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ikleesfiction · 2 years ago

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Tacones Rojos

Fandom : Chicago PD TV Word count : 4,242 words Pairing : Jay Halstead x reader Author's note : This is the sixth one shot of "Will you follow through if I fall for you" fic continuation. It would be better if you read it first. But if you don't, here's the quick summary. Warning : There is an implied/referenced suicide here. I won't be offended if you back away from the fic because of this. The reference is tiny, non explicit. But it's better to be overcautious than underestimating a possible trigger. I love you, please take care of yourself!

Disclaimer

◢◤

Jay opens the door and lets himself into the house. It has been a good day at work. For once, Chicago's finest criminals are not making too much fuss. The Intelligence Team could get off of work before sundown. They decide to go out for dinner to celebrate Voight’s birthday, which should have been last month, but they were just too busy before.

"Babe?" Jay calls you out.

"Bathroom!" You holler back to let him know where you are. "Thank god you are here early. I thought I had to pick you up at the precinct."

"You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?" Jay walks further into the house. "The team is..." He pauses at the bathroom door, whistling at the vision in the mirror.

There you are in a black dress, sporting a low neckline. The dress has tiered skirts that fall above your knees. It looks lavish yet still modest. Jay fails to figure out how you do it. All he knows is that you look stunning.

Standing behind you, Jay wraps his arms around your waist. "Hi, gorgeous," He kisses your neck. "God, you smell wonderful." Jay moves to kiss the other side. "Not that I mind this lovely welcome, but what's the occasion?"

"You don't remember?" You look to your side without moving away from his embrace.

Jay frowns, "What? I didn't forget your birthday, did I?" He jokes.

You turn around, resting your hip on the bathroom counter. One of your eyebrows raises, full of judgment.

"I'm pretty sure it is not our anniversary?" Jay asks meekly.

Now both of your eyebrows turn into an arch.

"Well, I'm sorry I don't remember," In an attempt at his apology, Jay brings your hands to his lips. "Please..."

"I have this invite from The Tribune, a dinner party for their contributors," You let go of his hands. Turning back to face the mirror, you put on the last touch of your makeup. "I told you about this, right? They invited me since I am writing for their music column now."

"Ah, yes," Jay grimaces. "That is tonight?"

"Yeah. I thought you were here early because you remembered."

"Sorry," Jay shrugs his shoulders. "I was going to take you to the Chop House. The team is celebrating Voight’s birthday tonight."

"Wasn’t it like a few weeks ago? I remembered sending him a bottle of malt for a gift." You glance at Jay's reflection in the mirror as you put on a pair of earrings.

"It was, but we haven’t had the chance to celebrate it until tonight."

"Well, I guess we have to skip his party then." You usher Jay and walk with him to step out of the bathroom.

"Let’s go to Chop House first, just to say hi. Then we will go to your party." Jay proposes his plan.

You scoff at his idea. "It is not my party. It is the Chicago Tribune Contributors Dinner." You sit carefully on the couch before putting on a pair of red strappy heels. "It is a formal dinner, Jay. Suit and tie and invites and all." You gesture to your whole look from top to toe. "You cannot be as late as you want."

You stand up and continue your ranting. "Seriously, I don’t know why I expect any difference this time. It is such a classic thing Jay Halstead would do. You always think about your team first. Everything else comes second."

"Hey, that’s not true!" Jay snaps back. "Look, I’m sorry I forgot about your dinner invites, but it doesn’t mean I care more about my job than about you." Jay is perplexed to find out how dinner invitations could turn into spats. Is it so unforgivable to forget something?

"I tried, Jay. I tried as much as I could to understand that your job comes first. I accepted that your team is your family. I get it, Jay! I wish you could give me even a tiny part of that same devotion you have for them."

"Well, it seems you understand nothing, huh, Y/N?" Jay gets provoked by the high tension. "Because all I heard here is that you complained about all the time spent at my job. Do you want to talk about my work? Then I should have brought about your job in the first place." Jay points his finger in your direction. "I never say anything when you have gone abroad for weeks to make some music and million dollars. So maybe, it is you who is not devoted to this relationship."

You feel enraged by his accusation. You wanted to fight back, but fighting with words is not your best forte. You would only end up choking and crying, which you have no time for now.

"You know what? I cannot do this with you right now." You check your purse. "I’m almost late. Please send my apologies to your team." You grab a coat on your way out. "Don't forget to lock up when you go."

With that, you leave the house and your angry boyfriend in it.

◢◤

“What are you doing here? I thought you had an important dinner date with your Dancing Queen?” Hailey asks Jay when he comes to the steak house by himself.

"Stop calling her that." Jay scolds his partner.

"Well, she danced, and she acted like a diva. I'm just calling what I'm seeing." Hailey shrugs.

"You never saw her dance, you liar!" Jay laughs. "For a DJ, she is an awful dancer."

"But you agree that she is a diva wannabe," Hailey points out what Jay left out.

"No, she is not. Just because she is the only famous musician you met doesn't mean she is a diva." Jay rolls his eyes. "You should give her a chance, Hailey. You keep offending her like this without getting to know her personally. It is not fair, you know?" Jay defends his girlfriend.

"Well, if she were here now, I would." Hailey takes a sip of her beer.

“No, you would not,” Jay calls out her bullshit.

“No, I probably wouldn’t,” Hailey admits with a cunning grin. “So you bailed on the dinner date, huh?”

“It was more like I forgot. But apparently, that is a punishable crime.” Jay frowns in disgust.

“Ah, lovers’ quarrel. I will not touch that with a ten-foot pole." Hailey raises her hands. “You guys are fun to watch, like a teenage drama. Sickeningly sweet in one episode, then broke up in the next one.”

Jay rolls his eyes, “We are not breaking up. We are just having a spat.”

“The fact that you pointed it out makes you sound like a teenage boy,” Hailey teases him. “Relax. The thing about a diva is that they are fickle. By tomorrow, you will be madly in love again."

“Ergh, I don’t know why I bother to talk to you about this.” Jay waves his hand, terminating their conversation. "You are not helping,"

◢◤

Two hours into the event, you are getting bored already. The party is fun, and the food is alright, but your heart's not in it. Mostly, it was because you left home with a bitter taste of fighting with your boyfriend. Deep down, you understand that you are not being fair to Jay. His job is hard on your relationship, but your frequent trips abroad for your job are also not easy to handle. Neither of you nor Jay is entitled to feel singled out. This evening spat was just you losing grip of your insecurity, and you lashed it out at Jay.

However, you are too upset to admit that you are in the wrong as much as Jay. Right now, your fight response still runs high. It is almost 9.30 PM. It would be too late to visit your usual jiu-jitsu dojo. The one near Grant Park might still be open, though, you remind yourself. Sparring for an hour and a half would be good before you face Jay. That way, you hope to get rid of any negative energy. Then, you can talk to Jay more openly.

You leave the party around 10 PM. Instead of calling a cab, you walk to the bus stop. There is a gas station and a minimarket across the street. You decide to drop by for a bar of chocolate. It is far from the artisan dark chocolate you have at home, but you always have this craving for chocolate at an upsetting moment. Chocolates, and physical fights, are now becoming your antidepressant.

You smile at the middle-aged guy at the cash register who hands you your purchase. The bell above the door clinks as three guys step into the store. They go straight to the alcohol section.

The guy at the register sighs loudly. He looks about the same age as Jay’s brother, Will, but the suffering on his face might add a few years more. “Delinquents,”

You nod your understanding and offer him another smile in farewell. “Have a good night,”

The street is pretty deserted as you walk to the bus stop. Not a lot of people walk around. There are only a couple of cars passing by. You open and take a bite of the chocolate bar, waiting for your bus to come. You notice the guys are leaving the store with beer bottles in their hands. They cross the street and hang around the bus stop.

Before long, the catcalls begin.

“Where are you going, long legs?” One of them asks you. “Those heels, woohoo. I could climb those legs forever,”

Ignoring them should be the right way to go, you think. As the wind picks up, you tighten your coat to warm yourself.

“I wonder, what's under the coat? What do you think, dude?” The punks talk to each other.

“Tight dress,”

“Lace,”

“Nothing, maybe?”

"Eeeey!" They trade high fives and cackles, supporting the others' wild imaginations. All while they are stepping closer to where you stand.

From across the street, you hear the cash register guy shout, “Hey, leave her alone, you scoundrel!”

You understand how this looks. Some crooks are harassing a woman. People with high morals will try to help, of course. It is normal to assume a young woman will be helpless. But this time, they have the wrong assumption. Because as far as you can see, there are no vulnerable women around here.

Honestly, you feel giddy. You might not have to go to the dojo for a fight after all.

“What are you gonna do, old man?” One of the punks challenges him. He dares to grab your ass, taunting the cash register guy.

Yes, you got your fight! You are fist-pumping internally.

In a blink of an eye, the guy who touches you drops down on the pavement, holding his hand in pain. His friends look shocked for a moment. But being beaten down by a girl would be embarrassing.

“You, bitch!”

Naturally, they quickly strike back.

The fight is pretty one-sided. Three street thugs are no match for one jiu-jitsu purple belt. A throw down this way. Another sweep that way. One chokehold here. Lock that arm there. If they resist, then broken bones are unavoidable. It is not your fault that they decide to disturb a woman who just happened to be a jiu-jitsu student.

Until the punk that first went down gets back up to point a gun at you.

You let out a groan, “Seriously?” You hate guns. It is not because you are afraid of them or have any doubt about your bare hand fighting skill. You know it would only take you five seconds to unarm that guy. But firearms are loud and they tend to get messy. The ringing in your ears, the smell of powder residues, not to mention the blood stains. Ughh.

You make a side step forward as the man pulls the trigger. A slight miscalculation on your side allows the bullet to graze your arm. But in 20 seconds, the gun finds its way to your hand. The previous holder of the gun is down on the pavement with his palm under your pointy heels. The guy yells in pain, calling all deities and dirty words in the same sentence.

“Drop the gun!” You look up to find a cop car on the side of the road, and two police officers point their guns at you. “Drop the gun and show your hands!” The officer repeats.

You release the magazine from the gun before tossing it to the ground. That skill you learn not from the dojo but instead from your boyfriend. One of the officers then moves to secure your hands behind your back with cuffs.

“Oww,” You moan once you feel the wound on your arm.

◢◤

Trudy Platt is doing a crossword puzzle at her station when she sees a couple of her patrol officers bring a familiar face into the station. She stops the officers on their way, “Hey, Reyez, what happened here?”

“Dispatch called for a possible assault at South Western Avenue. Found this lady beating down three guys. All of them were at The Med now. One was unconscious. Another one ended up with a broken arm. The other’s leg was…” The officer shivers as he remembers the abnormal angle the guy’s leg was.

“Have you asked her to explain what happened?”

“She refused to talk outside this specific precinct, Sarge,” Officer Harris answers the sergeant.

Platt throws a disbelieving look at her officers and you.

“Hi, Sergeant Platt,” You grin at Trudy. “I’d wave, but…” You wiggle as much as you can, being restrained by Officer Harris.

“Why, you little diva,” Platt sighs out loud. She returns to her desk to make a phone call.

“Should I continue to process her, Sarge?” Officer Reyez asks.

Sgt. Platt waves her hand dismissively, “Just put her in the holding cell for now,”

◢◤

The ringing of Voight's cell phone interrupts the laughter at their table. Their meals have been polished by now. They are still around for glasses of wine, fingers of bourbon, and lots and lots of beer. They might've as well moved to a bar, but they're too full to get up from their chairs.

"Voight," The leader answers his phone. The team watches him, hoping they don't get called for a case.

Voight listens in silence for a few moments until he lets out an "Excuse me?" in an indignant tone. "What was that again?"

It seems the person on the phone repeats the same message because Voight shakes his head as if to disagree. "Okay, just stay put. We'll be right there,"

"Please don't tell me we got a case, Sarge. My ribeye has not fully digested yet," whines Adam as he pats his stomach.

"No, no. We're still on stand down. It's just Platt needed me back at the station," Voight pushes himself out of the chair. He opens his wallet and hands his credit card to Kim. "One more round, then wrap this up. Can't let you alcoholics break my wallet," The team laughs at him. Voight nods his head in Jay's direction. "Halstead, you need to come with me,"

"Sarge?" Jay stands up from his chair, confused.

"Good night, guys. See you tomorrow," Voight waves goodbye and leaves the table. He doesn't wait to see if Jay follows him. Voight expects him to.

Jay looks around questioningly at the table. However, the rest of the team is as perplexed as him.

"Go." Hailey ushers him to follow their leader. "Give us a call if you need help,"

"Hopefully you won't, but yeah, man, let us know if you need anything," Adam echoes the sentiment.

Jay quickly catches Voight on his way out of the restaurant.

"You good to drive, Halstead?" Voight asks him.

"Legally? Probably, no. But, I'm good, Sarge," Jay admits to his leader. He might be a little tipsy, but he drove in a worse state before, and it was fine.*)

"Okay then, meet me back at the station," Voight orders him. "Safely, Jay," He emphasizes his point.

"Yes, sir. Can I ask what this is about, Sarge?" Jay cannot hold his curiosity.

"I'll tell you when we get to the precinct," Voight leaves Jay with that.

◢◤

"Ah, good, you're here," Trudy greets them from her desk as soon as she sees Voight and Halstead. She hands a piece of paper for them to read.

Jay widens his eyes as he reads the report, "What the fuck is this?"

"You sort it out. It's not like I have no other papers to file anyway," Platt waves them to the holding cell direction.

"Sarge, this cannot be true, right?" Jay questions his boss.

"Let's ask Y/N," Voight leads them to the temporary cell.

They walk inside the precinct and stop in front of the iron bars. There is only one person there, and it's you.

"Y/N!" Jay calls your name. "You okay?"

"Hi, Jay! Fancy seeing you here. I'm great! Bullet wound and all," You grin from the bench inside the holding cell. "Oh, good evening, Sergeant Voight," You wave to the elder man.

"If you don't want to come to my birthday dinner, you should've said so, Y/N. No need to make some fuss with this arrest." Voight quips.

You snort a laugh, "Sorry, sir."

"Can we not joke about this? I thought you were at the Tribune party, Y/N. Why are you on the street getting shot and beating people up?" Jay sounds agitated.

"Well, they were bothering me with the catcalls. It was creepy as hell. Then one of them got physical. So I got physical too, you know what I mean?" You shrug your shoulders.

"Yeah, I know. I read the report," Jay huffs in exasperation.

"In an actual, official report? Oh, wow. I didn't expect that." You sound impressed with yourself.

"Of course, there is a report. You almost killed three men!! Do you understand that??" Jay is getting more hysterical.

"Almost is the operative word," You calmly point out.

Jay pinches his nasal bones in distress. "Can I get her out of here, Sarge?" He finally asks Voight.

Voight watches their banter with his hands in his pockets. He takes a moment to ponder.

"Hey, Y/N. What brought up this urge to kill?" Voight questions you.

"Sir?" You don't catch what he meant.

"I know you hold a purple belt. You practice jiu-jitsu a lot. Usually, you are more patient and tolerant than this," Voight elaborates. "So, I asked again, what happened tonight?"

You know what happened tonight. Pent up frustration at Jay and at yourself that has been left unsolved. If you didn't leave the house angry at your partner, you probably would not have to spend the night in a police station.

You keep your mouth shut, not interested in letting Voight know the truth. You look down at your feet, breaking eye contact with the sergeant. Your feet are bare since the officers asked you to take your heels off. Assault weapons, they said. You stepped your weight on someone's palm and broke their fingers along the way. Killer heels indeed.

Jay also decides to look away from you and Voight. The sergeant notices this. So both of them understand the reason, which clued him in on why this happened.

"I see how it is," Voight exhales. "Alright, I give you an out this one time, Y/N. Next time you beat thugs on the street, try harder not to kill them, okay? Refrain yourself to bump and bruises only,"

Jay gapes at his leader, "Sarge!" He cannot believe Voight is validating your violent action.

You throw a half smile at Voight, "Thank you, sir,"

"And make sure you come to the next team hangout, whenever that happens." Voight continues his order.

"I'll try, Sarge,"

"No, no. Don't just try. You have to be there," Voight corrects you. "First third rounds shall be on you. That's the least you can do after crashing my party," Voight then leaves the couple to sort that damn paper Platt has on her desk.

Jay goes with him to find the officer who holds the cell key. When he gets the door open, he notices your feet are bare. "Where're your shoes?"

"Don't know," You shake your head. "Evidence, maybe?"

"What the fuck are your shoes doing in Evidence?" Jay mutters as he steers you to Sgt. Platt's desk.

"You need to sign this," Trudy pushes some papers towards you. "And these are the rest of your belongings,"

First, Trudy puts a plastic bag that holds your purse and its content. You only bring your phone, your ID and a few notes. They are all there.

Then she follows with your shoes. You groan in regret at the sight of your poor shoes. One of the heels broke. The intricate strappings are all snapped and tangled. You have no idea if they are salvageable.

"They are my favorite stilettos," You pout.

"Should have thought twice before aiming that blade into someone's hand," Trudy tells you straight, sans empathy.

She finally puts the last item on her desk, which is your coat.

The coat has a new decoration now. There is one bullet hole in the left upper arm. You remember being grazed by a bullet earlier this night. A paramedic tended your wound at the crime scene. You can still feel the twinge at the bandaged arm even now.

Your eyes begin to tear up upon seeing the state of the outerwear. It was a gift from your dear friend who took his own life a few years ago. It saddened you to find his last gift was ripped by common thugs on the street. It felt like you tainted his memories for something mundane and avoidable. If only you agreed with Jay this evening, none of these would happen. You quickly wipe the corner of your eyes before the tears fall.

Jay doesn't miss that. Without saying anything, he brings you into a hug. Jay never met that friend, but he knows how important he was to you. His sudden departure shook you hard. It made you stop working for months. Until Jay forced you to speak, telling him how you feel, what your thoughts about it. They discussed how to move forward. How wilting away in sorrow was disrespectful to that friend’s life and legacy. Only then you were willing to enter your studio to make music again.

"Shh, it's okay, Love. You're okay," Jay whispers sweet nothings in your ears. He peppers your head with comforting kisses. "We can fix it," Jay promises. You know that he is not just talking about the torn coat.

Not knowing the story behind the coat, Trudy asks rudely, “What? Was it a $30k coat? Yeah, I would cry over that too,"

Above your head, Jay glares at Trudy’s insensitivity. Instead of being sad, her comment makes you laugh. You let go of Jay’s embrace and put on the holey coat. “Nah. If the coat were that expensive, those guys would be dead already,” You retort.

“New house rule! No more violence from you except at the dojo!” Jay points a finger in your direction, enforcing his words. “No assaults, no slaughters, especially over a piece of clothes!”

“We’ll see about that, babe. We’ll see…” You pat him on the shoulders, unconvinced by his rule.

“I don’t need to know your household issue. Get out of here, you rascals!” Trudy shoos them out of the precinct.

◢◤

At home, you and Jay are back in the bathroom. Still wearing your party dress, you sit on the closed toilet. Jay crouches next to you as he repatches your bullet wound.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jay whispers when he sees you wincing.

“I think that is my line,” You tell him.

“Huh?” Jay asks, distracted as he tightens the bandage. “All done,” His face is still hovering around your shoulder, checking his handiwork.

You look to your left. Without prompts, you catch Jay's lips in a kiss.

“I’m sorry,” You murmur. “for tonight. I should not be angry at you for such trivial things,”

Jay shakes his head, “No, I’m sorry I forgot. I should have paid better attention to you and our relationship,”

“I didn’t mean it when I said those things. I was just upset. Not a great excuse, but I’m still sorry. I know you are in this 100%.” You tell him, still in a quiet tone. As if increasing your voice would break the mood. “And so am I. Please, believe me,” You grab his hands to convince him.

Jay shushes you, “I know. I should not accuse you like that. I know it was wrong, I’m sorry. You should know that I have never doubted you, your love, or your commitment,” He presses his lips to yours in assurance. “Ever.”

You twitch your lips, smiling, “I guess both of us have apologized and forgiven, then?”

Jay nods, “Uh huh. You know what to follow, right?” He replies with an indecent grin.

“I’m not sure,” You play along. “You better show me what it is,” You wrap your hands above Jay’s shoulders, placing your palms behind his neck.

Jay pulls you up to your feet. His hands wander from your back to your hips. “I will. As soon as I find the damned zipper on this dress.”

+x Taglist +x

@lorenakaspersen @life-treatments @itsdesiree86

PSA: Please don't drive under influence no matter what the circumstance is!!!

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fic #chicago pd fic #chicago pd tv #jay halstead #reader #hailey upton #hank voight #trudy platt #fanfiction #one shot #wyftiiffy

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years ago

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Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin:

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up? [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊 [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day? [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you? [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far [10:27 AM]

Y/N:

Jimin: LOL [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈 [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice? [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough? [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never! [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again? [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th [11:04 AM]

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans? [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊 [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date? [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

��Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts series #bts writing #jimin series #jimin writing #bts dance au #jimin dance au

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 123

It feels really good to be back writing and posting, I’m going to be super honest. Thank you again, to everyone who reads and leaves notes on these chapters. You keep me going and encourage me more than you will ever know.

This was originally going to be one chapter, but it went really really long and I didn’t have the heart to leave parts out. Even splitting it in half, each half is longer than most of the chapters so far. But I couldn’t help showing how far the Ark has come from simply “figuring out how to exist”! In my defense, @baelpenrose egged me on, too. Blame him. :P

Shout out to @zommbiebro, @charlylimph-blog, @books-and-cartoons, all the other contributors for characters in this chapter. INCLUDING @werewolf2578 for Michael Smith, who finally makes his debut here. Finally.

As Maverick and I entered the gymnasium - now larger and more finished than it had been when Arthur and Jokul’s showdown happened several years back - the atmosphere was filled with excitement. Three Terran years previous, collapsible bleachers had been constructed shortly after sporting and skill exhibitions had regained popularity on-par with Pre-End times, and today was one such occasion. Every seat was packed, and Miys was working overtime in multiple bodies, strategically positioned to keep the air filtered. Else-chicks swarmed on the floor, eagerly consuming anything that had been spilled or dropped.

Today, Jokul and Arthur were once again on the floor, in full view of the crowd. Instead of a bloody one-on-one, no holds barred fight, however, they were two of twenty participants in a weapons exhibition. Between them, Charly bounced on the balls of her feet, scanning the audience - a smile here and there when a container of neon popcorn caught her eye, but a huge grin along with extra bouncing and an enthusiastic wave when she saw our small group. She elbowed Arthur, who was deep in conversation with Tyche and Coffey on his other side. All three turned to wave.

“Where’s Conor?” Maverick asked, searching the floor carefully.

I shrugged. “He may be on his way, or in another room, stretching. You know he isn’t a huge fan of crowds this large.”

With a huff, he blew a lock of hair out of his face. “I know it’s his first one of these things, but he’ll be fine. He’s gotten really good. Even Charly and Tyche said so.”

Evania Josue took the floor and gestured for silence, indicating that the exhibition was starting. “Thank you, everyone who could be here in person, and everyone watching from other areas of the Ark, and welcome to our second Von-annual ranged weapons exhibition. As with last time, combustion weapons will not be used in any of our events, for safety reasons. We will continue with our order from the previous event, and begin with axe-throwing.”

Cheers erupted, and Tyche, Coffey, and Arthur took their seats on the sidelines. Charly, Jokul, and three other less-familiar faces waved to us as they were introduced, before drawing lots for the order they would go in. One of the people I didn’t recognize went first, and made a pretty good showing - all six axes hit their targets, regularly striking midway to the bullseye from a distance I could barely hit the floor from. Charly was second, and Maverick clenched my arm tight enough to make me wince - she was the smallest competitor in this event, but the entire crowd went deathly silent as she lined up the first target.

Thunk. Bullseye, and buried deep.

Thunk. Just left of center.

Thunk. Another bullseye.

Three more axes led to one more bullseye and two just to the right of center. The crowd exploded into cheers, only going quiet as the next person stepped forward. It was another solid execution, but not quite in the same level of skill that Charly had demonstrated.

Jokul was last, and as soon as he stepped forward, you could hear a pin drop. No one even dared breathe, lest they missed out on what they hoped they were about to witness. Sure enough, Jokul stood three feet to the left of the first table holding an axe, and started walking at a calm pace. Without breaking stride, he would grab an axe and suddenly it would appear in the center of the target. No windup, no careful lining up of his throws, just ten paces, six axes, and six bullseyes.

Screaming erupted from the entire gymnasium, to the point that Miys was covering their sensory organs. Charly was red in her face from cheering, and I honestly could not blame her - it was one of the most impressive things I had seen, and never ceased to amaze me. Even Arthur was nodding in approval and applauding.

The cheering died down to a murmur of discussion as the athletes took their bows and the equipment was removed. Charly and Jokul both took seats on the sidelines, while the other three left the floor entirely, indicating they had no other events. The next event was slung projectiles, which neither Maverick nor I was remotely interested in.

He leaned closely so he wouldn’t distract anyone. “So, I’ve been wondering this for a while now… Those axes are pretty heavy, right?”

I nodded. I had tried throwing them, but they were close to two pounds in Terran gravity - worse in Von-standard, and obviously front-heavy.

“So, to throw them that fast, Jokul has to have a lot of arm strength, right?”

Another nod.

“How did Charly get up after he punched her?”

I sighed. I’d wondered where he was going with this. “First, he pulled the punch. Second, it was an awkward hit because he was aiming for me. Third, with two cracked ribs and a whole lot of ‘Charly’ involved.”

“So necromancy,” Maverick nodded seriously.

“I can neither confirm nor deny, except that she popped up like he hit her with a pillow.” I shook his knee as something caught my eye. “There! There he is!”

Conor was finally visible, crouched and in discussion with Tyche. From the way he was running his hand through his hair, he was clearly nervous. She just shook her finger at him with a serious expression, and whatever she said made him laugh and shake his head. Probably a death threat, I figured.

He was just in time, as the next exhibition was knife-throwing. I don’t know if Evan was rigging the lots, but once again the most anticipated participant - this time Tyche - was last. Instead, someone I recognized as Michael Smith was first. Standing from beside Grandma Kim, he gave an emphatic command to the chocolate labradoodle at his feet and took center stage.

The knife throwing event was ten knives, one target, and timed as well as scored by where the knives landed. I knew from previous events that Michael preferred throwing knives with a hilt, which made the balance off center. Nonetheless, all his hits were dead-center and solid, even if he telegraphed his throws a bit much for my liking.

Next was Arthur, who made a show of his one-upmanship by finishing faster and with less obvious movement. He patted Conor on the shoulder and said something to reassure him as Conor stood for his turn.

The crowd started murmuring as Conor turned toward his target, back on full display. Rather than pulling his knives from his hip, or picking them up from a table, Conor had found it easier for him to actually keep them slung across his shoulders and drew them like arrows. I had never seen anything like it, but Coffey had suggested it soon after Conor decided to follow mine and Tyche’s footsteps. And while his display wasn’t the fastest, or the most accurate, he drew some fascinated chatter from the crowd when switched hands after the fifth knife, with no change in speed or precision.

When he finished, there was enthusiastic applause but none louder than our family. Coffey’s voice boomed out, even louder than mine, to congratulate him before they traded places. Once again, there was hushed chatter as Coffey drew over his shoulder, this time trading off hands with every single knife, and breathless applause when he finished with a tighter cluster than Conor had. He smiled, but his eyes were all for Charly, who was next.

The crowd hardly had time to focus before she started letting blades loose. As fast as she could grab one, it was flying behind the last one, covering the bullseye by the time she was done. With a flourish, she took a bow that left us all laughing and cheering. She danced over to the sidelines, sweeping one more bow for Tyche to take the floor.

As soon as Tyche stood, the air crackled with excitement. In the same way that everyone watched the axe-throwing to see Jokul, all eyes were on my sister for this event. As though she was utterly oblivious to this fact, she strode to her marker. She was still mid-stride when she brushed her hair out of her face and let the first knife fly from the same hand.

Bullseye.

Brushing off her legs saw two more knives, one after the other, hitting their marks. Then a dagger from her left hip, a tactical knife from one boot, and on and on. Each blade came from a different spot, no two the same size or shape. All hit their marks, and all without a single indication of exertion. The only indication that she finished was when she dropped her hands and tilted her head, studying the tight pattern on the target. My datapad indicated that she had matched Arthur’s time and close strikes.

When she turned to sit back down, everyone’s brains caught up and the expected cheers deafened us again. As soon as she reached her seat, Arthur and Charly stood by some unspoken agreement and made ridiculous sweeping bows to her, only encouraging the audience to cheer harder.

Evania stepped forward again, to let everyone know that there would be a twenty minute intercession. The next events needed more intensive preparation, which allowed friends and family to take some time to talk with the participants. Sure enough, the second I was in earshot, I could hear Tyche complaining.

“I got much tighter patterns than that in practice,” she moaned.

Conor, head resting on both hands, shook his head in disbelief. “If you think you were bad, I feel I’m hopeless.”

That had the exact reaction everyone saw coming, as she whirled around in righteous fury. “Conor MacMaoilir-Reid-Okima, I have been throwing any knife I could get my grubby paws on since I was four. You started three years ago. I taught you, Sophia taught you, Coffey taught you. Your throwing has an exceptional pedigree and if I hear you talk about giving up, I’ll… I’ll…”

“Let me use you for target practice,” Arthur intoned, half-joking.

“No!” she insisted. “I’ll let Simon use you for target practice!”

“I’d be safe as houses, if he was aiming for me. Poor guy couldn’t hit the floor with a knife if he dropped it.”

“She never said with knives,” I added wickedly, causing his head to snap up and his face to pale.

“Sophie. Please, that’s cruel.”

I waved him off. “Oh, as if he would ever actually aim for you. If Simon had to hunt for his food, he’d be a vegetarian, I swear.”

Rolling his eyes, Maverick stepped into the fray. “Conor, you did really well. You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t. And it’s not like this is a competition, you were literally invited to just show off what you can do.”

“I still don’t know why… Coff over there clearly did better.”

A dazzling smile flashed as Coffey turned from his conversation with Charly. “Ah, but we are the only two who use that technique! Showing it off here means others may be interested in learning later.”

Hair flew as Charly nodded. “And besides, I could never get the hang of pulling a knife like that. My brain says ‘arrow’, and it’s just confusing.”

I was nodding in agreement and gesturing for Maverick to take Arthur’s seat, when something wet nudged my ankle.

“Sparkles. Heel.”

I turned to see Michael Smith and Grandma Kim had joined us. Unable to resist, I knelt to pet the dogs that accompanied them. “GK, Lyric II is looking more and more like her mom every day.” A muzzle streaked with white fur poked my hand. “Hey there, girl,” I whispered, blinking hard. Lyric was already ten when we were all brought to the Ark, and Hujylsogox medicine could only do so much for dogs. Permission had been given for her to have one pup, to be trained as both a service and a protection animal, in preparation.

Michael’s animal looked to him for permission before joining in the ear scratches I was dishing out. He was one of the very few certified service animal trainers on the Ark, so when Lyric II was born, so was Sparkles, with the intention that they grow up and train as a working team. Michael’s past was extremely blank and sketchy, but something about him reminded me of both Arthur and Xiomara. The fact that both of them respected him made me both at ease and suspicious at the same time.

I pushed that out of my mind and focused on the pile of fur before me, begging for belly rubs. “What events are left?”

“The security animal events have been added to this one, to allow time for the other participants to rest more, and then archery, spear/javelin, and thrown projectiles.”

I shook my head at ‘thrown projectiles’, but Charly was the one to speak. “I can’t believe we made a sport out of rock throwing.” When mouths started to open to correct her, she held up both hands and glared. “I mean ‘we’ like ‘people’, not ‘we’ like ‘the Ark’. I am well aware that humans have been killing things by throwing rocks forever. Don’t shoot me.”

“That’s a different exhibition,” Maverick pointed out, eliciting a groan from several people. “What!? It is!”

“I think she would beg to differ.” Tyche pointed to Charly, who looked like she was about to explode.

“Oh, right. Archery - “

“You are IN that event, how could you forget!?” she finally erupted, more out of confusion than anything resembling anger.

“I learned firearms first?” he begged.

Charly grunted and scrunched her face. “Fine. I can accept that as a semi-reasonable excuse.”

I shook my head at their antics. Despite years of watching the two goof around, it was always adorable to watch men twice her size cower from the feisty ball of energy.

She was still teasing him. “I still think you owe me an apology.”

“Charly, I’m sorry,” he sighed with no real sincerity behind it.

“Mmmm, not good enough.” She tapped her chin with her finger and took out an eye-scorchingly yellow candy bar - which, by now I knew was just chocolate and caramel, but was still cringeworthy to watch. “I think…. You should make me dumplings.”

“Those take forever,” he whined, kneeling and clasping his hands. “You always want them from scratch.”

“They taste better from scratch,” she pointed out around a bite of her snack.

Tyche nodded. “They really do.”

And there it was. He was defeated, as our entire family stared at him in anticipation. With a heavy air, he hung his head. “Fine,” came the mumbled reply. “What kind?”

Quiet cheers sounded, along with fist bumps and in one case money exchanging hands. “Chicken and veg, pork and veg, and seafood,” Charly cackled.

I was pretty sure I was the only one who could hear Maverick mutter “I just got so played…”

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#the miys #humans are weird #humans will try anything #humans are space orcs #weapons #skill #service animals #found family #aliens #apocalypse #post-apocalypse #science fiction #sci fi #scifi #original science fiction #original sci fi #hfy

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birbleafs · 4 years ago

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[fic] A Tragicomedy In Five Acts

Series: Saiki Kusuo no Ψ-nan || The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. Rating: T Genre: Friendship, Humour, Breaking the Fourth Wall Character(s): Akechi Touma, Saiki Kusuo, Saiki Kurumi, Saiki Kuniharu, Saiki Kuusuke Warnings: None, save for the canon-typical shenanigans Summary: Akechi has made a habit of showing up unannounced, uninvited at the Saiki residence. The inevitable "bonding" occurs and Kusuo despairs; the world continues to turn. A/N: A piece I wrote for the Disastrous Life Zine, a charity zine. I wanted to share the uncut version here since I like how it reads more (it's not too different from zine version, though). Leftover sales are currently still live, so here's your last chance to grab some limited items if you had missed the pre-orders earlier! Thanks to the mods & other contributors over at @disastrouslifezine, for all their hard work on this project. Many thanks also to my bro Digi for the awesome beta work and for always being an all-round great pal ❤ Fic can also be read AO3. _______ i. It’s a problem Saiki Kusuo should have—could have—nipped earlier in the bud, when he’d been forced to spend a whole Sunday with Akechi Touma betting on horse-racing. But between Akechi being (begrudgingly) accepted as one of the PK Psychickers to Kusuo having to stop a meteor from slamming into the planet—well, a lot had happened. Akechi had since taken to visiting the Saiki residence at random, with little notice in advance. On his second visit, Mom had invited him in before Kusuo could intervene. If it weren’t for the cupcakes Akechi had brought along—not to mention the terrifying heat of Mom’s demonic glare at the first sign of a protest—Kusuo would have teleported him miles away without hesitation. That’s how Kusuo finds himself now—glowering at Akechi who’s sitting politely in his room and firing a running commentary about nothing and too many things all at once. Resigned, he leans back into his study chair and asks, point-blank: What do you want, Akechi?

“Your mother is lovely as always,” Akechi replies instead, dancing around the question. “I’m grateful she’s gone from remembering me as ‘Pee Boy’ to ‘Kusuo’s Friend Who Only Ever Wets His Pants Occasionally’. Surely that’s a sign we have gotten closer.” It sounds just as terrible as the first—only a simpleton would be okay with that as a defining trait, Kusuo retorts. In any case, we’re hardly more than classmates. So, why are you here again? “I thought you would have realized it by now with your telepathy. But I suppose I can explain it for the sake of the readers!” Akechi beams, holding up a small case in his hand. Don’t just casually break the fourth wall, Kusuo frowns, even as he leans forward for a closer look. Akechi pops the case open and turns towards the game console. “I was recently gifted this game by my cousin, who assured me that, while underrated, it’s still a cult hit among fans. I thought it would be fun to play it together.” Kusuo stares flatly at the title OVERWORKED displayed on the disc as it slides into the console drive, already unimpressed. That is such a blatant rip-off. “Oh, no, it's a completely different game from the one you’re thinking of!” Akechi says. “Here you play as the overworked waiter of a cafe who serves multiple orders at once and takes over the cooking whenever the head chef throws a tantrum and storms right off.” How is that different from OVERC***ED? It is totally OVERC***ED! “Regardless, shall we have a play-off?” Akechi offers the controller to him. “Winner gets this box of cupcakes. I got them from the best pâtisserie in town, which is no easy feat. Why just this morning I left home at the crack of dawn to secure a spot in the queue, and even then, there were already about 30-odd people ahead of me! Who knew it was so popular—A-ah!” Kusuo yanks the controller easily from Akechi’s hand towards him with telekinesis, a glint of determination in his eyes now. Best two out of three levels. Loser also has to leave immediately. Akechi grins knowingly and cracks his knuckles, reaching for the second controller. “You’re quick to assume victory, Kusuo-kun. Very well, then!” Thirty-seven minutes later and Kusuo’s left staring at the final scores, appalled. He would have won if his character hadn’t kept freezing in place and glitching at crucial moments, messing up in the kitchens and sending out wrong orders. How is he always losing to Akechi like this? Clearly the universe is still conspiring against him. “You were so close to beefing my lask score dhoo,” Akechi says shamelessly through a mouthful of strawberry frosting. “And my, deez fupfakes are s’per dhasty!” Are you taunting me now? Kusuo scowls enviously at the cupcake in Akechi’s hand before he huffs, slinking back into his chair. Well, I’ll be staring dejectedly out my window for a bit, so feel free to eat your cupcakes and then leave. But Akechi only laughs then and, to Kusuo’s surprise, moves to place a chocolate cupcake before him. “You’re so melodramatic, Kusuo-kun. I never said the winner can’t share.” ... I guess you didn’t. They spend the rest of the afternoon eating cupcakes. _______ ii. This again? It’s been a month, but Kusuo already feels a sense of gloom settling over him when Akechi steps into the genkan. He would have been fine with leaving Akechi outside blathering away through closed doors for the entire day while he pretended not to be home, but obviously Mom is having none of that. “I’m so glad you’ve been coming over to play with Ku-chan!” she greets cheerfully. “I couldn’t believe it when I first heard, but you and Kusuo are getting along well, huh, Akechi-kun!” Dad says with a sagely nod, looking every bit the part of the morally upright, reliable father. Bold of you to believe such delusional notions of camaraderie, or that you even look the part of an admirable adult, Kusuo comments drily, before turning to leave. “We don’t just get along,” Akechi chimes in reply. “You could even say our friendship is super-califragilisticexpialidocious!” GET OUT. If looks could kill, Kusuo’s current expression is pure genocide. But his parents are already fawning and AH-HYUU-!!-ing at Akechi’s words, tears of joy gushing down their cheeks like an endless waterfall. Kusuo watches in quiet despair as Akechi is readily accepted into their fold with welcomed embraces, a key development in this romantic soap opera. Oi, what’s with the misleading narrative?! We’re not in that kind of fanfic right now! Dad and Akechi hit it off well enough, one thing leads to another, and Kusuo suddenly finds himself roped into playing MECH-O ARENA VR on the WAB station in Dad’s study. Seriously, stop it with the terrible rip-offs of actual games already, Kusuo frowns as he watches Dad’s and Akechi’s characters flitting about on the screen to fight off an incoming attack. “I suppose it’s not very original, is it?” Akechi says, punching the controller buttons in a flurry of movements. “But it’s different enough that we can probably avoid any unwanted copyright lawsuits.” That’s completely beside the point. Dad’s wholly immersed with the game now, so it’s impossible for Kusuo to get rid of Akechi without Dad throwing a childish fuss about losing his new gaming buddy. Not to mention Mom’s uncanny ability to appear with coffee and snacks each time Kusuo had tried to inconspicuously retreat back into his room, all while exuding an ominous aura that effectively dissuaded his need to leave immediately. Good grief—everyone’s being such a pain today, Kusuo sighs, before he finally relents to Mom’s cajoling to team up with her against Dad and Akechi in the final round. He figures it can’t get worse than this anyway. That is, until Kuusuke gets involved. _______ iii. When Kusuo returns home from a quick grocery trip for Mom, he walks into a surprisingly empty living room. He can hear Dad and Kuusuke’s voices from upstairs but for some reason he’s not quite able to perceive the atmosphere within—it’s as if his senses are partially blocked by a cognitive fog with the study engulfed in a dead zone. Must be that prototype “router” Kuusuke had installed in Dad’s study yesterday. Kusuo has zero interest in his brother’s tiresome antics, but is compelled nonetheless to check on them, if only to ensure Kuusuke isn’t playing Mad Scientist and coaxing Dad into yet another deranged human project. He opens the door, nearly lashes out in shock with telekinesis when he sees Akechi staring through the doorway with a creepy, owlish expression. “Oh, were you actually surprised, Kusuo-kun?” Akechi says. “My apologies for frightening you like that.” Kusuo studies the room cautiously, only to realize he’s unable to hear anyone’s thoughts with telepathy. He glares at his brother in suspicion. “Welcome back, little brother!” Kuusuke greets him with a Cheshire grin. “I see you’ve got yourself a new playmate. Hmm? Ah, you must think it strange that I've taken to Akechi-kun so readily.” Strange and highly dubious, Kusuo counters. What are you scheming? “Well, Akechi-kun shows the most potential and capacity for mental growth amongst the lesser primates close to you—” What a disparaging worldview. And stop deflecting! I know you can still understand me. “—So, he may yet make a good test subj—Ah, I mean, a good friend! Interesting specimens tend to gravitate towards you, after all. Though his propensity for peeing sure is troubling, isn’t it? Haha!” You can excuse questionable human experimentations, but you draw the line at incontinence? Kuusuke attempts a nonchalant shrug. “Priorities, amirite?” “But this is amazing, Kuusuke-san,” Akechi says, glancing up in awe at the blinking device on the ceiling. “The telepathy canceller really does block our thoughts efficiently!” “It’s child's play compared to Kusuo’s abilities,” Kuusuke says, seemingly modest, but Kusuo doesn’t miss the devious glint in his eyes when he reaches into his coat pocket to pull out what looks suspiciously like a detonator with a giant red button. “Still, with this, Operation SM☆SH can now finally commence—” Wait, Operation what?? Kuusuke, don’t you dare...! But Kuusuke is already pressing the button, and the study is plunged into darkness as the lights flicker off and the blinds draw shut. Alarmed, Kusuo wrenches the detonator away from Kuusuke’s grip with his telekinesis. What did you just do?! There’s an electronic whirr, a blinding flash, and Kusuo finds himself suddenly staring at a large LCD screen as it emerges from the ceiling. Music blares from overhead speakers as a cinematic opening sequence begins to play. “There you are, Kusuo!” Dad looks up from behind the coffee table where he’d been fiddling with the game console. He adjusts the VR headset over his eyes. “It’s time to finally beat you at SUPER SM☆SH BUDS as payback for last time! HII-YAAAH!!” ... Oh. So it’s just another game. “That’s right!” Kuusuke claps his hands together, blissfully ignoring the heat of Kusuo’s baleful glare. “I heard about your horse-racing bet from Akechi-kun and found this as the best way to even the odds for other types of games.” “The idea came to me while peeing in the shower; to find ways you could play and not get bored easily, Kusuo-kun,” Akechi adds in unnecessary detail. “But I didn’t think Kuusuke-san could actually pull it off.” “Here, Kusuo,” Dad says, waving his controller. “Come choose your character—” But Kusuo’s already teleporting away, fleeing the wretched upheaval within his own home to hide at Cafe Mami for the rest of the day. _______ iv. Akechi corners him after school three weeks later. Kusuo is surprised and unsurprised all at once; he had worn the germanium ring to class, after all, in a bid to avoid spoilers for the direct-to-streaming release movie adaptation of a book he’d been fond of. It’s easy to ignore everyone’s spoilery chatter when it isn’t droning directly into his mind—he’d kept his fingers stuck into his ears each time class ended, oblivious to the strange looks thrown his way, and had even hidden away in the restroom cubicle during breaks, successfully avoiding any interaction with the usual human nuisances. Until now, that is. “Let’s walk home together, Kusuo-kun!” Akechi calls, jogging after him. I’m suddenly deaf and sound has eluded me, Kusuo deadpans as he breaks into a sprint, determined to leave before Akechi starts blabbing spoilers. “I noticed you weren’t quite yourself today,” Akechi continues, catching up with him. “And I thought it might have something to do with the ring on your left index finger that you’ve fondled precisely seventeen times throughout the day.” What an awful way to describe it. I didn’t fondle anything. “Perhaps the material of that ring works in the same manner as the telepathy canceller—which would explain why you seemed uncharacteristically skittish today since you’re pretty bad at discerning people’s intentions without your telepathy.” What are you? A psychic? But Akechi only persists. “I realized later that you’d always leave whenever anyone started talking about that new movie on Netfl*x—” Can’t hear now, Kusuo slaps his hands over his ears. Gone horribly deaf. “And I figured it must be that you haven’t watched it yet for some reason, like maybe your home internet is down because your father forgot to pay the bills for three whole months and so it got cut—” How did you even..? Kusuo grimaces. N-nope, not listening! 100% deaf! “I know you don’t have a mobile phone to watch it on either,” Akechi continues. “So, that’s why I wanted to invite you to my house today, to watch it together. Oh, don’t worry, I know absolutely nothing about the movie. In fact, I’d only heard Kaidou-kun screaming out the title just ten minutes ago.” Kusuo pauses then, glancing back at Akechi in hesitance. Akechi only meets his wary gaze with a knowing smirk, and says, “We also have strawberry shortcake in the fridge.” _______ v. I don’t suppose there’s a good reason this time either, Kusuo sighs wearily, closing his book. Still, there’s a glimmer in his eyes; he knows Akechi had come bearing gifts—a selection of coffee jellies topped with cherries and chocolate drizzle. “I’ve made a habit of crashing your place unannounced, haven’t I?” Akechi offers a contrite grin, watching as Kusuo helps himself to a spoonful of jelly. “I do apologize, but whenever I get restless, I find myself wandering here by instinct. Admittedly, I was worried about being a bother, but your mother is always so welcoming at the door despite that dreary, constipated look in your eyes—” You are being a bother. Like a persistent mosquito that thinks it's summer all year round, Kusuo grouses with his Most Annoyed Expression, knowing how ineffectual his Feigning Ignorance Face had become over time. Also, have you graduated from pee references to shitty jokes now? Disgusting. But Akechi takes it all in stride, undeterred by Kusuo’s ugly grimace and acerbic jibes. “—Plus, it’d be considered extremely rude if I didn’t come in after that, and I certainly do not want you to think of me as rude. You’re a friend I hold in high regard, after all. I always have, ever since I found out it was you who saved me from the bullies back then.” The earnestness in Akechi’s words stumps him, if only a little. And though Kusuo is careful to keep his surprise from showing, there’s a part deep down in his not-so-granite heart that feels a touch of warmth at the sentiment. Akechi’s already placing the Scrabble board on the floor, so he misses the ghost of a smile that crosses Kusuo’s lips. Did Akechi honestly think he could beat a psychic at Scrabble too? How naive. “You’re probably thinking how naive I must be, believing I could beat you at a board game with your powers and all,” Akechi notes cheerfully, almost as if he’s a mind-reader himself. Kusuo frowns, slightly disgruntled by the fourth-wall breaking once more and wishes they would give it a rest for once. Overusing a trope gets really tiring, you know? Still, he smiles again as he takes a seat across from Akechi—who is now shuffling the Scrabble chips while nattering away about the history of board games and how the loser would have to give up his share of coffee jelly (as if Kusuo would allow it to come to that again). Two Sunday visits per month only, Kusuo says, lifting several chips into the air with a wave of his hand. If you beat me... I’ll allow it. Akechi’s eyes widen, before he breaks into a playful grin. “Very well, then. May the best man win.” Kusuo only lets out a soft laugh. Perhaps it’s not too late to pick up where they had left off in grade school. —End—

#saiki kusuo no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki kusuo #akechi touma #disastrous life zine #fanfic #please check out and support the other contributors' pieces too !

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hippychick006 · 5 years ago

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15.13: Destiny’s Child - Episode Review/Recap

[Image of episode missing, because out of 15 photos of the promo, only 1 photo was of Sam and Dean and it wasn’t that good. Other 14 photos were a combination of Ruby, Jo, Castiel and Jack - I shit you not]

I think this episode highlights beautifully many of the issues I and I know a lot of other people are having with the show.

The highlights of the episode are undoubtedly the scenes where AU Sam and Dean interact with our Sam and Dean. This is why I make a big deal of how much they are being paid per episode. Look at what happens when you write for the people earning the quarter of a million dollars in the episode. Look what happens when you have it just be them, with no “fan favourite” side characters to pander to. Chemistry happens, and watering that down or separating it entirely, adding someone into it or trying to force it between characters who just don’t have it, is one of the shows biggest issues in recent seasons and largest contributor to people not watching live or choosing not to watch at all because without that chemistry that made the show special, what are you left with?

Drabbernatural my friends, that’s what you’re left with.

The lowlights of the episode are all the scenes that have been written to pander to a small percentage of the watching audience, so pretty much the rest of the episode in all honesty.

Under a cut because some people are in denial.

THEN

Flashback to Castiel watching porn about a pizza man. All that’s in my head from this is Meg! I think we’re getting Meg (let’s be real, I know we’re getting Meg as it’s already been on my dash, but I would have still thought this regardless of spoilers). There it is, there’s the canon Megstiel kiss 😍. I’m amazed Dabb managed to keep his big mouth shut on this spoiler. Anyway, skip this in the entirety to move onto...

NOW

Loved, loved, loved this opening scene. 🥰. Loved everything about it from start to finish. No complaints whatsoever.

We start with Sam and Dean. Just Sam and Dean like the good old days 😍. I can’t believe how happy that makes me and they haven’t done anything yet.

Sam’s going through the books, Dean’s on the laptop, barely any space between them and they appear to be trying to find where Chuck is. They seem to be having no luck.

Sam: Any sign of him? Dean: Nah, nothing yet. Chucks probably trashing a few dozen universes outside of CNN’s range.

They hear a noise and rush to investigate. They see a bright light filtering through the bottom of the door of one the rooms. As they look at it, the light (as well as the noise) disappears. Instantly in hunter mode, Dean indicates for Sam to open the door and they see…

A tiny car that I thought was a mini but have been reliably informed by someone much more knowledgeable than me (which isn’t too difficult tbh) is a Fiat 500. Thank you @alexa-alcantara. It’s a cute little car, and a beautiful colour but my own experience of owning a Fiat is not a good memory. ��My garage telling me they call them the “Fix It Again Tony” of cars did not help me look any more favourably at them, but on the plus side, I built up a good relationship with my garage from the many hours I spent there. The car is in front of a portal so it’s clear it’s just come through from one of the other worlds.

Emerging from that cute little car is 12’ 6” of muscle in the form of AU Winchesters. The car practically groans in relief (I do see it lift up slightly) as they get out to the tune of “I want you” by Savage Garden.” Thank you once again Shazam as I’m as shit on music as I am at identifying cars.

Did I say I love this scene? I just…love this entire scene. AU Dean’s in the driving seat (of course), We see AU Sam’s foot emerge and he has no socks on – which I’m wondering is a shoutout to that photo shoot they had with no socks. Possibly it’s the fashion right now which I know even less about than cars or music. The entire scene, it’s just… perfection. It’s just so well shot, I love that AU Sam and Dean could not be more different from our Sam and Dean from their clothes to the hair. I’ve fallen in love with both these new characters within a 10 second timeframe and they haven’t even spoken yet! That is the genius of Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles on screen, together, without extras, supported by the entire crew from special effects through to wardrobe. They can all bring their A game which makes it all the more disappointing in the scenes and episodes where they don’t bother.

AU Dean looks back at the portal they came through.

AU SAM: Bro…We did it

AU Sam and Dean fist bump at their success and I’m in danger of losing it. 😂 Side note to size kinkers; that is not Jared and Jensen’s hands there 😂. Hey, no judging from this blog, but I personally don’t consider Jared “huge” and Jensen “tiny”, but you do you.

AU Sam and Dean are too flushed with their own success of getting through the portal to notice our Sam and Dean yet. Meanwhile, our Sam and Dean are looking at the new arrivals with increasing horror.

AU Dean finally notices our Dean and we get the “Sam” “Dean” “Dean” “Sam” exchange between the four of them.

AU Sam and Dean: What the heck? Our Sam and Dean: What the hell?

Somewhere, I’m hoping that there’s an AU world where they say, “What the fuck?” because I think that would really please Jared.

Each look horrified at the other – I think AU!Sam may be on the point of tears seeing his doppelgänger dressed in plaid.

The portal starts making a loud ominous noise, AU Dean says “aw nuts” and AU Sam and Dean look at each other before the portal goes haywire, exploding in a bright white light, causing our versions to shield their eyes. When they look back up, AU Winchesters, the car and the portal have all disappeared and the room is back to normal.

What the Heck? You bring them back right now show! Don’t be bringing in waste of space or “fan favourite” characters when all I want is these two.

Sadly, the show does not listen, and we’re forced against our will onto the next scene.

Sam and Dean are explaining to waste of space that a rift opened in the armoury (is that right? I didn’t see any weapons in that room, but it sounded like he said armoury). Sam says two guys stepped out that looked just like them. Dean: except not, and don’t even get me started about the car. Waste of space does not understand which is his standard operating procedure since his first episode tbh. I’m not sure if this is still supposed to be funny; it’s been 11 years since season 4. 😴.

Dean says welcome to the club.

What? The dumbass club? Sam and Dean are such dumbasses that they need Billie to suddenly appear to confirm they’ve met an AU version of themselves running from their reality. Seriously? 😡. They know other worlds are being destroyed, they rescued Kaia from one in the process of being destroyed and that was only last week! They don’t think that other Sam and Deans in other universes are going to be figuring out what’s happening and trying to do something to stop it? It doesn’t make sense. Sam and Dean do reckless things, but they aren’t dumb. 😡

As an aside, what I loved about the AU Sam and Dean we just met, is that they didn’t try to save their world, they were only interested in saving their own pretty asses by trying to jump worlds and I love how different they are from our Sam and Dean who would, and have, sacrificed themselves in a heartbeat to save their world.

I used to like Billie but all the monologuing over the last couple of episodes is 😴 which is not the actresses fault, but there are also some issues with delivery of the lines (because it’s boring). Key point from this entire boring scene is:

Billie: He’s almost done, wrapping up all those other worlds and when he is…Sam: it’s our turn

Billie agrees and says they need to be prepared. She has the next step… for Jack.

Jack appears on cue, eating a sandwich. He says he’s ready and feeling good about it. I’m feeling I’m missing a scene somewhere. Did he already have a chat with Billie, so he knows what she’s about to say? I’m not sure but don’t care enough to spend any time on it.

Billy monologues that the first quest (eating the hearts) was to strengthen Jack’s body. Step 2 is more spiritual in nature.

Waste of space: can you be more specific? Me: you’re that asshole that asks questions during presentations, aren’t you? Give her a chance to monologue ffs. She was just about to tell us before your unnecessary interruption. I don’t even have a clue what your contribution to this scene is, other than pre-emptory meltdown avoidance of 200 accounts on twitter. Death: Jack needs to find the occultum Sam: the occultum? Occultum, that’s Latin for… hidden. Where do we find it? Me: you’re so smart 😍 Death (sarcastic): I don’t know… It’s hidden

Ah yes, a side character making the Winchesters look stupid never gets old. 🙄

Anyway, more boring monologuing later, it’s been hidden for centuries, it’s sacred and potent. It’s not a weapon per se but it’s powerful.

Dean(sarcastically): Okay, thanks, big help.

She asks Jack if he’s ready and he says he is. She says that’s good, that they have to be ready and vigilant and not stupid (looks at the Winchesters). Dean’s eyeroll matches mine almost exactly. Sick, fed up of the Winchesters being called stupid by side characters. Oh, I said that already. Well I am!

Avoiding this scene in future and moving on.

Sam and Dean are researching the occultum. Or at least Sam’s researching and ranting about the occultum, but Deans playing with an elastic band and barely listening. Sam gets his attention and asks what he’s doing. Dean’s thinking about things and how if Jack kills god, that still leaves “you know who”. Sam says: Amara. Dean thinks that if Jack kills god, he’ll have to kill her too, because if you take Chuck off the board, that throws things out of balance and the world ends. If there’s no God or Darkness, nothing is out of balance.

Sam: Okay, Yeah, but who takes over, Jack?

Dean contemplates that and is about to answer when Jack walks in, blowing a bubblegum bubble and announcing he just learned how to do that.

Dean turns back to Sam: Probably not

I love little scenes like this, zero pandering, just classic Supernatural and classic Dean. 😍

Overall, it was another good brother scene (taking aside the boring plot which we can’t do anything about).

Parents Sam and Dean speak to Jack about how he’s going to take down Chuck because Billie hasn’t been clear on the plan.

Dean: Yeah, when you go up against Chuck, you’re gonna what? (makes boxing moves), duck and weave, or just go in for the full smite? 😂

My Dean is back with the one liners in this episode and I love him.

Jack: Yeah, you know, something like that

Dean’s face. 😂

Unsurprisingly Sam and Dean are not reassured, they’re about to ask more questions when waste of space walks in and good news guys! Unbelievably, He has information from fellow waste of space/plot device Sergei (does waste of space only have one contact?). The show aren’t even trying anymore with this shit. Istg. 🙄 Ah what would we do without waste of space? Definitely have a much more decent episode if I’m going to be perfectly honest.

Anyway, when waste of space announces who he has information from:

Dean: Him? Are we that desperate? 😂

Of course, Sergei knows about the occultum 🙄. He would have been extremely useful to have had around in the early seasons. Each episode would have been tied up in 30 seconds with one phonecall to the font of all knowledge. I hate characters like this and the laziness of the writing to continue to fallback on him.

Supernatural writer: Hey boss, I’m stuck a little on the occultum storyline Dabb: Have you tried using waste of space and Sergei? Supernatural writer: I didn’t think of that! Great idea, thanks! I guess that’s why you’re the boss! Me: 🙄 you lazy 🤬

Waste of space monologues about the occultum and what happened to it, he starts off that its divine in origin and was housed in a temple for hundreds of years before…

Dean: it was plundered by pirates! Waste of space: No Dean: it was dug up by tomb raiders! Waste of space: No Dean: it was seized by the king of the dead and his war lords. Am I close? Waste of space: looted by invading mongol hoardes for trade on the black market Dean: on the black market (looks at Sam) That’s what I thought. I was going to say that next, that was the next one.

Sam indulges his hunter husband. Oh wait, this is our Sam and Dean, not the AU version. Rewinds to check. No, Sam is indulging his hunter husband. He asks waste of space where it is now.

Long explanation later, the object was given to a faith healer in return for saving the owners life.

Faith healer? How convenient. Now, who do we know that’s a faith healer? 🙄

Waste of space doesn’t have a name – are you kidding me? He must have had a name to go to the faith healer. He at least has a description. She was attractive 🙄 and had glowing hands while healing.

It’s your wife, Jensen! Erm I mean, Sister Jo.

Imagine that entire scene with waste of space and Sergei plot device removed, Sam found the information from research and that entire conversation was between him and Dean. Infinitely better and rewatchable.

Sam and Dean go off to visit Jensen’s wife Sister Jo who at this point of the show’s run has somehow been cast in 4 previous episodes and every single appearance has been completely forgettable. This one is no different.

I’m going to rant for a second. This stunt casting, bringing back of “fan favourites”, nepotism, lazy writing crap is really dragging the quality of the show down. We’ve had so many shit, boring, waste of time episodes this season. You could have replaced a couple of them with the Winchesters trying to track down this elusive but needed item. Make it hard for them, get rid of Sergei and Jensen’s wife Sister Jo and make the finding of this artefact interesting and more believable by introducing new characters for them to interact with. This is just… really bleh.

Anyway, Sam and Dean go to see one of the most boring characters ever created, and that includes waste of space who was badass in season 4-5, a dick yes, but a badass none the less so he gets a pass. This is not a good scene, it’s worth fast forwarding and forgetting it ever existed, not least because of bad dialogue and questionable acting. I am really, really not a wife hater, but neither will I give someone a free pass because of who they are married to. You come on the show, you get judged on your own merits, same as any other guest actor. Long story short, they want the thingamajig I’ve forgotten the name of because I had a 6 hour watching break to work up to watching this scene and that was not nearly long enough. Jo doesn’t want to give it to them, and Sam and Dean pull angel blades on her. She says she didn’t have it, Ruby does.

Where’s that gif. Where the fuck is that gif? Oh, found it…

This next scene, I just 😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬. Okay, I can do this, woman’s up and presses play, weeping for what once was the entire time I’m watching.

We get a pointless scene which as predicted, is nothing less than a gimmick, written only to have “the wives” on the show in the same episode and in the same scene. I think this is the angriest I’ve ever been watching a show and we haven’t reached the point in the episode where Sam is reduced to a doorstopper. Oh yes, that gem has still to come. 🤬😡🤬!!!

Somehow, even though Ruby is terrified of angels and Jo wasn’t on earth at the same time as Ruby, they somehow not only met, but worked together. Jo says the vessel suits Ruby better than the blond. Not in this household missy. We stan the infinitely better Katie Cassidy (fine there might have been a childhood crush on watching reruns of her father that sways the debate in her favour slightly but that’s neither here nor there!).

Okay, no sorry. I thought I could take one for the team, but I can’t. This entire scene would not ever have been made if the show was in the hands of a competent showrunner. It’s just complete nonsense with absolutely no attempt by the writer to respect the audience or canon and not worth even documenting what happens as it’s all a crock of 💩. Do yourselves a favour and ignore it. All you need to know is Ruby has the thingamajig they need. It was stashed somewhere in hell.

Back at the bunker, Jack has take out, lots and lots of take out; pizza (no pineapple), fried chicken, hot dogs, nachos, Chinese food… Waste of space joins him. They talk about Jack not having a soul. Jack says he understands why Sam and Dean were angered by what happened to Mary

Castiel: by what you did to Mary

He gets a pass for this line (and his name back briefly) because it needed to be said so he wasn’t a waste of space for once.

Jack sees things have changed, especially with Dean.

I see a bit of chatter on this one. I don’t understand the chatter. Sam forgives people, this goes way back that he’s able to forgive people and not hold a grudge. He’s had a darkness inside him his entire life, he’s had to fight against his nature to be who he is, so of course he’s going to be more forgiving, more understanding of someone he sees as being similar to him. Add to the fact that Sam did not build a strong relationship with Mary - he’s sad she’s gone - but I think he’s more accepting of it than Dean. All of this has been shown in episodes, so when Jack asks, “Will he ever forgive me?” He’s not asking about Sam because he knows through Sam’s words and actions that Sam has forgiven him, but he knows Dean hasn’t. I don’t have an issue with this, and you know I’m a bitter Sam fan, I’ll reserve my anger for later in the episode.

So, for me, waste of space only talks about Dean for the same reason (and shockingly not because he’s gay for the human). He says, “Dean, he feels things more acutely than any human I’ve ever known, so it’s possible he can work through this. One day he may explode, let it all out and breath deeply and move on.”

Jack asks how long that will take. waste of space says he doesn’t know.

I understand the point of the scene, it’s not the worst. I’d prefer if my boys were saving people, hunting things obviously, but this was an okay scene. I do like Alex and what he brings to the table – though don’t like when too much focus is put on him or Sam’s relationship with him is sidelined.

Sam and Dean return to the bunker. Dean asks if Sam’s sure they can swing this again. Sam says they still have Rowena’s notes from the spell. Dean: Okay, Samwitch, lets do this.” I love how Dean hates witches, he was still wary of Rowena though could see her uses, but the minute Sam is a witch, Dean’s all aboard the witch train. 😂

Waste of space appears, Dean tells him that they sorta know where the occultum is. Waste of space looks worried and they know something is wrong. They follow him through the bunker to one of the rooms. Their AU selves are projected on the wall. I just… Why was the entire episode not their doppelgängers? I love them. AU Dean screams (but we can’t hear him). AU Sam seems far more relaxed about the situation. They can’t see or hear our Sam or Dean. Sam asks waste of space where they are.

Waste of space thinks the blast trapped them between dimensions as the rift and their world was destroyed. AU Dean tapping on the wall, and trying to get a cell phone signal, I just can’t… 😂

Dean: Are they in pain? Waste of space doesn’t think so. Dean says “Good” goes to leave. Sam tries to stop him. Dean says they’ll deal with them, but first they have to go to hell. Waste of space: woah, you do?

Sam explains that’s where Jo said Ruby stashed the occultum

Waste of space: Ruby? The demon you were sexually intimate with? Dean: Sexually intimate? Sam (strongly): Yes!

I’ve seen a lot of chatter on this one as well. Some claiming that Dean is questioning the choice of wording by waste of space. I don’t see that. I see this as another fail, that they are somehow trying to claim Dean doesn’t know Sam and Ruby had a sexual relationship, even though Sam went into it in explicit detail in “I know what you did last summer”, to the point Dean asked him to stop. If they were going for the choice of wording, they failed in both facial expressions and dialogue.

They have a discussion, not worth repeating, too much focus on waste of space. Upshot is Sam and Dean are going to Hell.

Sam and Dean arrive on the Charmed set in Hell. I’m expecting them to meet Julian McMahon striding down the corridor. They meet a demon who informs them that Rowena is hosting a reception for newly condemned souls. The demon doesn’t seem happy about that. He starts taking them to Rowena. This is a pretty pointless scene tbh.

Back in the bunker, waste of space says to Jack that he doesn’t trust Jo’s story, he wants to speak to Ruby who apparently is in the empty. I’m losing it with where entities end up these days. I’m guessing if demons are exorcised, like Meg was, then they go back to Hell. If they are killed permanently, like Alastair was by Sam, they end up in the Empty? I guess it makes sense.

Anyway, waste of space needs Jack’s assistance to get to the empty. He needs Jack to kill him…

Damn, false alarm, it’s only an “almost kill”. Yeah, I would probably be too thorough. Okay Jack, carry on, you’re up.

I don’t understand how he’ll be able to do anything in the empty, won’t he be kept in a state of nothing?

Jack reminds waste of space that the empty doesn’t like him. Waste of space says he’s far from happy so he should be okay.

Jack: Cass, I, I may not have a soul, but I know killing you is wrong, what if I screw up? Waste of space: well then, I’ll be lost forever… but I think you’ll do fine.

Jack has to draw out most of waste of space’s life force into a flask, and keep an eye on him so he doesn’t die for real. He also has to tend the spell to ensure Sam and Dean are not lost in Hell forever either (but to me it seems really easy to get in and out of, not like the early days so don’t see them being stuck there as a problem). Remember back in season 2 when hell was this...

Sam: Hell is like, um ... (punches Dean)... well, it's like hell, even for demons. (punches Dean again)... It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear.

Good times. Now we have Barbie!Hell and anyone can just walk in and it isn’t scary. But yeah, tell me again that I should stop being critical and the show hasn’t deteriorated beyond all recognition

Sam and Dean follow the lackey they met in Hell to where Rowena is hosting a meet and greet for the new arrivals to Hell. Or at least that’s where they were supposed to be taken, turns out it’s a trap. Of course, it is, because dumchesters 🙄, but at least we get a decent fight out of it as they are set upon by three demons carrying angel blades. Dean kills two, Sam holds the third hostage so they can find out who betrayed them. Unsurprisingly it was Jo 🙄 Sam then kills the demon (after Dean gives a nod to do so).

Dean: that bitch set us up!

We switch to sister Jo and see her packing up and leaving, so she must know her plan failed, and Sam and Dean will soon be after her.

We’re now in The Empty with waste of space and for sure as shit, this scene changing whiplash, disregard of canon, lack of continuity between other episodes, focus on side characters has to mean this is a suck-lemons episode. He’s shouting for Ruby. He doesn’t get her, we hear, “Hello Clarence”

Waste of space spins around and it’s Meg! He’s so happy to see her and disappointed that it’s the empty. No offence to Rachel, love her, she does great in the episode and Megstiel will always be canon, but just not interested in any of this.

Next scene is waste of space and Ruby. Fast forwarding other than to say no sweetie, Sam didn’t kill you, but I don’t blame you, I blame the writers who are too lazy to do any research. Sam should have killed you, but it was Dean that did it.

Another scene between Ruby and Jo, as forgettable as the first. Lucifer and Michael weren’t circling their vessels when you were still breathing you morons. Lucifer hadn’t yet been released, but what is canon on this show when you can blast it aside and have the wives in a scene together and isn’t it wonderful? Eh, I’m gonna say hard no on that one.

Another scene between Ruby and waste of space. In true Ruby style, she’ll help him if he gets her out of the empty. Oh, and the occultum is a place, not a thing, that’s all we need to know.

Fast forwarding all of this as it’s pandering trite, not worthy of my time, besides the dumbchesters are back from Hell and I think Jack might be in trouble with them.

Jack (guilty): Guys… you’re back Dean (looking between Jack and waste of space’s body): Jack? What the hell?

Severe whiplash alert! We’re back with Ruby and waste of space. Ruby monologues that the Empty is a place where all you do is dream about your regrets over and over for eternity. Well then, just as well I have no regrets in life, other than watching seasons 12-14 of Supernatural. Wait, imagine that on repeat for eternity. NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Waste of space says he knows. In fairness to waste of space, at least he will have a vast range of playbacks on the amount of regrets he should have over the years, so he won’t get bored anytime soon.

Whiplash alert! We’ve left the corned beef actors and are back with the porterhouse steak. They advance on Jack.

Jack: He’s dead, kind of… for now Sam: What?!

Whiplash! Get me back to the porterhouse damn it! Waste of space agrees to try to get Ruby out, she whispers in waste of space’s ear, “the occultum, it’s…”

Whiplash! I’m suing at this point in the episode tbh.

Jack: Cass went to the empty, hopefully to find Ruby, hopefully to find out where this occultum thing is located, hopefully (puppy eyes)

Whiplash! Ruby steps away and disappears. Waste of space’s face is interesting, and I’m intrigued where it is.

Whiplash!

Sam and Dean’s faces. 😂

Sam: that’s way too many hopefullys! Dean: Bring him back, now!

Okay Hellers, here’s a test. If Sam had said that line, would you have interpreted it as Sam speaking as a parent or Sam concerned about waste of space because he’s secretly in love with him? Dean is obviously concerned, but he’s speaking to Jack as a parent.

Jack opens the flask to release waste of space’s grace. But The Empty (still in Meg’s form) is reluctant to let him go. Turns out as she’s torturing waste of space that The Empty has a deal with Death, she helps Death and she can go back to sleep when Death’s plan works. We alternate between waste of space being tortured and Jack trying to revive him.

Dean: come on, wake up pal. Dean: Come on Cass, come on Dean: Cass!

Pandering!

Waste of space wakes up. The Empty says, “see you soon”

I hope she does because yes, I love watching a show where my leads are made out to be dumbasses and the waste of space that should have been killed off years ago is the hero. I’m losing count of how many episodes that’s happened this season. Sick of it. 🤬

Waste of space (looks at Dean): you made it back Dean: Yeah, and so did you! You’re an idiot by the way! Sam chimes in: What if this hadn’t worked?

Waste of space says it did [work]. The occultum was never in Hell. The occultum is the safest place in the world. Jo was never going to give that up. Waste of space knows where it is and asks, “Am I still an idiot?”

I’m actually so angry right now. Who does this? What shitty writer makes their lead cast look like idiots in order to big up a side character. What does he have on someone because I’m at a loss for any other logical explanation at this point for them willingly ruining the show.

Anyway, Dean says “well yeah”. Me: hell to the fuck yeah, you’re still an idiot and I hate you even more after this episode than I did before.

Sam wants to go to the place.

Jack reminds them if Chuck checks in on them and sees what they’re doing, they’ll lose.

Dean’s plan involves using their doppelgängers to pretend to be them. They’ll open up a rift and he thinks waste of space’s grace will be enough to pull them through. Sam thinks it might also blast them to another world.

AU Sam and Dean are playing rock, paper, scissors. AU Sam throws scissors and wins. AU Dean’s reaction. 😂

Sam mixes up the spell for the portal and they place it at the wall where AU Sam and Dean are trapped. Bright light later and…

… it obviously works because AU Sam and AU Dean are now sitting at the map table with a beer in front of each of them. Our Sam and Dean are currently standing. And I cannot do any justice to this scene. It is perfect from start to finish. Go watch the genius of Jared and Jensen at play with no one else cluttering up the scene.

Upshot of this scene is that AU John is (or was) alive, they got separated coming through the portal. He spoils them, (Dean: he spoils you?!) John has set up a very successful business called Huntercorp. They get paid (Dean: you get paid?!) for hunting monsters all over the world and have a private jet. I would ask what they’re doing driving around in a Fiat 500 instead of a luxury car, but I’m having too much fun, so it gets a free pass and I won’t nitpick. Let’s headcanon it’s all they could get a hold of to get through the rift and leave it at that. They keep toasting their beers to their dad, “the best guy ever” but they don’t seem too cut up that he and their world have gone splody. I love these versions, they seem to be fine they made it through and they have each other. I’d like to see one without the other as I think they’d give our brothers a run for their money in the codependency stakes.

AU Sam’s pinkie is raised while he drinks, and I can’t with the silent genius that is Jared Padalecki when he inhabits a character.

Our Sam and Dean during all of this. 😂.

Dean explains to the AU’s that they need them to pose as them for a while. In order to do that, Sam tells his AU self he has to lose the man bun. AU Sam’s reaction 😂. He is not happy. AU Dean closes his eyes and sits back, putting a hand over his mouth. I thought at first he wasn’t happy at our Sam, but no, the reaction is because he knows how his Sam reacts about his hair (*whispers* I suspect AU Dean has suggested many times that AU Sam let his hair down… for reasons and AU Sam has refused, so its an old argument). Sure enough, AU Sam says he will not. Our boys ignore that and also tactfully suggest they will need to change their clothes.

Next, we see the impala at night, driving towards a church. All TFW 2.0 are in the car. 🙄

They walk up to the church doors and Jack says he knows he hasn’t been doing this as long as them, but doesn’t it seem too easy.

They agree and at that moment hear a growling.

Jack: is that a bear?

Dean starts trying to get the church doors open by picking the lock

Sam: No, it’s more like uh… Waste of space: hellhounds Sam (as the hellhounds are approaching): Dean… Dean, you wanna hurry a little bit?

Dean gets the door open and they all get inside just in time. Sam and Dean get the door closed and Dean asks Sam if he’s got it. I’ve seen a lot of chatter on this one. This scene alone highlights one of the many, many things wrong with the show and why it’s no longer enjoyable. I think they were trying for ha ha comedy. Sam trying to keep the door closed while they are all standing around like idiots, but it isn’t funny and reduces Sam down to muscle rather than what he actually brings to the show, and both waste of space and Jack are stronger.

Waste of space should have been holding the door (or not been there at all, which is preferable) and the scene should have been Sam, Dean and Jack. No excuses for why it wasn’t done this way (other than pandering). A line of pandering is annoying but acceptable, sidelining Jared to cater an entire scene to them is completely unncceptable. You’ve pissed off the Jared/Sam fans which are many more than Misha/Castiel (despite what they try to tell themselves), and you’ve pissed off the brother fans which are the majority of the audience.

Waste of space says the top of the cross points the way and they all look up at the cross high on the church wall.

As a side note, the Hellers are so cute, counting Sam and Dean standing in a church with their “son” as their wedding. Refrains from slapping 8.23 down in front of them where Dean actually said some vows along the lines of “don’t you ever dare think there is anything past or present that I would put in front of you!” 😍

Sam (being paid $250k for this): Guys! Can you maybe move it along?

That’s not the cross they are looking for, because at that point, clouds miraculously clear outside, allowing moonlight to shine through a window and highlights an area on the church floor. I mean I like that x marks the spot but I’m not sure about time of day/year and position in the sky etc. to know if this is realistic, like will it still be the exact same spot at 6pm in December as it is midnight in summer?

Jack points it out to them and Dean bends down to open the floorboard.

Sam: Guys, I can’t hold them forever!

Dean lifts the floorboard which contains a velvet bag. He opens the bag and pulls out a golden snitch. He hands it to waste of space and asks if it’s a map. Jack suggests it might be a key. Waste of space reads the enochian passage on the golden snitch (which if he hadn’t been written into this scene, Sam could have done that).

Golden Snitch: in order to be in the occultum, the occultum must be in you. Me (immediately): swallow it!

There’s a reason Sam’s holding the doors closed as he’d have got that within a second. The others are just looking around dumbly. 🙄

Back with AU Winchesters and AU Sam, wearing plaid, man bun still in place, is watching “powderpuff princess and friends” channel on the laptop, which seems to be about kittens. 😂 AU Dean appears carrying two beers

Au!Dean: they said lose the man bun, Samuel (love that he goes by Samuel) Me: Wow, AU Dean really wants Sam to let his hair down…for reasons AU Sam: look, hillbilly clothes are bad enough, I have to draw the line somewhere and my hair… is sacred (Jared added this 😂)

AU!Dean rolls his eyes, denied once again.

AU Sam asks what they do now. AU Dean says, drink beer and sit in front of a computer screen

AU Sam: that’s their lives? He’s still drinking the beer with the pinkie out. 😂. Chuck would know straight away this wasn’t Sam and Dean. Sam’s face drinking the beer. 😂 He’s high maintenance for sure. AU Dean is much less fussy and I think would adapt quite well to the new world.

AU!Dean has found our Dean’s bustyasianbeauty.com internet history. 😂

AU Sam: Can you imagine if dad caught us with that kind of stuff? Goodbye trust funds.

AU!Sam’s not interested in the ladies and I don’t think he’s happy that AU Dean is either.

AU!Dean: I gotta tell you Sammy, this Sam and Dean, you know, sure they’re simple, but they’ve got this place of their own, there’s no quarterly reports, there’s no investor calls, there’s nothing to do but hunt monsters, drink beer and watch porn. AU!Sam: Yeah AU!Dean: they’ve got it made

Switch to our Sam and he’s really struggling with keeping the hellhounds out, while waste of space and Dean are arguing is another pandering scene (which has already had at least four in the episode). It’s been written solely to please the 1%ers who no doubt will create thousands of tweets from their 200 accounts with “old married couple and their son.”

These people are incapable of looking at characters and continuity, they don’t care if it’s likely a character will do something just as long as they get content for their ship. But I care, the majority of the audience care. The Dean we know and love would just not under any circumstances abandon Sam at the door on his own. This is where the writing is failing. If they are incapable of writing a scene that makes sense in the bigger scheme of things, that doesn’t change the standard operating procedure of one of the two leads, then it has no place in the show. I could have written a scene between waste of space and Dean that would have given the 1%ers more than enough fodder (they get excited over lamps, it wouldn’t be that hard to do), while at the same time, not ruining Dean’s core character or sidelining Sam to be a doorstopper for an entire fucking scene. Besides, all the old married couples I know are old and still married because they never argue, they finish each other sentences and smile fondly at their idiot other half when they do something idiotic, because it’s their idiot. Kind of like… Sam and Dean.

Jack ignores them as much as I do, he turns away while they are still arguing. When he turns back, Dean looks at him,

Dean: “Where’s the thing?” Jack: I ate it Dean: You What?! Jack: well, he said it had to be in me… so… Dean (internally) Sammy’s going to fucking kill me. (Externally) No! spit it out! Jack (laughing): it’s fine, nothings happening

Something’s definitely happening as Jack doubles over in pain. Sam can only watch helplessly from the door as a bright light erupts from within Jack and then he disappears.

Again, that scene would have been infinitely more watchable if waste of space hadn’t been shoved into the space Sam should have been, but no, he’s still holding a fucking door closed. I shit you not. 😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬🤬😡🤬😡🤬🤬🤬!

Jack wakes up in what we find out is the garden of Eden. The creepy little girl from Angel approaches him. “You must not be human, humans may not enter here, are you an angel?” Jack says it’s complicated but asks why humans can’t be here. She says they were banished, and god hid the garden away from them. Jack says he was told the place might change him somehow. She responds that it might if he’s the chosen one. He’ll know soon enough. She leaves him alone. I’m speculating at this point that Jack isn’t the right person, but Sam is.

We whiplash briefly back to the church. Yes, my fellow Sam fans, Sam is still a $250k doorstopper while waste of space and Dean continue to argue. This isn’t good drama for anyone. Dean is completely ooc in not helping Sam.

Harry Potter Jack meets the garden of Eden snake. Luckily Jack can understand parcel-tongue as the snake talks to him. Who are you really? Who are you meant to be?

We get various flashbacks, none of which show Sam all that much, and I think that’s deliberate, though badly done. The one person Jack has never had to question until the malac box was Sam. I still maintain that Jack knows Sam forgives him and loves him unconditionally, but he knows Dean doesn’t, which is why the focus was on Dean. The annoyance would have been much less if Sam hadn’t been a doorstopper in place of a significantly lesser character.

Anyway, Jack collapses on the ground and he’s crying by the end of it. Same Jack, same tbh.

Back at the church, a bright ball of light comes through the cross window and floats down towards the church floor, right in front of Sam before moving to hover between Sam and Dean (again if waste of space hadn’t been there, this would have been a much better scene).

Sam’s thrown away from the doors and lands on the floor. Dean rushes forward to stand in front of his brother… oh wait, no, that’s in my version, the suck-lemons version has Dean actually take a step back, while the hellhounds advance on Sam who is closest to them. Like he literally doesn’t move a fucking inch, and people are asking why we are unhappy? Who the fuck was that, because it wasn’t Dean Winchester. 😡

The bright light gets brighter, I think it kills the hellhounds, rather than just repels them. When the light clears, Sam sees Jack lying on the floor in front of him. He says “Jack” which draws the attention of Dean who shouts “Jack”. Oh, that gets Dean’s feet moving 🙄. They watch as Jack sits up and Dean asks him if he’s okay. Jack doesn’t answer.

Back with Dean and AU!Winchesters. Dean’s trying to herd them out the bunker, thanking them for their help. AU!Dean suggests they could all live in the bunker together.

AU!Sam: like a club (AU!Dean points at Sam in agreement).

Our Dean doesn’t share his toys very well and thinks that would just be weird.

AU!Dean (he definitely wants our Sam, with the whole hair down thing he’s got going on): it wouldn’t be so weird

Dean knows what AU!Dean wants and tells them to go to Brazil

AU Dean asks if they can keep the flannel shirts, Dean says no, and tries to hurry them along.

AU Sam and Dean turn to go, but AU!Dean turns back and says that when they were looking around, they saw it

Dean: It? AU!Dean: the car Dean: You didn’t…. touch it AU!Sam: We “drove” in it 😉 Dean: You What?!

Awkward looks all around until AU!Dean says, “And we’re leaving…” smacking AU!Sam on the shoulder and pushing him up the bunker stairs.

AU!sam: oww, my arm, you’re hurting me!” AU!Dean: Sam! AU!Sam: Dean… Dean (angry): Have fun in Rio!

I like the scene so I’m trying not to nitpick the fact the car was with our Sam and Dean and the AU versions couldn’t possibly have found it, much less “drove” in it.

Dean goes to find Sam who is leaning on the wall outside I’m guessing Jack’s room. He asks if the kid is okay. Sam says he doesn’t know. Waste of space comes out and says Jack seems to have recovered but there’s something different about him. No one’s been to the garden since the exile, until Jack.

They all go in, yes, even waste of space, and it turns out it wasn’t Jack’s room, but the kitchen and I have to seriously question why Sam - who is unquestionably Jack’s main parent - was outside and not with him. *whispers Jared has obviously done something or not done something to bring the petty wrath of Dabb down upon his beautiful head, no other explanation at this point. Roll on Walker and Jared ensuring that show doesn’t get stolen out from under him by a backstabbing co-worker and petty showrunner.

They approach Jack and he says he is so sorry. He is crying and says it was his fault.

Waste of space says Jack’s soul is back.

Jack looks up at Sam and Dean and asks them to forgive him but the camera focuses in only on Dean. Pats my fellow Sam fans consolingly on their heartbroken backs.

#spn spoilers #15.13 #destiny's child #episode review #episode recap #spn critical #very critical #anti dabb #anti castiel #anti everyone involved in this show right now #tbh

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pompamaroon · 5 years ago

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2019: A Year of Ups and Downs

In this post, I will go over some reasoning as to why 2019 was a slow year in terms of providing content or updating my tumblr profiles, and how I was feeling. Most will be seeing this coming from either SHSL Scans and/or my Manlyronpa profile. This is not a necessary read, but it will also go into why my interest in the Danganronpa series was at an all time low and despite a burning passion, I overall just gave up on the fandom and community for awhile.

My year started off quite strong, with my occupation changing from something draining to something that allowed me to build a career and have new opportunities. This was definitely the high point of my year, and I was even able to save up enough to take a trip to see someone I had grown close to across the country, something I’d only dreamed of up to this point. However, during the trip, I found myself in awe of the location and in awe of the presence of the person I went to visit. They are truly one-of-a-kind and always know how to make me smile just with their company alone. In comparison though, I felt I just could not stand beside them. Personally, I felt I was a 180 in about every way to this person and I still feel this way. It was a bitter sweet feeling, and by the time I left, I got the feeling that I’d truly given it my best, and I would have to push aside the feelings I had for this person. I attempted to set aside these feelings by devoting myself to my career which was honestly a great escape. Not only did I have a dream job, my co-workers were great to work with and bounce banter off. Additionally my managers and supervisor all had great senses of humor and I truly felt welcome to my position, resulting in a comrade dynamic that is very rare in the work force. Thanks to this boost in motivation at work, I actually managed to be able to consistently pay and commission for things. This is where I first encountered some issues with the DR fanbase. Admittedly, I had commissioned some adult works and the material in these works made it obvious it was me who asked for them, or inspired others to get them. Around late may/early June, I ended up reaching out to some SFW work artists because I wanted to commission something a bit more wholesome involving favorites, however due to my notoriety of my earlier commissions, 2 artists turned me down as they were either not interested or did not want to be associated with NSFW artists and another artist ghosted me. It was admittedly a bit of a weird situation to deal with, but overall I felt discouraged. Additionally, the NSFW artists I had commissioned before also were not interested in drawing anything further, and so I ultimately had nowhere to go with my ideas. While I understood being turned down is completely in the artists right, I felt that my ideas were just bad, which lead to me feeling like what I enjoyed about the DR series or wanted to see from the DR series was wrong altogether. I sat down and seriously thought about it and realized that despite everything I had done to contribute to the community, that ultimately, there were no real connections made with anyone. The people I had worked with in terms of manga had either stolen my raws, or spoke negatively about other contributors(something I was also guilty of) or even in a surprising case with a certain person, just ended up leaving with out a word! In the middle of nearing completion of a large project as well! Out of everyone I’ve ever met thanks to DR, there are only 2 people I’ve consistently continued to talk with on a somewhat daily-basis. The rest ultimately just cast me aside in various ways, leaving me feeling alienated further and like I just was not going to fit into the community no matter what I tried or what I did. I did get a lot of messages from people of course, but most were reaching out for where they could find more DR manga or what they could get from me. Eventually, I got so frustrated with it, I decided to just not do anything else in the DR fandom. I no longer felt a need to be exceedingly contributing to it or seeing it grow further, and so, after literally pulling out all the stops, the final V3 anthology release was the last thing DR related I dared to even open for a long time. I really wish that the completion of that anthology series could’ve been something more optimistic, but it just ended on a sour note for me feeling very resentful towards the fandom and community. So I shifted to doing manga I personally enjoyed, and just actually reading manga which ended up being fun! It was awesome indulging in stuff that made me happy and while it was not as popular as the DR stuff I released, I didn’t care. I wanted to treat myself. Once completed(and even during the process) though, I did have an annoying unsatisfactory feeling that I had so much DR manga unfinished. So with a new fire in me, I tackled the manga again, completing the Genocider Mode manga as I was close to completing it but also had promised someone like, 5 years+ ago that I’d complete it. After that, there was a lot of silence, but not because I had lost interested. Instead it was around the end of August and I was in peak form. I wasn’t just killing it at work, I was going all out with the DR1 Anthologies. I had started working on them in early 2018, however, there was just a large demand for V3 stuff, so I was mostly working on that. I was on a hot streak until early November, when one of my close higher ups was let go. This completely fractured our team and we were all getting divided up as our company began to slowly change. This was a huge shock for me as the high points of my days were going to work, and those were slowly being phased out. My friends at the time also were busy with work and this left me alone for a looong time. This sent me into a depression that I could just not dig myself out of. Of course, I still functioned and went to work, but with no feeling of social connection with anyone inside or outside of work, I felt no reason to continue my work on the anthology. I had completely given up and there were only 3 stories left to work too. This went on until January of 2020, when the new year started and I had received a promotion at my work due to my continued perseverance and growth. Since then, we’ve received lots of good news at work even with the epidemic going on, and concerning the Danganronpa series, I found my fire being lit anew. Of course, I’m anxious and worried, especially after DR3 and DRV3 failed to impress me, however with both the creators and devs wanting to give off the feeling of a “Class Reunion” for DR’s anniversary, I’m feeling excited that regardless of what we get, it will be something familiar and hopeful and like DR1 inspired me to truly take steps forward, I’m hoping the major game they announce will help me reconnect with those feelings of wanting to just move forward and not let my previous experiences to go to waste. I’m more than ready to give it my all to make this anniversary great as possible too by releasing as much manga as possible, even if it is just by myself. I truly do enjoy the series and am thankful for the few good things it was able to bring into my life by getting me out of the dark place I was in before I played it and this will hopefully be the year I can truly convey that.

#Yaz's stuff

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writingsofadream · 6 years ago

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Chapter One | The Beginning

Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

Story: You knew being an intern at BigHit wouldn’t be easy, but you’d never imagined Jungkook would make it even harder.

You are a new intern at Big Hit, and you get to meet the boys. Set in the real world (as opposed at an AU), and just before the Love Yourself: Tear Comeback. 1.8k words in this chapter.

|||||||||| 1 ||||||||||

The harsh and unforgiving buzz of your 6am alarm screeches through your bedroom, penetrating the soft blankets and making its way into your dream. For a second your thoughts are confused and muddled with the morning noise, but then you feel your body wake with a start.

Today’s the day.

Hurriedly you push the blankets off your body and slip out of bed, into your comfiest dressing gown and the ridiculously old slippers you refuse to replace. Their sentimental value outweighs their depreciating quality, so you continue to wear them to pieces.

Your internship starts today. With Big Hit.

You couldn’t believe your luck at being chosen from over 15, 000 college applicants, especially as Korean was only your second language, (though you were undeniably fluent), and you had just arrived in Seoul a little over six months ago. Somehow you had been picked, and your astonishment had turned into realisation and immense butterflies in the weeks since the fateful letter had arrived. And now today was finally the day.

Big Hit was such a huge contributor to K-pop and the music industry through BTS, but most of all it was an undeniably successful music production company. You were overwhelmed at the thought of being able to see first-hand the work that goes into such a huge corporation, and as a business major it was pretty much all you could think about. Most of your friends had been shocked at the prospect of you being near BTS for 4 months, but you just couldn’t keep your mind off the school side of things. After all, that was why you applied, and no doubt they were going to be perfectly normal boys anyway. Well, men.

The shower was warm and enjoyable as it flooded over your body, and you shut your eyes for deeper enjoyment. Mixed with the sound of light rain from outside, the butterflies in your stomach were almost calming rather than anxiety-inducing. You shave, and wash your body and your hair - the light and flowery scents were your favourites, and you’re all too aware your self-presentation will be taken into account by all officials you meet.

Hopping out, you put on your pre-selected outfit, looking at yourself in your bedroom’s full-length mirror. A white button-up shirt, with tightly flattering black jeans cuffed at the ankles and your faithful black and white vans. You look presentable, yet still young and obviously intern-esque. Appropriate for an 19 year old intern, you thought.

Heading through to the kitchen, you quickly pop some 3-minute oatmeal into the microwave, and begin cutting up the banana and strawberries to go with it. Your tiny kitchen hugs around you reassuringly, and you look around gratefully. It was truly the perfect apartment, modern yet tiny and with a surprisingly modest rent. In the middle of a strawberry cut your phone rings, and you check it with nervousness. A text from Shia, your best friend and long-suffering brother’s girlfriend.

“Good luck, Y/N! We all love you and are rooting for you!”

Beneath was an adorable photo of them together with your parents, giving you genuine open mouthed smiles and a thumbs up. You couldn’t help but smile too, it was too damn cute. No doubt it had been taken in advance, since the time difference had to be accounted for. You quickly tapped out a thankful reply, sent it, and retrieved your warm oatmeal from the microwave to dig into the early breakfast.

7:30am

Your phone buzzes again, this time reminding you to take your daily birth control pill. Gulping it down with water, you wondered why you were even still bothering. It’d been almost a whole year since your last kiss with a boy, let alone anything more promiscuous than that. Still, shorter periods was a plus and you didn’t seem to have any negative side effects, so you figured it was somewhat worth the routine and $30 a month. Seeing the time, you grabbed your bag and double checked you had everything you could possibly need. Gum, cards, offical ID… everything seemed to be in its rightful place, which seemed promising. You’d even remembered to fill up your metal bottle with fresh cold water and ice, which you loved regardless of the raining weather outside. Stepping out of the apartment, you locked the door behind you and headed down the copious stairs leading to the outside of the building. Sure, you didn’t have to be there until 8:30am and public transport would get you there by 8:10 - you still wanted to be on time for one of the events that could turn into a momentous event for your college work, or even your career.

7:40am

The train is packed, and you find yourself squished between a businessman who pays you no attention and an old lady carrying three purses. The smell is rather damp, and the Monday mood is evident throughout all passengers’ moods. You were undeniably glad you had remembered your tiny bottle of perfume, your favourite travel-sized scent; a little bottle of Marc Jacobs in the scent ‘Daisy’.

A young boy, most likely around 17 is eyeing you up and down from across the train, and his eyes are making you slightly uncomfortable. Sure, you have a nice body and you’re not stranger to their gaze, but it never gets easier being openly gawped at. You shift from foot to foot, hoping that the train has no delays and he doesn’t get off at your stop. He gets off one before, and makes sure to brush against your ass as he makes his way past and out the doors. Gross.

8:10am

You try the door of Big Hit Entertainment nervously, only to be met with resistance. Looking next to the door, you see a keypad clearly needing a set of around 5 numbers to be punched in. Dammit. Shit. How fucking awkward. Waving through the clear door, you try and get the attention of the woman behind the front desk. Eying you with a steeled look, she simply goes back to her mundane work. She must think you’re just a crazed fan. Perfect.

Knocking again, she looks up with clear annoyance on her face. You quickly snatch your ID and the acceptance letter from your bag and bang them against the glass, motioning for her to come and take a closer look. Clearly rolling her eyes, she gets up in a clear movement of frustration.

Once close enough, her eyes go wide and the look on her face is replaced with that of surprise. She swiftly punches numbers in, and the door swings open. Some of the fans who had been standing further back, from the other side of the road start to rush forward, and as soon as you’re through the door she slams the door behind you.

Now up close, you see she’s quite beautiful with wide doe-eyes and perfectly Korean features. She looks as through as was ripped straight from the pages of a magazine, particularly in her dark blue dress that’s tight and works her small curves to the best of their ability. Her lengthy legs in their sky-high heels make her a good 10 inches taller than you, and you feel considerably uglier in comparison.

“I am SO sorry,” she gushes. “I thought you’d be older, and not here until at least 8:30. Again, I seriously apologise! You must think me so rude.”

Her previous annoyance has been completely wiped away, and she now flashes you a sheepish and apologetic smile.

You give her a quick, reassuring smile back, and even laugh a little about the situation.

“No doubt young girls like me try and get in all the time, no doubt! I definitely don’t blame you for being good at your job!”

She laughs in return at this, nodding enthusiastically.

“You’d be astonished at how many young girls want a glimpse of BTS, it’s no wonder they come in through the back! I’m Jinwah, by the way, it’s nice to meet you Y/N… even if our first meeting has been a little difficult!”

You flick your wrist up and check the time on your small gold watch, a present from your father before you'd left for Korea. Your deep sentiment definitely transcends no-longer-fuzzy slippers. 8:24. Definitely time to go.

“I’m so sorry, but I definitely have to get to where I’m supposed to be now. Room 753?” you ask quizzically.

“Take the elevator to floor 14, then it’s the 8th door on your right. Good luck!”

She flashes you another award-winning smile, and you can’t help but seriously like this girl. We could definitely become friends while you’re here, in fact, you might make it a personal goal. You could do with more friends in Korea, since you’re currently sitting at only two.

You send a quick “thanks!” her way, and walk over to the elevator. Pushing the button, it pops open right away for you. Getting in, you repeat to yourself that it’s the eighth door to your right, and you punch in the 14th floor.

Whizzing up, your stomach is in knots as you attempt to mentally prepare yourself for your first impressions. A spritz of your perfume and the doors open, allowing you to step into a white-walled and modern looking hallway. It screams office building, and the buzz of talking is thick. People are all throughout the hallway, and going in and out of the rooms, much busier than the lobby downstairs. You suppose they must all come in through the secretive back entrance, being staff and all. A large and busy woman in a black and white dress notices you, and comes striding towards you with her clipboard. Her smile makes you less nervous, though you feel exceedingly out of place and awkward.

“Welcome! You must be my intern, yes? You’re Y/N?”

Her smile and her warm demeanour melts your butterflies, and you feel much better having met the woman who you’ll be shadowing for the next few month.

“Yes, that’s me,” you reply, “I’m very honoured and excited to be here!”

“Good, good!” She replies, bustling with enthusiasm. “Shall we get started? The very first thing I’ll have you do is meet the boys, they’re all in dance practice right now so I’m sure they’ll be happy to have a quick break.”

She says this with a chuckle, but you suddenly feel nervous again.

8:45am

On our way towards the room you hear it from all the way down the hall. The loud, banging sound of all their feet falling to the floor in synchronisation, and it sounds almost mesmerising with their music playing in the background.

She doesn’t even bother knocking, and simply opens the door with blatant familiarity. Of course she knows the boys well, you chastise yourself. It’s you who’s the outsider.

#bangtan #bts #btsfanfiction #btssmut #bangtanboys #btsimagine #btsstory #jungkook #namjoon #readerxbts #readerxjungkook #bangtan boys #jk

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softpeetabread · 6 years ago

Text

University Life Part 7

This is +7k words long!! I’ve received a lot of feedback for the first few parts and I’m glad that you all are enjoying this seemingly out of control story. Thank you to everyone that has supported this, whether it’s by liking or reblogging. I hope that you all enjoy this new bit!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

The blurred image of rushing trees outside the window had entertained Katniss for a couple of minutes before she felt woozy. She thought she’d been used to watching trees and other types of greenery pass by as she and Peeta drove to school, but this new speed the train brought proved her wrong. She and Peeta were headed to the Capitol for their interview with Caesar Flickerman and she was certain this was also a contributor to her lightheadedness. She decided to focus on Peeta, who sat beside her sketching quietly. She welcomed the peaceful moment because her companion always had that look of concentration on his face as he undoubtedly immersed himself in the vision present in his mind. There seemed to be a world that only he could see and he presented it beautifully through his artwork.

They weren’t alone on their trip, though, much to Katniss’s chagrin. Amongst the phone calls they had received after the news that they had been in touch with Caesar, one of his colleagues had contacted them about being their escort and would help them with getting ready for the interview. Effie Trinket had gone on and on about how fabulous it would all be, and how this trip coincided with her return to the Capitol after spending some time in District 12 with her boyfriend, who she was bringing along. Katniss would have cared less about this woman’s personal affairs if it hadn’t involved her dear uncle Haymitch. He was such a recluse that she wondered how he talked to people, but it turned out he could be social if he wanted to, or if he was coaxed into those situations. Katniss wrinkled her nose when Effie said she and Haymitch were dating because there was no way her uncle—so curt, unruly, and insufferable—could charm someone as bubbly and enthusiastic as Effie. Yet there was little she could do to protest their company. Effie had a job to do and Haymitch did know a thing or two about the Capitol himself after going back and forth for his involvement with the military. It’s funny how small the world truly was.

It's not that she was embarrassed of her uncle (although, she held a different opinion about his drinking problem), but he and Katniss had the tendency to argue and she could be quite aggressive with him when he pushed her buttons. It was the complete opposite with Peeta who made her feel relaxed. She hadn’t put those two sets of emotions together, at least not in a long time, so she worried about coming off as hostile to Peeta. For now, Haymitch and Effie had left them alone and she didn’t even want to wonder what those two were up to.

Surprisingly, Peeta and Haymitch got along, or at least they could hold a decent conversation unlike when Katniss talked to her uncle. His talent for speaking and using the correct words people wanted to hear always impressed her because it was just talking, but there was something about Peeta that made everything he said believable and soothing.

Katniss was curious to see what Peeta was sketching, but she thought against stealing a peek since she didn’t want to disrupt his concentration. Instead, she studied his face and noticed how long and blond his eyelashes were, casting shadows over his eyes as he blinked. She wondered how they didn’t tangle together or if he ever realized how thick they were.

There was a moment where he lost his focus and looked up to meet her eyes. How long had she been staring at him? Two minutes? Two hours? Regardless of the time, Katniss felt heat rush to her face as she turned away, fighting a smile.

“What were you looking at?” Peeta asked.

“Your eyelashes…I was wondering what they’ll look like with all the make-up they’ll put on you.” She could have been honest and told him how pretty she thought they looked, but she couldn’t let him know that. However, she wasn’t lying when she mentioned the make-up.

Effie had mentioned they would have a stylist and a prep team to get them ready, which meant having their hair and make-up done in addition to having wardrobe they would provide. Katniss thought it was a waste of time and money, but it was the Capitol and they wanted for everyone to be full of glitter and shine.

Peeta chuckled. “Hopefully, we’re able to keep our faces. Have you seen what they look like?”

Katniss laughed at his implication. “They do look ridiculous with so many alterations they get done.”

“I guess having make-up on would be relatively harmless and normal.” Peeta made a good point, but she wondered if they could object to anything they didn’t agree with or if they had to go with whatever their prep team proposed.

They heard a shift from the door and Effie came through with a folder in her hand. “Alright, children. Let’s work on your interview. I have a list of questions Caesar may ask you, though know he won’t make them all in one night. You have to be prepared to answer the ones he decides to give you, and he may even make some up on the spot.”

Katniss’s talents did not include public speaking. Just thinking about being in front of people made her nervous, and having cameras zoom in on her face set off a new kind of anxiety she didn’t recognize. Even if she tried to convince herself that it would be fine because she was doing this for Peeta, she couldn’t help feel her stomach curl and stir. Effie would be helping them work on their answers and give them a mock interview, but even with the practice, she was afraid she would mess up. She wondered how Peeta could do these kinds of things without feeling nervous. He was confident and sure of himself when addressing people, making him quite popular amongst different groups at their university.

She didn’t know what she expected from the set of questions Effie had, but at least they weren’t as difficult to answer as she had thought. They were more or less basic, asking where they came from and what they were studying; what plans they have for the future; what they do on their spare time; how Peeta developed his talent and how he found inspiration for his fiery piece. Perhaps it was because they were students and not celebrities, but if they were going to get asked those sorts of things, then she didn’t feel she should worry so much about what to answer. They spent around three hours working on them, though, and Effie gave them advice on how to answer, which gave Katniss the impression that she and Peeta had to be extremely polite and mind their manners. It was all about manners with her.

That led to their escort evaluating the way they walked and moved, too. Effie sent Peeta to Haymitch so she and Katniss could work on her etiquette, and even though it pained Katniss to watch him leave them alone, at least he wouldn’t see how humiliating this type of training was. There were a lot of things Katniss couldn’t predict, but she was sure that this whole ordeal was made so she wouldn’t have the slightest ounce of peace of mind. It would have helped if Effie hadn’t been such a drama queen about every little thing they did, but Katniss tried to keep her cool, taking deep breaths and thinking about other things besides walking out of the room or ripping Effie’s papers in half to shut her up. She was not only here to help Peeta, but she was also Haymitch’s girlfriend and the last thing Katniss needed was to upset her.

“You must walk like a lady, Katniss,” Effie said for the third time after Katniss walked from one end of the train cart to the other.

“Will they even notice if I miss a couple of steps?” Katniss asked with slight irritation in her voice.

“Of course they will. They will notice every two steps, every step, every half-step. Your posture, your strut. It’s all important.”

Katniss did her best to walk the way Effie instructed and once she was satisfied, she had her practice with a pair of heels. They were too tall, too thin, and they pinched her toes, so Katniss had a difficult time adjusting to them and relied on holding on to one of the seats. She wondered if there was any way she could use her own shoes, but she doubted that would be negotiable. Effie took her hand and helped steady her, and Katniss was able to practice for a couple of rounds before she walked on her own with the monstrous heels.

“Does Peeta have to worry about any of this?” Katniss asked.

“That’s why I shooed him away. Haymitch is helping him,” Effie said as she looked over Katniss. “Pick up your chin and square your shoulders; you’re slumping.”

Katniss was not about to hear her say these things more than once so she tried learning quickly. She had to give her credit, though, for taking her job seriously.

“Why my uncle though?”

Effie gave her a mischievous smile. “Well, I have to put him to use, too. We can’t have him just drinking up the whole bar without earning it first.” She gave Katniss another look and bit her lip. “Hm, maybe if I put a book on your head, that would help you…”

With a forced smile on her lips, Katniss stood as straight as she could, sticking out her chest to prove she was doing everything Effie said. “Do we really need to use a book, Effie? I’m learning a lot from your instructions.”

“I’m not entirely pleased with this,” Effie pouted. “We’ll reach the Capitol by tomorrow so we can pick up on this again in the hotel. And work on the way you answer questions.”

The dismissal turned Katniss’s forced smile into a genuine grin. Maybe if she hurried, she’d still catch Peeta with her uncle.

Her prediction about Haymitch being at the bar was correct, but Peeta wasn’t with him, which disappointed her. She was about to walk back when her uncle called her to join him for a drink.

“You know I’m not old enough to drink,” she said.

“Then get some lemonade or something,” Haymitch responded, as if it were the logical thing to do.

“Where’s Peeta?”

“Said he’d go to his room. I have a vague feeling he went looking for you, though.”

If there was anything Katniss would order, it’d be another drink for her uncle so he’d leave her alone to find Peeta. However, he was in a rather talkative mood, which meant he was tipsy enough to be conscious and sober yet also enough to lose some of his inhibitions. She sat down on a stool next to him to humor him.

“How’d you manage to land that one?” Haymitch asked before taking a sip from his drink.

Katniss looked at him with confusion, not understanding what he really meant.

Her uncle rolled his eyes before speaking again. “You won’t even talk to a wall, much less people. Yet your friend is someone like him. He talks a lot.”

“Perhaps it was my sunny personality,” she answered sarcastically.

Haymitch snorted and shook his head. “Or you threatened to kill him.”

Katniss glared at him, feeling the annoyance build up in her body. “Let’s say I did. What did you do to convince Effie? Threatened to throw her off a bridge? Cut off her hair?”

“You’d be amazed what I can do while sober,” he said, though he didn’t sound very mocking about it.

After a moment, Katniss sighed and decided to keep some peace since Peeta was on her mind. “We’re childhood classmates. Started talking to one another a few months ago, though. Been friends since.” She took Haymitch’s glass and set it beside her—just enough to keep Haymitch from reaching—deciding to test out just how skilled he was without his liquor. “Your turn.”

Haymitch huffed out a breath through his nose in attempts to relax. “She’s a reporter in charge of District 12 and then transfers the news to the Capitol. There’s been special editions for veterans and we talked. Took her out on a few dates. Now, we’re here.”

“I took you for a hermit,” Katniss chuckled.

“Who says I’m not? Just because I go out in public doesn’t mean I don’t want to go back to my house,” Haymitch said with a scowl. “I took you for a misanthrope.”

“Well, you’re not too far off. I make exceptions, though.”

“Like the boy?” Haymitch asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Katniss took a deep breath as she tried to keep her irritation at bay. What was he getting at? “Yeah, like him.”

“I don’t know how you did it, though. You have the charm of a squirrel that’s been run over,” Haymitch snorted.

“Probably learnt from you since we’re related,” Katniss bit back. There was enough venom in her words to paralyze a person, but she knew Haymitch couldn’t be fazed by them. In part, it was true that she learnt from him to toughen up and have thick skin. His words didn’t usually hurt her and she noticed hers didn’t either. Maybe this was why she didn’t like making friends.

“How’s the interview prep going?” Haymitch tried reaching for his glass, but Katniss pushed it farther away.

“I’m putting my charm to use,” Katniss deadpanned.

Haymitch got up and took a bottle from the other side of the counter. The bartender had gone off and left him, which was a mistake really. “Too bad because in the Capitol, you have to make people like you. With your attitude, you’re not off to a real good start, sweetheart. And if you want for the interview to go well for Peeta, you’re going to have to try a lot harder to not come off as roadkill.”

Now that wasn’t fair! Katniss knew this wasn’t her forte, but it’s not like she wasn’t trying, either.

“Then give me some suggestions.”

Haymitch managed to open the bottle—it was one of those kinds where the aluminum is the only barrier between the liquor and its seeker—and took a swig from it. “Since you can’t borrow charisma from your friend and I can’t give you mine, then find an angle you can use. You’re a young college student. You’re a painter’s muse. Work with it.”

How could she ‘work with’ two details? Effie had said the interview would last anywhere from five to ten minutes, depending on how it progressed and how long Caesar talked, and that terrified Katniss. She gave Haymitch his glass back before hopping off her stool and going to search for Peeta. She found him in his room, looking over the paintings he had brought with him from his apartment. He kept Caesar’s painting in a different room since it was a lot bigger than the rest, which kept prying eyes away from it, including Katniss’s. Peeta wasn’t allowing her to see the final piece, even though she posed for him.

The challenge to make a new painting for Peeta’s commissioner was difficult because he let Peeta decide on what would go on the canvas. After a few days of thinking, Katniss had gotten an idea when the archery shooting range opened up at the gym. Maybe it wasn’t something Peeta would consider, but she would feel the utmost comfortable in her natural habitat. She was glad when Peeta agreed to the idea and decided this time to take pictures of her rather than relying on memory. Katniss knew he would be painting her with a bow and arrow, but the rest of the piece was hard for her to put together. He could do anything, really.

The paintings she could see, however, were in Peeta’s room, carefully stacked against each other, separated by a delicate material provided by the Capitol. He had mentioned to Caesar about his other works and the talk show host was more than happy to have him bring them along. He had friends that showed interest ever since he talked about Peeta and his art. It made Katniss smile knowing that people were supporting Peeta. She had never seen something like this happen, but she was glad to witness it.

“You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with Effie,” she sighed as she took a seat on Peeta’s bed.

“Brutal etiquette classes?” Peeta asked.

“Who knew coordination involved having to think about how you walked?” Katniss took one of the pillows and hugged it. It wasn’t as warm as Peeta, but she’d make do for now.

“I can switch with you, if you want. Your uncle seems to know what he’s doing,” Peeta offered.

Katniss gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks. I just talked to him, though. Gave me a proper pep talk.”

“What’d he say?”

She told him about Haymitch’s advice and what he thought about her and Peeta listened intently. As much as she tried to steer clear of any complaints, her tone gave away that she was evidently bothered by her being in front of a camera.

“I’m not very good at talking to people,” she said with a defeated sigh.

Peeta sat beside her, not being able to hold back a smile. “You’re good at talking to me, though.”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

“How am I different?”

Katniss tried to think of something that set Peeta apart from everyone else, but she wasn’t sure if she could convey it with just words. All this time, he had been worried about not being able to do her justice when she was the one that struggled to do that very thing now. “Well, you’re…you.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “That’s very insightful, Katniss.”

She couldn’t help chuckle at his sarcasm. “You know what I mean!”

“I do and that’s why we’re friends!” As he spoke, he took the tip of her braid and flung it over her back playfully. He seemed to recognize something then. “What if we do that? Play off each other’s banter?”

Katniss tried chewing the idea. “How, though? We’d be talking to Caesar.”

“Yes, but we could also fill in things for one another.”

She tossed him the pillow she had clung to. “That’s not banter, Peeta!”

He set the pillow aside and took her hands in his. “Follow me with this. Whenever you and I talk about the same thing, you light up at some point. I’ve noticed this today, actually. Your uncle gave us a weird look when you started to laugh about something.”

“Did he mention it when he was helping you?” Katniss asked with an arched eyebrow.

“He asked me if you were sick and mentioned you never laugh unless you have a fever,” Peeta chuckled.

“To be fair…he’s right.”

“Then, worst case scenario: we induce a fever for you so you can be giggly with Caesar,” Peeta shrugged, as if doing such a thing could be that easy.

Katniss knew that wouldn’t be necessary. She more or less understood what Peeta said and tried to relax about the subject.

The following morning brought her some more comfort as she and Peeta did what he suggested, in addition to her using Haymitch’s advice. After practicing their interview several times with Effie, she brought in Haymitch to rehearse with them and Katniss tried her best not to be sarcastic while answering him, but there was only so much she could take and realized Caesar could not be as intolerable as her uncle.

Arriving at the Capitol gave her different types of shock, not just the typical one with anxiety. From what she could see through the train’s windows, there were people waiting outside dressed in all sorts of colorful clothing. They were all ridiculous and exaggerated, and after seeing Effie with her voluminous wig and hat, she looked relatively normal, professional even, with her blazer and pencil skirt.

The culture shock set in when she and Peeta stepped off the train and took in the new world they’d been exposed to. District 12 was calm and peaceful with an abundance of nature trails and the woods to provide a tranquil environment. The Capitol, on the other hand, was flashy, full of lights, skyscrapers, billboards, and pollution. It was surprising to see so much artificial color in the sky that Katniss wondered where the energy even came from to power everything. She and Peeta were stunned and looked up to observe the buildings surrounding them. She could see faces of actors and models on advertisements, and a giant screen with Caesar’s face on it promoting his show.

There was a flash of a camera at first to the right of Katniss’s line of sight, followed by a dozen more and at some point, she had to keep her eyes closed in order to regain her focus. There were screams coming from the people that had gathered around the train station, and then it clicked for Katniss that the people weren’t waiting to board the train they had come in, but rather they were waiting to see them and they somehow knew their names because they were screaming them out. It was worse than her classmates back in the university, but at least she had Peeta to guide her away from these people. Effie prompted them to follow her and Katniss hadn’t even noticed she had latched onto Peeta’s hand until he gave hers a squeeze so she could walk with him. She didn’t let him go until they were boarded onto a large white vehicle, but even then, she sat beside him and they were both able to see through the window the eccentricity of the Capitol. Katniss didn’t envy them one bit; she was not a fan of so much light or ostentation. She wondered if Peeta thought differently since he was more open to new environments.

The hotel in which they would be staying was a tall building with countless stories, and Katniss wondered if it had an end to it. The staff wasn’t as colorful as the pedestrians on the outside world, and instead they looked serious and a bit emotionless. For one thing, she was glad about that because she didn’t think she could tolerate the freak show with the abrasive color schemes that were a sight for sore eyes. Once checked in, they were brought up to their room, which was a large suite with three rooms, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and a balcony. This could be a house back in her district for all she knew. Because Caesar had invited them, he would be paying for the expenses, even if Peeta had protested against it. It was strange to Katniss how someone could go out of their way to accommodate them when they hardly knew each other, but something good was happening to Peeta so she would take it for all it was worth.

They still had a couple of hours before their prep teams arrived, so Effie drilled Katniss and Peeta again about their etiquette and answers they would give to Caesar. After covering the same things multiple times, Katniss started to feel confident, but she still didn’t think she could be as self-assured as Peeta.

If Katniss had thought Effie was odd, their prep teams proved that there could be higher levels of strangeness plus more. She had never met someone who could gush and talk so quickly and excitedly as the six people that walked in, speaking to Effie about this and that and things Katniss didn’t understand or care about. It hadn’t been five minutes since the teams’ arrival and she was already getting a headache. Effie introduced Peeta and her to their prep teams and they praised Peeta for his work of art that had, apparently, gotten the Capitol in such a frenzy to know who this talented artist was and why Caesar Flickerman, of all people, was so interested in him and his muse. They looked at Katniss and touched her hair, face, arms, and other places she couldn’t even keep track of due to the commotion these people were making about how exotic and different and beautiful she was. She had thought there was nothing appealing about her; she didn’t know how to be sexy or charming or even coquettish, so there was no point in pondering over how attractive she could be. With so many voices saying she was pretty, gorgeous, stunning, she believed it less. Compliments were supposed to be a one-time thing, weren’t they? The short compliment battles she and Peeta had were different. They were aggressive and competitive and they said the comments in a sort of defying manner, being more of a battle than a compliment. Whoever blushed or laughed first lost and Katniss almost always won. Those were fun because Peeta and her knew how that game worked. Even if they did play it like a game, Katniss usually disguised her comments with actual compliments she was too shy to give Peeta on a normal occasion. The somewhat empty compliments she received from the prep teams weren’t part of the little game they played, though, so she couldn’t take them very seriously.

Being separated from Peeta and brought into different rooms made her feel uneasy, but they couldn’t be kept together. Their procedures weren’t the same and the prep teams had to focus on their assigned person. Katniss suspected this was also to keep them from getting distracted so they could do their jobs properly. Surely, she wouldn’t need so many people getting her ready, but Katniss was proven wrong when her team got to work on different tasks. One prepared a tub full of lotions and creams and other perfumed concoctions while the other two rid her of her body hair. It was painful and a bit invasive, but Katniss couldn’t really object. When it came time to get her into the tub, she felt nervous about being nude in front of her team, but they wasted no time in removing her robe and leaving her naked momentarily before receiving help to soak into the tub. At first, the flurry of flowery-smelling chemicals stung her tender skin, but afterwards, she felt the soothing sensation they were supposed to have on her.

As the three worked—Flavius, Venia, and Octavia—they all talked to one another, occasionally asking Katniss questions before getting back to their conversation. They were excited because they would get to be backstage in Caesar’s studio while Katniss and Peeta had their interview with him, and they would be able to go to parties and more events with more celebrities, and how exciting all that would be. Was Peeta suffering the same way she was or was he tolerating it better?

“What’s it like to be a painter’s muse?” Octavia asked Katniss as she worked on her nails. She had made a face when she saw how short Katniss’s nails were and mentioned she didn’t have much to work with so she made it her mission to give her long, beautiful nails even if they would be fake.

“I’m sure it must feel flattering!” Venia answered for her. “Does he ask you to pose for him for other types of artwork?” She applied a type of foundation that felt cool against Katniss’s face.

Katniss thought of the question as just curiosity, but Venia’s tone was a bit implicative of something she couldn’t figure out and then she became more confused when Flavius and Octavia slapped Venia’s arm playfully, telling her that was a private question. The giggle fit that followed added to Katniss’s confusion.

Given the fact she’d only posed for Peeta once, it wasn’t much of a fantastic experience the way they were all expecting, but at least he let her decide where she wanted to pose. It sounded so simple, though, and these people were so excited. Would it crush them if she gave them the honest truth, or would it satisfy them if she gave a vague yet inflated answer? These people didn’t know Katniss and Peeta. The less they knew, the better for them.

“Well, Peeta makes it a priority to make me feel very comfortable is all I can say,” she shrugged, which wasn’t far from the truth if she thought about it.

That was enough of an answer for them and they continued on with another topic Katniss didn’t bother following. It was difficult to zone out, but she found a way to distract herself by looking at the room she was staying in. She had been guided to sit on a cushioned chair near the window so the illumination of the light coming from it lit up the room splendidly. The colorful lights that came through it were muted enough to not bother Katniss.

It felt like hours had gone by because she was feeling restless and irritated, but once her prep team stepped back to admire their work, she was allowed to stand so she could look at herself. If she complained that they were obnoxious, they made up for that with their ability to transform a person into an ethereal creature because that’s what they did with her. Her hair was adorned into an intricate bun woven with braids; her face was made up with a soft and sweet palette of orange, red, and pink eye shadow and powder, but the false eyelashes gave her eyes more volume and even made them look bigger; and despite the false nails, they looked delicate and elegant with the red nail polish and studded crystals over them. She had never had this type of treatment before. She not only looked otherworldly, but she even looked pretty. Perhaps that was the Capitol effect.

She had been told her stylist, Cinna, would be bringing her dress and other accessories, and she was about to ask for him when a knock on the door answered her thoughts. It opened when her prep team gave the okay to enter and a dark-haired man with gold eyeliner walked in, a dress bag slung over his left shoulder and a large rectangular chest held by his right arm. He set his things down and introduced himself to Katniss before dismissing the excited prep team.

“You two have been making quite a commotion,” he said with a smile.

“Really, it’s all Peeta’s talent. I just so happen to be in the painting,” she answered.

“He must have had a good reason to pick you. Artists take inspiration from the world around them,” Cinna pointed out. He tugged on Katniss’s bun and she felt what must have been a bobby pin slip through her hair.

“He’s a creative person. I don’t think there is anything he can’t put on a canvas.”

Cinna opened the chest he brought and took out five boxes of different sizes before placing them on the chair. He handed one of the smaller boxes to Katniss before speaking.

“Not everyone chooses to play with fire, though. Have you wondered why he decided to have you surrounded by it?”

Katniss wasn’t sure what to expect when she opened the box, but underwear certainly wasn’t it. Of course, the Capitol had thought of everything to provide for her, and surely, Peeta was receiving the same type of treatment. She wondered if he also received a similar box. Would they know he preferred boxers over briefs? The only reason she knew that was because they had gone grocery shopping together so often that in one of their trips, he mentioned he wanted to buy a new pack and she’d accompanied him. Somehow, it hadn’t been discomforting to see the pictures of men’s groins on the labels of the plastic bags and she hadn’t thought of anything in particular when she was with Peeta, even giving her own opinion about what to get. The reverse hadn’t happened, where he’d accompany her to buy her own underwear. She knew she shouldn’t feel self-conscious, but having Peeta know she wore panties didn’t sit too well with her. He probably didn’t care, but she wasn’t ready for that type of experience just yet. It felt a bit ridiculous since she knew what type of underwear he wore and he hadn’t even so much as blushed when she found out.

“No…I assumed he pictured something in his mind and just went for it,” Katniss answered when she was able to find her voice again.

While she changed into her undergarments in the bathroom, Cinna took care of opening the rest of the boxes and taking out their contents, arranging her shoes beside the chair’s leg, and the jewelry she would be wearing on the desk top. He’d taken the dress out of its bag and unzipped it, ready to help slip it on Katniss when she walked out. All the while, they had continued their conversation and she found it so easy to talk to him, almost as easy as it was to talk to Peeta. Katniss felt like she could trust him. Maybe it was his unassuming attitude or his genuine smile, but she didn’t feel like she had to force herself to speak to him.

“I don’t think we should let that inspiration go to waste,” Cinna said as he zipped up her dress. “Hopefully, he doesn’t mind if I borrowed his idea.”

Katniss gave him a curious look. “Will the dress light up?”

“Only if you spin around. Caesar makes a point of asking his female guests to twirl for him. This will definitely make an impression.”

There was a sense of danger coming from the dress and Katniss felt rude for wanting to remove the beautiful red gown she had on. “Is it real fire?”

“No, it’s synthetic. It’ll look real, but that’s the point. It’ll match Peeta’s art with you being on fire.” Cinna’s words were reassuring and helped calm Katniss down, if only for a moment.

With the accessories in place, Katniss could see the sparkle of the earrings and the necklace when light bounced off the jewels while her bracelets looked like delicate flames surrounding her wrists. He helped her with her shoes, which were not as tall as the pair Effie had lent her to practice with on the train, and her look was complete. Despite this, she began to feel anxious, as if she hadn’t prepared enough. The time for the interview was approaching fast and the fact that she was ready to go didn’t make it any easier to process.

“I’m nervous,” she said as Cinna smoothened out her dress.

“Have you ever been interviewed before?” he asked.

“Not on live television. I don’t feel as confident as Peeta does. We’ve talked about what to do in case I freeze, but I don’t feel like it’s enough.”

Cinna pursed his lips in thought. “Why not keep your focus on something else? The cameras can be distracting, but if you look at someone else in the crowd, that would certainly help you.”

Katniss looked at him and thought of something. “Will you be in the crowd?”

With a smile, he nodded and caught on to her idea. “You can find me and pretend you’re talking to me. Pretend you’re answering my questions.”

“Hopefully, it’ll be that easy.”

“Is there anything you and Peeta do that helps comfort you?”

Katniss thought about it for a moment before remembering how she had held on to him as they left the train station. “I usually hold his hand and that helps me.”

Cinna placed individual orange and red crystals on Katniss’s arms and cheek. “Okay, so you have two options to choose from. Focus on either Peeta or me. Caesar won’t let you flounder around, either. Trust me, you’ll be fine and you’ll even enjoy yourself.”

Katniss wanted to believe him. If what he said was true and she could put her focus on these two people, then she was sure the interview would turn out fine. She would have Peeta by her side and he wouldn’t let her choke. Cinna would be in the crowd, surely cheering for her and giving her reassuring looks. Somehow, the pressure to perform well was slowly fading. She would have fun with it.

When she walked out of the room with Cinna, the others were already in the living room waiting for her. Katniss recognized the back of Peeta’s head—he was the only blond in the room—but he looked transformed. He wore a striking black suit with a red tie and cuffs, and his hair was combed back, looking shiny and flawless. They had joked about him getting made-up, but Katniss didn’t see anything on his face other than a bit of powder, which was probably customary for people who appeared on television to wear anyway. She wondered if he, too, would be lit on fire if he spun or did something with his sleeves.

“Look at you, Girl on Fire,” he said as he approached her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, although what she felt was amusement instead of annoyance at his teasing. “We need to give you a nickname, too.”

“I thought it was ‘The Artist’.”

“No, it needs to be a mouthful like mine.”

“Think about it on the drive over to the studio. We have to go already,” Haymitch interrupted.

“Why don’t you stay behind, uncle Haymitch? There’s a bar here,” Katniss suggested, hoping he’d listen to her, but knowing he wouldn’t.

“And pass up the refreshments over at the studio? That’s a trip I have to make, sweetheart.”

Katniss rolled her eyes at him, but the irritation was short-lived. Effie had a planner in her hand and she was marking something off her list before telling everyone that they needed to make their way down in order to head to the studio. A jumpy sensation settled in Katniss’s stomach, but Peeta offered her his arm and she slipped hers under his willingly. Their stylists and prep teams would be accompanying them for any last-minute adjustments, but at least they weren’t going in the same car as Peeta and her. She didn’t think she could handle listening to them talk about nonsense for another minute.

Even with the late afternoon sun, the city looked different from the time they arrived earlier in the morning. It was a sort of transition stage before the night life arrived and Katniss could only imagine what it was like. The arrival to Caesar’s studio had the same reception as the one she and Peeta received at the train station, only this time there were far more people and they were being held back by a thin transparent wall and security guards that were three steps from one another, all lined up. They couldn’t all be here to see them, could they? They weren’t even that well-known and it felt odd that they would be screaming for them. The Capitol must really be fond of artists if there was so much of a commotion already. All Katniss could really do was hold on to Peeta as they were led inside by Effie, who was all too familiar with the procedures.

They were given a printed schedule that she went over with them, which wasn’t much really. Caesar would introduce them, they would have their interview, Peeta would present his painting to Caesar, and then there would be some kind of challenge towards the end. If she had known that they were going to compete in something, she would have brought comfortable shoes with her. Sarcastic remarks aside, she really did wonder what Caesar would have them do. She and Peeta had watched a few episodes of his show to get an idea of what they were walking into, and it made sense that there would be some kind of challenge because Caesar would come up with some strange activities for his guests. Most of it was improvisation, so she wondered what would be set up for them.

The talk show host approached them a few minutes later when he spotted them and he seemed ecstatic at their presence. Compliments were thrown, small talk was made, and the tense atmosphere Katniss had sensed broke when she got familiar with Caesar and his mannerism in the short amount of time they spoke. He explained how the show worked, where they would enter from the stage and where they would take a seat near his desk, and they would have a fabulous time, he was sure of it! He reminded them to wave to the crowd and smile before he left to get ready. A small, electronic box was attached to Peeta’s and Katniss’s hips and microphones were hooked onto the collars of their attire so they could talk through them. Touch-ups for make-up were done by their prep teams. Cheers and encouraging comments were given, though Katniss found it weird that someone would tell them to break a leg. She spotted Cinna and Portia, Peeta’s stylist, sitting in the same row together, and she felt better at the reassurance that not only was someone she knew in the crowd, but Peeta was with her. The smile on his face was the sole reminder that she had come here for him and she wouldn’t have wanted for this to happen any other way. His energy seemed to cross over to her body and the electrifying feeling of adrenaline rushed through her, as if Peeta had given her his good vibes. Of course, they were going into this as one.

The loud, jazzy tune played that signaled the show had begun and Caesar took his place as he began his opening monologue, welcoming the crowd and giving them a brief summary of what the show would contain. There was static that briefly came from Katniss’s microphone and Caesar introduced Peeta and her as his guests. The crew from back stage gave them their cue and Katniss slipped her hand into Peeta’s, holding onto him tightly before walking onto the stage and being met with the rumbling cheers of the crowd that awaited them.

Did you think I was going to pass up the opportunity to include the District 12 Team? By team, I don’t just mean Effie and Haymitch, but the whole styling pack. I, personally, love Hayffie, so I had to add that to this story as well. Did you also think I was going to let K and P go alone to the Capitol? ;)

I picture Caesar to be like a combination of Graham Norton, David Letterman, Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon, and Conan O’Brien. (I watch them sometimes lol.)

I imagine the Capitol to be a mix of New York City, Las Vegas, Hollywood, and Seattle. My brother has gone and he mentioned that people dress rather eccentrically, so while writing this, I pictured them. The Capitol also gives me that casino vibe of LV, the ‘Big City’ vibe from NYC, and the star-studded atmosphere of Hollywood. I’m from a small town in southern Texas and I’ve gone to big cities like Dallas, San Antonio, and Austin. The culture shock wasn’t as great for Dallas and San Antonio, but for Austin, I was quite appalled. I’m open to liberal settings, but I was hit in the face with Austin. So I definitely feel for Katniss and Peeta since they’re from a small town and then they come to the Capitol, which is probably huge and full of lights and they’re probably bugging their eyes out.

Also, Idk about y’all, but I don’t think finding out what type of underwear your friends use is weird. I’ve gone with my best guy friend grocery shopping and he needed new underwear so I browsed with him and gave him some of my opinions. Given that I’m gay, I should have been repelled by all the pictures of guys’ concealed dicks, but it was pretty funny to be there. He’s never gone with me to Victoria’s Secret, but he knows what I wear and I’m fine with that. Katniss isn’t me, though, and I know she’s not the most open to sharing about her body and all that, but I think if she knew what Peeta wore, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe someday, he’ll find out what she wears. ;) As for the compliment battle, if you haven’t seen a video of that from celebrities on youtube, you haven’t lived. The cast of Love, Simon did one and it was great. Usually, the battles I have with friends aren’t written tweets; we just say things like “You’re cute.” “Your FACE is cute.” “Hey, BITCH, I love YOU.” Stupid shit like that in a very aggressive tone. P and K wouldn’t swear at each other, I can’t picture either of them calling each other bitch, but maybe little shit sometimes. I have been listening to the comments about hotel shenanigans and believe me, I will get to that! We just have to get through the next part, which is their interview. I will try to update next weekend. School is starting this Monday and I’m also moving into my apartment so I have a busy weekend. Fingers crossed that I can get to writing something during some of my free time. Let me know what you think!

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark fanfiction #the hunger games #fanfiction #fran writes #university life #it's been a stressful few days but it's finally posted #here's a tiny bit of hayffie

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mykidsgay · 6 years ago

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I’m Nervous to Meet My Daughter’s Girlfriend

“I need some help because I’m kinda panicking over here... my daughter is bringing her girlfriend home next week and, while I ok’d it and said I wanted to meet her (this is the first time I will be meeting one of my daughter’s significant others since she came out), all of a sudden I’m getting really nervous! What if I say the wrong thing? What if it’s awkward? My husband is less excited about meeting her, which only makes me more nervous about how it will all unfold. Help!!”

Question Submitted Anonymously Answered by Polly and Shelby Kim

Polly and Shelby Say:

Hi there! First of all, it’s great that you want to meet your daughter’s girlfriend and that she’s coming over. If your daughter is bringing her girlfriend home, then she must want you to meet her girlfriend and for her girlfriend to meet you. That’s a good sign! She doesn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed of her girlfriend or of you, and she’s not too worried that you’ll say the wrong thing or that it will be awkward. She must know that you support her and love her. It’s normal for you to feel a little nervous, but let’s see if we can reduce the panic and ensure that the girlfriend feels welcome and comfortable in your home.

Are you nervous because you’re meeting your daughter’s significant other for the first time, or because the significant other is a girlfriend? It’s normal to feel nervous about your child bringing home a significant other, regardless of gender. This is an important person in her life—it will be exciting to meet her, and you want to make a good impression. You being a little nervous is normal, and it shows you care a lot and want to support her relationship and don’t want to do anything to mess it up.

If the nerves are because you’re still coming to terms with your daughter’s sexuality, that’s okay too. Seek support and resources, such as your local PFLAG chapter or the PFLAG National website, other articles on this website, and the book This is a Book for Parents of Gay Kids. If your daughter only recently came out, it’s normal to not be fully comfortable with her having a girlfriend yet. Even if you feel totally fine with her being queer, knowing she has a girlfriend and you’re about to see them together may make it more “real” and bring out more feelings that you are yet to work through.

Since you are worried about maybe saying the wrong thing, it being awkward, and how it will all unfold, prepare ahead of time and discuss some things with your husband and your daughter so everyone has the same expectations and there are no big surprises. It seems like your husband’s feelings and possible reactions are worrying you, so I recommend you have a talk with him. Share the helpful resources you discover and listen to his concerns. When the girlfriend arrives is not the time to find out how he really feels. If you can’t totally bring him on board supporting this relationship, at least agree on how he will act to avoid negativity during the visit. Discuss sleeping arrangements ahead of time and come to an agreement so you present a united front. Let your daughter know your decision ahead of time so any disagreements won’t occur in front of her girlfriend.

Lastly, talk to your daughter. Ask how she and her girlfriend reference their relationship. Never call her girlfriend her “friend”—that makes it seem like you are not taking their relationship seriously or you are trying to hide it. Ask if and how they want to meet and be introduced to relatives and friends during the visit. Discuss what they want to do during the visit, how much alone time and space they want vs. family activities. Talk to your daughter about what her girlfriend will call you and your husband, and whether a hug would be welcome as you greet each other. Let your daughter know that you are looking forward to meeting her girlfriend, and make sure she has told her girlfriend that you are supportive of their relationship.

It’s also ok to let your daughter know that you are a little nervous for the visit because you want this to go well. Ask her if she has any worries and for advice on avoiding faux pas. What does she hope the meeting will be like, and what are her expectations? Ask her if she has met her girlfriend’s parents and how that went, and how it could have been more comfortable for her.

Above all, try to remember what it was like meeting your significant others’ parents when you were dating, and having them meet your parents. If having your parents tell embarrassing stories about your childhood and showing photos taken during puberty was awkward, you know you should avoid that. You want to be friendly, welcoming, and supportive, but you know you shouldn’t overdo it. Be yourself. If yourself dresses in rainbows and has Pride flags all over the house, so be it, but don’t try too hard to make a big deal about this being a same-sex relationship. Show genuine interest in your daughter’s girlfriend, and strike a balance between being interested and grilling her with questions. She is probably more nervous than you are, as the outsider coming into your home. Don’t worry about being perfect—she’ll remember how you made her feel, not exactly what you said. Welcome her and make her feel accepted, and enjoy meeting this special person in your daughter’s life!

***

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#my kid is gay #parent advice #parents #parenting #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia

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happymetalgirl · 6 years ago

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10 MORE albums I missed in 2017

Okay, so I’m feeling like a real numskull for this one here, not for missing out on talking about these albums in the first place last year, but because I already did a piece about albums I missed last year, and somehow completely forgot to include some of the albums I’m going to talk about here. Some of these I found out about this year and am giving my belated thoughts on because I think they deserve it. But some of these... I was just sterpid, and forgot to talk about them in the post I ALREADY DID about albums I forgot to talk about.

Anyway! Here we go, ten more albums I missed in 2017.

Arckanum - Den Förstfödde

This was one of the albums that made me originally want to make the first installment of posts on albums I missed last year, but in my infinite idiocy, I somehow left it out. And since Arckanum's mastermind, Johan Lahger, has now retired the project this year to focus on his writing career, I definitely wanted to talk about his last album under the Arckanum name. The occult mystique that has overlaid Arckanum's intimidating black metal aura from the start is here on Den Förstfödde as well. And this album ends Arckanum's artistic journey with such ritualistic and meditative tranquility amid the expansive spiritual darkness it conveys, and it does so quite powerfully, with a great, well-versed blend of slow-burning grooves and dark atmospherics to wrap everything great about Arckanum up in one final dark atmosphereic swell of slightly experimental, minimal, black metal. Another addition, a final addition, to the Arckanum legacy, Den Förstfödde is a grand and fitting conclusion to the catalog of one of black metal’s truly unique contributors.

Loss - Horizonless

I had heard a fair amount of hype surrounding this debut album, but I never really got around to checking it out somehow until earlier this year. A bit more of a slow drone-y sort of doom release, Horizonless is an example of something that usually isn't my cup of tea, but ended up being pretty potent and immersive. The band do focus on the more morose and mournful side of the genre, and they show themselves to be quite adept for the most part when it comes to capturing that doom somber. It's a sufficiently long project, but one that doesn't overstay its welcome, a good starting point for the band, but I think they are going to have to do some work on their compositional approach if they're to make a more noticeable mark on doom metal in the coming years. They have the sound narrowed down, and they do show some pretty impressive writing chops on certain tracks on here. I would just love to see this band take this sound to its highest heights with compositions that lend themselves more fully to the tone the band works best with.

Vader - Dark Age

This album came out at the tail end of 2017, and even though I was desperately looking for something better to end my year's worth of discussions on than Asking Alexandria's self-titled disaster, Vader's Dark Age didn't seem like the right kind of release (a compilation album of rerecordings of songs from the band's debut album) to end the year with. Also, it came out four days before the new year, while I was working on my year-in-review lists, hardly enough time to digest the thing and present my thoughts on it. However, as I've come back to this thing a few more times throughout this year, I've found the band's modern approach to their old songs an interesting alternative album experience at least. The steadfast death metal traditionalists make predictably little effort to shake up their sound stylistically, but this album, a rarity of its type, serves as a fascinating exhibit of a close comparison of old and new, showcasing how different they sound on the production fronts, where they differ compositionally, but also how the style of old would fare in today's studios.

Venom Inc. - Avé

I don’t exactly know what kind of Queensrÿche-esque split Venom is undergone, but I can say that this Venom Inc. offshoot has brought a more ambitious and refreshingly modern set of songs to the table than what Venom have been bringing for the past however-many years now. I have seriously not paid Venom much attention since hearing some of the goofy tracks off their previous few albums and giving up most hope of Cronos trying to seriously update his band’s prototypic sound. As vibrant and gruff as Avé is, however, it’s still incredibly drawn out and mostly just a surface-level modernization of the band’s evil thrash metal sound. Still, I appreciate the effort to bring a little bit of the kind of epic bombast akin to the likes of Behemoth to this album, and if this new appendage of Venom really puts its creative head down and focuses on trimming the fat and playing to the strengths of Tony Dolan’s gruff snarls and Jeff Dunn’s knack for groovy rhythms, they can make themselves a name to continue to keep an eye out for.

Godflesh - Post Self

I'm still not sure how exactly I missed a new Godflesh album last year, but it was pretty crazy last year; I remember only hearing of a new Morbid Angel album coming down the pipes about a week or so before it's release, so I guess I'm not super surprised. But either way, it was a pretty unexpected release, somehow. Anyway, Godflesh followed up 2014's fantastic A World Lit Only by Fire with Post Self, an album that leans a little bit more on its portion of atmosheric experimental industrial pieces than its predecessor, but one that is not without its infectious, beat-driven cuts as well. Post Self is mostly the expected continuation of Godflesh’s extraordinarily flawless industrial metal legacy. The ingredients haven’t really changed all that much, but they never really have, and yet something about Godflesh’s consistency remains admirable in a way that hasn’t staled the way the singular motives and predictability of bands like Slayer, Megadeth, or AC/DC have all transformed from selling points to fans’ clamor for something different. Godflesh don’t really deviate, and it’s perhaps because they have such a dominant reign over their musical territory, and Post Self is as solid of a reinforcement of their stronghold as any. All in all though, it's as solid as any album by the mighty and reliable Godflesh, and one I wish I had gotten to sooner before it started distracting me from 2018's metal.

Artificial Brain - Infrared Horizon

The potential for a future, technologically induced apocalypse at the hands of AI seems like the perfect subject matter at the perfect time for a technical death metal project like this, and the sci-fi-minded Artificial Brain seem like just the group to make a statement on the subject. I enjoyed their Labyrinth Constellation album from 2014 for its merits as a solid, virtuosic death metal album, but I was looking for the band to expand their sound a bit more on Infrared Horizon. I don't base my critiques off what I was hoping for from a particular album, and I won't do this album that unusual unfairness here. But man did it feel like a missed opportunity, one the band luckily still has. They could have done so much more than simply spit out more instrumental prowess, which is fine and dandy by its own merits once again. But I was really hoping their expression of the celestial would involve more than the usual sustained dissonant guitar chords and their embodiment of the technological would involve more than robotic technicality. Complex drumming, dissonant guitar atmospherics, tasty slaps of unsubmissive bass, nasty snarls, deep and entirely unintelligible growls: this album has all the ingredients to make your usual techdeath chicken noodle soup. And that's kind of all the album amounts to, a slush of technical wankery. The few times the album ascends beyond techdeath's basic standards, it reveals the band's excellent writing chops and creativity, like the dynamic and bass-heavy "Static Shattering", that I wish popped up more frequently on this album. It's not bad by any techdeath standards, but it seems like this group are punching a bit below their weight, I hope. Definitely still worth the time to digest and appreciate.

Replacire - Do Not Deviate

I heard the hype around Replacire’s Do Not Deviate a little bit late (as in earlier this year), but I have not really connected with that hype. It’s an animated and dynamic progressive death metal release, but the sophomore project still has its kinks to work out, and I didn’t completely see what all the fuss was about. It’s definitely a cut above most of the techdeath crop, but I think there is definitely growth to be done upon the ground laid by this record in the small areas. The band clearly know what they’re doing when it comes to the basics of techdeath (as much of an oxymoron as that might seem to be), it’s just those few quirks to figure out and mold into an identifiably unique sound for the band. The quality playing and presentation of what Replacire are technically and imaginatively capable of does, of course, make a great case for the potential this band has, so I will be looking out for the mastery of the madness strewn about this album on their future releases.

Scour - Red

I didn't really pay Scour much attention when their first EP, Grey, dropped in 2016, mostly because the thought of Phil Anselmo trying his hand at black metal seemed kind of goofy and like something that wouldn't end well. I thought this project would fizzle away not long after this second EP, but that was entirely me judging the book by its cover. One day earlier this year I figured that since they were just EPs I'd check 'em out, why the hell not? And I was pleasantly surprised with both. It's not the most groundbreaking black metal around, but it's hardly the amateurish embarrassment I thought it would be. Even though the black metal vocal style Phil employs on here isn't nearly as technical as his usual melodic gruffness or even other black metal vocal styles, his continued exploration of different techniques at his age continues to impress me. And he still manages to maintain his unique tone and tambre while implementing these new styles. As for how it compares to their first EP, Red is rather stylistically similar and similarly compositionally consistent, but it finds them seemingly more confident on all fronts: Phil with his improved black metal screams, his integration of his lower register growls, and the well-versed band (comprised of members of Pig Destroyer and former Cattle Decapitation bassist, Derek Engeman, who brings that band's guitar style all across the two records as a highlight feature) with their more confident writing and bolder instrumental performances. This EP and the last both possibly benefit from the potential hiding of any major compositional incompetence in the consistently short run times of the twelve tracks between them, but Scour's channeling of the sardonic, nihilistic side of black metal with compelling conviction across these tracks is respectable at the very least. Scour is no novelty side project and far more than just a curious experiment for Phil. The group has the chops to justify their entrance into the readily scornful territory of black metal. Perhaps these short, small releases mark the extent of their creativity, but perhaps not. I'm very curious now as to where this project will go from here and what they might put forth on a full-length.

Amenra - Mass VI

I have stated don't like when bands name albums based on how many albums they have, but I should probably clarify that it doesn't bug me as much when it plays a clear role in their artistic intention as opposed to a lazy showboat of "look how many albums we've made". I don't mind Amenra's numbering of their albums as "masses" because they clearly put effort into embodying a metallic version of that traditional Catholic ritual (even if it's not as true to an integration of those traditional musical elements as Batushka are). Mass VI is perhaps the culmination of the band's work up until this point, with a steady improvement on their sludgy post-metal sound showing signs of crystalizing here on this record. It's not a particularly long album, but it does what it needs to in the time it has, and that is to set and maintain an atmosphere. Amenra do well to capture a sense of liturgical ambiance amid the clashes of sounds they play with across Mass VI, and they do well to expand on them beyond the simple fundamentals of post-metal mood-setting with some truly dynamic shifts between somber, sweetly sung ambiance and soulful crescendos of guitar distortion.

Heresiarch - Death Ordinance

This album is one I found out about this year, completely randomly. I was in a record store and I stumbled upon the band's EP, Hammer of Intransigence. I had never heard it and it was relatively cheap so I just went for it. I then went to find the rest of the band's catalog and found that they had released their first LP last year, Death Ordinance. The lesson from this I suppose is that I'm sure as long as I'm around, I will never find or cover everything I like from a certain year in that year. There will always be stuff I go back and find that I wish I would have known about earlier. As thorough as I am being this year, I'm sure I'll look back and find something I missed, possibly a favorite new artist I didn't even hear of this year. And that to me is wonderful, I'm so glad there is so much metal out there to find and enjoy through this constantly exciting musical journey. Death Ordinance is a meager, but solid enough gruff death metal project that focuses on drawn out sections of low-register guitar groove and bellowing growls to carry its dismal moods. I think the band will need to work on the arrangement of those grooves into more intentional structures on long-form projects like this going forward, but it's a decent enough start.

And that's it for albums I missed in 2017. I'm sure there's still plenty out there that I just have not heard that I am missing that I would love to not be missing, but for now, this is it.

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acatnamedlulu · 7 years ago

Text

My Thoughts on Channel Awesome- Part 1: The Walkers

So, full disclosure, this is going to get dramatic. This isn’t going to be an “objective look” on the whole controversy surrounding Channel Awesome. This is going to be a biased, unfiltered rant. And it’s gonna get loooooooooong. I’ll put a TL;DR at the end of this, and I’ll try and keep the deep anger and frustration to a minimum to prevent any rambling tangents or “CAPZLOCK YELLING BCUZ I AM ANGER, RRAAAAGH!”

Ok, I’m sure many of you already know by now the recent shitstorm of events surrounding Channel Awesome over the past couple weeks, but for those of you unaware, how about a little context:

A few weeks ago (at the time of this posting), several former producers/content creators of Channel Awesome compiled a 70+ page google document titled “Not So Awesome”, each detailing their own shitty experiences working at Channel Awesome. Many of these allegations range from minor jabs, to full legitimate complaints regarding Doug and Rob Walker and especially Channel Awesome CEO Mike Michaud’s behavior. So while maybe one or two points brought up in the document could come off as petty, or just throwing shade, I don’t think that’s a reason to discredit the entire thing.This is nearly a dozen or so ex-producers affiliated with the “TGWTG” website as early as 2008, all with their own experiences and grievances. And even though everyone has a different story to tell, they all seem to be tied together by the same goddamn themes: Not just about the shitty behavior/poor business etiquette of Mike Michaud, but also poor behavior by the Walkers. And although Michaud is absolutely the worst out of all the people being named, I wanna talk about Doug Walker first. And by extent Rob Walker. Although, Rob is more of an issue when it comes to the business end of Channel Awesome as opposed to the actual entertainment, so maybe I’ll talk about him more when I go into a rant about Michaud. Granted, I have a feeling that my opinions on the Walkers are going to be met with a more negative response, and believe me, I completely understand why, but just... just here me out. More bullshit context and backstory, oh happy fucking day!

Alright, so when I was a dumb, hormonal young teen exploring her “edgy” side, I came across the Nostalgia Critic circa 2009-10ish? And after finding the character’s harsh judgement, foul colorful language, and humorous approach to critiquing to be right up my alley, I became an extremely loyal fan of TGWTG. Even after the NC reboot in 2013, I still stuck around and tuned in every week. For as much as I hated some of those goddamn skits, and clipless reviews, I still wanted to hear Doug’s opinion on a movie. He helped me understand film on a critical level that I didn’t think I could reach. And while I don’t consider myself a “critic” in any sense of the word, it was cool to have someone help guide me through an entire medium and look at it in a meaningful and thoughtful way. I eventually started watching Doug and Rob out of character, and both of them seemed like passionate, humble people who enjoy what they do. Watching the NC behind the scenes were sometimes more fun than watching an episode because Doug Walker truly looks like a man who’s dedicated to his work. But as I say this now, this also seems to be one of his biggest flaws. I know this is already longer than it has any business being, but the reason I’m going on this lengthy diatribe, is because I need you guys to understand where I’m coming from, and why I have such a strong stance on this. Which is why I’ll finally get to my fucking point:

I think Doug Walker needs to be held more accountable for his actions. Or at least his actions need to be taken more seriously/into consideration.

As stupid as this sounds, this has been bugging me since the day the “Not so Awesome” google document has been released. Not so much the contents of the document itself, but rather, some of the reactions around it. The general consensus is that Mike Michaud is a terrible person, and something absolutely needs to be done about him... which is absolutely true. But what bothered me is people’s quick need to, maybe not justify, but brush over the shit that Doug has caused too. One of the biggest issues that many of the producers discuss in the document is the absolute production hell of the CA anniversary movies.

From “Kickassia” all the way up to “To Boldly Flee”, it just baffles me how incompetent and incapable Doug Walker is, both at making a film, and caring for his crew at even the bare minimum. Going back and watching TBF, you don’t even have to read the full extension of what it was like working on the set, because you can practically see it on the actors’ faces! You can just feel the exhaustion of everybody involved except Doug, but that’s because the man was so severely wrapped up in this self-serving ego project, that everyone else gets stepped on as a result. Remember what the stupid plot of TBF was anyway? The Nostalgia Critic brings everyone from CA into space to fight an anomaly called a “plot hole”, only for the NC to make his big damn sacrifice and die as the noble hero, killing off the character for good... until the reboot in 2013. With none of the other producers being notified of this until they received their scripts just a few weeks before filming.Yeah, it’s kinda fucking heartbreaking to know that other contributors and producers were treated as such an afterthought, that they were told this information in this short amount of time, in a movie that they were starring in.

Several people have pointed out the lack of basic necessities needed on a film set such as catering and water. Guys, this isn’t a group of kids dicking around with a camera and a computer for a few hours and making a home movie. This was an actual production supervised by grown adults who needed to be told during filming that “people need food and water”. Across the course of several films. One of which was filmed in the Nevada desert. How difficult would it have really been to stop off at a fucking Walmart, gather up some coolers and ice bags, some of those 24 packs of water in bulk and keep it at a safe location on the damn set? This isn’t something that requires a goddamn film degree to understand, it’s common fucking sense. It’s just baffling to me that these painstaking efforts from the producers were just “voluntary” positions, too. The document itself goes into much more detail of how that shit works, so I’ll be posting it at the end of this rant, you’re welcome.

And this is where I draw the line of giving Doug a pass. You can’t convince me that this level of negligence is just some kind of mistake that can be easily forgiven. I can’t believe that people can defend Doug on the grounds of “well, he’s just the pawn in this” or “he was just being naive and selfish”. No, this type of naivete and lack of basic human decency has caused people physical harm. Several actors sustained injuries throughout the production of the anniversary films. This usually ended with both Doug and Rob shrugging some of these off, while others had to sign contracts in order for CA to avoid a lawsuit. That is fucking insane!

A couple producers in the document recall how Doug was more involved with the business aspect of CA. He was more than just a puppet for Mike Michaud. Remember, the anniversary movies were written by him and Rob. And while Michaud was most likely the one who had the final say of what went on, Doug was the overseer of these projects. These were his creations, and he should have taken full responsibility for what was going on. And for him to have such a cynical and uncaring approach to the treatment of both the characters within the film, and the producers portraying them is sickening. This man has put on the persona of being this nice, approachable, easy to work/converse with person for years, and to hear how egotistical and negligent he truly is. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there was always something a bit self-centered about Doug, but knowing what I know now... like, it’s hard to explain why I feel so guilty about supporting Doug for as long as I did. I know we all can say “oh, well, it’s not like we knew”, but see, the thing is, I kind of did. The incidents with Obscurus Lupa weren’t completely unknown beforehand. Since like, 2015, people have been bringing this shit up, and I willingly chose to ignore it because I was such a huge NC fan. I just blindly kept watching the show and pretending CA was this cool, friendly place and nothing was wrong. Yeah, I’m not gonna act like I’m such a good person for bashing Doug, and I know that I shouldn’t have had such blind support. But the good news is, I don’t now. I know better, and I hope we all can move on from this, and learn.

Ok, so going back and reading this overly dramatic tripe, I realize I may have gone off the rails at some points. So before this turns into an “amateur hour smear campaign”, I think I’m going to split this up into two parts. I already said all I want to say about Doug and Rob. But I still have issues with Mike Michaud that are probably the same opinions everyone and their mother has expressed on this insane human being. But I still wanna get some stuff off my chest. Anyway, this is now Part 1 of the “Lunatic ravings of a disgruntled former fangirl” saga, maybe some of you would like to join me for My Thoughts on Channel Awesome Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

and now for the TL;DR

I think Doug Walker is an inept, egotistical man who has hurt people both emotionally, and sometimes physically to get what he wants. And people shouldn’t excuse his actions just because he doesn’t run the CA site in the way Mike Michaud does. If he’s going to go through the trouble of making a fucking movie, especially one that’s nearly four hours long, he should make sure the crew is at least hydrated and not exhausted all the goddamn time. Doug is a grown ass man, and he should carry these responsibilities like an adult. Maybe then, the CA anniversary movies would be at least a little less cringey to watch. Rant on Michaud coming soon. Peace out, dickholes.

The “Not So Awesome” document

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WZFkR__B3Mk9EYQglvislMUx9HWvWhOaBP820UBa4dA/preview#heading=h.smmxroimnosh

#changethechannel #channel awesome #nostalgia critic #i immediately regret this #get to the point

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theliberaltony · 5 years ago

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s weekly politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

sarahf (Sarah Frostenson, politics editor): On Monday, a new national Monmouth poll found that Joe Biden’s status as the 2020 Democratic front-runner may be in jeopardy. The former vice president is no longer the sole candidate at the top of the pack: Rather, the pollster found him, at 19 percent support, in a three-way tie for first with Sens. Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders, both at 20 percent.

Of course, this is just one poll and Biden still has the highest polling average at 28 percent, according to Real Clear Politics. But it’s also possible that the dynamics of this race, which up until this point have been pretty stable, are finally shifting, with Biden on the decline and Warren and Sanders on the upswing.

In fact, could Warren be the new front-runner? She and Sanders are neck and neck in their RCP polling averages — and according to The Economist’s polling average, she’s actually now in second. What’s more, since Warren entered the race in January, she has steadily moved from polling in the single digits and fifth or sixth place nationally to the double digits and second and third place. So what evidence do we have to support the idea that Warren in the lead (or close to it)? Or if you don’t think Warren is the front-runner, who do you think is?

nrakich (Nathaniel Rakich, elections analyst): I think Biden is still pretty clearly the front-runner. The vast majority of polls still give him a healthy lead.

natesilver (Nate Silver, editor in chief): She’s not in the lead nationally. You could maaaaaayayayayayayaybe convince me that she’s the most likely to win the nomination, though.

nrakich: That said, if your question is, “Is Elizabeth Warren one of the two most likely Democratic nominees?” I would answer yes for sure.

natesilver: C’mon, that’s a cop-out, Nathaniel!

sarahf: srsly

ameliatd (Amelia Thomson-DeVeaux, senior writer): Could we say that she is a front-runner? I think that’s becoming more and more plausible, and also maybe less of a cop-out.

Warren’s slow but steady growth in support is worth taking very seriously. Maybe she’s not the front-runner but she’s an increasingly serious threat to Biden.

And given the fact that we’ve heard over and over again that voters are concerned about nominating a woman, Warren’s increasing support is that much more impressive.

natesilver: I’d say she’s one of the 20 most likely winners.

nrakich: Fine, I’ll rephrase — I think Warren is the second-most likely nominee.

I still think Biden is the most likely.

Flag, planted.

natesilver: I feel like someone has to play devil’s advocate here.

Maybe I’ll do that? Even though I’m not totally sure I buy it?

sarahf: So, I realize Monmouth is just one poll. And of course, Monmouth wasn’t even the only poll to drop Monday. Morning Consult also released its weekly tracking poll, which found Biden in the lead with 33 percent, Sanders in second with 20 percent and Warren in third at 15 percent. So Nathaniel is right that Biden is still the front-runner — I’m not really disputing that.

What I am curious to know is whether the tides are changing and there is evidence that Warren could usurp the lead.

natesilver: Oh, my devil’s advocate case wouldn’t even reference the Monmouth poll at all. Because I’m a good devil’s advocate, not a facetious one.

sarahf: Ha, so what’s the devil’s advocate argument here?

natesilver: The devil’s advocate case is just that she’s been moving up steadily, she’s the most likely candidate to win Iowa, she has the best favorables in the field, she might have the best campaign organization and Biden — although probably a little UNDER-rated on balance — has a lot of vulnerabilities.

sarahf: Huh, I guess I don’t think of that as a devil’s advocate argument. Sounds like an explanation for why Warren is now in second or third, depending on what polling average you look at, and a reason why she might continue to climb upward in the polls.

nrakich: Here’s how I think the argument goes for why Warren isn’t in first place today but might wind up on top: We don’t hold a national primary day. If we did, Biden would be on much safer ground with his polling lead. But as it stands, Warren has a clear path to winning the first three primary states:

As Nate alluded to, Warren is a good fit for Iowa. She has led some polls there, and she’s not that far behind Biden in others. Relatedly, Biden is relatively weak in Iowa, as Nate wrote recently — he has just the fifth-best favorable rating of any candidate there. (And guess who’s in first?)

Warren is better-liked than Biden in Iowa

Average favorability of Democratic primary candidates in Iowa polls

Favorable Unfavorable Candidate Strongly Somewhat Total Somewhat Strongly Total Warren 46% 34% 80% 6% 4% 11% Harris 40 33 73 6 4 10 Buttigieg 40 32 72 5 3 7 Sanders 32 37 68 15 9 24 Biden 31 36 67 16 8 24 Booker 22 42 63 10 3 13 Klobuchar 15 34 49 11 3 15 Castro 14 34 48 7 3 10 O’Rourke 12 40 52 13 6 19 Gillibrand 8 33 40 14 6 20 Gabbard 7 25 32 13 7 20 Delaney 5 20 25 13 7 20 Yang 5 18 23 14 6 19 Bullock 5 16 21 8 3 11 de Blasio 3 19 22 24 11 35 Bennet 3 16 19 9 3 12 Williamson 2 9 10 17 14 31 Ryan 2 14 16 13 5 18

Average of Iowa polls from Selzer & Co., Change Research and David Binder Research. Totals may not add up exactly due to rounding.

“Strongly” includes respondents who answered “very strongly”

Source: Polls

Plus, as a candidate from next-door Massachusetts, Warren already has home-field advantage in New Hampshire. And if she does win Iowa, that will give her a boost heading into the Granite State.

If she wins Iowa and New Hampshire, she will definitely have a boost going into the next state, Nevada. Nevada is also a heavily unionized state, which seems like a good fit for her. Plus, former Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid is reportedly partial to Warren, and he might be willing to deploy his powerful turnout machine on her behalf. (Although Warren already has a pretty good campaign apparatus in Nevada on her own!)

So despite Biden’s lead in national polls, the actual state-by-state results might lead to a Warren nomination more often.

natesilver: Meh, I think the momentum shit is overrated.

The momentum shit from winning primaries, that is.

Like, it’s not nothing. It’s something! But, if you look at the Obama-Clinton contest in 2008, or Clinton-Sanders in 2016, the vast majority of who does better in which state is determined by demographics, not timing.

nrakich: Right, but I don’t think my argument relies on Warren winning, say, Iowa in order to keep her afloat in subsequent states. Warren has some natural advantages in New Hampshire and Nevada, too. Any momentum from winning previous states just makes her case for winning them even stronger.

natesilver: But then Biden wins South Carolina by six million points and who has the momentum on Super Tuesday?

ameliatd: On the demographics issue, one big question I have about Warren is how she will continue to broaden her support. She’s significantly more popular among white voters than black or Hispanic voters, and that could pose a serious problem for her.

nrakich: Combining Nate’s and Amelia’s points, certainly her weakness with black voters — who constitute almost a quarter of the Democratic primary electorate — is a problem for Warren.

natesilver: WhY aRe YoU gUyS eRaSiNg BeRnIe?

sarahf: Ha, I was just going to get to that.

Ostensibly, Warren and Sanders are roughly in the same place in the polls — Sanders has a poll average of 17.7 percent and Warren 16.0 percent, according to RCP. So are there actually two new front-runners?

ameliatd: How many front-runners is too many front-runners??

natesilver: Not in my view, no. I think Warren and Biden are No. 1 and 2 for likelihood of winning the nomination in some order, and I think Sanders is No. 3.

Why? First of all, Warren’s polls are a bit better than Sanders. She has roughly equal support nationally despite being less well known, and she has slightly better net favorables. She’s doing better in Iowa. And she has more upward momentum, although that can be overrated.

Second, if you put any weight on the sort of “party decides” view of the race, the party establishment seems to view her as being quite a bit more acceptable than Bernie, although she doesn’t have a ton of endorsements yet.

nrakich: Yeah, Sanders does not appear to be interested in expanding his coalition; he’s pretty much been stuck polling in the same 15-to-18 percent range since Biden entered the race, whereas Warren has been steadily winning people over. According to The Economist, only 38 percent of Democrats are considering voting for Sanders, whereas 49 percent are considering voting for Warren … which is even (slightly) more than the 48 percent who are considering voting for Biden!

ameliatd: Warren does seem to be doing quite a bit of work to position herself as a progressive candidate who’s also not a threat to the Democratic establishment — which is not Bernie’s typical M.O.

natesilver: That Economist poll has generally had good numbers for Warren, though. So I’d be a little careful there.

But polls do show that more informed voters are generally more into Warren than Sanders. So that’s another bad sign for Bernie (and Biden). As voters tune in, they seem to gravitate toward Warren more.

sarahf: I also thought the second quarter’s fundraising numbers were particularly telling when it came to support for Warren and Sanders. Warren tripled her numbers from the first quarter and raised the third-most from individual contributors, after Pete Buttiegieg and Biden (and before Sanders). And even though a greater percentage of Sanders’s donations currently come from small donors (or those giving $200 or less) than Warren, a Los Angeles Times analysis found that more than 80 percent of the donors who funded Sanders’s 2016 bid have not given to him this cycle, so this is, to me, evidence of a larger enthusiasm problem with Sanders.

And that’s important, because rightly or wrongly, Warren and Sanders are going to have to work to distinguish themselves from each other.

nrakich: I think they’re already distinguishing themselves, Sarah. Even though they’re not attacking each other, Warren has made clear efforts, as Amelia said, to show that she can play nice with the establishment. Sanders has continued to rail against economic and political institutions.

sarahf: And I guess at this point, Warren and Sanders’s bases are pretty different from each other, right?

natesilver: Well, part of the reason their bases are different now is because Warren has stolen most of the college-educated left from Bernie.

So what’s over in Sanders’s coalition is a bit eclectic — some real dyed-in-the-wool anti-establishment types, but also some non-college educated voters who aren’t necessarily that far to the left but like his populism or just like his message and personality.

nrakich: There is a big gender gap between Warren and Sanders, though. According to a Quinnipiac poll from early August, Sanders is second among men with 19 percent support, and Warren is third with 16 percent. But among women, Warren is second with 24 percent, and Sanders is third with 10 percent. (Biden is in first with both groups.)

sarahf: Are there more opportunities for Warren to continue to take voters away from Sanders? Or is she better off targeting voters from, say, Biden or Harris?

ameliatd: Isn’t Warren already siphoning some support from Harris? There seemed to be overlap between their supporters, at least earlier in the summer.

nrakich: Right. And my guess, Amelia, is that a lot of the voters who jumped on the Harris train after the first debate have since decamped to Warren.

And to Nate’s point, I suspect a lot of those 2016 Sanders voters without college degrees are now with Biden. So Sanders is kind of getting pinched from all sides.

natesilver: Yeah, I definitely think there’s evidence of a Harris-Warren overlap.

ameliatd: I also wonder how much some combination of sexism and electability concerns are holding Warren back, and how that will play out as the primary moves forward. There was some research earlier in the summer suggesting that both Warren and Harris were taking a hit among Democratic voters with more sexist views. And then there are the meta-sexism concerns from people who think a woman will have a harder time getting elected. As she continues to build support, maybe she’s chipping away at the latter? It’s obviously a hard thing to measure.

nrakich: Yeah, Amelia, maybe some voters have realized that Biden isn’t as electable as they thought, after seeing him struggle in the debates.

ameliatd: That would be my guess, Nathaniel. Although it’s interesting that Biden and Warren have yet to be on a debate stage together. If that happens next month (fingers crossed for one night!) maybe that shifts the dynamic between the two?

natesilver: It almost feels like there’s some weird shit like this going on, in terms of how voters are flowing between the candidates.

sarahf: Omg. What is that?

nrakich: Hahaha. I think that’s pretty good! My most recent piece on lanes in the Democratic primary indeed found that there is very little overlap between Sanders and Harris supporters, and not much between Warren and Biden supporters either.

ameliatd: But in terms of Warren being able to pull more supporters from Harris, a strong debate performance against Biden couldn’t hurt.

natesilver: IDK, if we’re forced to have two debates, the DNC could draw the rules up such that candidates who haven’t faced one another yet are more likely to be paired.

sarahf: I’m not so sure Warren can’t eat more into Biden’s support, though. Another thing that I thought was interesting in that Monmouth poll is that they found that among moderates who haven’t been paying as much attention, there is evidence they are swinging toward Sanders or Warren instead of toward a lesser-known candidate who might be more of an ideological fit.

And maybe this is just further proof that lanes don’t really exist, but it is interesting to me that among the more moderate candidates, there doesn’t seem to be an ordained alternative to Biden.

natesilver: Maybe it’s Buttigieg? But he’s still sort of a niche brand.

ameliatd: Is Harris’s name-recognition really that much lower than Warren or Sanders’s, though? It’s interesting, because moderates don’t seem to be flocking to her, and she’s someone who you think they’d be interested in.

natesilver: Yeah, I don’t know why there are so many WHY IS BIDEN STRUGGLING?!?!? takes when Harris is clearly the one who’s had a rough month or so in the polls.

nrakich: Amelia, 79 percent of Democrats can form an opinion of Harris, according to an average of August polls. That’s comparable to the 83 percent who can form an opinion of Warren. Biden and Sanders are noticeably higher — they have almost universal name recognition within the party.

sarahf: It’s true that Harris has had a much rougher month in the polls than Biden, but something else that stuck out to me in Nathaniel’s story was that Biden had the biggest drop of any candidate in his net favorability rating (favorable rating minus unfavorable rating) — he dropped 8 points from May to August, and 17 points from the beginning of the year. So I think, even if Harris might be down more at this particular point in time, some of the conventional wisdom might be that she has more of an opportunity to gain back what she’s lost in the polls than Biden?

ameliatd: I wonder if Harris’s flaw is that she’s not so easily categorized. People know who she is, but she’s kind of been staking out a middle ground between the moderates and the liberals. Warren, on the other hand, has a clear brand, which could be helping her right now. Maybe there’s room for Harris to recover, though?

nrakich: Frankly, I think primaries are periods of ebbs and flows. Right now, Harris and Sanders are down, while Biden and Warren are up (Biden more in the absolute sense, Warren more in the relative sense). But Harris and Sanders have shown the ability to appeal to these now-Warren-and-Biden-supporters before. So if they campaign smartly, they could certainly gain them back.

natesilver: Yeah, Amelia, that was basically the critique I had of Harris: She’s trying to split the difference and it … isn’t working, right now at least. But a campaign like Harris’s, which doesn’t have as clearly defined of a base, is inherently liable to be more volatile than someone with more of a base of their own.

ameliatd: But Warren has been steadily gaining support for months. And that seems hard to dismiss, especially with all of this movement. Unless she eventually hits some kind of ceiling, of course.

nrakich: I think it’s definitely a good sign for Warren that her increase has been slow and steady, instead of a Buttigiegian “bump.”

sarahf: OK, pulse check. No one at the beginning of this chat was willing to say Warren is the front-runner, and maybe that’s still true. But let’s wrap by talking about where you see her in the race currently, and what you’re going to be watching for going forward.

natesilver: I’m gonna be watching for whether she can gain more traction with non-college educated voters, and with black voters. And I’m gonna be watching if she gets more endorsements. We haven’t really taken the time in this chat to make the case against Warren, but those three things above would be a big part of it.

ameliatd: I will be really curious to see what happens when Warren ends up on a debate stage with Biden, and whether that helps defuse any more electability concerns.

nrakich: I see Warren as a clear No. 2. And there are a couple of good indicators for her that, if she eventually overtakes Biden, we will point to as early signs of that. But I think I will mostly look to see if coverage of Biden continues to be skeptical and if his favorability ratings continue to decline.

natesilver: Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I sort of disagree with Rakich. I think Warren’s chances are more about Warren than Biden.

Biden’s at, IDK, 29 percent right now. And maybe 23 or 24 percent in Iowa or something. It shouldn’t be that hard for Warren to surpass him even if he doesn’t decline at all.

nrakich: Nate makes a good point, and I could easily see the race boiling down to Warren vs. Biden by Super Tuesday. But for Warren to become a favorite over Biden, as opposed to a co-front-runner? I think Biden has to help out with that.

ameliatd: Warren is gaining on Biden — and seems to be surpassing Sanders — but it’s probably still important to watch how she performs relative to Harris, too.

Despite having some overlap in supporters, they also haven’t gone after each other — does that start to change, if Harris sees Warren as a threat?

sarahf: Yeah, we didn’t really talk about the case against Warren — but I think Nate’s landed on one of her biggest vulnerabilities: Can she win over more voters who aren’t white? Currently, as you’ve all mentioned, the crosstabs aren’t really there, but if she can build support, I think she emerges as a true front-runner. Otherwise, I think someone like Biden (or Harris) continues to have broader appeal.

nrakich: Right, Sarah. There’s also the possibility her favorability ratings decline, too. There is ample opposition research against her, like her claims of Native American ancestry and her past as a Republican, that hasn’t come up a lot in recent months but could still hurt her.

Now that I think about it, one of the benefits to Warren’s steady rise, as opposed to a sudden surge, is that she didn’t immediately get thrust into the “discovery, scrutiny, decline” cycle. Her rise has been so gradual, it might have snuck up on people. So I guess another thing I’ll be looking for is if the media, voters and her opponents start assessing her more critically.

natesilver: We should also maybe be a little bit skeptical of candidates whose support is concentrated among college-educated white people, which happens to be the demographic that the media both caters to and belongs to.

Bernie’s support is actually notably more diverse than Warren’s, and Biden’s certainly is.

ameliatd: But I do think Warren has room to grow, especially among women, if voters are actually starting to be less concerned about electability. Granted, right now, she’s doing much better among white women than women of color right now — but that could change.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #A FiveThirtyEight Chat

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