotion, but won’t acknowledge their feelings directly and might even be perceived as not having (many) emotions. For instance, Bobert is often referred to as not having emotions or not being a real person, a harmful stereotype against autistic folks, which is increased by the fact that he is a robot, which autistic folks are sometimes unfairly compared to. Alan is seemingly incapable of feeling negative emotions, to the point where his loss of hope wrecks Elmore, implying that he has a mental or emotional block from feeling and expressing these emotions. Molly references her “special dark place,” implying that she does get emotionally or sensorially overwhelmed, but has no way to express her needs (or lacks the confidence to do so) and would rather remove herself from a situation. Leslie is the most dramatic of the characters with emotional blocks or low emotional expression, but I would argue that since he never openly owns or discusses his emotions, (verbally or otherwise,) and instead turns to petty drama or denial, he also belongs in this category.

TL;DR: Most if not all of Miss Simian’s students exhibit classic symptoms of neurodivergence, be it autism, adhd, or both. Hopefully the many (x character) has (x diagnosis) posts I’ve seen floating around can supplement this theory! And of course, if you don’t buy this interpretation or just don’t like it, you don’t have to agree with me! But I think the idea of TAWOG having a majority neurodivergent cast is comforting, fun, and canon-compliant. :)

[jjmaybanksbaby]

enamel pins, school dances and summer movie nights

or: alternatively, i hate everybody but you

pairing: kiara carrera x rafe cameron (platonic)

warning: cursing, underage drinking, some fighting, rafe cameron being sappy because that deserves a tw of its own

word count: 7.2k words

MASTERLIST

"I’m so glad that they’re still doing this. Keep calm. Carry on," Kiara said to the boys as she stuffed the change from their tickets back into her wallet.

It would have been an understatement to say that JJ and Pope hadn’t been eager to attend the outdoor movie night hosted by the Island Club. In fact, they'd spend thirty minutes listing all the things they would rather do when Kiara proposed the idea. She'd let them grumble about going for the better part of an hour since she knew there was no way the pogues would let her go to something on Figure Eight alone. Pogues always had each other's backs, always. Kiara figured the least she could do was pay their entry fee. Plus, she knew JJ and Pope didn't exactly have extra cash laying around for movie nights.

She would have dragged all three of the boys with her but John B hadn't been back to the chateau all day. Since the cell towers were still down thanks to the hurricane, she could only guess where he was.

"Welcome to the summer movie series. All proceeds go to...." The announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers as Kiara lead the boys to an empty space in the middle of the crowd.

"Back to OBX life. You know? Aren’t you guys glad that I made you come?" She really didn't have to ask, she was already sure of their answer.

"Ecstatic," Pope responded, his tone clearly lacking enthusiasm.

"My couch was pretty comfy, I’ll be honest," JJ echoed.

"We’re out of the green zone, man," Pope leaned over, commenting to JJ, out of earshot of Kiara. She didn't know about Topper's boat and Pope wasn't really interesting in bringing her in as another accessory to the crime.

"Dude, tranquilo, okay?" JJ whispered back.

"We're in the middle of Kooklandia. This is the last place I wanted to be."

"Shut up, Pope," JJ snapped, his wide eyes with warning. This was Kiara's thing, they weren't gonna let the Shakespearesque fued between Kooks and Pogues ruin her fun.

-

"Hey, uh…can I get two Pepsis, pleases?" Kiara asked the employee currently manning the snack bar.

"Sure," he replied.

Kiara slide the money for the sodas across the counter and took the cold drinks, watching Rafe slowly approaching from out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey, Kie," Rafe said. Kie felt her pulse spike at a nickname he'd originally given her. "Hey, what’s up? How are you?"

"I’m fine," she replied, intentionally angling her body away from him, her gaze resting anywhere but on him. For someone whose presence she uses to be able to relax in, now the sight of Rafe put her on edge.

"Good, good. Um...Tell your boy that we know what he did." Rafe held her stare and Kiara couldn't stop her lip from curling up in contempt.

"Sorry, what boy are you talking about?"

"Uh, he’ll know." Rafe smiled as if this conversation was bringing him some wicked sense of pleasure.

Rafe opened his mouth as to say something else but Kiara turned away from him. "Bye," he called to her as she walked away.

"Douche," Kiara said, loud enough that she was sure he would still hear her. She threw a glance over her shoulder, feeling Rafe's eyes still watching her.

-

Kiara handed Pope a Pepsi. "Just saw Rafe, and he said, and I quote, 'Tell your boy that we know what he did.' What is that?" She finished, handing JJ the second soda.

"Um...Where is he?" JJ asked back.

"Right there." Pope and JJ's heads turned around to look with her.

"Great the whole death squad," Pope said.

JJ grabbed the top of Pope's head, knocking his snapback off as he forced it forward. "Don’t stare, bro," JJ paused. "Just warning you, bro. If they corner me, I’m coming out swinging, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Pope agreed.

"Slice and dicin’. I’m on edge right now, okay? If that doesn’t work, I got this right here." JJ held up his worn backpack.

Fucking hell, Kiara thought. He brought the gun.

"Yeah, yeah. So, we just gotta stay in the group. They can’t come get us if we’re in the group," Pope remarked.

"Like a school of fish.”

"Stay in the school. Can’t leave the school. Stay in school," Pope repeated to himself.

"I’m sorry JJ…" Kiara interrupted. "Please tell me that you did not bring a gun here. JJ, there are kids."

"No Kie! I didn’t bring the gun. Everything’s fine, okay?" JJ assured, his frantic tone betraying him.

"Oh wow, thank you. That’s really convincing. I love that JJ." Kiara looked from JJ to Pope, trying to assess what kind of trouble they’d caused now. "Founding principle, you guys. No secrets amongst Pogues. What is Rafe talking about?"

Pope leaned it, bringing his face closer to Kiara's. "Kie, it might go down tonight."

"What does that mean?" Their vagueness was making Kiara extra suspicious. "'Might go down tonight.' What did y’all do?"

The boys look at each other, neither of supplying any answers to Kiara's questioning.

"Deny, deny, deny," JJ said quietly to Pope under his breath.

The opening score of The Addams Family cracked through the weathered speakers forcing an end to the conversation. A memory popped into Kiara’s head before she had time to stop it. This was Sarah Cameron’s favorite movie. Sarah used to mouth the lines along with the actors every time they watched it together.

There were a lot of glamorous parts of being best friends with the Kook-queen Sarah Cameron. When they walked down the shiny hallways of the Kook Academy literally arm-in-arm peoples' heads turned and watched them go by. All the mean girls with their once snarky remarks were suddenly complimenting Kiara's "unique style," begging her to tell them where she bought her clothes. (In truth, most of it was actaully thrifted since that was much more eco-friendly.) Plus there was the way Sarah swiped her Daddy's black card without a second thought. Kiara’s family lived on Figure Eight, they were a part of the Island Club but they would never have the kind of east coast old money the Cameron's had.

It wasn’t something Kiara usually minded. The whole money thing. Kiara never saw herself as less than because she didn’t wear a watch that cost as much as college tuition on her wrist. But it was more than that: Kiara never really saw herself as much of a Kook to begin. She didn’t want that lifestyle. She never had. It was her parents who pushed it on her. Her mom had grown up under the crystal chandeliers and ever-watchful eyes. She’d debuted into Outer Banks high society at the age of seventeen like every Kook at that age still did. An action which Kiara scoffed at. Her mom was fully prepared to be another success story of the ring-before-spring pipeline, returning to the Outer Banks after four years of college with an MRS degree and a husband who would be balding by his early forties.

But in a Hollywood-worthy meet-cute that involved one drunk sorority girl and her vodka-induced need for pancakes, Mike Carrera stumbled into Anna's life.

Mike Carrera was the opposite of Anna in every way that counted. His whole life had been hard work and grit, fighting for the things that were rightfully his and taking them when people still refused to hand them over. He had a pipe dream of owning his own restaurant, a borderline fantasy that he was dead-set on making sure came true. Anna loved him and he loved her right back. They eloped to Vegas the week after graduation even though own Anna’s mother was halfway through planning the wedding. They bought cheap rings and a second-hand dress since they were still living paycheck to paycheck. Though the bright lights of Vegas had made the impromptu wedding seem a bit more glamorous than it really was, they both knew deep down their love was the real thing. They promised each other till death do us part and meant it.

When Anna found out she was pregnant, she talked Mike into going back to the Outer Bank. Anna swore up and down the move was only so her parents could help with the baby. They'd live on the cut, work for what they deserved and be happy. Then Anna's parents bought them a house on Figure Eight as a wedding gift and Sunday dinners at the Island club became protocol. Anna slipped back into her life as a Kook and brought Mike with her. When the restaurant turned into the tourist hot spot, the zeros in their bank accounts started growing. The Carrera's got rich but their money could never compete with the trust-fond generational wealth of their fellow Kooks.

The Outer Banks only had one elementary school. All the kids on the island were thrown together at an age where no one yet realized the lines between the haves and have nots. Fifth grade was when it got messy. Every fall the class size heading to the Kildare County Middle School dropped by half when all the Kooks transferred to St. Andrews “Kook” Academy. A breeding ground for Ivy-league-bound eighteen-year-olds who lived with the cushions of their parents' bank accounts.

Kiara begged her parents not to make her go to the Kook Academy. She would have rather died than leave her best friends, Bea and Joey, who were both Pogues and staying at KDMS. She didn't realize that middle school would rip the three of them apart. By eighth grade, Kiara had her new friends. Pope Heyward, John B. and JJ Maybank, but he still went by Junior back then. Even if they were bothered by Kiara's status as half-Kook, in the same way Bea and Joey had been, they never showed it.

Mike and Anna didn't see the need to send Kiara to St. Andrews if she didn't want to go but as high school inched closed with every year, the whispers about the Kook in public school grew louder. The summer before freshman year, her parents offered her a deal - though it was hardly a fair one in Kiara's mind. She could either stay at Kildare County High School but she'd have to work in the restaurant in her free time or she could go to St. Andrews with complete freedom for a year. Kiara knew her parents wanted her to transfer so she caved and agreed to a year at St. Andrews to make them happy. Anna prayed her daughter would find her people at St. Andrews and that one year would turn into four but Kiara knew she had already found her people and was counting down the days till she could go back to them. It was only when Sarah Cameron decided the new girl might be cool that Kiara stopped marking each passing day with a big red x.

-

There was less than a week left in their Christmas break and Kiara was seated across from Sarah at the Cameron's dining room table bent over her practice problems for Mr. Harrings' freshman science. He infamously gave out the hardest pop quiz of the year the first day back after break and Kiara's grade couldn't take her failing it.

"What’s avocado’s number?” Sarah asked, looking up from her paper, her pen frozen in midair.

“What’s what?” said Kiara, thoroughly confused at Sarah’s question.

“You know,” Sarah paused, scanning Kiara’s face for any sign of understanding. “Avogadro’s number. Some kid in my class thought the dude’s name was avocado so we’ve been calling it avocado’s number since.”

“Ah, Avogadro’s number,” Kiara repeated, shifting her papers around until she found the one with all the formulas and constants written on it. “Six point zero two two one four zero seven six times ten to the twenty-second power.”

Sarah punched the numbers into her calculator. “Thanks, babes.”

“Of course.”

Rafe’s heavy footsteps carried through the Cameron’s massive house announcing his arrival home. He strolled into the room, a thick stack of papers in one hand and a garment bag draped over the opposite arm.

“Hey loser,” Sarah said, not inspired enough by her brother's presence to look up from her work.

“Hi Rafe,” Kiara echoed. "Where you been?"

"Being Ward's errand boy. I forgot the key to his office where I was supposed to drop off this contract so he's gonna kill me for that. But," Rafe paused digging into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet pouch. "Merry late Christmas," he finished, handing the bag to Kie. "I saw it and I thought you'd like it."

Kiara reached into the pouch pulling out a small enamel pin of the earth, shaped into a heart with the word "love" in silver written over it. Kie smoothed her thumb over the cold metal.

"You know since you're gonna save the planet and everything," Rafe added.

"Thank you. I love it!" Kiara jumped up from her chair, throwing her arms around his waist wrapping him a hug.

"No problem, Kie." Rafe said.

"Hey, I'm trying to save our planet too." Sarah pipped up.

"Shut up, Sarah," Rafe cracked. "I gave you your Christmas present last week."

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him, Rafe doing the same in return.

"What are you guys working on?" Rafe asked.

"Science," Kiara replied, reaching down to grab her backpack from underneath the table.

"Is that for Mr. Harrings' class?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," Kie said, half distracting by trying to decide which spot to put her new pin in.

"I think I might still have my old test from that class if you want them.”

Sarah's head snapped up at the offer. "No way."

"Sound any more surprised, Sarah. I was offering them to Kiara anyway, snob," Rafe shot back.

"I'll share," Kie assured her best friend.

Kiara followed Rafe up the grand staircase, flopping on Rafe's bed while he searched for his old work.

"Henry Spiegel was talking about taking you to a he formal in the locker room before we left for break," Rade relied from inside his closet.

"Isn't he the freshman who made varsity lacrosse?" Kiara asked back. She contemplated the idea of going to St. Andrews' Winter Formal with him. Henry was nice enough, plus he was pretty good-looking. She could stand going with him.

"I told him if I found out he'd asked you, I'd make sure he missed the next three games because of a black eye."

"Rafe."

"What? Do you really think I'm gonna let some dweeb with half a brain who only wants to get in your pants take my little sisters to formal?"

"Who am I supposed to take?” She shot back.

“I don’t know. Not him,” Rafe said, emerging, a small stack of papers in hand.

“You know Denny asked Sarah last week.”

“I know.”

Kiara paused, “You will you take?”

Rafe shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Maybe Ashely M. Seniors don’t really go to the actual dance.”

Kie took the pages of old test for Rafe’s outstretched arm and riffled through them. His name was scribbled on the top of each one in his messy handwriting.

Her eyes drifted up to the Duke basketball poster in the corner of Rafe’s room.

“When do you hear from them?” Kie asked.

“March,” said Rafe, his voice void of emotion.

“I know you’ll get in.”

"My dad'll make sure of it.” Rafe sat down on the bed next to Kiara.

“You don’t know that.”

“I found a card addressed to Ward from the Dean of Student last week thanking him for 'the generous donation from such a valued alumni.'”

Kie's head dropped to rest on Rafe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well he’s a dick.” Rafe’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, reading the text on the screen. “I gotta go. I told the boys we’d go hit at the Club tonight.”

“Thanks again for these.” Kie held up the papers. “And for the pin," she added.

“Mr. Harrings always includes the names of the scientists from the unit as bonus questions. Don’t forget to look those up,” Rafe said as he stood up from the bed. "See you around, Kie." He placed a small protective kiss on her forehead before he headed back downstairs.

-

"JJ?" Pope slapped JJ's shin to get his attention.

"What?" JJ whispered back over the sounds of the movie.

"I gotta take a piss.”

"Hold it."

"I can’t hold it. I drank too much soda."

"It’s too exposed. They’ll totally see us."

"I gotta go," Pope pleaded. He peered behind him to see Rafe, Topper, and Kelce still parked in the same spots at the back of the crowd. "They’re blocking the bathrooms," Pope added.

JJ looked around, thinking up a Plan B. "Alright. Come here. I know where.”

"Hey, where y’all going?" Kiara asked, turning her attention away from the movie.

"We gotta wring it out," JJ responded deadpan.

"What? You gonna hold it for each other," Kiara questioned, disgusted at the thought.

JJ shrugged off the comment and lead Pope through the crowd, the two of them ducking behind a large oak tree.

Kiara turned back to the movie playing on the giant screen, leaving the boys to their own devices. Besides, they wouldn't dare start something with all the people around. They were idiots but they knew better than that.

"Crap," Kiara cursed under her breath when Rafe trailed by Topper and Kelce brushed by her, heading in the same direction Pope and JJ had went. She watched their figures disappear behind the screen before she jumped up from her seat.

JJ's gun, the thought flew her mind.

She picked up his backpack with no intention to use it but better safe than sorry. Especially when it came to those Kooks in particular.

"Hey, kick his ass, Top!" Kiara heard Rafe yell as she rounded the corner.

Kiara felt a full-fledged panic run through her body as she took in the sight. Kelce had pinned JJ's arm behind his back and was Rafe pounded his fist into JJ’s face. A foot away, Pope was barely holding off Topper. Whatever Pope and JJ had done had obviously crossed a line.

Kiara ran in without another thought, swinging JJ's backpack in front of her. "Let go of him, Topper! Fascist asshole!" She screamed at him.

Topper grabbed the bag from her, ripping it out of Kiara's hand and throwing it aside. Kiara jumped on Topper's back, desperate to distract him.

"Hey listen, Pope," Topper yelled over the sounds of the movie. "All you gotta do is accept a little personal responsibility."

"Screw you, kook," Pope spit back.

Kiara felt arms wrap around her waist, yanking her off of Topper. The too-familiar scents of Rafe's cologne filled her nose and his breath was hot on her cheek.

She kicked her legs struggling against him, "Let go of me, Rafe."

"Stay out of this, Kiara," he warned, tossing her onto the ground. His gaze fixed on her for a second before turning away. Kiara swore she saw a look of guilt flash across Rafe's face, wordlessly apologizing for tossing her away so harshly but she didn’t have time to think about that while her boys were still in trouble.

"Kie! You okay?" Pope yelled, struggling against Topper who had wrapped his arm around Pope's neck.

"Come on, man. Just admit it," Topper shouted. "Admit you did it, bitch!"

JJ's backpack had conveniently landed close to where Kiara lay. She rolled over, pushing herself onto her knees and crawling over to the backpack. She riffled through it, her hand landing on the cold mental of the gun.

"You don't mess with me, Pogue! You hear me?" Topper continued. Kiara looked up at Topper's face which showed no signs of mercy. Meanwhile, Rafe's fist smashed into JJ's face again and again. The situation was getting worse by the second. “I'm gonna give you one chance. One chance, Pope. One chance. Come on! One!"

Kiara dropped the gun back into the backpack pulling out JJ's lighter instead, two Js craved onto the surface. She had to go big to stop Rafe, Topper and Kelce. Kiara crawled over to the edge of the sheet the movie was being projected off. Fuck, this has to work.

"Finish him off, Top!" Rafe directed.

Kie flicked on the lighter, the wind blowing out the flame the first few times. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed the edge of the sheet and held the blue flame up to it. The fire lit up her face as it took hold, spreading faster than she had expected. The crowd yelped, scrambling away as the orange flames climbed toward the sky.

"Guys! Fire!" Rafe yelled, taking in the sight.

"Get off of him!" Kie pushed Topper away from Pope who fell to the ground gasping for air. "Kelce, let go of JJ!"

"Let's get out of here," Rafe started, fleeing the scene. The other Kooks not far behind him.

"You good?" Kiara asked Pope helping him off the ground. "We're okay." She assured. Her heart was racing, her hands still shaking.

"You're a freakin' idiot," Pope responded.

"I saved your ass. Come on." Kiara threw her arm around Pope's shoulder, leading him away.

The sounds of the film continued to echo over the speakers as the sheet burned to ash behind them.

-

Kiara sat slumped against the wall of the St. Andrews hallway that lead into the cafeteria. The frill of her $200 dress fanned out around her. The dress, in her opinion, had been a colossal waste of money but had Sarah actually squealed when Kiara ��walked out of the fitting room in it. Kiara had tugged at the awkward way the skirt st on her hips but Sarah wouldn’t shut up about how perfectly the blue color fit the Winter Wonderland theme so Kiara bought it. Now, the sequins itching against her collarbone were just annoying her and Kiara couldn’t help scratching at them, making the already red marks on her skin even angrier. She was so fucked. Denny had pulled out a flash during pictures and somehow it kept ending up in Kiara's hands. The whole dance thing had Kiara incredibly anxious so she kept taking sips of the flash to keep her self busy. First during pictures, then during dinner, and in the limo on the way to the school. Now the flask was lying empty on the floor next to her and her nerves were no less settled.

She longed for her pogues so much the pain of missing them made her stomach hurt. Well, that or the alcohol. At that moment, she would have given anything to be back with them. Back with Pope and his overly nervous tendencies, back with John B. and his ideas that usually lead them into trouble, back with JJ and his flirtatious banter that left her blushing a lot more than she cared to admit. They were her family, where she belonged. Not in the gated communities of Figure Eight with mansions so big they had rooms no one entered for weeks. This whole year had been a mistake. She couldn't stand the fakeness of everybody and everything that came as a side effect to bank accounts with the kind of zeros that could seriously help if the 1% gave up being so selfish. Even Sarah's save-the-sea-turtles-with-men façade was fading away revealing another rich kid who didn’t give a shit about who she hurt. 

The doors of the cafeteria swung open, the bass of the DJ's music filling the previously silent hallway. Kiara looked up to find Rafe jogging down the hall to her.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, sliding down the way to sit next to her.

"The room kept spinning and...uh...I thought I might throw up so I went to find a bathroom," Kiara answered.

"You know the bathrooms are on the other side of the school?"

Kiara giggled which turned into a little burb which made her giggle even more.

"Jesus, Kiara. How drunk are you?" Rafe picked up the flask from the ground. He could smell the alcohol on her breath without even getting closer over. “Who's is this?"

Kiara paused for a moment, trying to remember. "Denny's."

"Sarah's date, Denny?"

Kiara nodded her head.

"Fuck," Rafe muttered. "Okay, let's get you out of here before any of the chaperons see and write you up." He stood up and held out both hands to held Kiara to her feet too.

Kiara pulled herself, leaning against Rafe for stability. The doors swung open again and Rafe's date marched into the hallway.

"Ugh, thank God. There you are. This dance is so lame. C'mon, we're all going to Joey's."

"I'm not coming. I have to take my sister home. She's totally trashed."

The girl's eyes moved over Rafe's face, landing on Kiara. "No," she corrected. "You're my date. You have to come with me."

"Did you not just hear me? I'm taking my sister home," Rafe replied.

"Are you kidding me? She's not even your real sister. She's hardly even a real Kook. I bet she's just using Sarah and you for your family's money. Just look at her dress. It's the same one every other wannabe trying-to-hard freshman has on. Pathetic."

Rafe pulled Kiara closer into him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder protectively. "You can fucking leave," Rafe spit back. "I don't wanna hear you ever talk about my family like that again."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I was gonna hook up with Brandan tonight anyway. He's way hotter than you." She spun on her, stalking off in the same direction she had come.

Kiara looked up at Rafe, her bottom lip shaking as tears welled in her eyes. "Are you mad at me?" She asked.

Rafe laughed. "Of course not, Kie. Ashley can go fuck herself. Or she can go fuck Brandan. I don't really care." He wiped away the tear that had slide down Kiara's cheek. "Let's go find Sarah so I can take you both home."

-

Sarah was sitting on her date's lap back inside the cafeteria turned South Pole for the night, laughing loud enough at Denny’s shitty jokes that it was throughly annoying everyone around her.

"Get up Sarah," Rafe commanded.

Sarah surprised at Rafe's sudden presence scrambled off her date's lap. Rafe reached down and grabbed a fistful of Denny's shirt. He cocked his arm back and swung his fist straight into Denny's nose which gave a definitive crack on impact. Sarah let out a gasp and rushed forward.

"What the fuck?" She screamed at Rafe, shoving him off her date.

"You're date's an ass. Kie's completed wasted thanks to him" he said to Sarah. "Let's go. I'm taking you both home."

Sarah glanced at Kiara, who was standing slightly behind Rafe feeling both embarrassed at how much she had drank and grateful for Rafe's protectiveness.

"But I wanna go to the afterparty," Sarah protested. "She has you." Sarah's eyes locked with Kiara and Kiara's heart sank. She could tell her "best friend" wasn't about to give up the rest of her night just because she was nervous and had drunk too much.

Kiara shifted awkwardly on her feet. Sarah could have a least pretended to be conflicted, considered missing the party for a second. God, Kiara missed the unwavering faithfulness of her pogues.

Kiara tugged on Rafe's hand and he glanced over his shoulder at her. "It's fine," she slurred. She really needed out of this itchy disaster of dress as soon as possible.

"You're a really great friend," Rafe said to Sarah.

"Whatever," Sarah replied, her voice almost mimicking the way Rafe's date had said the same words. "Let's go find some ice for your nose, Denny."

-

They had found the gold. It was fifty feet down a well under an ax-murders house no less but they'd fucking found it. John B's crazy plan had worked and all they needed to do was get the gold out, a job which had effectively been delegated to Pope. Of course, first they had to wait for John B to get back from his fishing trip with Ward Cameron, some twisted form of pseudo father-son bonding. What was it with men and finishing? Couldn’t they pick a sport that didn’t actively destroy the environment?

Pope sat atop the kitchen counter, a pencil tucked behind his ear, his mouth moving as he made silent calculations. JJ stood in the doorway of the chateau, dripping water from the hot tub onto the floor. Kiara had thrown off the couch cushions and was rifling through the desk draws, slamming each one with frustration when they didn't hold what she was looking for. Kiara noticed this morning that a pin was missing from her backpack. It didn’t seem like a big deal but with every passing second her panic escalated.

“What are you looking for, bro? I swear this house is like one of those Where’s Waldo? books.” JJ asked Kiara.

“Did you just make a reference to a book, JJ?” Pope chimed in from across the room.

“Just because I chose not to read, doesn’t mean I can’t Pope,” JJ replied.

“Both of you are idiots. It’s a picture book anyway, you don't read it. Can you help me find my pin, please? It's the one I've always had on my backpack. The earth, shaped like a heart," Kie explained.

"Right," Pope replied, sliding off the counter where he was sitting. “Why do you care about it so much anyway?”

“It was a gift."

“From who?”

“From someone at the Kook Academy.”

“Sarah?”

“No.”

“You had other friends there?” JJ mocked.

Kie hesitated. “Fine, it was actually from Rafe as a Christmas present.”

JJ and Pope automatically stopped and looked up at each other.

“Bro, please tell me this isn’t the same Rafe who almost beat Pope’s face in last week."

“It’s not about Rafe. It’s about the pin,” Kie said.

“That’s from Rafe,” Pope finished.

“You guys weren’t there. You don’t get it. Whatever," she huffed. “Don’t help me find it then.”

“No, please Kie. Enlighten us," the sarcasm dripped off JJ's voice.

“I said you don’t have to help,” Kie repeated.

“Hey Kiara,” Pope said, grabbing her wrist. He was always the first to tell when something was off with her.

Kiara shrugged him off, wiping away her tears with her tshirt hem before the other pogues saw them.

“There was just this time,” she started, still overturning books like the pin might have been under there. “At a dance. This senior called me a fake Kook. She said my dress looked tacky like I was trying way too hard to fit but I would never fit in because I’d always be a fucking Pogue. Which of course I don’t wanna be a Kook, I was just playing dress-up for the year to please my parents and it’s like she saw straight through. Rafe was there. Like an older brother. Told her to go fuck herself. That if she ever talked about me like that again, he’d tell the whole she had an std.” Kie paused to wipe her runny nose. “He was basically my family so when Sarah dropped me like I was nothing I was sure that meant Rafe didn’t think I was worth his time anymore too. I never reached out to him again and now he just looks at me the same way he looks at every other Pogue.”

Pope cleared his throat, clearly mildly uncomfortable with Kiara’s sudden expression of emotion. It was an almost unspoken rule among the four of them that they didn’t talk about Kie’s kook year. It had sucked, bottom line. She’d shown back up the summer after ninth grade and it was the four of them again just like middle school. No one had the guts to ask about anything that had happened that year so it never got brought up.

JJ couldn't stop himself from remembering what Rafe had said at Midsummers. Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a Pogue. Fucking jackass. If he'd been like a brother to Kie, of course he'd know just how to hit her where it hurt.

JJ clinched his fist, wishing security hadn't pulled him away before he'd gotten a chance to swing at Rafe that night. “I still hate him,” JJ announced. “The entire Cameron family thinks they're the shit because they eat from golden spoons or something."

"The expression is born with a silver spoon in their mouth but JJ's right. All Kook’s suck," Pope added.

-

Rafe had wrestled off Kiara's heels after she almost face-planted in the school parking lot on the way to Rafe's truck thanks to them. He'd gotten up her all the back to the Cameron's house and in the front door successfully without her throwing up. Rafe tried to get Kiara to walk up the stairs but she'd sat down on the bottom declaring she would just sleep there so Rafe had delicately thrown her over his shoulder and didn't put her down until he dropped her on Sarah's bed.

Kiara closed her eye instantly and hummed softly, pleased with the comfortable spot she'd landed.

"No sleeping yet. You gotta drink some water first. Hold on."

Rafe dashed across the hall to his own room and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen from his bathroom for Kiara in the morning. He also snatched the half-drunk water off his nightstand. It wasn't the best option but it was something.

"Okay, okay. Sit up," he said to Kiara, setting the water and medicine down on the bedside table.

Kiara grumbled but pushed herself upright until her back was against the headboard.

"I'm so happy you're my big bro," she said, reaching out her hand to tousle Rafe's hair. "It's always just been my mom and dad and me. And my turtle, Leo, before I lost him." Kiara felt tears wetting her cheeks again at the thought of her lost pet. "I just thought he might wanna play in the yard but then he ran off." The crying made Kiara hiccup which made her cry even more. "He ran off, Rafe. Turles aren't supposed to be fast.”

Rafe couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I didn't peg you as a sad drunk," he said, putting a hand on Kiara's shoulder to calm her down. "It's okay, Kie. I'm sure Leo is just fine."

Her sniffles stopped momentarily and she looked up at Rafe through her tear-soaked eyelashes. “You know no one ever called me Kie before you did. Now everyone does."

Rafe chuckled. "Alright, drink some water and you can sleep."

Kiara accepted the water bottle and pressed it to her lips, taking a swig. "You promise you're not mad at me? About Ashely and the dance?"

"I promise, Kie. I'd much rather make you sure you're okay."

"You're getting soft, Rafe," Kiara teased as she snuggled herself under the sheets.

"Never," he replied, reaching over and clicking off the lamp on the bedside table before he stood up. "Hollar if you think you're gonna throw up."

"Never," Kie repeated, giggling to herself as Rafe left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

-

John B's face was plastered on wanted posters up and down the island. The entire county was looking for him, desperate to be the first to claim the twenty-five thousand dollar reward. The wholesome treasure hunt John B. has advertised to the Pogues at the beginning of the summer had gone way south, like equator-level south. None of them had eaten a decent meals in days, much less slept more than few hours. The whole thing was taking its toll but the stacks were too high for them to slip up now. They all knew the odds. John B's word would never stand against Ward's. They had to get him off the island.

JJ and Kiara pulled up the boatyard, the keys to the Phantom clutched so tightly in JJ's palm that they left little indentions. He'd emerged from his house, his jaw set and only held up the keys in response to Kiara asking how it went so she decided not to push him on it.

JJ shoved open the rusty metal door of the garage. "There she be. Hey, girl," he remarked. "1983 formula four-oh-two SR1." JJ pulled the sheet covering the boat off, the sunlight streaming in through the windows making the dust lingering in the air visible. "The Phantom," JJ announced proudly.

"Mmhm," Kie hummed.

"First boat to make the run to Bermuda in under sixteen hours, Kie," JJ paused. "Forty years old! Forty. And it's still the fastest thing that Kildare's ever seen."

"It's kind of a junker."

"Really?" JJ turned to her. "She's right there, Kie. She can hear you. Let's just put it this way. You would not be smokin' weed right now if she never existed, okay?"

"I just hope it runs," Kie replied.

"Oh, no, she'll run alright. She's faster than any of the cutters the boy in blue got."

The sounds of motorcycle engines roared from outside the garage.

"Pope. Finally," Kie exclaimed, jogging to meet him. Hopefully, the Outer Banks sun had burned off any weirdness still lingering from this morning, she prayed.

Rafe appeared from behind the boat and Kiara stopped suddenly, not expecting the sight of him.

"Hey, there. What's goin' on? JJ?" Rafe said and JJ also froze at the sound of the eldest Cameron's voice. "How you guys doin'?”

Barry whistled, announcing his own arrival. "Well, well...." The sounds of a gun cocking send the blood rushing to Kie's ears. JJ raised his hands in the air, backing up as Barry pushed the gun to his chest. "See, don't think I forgot about me and you on the side of the road. I'm here because I want my motheruckin' money."

Barry grabbed the side of JJ's face, shoving him to the ground. "JJ! JJ!" Kie screamed as Rafe pulled her back from the scene. "Rafe!" Kiara struggled against Rafe’s taller and stronger physique.

"That's what I'm here for, ain't it," Barry shouted lifting JJ's head up by his hair.

"It's not you we want, Kie. Alright, Where's John B?" Rafe asked.

"I don't know," she screamed back, her hand slapping Rafe's face on instinct.

"I really wish you didn't do that.”

"Look, I know what you did.” Kie’s voice wavered.

"What? What'd I do?" Rafe's face inched closer to hers.

"You murdered Peterkin."

Rafe's hand flew up to Kiara's throat, wrapping his fingers tight around it. Kiara's mouth fell open in a silent scream as she clawed at his hand. "Don't you ever say those fucking words again," Rafe warned.

"Rafe," Kiara pleaded. Eighteen months later and Kiara could tell Rafe didn’t have a single ounce of warmth left for her. The Rafe that had protected her from handsy freshman boys and made her drink water so her hangover wasn't as bad, the Rafe that had once held a deep sibling-like affection for her was gone, replaced by someone with pure blinding disdain for pogues of any kind.

"Understood? Do you understand? Where's John B? Where's John B?" Rafe asked again, his tone growing impatient

"I don't know," Kie yelled. Rafe’s hand was growing tighter around her throat with every word, forcing tears to her eyes. Fuck this. Rafe Cameron wasn’t about to be the thing that killed her. This rich, white asshole couldn’t get away with two murders.

"Where's John B? Huh?"

"I don't know! I don't know!"

Rafe's hand fell away from her throat suddenly. "Don't touch her," Kiara heard Pope screamed, his voice full of rage as he swung a metal pole into Rafe's back. The look on his face was something Kiara had never seen before from Pope. It sent a chill down her spine.

"Hey!" Barry yelled as he attempted to throw his gun to Rafe but it landed on the ground a few feet short.

"Kie! Kick it!" JJ hollered and the gun disappeared under the boat out of reach.

JJ picked up Barry slamming him into the boat. Pope's fist continued to connect with Rafe’s face. Again and again. Crap, he wasn’t stopping.

"Pope," Kie said. "Okay, Pope. Pope! Pope, that's good! Stop!"

JJ, having thrown Barry aside, moved to pull Pope off Rafe. "Hey, Pope! He's had enough, dude."

"He's good." Kie pleaded as Pope reached for a piece of plastic tubing, pulling it tight around Rafe's neck.

"Snap out of it, man. Snap out of it, dude!" JJ said.

"Pope!" Kie yelled again. "Pope, that's too much!"

"Stop, dude," JJ added. "Dude, cmon! Stop! Stop, dude!"

"Pope! Get off!" Kie desperately tried to make eye contact with him

"Let go! Come on!"

"Look at me!" Kie screamed in one final attempt to stop Pope from going to far. Rafe's face was already turning a concerning shade of red. If Pope crossed this line, Kiara feared there would be no coming back. She already had one fugitive to deal with, she didn’t want another.

Pope dropped the tubing, eyes wide with fear.

"Shit. Oh, shit." JJ said.

Rafe coughed from the floor, blood smeared down his chin.

"Okay, we gotta go. We gotta go." Kiara announced, hustling back the car. They had to get the boat ready for John B. They had to get him off the island. Her Pope-like organizational instincts kicked in protecting her from processing anything that had just happened. Letting her forget the look in Rafe’s eyes as his hand closed around her throat. Three o’clock at the dump. They had to stay on schedule. Three o’clock. Three o’clock. Three o’clock.

-

The single yellow heart Sarah had responded to Kiara's ‘Happy Birthday!’ text with stared back at her mockingly. She closed out of her messages, opening Instagram instead. Story after story showed the party she hadn't been invited to. A shaky video of everyone singing to Sarah, her face lit up by the glow of the candles. A bathroom selfie of all the girls who Kiara had through became her closest friends, their faces flushed red with joy. She clicked the side button of her iphone making the screen going black. Kiara couldn't stand to look at it all happening for another minute. She flopped backward on her bed opting to stare at the plain, white ceilings of her bedroom instead.

She should have been, standing by Sarah's side, smiling along with everyone in a tipsy haze of happiness, not watching it happen via Instagram. Kiara knew she wasn't doing anything productive by throwing herself a pity party but God, she was pissed. She wanted Sarah to know it too. She picked up her phone from where she'd dropped it next to her on the comforter.

The line rang twice before a voice answered the call.

“Kildare County Police, what’s the emergency?”

Kiara hesitated. Sarah was sure to figure out it was her who had ratted on the party and that would be social suicide enough. But Sarah really had brought this on herself. She should have invited to Kie to her fucking birthday.

“Hello? Anyone there?” The operator asked.

Kiara brought the phone back up to her ear. “Hi, I’d like to file a noise complaint, please. Two six six St. Margaret Street.”

“Yes, the Cameron’s house,” Kiara confirmed, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks and steading her voice as she relied the rest of the information to the operator.

Happy birthday to you, Sarah Cameron.

taglist! @surferkie

[doorbloggr]

Friday 21/5/21 - Media Recommendations #3

Its Friday again, so its time for me to tell my readers about media that I enjoyed and recommend others engage with. But this week, since the things I want to talk about share common themes, I want to theme this week around Belonging.

Finding your physical, social, or emotional place in the universe is an overarching theme in lots of storytelling. It is a universal human experience to want to belong. This week, I'm gonna skip out on recommending music and instead give you two anime and one manga that share the theme of belonging.

Contents for those who want to skip ahead:

Anime: Mob Psycho 100

Anime: Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid

Manga: Chainsaw Man

Fair warning, this is going to be a long post

Anime: Mob Psycho 100

Belonging stories are often described as tough, difficult, distressing, but rarely are they... wholesome. Mob Psycho 100, despite the name, is a very welcome change to the formula of a beaten-down person fighting the world. Sure, the world has hardships and adversaries, but it also has support networks and allies.

Mob Psycho 100 is a story about a very rattled, timid boy named Mob who has been stricken with psychic powers, but the good people in his life help push Mob to become the best version of himself. The show has a lot of subversive themes, and much like Mob himself, sends a message that we should never judge a book by its cover.

Mob's powers are strengthened by his own inner traumas and stress, and the anime will periodically update viewers on this mental state with a percentage out of 100. The higher the number, the closer Mob is to his breaking point, and when it reaches 100, Mob loses conciousness and a savage mindless version of himself fighting at full psychic force takes over. In most Shonen type anime, refining this form and pushing it to its full potential would be the end goal, but Mob is taught by his master to avoid using it. He can become a stronger person without losing control.

Reigen, the main supporting character is many people's favourite part of the series. We're introduced to him as a self righteous con artist who recruits Mob to benefit from having an actual Esper working for his exorcism business. But Reigen has a heart of gold and every action he makes is to grow Mob into an emotionally stronger person. Mob meets many other Psychics throughout the series that see the potential in Mob's power, asking him stop being nice and just go apeshit. But the first thing Reigen teaches Mob is to never use his powers against people. And he puts himself in the line of fire to uphold that value.

Mob Psycho 100 is an story about believing in yourself, and that if you look for help, it will be there, and you will grow stronger from it.

Anime: Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid

On the other end of the spectrum, what if you were a perfectly stable person, had a perfect grip on life and were always in control. But you lack company. That is the story of Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid. This anime sends a message from two different angles about how you can grow from a person with few/no flaws into a stronger form you never knew could exist if only you let others into your heart.

Kobayashi's Dragon Maid essentially has two main characters. Kobayashi was a business woman in her early 20s living alone and just generally enjoyed the solitary life. Tohru was a Dragon from another world who lived most of her life as an independent powerhouse, and mostly flew solo. When the two meet each other, they form a lasting bond that improves the both of them.

Although this anime seems mostly like a slice of life fanservice, and it is, the deeper story is about finding your place in the community, finding a home. Much of the anime focuses on Tohru, who has settled (mostly) into a human form adjusting to her voluntary role as a housemaid for Kobayashi. She comes from a world of magic and much of the way our world works is a learning process for her. Although she is a powerful magic user herself, Kobayashi tries to teach Tohru to be more humble and human. After all it is not the magic side of Tohru that Kobayashi enjoys, it is the social side, the emotional side, that endears the people around her. Tohru is brought down to Earth to become a more emotional, grounded person.

Kobayashi on the other hand, becomes more of an outgoing person as a result of caring for what eventually becomes two dragon girls. In showing the dragons how the world works, Kobayashi grows more socially confident and allows herself to express more of her quirkier side to her friends, and the dragons. The other dragon girl that moves in with her, Kanna, wishes to go to school, so Kobayashi is moved to become more motherly and socially involved in order to help Kanna achieve this.

Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid is a cute little story about finding where you belong, and who you belong with. You just have to put yourself out there and be nice.

Manga: Chainsaw Man

This is not a cute little story. Chainsaw Man is a very harsh, gruesome story about finding meaning in life. Main character Denji works in squalor as a devil hunter to make up the insurmountable debt his father left him. But when conditions force him into a situation where he is left in an even worse state, fate hands him a lifeline. After he becomes part devil himself, he is discovered by Makima, a high ranking devil hunter who works for the Public Safety Devil Hunters, and is offered a much cushier life in the big city. All it will cost him is his unwavering loyalty to Makima.

Given how rough Denji had it for most of his life, just being able to live a life of 3 meals a day, with a home and money is the ultimate dream. His allies tell him that he needs a dream, a goal, motivation, to give his life direction, but Denji believes that being allowed to live in relative freedom is the relative end goal. I say relative freedom because Makima is a cruel mistress, and her demands for allowing Denji to exist is that he become her dog.

Chainsaw Man is not all doom and gloom however. The tone manages a unique balance of absurd, deadpan humour and senseless, non-nonsense violence. The action is a spectacle, but very straightforward, no pomp and circumstance, just chainsaw goes in, blood comes out. What sets this manga apart from other gory demon hunting stories I've read/watched is the growth of characters.

Where similar themed stories would start with a character who has a goal and they grow stronger to accomplish that goal, Chainsaw Man is about finding a goal to start with. Many of the characters, not just Denji, but Power and Aki too; their arc is finding a meaning in life. Yes they fight because they have been told to, but what if they found something to fight for?

Chainsaw Man is about finding a reason to live. Instead of living in the moment because of who or what you belong to, decide what makes you want to keep living and live for that meaning.

[katiechat]

At that Moment

A fic I wrote a while ago for October- Dark Month in the Miraculous Fanworks server! Thank you for my wonderful beta reader @inkjackets for helping me and to all my friends who supported me!

This was inspired by prompts from @miraculousfanworks server! 😊

Tagging @fallsofnoir @ange-lica-3 and @swiftieanimecat in case you’re interested. Once again, please let me know if you want to be taken off the tag list! <3

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Ao3

Summary:  There was something about Marinette that transformed Adrien's world; something that always made him turn to her whenever he was down. When Luka's birthday rolls around, Adrien realizes what it is.

Warning: Post Miracle Queen. Also, fluffy angst! ;)

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If there was one thing most boyfriends didn't do, it was spend more time with their girl friends than their girlfriends .

Adrien knew it was strange. He heard the whispers running through the school; caught the curious stares every time he talked to Marinette. It made him entirely self-conscious, but somehow his best friend always managed to ease his tension. Her words were enough to help with his lingering worries, and her laughter was the perfect medicine for his aching heart.

No one else held that much power over him. Not even Kagami, the girl who’d won him over; not even Nino, the first friend he’d ever made.

Something about Marinette just felt… unique. Ever since she entered his life, he couldn’t imagine his days without her. She was the sun that lit his day and the stars that shone so bright. 

Adrien knew friendships didn't always last. He’d heard plenty of stories about close friends who slowly grew apart. Some lost contact because of the changes in their life, like a different school or new romantic relationships. Others, because of a lack of common interests. And for some, it was simply because of the toxic nature of their friendship. 

But those situations always felt far away, like a distant dream that could never touch him. Adrien took the warnings to heart, but never let them process in his head. Some part of him believed that his friendships would last his entire lifetime. How could something that bathed his world with light not live as long as the sun?

Yet things still changed: Nino and Alya started spending more time alone, resulting in Adrien always feeling like a third wheel; his relationship with Kagami grew unsteady, like a boulder just about to fall; and Marinette… transformed. Her stutter had gradually disappeared and her designs grew bolder, revealing a side of her he’d never seen before.

There was nothing  wrong with this new girl. She was just as astounding as the girl he gave the umbrella to. Her eyes still lit up his world; her laughter still brightened every room. She was more confident, more outgoing, and livelier than she was before. In a way, she reminded him of the girl he first fell in love with.

That wasn't to say he preferred the new Marinette. He loved all sides of his best friend; whether past, present, or ones he’d only caught glimpses of. She was the only person he could be himself around, the only one who truly understood him. There was something about their friendship that nothing else could compare to.

Adrien glanced down at the floor. From behind him, Nino and Alya’s voices talked animatedly, their banter as entertaining as what he shared with Ladybug. Marinette watched them from the seat beside him, a small smile on her face. 

His friends seemed so happy in these moments  , while he just wallowed in guilt. The conversation from the previous night haunted his mind, echoing the same sentence again and again.

I’m getting tired of this, Adrien.

He clenched his fists as pain ran through his heart. He  hated  the effect he had on Kagami; seeing her forced smile, the constant emptiness in her eyes, broke him more than he could say. She was hurt, suffering silently inside, and  he was the cause of it. 

She deserved better than him.

A warm hand woke him from his cold thoughts. Adrien turned to meet Marinette’s concerned gaze, her worry making her brilliant blue eyes even deeper.  

“Adrien? What’s wrong?”

He blinked before the words left his lips. “It's... about Kagami.”

Marinette’s eyes flicked to their best friends. Nino and Alya were still deep in conversation, their casual banter now a heated discussion. She sighed before tightening her hold on his shoulder.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

He turned his gaze. “I…”

Marinette moved back, taking away all his comfort with her. She didn’t look away from him, a deep understanding in her eyes. "I get it. Do you want to talk about this later? Preferably when we’re not surrounded by all our friends?” 

Adrien nodded. “Okay.”

A smile gradually spread across his friend’s lips, igniting in him a hope he didn’t feel for too long. “Let me know when.”

Adrien squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

She winked. “That's what friends are for.”

***

Adrien smiled as he studied the contact on his phone.

Marinette ❤️

Just that: Marinette. Marinette, his best friend; Marinette, his confidante; Marinette, the only person who could transform his world with one smile.

“What are you thinking about, kid?” Plagg peeked out of his shirt pocket.

Adrien glanced at the front seat. A breath escaped him as he saw Gorilla didn’t hear the little creature, his eyes focused on their surroundings.

Seemed safe enough.

“It’s about Marinette.” He couldn’t help the grin that rose to his lips.

The kwami huffed. “Marinette  again? Your thoughts are better spent on Camembert. It gives you much less trouble. Only sweet gooey goodness.”

Adrien chuckled. “Plagg, Marinette is better than cheese.”

The Gorilla’s grunt cut off Plagg’s answer. Adrien waited for the kwami to hide once again before he turned his attention to his bodyguard. The burly man motioned toward the window, and Adrien obediently turned his gaze outward. 

His nerves reemerged as he glimpsed a familiar white building. Its height set his heart to a rapid pace and its dark windows enhanced his fear. The only comfort he held was the sight of Marinette behind the glass, her movements gentle and carefree; like a dancer with the power to ignite the hope in anyone she meets.

And just like that Adrien’s worries melted away. He could suddenly feel the warmth of the sun on his skin; smell the sweet scents of baking from inside; and taste the sugary pastries waiting for him. There wasn't much certainty in his life, but there was one thing Adrien  was sure of: in a world where Marinette danced with so much happiness, nothing could ever hurt him.

He glanced back at his bodyguard. Gorilla just stared ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

“I’m going out,” he announced.

Gorilla nodded.

Adrien pressed down on the handle of his car door. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to the man who drove him all this way. “Thank you for bringing me here,” he whispered.

They locked gazes. Gorilla took in Adrien’s beaming smile, powerful confidence and utter ecstasy. The surprise on the man’s face gradually melted into adoration, and Adrien felt his heart grow lighter.

“Of course. Have a good time.”

Adrien’s grin widened. “Thank you.”

With a wave goodbye, he left the car. Once again, he set his sights on Marinette’s house and strode toward it, whistling a happy tune.

The jingling bell announced his arrival once he opened the door. Adrien’s grin widened as he took in the tiny shop, his eyes searching for the only girl he ever needed.

He froze when he saw her.

Adrien always loved the way Marinette’s hair looked outside of her pigtails. It reminded him of a waterfall cascading down her shoulders, pooling up inside his heart. She seemed so much more energetic like this, as if the troubles of the world had no effect on her. She sang, she danced, she laughed. And he just watched her, awestruck at the way her presence lit the room.

She was beautiful.

Marinette didn't notice his gaze. She continued rummaging through a cabinet, her back to him. From the noises she was making he assumed she was searching for something, but Adrien had no idea what it was. 

“One second!” she called, “I'm just…”

Marinette let out a triumphant cry as she held out a measuring cup. With renewed energy she set it on the counter, right next to a collection of baking tools and ingredients. She then turned to Adrien, and a smile bloomed on her face at the sight of him.

“Adrien!” She chuckled. “I told you to let me know when it’s you!”

Adrien blinked. His mind felt all muddled, as if he just woke up from a dream. “Sorry,” he cleared his throat. “I was just… distracted.”

Darkness reemerged as the smile disappeared from her face. “Is it about what bothered you at school? Something with Kagami?”

Marinette approached him, stopping only inches from him. Adrien backed away, ignoring the comfort of her proximity. 

He didn't know how to explain it. At that moment, Marinette’s warmth was like a fire: scorching to the touch, yet calming all the same. There was nothing to explain his instincts, yet Adrien still felt guilt gnawing at his insides.

He came here for advice about Kagami. His  girlfriend. He doubted she would be very happy with the thoughts running through his head.

Adrien shook his head. He needed a distraction.

“What are you doing?” he blurted out.

Marinette's brows furrowed, but she decided not to comment on the sudden change of topic. “Well, Luka's coming over in a few hours. He has a birthday today, and I wanted to surprise him. So… I was just about to start working on a cake.”

She motioned toward the counter. Adrien silently studied the array of items, trying to piece together which cake she had planned.

He jumped when he realized Marinette was watching him the whole time.

“It's citrus cake,” she explained. “Luka loves that sweet tangy flavor.”

Adrien nodded. For some reason, he couldn't find his words.

“I’ve also thought of using fondant, which is why I took that out too.” She pointed to a side table, where the sugary topping lay in a stack of colors. “You see, there's lots of blue, but I also managed to come up with a bit of pink and purple.”

Adrien listened attentively as Marinette dove into more explanations. The words left her mouth in barely-contained excitement, lighting her eyes with a lively glint. He watched her silently, taking in every sound that left her lips; every twitch of her mouth. 

The situation was so achingly familiar, Adrien felt his heart fill with happiness.

That was, until he realized what Luka’s birthday meant.

Marinette stopped the moment Adrien’s face changed. Her worried voice filled his mind, awakening in him something he didn't know he needed. “Adrien? Is everything okay?”

He couldn’t look at her. “I didn't know you were busy today,” Adrien choked. He knew she had other things to do, and he didn't want to ruin Marinette’s surprise with his troubles.

Her brow furrowed. “What do you…”

She gasped as the realization hit her. Before Adrien could say a word, Marinette gripped his hand and dragged him to an empty seat. Her hold was tight, her warmth like tongues of fire.

And yet Adrien didn't want her to let go.

His best friend backed away the moment she saw him seated. She narrowed her eyes at him, her gaze burning with powerful determination. “Adrien, listen to me.”

He gazed into her eyes and nodded. 

Marinette’s face softened. “I  am  busy today, and I’ve known I would be for a while.” She sighed and leaned on the table he sat at, close enough for him to smell her perfume. “But you're my friend. One of my best friends for sure. And you're just as important to me as I am to you.”

Her voice grew gentle before the final words left her mouth. “You’re not a burden, nor will you  ever be. You're a gift, Adrien, and don't ever forget that.”

Adrien froze. His mind flooded with questions, as if Marinette just unlocked a hidden door in his mind. What did she mean by “friend”? A friend you talked to only at school, like he and Nino were? A friend you shared your deepest secrets with, like Ladybug was to him? Or maybe, a friend who would take your hand and whisper all the reasons they loved you with all their heart?

He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Heck, he wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

So instead he lowered his gaze to the floor. “Thank you,” he said weakly.

“You don't have to thank me,” she replied.

But that wasn't enough. As if on instinct, Marinette headed toward Adrien, her feet leading her past the table in her path. A softness lit her eyes as she stopped inches from him, before her arms wrapped around him in a powerful hug. Adrien froze in surprise before he gradually relaxed, letting her hold encase him in a protective shield. A wild warmth melted his heart, as if there was no safer place than in her arms.

It had been so long since he’d received such a hug. 

Tears pricked Adrien’s eyes. A familiar pain reemerged, but he forced it back down. Instead, he let his arms wrap around her torso, and pulled her even closer.

Marinette didn't say a word as he leaned his head on her chest. She tightened her hold on him, bringing him even nearer to her heart. Her breaths were slow and steady, giving him all the confidence he ever needed.

A gradual smile spread across his lips. How was this girl everything he needed?

Adrien lost himself in the moment. He forgot about his worries with Kagami; about the cruel thoughts running through his head; about the instinct warning him to run. All he could think about was Marinette’s scent—perfume mixed with cookies and sugar and a tinge of sweat—and Marinette's warmth. He basked in her touch like a boy starved for love.

He never wanted her to let go, and he wasn't sure why.

Adrien didn't know how long they stayed like that. Neither seemed in a rush to let go, but eventually they forced themselves apart. 

Marinette looked at him, a pure happiness lighting up her eyes. “Help me?” 

She pointed once again at the ingredients for the cake, gazing hopefully at him.

“I-I’ve never baked a cake,” Adrien admitted. He’d never had the chance. 

She squeezed his shoulder. “I can teach you.”

A slow smile spread across Adrien’s lips. “Then of course.”

There was nothing else he could have said.

They started working on the cake slowly and gradually. He followed her instructions like the beginner he was, taking heed of her warnings and paying attention to her suggestions. A warm pride swelled inside him, lighting the world in a wonderful myriad of colors.

He felt invincible. 

It was strange for him to know the cake was for Luka. He was friendly with Marinette’s boyfriend—they both shared many interests—but something about helping with his cake felt  strange , as if it wasn't his place.

And he wasn't sure why.

“Done!” Marinette called half an hour later. She took the batter from Adrien and walked toward the oven, humming a gentle tune. “Now we wait.”

She inserted the cake before walking back. A wide smile lit her lips, one full of happiness and ecstasy. “Luka will love it. Thank you, Adrien.”

She squeezed his hand. Adrien’s pulse jumped and a strange current passed through his skin—almost as if he was just shocked with lightning.

“O-of course,” he found himself saying.

Marinette laughed. She leaned closer to him, her wonderful smell wafting toward him. “How was making your first cake?”

“It was…” Adrien searched for words. There were so many possible answers, and he didn't know what was most befitting.

But he forgot it all when he looked into her eyes.

“Wonderful.”

His friend laughed. He lost himself in the shining blue of her eyes, like the color of the clear blue sky. His heart rose to cloud nine, filling his world with the brightness only Marinette gave him.

Adrien didn't know what pulled him away from her gaze, but somehow he found his eyes trailing over Marinette’s face. He took in every inch of it, letting his mind fill with thoughts of the girl across from him. She was so beautiful, it was almost impossible to compare her with Kagami.

His thoughts evaporated as he noticed a speck of flour near her lips.

“Marinette.”

She straightened. “Hmm?”

“Y-you have something here.”

Adrien hesitantly pointed to the corresponding place near his mouth. 

She frowned. “Where?”

“Here.”

Without a second thought, Adrien cupped her cheek. Gently, he wiped the flour away, feeling his skin heat at the touch. A strange need suddenly rose inside him, forcing his eyes to drift to Marinette’s lips. He swallowed as his thoughts entered unfamiliar territories, awakening a deep longing inside him.

He hadn't felt this for so long. Not since he got over Ladybug. Not even with...

Kagami.

He froze as horror encased him in its claws. He scurried away like a frightened mouse, suddenly feeling like it was hard to breathe. What was wrong with him?

Marinette couldn't look at him either. Her cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment, her forced smile evidence of her crumbling facade. 

Adrien's heart broke. She looked so uncomfortable, and  he was the cause of it. What had he done?

“Marinette, I-I’m-”

She shook her head, a weak smile to her lips. “I-it’s fine, Adrien. I know you didn't mean it. Just think again next time, okay? That isn't something friends do with each other.”

And with a soft smile, she turned back to the oven. 

***

It didn't take long for the awkwardness to thaw. Adrien still felt horrible over the incident, but Marinette forgave him immediately.

“I know you’d never do something like that. Or think of me that way. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Marinette perked up as the oven dinged. A wide smile graced her lips before she ran to it, squealing enthusiastically.

“Let's see our masterpiece!” she laughed.

She carefully peeked inside before smirking at Adrien. “I couldn't have done it better myself. You’re a natural!”

Adrien lowered his gaze. From Marinette’s giggle, he knew she noticed his heated cheeks.

“Don't be shy! It was a group effort!” Marinette teased. “My impeccable instructions helped guide you along the right path!”

Adrien chuckled. “Right.”

He didn't know how Marinette always brought out the best in him. She gave him the courage to learn new things and expand his horizons. She was everything he needed in order to face the world.

“And our cake has risen to the occasion!” she announced, “ Muffin is batter  than it.”

She met his gaze, a mischievous twinkle to her eyes. Adrien frowned as he processed her words, before a deep, powerful laugh escaped his lips. “Did you just pun?!”

“I did!” Marinette smiled proudly. “Ever since I started dating Luka, I’ve been very sharp with my puns. Wouldn't you agree?”

Adrien shook his head. ”I…” he couldn't help the wonder in his voice. “Wow, Marinette. You're really astounding.”

“You have no idea,” she smirked. “This is only the beginning.”

She glanced at her phone before a wide smile lit her lips. “Oooh listen to this!”

She unlocked the device, and seconds later a calm melody drifted through the room. Marinette hummed along, smiling as if that music was the one key to her heart.

“It's a Kitty Section song. Luka wrote it for me. It’s…”

She paused as she sang along to the next few words. Adrien watched her silently, taking in every movement she made. She was so beautiful, like an angel from above. And yet watching her hurt .

“He kept it a secret until I had a really bad day,” Marinette uttered. “Hearing it made my whole day turn around.”

She gazed far away, as if watching the memory unfold. A dreamy smile lit her features, as if Luka was everything she could possibly need.

Adrien tore his eyes away. His heart ached, as if the music awoke a hidden pain he never knew about. It was a beautiful song, but why did hearing it hurt so much?

He should be happy to see her like this. All he wanted was for Marinette, his best friend, to smile every day. And yet Adrien still found himself wishing he was the cause of her happiness. That  he meant everything to her.

Just like she meant the world to him.

He didn't know what made him ask the question on his mind. He knew it was pointless; he knew it would only hurt, yet he still found the words leaving his lips.

“How did it feel?”

Marinette met his eyes. Adrien’s heart stopped at the pure love radiating from her. It was breathtaking, like all the good in the world united in that one look.

A strange, deep longing rose inside him, filling his thoughts with only one word.

Marinette.

Adrien knew something was wrong with him. He couldn’t possibly think so much about a girl who wasn't his girlfriend. And yet… and yet…

He couldn’t resist the voices of his heart.

“It felt…” Marinette searched for words, her voice soft and gentle, “like he just handed me all the happiness in the world. Like he was the instrument, and I was the tune. Like… nothing,  no one , could ever compare.”

She looked away, her cheeks tinged with a rosy pink. “At that moment, I realized I loved him.”

The song suddenly disappeared from his mind. Adrien stared at his friend, a strange, unfathomable pain drowning his heart. He experienced hurt before—Ladybug rejected him plenty of times—but this pain was so profound, he couldn't help himself any more.

“I feel the same,” he whispered.

Marinette’s eyes widened. She studied him, her gaze taking into account every inch of his face. “You do?”

Adrien nodded.

A strange sound left Marinette's lips. She rushed to hug him, her warmth the perfect cure to the pain in his heart.

“Does Kagami know?”

Adrien shook his head.

Marinette scanned him, her face growing even softer than before. “Are you worried she won't feel the same about you?”

He frowned. With Marinette so close, it was hard thinking coherent thoughts. “Who?”

She smiled gently. “Kagami.”

“I—”

Adrien backed away. The weight of the situation suddenly hit him, and he couldn't think. He didn't know what made him confess so thoughtlessly. He was  over Ladybug. He was dating Kagami. And yet the words still left his lips.

He didn't know what prompted them. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was how these words weren't about Kagami. Yes, he was fond of his girlfriend, but he didn't  love  her.

Then who….

He startled when a warm hand touched his arm. Adrien met shining blue eyes, so deep he felt like he could sink into them and never leave.

“It's okay,” Marinette smiled, “I know you’ve been having problems. You can tell me, Adrien.”

And he didn't even have to think as he opened his heart to her. If there was one person he knew he could trust, it was Marinette.

“I-I try to give her everything,” he said weakly, “But we’ve still drifted apart, and I don't know why. It's like… she doesn’t see it.”

Marinette squeezed his shoulder. “Your heart?”

He silently nodded.

A slow smile crept across Marinette’s mouth. Adrien felt a familiar tingling reemerge at the sight. He loved basking in her light.

“Adrien, I know Kagami, and I know you. I promise you she sees more than you think. She knows your heart isn’t yours anymore.”

She winked, before a powerful burst of laughter escaped her lips. Adrien smiled as he lost himself to the sound. It was as if it was the only music he ever needed in the world.

Somehow, her company always managed to close the gaping emptiness in his heart.

“Thank you, Marinette.”

She turned, still grinning in a beautifully wild way. “What for?”

“For…” he searched for the words to convey it all, “this.”

He motioned to the whole expanse of the room, eliciting another soft look from Marinette. “Of course.”

Just as Adrien opened his mouth, her phone rang. She ran to it, squealing, before answering the call.

“It’s Luka,” she mouthed.

Adrien forced a smile as Marinette turned to the call. She hummed as she listened to Luka’s voice, before giving a final “Okay, see you soon!”

The moment she hung up, Marinette’s calm facade disappeared. She ran to the oven and took out the cake, talking rapidly to herself.

Adrien frowned. “Marinette? What's wrong?”

“Luka’s here!” She squeaked. “Or almost here. He’s on his way here! And the cake isn’t even… ahh!”

Marinette ran to the table with the colorful fondant. She murmured to herself frantic sentences as she grabbed the sugary topping and started decorating the cake.

Adrien hesitated. “Marinette?”

“Help me!” she cried.

He laughed as he approached the table. Marinette was already deep in the decorating stage, her brow furrowed in thought.

“So how do we do this?”

“I don't know!” she screamed. “Just take a random color and make a decoration with it!”

He watched as she continued working, her hands frantic with speed. Adrien slowly imitated her, frowning in concentration.

“I don't even know if he’ll like it. It looks so boring and brown right now and  nothing will be ready by the time he comes in,” Marinette ranted. “And then Luka will hate me and think I'm the worst girlfriend ever and we’ll never have a house with a picket fence and three kids and a hamster called—”

“Marinette.”

She met his eyes.

Adrien smiled. “He’ll love it.”

“He will?”

He nodded. “I would.”

Marinette gasped, before pulling him into a hug. “Thank you, Adrien,” she said with a sniff.

Just as he was about to answer, Adrien heard an engine roar. Marinette squeaked with surprise and fright before grabbing the cake and running outside. “It's Luka!” she called.

Adrien chuckled as he followed after her. He felt so weightless in these moments, as if all he ever needed was Marinette in his life.

He froze as he saw her approach her boyfriend. She held the cake out meekly, an adorable blush to her cheeks. Luka laughed, said something, and then set the cake on the sidewalk. 

That was all the warning Adrien got before her boyfriend turned around, pulled Marinette to him, and put his lips on hers. 

Adrien's friend let out a strange high-pitched sound before she closed her eyes and melted into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around her boyfriend, smiling as if that was the only song she needed. Luka pulled her closer, leaning in so he could give her everything she deserved.

And Adrien felt the truth finally tear into him, more powerful than any kiss he’d ever shared.

‘I feel the same.’

He wasn't in love with Kagami. He wasn't in love with Ladybug.

He was in love with Marinette.

His best friend.

And the way she looked at Luka, with eyes so full of love, told Adrien the truth he’d known all along.

She will never feel the same.

[2018shawn]

love (sticky) notes

a/n: I forgot I wrote this and I'm clearing out my drafts so here we are why!!! the fuck not!!!.... here is a whole lotta y/n feeling and looking her best SELF n loving herself like we all should as strong independent women. you’re all beautiful 🥺🥰

warnings: alludes to smut, a little swearing, a little fluff, a little happy

 Tom let himself in, just like you requested, because you were both at that stage now. The stage where you weren’t exclusively each other’s, but exclusively and most definitely were not anyone else’s. It was fun; things going at their own pace, no pressure, no rules, just you and Tom being, well, you and Tom.

“Your Prince Charming has arrived!” Tom shouted, making you aware of his presence. Last thing he wanted after a shitty day doing filming was to be knocked out by you because he’d scared you shitless. He hung his back pack on the hooks you kept by the door, kicking his converse off so they landed next to your very own trusty pair. He smiled; his n hers.

You shook your head to yourself as you continued to change in your room, the door open just enough for his voice to flood through. “Okay well Prince Charming can make himself at home and there’s a beer on the table for you.”

Your shoebox apartment was small enough that you didn’t really need to shout, more so just talk loudly in order for him to hear you. He noted the ice cold Budweiser sat on the coffee table in front of your sofa, condensation dripping from the neck of the bottle. You’d left a sticky note on there, with a simple smiley face and a kiss for no particular reason at all, other than that you loved a sticky note. He slumped into the sofa - he loved your sofa more than his own, it was real cloudy (his words, not yours) - reaching over for the refreshing beverage before kicking his feet up on the table. A warm smile spread across his lips as he peeled off the sticky note. He wanted to wife you, he knew that much.

“How was your day, darling?” He asked, taking a large gulp from the drink, which indicated how his went. He fiddled with the sticky note, pressing it down onto the material of his t shirt, like when you go to the dentist as a kid or you get all your spellings right at school and get rewarded with a sticker; this time, you were his reward.

Small mumbles escaped your lips as you fiddled with your unfamiliar change of clothes in the bedroom. You couldn’t quite get the clasps right and wondered how there were women out there who wore stuff like this on a daily basis. Although you had to admit, so far, so cute. “Yeah, okay I guess. My boss was a jerk again but what’s new.”

Unbeknown to Tom, your foot rested on the bed, one at a time, as you rolled stockings up your legs, letting them snap to your thigh when they were high enough. “You need to tell him to come see me.” He replied, and you knew he was tensing his jaw.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but feel giddy and warm at the way Tom got jealous and protective over your relationships with you boss, especially when you once let it slip he asked you on a date but you politely declined. “Sure thing,” you laughed, grabbing the last item to complete your outfit, sliding it over your shoulders.

You asked him about his day, and you soon learnt that he couldn’t quite get the scene right, resulting in a hella load of retakes and okay guys, let’s take a minute moments. Glancing over the bedroom one last time before you opened the door fully, you checked everything was in order, no washing or Winnie the Pooh pyjamas laying around. A final walk past the mirror stopped you in your tracks, head snapping to face your reflection. You barely recognised yourself; the nicest underwear you’d bought or even worn in god knows how long adorned your body, colourful floral pattern contrasting against your nude skin. You think you looked nice; you felt nice, and as your mum once told you - who’s gonna love you if you ain’t gonna love yourself. Even though you were queen of putting yourself down and picking at things you didn’t like about yourself, you’d also grown to live with your imperfections. A final brush of your fingers over the light pink, mesh material smoothed out the matching kimono to your set and you swallowed a gulp.  

The door to your bedroom creaked open, and from where you stood you could see his crazy brown hair sticking up from the couch, his head leant back against the head rest. Your living room was pretty much in front of your bedroom door, the kitchen to the right and bathroom to the left. It was nothing special, but it was your little home and you loved it. The back of the sofa faced your bedroom door, Tom only aware that you were entering the room due to your quiet footsteps on the floor.

“... and I swear to god, you know like when you thought you’d be baby Jesus in the nativity but you get given the part of a tree? That was her, she wanted to be in every bloody take!” He sighed, rambling on about some girl in the scenes that was only supposed to be there as an extra.

His eyes were closed as you walked closer to him, legs spread apart and bottle resting on his leg with the support of his hand. You wanted to run straight around and straddle the living daylights out of him, but self control needed to be a thing here. Each of your hands came to his tense shoulders, your fingertips beginning to knead at his strong structure. He hummed in return, a satisfied smile creeping upon his lips, his eyes remaining shut as he enjoyed the relaxing gesture. “You’re nice.” He simply said and you watched how his Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down as he gulped.

A giggle fell from your lips as your hands loosened on his shoulders. He was about to groan at the sudden lack of touch, but was stopped when your hands flately ran from his shoulders and down to his chest. He’d been working out for the filming of the movie and you could feel it, his chest hard beneath the surface of his shirt. You laughed at the sticky note on his chest, avoiding knocking it off as he pulled a pouty face, his lips stretching out for a kiss. Hovering over the top of him, you bent your head down to place a delicate peck on him, so delicate you barely touched at all. Your hands roamed down to his torso, feeling him tense up beneath your touch as your hands ran over each pair of abs. His lips were still stifly pouting, needing a real kiss to be satisfied.

When you were happy his shoulders were less tense and his body a little more relaxed, you let your hands rest in one place. It was ironic really, that you were the one upside down, kissing him, because wasn’t that spider mans job once? Nevertheless, you continued, not entirely sure how to approach an upside down kiss but going with the same approach as normal. Your fingers grabbed at tufts of his T-shirt as your lips came into contact, his hands working their way up above and behind him to lace around the back of your neck. The sound of the billie eilish playlist was nothing but background noise as you loved on each other passionately, the sounds of your lips hard at work filling the quiet space.

He hummed into your lips as your hair fell from behind your head, gliding down and landing across his chest and neck. His face scrunched up, your brown curls tickling his sensitive area as he let a small giggle escape his lips and god, did you think it was the cutest thing in the world.

Standing upright, he pouted at your disappearance, peeking one eye open as he realised he was yet to lay his eyes on you tonight; that was usually the first thing he did. The straighter you stood up, the lower down your body his hands went. Considering he was spider man and billy Elliot, he appeared to not be all that flexible, his hands only just able to grasp the top of your arms.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows at the feel of your clothing, the mesh material feeling foreign to his touch. You stayed at each other’s houses long enough for him to know that you very much prefer a baggy t-shirt to lounge in, to which he had no objections. Mainly because a) they were normally his t-shirts and b) they almost always stopped at the top of your thighs, giving him a pleasant view for his time with you. His hands enveloped around your arms, snaking downwards until they reached your wrists and he began to fiddle with the unfamiliar sleeved embroidery. He could tell the stitching of the flowers were beautiful, but not nearly half as beautiful as you.

You admired his soft touch, watching down at him as he opened his other eye, smiling up at you. “Hey.” He smiled, flashing the movie star smile you fell for months ago. 

A soft giggle escaped your lips as you tucked the front of your hair behind your ear, “Hey.”

He was too busy staring at your face to notice your attire, but when his eyes finally travelled down to your chest, they widened. His lips parted into an o, his chest coming to a halt as his breathing stopped. The bralet you was wearing was a see through mesh, your nipples only covered by the embroidered flowers matching to the ones he’d felt on your sleeves. The pink and green colours complimented you perfectly and he was at a loss for words. He leant forward on the sofa, placing his beer own on the coffee table and you weren’t sure how he didn’t miss, because his eyes didn’t leave your body the entire time. 

Kneeling up onto the sofa, he finally faced you, hands gripping the back of the sofa. “Holy shiiiiiiiit,” he groaned, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth. His eyes began to travel further down your body, not really wanting to move away from your incredibly curved breasts, but eager to see what the rest of you had to offer. Your waist was bare and he continued to the top of your hips, where the matching, delicate suspender belt began to cover your stomach. It flowed down, past your bellybutton and ended just above the top of your thighs. Peeking out from underneath were of course the matching pants and the most unique noise left his lips, something half way between a whimper and a groan. 

He didn’t noticed how his knuckles were turning white as they gripped the sofa because he was scared if he let go, he’d pass out. You let him admire your body, knowing it wasn’t exactly the usual welcome home you’d normally give him. But when his stare started to burn into you and felt more than torturous, you had to say something. “Um... is this ok?” You looked down at yourself then back up to the love eye emoji knelt in front of you. 

“Is it - are you fucking even real?!” He finished speaking with his mouth still open, hanging down and eyes wider than ever apart from the few times he blinked hard, to see if he was imagining things. You laughed, taking it as one of the best compliments you’ve ever received. 

You started walking backwards, getting closer to your bedroom door with a suggestive smirk on your lips, “well, are you coming?” 

And that was all it took for him to climb and stumble over the back of the sofa, nearly throwing himself onto the floor in the process as he chased into your bedroom where he very, very much enjoyed the rest of his evening. 

------

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls

[themonotonysyndrome]

The Holy Quintet in Twisted Wonderland! (Dorm sorting)

Here’s the second piece of TW x PMMM crossovers! I had so much fun writing the first one and has been looking forward to writing this part. Oh, and since Homura was the first one to woke up, she gets sorted first. I apologise for the word vomit underneath. You have been warned.  

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it! (I didn’t actually expect the amazing response from you guys! To the new followers, welcome!) 

-

Akemi Homura is sorted in... 

Standing in front of the mirror with a determined expression, Homura refused to show any weakness. She subtly caress her ring, where her purple Soul Gem gleams. 

For her unyielding conviction, resourcefulness against every timeline thrown at her and long, careful planning, the Mirror of Darkness deems that she will do well in SCARABIA!

(in the background, Kalim cheer loudly for having a new and fun student in his dorm while Jamil mentally prepare himself for contingency plans in case Homura decide to aim her strange weapon against Kalim or disrupt his future goals...)

While still confused (Homura has already put away her Shield), she helps a teacher with white and black hair wake up the rest of her friends so they could be sorted as well. She can deal with the whole dorm sorting issue once this ceremony-thing is over. 

The sand and hot weather of Scarabia made her uncomfortable in the beginning and the dorm’s uniform is a bit strange looking but nonetheless, Homura adapts. It’s become a second nature to her already. 

The first thing she did after Kalim and Jamil showed her room where she will be living until the headmaster finds a way to send them back home, is to use her magic to change her standard school and dorm uniforms and hairstyle. The red ribbon now tied her long black hair into a high ponytail to combat with the heat and her dorm and school uniforms are now fitted for a female student of her size. 

(Hey, the headmaster didn’t say anything against altering the uniforms!)

Afterwards, Homura set to work immediately. She did her best to studied everything she can about Scarabia, Night Raven College, magic crystals and the world of Twisted Wonderland. She’ll be using time magic to learns as much and as quickly as possible so no one would pull a fast on her and her friends.  

To make her life a bit easier, she transforms her room to look similar to the interior of her apartment back at Mitakihara City. Foreign maps are neatly documented and shelved, important encounters and memories that she experiences at NRC are framed on white walls instead of her past battles against Witches and the shadow of the swinging, bladed pendulums serve Homura the constant reminder that she’s always running for more time. 

As a student, studying at a magical school doesn’t faze Homura for too long once she started wondering if she could use the magic in Twisted Wonderland not only to return home, but for herself as well (what she needed to get used to is living in a school wholly for boys. Once she adjusted to Kalim’s energetic and chaotic personalities - when to hide away from him - it gets easier) 

Homura has a knack for Humanities classes. History, Ancient Curses and etc. I see her as someone who often learn from trial-and-error since by the time the anime begin, she’s already breezing through her classes because she’s been repeating them all over and over again. Sometimes if her grades are unacceptable, she can be petty enough and rewind time so she could retake them. Students quickly sees her as a diligent and hard-working girl.    

As for Kalim and Jamil, now these two have different impression about Akemi Homura. 

Kalim is ecstatic. There’s a girl in his dorm! A pretty and quiet girl! Kalim wants to help Homura fully enjoy her stay in Scarabia. Her lack of response when he throws her a welcoming banquet along for the other first year students didn’t dampen his spirit, even when she vanishes in the middle of the feast. If anything, Kalim made a personal mission of his to make Homura smile. He firmly believes that Homura has a pretty smile! 

Kalim would ask a lot of questions, too. What is her world like? What was she doing before coming here? What’s the strange device she pointed at the headmaster? What kind of magic she has? As expected, Homura is pretty tight lip about herself but that’s alright. Once they become good friends, Kalim is sure that Homura would be more open up to them all.

Jamil, however, has his mistrusts and worries. The moment Homura woke up, she took control of the crowds and atmosphere as soon as she realised she’s not in her world. The way she stood protectively between them and her friends while seconds away from attacking the headmaster told Jamil that she’s dangerous. That she’s an experienced fighter. An enigma that he can’t unravel pose a potential threat to Scarabia and his plans. 

Jamil has a keen eye for observation, so he notices how Homura would glued to her pink haired friend as often as she could, but the moment she meets up with the rest of the girls, Homura would quietly slip away as if she isn’t all that close to them. That intrigues the Vice Dorm Leader. 

Jamil’s suspicion continues to increase when he later realises that Homura has a habit of vanishing in a blink of an eye. One moment she would be standing near the door after History class and in a blink, she disappears into thin air. Not only that, sometimes he would catch a glimpse of her walking at another hallway across the courtyard, but only to appear behind him when he turns around. It unnerved Jamil. Does it have something to do with her magic?

However, as the semesters roll by and Kalim actually managed to have the mysterious raven beauty to hang out with them for more than 10 minutes (“How strange, Al-Asim-san. You remind me of Madoka sometimes”), Jamil understands that there’s more to her that Homura lets on. As if she’s shouldering the whole world on her shoulders. In the end, Jamil will not use Snake Whisper on her since he’s unsure if the girl has the ability to cancel it and lets her be. Perhaps she needs more time for Kalim’s bright charms to tear down the imposing walls she hides behind? Jamil is patient. 

For Homura, she feels relax around Kalim after how well he and Madoka befriended one another. It helps that Kalim doesn’t hold it against her when she slips away from his way too extravagant parties. Jamil is as shady as they come underneath his hard working demeanour, but seeing the amount of trust Kalim puts on him, Homura refrain from antagonising the Vice Dorm Leader. She even helps them out preparing for a feast or banquet if they asked. 

Kalim earns a soft spot in Homura’s heart after a fateful night. Unable to sleep, he caught her strolling through Scarabia looking at the many tapestries hanging on the walls. He kept her company (even when it’s unwarranted), teaching her how to play Mancala and ply her with refreshing mint teas and sweets such as Maamoul and any other he could find from the pantry, until Homura is ready to retire back to her bedroom. Kalim might be the one who does the most talking in their conversation but the Magical Girl actually prefers it. She humours him by answering a few questions and the two understand one another a little better after that night.  

All in all, the Mirror of Darkness was correct. She truly fits in Scarabia and her other dorm mates hardly bats an eye when she asked around for information, books and other materials. Even questioning them about their Unique Magics and magic crystals.

(The only gold she accepts from Kalim is a simple thin necklace to represent her as a student of Scarabia. She can’t understand how students could wear heavy jewellery to school. Especially those chunky gold band around their neck.)     

Sakura Kyouko is sorted in...        

The moment Kyouko woke up with strange people looking at her and an unsettled Homura, she is raring to fight. Her spear is in her hand again and would have thrown it at the first person she sees (coincidentally, a young man with a scar on his face and... is that a tail!? Kitty ears!?) if it weren’t for Homura stopping her, urging her to listen. 

After a brief rundown of their situation, it’s her turn to be called and sorted by the Mirror of Darkness. Despite how weird things are, she goes with the flow. Steps confident and sure of herself. 

For her fiery spirit, stubbornness and love for a good fight yet compassion when needs be, the Mirror of Darkness deems that she will do well in SAVANACLAW! 

(Somewhere in the background, Leona grumbles how he would need to keep an eye on this redhead and that’s not just because she’s a girl. Her reaction when she woke up tells him that she’s gonna be a handful. Ruggie wondered how Kyouko would mingle among the strong beastmen in their dorm. Something tells him that red spear isn’t for show.)

Savanaclaw as a dorm doesn’t really bothered Kyouko at all. After all, she’s used to jumping from one place to another, never really having a permanent home after the deceased of her family. Beside, at least she didn’t have to pay for the uniforms or her new living space! (Kyouko digs the open space design of her room, she can just jump out and in through the window anytime she wants)

Like Homura, she uses her magic to transform her uniforms; from pants to skirts, ignoring Ruggie’s warning about how some guys would try to take advantage of that (she didn’t changed her dorm uniform since she perfers fighting in a pair of pants). Kyouko just laugh and promises that she can beat them up if anyone tries anything. 

Now, as a student, Kyouko struggles a bit. She never really attend school back at Mitakihara City so like Leona, she sometimes skip classes. Only Mami could drag her back if the blonde catches her. Kyouko favourite go-to place to skip classes are the rooftop of the college after raiding the kitchen from the cafeteria. 

Kyouko’s favourite classes are sports. Flying on brooms are wicked cool and now she’s thinking on how to fly on her spears as well!

Leona and Ruggie finds Kyouko to be a pleasant surprise. Her laziness and tendency to skip classes reminded Ruggie of Leona and combined with her tendency to not poke around if it isn’t her business, Leona warms up to her quickly. His previous misgivings already gone. He even offers her a place to nap at the botanical garden if she wants. 

Jack would sometimes keep an eye out for her in case the other students of their dorm become too rowdy, but after seeing how she knocked out a group of second year students with a simple twirl of her spear and she mocks them for being too weak to even landed a hit on her (even with using their magic), Jack and her become sparring buddies. He helps her out with hand-to-hand combat while Kyouko push him to his limit.     

Even though they’re the same age, Jack treats Kyouko like his siblings and despite what happened to her family, she accepts his treatment in good nature. It helps that he didn’t forced her to spill her guts out to him.

When Kyouko hangs out with Jack, Leona and Ruggie, she tells them of her world and the existence of Magical Girls and Witches. The boys are fascinated at the idea of girls in pretty dresses fight evil and how strong Kyouko’s friends must be. Leona is looking forward to the next Magishift Tournament. Maybe now Savanaclaw will win against Diasomnia with Kyouko backing them up! 

All in all, finding herself in this world and living here at Night Raven College doesn’t seem too bad. She just needs to watch out the amount of magic she uses since there're no Witches to kill for Grief Seeds. She’s well stocked, but now she has to practised some restrain.

(Kyouko earn the respect of the students in the dorm when she easily keeps up with the best of the best when it comes to eating. Her huge appetite had Jack and Ruggie’s mouth gaping. Leona keeps his plate away from her in case she tries to snatch them.)  

 Miki Sayaka is sorted in...      

Sayaka is the third one to wake up after Kyouko. At first, she figured her eyes are playing tricks on her when she saw people in strange dark robes and Kyouko is being her usual temperamental self with a sullen Homura trying to talk things out (which is odd of her since Homura would just vanish if the situation isn’t in her favour but noticing how Madoka is unconscious, it didn’t take long for Sayaka to put 2 and 2 together)

The Mirror of Darkness call forth for Sayaka. She couldn’t help but shiver at how creepy the mirror is but she did so after Kyouko promise that despite its name, the mirror’s magic isn’t anything like a Witch’s.

For her kindness, strong sense of justice and heroic nature as a Magical girl, the Mirror of Darkness deems that she will do well in HEARTSLABYUL!

Trey and Riddle approach her easily unlike Jamil’s warriness with Homura and Leona’s reluctance with Kyouko. It helps that Sayaka didn’t try to attack anyone as soon as he woken up. 

The only boy she really interacts with was Kyousuke so Sayaka is a little awkward around them at first. She appreciates Trey’s patience guidance while the seniors of the dorm helps her to settle in. The many rules of Heartslabyul fly over her head when Riddle explained them to her but Trey and Cater assured her as long as she behave herself, they shouldn’t be a problem.  

Finding out that she and her friends had transported to a new world has Sayaka feel like a kid at an amusement park. The magic here is nothing like she’s ever seen! Plus, no Witches! 

Although she would like it if all her friends could be with her in the same dorm, Trey and Cater comforted Sayaka that her friends would be looked after. 

As a student at NRC, she and Madoka were already average students with poor grades back home and being a student here in a magical school is no different. Not to mention all new magical classes that had her dizzy. I can see her having to take remedial classes so she could keep up with her classmates.

Ace and Deuce would immediately saddled up to Sayaka, wanting to know all about her and her world. Deuce would be in awe, eyes sparkling when Sayaka transform into her Magical girl outfit, brandishing her sword like a knight. Ace eagerly wanted to see her in action but Riddle is quick to remind them of the rules. No fighting in the dorm! 

Sayaka struggles to follow and memorised every single rules of Heartslabyul. This made her and Riddle unable to see eye to eye. Like Alice, Sayaka questioned every single rules and find how Riddle governs the dorm unacceptable. It’s unfair and she announced that she’s a Magical Girl of justice, fighting for the weak. 

When Riddle overblots, it scares Sayaka. It’s like Riddle and his corrupted form trying to exist at the same time. But she can sense that his corrupted magic is nothing like a Witch. After all, there’s no Labryinth, Familiars or Grief Seed and he could be transform back. So with Ace and Deuce beside her, Sayaka brought Riddle back with very minimum damage to their surrounding and no one actually got hurt! 

After the fight, Trey and Cater noted how powerful her magic is compared to Riddle’s, even in his Overblot form. This gives them a new perspective of Sayaka; despite how cute and friendly she is, she’s actually quite strong. Truly like a knight. 

Through Sayaka, Ace and Deuce are introduced to Madoka and the rest. The two boys easily become friends with them (except for Homura) and if Sayaka is not with Kyouko or Madoka, she would always be seen with Ace and Deuce, trying to study or goofing around the college. 

Like Kyouko, Sayaka is open to share her magic with her dorm members; answering any questions they had. They compared magic crystal to her Soul Gem and their Unique Magic with her regenerative and healing abilities. 

When it comes to Heartslabyul’s parties, Sayaka absolutely enjoyed them (reminding herself to invite Mami next time. She would fall in love with Trey’s sweets! Maybe they even bake together!). She always’ the one helping out Trey in the kitchen, paiting white roses red with Cater and setting up the furnitures with Ace and Deuce. For an easier time tending the rose maze, Sayaka uses her magic to conjure and manipulate water to watered the plants and flowers with a wave of her sword.      

After the whole Overblot incident, Riddle allows her to transform her school and dorm uniforms using her magic for a more feminine style when Sayaka mentioned that she wants to wear their dorm uniform with a skirt since it look super cute. 

Don’t worry, Ace and Deuce won’t let anyone harass their Heartslabyul Knight! 

Tomoe Mami is sorted in...    

Waking up in the Hall of Mirrors after Homura, Kyouko and Sayaka next, Mami is instantly on guard and reach for her magic (though she didn’t summon her muskets or ribbons). She’s ready to defend herself and her friends if these people meant them harm. 

But after a brief explaination from Homura, she adjust herself accordingly and approach the Mirror of Darkness when prompted. She could maintain her strong front because of the other girls with her.   

For her ladylike behaviour, appreciation for justice and beauty as well as powerful magic, the Mirror of Darkness deems that she will do well in POMEFIORE!  

The moment Vil and Rook introduce themselves to Mami, she curtsey and greets them politely. Earning an instant point with them.

Vil absolutely adores Mami, fight me on this. She takes all her lessons with perfect grace and is discipline when it comes to her beauty regiment as well as her Magical Girl training. He immediately takes her under his wing alongside Epel. This is not a little potato, no. This is a gem and Vil believes that he can polish her to shine even brighter! 

Mami enjoys discusing about fashion over teas and cakes and allows Vil to dress her up since it’s fun; they appreciate each other company. She’s also very grateful for his tips on styling her hair and mantaining their shinning locks. Expect Mami to show up a lot in Vil’s Magicam posts, making her a mini online celebrity. 

When it come to uniforms, Mami didn’t even have to use her magic. You can bet Vil is going to make the perfect school and dorm uniforms for Pomefiore’s new Golden Princess!

As a student at NRC, Mami has a good grasp on the common subjects and are good in History of Magic. She’s average when it comes to Alchemy since the ingredients and processes aren’t exactly familiar to her but she does her best to keep up.  

Vil thanked the Queen that Mami is a deligent student! She doesn’t skip any of them, help teache her friends on subjects they’re struggling with and her grades are above average. Behind his back he Pomefiore boys always fight against one another just to be her Alchemy partner.  

The boys of Pomefiore could only gape when she dances with her many ribbons during their lessons in the studio. Elegant and nimble, Vil instruct her to better herself further since she oozes potentials. His voice strict but Mami takes it as advices on how to fight better in the future.  

Mami and Vil gradually share a sort of kinship when she explains that as the more experienced Magical Girl and a veteran when it comes to hunting Witches, she acts as a mentor to Sayaka and Madoka and always did her best to keep them safe whenever they’re in a battle. Vil reply that as a dorm leader, it’s his duty to make his potatoes shine like diamonds so he understands her. One quiet night just before she retires for her room, Vil quietly told her that she doesn’t have to keep a strong front when it’s just the two of them. As her senior, it’s his honor to look after her. Deeply touched, she accepts his offer.  

Despite having no Witches in Twisted Wonderland, Mami continue to keep herself in top shape in terms of magic and fighting abilities. Once Rook learns that Mami is an excellent fighter with a damn good marksmanship, the blond hurried to bring her to the archery field. The two had fun all afternoon shooting targets. Rook with his bow and arrow and Mami with her many muskets and rifles. Mami also explains her fireams to a curious Rook when he commented that it look similar to Homura’s weapon during the sorting ceremony. Though she demurely declines at Rook’s offer of hunting and stalking the Savanaclaw students.  

It was difficult at first for Mami to bond with Epel. Seeing how thoroughly charmed Vil and Rook are with her, Epel figured that he had nothing in common with Mami. Beside, she’s a good scapegoat for Epel during one of Vil’s fit about beauty and grace. That is, until he caught her sparring and teaching Sayaka how to fight one day. Just like how she uphold herself, Mami’s fighting style is precised, disciplined and focused. 

Once the girls finish their spar, Epel hurried over to ask Mami to teach him how to be strong. A challenge that Mami is willing to take on. Vil is reluctant to let Mami teach Epel at first but after witnessing how beautiful she moves with her firearms and ribbons, he’s conviced that Mami won’t teach the first year boy to fight like a brute at least. So go ahead! 

Mami also helps Homura out in researching alongside the headmaster on a way home; both of them share a suspicion about the masked man. Despite their cold relationship, Mami made it clear that they’re in a strange world and that they need to work together. Fortunately, Homura shares the same sentiment and together, they’re an unstoppable team. 

(When the boys witness Mami transform into her Magical Girl outfit, Vil already whips out his drawing book, sktching furiously on how he can improve her outfit and makes it even more fabulous. Rook compliments on her style and praticality while Epel noted how Mami is really like a princess.)       

Kaname Madoka is sorted in...    

The last one to wake up is Madoka. With her friends assuring her that although they’re in a different world, they’re safe and that this is a magical school. 

With hesitant steps, Madoka approach the Mirror of Darkness and muster up the courage to face it when she is called. 

For her gentleness, level-headed and kind nature along with powerful magical powers within her, the Mirror of Darkness deems that she will do well in DIASOMNIA!  

The crowd of students couldn’t believe that such a fragile and timid looking girl was sorted into the magically strongest dorm in Night Raven College! Their murmurs made Madoka even more nervous. Sayaka is quick to calm her down and Homura is glaring at the students as if trying to burn them with just a stare. 

Since Malleus is not present during the ceremony, Lilia approaches her. Madoka is clearly taken aback when a little Gothic boy introduces himself as her Vice Dorm Leader and despite the uncertainty of their situation, Madoka found herself at ease at Lilia’s friendly smile and welcoming words. 

To Lilia, Madoka is very adorable and her gentle and naive personalities makes her precious. Her bright pink aura might clash with the brooding aspect of Diasomnia but it’s so refreshing to see someone so different living in their dorm from now on! 

(Lilia always wanted a daughter to love and raised! Don’t get him wrong, he absolutely cherish Silver and Malleus but with a daughter, he can dress her up cutely, pick flowers in the forest and so much more!)

Lilia would need to coax Madoka for sometime until the girl could finally relax around them. Sebek’s loud voices and Silver’s seemingly apathetic demeanour might scared her off at first, but Lilia is genuinely surprise when Madoka actually understand their true personalities. From that point onwards, Lilia wondered what kind of power does she possess. 

As a student at NRC, she needs to work extra hard alongside Sayaka to keep up with the rest. She still struggles with the common and basic subjects like maths so she often joined Ace, Deuce and Sayaka’s study session, guided either by Trey, Mami or Lilia.  

Silver helps her out in anyway he could; be it with classes, showing her around the college, explaining to her about the magic in Twisted Wonderland and etc. In return, she would help shake him awake for his next class if she stumble upon him sleeping outside.  

Malleus encountered Madoka while strolling out late at night. When she couldn’t sleep, Madoka steps out to practise her magic in the woods. Malleus happened to pick up an unfamiliar magic lingering in the air; pure, innocent and everything that is good in the world. Such a contrast to his own dark magic. Madoka surprises Malleus by approaching him first when he found her, inquiring if he’s alright and if he needed help. When asked if she’s not put off by his intimadiating presence, Madoka innocently blink and asked what presence? To her, Malleus doesn’t feel scary at all! 

Now thoroughly intrigue by this pink fairy-like girl, the two strike an odd friendship. Malleus enjoys her optimistic and bright outlook in life and in return, the Fae prince advised in when to be cautious, how to understand her magic better and how to be more confident in herself. The two often converse quietly late at night outside of Diasomnia. 

Sebek, at first, finds her naive attitude troublesome. It’s just asking to be taken adventage off, but since her friends are constantly flanking her side, he assumed that it’s alright to leave her be. That is, until he found Madoka shrinking into herself when a few Octavinelle cornered her after class, asking her to show them her so-called powerful magic. He steps in to tell them off, blushed and promptly look away when Madoka sweetly convey her gratitude. 

She and Sebek became pleasant acquaintance after that. Madoka never failed to greet him good morning every day and even help him out searching for Malleus from time to time. 

Like the rest of the student body, Malleus, Lilia, Silver and Sebek has so many questioned regarding Madoka as a person and her magic. Madoka presented her Soul Gem to them and transformed. 

Lilia went absolutely nuts! He coos on how absolutely adorable Madoka is in all her frills, pink and white dress and cute high-heels. Her bow even has pink flowers on it! Madoka had to duck shyly when Lilia compare her to spring fairies. Malleus had to agree with him. Silver, who has been taught by Lilia to never judge someone by their appearance, wondered if Madoka’s enemies often underestimate her because of gentle personality. Sebek wanted to know how good with the bow Madoka is. Maybe she could give that hunter from Pomefiore a run for his money?

When Madoka tells them of her world and Witches, they applaud her for her courage to stand up against her enemies despite how scary they are. The concept of Soul Gems intrigue Lilia. Compare to magic crystals, Soul Gems sounded a lot more powerful and dangerous. But since Madoka doesn’t know a lot about it, Lilia steps back. 

The Diasomnia group noticed Homura’s strange relationship with Madoka. How protective she is of their Pink Fairy (oh, Malleus definitely noticed how she would always watch them warily when Madoka is with them) but yet, brush her off coldly when Madoka offered to hang out with her and her friends. The other girls are also a little bit unsure how to really treat Homura. 

Lilia wants to really show off Madoka’s cuteness in their colour so together, they create a female version of their school and dorm uniforms with magic. Green and black aren’t something she would choose for herself but they assured her that she look cute nonetheless (lol, Madoka as a pink haired Goth. Pastel Goth Madoka?)

All in all, the Diasomnia boys treated her like their very own little sister and with their guidance, Madoka slowly bloom and grow day by day. 

-

That’s all the girls! I have an idea how to have the rest of the dorms react to the Holy Quintet in a separate post. Apologies at how long this post is. I just let myself run wild with this crossover!          

I see each of the girls magical transformation to follow Magia Record. For easy reference, here:

[dulce-deleche]

Adjusting, Finding Comfort, and Making New Discoveries

I stepped foot in this grand city at the mere age of seven years old. Being only but a child, I didn’t really comprehend why I was moving to an entirely different country. All I knew was that I had family here and so to me, that was reason enough as to why my parents had chosen for us to move. However, as I’ve grown older I’ve discovered that while that could have been part of the reason, the real purpose of our moving was to provide my sister and I with better opportunities. This was so that we could have better futures than the ones predestined to our parents who weren’t lucky enough to have all of the resources that have been provided to us now. 

To my parents, my sister’s and I’s education has always been a priority. As you know, a good education is the key to a successful life/future, at least that is what most parents drill into their children's minds. But, when you arrive in a country where you do not speak the language or know the customs, it’s a bit difficult to learn. First and foremost, I had to get a grasp on the language, which came to me surprisingly easily. But, it took a lot of effort and concentration on my part. I recall staying after school for the majority of my first school year in order to receive extra help. It had first started out with learning the sounds of each letter and then we progressed to reading books, which would always be below the level of the other students’ in the class because I was still only learning English. It only took a little over a year for me to fully comprehend the English language, although there were always cases where I didn’t understand a certain word or phrase. I believe that I was able to absorb it more quickly though, because I was still so young and children, as we know, are fast learners.

Looking back at it now, I also think that if it hadn’t been for the support of my third grade teacher, which was the grade I had started attending school here, my capacity to learn English so efficiently would not have been possible. I’m not only thankful to her for that reason, but also for introducing me to various books, which triggered my now immense and utter love for reading. I still even own a book that she gifted to me about 11 years ago!

However, things were not always easy, there were many hardships that I still had to endure after moving here. The truth is that even though learning English wasn’t as much of a struggle as I had initially thought it would be, there were other aspects of life in New York that were not as straightforward to deal with. For example, the concept of “fitting in” has always been one I’ve struggled with. I’m not sure if it’s because of the cultural differences, my lack of social skills, or both. The point is that for a long time, I felt a bit alienized among my classmates. It was hard to make one friend let alone two, so while I was a good student, I remained with an unshakable sense of lonesomeness. This persisted throughout elementary and especially middle school, where even though I excelled academically, I was miserable.

I found great comfort in art. It’s one of those things that I instantly fell in love with the moment I discovered it. It didn’t matter if it was drawing or creating collages with cut up images from magazines, I always managed to lose myself in it almost entirely. I remember taking an art class in the seventh grade and enjoying being able to use my (although limited) artistic abilities to bring my, often idiosyncratic, ideas into fruition. Art was not only something I experienced in school but something that I also experienced throughout my neighborhood as well, where there is graffiti art in almost every street. I always tried deciphering the written words or attempting to make sense of the more whimsical illustrations. It was fun and served me as a distraction from school bullies and my lack of friends.

Moreover, I have discovered that, for me, a life without art would be an immensely dull and melancholic one. I feel that, one way or another, we all benefit from the art around us, (whether we choose to recognize it or not). From the art we see in museums, that is always greatly appreciated by the masses, to the art we witness around our neighborhoods, which we do not always take into account and tend to overlook. This art deserves a lot more appreciation and recognition than we give it. It does not only shape our neighborhoods, but has the power to give them a sense of personality and uniqueness that sets them apart from any other place. Graffiti in particular is an art form that carries a bad reputation and in turn, not a lot of recognition. Here in New York City, we see it all around us and yet many of us are guilty of brushing it off or frowning upon it, which is rather unfortunate since many talented artists spend a great deal of time creating them. I have always found it appealing that we are able to enjoy this type of art without having to go far or pay any sum of money to view it and yet, it is definitely an advantage that we take for granted. Additionally, the art in our neighborhoods is oftentimes inspired from our very own cultures and is meant to further emphasize them. It’s always nice to walk outside and see either a well known latin figure or something pertaining to my culture, in the streets of my community. It just goes to show that we are seen and that we are not alone. A world without any type of art, is definitely not one which I would find appealing. To me, art will always be something that will bring me vast amounts of both joy and comfort.

Here I’ve included some cool art I saw around or near my neighborhood while taking a walk last week:

Photographs taken by me April 28th, 2021

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! Chapter 4

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 4 “Shifting Sand Land” out now!

AO3 Link

Illumi had always feared that one day he might inherit any of his mother's illnesses. It wasn't out of the question, and he considered himself lucky that no ailment had reared its head so far into his life.

"Do I look as good as how I feel, darling?"

Until now.

Suddenly it felt like years of sickness had caught up with him, spun his head around and made his stomach curl.

It was a coincidence that this sickness would appear the second he laid eyes on Hisoka, wearing the suit that was fitted just for him.

It was a coincidence that he looked like all those marble statues in museums, sculpted in the image of gods and lovers.

It was a coincidence that this sickness could be swallowed and repressed like any measly feeling he had ever encountered.

"I told you to wear a shirt, maggot."

And the symptoms disappeared.

But the disease didn't.

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

Gon: Killua?

It had been quite a while since Killua had responded to any of Gons messages. Well, it had been about 2 hours. But compared to their normal pace of slinging messages at each other any passing minute, this felt like an eternity to the young boy.  He wondered if he had done anything to upset his friend, though their last conversation was just usual banter about breakfast, snacks, and the new battle pass.

He fidgeted in his seat a bit more, the classwork Aunt Mito had supplied him with almost entirely forgotten. The now broken routine made his bones itch, but the attempt of any distraction just made him fear he'd miss when Killua would finally come back.

So, he waited.

He even started half-heartedly filling out the math quiz that had been taunting him from the corner of the desk, though he always glanced back at the computer screen.

Question number 27: (X-3)²-25= 0

Ping

Gon wasn't sure what to do first; Be thankful that finally Killua replied or be thankful that he found an escape from this hell called math.

Kil: Yo.

GON: Hey!!! Are you okay? :O

Kil: Yeah, whats up?

He was obviously not okay. But Gon knew that pressing the issue wouldn’t make things better, though if he pretended like everything was alright would just be an issue bottled up.

GON: Do you wanna play some Fortnite Duos maybe? We can try grinding for the new tiger costume you like :D

Kil: cant

Kil: my mom took my fucking PC away in attempt to become mother of the year

GON: :( im sorry!! But im sure she’ll give it back soon, right?

Kil: fat chance, I probably have to wait till my brother comes back from his stupid trip

Gon tilted his head in thought. This has probably been the longest Killua had ever talked about his family with him. Up to this point it had only been passing remarks about siblings whose actions and personalities melted into each other due to lack of discernible unique traits, and that his family was rich.

GON: How long is that going to be?

GON: Maybe your mom will calm down and change her mind <:(

Kil: lmao, maybe if id actually study now shed be satisfied enough

Kil: but theres no way in hell im going to give her what she wants

Kil: ESPECIALLY NOW

GON: So whatre you going to do??

Kil: idk

Kil: talk to you and think about how to set fire to this place?

 The young boy smiled, though for some reason he could feel a knot tighten in his chest.

 GON: How about only talking to me for now?

 And they talked. For a couple of hours, they talked about Gons new streaming schedule, about how he wanted to have one dedicated day in the week solely for collaborations. They talked about a new exploit for Super Mario Sunshine that could potentially scrap 10 seconds off of the current World record if executed correctly. They talked about how Leorios medical-student VLOG channel had been trending again after he made a hypocritical video about the damages of energy drinks.

Kil: he could have at least cleaned the infamous pyramid out of frame…

GON: Haha he said that in hindsight too

GON: But I think it was his boyfriend who finally made him clean it up -v-“

Kil: must be nice to have someone living with you who gives a shit

Kil: I think at this point the housekeeper hasn’t even touched the minefield that’s my brothers room in months

GON: It can’t be that bad :”D

Kil: you bet?

Kil: what do you think, how much chip dust is needed for an anime figure to come to life?

The mental image of Killuas home slowly shifted in Gons mind again. A large mansion, bedrooms as big as some apartments, with individual housekeepers for everyone. And one room dedicated to imitating a postapocalyptic anime merch shop.

And somewhere in that large mansion, is a room probably equipped with a messy bed, a (now empty) desk and gaming chair, maybe some shelves with books and games. In the middle of it a slightly blurry figure, maybe a bit shorter than Gon, pale skin and messy hair and piercing bright eyes.

He had seen pictures of Killua, a handful of selfies taken at his desk, one picture his sister (who he’d mention the least from his mysterious family) had taken of him in front of a rose bush. And no matter how dimly lit the picture would be, or out of focus, or taken from a distance; His eyes were always the first thing Gon would focus on. At first, he was convinced that he was using a filter, there’s no way someone in real life would have eyes like that.

But Killua did. Killua hid electricity behind those eyes, dangerous and yet enticing, beaming with a life energy that can barely be contained. Gon had heard poems and songs about blue eyes, though none of them ever came close to describing eyes like these. Or the feeling Gon would get from looking at them, tingling in his fingertips, making him smile and giggle and stomp his feet. Kind of like getting a victory royale.

Gon has other friends besides Killua. But none ever made him feel the same way when they talked. He craved no one’s presence as much as he craved Killuas. And something inside him felt the constant urge to tell Killua that, to tell him how much he meant to him, what’s so amazing about him, how he didn’t want this friendship to end.

But that’s just not something friends would tell each other unprompted, and it’s not something that could easily told to Killua, who danced around the word “friends” as if it were a dangerous animal. So, he didn’t say anything.

 Kil: gon?

Kil: did you fall asleep?

GON: No haha, I was just thinking about how huge your house must be!!

Kil: yeah its huge and ugly, sometimes way too loud, sometimes really fucking quiet

Kil: im sure it must be nicer in your home

GON: I mean, it is pretty nice, but its also a little lonely I think

GON: All my friends live closer to the city, so usually no one is around to just come outside and hang out :^T

Kil: if I could id fly over right now and you could show me all the gross spiders that rule your continent with 8 iron fists

GON: They aren’t gross!! Spiders are really fun once you get to know them :^D

GON: And you know, you’d always be welcome here, Aunt Mito would be thrilled to meet you ^^

And Gon meant it. Though Killua never let too much slip of his family life and surroundings, Gon could tell it was trouble, and he deeply wished he could give Killua even just a one-day break from whatever went down in that mansion.

Kil: since we are both home schooled, we wouldnt even need to wait for summer break or anything

GON: Right :^D And its not like either of us are big on studying either ^^”

Gon glanced briefly at the disregarded Math work and shuddered.

Kil: you mean it, right?

Kil: if I were to text you some time that im at an airport and im coming over, you wouldnt let me be stranded somewhere on your prison continent, right?

GON: Of course not!!!

GON: … but I’d prefer it if you give a heads up so I can clean my room :^D

Kil: thanks gon, I appreciate it

Kil: i appreciate you

Gon felt his heartrate skyrocket. Of course he’d let Killua stay, even if he rang at his door without any prior notice. Because even if it goes unsaid, Killua was his friend. Maybe even his best friend. And he’d do anything to keep him safe, or to just give him one minute that he doesn’t have to think about his family. He wanted to see those blue eyes reflect the Australian sun, free of worry and tension.

GON: I appreciate you, too

[bookshopkat]

Asian Fantasy Novels for the Lunar New Year

Photo by Thyla Jane

Happy Year of the Ox!  The Lunar New Year, or Spring Festival, is a major celebration in many Asian countries.  Marking the first new moon of the lunar calendar, this celebration lasts for days and is a time for family and friends, lantern festivals, dragon and lion dances, gifts of money, fireworks, and feasts.  There’s something enchanting about the Lunar New Year, with its bright lanterns lining every street and its sparkling starbursts lighting the night sky.  At its heart is tradition, cultural beliefs, and a mixture of mythology and magic.  Simple charms are used to bring good luck and drive away evil.  The supernatural has a firm place amid the celebrations, from shoe-stealing ghosts in South Korea to Vietnamese kitchen gods to the lion-like monster Nian in China.  As such, this holiday presents a marvelous opportunity to both celebrate various Asian cultures and conjure a sense of wonder.  So, to celebrate the Lunar New Year, here are four fantasy novels rooted in Asian culture and lore.

Jade City by Fonda Lee

On the island of Kekon, jade grants those with the ability to wield it special powers, but promises pain and death for anyone lacking the right genetics who tries to use it.  As a result, jade smuggling is a profitable business and those families with the capacity to use the mineral, called Jade Bones, make up the highest class of society. But now ordinary citizens are somehow gaining the ability to use jade, and it is throwing the society of Kekon into turmoil.  As suspicion fuels inter-clan warfare among the noble class, the future of the island nation hangs in the balance.  In the midst of this chaos stands three siblings. Kaul Lan, the new, young, peace-loving leader of his family, finds himself faced with the uncomfortable necessity of bloodshed as he tries to steer his clan through these uncertain times.  Lan’s brother, the hot-tempered and passionate Kaul Hilo, is like a warrior straight out of old tales: honorable, protective, and hungry for battle and glory.  Their sister, Shae, is an independent modern woman who chose to cast aside her jade along with her traditional roles in favor of freedom and marriage to an outsider.  Added to this cast of characters is Wen, Hilo’s forbidden lover, who is burdened by the combination of coming from a disgraced family and being a rare Stone Eye, a supposedly cursed person completely immune to jade.  All four have their differences and disagreements, and the tension between them mirrors the growing strain in their homeland at large.  It will take them all, however, to find out who is responsible for the dangerous drug allowing non-Jade Bones to wield the sacred stone before it is too late.

This is a novel that bridges high fantasy and urban fantasy, weaving a tale of heroism, betrayal, and intrigue against the backdrop of a thoroughly modernized enchanted society. Lee’s narrative is intricate and interesting, her world building is exceptional, and her magical system is comprehensive and intelligent.  Running throughout the entire tale are elements of Chinese myth and culture, with folklore concerning gods and monsters playing a vital part.  Complex, well-written, and engaging, Jade City is grand and unique fantasy adventure.

Tears of the Wind by Phung Lam

This collection of short stories is a touching as it is magical.  Taking place on the fictional Island of Wishes, each tale explores human nature and the deepest desires people harbor in dark corners of their minds. From a lonely heart seeking solace to a soul hungry with ambition, this anthology explores the not only the power of wishes, but the question: what would people do if the one thing they truly wanted most could be theirs?  It’s basically impossible to find an English version of this book, and I had to rely on the Smart Book translation application for the ebook format.  That led to some odd phrasing in portions of the text, but the collection was nonetheless enjoyable. That is because Lam writes not only with imagination but also with a keen understanding of humanity.

The narratives are dreamlike, the content somewhat akin to magical realism and the tone ultimately surrealistic.  Ranging from heartrending to horrifying, Lam weaves stories about the darkest parts of ourselves, when we harbor wishes we dare not name, as well as about the unforeseen and often terrible consequences of getting exactly what we think we want.  The author explores the nature of love, the power of longing, and the baser side of our very nature. It’s an engaging collection that seems, and its core, to turn upon one basic thought: be careful what you wish for.

The Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo

Set in late-nineteenth-century Malaya, on the island of Borneo, this novel sparkles with folk beliefs and superstitions.  Li Lan is a spirited girl and only child from a family wrapped in what can only be called genteel poverty.  Her life is certainly not perfect—her mother is dead, her father, although loving, has allowed his grief to lead to opium addiction, and her marriage prospects are extremely limited—but things aren’t so very bad.  Apart from occasional longings for beautiful new clothing such as she sees other wealthier girls sporting, Li Lan would be reasonably content if it weren’t for one thing: her father has asked her if she would like become a ghost bride.  He says it almost as a joke, but the moment he speaks the words, the wheels of fate start to turn. The rare tradition of ghost brides is meant to mollify the spirits of wealthy young men who died without marrying, and it presents both tempting and terrifying prospects. While accepting would mean financial help for her aging father as well as a place for Li Lan herself in one of Malacca city’s most affluent households, it would also mean giving up any dreams of love, passion, or children of her own.

Li Lan, of course, refuses, especially when she starts to develop feelings for another decided living man.  But the choice may not be as easy as the thinks.  She finds herself haunted by Lim Tiang Ching, her spectral suitor, and he is determined to have her.  Tiang Ching, the young woman soon learns, was selfish and cruel when he was alive, and death hasn’t improved him. Desperate, Li Lan seeks the help of a local wise woman, and unwittingly finds herself embroiled in a supernatural struggle where ghosts are all too real and her only hope hangs on a mysterious young man who may be more than he seems, and who is most definitely keeping secrets.  On top of that, she begins to realize that the Lim family is harboring some dark secrets of their own, and one of them may be deadly.  

Choo’s narrative is imaginative as well as brimming with cultural folklore and traditions.  A blend of mystery and fantasy, it is engaging from start to finish.  Many of the characters are interesting and a little quirky, although a couple feel less well developed and there were a few moments when I felt the protagonist was a bit too flighty for my tastes. Nonetheless, this is a fun, entertaining fantasy book, perfect for an evening of light reading with a cup of tea or coffee at your side.

When You Trap a Tiger by Tae Keller

This is a truly wonderful novel blending together magical realism, mythology, family drama, and a deeply touching coming of age tale. It’s a beautifully written and imaginative narrative where opposites don’t so much collide as they do interweave in a complex dance.  Dreams tangle with reality, childhood blurs with adolescence, Korean tradition intersects with modern America, folklore mingles with daily life, and stories become solid enough to touch. Through it all runs a profound understanding of emotion and the human spirit.

Lily has always loved visiting her Korean grandmother, catching stars to learn what stories they hold and listening to traditional tales from their ancestral homeland.  This, however, is different.  Now Lily, along with her mother and her sister, are moving in with the old woman because Lily’s grandmother is sick, and isn’t getting any better.  A new city, a new school, and new fears about her beloved relative would all be difficult enough, but Lily has another problem: upon arriving, she sees a tiger straight out of one of her grandmother’s tales.  This is both a metaphor for many things: words unsaid, terminal illness, fear, and long-ago mistakes.   It is, however, also an introduction of the magical real.  Upon informing her grandmother about the big cat, Lily begins unraveling the old woman’s greatest tale yet, and takes the first step in a personal journey to discover family secrets and leave her childhood behind.  As marvelous as it is heartfelt, When You Trap a Tiger addresses conflicts between generations and cultures, as well as the reconciliation of the past, through the lens myths and storytelling. At its core, this is a novel about the power of both love and stories, as well as about one girl finding herself.

Perhaps one of these books will make an excellent companion over the next several days as celebrations of the Lunar New Year progress. Blending Asian folklore with a sense of the fantastic, these works may prove to be the perfect way for those not immersed in these festivities to still capture a bit of the season’s spirit.  Readers hungry for an interesting narrative that is a little out of the ordinary will likely find any one of these to be a feast for the imagination, as well as a wonderful way to start of the Year of the Ox.  Happy Reading!

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/4/2020: SOCIETY

Without having a survey to back me up, I feel comfortable asserting that as a horror fan, you go through different phases with SOCIETY. It’s a basic fact of life, and yet it morphs and mutates underneath you, shocking you anew just when you think you’ve got a grip on it. You never forget your first time, because there is simply nothing like it. Then, after you get over the initial shock of its patented brand of body horror, you start to take it for granted; it's so broad and monolithic that it becomes something like the Grand Canyon--when it’s not right there in front of you, you begin to experience it more iconically, as part of the wallpaper of existence, rather than an in-your-face confrontation with the limits of experience. Then, you revisit it every few years (or months, depending on what sort of person you are), and the prophylactic layer that your brain has wrapped around your memories of it--the one that allows you to think of SOCIETY as a fun, wacky cheap thrill--begins to crumble, and you realize all over again how iconoclastically vile it is. Wherever you happen to be at, with this inimitable genre landmark, you'd be hard pressed to deny that it earns its royal status among horror movies, just for being so uniquely fucked up.

Filmmaker Brian Yuzna is best known as the co-creator of the indispensable RE-ANIMATOR (or as the co-writer of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS...depending on what sort of person you are, again), itself a milestone achievement in the blending of sex and gore that so characterized '80s horror production. That film clearly brought out the best in Yuzna and frequent collaborator Stuart Gordon (also of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS fame...among other things), but it's interesting to see how they operate apart, to understand the unique ingredients that each filmmaker brought to the more perfect union of their classic Lovecraft adaptation. Gordon skewed darker and more intellectual, as evidenced by the end of his career with the shattering mob thriller KING OF THE ANTS, the disturbing true crime drama STUCK, and the Mamet-penned EDMOND. Yuzna, for his part, is almost anti-intellectual, preferring to cook up blackly comic, semi-pornographic nightmares like his two increasingly horny RE-ANIMATOR sequels, the terminal S&M fantasy RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD 3, and the shamelessly hokey comic book adaptation FAUST: LOVE OF THE DAMNED. Yuzna's lack of shame is really his defining feature as an artist, and nowhere is this more obvious than in his directorial debut and signature masterpiece, SOCIETY.

Salvador Dali's "The Great Masturbator," a chief visual inspiration for SOCIETY.

Yuzna was able to leverage the success of RE-ANIMATOR to lock in two directorial opportunities, BRIDE OF RE-ANIMATOR, and a bizarre body horror exercise about a Beverly Hills orphan who discovers that not only are his adoptive family from a different bloodline, but they're not even from the same species. That both pictures employed the writing team of Woody Keith and Rick Fry gives you a little taste of what to expect from SOCIETY, but to be frank, the latter threatens to make the former look like a very special episode of ER; "overkill" barely begins to describe SOCIETY’s ambitious assault on the human body. In a recent interview, the philipino-american director giggles perversely, "I think my friends were a little embarrassed for me (when they saw SOCIETY)," and this sound bite reminded me that the last, most important ingredient that Yuzna contributes to any project is unabashed joy. It's a little hard to imagine stomaching SOCIETY without it.

In this unusual scene from the class struggle in Beverly Hills, Billy Warlock (son of HALLOWEEN 2's Michael Myers, Dick Warlock) plays Bill Whitney, a rich, handsome, athletic high school student with a heavy duty anxiety disorder. Although he appears to have it all, he is plagued by nightmares and hallucinations, reflecting suspicions that the family that spoils him is also out to get him. Perhaps this is all understandable, though. Bill is under a lot of pressure these days, with his parents devoting all of their attention to his sister's coming out party, and his narcissistic girlfriend pushing him to ingratiate himself to the assholes higher up the social ladder; it's enough to make any teenager feel alienated and insecure. But, do these garden variety anxieties account for his visions of his sister's body deforming itself unnaturally, or the dubious evidence he finds that her debutante ball involves incestuous orgies and human sacrifice? Is Bill simply crumbling under the strain of societal expectations, or is the friction with his shrink, his parents, and his peers all symptomatic of an elaborate plot against him by elites who are truly less than human?

I can’t believe they use this cheapo blanket trick MORE THAN ONCE in a movie that is famous for its unforgettable special effects, and I guess I kind of love it.

In case I haven't made the answer abundantly obvious, I'll add that while SOCIETY is the purest expression of Yuzna-ness on the market, it has an important co-author in Screaming Mad George. The eccentric japanese FX master, whose name is apparently an amalgamation of Mad Magazine, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and...George, has produced some of horror's most outrageous makeup and visual effects, mostly for Yuzna, many of them in SOCIETY. If you've seen even a trailer for Alex Winter's 1993 oddity FREAKED--which is itself a grossout criticism of American social standards--then you are already familiar with SMG's trademark style. He specializes in twisted perversions of the human form that would make a cenobite blush, driven by a penchant for puns, and influenced equally by THE THING's Rob Botin, and Big Daddy Roth’s Rat Fink style. Screaming Mad George is instrumental in articulating Yuzna's premise: that behind the shimmering veneer of success and sophistication, the upper class are just a bunch of degenerates, who literally degenerate into something unimaginable behind closed doors. It's impossible to imagine SOCIETY without his sinuous, slithering monstrosities, or his indescribable realization of their most important social event, "the shunt".

One of many great images from a zine I wish I owned, on SMG’s Facebook page.

It's easy to get overwhelmed by SOCIETY's visual impact, but its message is just as potent now as it was at the end of the Reagan era: Rich people are not only different from the rest of us, but in fact, they aren't even human. Writers Keith and Fry make an interesting choice of hero to help put this across. A lazier writer would have selected any archetype from the Freaks and Geeks set to create an easy Us vs Them tension, but SOCIETY is led by a promising young man who, for reasons he himself does not yet understand, is just not "the right kind of people". Bill appears to have every advantage in life, including a level of popularity that wins him presidency of the debate team despite his nerdier rival’s superior prowess--and yet, he suffers from a stigmatizing psychiatric disorder that is the natural result of feeling indefinably different from one's peers, and intuiting that, as a consequence, they don't even really like you. The shallow jock with deep-seated emotional problems is a much more interesting protagonist for this kind of social allegory than the charismatic outcasts that you get in movies like THE FACULTY and DISTURBING BEHAVIOR, for whom the idea that the elites could be aliens is just de rigueur.

It's worth noting that this complexity of character extends to Bill's love interest, sympathetic society girl Clarissa Carlyn (Playboy Playmate Devin DeVasquez). At first, she seems villainously eager to introduce Bill to the many splendors of "the shunting", but as the plot against him mounts to its horrifying conclusion, she defects. There appears to be a reason for this, although honestly, this is the most difficult part of SOCIETY for me to wrap my head around. Clarissa lives as an essentially independent adult, only burdened by her mother (Pamela Matheson), a possibly brain damaged hulk who lurks in and out of various scenes just to be disturbing, always announced by some toots on a tuba, before eventually siding with our heroes. I'm really not sure what's supposed to be going on in this part of the movie, except that this character contributes to a number of distasteful jokes. But, I hold on to the idea that by virtue of whatever disorder Mrs. Carlyn suffers from, she serves the purpose of priming Clarissa to rebel, since her very existence makes her daughter something of a societal outcast herself. That's the best I can do.

In any case, everyone working on SOCIETY commits completely, with Mrs. Carlyn being no exception. The movie's climactic orgy of the damned is an all hands on deck operation, just as reliant on Screaming Mad George's artistic abilities as it is on the actors' responsibility to make you believe that this fucked up shit is really happening. There's a visceral patina of sleaze spread over the entire film, dripping from the way that characters talk to and touch each other, flirting and flaunting their bodies in a distinctly unseemly fashion, even when it stays within the realm of mundane reality. This constant sinister, insinuating attitude on the part of the whole cast lays the foundation for what is to come, and while I appreciate everybody's hard work, my favorite performance is from an actor who only comes in at the very end: David Wiley as society king Judge Carter. Wiley's career consisted almost exclusively of the most ordinary sort of television work, which makes his outrageous turn in this alien porno flick all the more respectable. While other characters transition from suspicious pod people to full-on mutated perverts, Judge Carter has to show up just for the finale, establish his authority, rip off his clothes, and plunge straight into a sea of slime, happily fisting his way through the cast. Wiley meets this challenge with aplomb, making of himself a hybrid of Robert Englund and Gene Hackman, perfectly embodying the movie's joyful absurdity, and never betraying the slightest hint of embarrassment. 

SOCIETY is very much a don't-look-down type of endeavor, a fairy that could expire at the slightest lapse in faith. There's a visual pun in the last act that's so gross, so offensive, so frankly idiotic, that I don't have the courage to describe it; my whole body tenses up when I know this scene is coming, as if it were the meat hook scene in TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE or the brutal rape in the middle of SHOWGIRLS. I don't like it, but at the same time, I respect Yuzna's unhesitating commitment to show it to me, and I think that actor Charles Lucia should get some kind of award for shouldering the burden so valiantly. SOCIETY is a daring movie in the truest sense, a film with more balls than brains, and in this it exposes the limitation of intelligence and taste, and the real need for pure transgression, in producing art of any real value. You might argue with me about whether Yuzna's masturbatory magnum opus really qualifies as art, but to respond to that, I'll quote the great transgressor Alejandro Jodorowsky: "If you are great, EL TOPO is a great picture. If you are limited, EL TOPO is limited." So stick that in your shunt and smoke it.

PS Here, have this stuck in your head for the rest of your life.

[cr-darksienna]

hello hello! i’m here to bring you an idol group’s absolutely trash of a leader, rapper and vocal, jeong jaehyuk. he’s a jack of all trades, master of none with a bit of an anger streak and anger issues that he’s been learning over the years to handle. darkly charismatic and with a open history due to a big scandal that he had few months into riot’s debut, hyuk is a performer with a 150% effort and attitude, living like he can burn out in a single day and not live to see the next sunrise tomorrow. incorrigible, possessive and with a slightly petty streak, he’s not one to pull his punches (esp with his members) with anyone that offends him, though he’s been taming himself under bc’s watchful eye until more recently. call him a cesspool of moral filth or a festering pool of toxicity, he’s as deeply insecured behind his antagonistic nature, and has worked ten times as hard for 13 years in his company to get himself to where he kinda is in right now, neither here nor there, halted in his steps by a company that feels he’s not up to it due to his loose handle on emotions and a desperate attempt to quell down on the various scandals that knight has had.

his company has played into the image of the bad boy of the group for him, especially after his first (and only) scandal, and he plans to make the most of it, especially with the reins now loosened on his end. he’s spent quite the time being a tamed tiger, and isn’t going to hesitate upon wreaking havoc once he’s been let loosened.

do hit the like button if you’d like to plot with him, and i’ll pop into your discords / dms! hyuk’s a muse that i prefer brainstorming for instead of having plots ahead of time, so feel free to go ahead and throw anything in his direction when we discuss!

profile / background 

about stuff : (tw: abandonment, anger issues, violence)

he says he doesn’t have parents, which is partially true, considering he spent almost all of his life in the foster care system, until he aged out at 18. being bounced around from foster house to foster house in the adoption system didn’t do well for his own personality and view about himself, and he came away with a really bad anger streak and violent tendencies, especially when someone tries to poke him / agitates him.

if he wasn’t an idol, hyuk would have gone on to do some petty crimes, because prior to the age of 13 (when he was casted by bc for his face), he was sliding towards the dark side of the law, running from school, getting into street fights, doing little things that never set a juvenile record, but still wasn’t all that clean either.

he was casted one day when running away from school when he was 13 (his results needless to say were trash), and was offered a contract because of his face. his company was looking for someone with similar vibes to his own, and was willing to train him as long as he remained committed to the trainee path. he took up the offer with the insistence of his then foster mother--the orphanage’s owner, who honestly couldn’t wait to get rid of him, due to all the trouble he made.

so jaehyuk became a trainee just through a scrape of luck--his rapping skills were pretty okay, and so were his vocals, and bc felt as though they could polish him more if he did became a trainee, and so he started 13 years of his trainee life. being a trainee actually directed a lot of his excess energy from his angered self into his personal commitment to master a single thing--and he eventually became known amongst trainees as one of the most competitive, even if he wasn’t the best at what he did.

he was like a blackhole, constantly desperate to learn, and when he learned something, he was equally as desperate to master it, just doing things in the way that he knew how to do--and that was to knock on it until he either punched a hole through and understood it, or the door opened on itself for him. rapping became that particular outlet that he felt he moderately achieved some success with, but it wasn’t enough.

hungry for more he turned his eyes to producing, composing, even took acting classes and variety classes, just to fill that gaping hole of inadequacy that he felt made him out to be just not enough. while he knows he’s not the best, he’s proud of his unique vision for performance, and is pretty insistent about his artistic vision, which he gradually found a talent for.

but well. its not enough. he wanted--no he needed more.

and so when riot came and he became their leader by some crappy stroke of fate, he set what he felt was the lowest boundary  for all of their members : respect each other, give your best to all that you do for riot, if not, i will sock you in the face. from the beginning, hyuk was very clear that he wouldn’t be the best leader, because he knew he had more than enough flaws in himself, and even felt that he lacked the qualifications to be one, but since his own fate relied on riot being successful, he expected everyone else in the group to at the very least, treat it with the same respect and effort he does, because one way or another they’re all in this whole thing together.

funny thing is: a few months after their debut and their first scandal (that wasn’t his), he lands himself in hot water for a violence scandal, having punched a male bystander in anger. bc was chagrined enough to put him on notice and probation for a while, and desperate to claim back a bit of a credibility, a press conference was held for him to apologise publically.

hyuk abandoned his pride (for various personal reasons as well) that day and went on his hands and knees in front of the reporters, apologising for his scandal and promising to be a better person. unfortunately, that sealed quite a lot of opportunities for him from his company.

his company felt that he needed to get a better grip on his emotions and anger issues before coming out again to the public in other areas apart from his group, and so he wasn’t able to do any variety or act , or even produce any songs (he still wrote lyrics and produced for his group occasionally, and could still produce his own songs, but those songs he produced wouldn’t be selected for a solo), and so to pacify his company hyuk literally abstained from creating another scandal from himself (though he did still cause a bit of problems in his own group), and held himself back until much recently. apart from that, his company publically disclosed much of his history and background to the public--thus rendering it open knowledge that hyuk was an orphan (abandoned by his mother), and from the foster care system, with a slight history of not going well in school etc.

his image is not particularly clean and bright, instead he’s known for the nitty gritty stuff, of which most of his fans have taken to his bad boy image, liking to imagine him to a particular trope because of his apparently rather cute face.

some plot ideas:

he’s a lone wolf by nature, and so he has little (only 2) friends around him, unless you’re mostly from bc and have trained with him for a set amount and a good period of time. these are the people that know him the best, who sees past that angry battered child inside of him to the blackhole that’s yearning for approval and desperate to make himself feel whole again. they’ve seen his self destructive tendencies, watched him careen over the edge and violently fall, do things that he knows clearly isn’t good for him and then suffer the repercussions all over again. ( note: cannot be from his group..he probably doesn’t have a good relationship with most of the riot members)

exes, flings, fwbs : god, he has so many. none of them are consistent, and none of them last between a month to two months really. he simply treats them as if there’s no option of anything further beyond just the wrestle of bodies in bedsheets, and the fierce scratch of his nails against their backs. more often than not, its not him that gets hurt, because he has the tendency to leave before anything further happens. has he fallen for any of them before? probably not. only one, really. don’t get your hopes up, he tells them with a cigarette dangling from his lips and puffs of smoke in the air. because he’s just nothing but the biggest jerk when it comes to feelings and relationships.

the bad influence: he does a lot of vices, from smoking to drinking, to just..a lot of things that most people won’t attempt to try, chasing after that fleeting moment of a thrill and desire. perhaps you’re looking for a kindred spirit who likes the thrill of danger as you do, or you’d like him to spoil you for the worse things in life, open a door to destroy and ruin you completely just like he feels that he’s done to himself.

rivals: ...yeah i don’t think i need to say more, because he’s someone that rises up to the challenge so fully and completely its almost as if he’s itching to have a fight or a challenge. perhaps he’s punched you before, or you differ in your philosophies and values, one way or another, it’s hyuk’s fault that he’s offended you, and you’re both just going to go down because of it.

connection:

the girl he’s in love with (possibly his endgame ; arnd 26 yrs old?) : an idol from a group as well, she’s one of his few closest friends, and he’s known her for around 13 years. they have a on & off friends with benefits thing, with him meeting her after she left his company for 10 years. he’s the one she always gravitates to back again, and they’re equally, broken, twisted and carnal--that’s why they’re perfect for each other, since they’re the only ones that can take and survive each other.

[deejadabbles]

Too Many Gems ( Atem x Reader x Yugi Soulmate AU)

Summary: The soulmate AU where everyone is born with gems on their wrists symbolizing themselves and their soulmates. So, what does it possibly mean, that you were born with two soulmate gems?

A.N. Yet another fic I posted on my AO3 awhile ago, but I’m making a second part to this and figured it’d be nice to share it here on tumblr. I know soulmate AUs aren't really in vogue anymore, but I've always liked them and this particular prompt inspired me a lot! Hope it appeals to at least someone else out there <3

***

Opinions on Soulmate Gems varied from culture to culture, and nowadays, due to the connectivity of the internet and social media, opinions even more often varied from person to person.

There was one side of the spectrum, where someone would dedicate their whole life to ‘reading’ Soulmate Gems. Those who said they could predict the personality of your future soulmate, what they looked like, even in some cases, when you’d meet them.

On the other side, you had those who thought it all ridiculous hogwash- superstitious quackery. They said the gems were a simple genetic marker, no more consequential to your lover or future than the color of your eyes or hair.

Then, still more -a majority it seemed- fell somewhere in the middle. Looking up theory blogs online on what the colors of your Gems could mean, but ultimately just sitting back and waiting for when their match crossed their paths.

It was that third reasoning, that laidback, uncommitted medium, that left you without answers on your predicament for years. The first two decades of your life was nothing but questions, judgments and unwanted attention.

“What’s wrong with your Gems?”

“Oh, wow. You have extra? That’s...uh...cool.”

“Gems on both arms, a symbol of great fortune, be thankful, my dear.”

Why were things different with your Soulmate Gems?

Your parent’s tried their best to give you a satisfactory answer, but they were one of those people who fell in the middle when it came to the superstition and belief in the strange jewels planted in the inside of one’s forearms. They only told you what most people would say about them: “The Gem on top, the one closest to your wrist, represented your soulmate. The one below it represented you. Their colors, shapes, cuts and shine quality were as unique as the qualities that make up a person’s face, and when you found someone who had matching gems only in reserved order on their arm, well, you just found your partner for life.”

The abnormality that came with you, was that you didn’t have gems solely on the left arm, where they were supposed to be. You didn’t even have the same gems on both arms. The two closest to your wrists were different, and under them both were the gems that were meant to represent you.

The one on the left, the only one you should have to symbolize your soulmate, was a gorgeous purple color somewhere between lilac petals and amethyst stone. Its shape was oval and the cuts to it had rounded edges, as if they had been buffered away to make its whole appearance more soft.

The one on your right arm was both a contrast and compliment to the first. Its color was a deep red that spoke of regality and strength, in the shape a triangle, though its cut made the shape more like a squat pyramid. Both had a brilliant shine quality, bright, with a glittering sparkle that you could stare at for hours.

You weren’t the only one who had two sets, it was not unheard of, but you still never got a straight answer as to what it meant! One side of the spectrum said it symbolized that you were one of the few who was gifted with the choice of two soulmates, destined for a romance worthy of Greek mythology. And still the other side said it was like a dog who had two different eye colors, a simple genetic mutation, nothing to worry about, move on.

The lack of answers was bad enough, but what really made your life…harder, was everything else that came with your extra Gems.

One’s first year of school was always awkward, but having something so visible that was so odd. Well…

“What’s wrong with your Gems?”

The first of the three girls crowding around your desk looked as though she was about to pull your right arm across the table for a better look. Still, you think you’d have preferred that over the strange sneers the other two were giving you.

“How are you supposed to find your Soulmate if you got that many?!”

Why was the second girl’s voice so…accusatory? As if it were a crime to have them on your other arm?

The third girl laughed. “She’s a freak if you ask me. Why would anyone want a soulmate who looks so weird?”

The other two laughed along with her, and you felt a swell of shame rise in your chest as you withdrew your arms from their sights and tucked them as close to your body as you could. You sniffled when you heard a couple other students sitting at the desks nearby join their laughter. No one felt the need to say anything to counter the remarks. Not even something as simple as: “At least your Gems are pretty!” Nothing.

High school was easier for a while, because by then you had filled your wardrobe with almost nothing but long sleeved shirts and jackets as far as tops were concerned. No one could mock you or ask invasive questions if they didn’t see what prompted them.

But then, there was Luka.

He was sweet. He smiled brightly when you two got paired for a class project. He was funny too, always cracking a joke between the studious moments. Not to mention he was cute, the way he blushed at your smile made you feel special.

He was sweet, and not everyone waited around for a Gem match, heck, not everyone even married a match.

“I know it may seem corny or stupid, but, you always wear jackets to school, so it’s got me really curious.”

A whole month of sweet, simple teenage dating passed before he asked.

“I just wanna see what your Gems look like, I bet they’re just as pretty as you.”

His smile and wink made you believe that for a minute, so, you caved.

“Oh, wow. You have extra? That’s...uh...cool.”

He was sweet, and you gave him plenty of credit for trying. Trying to pretend the almost startling mismatch in your Gem sets didn’t bother him, that he was okay with dating you despite the difference.

It didn’t last long before said mismatch started to feel like a barrier between you two, this impossible threshold that could never be crossed. He was sweet, but you could only handle his fake smile and awkward avoidances for a couple weeks.

Adulthood looked promising. You told yourself that as you matured, so would those around you. Besides, it’s not as if everyone isolated you, you had friends, good ones. Your extra Gems didn’t prohibit you from getting a job, or having a normal daily life. Those few negative instances cut you deep, but things could only get better with time, right?

Well, the thing that truly made you jaded in the whole ‘soulmate’ department came at age nineteen.

A warm summer day and a nice walk through town on your day off. You hadn’t expected to be stopped by an older lady, sitting in front of her apartment with a fan to cool herself. She looked familiar, though you couldn’t place her face.

“My dear, I sense such distress in you. Tell me, are you having troubles in regards to your soulmate?”

At first, you wanted to brush the woman off, why was she asking such strange things of a total stranger? Then her next words made you falter.

“I can give you answers. Answers that have eluded you your whole life, my dear. Give me a moment, and I’ll tell you all you need to know.”

Well, what was the harm in talking to a sweet old lady? She ushered you inside her home, the place obviously set up to receive guests often. Oh, she was one of those Gem Readers, someone who claimed that they knew the ‘language’ of the Soulmate Gems inside out. Well, you were opened minded enough to at least hear her out.

“Oh my my, I knew I sensed something different about you. Gems on both arms, a symbol of great fortune, be thankful, my dear.”

Her words sent excitement through you, maybe there was something to Gem Reading. But, the proverbial hammer fell quickly enough.

“Hm, it would take time to properly discern everything, you’d have to come back for several sessions, but, I can already tell that both of your soulmates are waiting for you.” She brushed wrinkled fingers over the shining specimens. “So very very special.”

You can’t believe you had almost handed over fifty dollars for the first ‘session’, before those last four words tripped something in your memory. The supermarket, not more than two weeks ago. It had been a particularly hot day, and you had rolled your sleeves up while shopping. Then an older lady came up to you and…

“You planned this?!” You didn’t mean to shout, but damn it you had almost fallen for her scheme. “You saw my Gems before today, and I walk down this street all the time, you didn’t sense anything from me, you were just trying to exploit my- my- abnormality!”

She stammered and faltered, making poor half excuse after poor half excuse. She was a bad liar, or at least, bad when she got caught in her lies. You stowed your cash back in your bag and when she made a grab for your arm as you turned to leave. You ended up toppling her trinket-laden table over before storming out with your fists white and teeth clenched.

That was the final nail. You had endured all the questions, all the judgment, all the unwanted attention for years, but, in a small way, you had always held hope that everything would be fine eventually. That you would find your answers, your soulmate, and it would all be worth it. That you could find your match and they’d be perfect for you, and you for them. You could be by each other’s sides and finally stick a middle finger up at the world because damn it, if one set of matching Gems meant you were soulmates, two sets meant that no one could question your match, right? Right?

You didn’t bother yourself with such things anymore. You moved on. Tired and disillusioned, that was all you felt you could do. Life was still fine. You had friends, wonderful friends who accepted you and your predicament without judgment. You had your career, and your day to day life was just fine. When a friend here or a coworker there met their matches, you were even happy for them. Things were just fine.

~***~

Long sleeves still being practically mandatory if you wanted any peace while out was a particular curse during the summer. You cursed the heat of the day as you walked the streets of Domino City. You were already itching to roll your sleeves up, the thin fabric not actually helping cool your body. “This won’t take long so just deal with it,” you told yourself. “Besides, I’m sure this game shop has air conditioning.”

You were currently not a resident of Domino, rather a visitor who was seriously thinking of taking a promotion at work that would move you here. One of your best friends from high school was attending a university here and was all too happy to talk the place up while you visited her. But today, she had asked a favor of you.

“Pretty please pick up his gift from the game store!” she had pleaded, referring to her boyfriend who was having a birthday soon. “I got called in for the late shift and don’t have time, besides, I think you’ll really like the store! It’s cute, and you can add it to one of the perks of moving here!”

So here you were, following the directions on your phone to this “Kame Game Shop” place. You nearly passed it completely if it hadn’t been for the little ding on your phone telling that you were here. It was indeed cute, small, but cute. A little classic bell even rung overhead when you opened the door, how sweet.

“Hello! Welcome to Kame Game, if you need anything just let me know!”

The chipper voice immediately drew your attention to the front counter. The young man behind it was greeting you the cutest smile as he opened up a display box of Duel Monster cards. Okay, not just his smile was cute, though you may just have to put him under handsome instead of simply adorable. Stylish too, his lilac colored long sleeved button-up and purple vest complimented his large, sweet eyes wonderfully.

Realizing that you hadn’t answered him yet, you cleared your throat. “Actually, I’m here to pick up something, a special order for Jen?”

“Oh, that’s right! She called me a bit ago and said her friend would be picking up the decks.” He walked over to the cash register and opened up a couple of drawers as you approached the counter. “Here ya go, three custom-built decks!”

He slid a box across the glass top over to you, and inside were three stacks of Duel Monster cards neatly placed. “She got him cards? And here I thought he owned cases and cases of these,” you mused with a giggle.

“Well, these are kind of special. She built them herself based on decks he’s always wanted and liked. We just had to order the individual cards for her.” The young man waited a beat, while you looked over the descriptions of the top cards, then asked, “Do you play?”

“No, not really. Always seemed interesting, but I never liked the idea of running into those jerk, elite gamer types.”

He let out a chuckle that made you blush a bit for some reason. “I can relate to that. It’s okay to be passionate about the game, but most don’t realize the best part is just having fun.”

“I wouldn’t mind playing if it was someone like you.” The words came out before you even knew you wanted to say them. You were glad you were still facing the cards, maybe the increasing redness of your face would go unnoticed.

Even just out of the corner of your eye, you saw him perk up. “Really? Well, I have some decks laying around, and today’s been pretty slow business-wise, if you’d like to play.” When a second passed and you didn’t answer or look up, he quickly added, “Only if you want to, of course, you don’t have to.”

“Actually,” you straightened up and looked at him with a smile of your own, “I’d like that.”

At that, he was smiling again. Okay, you would definitely have to put him in the handsome category, especially with the way his eyes seemed to sparkle. He held his hand out to you, “I’m Yugi, by the way.”

As it turns out, Yugi was not only a wonderful opponent but a wonderful teacher as well. There was still some aspects of the game you were fuzzy on, and he answered all your questions with delight, that smile of his never wavering. He was good at the game too, and beat you easily each time, but it never made you feel discouraged or…well, beaten at all really. Though it was bringing out a more playful competitive side to you.

“Alright, Yugi, it’s on now! I’ve gotten the hang of my strategy so I’m totally taking you down this time!” To accentuate your claim you even rolled up your sleeves, clapping your hands together in excitement.

He chuckled, “Oh yeah? Well, don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re a beginner! I want both of us…to…” His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on your forearms. Your now exposed forearms.

You sighed inwardly, he didn’t have to make his staring that obvious. His lips were slightly parted in shock, eyes wide in surprise. Well, better address it head-on.

“Weird right? The percentage of people with multiples Soulmate Gems is pretty low, but, here I am.” You waved your arms in what you’d hope would be a cute motion, but it only seemed awkward in the silence. You opened your mouth to say something else, but suddenly, Yugi seemed to regain himself.

“Oh! Oh man, I’m sorry for staring but I just- Well I mean-” he let out a shaky breath “I can’t believe it!”

“Hey, it’s not that weird,” your tone was lightly scolding, honestly you were about two minutes away from leaving.

“No- no! That’s not what I meant!” He put his hands up, looking a bit panicked at your defensiveness. “It’s just that you’re-!” Apparently at a loss and looking more ecstatic by the moment, he forgot words entirely and settled for action.

That action, was to roll up the sleeves of his button-up with hasty, shaking hands- and reveal his Gems to you. His multiple Gems.

“We’ve finally found you!” Yugi sounded near tears with how happy he was, but your attention was too focused on both of his arms.

On his left wrist, was a triangular shaped Gem of a rich red. Below it, the one that represented Yugi was a rounded, soft looking purple Gem. Those, and the one on his right wrist, the one that matched your personal Gem perfectly, were all jewels you knew too well.

You were too stunned to do, well, much of anything, besides cover your mouth with your hand. Yugi took your state into consideration, because he let you take it all in, to hang in the shock for a moment, but not too long. He covered the hand that was still on the counter with his own, a joyful tear actually escaping his eye.

“We’ve been waiting for so long, I can’t believe you’re finally here.”

“W- We?” you managed to choke out.

His eyes widened again, as if remembering something, “Right, there’s someone I want you to meet. Someone you need to meet.” He bit his lip as he looked over at the wall clock. “Do you mind waiting here?”

Not for the first time since meeting Yugi you found words pouring from your mouth before you even knew to say them. “Of course.”

Apparently the shop doubled as a home, because Yugi quickly ushered you to an unmistakably residential part of the building. As you sat down on the couch he seemed a bit scatterbrained, looking about the room and casting glances back to the store.

“Uh, I still have to watch the shop, can you wait here for a bit?”

“Oh, uh, yeah that’s fine.”

Yugi’s smile was back in place and he reached down to give your hands a gentle squeeze, his eyes raking over your Gems again as he said, “I know you probably have a lot of question, but I promise we’ll talk soon, we just need someone else here too.”

For a moment he looked as though he wanted to do something else before parting, maybe he wanted to hug you or give you a kiss on the cheek. But if he did he must have decided the act was too fast too soon, because he did part without any of that, leaving you alone in his living room.

You let out a shaky breath in his absence, still trying to wrap your mind around all of this. Yugi was your soulmate. Or at least, that was the only thing you could assume given your matching sets. But, what of the red pyramid Gem? You had heard from several soulmate theorists that it meant you had the pick of two soulmates, while still others said it was just an aberration that meant when you found your match, it was undoubtedly your match because you had more than two Gems to compare.

As you sat in the quiet, alone in your thoughts, your fingers curled into fists on top of your lap. A moment later you found yourself hastily pulling your sleeves back down to your wrists, finding comfort in the cover. Things were still so uncertain. Yugi however, Yugi seemed to have answers. Maybe this other person he wanted you to meet was some expert on soulmates and gave him answers long ago. In spite of that, you felt oddly...panicked. You had spent so long with so many people who imposed their opinions on you, both positive and negative. Hadn’t you been content with the idea of never meeting your match? Of resigning yourself to never getting a definite answer? Yes? No? Maybe?!

You rose to your feet, you needed air, you needed to clear your mind. There was a back door between the living room and kitchen. You’d just step out for a minute, Yugi wouldn’t mind, you’d come back soon, you just need to-

The door you had just grabbed the handle of opened from the other side and the wood smacked you hard on the forehead. You didn’t fall to the ground, thankfully, but you did stumble back, rubbing your head and hissing in pain.

“I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

The voice that called out to you was deep, almost innately husky even when just apologizing. You looked up, and your breath, as well as words, seemed to catch in your throat.

The man before you placed a hand on your shoulder, looking concerned as his eyes looked over your face for signs of injury. He was tan, with eyes and hair that looked similar to Yugi’s, though there were hints of red in both. He was wearing a simple light tan tee-shirt, with several necklaces to style it up. One pendant was an eye symbol of some sort, another bearing hieroglyphs and the third being an ankh. Was he Egyptian? Well, he obviously liked jewelry, because to compliment his necklaces he was wearing gold metal bands that covered almost all of both his forearms.

Yugi, you had first thought cute, then handsome a moment later. This man was the opposite. The word handsome hit one in the face like a hammer when laying eyes on him. From the serious shape of his ruby eyes to the more sharp features of his face. But then, when looking closer, some things spoke of a gentler nature, things that said his smile and laugh made him look sweet and soft for a moment.

Oh, you had been staring. Staring way too long because he was now looking at you with a confused kind of concern. “Yeah, I’m fine, you just startled me is all.”

The corner of his lip lifted into something between a smile and a smirk. “Sorry about that. Are you a friend of Yugi’s?” he asked as he shut the door behind him and made for the kitchen counter to set down the takeout bags he was carrying.

“Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that. He’s still watching the store and apparently there’s someone he wants me to meet.”

The man looked a bit confused for a moment but seemed to brush it off quickly.  He turned to face you fully again, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Well, allow me to introduce myself, I’m Atem.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

You did and offered your own name in return. “So do you live here with Yugi or something?” you asked, indicating the food he had brought.

“Well, Yugi and I do live together, but we have our own apartment. Right now we’re simply watching over the house and store while his Grandfather is away.”

With a quiet ‘oh’ as your only response silence was sure to settle between you two. For some reason you didn’t want that to happen, you wanted to know more about him, just as you did Yugi. Before you could think of anything, and thankfully before silence settled, Atem spoke.

“So, did Yugi say who he wanted to introduce you too?”

“No, he was actually pretty vague, but I assume it’s someone who knows something about Soulmate Gems.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Really, Soulmate Gems you say?”

“Well, I think so. While we were talking we discovered that we have the same…abnormality?” Since your words were even unsure to yourself, to make him understand you pulled your sleeves back. “See? We both have too many Gems.”

Later, much much later, you would think yourself quite stupid for not having made the connection sooner, but, realization dawned on you when he looked down at your arms- and had the same reaction as Yugi. His eyes went wide, his lips slightly parted, unable to speak or take his eyes off you.

Silence did fall then, and your mind finally started to connect the dots as the door to the game shop opened again.

“Atem, there you are! Did you leave your phone here again? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you!”

Yugi paused his advanced into the room when he saw you and Atem standing not far apart, with your Gems bared to him. He gave an awkward but pleased laugh as he stepped beside Atem and met your eyes.

“This is who I wanted you to meet. He…well…” Yugi looked to Atem for help in explaining and, much like Yugi had, Atem chose action over words.

The man turned towards the counter and started removing his wristbands. He paused for only a moment before facing you again. The red triangle whose cut looked so much like a pyramid was present on both his arms, and above them, on his wrists, were the Gems of you and Yugi.

Although your mind had been connecting everything even before that, the visual, physical evidence still sent waves of…something through your core. Shock? Relief? Hope? Happiness? Maybe it was all that in one, but whether it was all that or more it made your knees buckle as a sob broke through. Later you might feel stupid, who fell to the ground in tears when meeting their soulmates? Plural. You had two soulmates, and they were each other’s as well. Why hadn’t that been the obvious answer?

Yugi and Atem called out your name as they joined you on the floor, Yugi taking your hand, Atem placing his on your arms, both looking beyond concerned. At least Yugi looked close to tears as well, Atem’s hands also shook, maybe they felt this as much as you.

“I- I’m sorry, I just-” a sniffle broke your words as you tried to regain yourself, “I just spent so long not knowing. I was told I was a freak, that I was special, and everything in between. I- I just, I’m just so…so…”

You didn’t need to finish. Both of them pulled you in, wrapping their arms around you in the most wonderful hug you could have ever imagined. Atem was running fingers through your hair, saying that it was okay, that you didn’t need to explain it to them. Yugi’s hands rubbed soothing circles up and down your back, murmuring agreements, assuring that you didn’t have to apologize for being overwhelmed.

“We’re together now, everything’s going to be okay now.”

Kneeling there with them, words from some time ago, from an opportunistic old woman came floating back. “I can already tell that both of your soulmates are waiting for you.” Who knew part of her scheme had been right? You might owe her an apology.

Time passed but it didn’t matter, tears and shaking had settled by the time all of you were finally ready to break from the hug. Yugi gave a watery smile as he brushed his fingers over your cheek. Atem was practically beaming as he cupped your hand in his and moved to stand, pulling you with him.

“We have a lot of catching up to do,” Yugi said as he rose as well.

“It’s a good thing I bought extra takeout,” Atem chuckled as they led you to the kitchen table. “Shall we consider this our first date together?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a warm, happy, hopeful laugh. “I’d really really like that.”

[kayr0ss]

Ribs

[LWA, Diakko, growing up, timing, kind of angsty at the start, BUT very hopeful, inspired by a song ty Lorde, emotional author, I guess a song fic?]

You don’t always need to get it right the first time.

You can listen to the song when the fic cues it, but it might be confusing so feel free to listen to Ribs by Lorde after.

—–

“We’re just so—so—”

Akko couldn’t look at Diana. She bit her lips, trembling, and somehow the brunette knew that meeting those eyes would bring her over the edge and straight into bawling.

“—so young,” she finally supplied, voice wavering.

Diana’s lips were pressed into a thin line. Keep it in, she clenched her jaw. Keep it in because the slightest crack will make you fall apart.

“I never thought you’d be the one worried about that between the two of us,” the blonde witch managed a dry laugh. She looked down at her hand, finding it out of place so far away from Akko’s. She wanted to hold her.

Akko had no response, though—and reaching over didn’t feel like an option.

They sat on the grass of Luna Nova’s grounds, the sky a deep, inky violet dotted by stars whose formations they’ve memorized after years of instruction. Did a good day really need to feel so… bad? Graduation had crept upon them like a vine left unchecked, and before they knew it they were being pulled apart—apart by continents, time zones, and the sudden realization that they didn’t know if tomorrow promised them the opportunity to stay together.

“When did we put up this wall?” Diana finally broke through, hugging her knees close to her chest while she lifted her gaze towards Orion’s belt.

“W—When we started worrying?” Akko sputtered out, shaky and unsure.

“When we realized,” Diana wondered out loud, “that things aren’t as absolute as we thought, maybe.”

It was a bitter, melancholic thought. Responsibility is something Diana is used to—and growing older and into the world just meant more of the same. She could take it. It wouldn’t be easy, but it wouldn’t be anything new. But Akko—she spared a quick glance to the quivering girl sitting so close yet so far away—Akko wasn’t used to this. The fraying of their rope began when Diana asked a question that Akko was all-to used to skipping: “How do we make this work?”

“We’ll wing it!” she blocked away the query without so much as a thought. But that was two years before the absolute separation of graduating and living half-way across the globe from each other.

A year before their term ended, Akko’s absolute rebuttals had turned into, “We’ve always managed… somehow.”

Three months before the term ended, when asked again, Akko grew irritable. “Why are you always thinking about the future?! We have right now.”

Suddenly time was up.

Diana could feel thorns press into her chest—she couldn’t take it, no—“can’t we break through?”

Two hours before they had to leave campus for the last time as students, Akko drew a teary-eyed sigh.

“I’m scared.”

“You’ve never been before.”

“How do I fit in in that life of yours?”

“We’ll break down this wall.”

“I—” Akko sobbed into her arms. “I—I’m sorry.”

All the constraint had finally become overwhelming. With a heavy, shaky breath, a small sob had broken through.

She cried, but Diana didn’t want this to be the last image of the first girl she ever loved.

“Maybe time will tear the wall away,” she rubbed at her eyes, looking up towards the Big Dipper. Hoping, holding onto a thin thread and hoping—because that is all she has to hold on to for now.

–

The sudden silence of music stopping jolted Diana awake. She blinked her tiredness away, eyes scanning her immediate surroundings, registering that she was on a bus, in a foreign city she had called home for quite a few years by now.

A dream… a memory? She hadn’t thought about her in a while.

Luckily, she wasn't due to disembark until the next stop, and she leaned her shoulder against the glass window while the familiar hiss of the door closing mixed in with the ambient noise of a busy city—it was all a little muffled through muting of her earphones. The sky was dark enough for the first set of city lights to flicker on, but still light enough that the scenery was basked in blue instead of black.

[ Ribs – Lorde ]

Huh. She snuck glance to her smart watch, matching the title of next song to the ethereal voices and synthesizers that made up its introduction. She nearly laughed when the first droplets of rain pitter-pattered against the window pane, thinking that the view of lights blurring past her in a blue-and-violet sky matched the song poetically. Good enough to be a—a—she wrestled with her train of thought, looking for a world a special girl from years past had taught her. Ah. A music video.

She looked up to and wondered if she’d see the big dipper if the clouds didn’t decide to hide it for this evening.

[The drink you spilt all over me]

Soft beeping and a polite announcement let her know that it was time alight. She pulled out a folded umbrella, in much too contemplative a mood to feel vexed at the sudden downpour. It wasn’t so heavy, anyway.

The walk to her apartment was a different experience together when you couldn’t hear the noise—the music drowned out any other sound, and she somehow felt like an outsider; like she was still on the bus and watching other people go about their lives through a glass pane. A new to experience the monotony of going to work, school, and then coming home. Of growing older.

[The drink you spilt all over me – “lovers spit” left on repeat mom & dad let me stay home, it drives you crazy getting old The drink you spilt all over me – “lovers spit” left on repeat mom & dad let me stay home, it drives you crazy getting old’]

There’s a soft lull in the music while it braces for another act; and in this space—as if the music decided to take a breath—she heard jarring familiar,

“Mou!”

Diana takes a sharp breath, and nearly makes a full 180-degree turn.

“I’m never going to find my apartment before dark at this rate!”

Her mouth hangs open but she doesn’t speak—the blonde witch finds herself enraptured; waiting for the apparition in front of her to finish speaking as if to confirm that this was—real.

“Kami-sama, help me!” Red eyes rolled in exasperation and she’s talking to no-one in particular. She still has that silly ponytail sticking up from her hair. The brunette looks around, no doubt trying to discern if North was actually South or vice-versa by the way she was turning her cellular phone around and over.

Maybe time can tear it down.

Diana is walking towards her, afraid that she’ll disappear behind every pedestrian that obstructs her line of sight. She tries several times to call out; to say her name, but it gets caught in her throat and before the fourth try the woman in question catches her line of sight.

The sparkle in her eyes, and the way her mouth had formed a perfect ‘O’ spoke a thousand more words than ‘hello’

“H—Hello.” But Diana went for ‘hello’ anyway. “Akko.”

“Diana,” Akko replies, eyes tracing the blonde witch’s features as if to confirm this wasn’t some scam. “It’s been…”

“…seven or eight?” Diana can’t help but beat her to it. She didn’t realize she was keeping track. “Years, I meant.”

There’s a tentative silence, poorly filled in by the sound of idle chatter, footsteps, and engines cruising down the street. A night-time noodle stall is setting up shop near where they’re standing, and the lack of words was beginning to get unbearable.

“Is that gray hair?”

Akko breaks the tension away like it was nothing. Diana missed that grin so, so much.

“It’s the lighting.”

She also missed feeling that mixture of tenderness and annoyance uniquely caused by this woman.

“Suuure it is.”

Diana rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re a few thousand kilometers away from home.”

“According to this app, actually, I’m only about 20 yards away. Just don’t know which direction those yards might be.”

Diana slips into an easy smile, “I’m just down the street.”

They don’t notice that the rain has stopped, and that the big dipper is sparkling fondly above them through a clearing in the clouds. The wall is gone—and while Diana looks into crimson eyes she wonders if hope is a thread that pulls them apart so they can be stitched together in the right time and places.

“Shall I show you around the city?”

Akko’s hand feels familiar when she takes Diana’s open palm. She laughs lightly. “We have to find my new house first.“

 –

A/N: Hello. I’m writing from the heart and what I’m currently going through. I don’t know what to do with this longing and hope, so I’ll just turn it into a story. Ribs by Lorde could give more perspective so I encourage you to listen.

And if the girl I met through writing stories sees this, know that this is what I wish for us after maybe 8 years of healing on our own. I will see you then, wherever that is, when I come down from the bus stop.