#she's a messy bench who loves drama as they say on the good place

[sylvienerevarine]

drew a Nelrene, one of my favorite Oblivion bitches... if you don't remember her, she's a Dark Seducer from the Shivering Isles who loves workplace conspiracies. in my headcanons she and my HoK become an item, inasmuch as two immortal demigod lesbians can be

[livinginncity]

if we were human

♚: lee rang x reader

❡: fluff??(angst, pure angst)

ⱳƈ: 2.5k

⚠︎: besides it being really bad? none really. like, literally a couple swears. it was fluff, and then it became angst, so...sorry, but not really because if i’m crying, so are you.

children could be heard all around the park. some screaming and laughing as they run behind, others crying after they tripped, only to soon be comforted by the gentle holds and hushed assurances of their mothers and fathers. a bit further away was a small dog park, from which came all kinds of barks and growl, as well as cooing of the passerby. and there at a bench, located slightly closer to the swings and slides attracting the younger humans, sat a man that looked less than pleased to be where he was.

“Guess who.” a female’s voice rang out as a soft hand covered his eyes. he merely rolled his eyes beneath their new coverings and proceeded to drag the small wrist away from his face. “y/n.”

the young woman sneered and scoffed before yanking her hand out of his grasp to walk around and join him on the bench. “I don’t like you.”

“I don’t like you either.” a smack to the back of the man’s head could be felt soon after the words left his mouth. “Yah!”

“What are you doing here anyway? I never took you for the people watching type.”

“That's because I'm not. As if they deserve that much attention.” a hand lazily lifted in the direction of a familiar little boy, the action bringing a smile to the woman’s face.

“Ahhhh. But that one’s the exception? I thought you didn’t like little kids with runny noses, something I heard you have in common with your brother actually. Is that a gumiho thing or a family thing?” the man she addressed turned his head to look at her with an unimpressed look.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much? Or that you ask too many questions?”

“Well considering that was one of the first things you said to me when we met, I’ll just assume you know the answer to that already.”

she turned to look where the man’s gaze had previously been fixed and he followed suit. their eyes moved as they followed the movements of the young boy whose energy seemed to rival that of a puppy’s. ‘how fitting’ was the thought that came to the pair. minutes passed before they changed positions—the girl moving to settle her head on her company’s shoulder. said company shook her off before she repeated the action, leaving her be the second time. and he stayed in place even after she dragged his head to rest upon her own.

“Rang-ah.” the man simply grunted in response, urging her to continue. “I hate this.”

his eyebrows furrowed slightly at the sudden proclamation. “The kids? The families? Parks? I don’t really like them either. The first are messy and demanding, the second is an extremely unrealistic dynamic, and the last are way too loud and crowded.”

“No.” she took in her surroundings before speaking again. “This. I love all of this. I want it all. The kids are adorable and it feels so rewarding to be someone they rely on and look up to. I’ve had my fair share of family drama, but I’ve always wanted my own that I could cherish—pointless fights and all. And parks are probably one of my favorite places because it gives me everything I need to imagine what it’d be like if I had the first two.”

“What?” at her words he lifted his head to look down at her.

“I hate all of this shit that’s going on right now. It was one thing when you were just this occasional menace to your brother, but now the Imugi is involved and Lee Yeon refuses to let Ji Ah go again. It’s caused so many problems and with them, questions to be asked. Things could be so much simpler. Don’t you ever think about what life would be like if we were all human? This would all just be some petty high school drama. Like, Lee Yeon got class president in school and now, years later, both he and Imugi are CEOs competing in the nightclub industry or something like that.”

“You’re starting to sound like Lee Yeon. I guess you’re just as lame as him. Or maybe even lamer because really? That’s the best you can do with this fake drama?”

“Did I ever tell you that I ran into Soo Ho before you got the Tiger’s Brow back from him?” she ignored the questions, but her own annoyed him slightly. before he could respond. “I asked him if I could try them on and walked to the nearest window I could see myself in.”

“So, what’d you see? What were you? A Snake? A rat? Pufferfish?” her only response to his teasing was a pinch to the side. she shook her head before continuing.

“I saw a child.” her face changed to a solemn one. “All I saw was a snot-nosed little kid that the world seemed to have it out for. I didn’t even live long enough to have many firsts. And no one was ever there for the few I did. Well, there was one. Towards the end, I think my final year, I met an old lady. She lived alone, but she took me in the moment we crossed paths. She gave me my own room, let me help her cook, as much as a child could help, and she would always tell me these stories of her husband who had passed about a decade before. In just a few months, that woman gave me what felt like a lifetime of love. All while I was slowly dying, she made me forget the hardships, the neglect, the hatred, and by some cruel fate, she died first. But before she went, she said to me “treat my death as not another result of this terrible world, but take it as a sign that even when we know that our end is inescapable, we are able to cherish the temporary moments in which we are truly happy should we allow ourselves that much.” And so,”

the woman finally lifted her head from the gumiho’s shoulder to look into his eyes. “I think, if I could be reincarnated as a human again, I would. But since it’s probably never gonna happen I want to live like one. Get married, have a family, get mad when someone doesn’t show up for the holidays. I don’t know if I’d make it as a human with everything I know now, and I honestly don’t want to be human right-right now because I probably wouldn’t get to be around you. And I also just can’t imagine how you’d get by without seeing me every day.”

“Don’t act like you’re anything special.” he scoffed and looked back at the playground.

“You don’t have to admit it.” she stood up from the bench, looked over to the young boy he had taken in, and turned back. the woman grabbed his face and, after looking at the man for a few seconds, leaned in. “I know you love me.” and then she ran. “Soo Ho-ah! Let me play with you, that old fox is being mean again!”

“Yah!” he didn’t get up to chase her. she was right no matter how much he thought about it. somehow that weird girl wormed her way into the list of people he more than tolerated. and as he sat alone with his thoughts, he watched her play with the reincarnated boy, the latter seemingly winning their current sword fight.

does he ever wanna be human? no, it seems way too boring. does he like kids? he likes one, so that’s good enough. will he get married at some point? well, it’s just some rings and paper. and it’s not like he isn’t in love with that girl in the park.

bonus;

“Hey, y/n. If you’re watching this then...you know. I figured a couple good deeds might do me well in the afterlife, so what better way than finally letting my brother be with the girl he’s waited hundreds of years for.”

“You crazy bastard.” those were the only words that she could force her mouth to speak as she looked down at the small screen.

“I know you’re probably cursing me right now, thinking ‘this crazy bastard.’” somehow they both managed to let out a chuckle. “You know I don’t like vulgar words, but I’m not there, so i told Soo-Ho to pinch you for me every time one leaves your mouth.”

“Of course you did. It’s already a habit of his now.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. Especially to you, Yu Ri, and Soo-Ho. I didn’t get to say thank you, either. You’ve all helped me more than I’d ever care to admit, but I really am grateful to have shared part of my life with you. I got to help Yu Ri like Lee Yeon helped me, got to meet Blacky again, and I got to experience so many things with you.”

the tears in her eyes were already brimming and it was clear they wouldn’t stay there long. “y/n.” she looked back to the screen as he called her name.

“go to the nightstand on the right of my bed and open the drawer.” the girl got up from her place at the edge of the bed and walked over to the wooden table. with her phone in her left, she used her right to open the drawer, and she could feel her heartbeat stutter as she laid her sights on the black velvet box that sat in it. she reached a shaky hand to pick it up, and when she flipped it open she couldn’t help dropping the phone as she brought the other to her mouth with a choked sob. all she could do was shake her head and let the tears subject themselves to gravity.

“Do you remember that day in the park?” despite not being able to actually see through the endlessly flowing tears, she managed to scramble around and find the device that had slipped from her grasp. “You were talking about all this stuff like marriage, family, kids—what it’d be like to be human because things would be so much simpler. And while I don’t think anyone could ever convince me that being human would be fun, I figured we could at least do some of those human things. We were kind of halfway there, you know? You practically live in my apartment, and Soo-Ho took over the living room with his toys, so it was only a matter of time for him to get his own room so I could stop stepping on legos—maybe get a door with a lock from the outside so I don’t have to worry about waking up covered in stickers.”

she laughed as she recalled the memory, his interactions with the little boy, and their goofy smiles when things were calm for once. “You dorks were made to follow each other into every life.”

“I was gonna propose to you after this whole thing was over. Once I knew Lee Yeon was safe and not being targeted by a wannabe dragon. I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you or...our own kid, though I think the one we have now is pretty great. And I’m also really sorry that I’m finally telling you this once it’s too late, but you were right. About what you said that day.” her breath hitched as she saw the tears glisten while they slid down his face. “I love you.

as if it were clockwork, a sob made its way from her throat and the tears began again.

“Yah, stop crying already. Please. I’d be upset if I was the cause of it.” and she tried, she really did, but it wasn’t as easy as he made it sound. “And, I know this is probably asking a lot for all that I’ve put you through, but can you wear it? At least for a little bit. Just think of it as a way of honoring my memory—the better parts obviously. You can keep my apartment if you want, too. Soo-Ho might be a job better-fit for Sin-Ju and Yu Ri, but if he says he wants to stay with you, you better let him.”

another laugh emitted from between the sobs as she listened to his final message.

“I really do love you, y/n. And if there is ever a chance of us finding each other again, I’ll tell you every chance I get. Anyway, I think it’s time for me to go now. I only have a couple more minutes and I don’t think the others are gonna make it in time. I’m scared if I’m being honest, y/n. I’m afraid of being alone, but you helped me not feel like that all the way up to the end—I finally had a family. So thank you. Love you.” and he smiled his big, child-like smile before adding on, “And don’t tell Lee Yeon I said sorry, or thank you, or I love you that much in under ten minutes.”

and just like that, it was over. no more, dumb family feuds, no more naengmyeon with no eggs because someone would always steal it, no more Lee Rang. she stared at the paused screen for what felt like hours before setting it to the side on the bed, to do as he had asked. carefully,  she took the ring out from the safety of its cushions and slid it onto her left hand. she let out a shaky breath as she stared at her ring finger and she said it back, hoping that somehow, someway, he would hear it. “I love you too, Lee Rang-ah.”

it was a while before she moved from that spot—getting on her feet only to answer the door that had just rung. opening it, she could have seen the man who had taken the place of Lee Rang’s in the living world, but all she saw at that moment was an older brother who had also lost someone he loved.

“Lee Yeon-ah.” it was then that the male finally took in her appearance. she wore jeans, one of his brother’s sweaters, and her hair was in a bun that had clearly seen better days. but what really caught his attention as his eyes traveled, was the black box in her right hand, and shining silver band on her left. then he lifted his eyes back to hers to see just how tired she was. “Lee Yeon-ah. I miss him.”

the man simply brought her into his chest as she sobbed. and she cried, and she cried, and all the while he stood there with her in his embrace. it was all he could do, he couldn’t offer her words of comfort just yet because, even now she may be much stronger than he is. because she’s strong enough to live without the promise of his reincarnation. she knows she may never see him again, but won’t risk exchanging her life just so he won’t go through the same thing.

“I miss him so much.” her voice cracked as the words came out, and he ran his hand over her hair.

“I know, I know. I miss him, too.”

[darter-blue]

So, it is the fair @hannah-stagram 's birthday!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNAH!!!!!

And seeing as you are the most absolutely gorgeous person, and my partner in crime, here is a little gift from me to you... a hot neighbour, coffee, shrunkyclunks au. To give your day a meet cute kinda start 😘😘😘😘

Love you Hannah banana. Hope you have the best day darling ❤❤❤

Bucky Barnes has been living in this cul-de-sac for three years. And he has never, never, seen this man before. 

This man, who is currently collecting mail from the box next to Bucky’s front gate. This man who is too hot to be real. And is currently waving at Bucky. 

Bucky would wave back but he’s frozen. In his oversize t-shirt and his tartan pyjama pants and a pair of ugg boots that were forged at the dawn of time, his hair in a messy bun on his head - not artfully messy, but messy like an ‘i just got up and have no fucks to give��� rats nest on his head. And his hand is on the handle on the outside of his self locking front door. And it will. Not. open.

Oh shit.

He looks down at the handle, he looks at Alpine who has just run off and left him in her little cat paw dust, and he looks back at the very tall, very built, very hot man who has stopped waving and is just holding his hand up and staring at Bucky.

Bucky is going to die of embarrassment. 

Does he wave, and smile and then casually step down the porch and around to the side of the house and try to break in through the bathroom window?

Does he pretend he hasn’t seen the man and then walk down to Wanda’s as if that was his plan all along (and hope she won't kill him for waking her up after her late shift)?

Does he close his eyes and hope very hard that the earth will open up and swallow him into its fiery depths right here and now?

Oh, he’s going to do none of the above. Because hot neighbour man is now walking towards Bucky with his eyes wide, eyebrows raised in concern…

‘Hi,’ he says, slowly, carefully, as if Bucky is perhaps a skittish wild animal, ‘Are you… are you okay?’

‘Oh I’m great,’ Bucky says, turning fully around to put the door at his back, ‘Yeah, absolutely peachy.’

‘That’s good, that’s good. It’s only that, well… you’ve been standing there staring at your door for an awfully long time, and I’m wondering if you maybe needed some help?’

‘Ummm… no, no. I’m ah. I have this all under control.’ His voice is husky and scratchy from sleep and his fresh made coffee is inside on his kitchen bench. 

Getting cold.

Urgh why is this his life.

‘Sure, I’m sure you do,’ hot neighbour says, nodding his head, but his pretty pink lips are turning up into a smile, ‘But ah… it’s actually, if you like, being that I’m new to the neighbourhood and ah, you know, trying to meet people and be neighbourly, maybe you would let me help you get that unlocked?’

Bucky looks at the man, with his ridiculous shoulders and his full red-brown beard, and his swept back dirty-blond hair and the strange dark one piece uniform he seems to be wearing… like he’s going into space… 

And he wonders what exactly he’s getting himself into.

‘Okay, yeah, I ah… may have locked myself out, but I’m just weighing up my options.’

‘And what are they, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘Breaking back in through the bathroom? Waking up my friend three houses down and borrowing her phone to call a locksmith? Hoping the ground swallows me whole and I don't have to worry about it.’

‘How do you feel about adding, “asking your new neighbour to pick the lock for you,” to that list?’

‘You can do that?’

‘Sure,’ Hot neighbour says, shrugging a giant shoulder like it's no big thing.

‘Uhh… I guess I could consider it.’

‘Great!’ Hot neighbour smiles like he’s just won the lottery. And then he pulls some kind of long thin picking device from one of his many pockets and kneels down in front of Bucky’s door.

Bucky nearly bites through the inside of his cheek.

It takes hardly a second before the door pops open and Bucky is distracted anew by the ease with which his hot neighbour has just broken into his house.

‘Huh, look at that,’ Bucky says, staring at the door as it opens wide. 

Hot neighbour is bouncing back up on his feet like a happy puppy, his smile still wide. Eyes fixed to Bucky.

‘All done!’ He sweeps his hand out to indicate what Bucky can already clearly see for himself. 

And Bucky is probably looking a little like a deer in headlights right now. ‘Yeah, that was… wow.’

Of course Alpine chooses that moment to come streaking past them, a white fluffy blur, escaping back into the house and meowing with glee at having caused this drama in the first place.

‘Absolute menace,’ Bucky says, watching her go. And when he looks up, hot neighbour is still staring at him. His hands in his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Oh, he had said he was trying to make friends… be neighbourly. Maybe Bucky is supposed to ask him inside for coffee. 

‘Did you, ah… would you like to come in for coffee?’ He gestures inside with his head, putting his own hands into the pockets of his pyjama pants. Oh god. He must look like a bum. 

‘I love coffee!’ the man says, and then he frowns, ‘I mean, actually I used to love coffee. I haven’t had it for a while.’

‘Oh, well. I guess you can come in and see what you think of mine?’

‘I think yours will be excellent.’

And Bucky has to laugh at the sincerity with which this total stranger has complimented coffee he hasn’t even tasted yet.

‘Well, actually coffee’s one of the only things I ever manage to get right, so you're probably not wrong about that.’

‘I’m not usually wrong about anything.’

And Bucky laughs again, because it doesn’t seem to be a line, it’s like the guy is just stating a fact.

‘Well, I’m usually wrong about everything. So I guess we’ll balance each other out.’

‘I’d like that.’ And oh. The guy’s voice has gone low and rich like butter as he says that. And yeah okay maybe that is a line.

And they’re standing on Bucky’s porch in front of the open door just staring at each other. 

'I'm Bucky, by the way,' he says, pulling his hand free from his pocket to offer the man.

'Steve, I'm Steve,' hot neighbour, Steve, says in reply, grabbing Bucky's hand eagerly and shaking it very firmly. 'It's nice to finally meet you.'

'Finally? Didn't you just move in?' Bucky asks, wondering why he's never seen this guy before today. 

And Steve, hot neighbour Steve, starts to flush a pretty attractive shade of pink.

'Oh, I may have been weighing up whether to buy here for a little while…'

'Scoping us out?'

'Something like that.’

‘And we measured up did we? Happy with what you found?’

Steve looks Bucky up and down - Bucky in his sloppiest outfit, barely dragged out of bed - and smiles. But this time his smile is full of delicious heat. ‘Oh definitely,’ he says. 

And Bucky is blinking up at Steve with an open mouth and a broken brain.

‘So… Coffee?’ Steve says, clearing his throat.

Bucky shakes himself, ‘Yes, yes, coffee. Right,’ and ushers Steve into the house.

Has to be forgiven for the way his eyes slide down to the roundest, tightest ass he’s ever seen. 

And then again for almost swallowing his tongue when Steve turns around and catches him staring.

And winks.

Oh god. Bucky is going to be ruined.

And he honestly can’t think of a better way to go.

[ewwhothefuckiski]

You Said Forever- Joshua Bassett

Joshua Bassett × fem!reader

Requested: no, I was trying to sleep and suddenly had this idea so here we are.

TW: Swearing, angst, emotional trauma, mentions of death

Taglist: @tclklater @spicygemini17 @bonobos-candy-bar @kaylinfayezink @jxznotfound {lmk if ya want to be added!!}

A/N: I apologise in advance 🤧 you can thank @hermes-creature and @nickalicious for fueling this fire. And yes this was heavily inspired on his new ep and Olivia's Driver's License. No not for the drama

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Love is hard. It can be wonderful, breathtaking. But it can also be painful, soul crushing even. When you fall in love, you give someone your all, you hand over your heart and pray that they don't break it.

But they will- It's inevitable.

Or at least, that's what Y/N told herself as she sat alone in what used to be her and Joshua's bedroom, holding their promise rings and letting out heart wrenching sobs.

She looked around, every picture of her and Josh like a new slap in the face. She looked back down at the rings, screaming as she threw them at the mirror resting on their dresser, shattering the glass.

Her hands tangled into the roots of her hair, tugging as she hugged her knees into her chest, rocking back and forth letting the sobs rock her body.

-

She didn't think Josh would leave her, he had been by her side since they were 16. But he did. They screamed at each other until they were red in the face; him eventually giving up and packing his bag.

Y/N screamed at him more, this time with tears streaming down her face.

"Why are you doing this?" She cried, grabbing his arm and turning him to face her. "You are the one who's in the wrong here, and you just decide to leave?"

Joshua felt his heart break as he stared at the girl. She was broken, hurting- and it was his fault.

But then he thought back to her words from earlier, anger flaring in his chest again.

"I'm in the wrong here? Y/N, you blamed me for cheating on you because of your insecurities. You scream at me after I come home from filming, because you're jealous. I told you nothing was going on with Olivia. But you can't get it through your damn head. You made me choose between you and my job. So I did, and I choose my job. Don't try and put this on me."

"I thought you loved me." She sobbed, wrapping her arms around herself; an attempt to keep herself from falling apart.

Joshua sighed as he zipped his bag shut, turning to face her.

"God Y/N. I do love you, I love you so much- and I always will. But we can't do this anymore. We aren't good for each other."

"You promised me forever." She whispered, staring down at the ring sitting on his finger. He followed her gaze, his heart breaking as he realized what she had been looking at. He slipped the ring off of his finger, gently placing it in her hand, before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. He grabbed his bag and walked to the door, turning to look at the girl who stole his heart all those years ago one last time.

"Goodbye Y/N." He whispered, turning on his heel and shutting the door behind him before she could see the tears running down his face. He stood there for a minute, hearing her sobs through the door, before flinching as he heard glass shattering as she screamed. He sighed and continued his journey to his car, before he finally pulled out of the driveway and left the love of his life behind him.

×××

Joshua shouldn't have had the time to feel the deep ache in his chest with each waking minute that passed without Y/N by his side- HSMTMTS had hit it off and soon his career was launched into full swing. His fans demanding an EP, him booking auditions, all while doing interviews back to back about the "love triangle" between him, Olivia, and Sabrina- but he did.

The fans had all assumed that Josh's sudden change in behavior was because he and Olivia called things off, but in reality, he just hadn't been himself since he left Y/N.

Everyone but him had saw it. So Olivia and Sabrina had been spending a lot of time with him, trying to cheer him up. But the fans read to much into it.

Josh knew Y/N was seeing the articles, he knew she definitely didn't believe him now. All he wanted was to take back the day he walked out on her. But he couldn't, it was too late. She was better off without him now.

At least, that's what he told himself.

Little did he know, Y/N had fallen into the darkest state of depression after he left. She didn't leave her bed unless she had to. She cried, a lot. She didn't have the motivation to get up in the morning, to do the basic things such as take a shower, brush her teeth.

What was the point?

Her friends tried calling her, coming over to help her get out and do something, but she had lost any part of her soul she had left.

When Joshua left her, he took her heart with him. She gave him everything, just to feel like nothing in the end. She loved him with every fiber in her body, and that was the hardest thing for her.

Before she met Joshua, she had been left time and time again. First by her parents, and then eventually anyone she's ever came to care about. She shut everyone out after that, afraid to get attached again.

And then there he was. The brown eyed messy haired boy in the back of the coffee shop.

He looked terrified. His hands were shaking, his face pale, breaths coming up short. She knew that look all too well.

"Hey! Hey look at me."

He snapped his head up to look at the young girl, his brown eyes wide as she talked to him.

"Breathe with me ok? In through the nose for five seconds, out for ten."

She demonstrated what she meant, smiling when the boy started to copy her actions.

"Good, just like that. Again."

She took his shaking hands into hers, interlacing their fingers as they breathed together.

She didn't try and tell him he was gonna be ok, or to breathe because he's fine. She knew when you were having a panic attack, your body looses control of itself. She knew the best thing you could do is to just focus on your breathing until you gained control again.

After a while, Josh finally gained control of himself again. He looked down at their interlocked hands, blushing, but not pulling away.

"How did you-"

"You were having a panic attack. I have them all the time."

Joshua nodded, glancing from their hands back to the beautiful girl in front of him.

"I felt like I was going to die." He whispered, looking down in embarresment.

"I know."

He looked up at her, shocked.

"W-What?"

"Your whole body tingles, you can't slow your breathing, your heart beating so loud you swear your ears are gonna explode." She listed, smiling at him sadly, her heart aching for the boy. "It's like you can't control your own body."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, Yeah that's exactly what it felt like."

Y/N smiled softly, her thumb rubbing the back of his hand.

"How about some coffee, on me?"

Josh grinned at the girl in front of him. "That'd be great!"

After that, they had been inseparable.

Until now.

Now they were in separate places, trying to forget every painful memory they made together in the last 4 years.

Eventually, Y/N's friends got her out of bed, convinced her to come to the park with them. She reluctantly agreed, but only on the condition that she could drive herself- that way if needed she could leave whenever she wanted.

So she got up, took a shower, brushed her teeth, and put on the best clothes she could manage without breaking down because it brought her a memory of Josh- which was harder than you would think.

She made a mental note to go clothes shopping later.

She sighed as she sat in her car, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before starting the engine and pulling out of her driveway.

When she pulled into the park, it was deserted, and she sighed in relief. Her best friends sent a text saying they were on their way, so Y/N exited her car and sat on the park bench, waiting for them to show up.

-

Josh was exhilarated. He had just finished his first concert, and the feeling of the fans cheering as he sang was still alive and electric in his bones. His adrenaline was running so high he couldn't sit still.

So he decided to take a walk.

He wanted to go to the park, it was his comfort these last couple of months. It was a place where he could breathe, where he could be alone with his thoughts.

He usually thought about Y/N.

But today was different, he finally felt alive again. He was walking around the park, humming his songs to himself as he took in the stillness of this afternoon. If it hadn't been for the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he would have found it eerie.

But he didn't. So he kept walking and singing, relishing in the feeling of the wind running through his hair.

Until he heard an all too familiar voice.

She was singing- singing in a way that sounded sad, like every word she uttered was forced- but it was beautiful. He knew that voice the second he heard it, but he just couldn't believe it.

He rushed to hide behind a tree, peaking his head out to glimpse at the singing girl. He couldn't believe his eyes, there Y/N was, right in front of him, looking just as beautiful as the day he left her.

But she was different, he could see it in the way she slouched as she sat on the bench, slowly swinging her legs back and forth while singing to herself softly. She was hurting, and he knew it was because of him.

"Y/N-"

He meant to say it in his head, but her name had slipped past his lips, and her head whipped around, her eyes catching his. She gasped in shock, tears welling in her eyes as she looked at the boy who stole her heart away standing in front of her after spending so much time apart.

She stood up quickly, wiping her eyes and running in the opposite direction towards her car, she needed to get out of there before she broke even more. She knew it was a mistake coming here, she should've listened to herself.

"Y/N wait-" he called out, reaching out to stop her. But it was too late, she was already long gone and pulling out of her parking spot, tears clouding her vision. Joshua ran out from behind the tree, running up to her car, before he stopped dead in his tracks, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

Y/N had been speeding out of the parking lot and onto the street, not bothering to look before she slammed on the gas and pulling onto the street, before she saw a speeding car coming at her from the side, ramming into her before everything went black.

She finally found peace.

And Josh had just lost it.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: You guys have no idea how attatched I am to this fanfic idk what I’ll do once it’s over omg -Danny

Words: 2,506

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Somebody Else’ by The 1975

Chapter Sixteen: The Agreement.

Mel felt the cloak fall off her and Harry tried to move, but Hermione held to his wrist.

"Not yet! She might not be gone yet."

"She's goin' back ter the castle," Hagrid replied, peering through the window. "Blimey... inspectin' people, is she?"

"Yeah, Trelawney's on probation already..."

"'Mountain's scenery'," Mel scoffed. "That old cow, I wish I could put her in her place..."

"Me too," Harry sulked.

"Um... what sort of thing are you planning to do with us in class, Hagrid?" Hermione inquired anxiously.

"Oh, don' you worry abou' that, I've got a great load o' lessons planned! I've bin keepin' a couple o' creatures saved fer yer O.W.L. year, you wait, they're somethin' really special."

"Erm... special in what way?"

"I'm not sayin'. I don' want ter spoil the surprise."

"Look, Hagrid," Hermione said tensely, "Professor Umbridge won't be at all happy if you bring anything to class that's too dangerous —"

"Dangerous? Don' be silly, I wouldn' give yeh anythin' dangerous! I mean, all righ', they can look after themselves —"

"Hagrid, you've got to pass Umbridge's inspection, and to do that it would really be better if she saw you teaching us how to look after porlocks, how to tell the difference between knarls and hedgehogs, stuff like that!"

"But tha's not very interestin', Hermione. The stuff I've got's much more impressive, I've bin bringin' 'em on fer years, I reckon I've got the on'y domestic herd in Britain —"

"What now?" Mel asked in fear.

"Hagrid... please... Umbridge is looking for any excuse to get rid of teachers she thinks are too close to Dumbledore. Please, Hagrid, teach us something dull that's bound to come up in our O.W.L..."

"Lis'en, it's bin a long day an' it's late," He said tiredly patting Hermione on the shoulder. "Oh — sorry —" He stopped when he noticed he was forcing her to almost kneel. "Look, don' you go worryin' abou' me, I promise yeh I've got really good stuff planned fer yer lessons now I'm back... Now you lot had better get back up to the castle, an' don' forget ter wipe yer footprints out behind yeh!"

As they made their way back, Ron spoke.

"I dunno if you got through to him, 'Mione..."

"Then I'll go back again tomorrow," said Hermione determinedly, then looked at Mel. "You with me. We'll plan his lessons for him if we have to. I don't care if she throws out Trelawney but she's not taking Hagrid!"

"I agree with you," Mel sighed. "I guess I could help you by keeping Umbridge busy with other stuff."

"Like what?" Ron raised a brow.

"Maybe it's time I take your brothers' offer..." She said quietly.

Fred caught up with her before breakfast that Sunday.

"Hi," She said awkwardly. It was her first time talking to him after the Quidditch match. "What's up?"

"I just..." Fred started, "we never set a time for our... you know?"

"Oh," She grimaced, looking around the Great Hall. "Right."

"Is it okay if we have it today?"

"Right now?"

"After breakfast?" He shrugged.

"Okay?"

Fred wasn't doing anything that could be taken as inappropriate but he was, however, sitting far from his twin and Lee Jordan, which was extremely rare. No one had tried to sit on the empty place next to her, which let her know people was definitely avoiding them.

"Fred?"

"Hmm?" He replied chewing.

"Does everyone know what we did?"

Fred snorted, swallowing his food and smirking.

"Was it supposed to be secret? Sorry lady, but if you kiss someone in the middle of the Quidditch field, people will see you."

"Not always though," She mumbled.

"What?"

"I don't understand why are they being so weird!" Mel frowned. "It was just a stupid kiss! We didn't turn into aliens or anything..."

"What's an alien?"

"Nevermind that," She pushed her plate away. "I've lost my appetite..."

"That's unlike you," Fred raised a brow. "You're sure you're okay hanging out after this? If you're not feeling well–"

"It's not that," She said. "I just... I don't like it when they stare at me like that."

"If it makes you feel better, they're all staring at me. They hate me."

"Pfft–" Mel snorted. "How could anyone hate you?"

"It's true!" He said. "They hate me because you kissed me, you didn't choose them."

"What a terrible loss that must be!" Mel said dramatically. "All those broken hearts!"

"Half the school hates you too," Fred added teasingly.

"I know that," Mel smirked. "But what's the reason now?"

"Because you snatched me away from them!" It was Fred's turn to be dramatic. "I had thousands of options but you've stolen my first kiss! Now I belong to you, I can't do anything about it."

"That wasn't your first kiss!" Mel exclaimed.

"It was, I swear!" Then he added cheekily. "It was my first as much as it was yours."

Mel's eyes widened in horror. "Who told you?!"

"Blimey, no one!" Fred's mouth fell open. "I was joking!"

That made her face turn redder.

"Fred!"

"Please, tell me you didn't kiss Flint–"

"I'd never kiss—!" Mel stopped, people were starting to stare more intently now. She continued in an angry whisper. "I didn't kiss Flint!"

"Ron?" Fred scrunched up his nose.

"Knock it off," She groaned.

"Harry?"

"..."

Fred frowned. "I have more questions..."

Mel stood up.

"Time's ticking, Weasley. You better use it wisely."

"You'll clear my doubts?"

"If they're all about Harry, then no," She glanced at him, trying to ignore the whispers as they walked past their classmates. "It would be weird to talk about him with..."

"With whom?" Fred smirked. "One kiss and you're planning our wedding? A bit forward if you ask me—"

"Oh, shut it," Mel rolled her eyes. "Don't you think it's weird?"

"I'm just trying to get to know you," He shrugged. "The romantic side of you– You know, if I'm going to take any part in it..."

"We'll see," She raised a brow. "You're allowed to step out of this if you want and so am I."

"Fine."

Fred continued to walk next to her with ease. He had a soft smile on his face, enjoying himself. Of course he would, he'd always liked the spotlight. Mel was having a more difficult time, this didn't feel like the attention she would get from her friends, this felt like cold analysis, they were measuring her and Fred, trying to form an opinion.

She felt a bitter nostalgia about the way things had unfolded with her and Harry a few months back, this was exactly what they'd managed to avoid, but she had messed up this time.

"So..." She started. "Tell me about your first kiss..."

Once he replied, Fred asked her about hers and she made him promised he wouldn't say a word to anyone, not even George. When Mel finished her story, Fred wasn't that surprised.

"Well, no one caught you kissing or anything," He tilted his head, "We could see there was something going on, but none of us felt the need to confirm it."

"As it should be. Some people are so nosy! Take Skeeter, she gets paid for making up rumours! This wouldn't happen if we could just mind our own business..."

"Life would be boring without a little bit of drama," He nudged her arm playfully.

They sat on a bench, right under one of the trees near the lake. It was cold but not freezing, and they were wearing their robes, so they would be fine for a while before the wind could become a problem.

"My turn again!" Fred said enthusiastically. "Why did you kiss me?"

For some reason, the question caught her off guard. She knew why she'd kissed him, but she didn't want to upset him. Ginny reacted badly when she'd thought Mel was using her brother, how was he going to react?

"I... uh..." Mel fumbled with the end of her scarf, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. "You know I'm fickle..."

"Not as much as before! The only times you lose your temper now is when you talk to Harry. Which is weird, because—"

"I know, I know," She huffed exasperatedly. "Because I was always soft around him! Ugh! I know I had him as this knight in shining armour–"

"Knight?" Fred asked with a smirk.

"I won't fall for it again, all right?" Mel crossed her arms, feeling cornered. "I won't let him get to me this time."

Fred's smile faltered.

"Listen, I know you're not one to play with people's feelings," He scratched the back of his head. "That being said, right now it feels like you only kissed me to prove a point..."

"I do like you," She said, gazing at her shoes. "Not that way though... but I think you're funny and nice— Don't let it get over your head, but your flirting was really good too, even if you were joking..."

"I was joking at first, just to get a reaction from Ron's," Fred gave her a small smile. "But then you kissed me... I mean, I'm confused, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to try..."

"It could," Mel sighed. "Whatever happened between Harry and me... Fred, I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Me neither," He admitted.

"This is a bad idea..." She reflected. "I don't think I'd make a good girlfriend right now."

Fred stayed quiet for a moment.

"How about we keep it casual?"

"What?"

"We don't have to call ourselves anything if we don't want to."

"What do you mean?" Mel frowned.

"Kind of like... well, you know Eddie Carmichael?"

"Yeah?"

"He has this thing with Lisa Turpin," He moved on his place to face her. "They don't date but... well, they do plenty of things without being exclusive."

"Fred," Mel bit her lip to avoid laughing. "You're asking for a 'friends-with-benefits' thing?"

"No!" He said, then added. "Yes? Well, you don't want to date me!"

"I said I'm not sure!"

"You're in love with Harry," He stated. "Don't deny it. I get it, you were snogging seven months ago—"

"We weren't snogging—"

"You're not someone that takes this lightly. I'm giving you a choice, Mel, if we insist on making things formal when you clearly don't want to be with me like that, things will get messy, but I still want to make you feel better. Going out and having lots of fun is a good way to heal."

"So you're taking one for the team and decided to be the one who shows me what I've been missing?" Mel joked.

"We must make sacrifices once in a while," He sighed. "It hurts me, giving up my virtue, but you're my friend and your wish is my command."

Mel snorted, nudging his side playfully.

"I'm pretty sure I'd heal even if you don't snog the grief out of my body..."

"You're talking nonsense already!" He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Mel. I'll take care of you..."

He cupped her cheeks and kissed all over her face -but stayed far from her mouth- which caused her to laugh in a way she hadn't laughed in months.

"Okay! Okay, I get it!" Mel pushed him away. "We must set ground rules, though."

"How about... since you're still a lovesick mess for Potter, I'll try to keep him off your mind as often as I can, that way you can focus on other things."

"Like you?" She teased.

"Maybe," He smirked. "But also like the D.A.— You're a great teacher, lady. Your students can't have you moping over a boy."

"Okay, but you won't try to kiss me unless I say it's okay."

"Sounds a bit tough," Fred pouted. "You're a good kisser—"

"Also," She continued, speaking a bit louder. "If anyone asks, just say we're dating— even if it's not entirely true, it'll keep a few people away from me and that's wonderful, I don't want their company..."

"You mean Goldstein, don't you?"

"Merlin, the boy is so annoying," Mel murmured.

"You have to help my brother and me with our pranks and products," Before she could argue, he added, "my girlfriend would want to help me succeed! Others might find it strange if you don't spend time with me, they'll think you don't care!"

"They'd be right."

"That's no way to treat your future husband, Lady Dumbledore."

"Finally," She said, standing up and offering her hand to him. "No one can know about this agreement. If we start to date for real at some point... it's our business and our business only. Understood?"

"Yup!" He stood up, holding her hand with a pleased expression. "One last thing?"

"Yes?"

"You can put an end to this anytime," He said. "This is meant to be fun, so if you change your mind or it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me. I promise our friendship will remain intact."

"You can't promise that," Mel said quietly. "You can't know."

"Look at me— I swear it won't change."

She stared at him carefully.

"...We're just fooling around, right? It's nothing serious?"

"Just fooling around," He conceded. "And we can stop anytime you want, just say the word. I only do this for the same reason I asked you last year to the Yule ball. I think we could have a lot of fun."

"This is not the type of fun you were thinking of the first time, right?" She asked doubtfully. Fred laughed.

"Not at all!" He admitted. "But I don't mind this either..."

"Yeah," Mel looked down at their intertwined hands. "I don't mind it much either..."

Mel had to endure the whispering and glances towards her for the rest of the weekend and the entirety of Monday. Fred was having perhaps too much fun with it, and if he was present during the whispering, he would loudly flirt or mess with her.

She was torn between enjoying his attention and mortified at the fact that they were lying to their friends. Sure, they had an agreement, but ever since their talk, Mel had been very careful not to be seen alone with Fred, and she became really quiet about her private life even though all their friends were bombarding her with questions about her 'relationship'.

One thing that she wasn't expecting was Harry's reaction to the whole thing. Sure, she wasn't doing this to watch him throw a tantrum and yell at Fred about betrayal and all, and she couldn't be sure about him not being hurt, but overall, he was handling it with utter indifference.

He would talk to her and share notes while studying or preparing the classes for the D.A. but gone were the hours spent talking about nothing and everything from years prior. Harry was just another classmate.

The others thought that the sight of Mel without Harry was strange, but the pair were warming up to the idea. Truth be told, neither Harry nor her knew what it was to live in the other's shoes anymore.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs

[yandere-society]

Candy Man

Synopsis: Stepping into the world-famous Hope World Candy Factory the day of Valentine’s Day, you are filled with an overwhelming number of sweets and surprises. As a confectionary lover, this is your dream, to not only see the inside of the glittering multi-colored building, but maybe get a glimpse of the interesting man behind all the delicious desserts. There’s also something here, lingering behind every jelly bean wall or chocolate cove. After getting separated from a tour group, you think maybe this was a mistake to come in here so carefree. There may be something sinister behind these seemingly harmless candies.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 4,300+

Admin: @mintedmango​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: Yandere-themes, mentions of death/murder, mentions of gore, blood, passing out/fainting, knives, improvised weapons, being tied down/restrained, hospital beds, unhealthy thinking relationships, cannibalism.

The skin of your lips was being peeled off by your teeth as you nervously flit from foot to foot on your elevator ride up the see-through jelly tube. You could see almost every chocolate cove and red vine tree from the pink tubing your tour group was being brought down to. Your heart was pumping rapidly with a mix of excited and full of tension, and your empty stomach was rumbling as butterflies fluttered, trapped inside. You weren’t sure anymore if not eating this morning to make room for all the sweets that one could possibly enjoy was a good idea. 

You were so anxious you could hardly stand it. Ever since you learned that the infamous Hope World Candy Factory was opening up one day to the public for the first time, you decided you just had to fly across the country and see it for yourself. You’ve loved the company and all the creations that they make ever since you had your first Daydream Bar at the tender age of five. 

All you had to do was buy a ticket for the factory (that costs a pretty, pretty penny, mind you) and you were set for the whole day!

The only catch though was that it was only open on Valentine’s Day and it was strictly for couples to come and enjoy a romantic, sweet-filled day in the candy factory...

And of course, you were as single as single could be. 

That’s just how life goes, right? 

The elevator lurches to a halt suddenly and you almost stop breathing, your excitement overwhelming you. 

“Everyone, step lightly, we have much to see!” Says a stout woman with green hair and carrot-colored skin as she ushers everyone out of the tube and into a dim room with a tiny, tiny door at the end of the hallway. “Now,” she whispers, as she grabs what looks to be different colored (and probably flavored you assume) gelatin keys and sticks a goldenrod one through the small keyhole. “Beyond this door is where you get to roam the marvelous Grand Garden.” 

You gulp, mind full of wonder and awe as you watch her turn the key, and it glitters and sparkles with the bright light beyond the door, much like your eyes right now. 

From the moment of purchasing your own golden ticket, you have been scouring the internet in hopes you would find more info about the Hope World Factory and the mysterious secrets it keeps locked up tight behind its doors. There wasn’t much on the Jung family or the current CEO of the factory. Just rumors of an immense and large edible garden, with so much grandeur and thought put into it, it was something straight out of a fairy tale book. 

“Everything is edible.” She states with a smile before pushing open the door. “But please be advised to stay within the walls of the garden with your partner, or you could end up in some serious… hot chocolate.” 

A few people in your group snicker at her sweet-treated pun, but you can’t focus on anything except seeing what is beyond that bland-colored door, wanting to know if the rumors of splendor are true. Your palms are sweaty and your mind blank with anticipation. 

“Please come back to this door, under the raspberry truffle tree in one hour!” She smiles as she finally pushes the door open for you all to run inside, and see what the Jung family has been hiding for decades. “It’s something out of your purest imagination!”

Speaking of Jung family, you wonder if the rumors are true: the family's youngest son is in charge of the factory now, after his sister got engaged to a rival candy company’s heir. So many whispers and hush-hush with this family, you swear! Deep down you really wanted gossip and drama from them, as selfish as that sounds. You wish they were a little bit messy and spill their internal secrets to the world. So you only really knew what the internet and late-night television hosts would spread amongst the airways, which were usually ridiculous words of slander and vile garbage. 

But what you do know about the famous sweet CEO was that he has an amazing taste in everything from cars, to clothes, especially to candy and you’ve heard that he has an amazing, dazzling smile. Supposedly, and according to the rumors circulating everywhere. 

“Where’s your date, young lady?” The woman with white eyebrows asks up to you with a serious smile on her orange lips, breaking your inner thoughts. Her eyes rake your features up and down, like a human scanner, and you can’t help but gulp. You hoped all your hard work was not in vain. 

“Uh-He’s in...the bathroom.” You lie with a wry smile, hoping she’ll buy it with just enough time to get you into the room she’s so close to unlocking. 

She purses her lips and looks away from you, but doesn’t ask you anything further on the manner. 

“Have fun in the garden!” She says instead of throwing you out and opens the plain door to the grandest thing you think you’ve ever seen. 

Couples scream and laugh as they whiz past you on your journey to roam freely around the edible valley. You can’t be bothered though, as your mouth is going to collect dust if you leave it unhinges for too long. 

There are no words. You couldn’t fathom half the things in this room. Is this even a factory anymore, or are you in heaven? 

It’s… simply breathtaking. 

The online forms were right - there is a giant edible garden - but the words and descriptions on screen didn’t do the real thing any justice. And, of course, they confiscated your phones even before you entered the building so you couldn’t document this creation out of a book come to life scene unfolding before your eyes. 

You are stunned as you walk on the hardened peanut butter cup path towards the giant garden in the middle of four, high walls. Your eyes sparkle, filling with tears of joy upon seeing the beautiful, wonderful sights before your eyes, covering your mouth as the couples in your tour guide pass by your idle body. It is seriously extremely super overwhelming: your senses are going on overdrive as your sockets roam over every inch of the garden that you can see. You just need a moment to take everything in. 

There is so much - so many details and little things going on. 

Trees made of marbled dark and milk chocolate stand tall, protruding into the blue-raspberry colored sky, pastel cotton candy clouds wisping around above you. Most of the whimsical looking plants bear fruit of all kinds and gummy leaves hanging low off their perfectly carved branches. You hear a trickle of something, like a stream of water, and see that there is a tiny clear yet caffeinated creek of soda-pop softly crackling its way through the garden. Following your eyes, you see there’s realistic grey rock-candy gravel and well, rocks, underfoot as well as strings of grass you can only assume are sour green-apple flavored, or even possibly key-lime pie? You can’t be certain but you can’t wait to try it! There’s a fountain spewing caramel in the middle of the garden, surrounded by a pool of white chocolate, and it's held together by what looks to be a brick, but upon a further glance, you suspect that it’s potentially licorice or Twizzlers, or a combination of both. There’s tables, chairs, and benches made out of finely crafted shortbread cookies placed along the peanut butter paths of the edible wonderland. There are colorful flowers made of lollipops and sugared, blown glass softly billowing in the artificial breeze, seemingly waving at you as you gawk on in shock.  

It’s all too beautiful. Your mind is having trouble processing everything until you hear an excited scream about life-sized gummy bear bushes and you can’t help, but want to investigate further. 

Your feet finally start to move as you are openly sniffling and crying: you are such a happy mess. 

A stout figure smiles at your back, a menacing aura surrounding her as she presses a single digit on her smartwatch to the man behind this beautiful room and factory. 

“Fritz?” He questions, nearly shrieking through the speaker with excitement. “How are our esteemed guests doing?”

“Oh… Well, I suppose,” her upper lip curves into something dreadfully evil. “But, we have a lost little crumb who decided to bend the rules and attend the party without a date.” 

The young CEO sighs into the receiver, watching everything unfold from his observation deck placed high above the ground, in order to study the humans roaming around his perfect, edible garden. 

He knows. He’s known since she walked in here that she was alone and didn’t have a special someone to share this day of candy hearts and love songs to. 

Which was perfect because well, you see, neither did he. 

He sighs as he tips his silkened purple top hat up to view the mesmerized crowd down below, throwing up his dark leather boots on the desk in the observation deck. Deep down, the young man was lonely, hiding his family’s recipes and secrets for the rest of his life due to the enigma that was the candy business. His usually jovial smile turns into a sour frown as he watches her stand shell-shocked by the river of soda pop, staring up into the cotton candy clouds. Or, paradise, as he calls it.

It was as if she was looking at him, knowing there was someone watching her admire and take in all the hard work that he and his staff have given to the largest and most amazing room in the factory. He leans into the window, removing his boots from the desk to watch her with her mouth agape take in the splendor and majesty that was his garden. His eyes widen as he studies her expression. She hasn’t even eaten or enjoyed anything in the room yet… Why is that he wonders? Was she a spy for another company? No, it was more like she was in complete disbelief that this was even real. Almost like she was marveling at his handy work...

Suddenly, the young man clad in his expensive purple suit has a wicked thought. Oh yes! If she is a fan of confections of any kind she will be a great asset to the company and myself! A dream only someone of his caliber who’s spent so much of his time up in the clouds could fathom. Or she’ll do nicely for some company if I end up breaking her in the process then! 

“Fritz,” he presses his watch up to his lips that curve into a devious smile. “Bring her up.” His amber eyes turn dark and cloudy as he thinks of his lair, a lab where he designs desserts and candies of all kinds. “I think we found our new taste tester.”

Oh wow! This is really unlike anything you could even dare of dreaming! You don’t think anything can ever compare to the concoctions and creations that the Hope World Factory has let the outside world enjoy for a mere afternoon. It didn’t seem right to you to try anything. If you ate and ruined all the time it took someone to place here so craftily and carefully. No. You didn’t think you could. 

Unlike some...

A playful screech comes from your left and you duck just in time to see a flash of white pass right by your nose. 

You watch with mirth as a couple runs by you, throwing marshmallow fluff off the cherry flavored giant mushrooms placed delicately around the garden. They scream and fly past you, making a mess of the precise and wonderful dessert and bakery items it probably took a whole team of people to create. You frown with judgmental eyes, studying the pair of grown adults act like they were children. 

Though you suppose, candy does revert you back to your childhood, where everything was much more innocent and easy to deal with. 

It was amazing what a room of sweets could do to a group of people. 

They race around, running this way and that, laughing and having the time of their lives with giant smiles plastered on their faces. They disappear from view and you stand watching the space from where they left, under a chocolate tree with gummy bananas hanging off of them. 

Shooting through your body, a zinging pain shoots through your heart feeling like the zap of a thousand volts of electricity that trickles down to your toes and lights its way back up your spine again. 

You freeze watching the pair disappear behind a licorice willow tree. With a tired gulp and a teary blink in your eye, you have to face reality. Truth hurts, as some would say: you are incredibly lonely. 

“Miss,” just then, the shrill voice of the stout lady behind you echoes from where you are standing and you nearly jump right out of your skin you are frightened by the sneaky tour guide. You all but tense up, breathing hitching as your sockets expand, fearing for the worst. “Miss, a word?” Your nerves were on fire as the soda stream pops and fizzles next to you, filling your ears with the carbonated crackling, as well as all the blood that rushes to your ears. Adrenaline running through your veins, like hot-white lightening sparking up and down from head to toe.  

Shit! You think turning to face the orange lady with a sheepish smile. I’ve been caught! 

“Y-Yes?” You mumble as she smiles on at you turning to face her fully. 

“Who can take a sunrise?” She starts to sing an eerie tune and your stomach pits. “Sprinkle it with dew?” Your eyes are the size of the moon as you watch her bring a bag out of her pocket as she continues to smile that weird, twisted smile at you. “Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two?” Your heart is pounding out of its chest staring at this round orange woman who reaches into her silkened purple bag, pulling up a handful of what looks like sparkling glitter. “The candy man can.” Her mouth continues to stretch across her face, as she makes invisible worms and spiders crawl along your skin that’s turned to ice. She lifts her hand and blows the dusty glitter into your eyes, as you try to recoil from the crazy action the tour guide throws your way.  

Literally. 

“Hey!” You yell, opening your eyes to find the world covered in glistening lights, the garden shiny and bright for some strange reason. “What the heck?!” 

“Because he mixes it with love,” she ignores you and continues chanting her odd song to you. Your eyelids feel heavy, your body suddenly sluggish, “and chocolate,” you can barely stand on your own two feet as you feel yourself slumping forward and backward. You feel like you are stuck in a murky pit of blackness, and will never be able to escape from the throes of this evil she’s thrown at you. Unable to form a coherent thought, sleep seeps into your mind as you start to succumb to the feeling. Darkness creeps around your vision as you start to fall. Two pairs of hands keep your body up as you hear the orange lady say a few final words. “And makes the world taste good.” 

-

When you come to your senses, you have a sneaking suspicion that you aren’t in the garden anymore.  Your eyes are clouded with that weird dust that the weird-ass tour guide blew in your face. There’s more shining, glittering lights floating above you and you realize all the spotlights are all pointed at you. You try to blink the dust away but every move you make makes your body ache for some reason. Why were you in pain? Did you fall? No, you could have sworn there were two people holding you up, carrying you, while you heard… singing, the whole time…

So weird.

Oh crap, speaking of that green-haired tour guide… You gasp a little, foggy brain finally waking up fully, and you nearly grasp. You finally understand. You were caught! You broke the rules though and you deserve to be reprimanded and rightfully so. But, the question still stands. 

With a groan and a small shift of your head, you try to grab your throbbing head, but it was sadly in vain. 

You blink rapidly. No. This had to be a bad dream right? You are not strapped to a metal object, right? No. Your hands around bound and placed above you? No. You try to kick your legs, only to find your ankles confined into shackles connect to the cool metal item. Loud noises of your struggle erupt from your body, echoing throughout the small, sterile room. Metal clanging around itself was the worst thing you think you’ve ever heard.

There’s… no way… right? 

Your eyes expand, practically falling out of your head as your empty stomach flips over on itself. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, throat running dry. You let out a blood-curdling scream upon realizing that you are tied to a flat, stainless steel table in the middle of a brightly lit, sterile-looking room. You hear the faint melody that evil woman was humming in the distance and you want to throw up you feel physically sick. 

This was something out of a terrible bad trip, a nightmare, a horror movie. Is this a scene from a sci-fi film? Your eyes are shaking in their sockets, unable to focus on anything. 

Sure, you broke the rules. Sure, you should be punished for it or be fined a sum of money. But, wasn’t this a little extreme? What were they going to do? Torture you?  Was the policy for breaking the rules to probe you? With a hard swallow, you honestly hope that’s a solid no. 

“Hi there, little crumb.” Comes the awful, nails on a chalkboard, screeching sound of the stout tour guide flutters in somewhere above you. No! You plead to no one in your head. No please don’t kill me! I haven’t even eaten anything from the garden yet!

Your heart is beating, drumming, pounding at the shackles of your sternum to bust free from your chest. Her sweaty, orange meaty fingers come out of nowhere to twist your face toward her. A twisted smirk forms on her scaly lips, her white eyebrows rising to her wide forehead to reveal her pinked gums and dilated eyes beaming, honing in on you. Her yellow, laser-like eyes lock together with yours, which enlarge in fear. 

“You think you are special, huh?” She laughs, throwing her head back and maniacally cackling. “You think just because the young master has chosen you of all people to be his new taste-tester you think you are something else?” 

“We are going to have so much fun,” she lifts a pumpkin carving knife up to your neck, “together.” She hisses, leaning in, and you nearly taste the bile, the vomit rising in your esophagus while you can’t form a single clear thought as you watch her press the shiny blade to your throat further. Your breathing hitches as she sneers, leaning in closer to practically spit on you. “I’ve loved him for years, since he had dreams to build the garden and you think that YOU,” you wince when you feel the stinging slice of the blade a trickle of blood runs down from your skin and onto the blade. “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE HIM FROM ME?”

You are going to die. You are going to die. You are going to be murdered in cold blood by this woman who knows nothing about you. She’s going to kill you and probably play jump-rope in your intestines. 

“Hello, little lady.” A cheerful voice filters in from behind the orange lady, snapping you out of your swirling, disintegrating thoughts of your impending peril and doom. “And goodbye Fritz.” 

Before the round woman could even think to turn around, your vision, that was once white and sterile, is painted in bright sticky red. 

Blood to be exact. 

It drips from the giant blue lollipop-shaped into a knife protruding from the orange chest of the orange tour guide. Red particles splatter upon your body, painting you in the warm, maroon color of her life force that someone is robbing from her. Her eyes roll back into her skull, removing the carving knife from your throat as she spits a lump of clotted blood out of her dry, cracked lips. 

Your lips part in shock, eyes continuing to stay as wide as dinner plates as you watch the lady before you crumple in on herself and slump to the ground in a heap of orange, red, and green. 

A man in silkened purple suit, with a shit-eating grin curving his lips and whose white gloves were speckled and smeared pink from the blood of his staff, was clapping enthusiastically. The sound fills the once sterile room, the noise jarring and ear-splitting as you recoil slightly every time his covered palm connects to the other. 

Why is he clapping? He beams as he steps over her dead, lifeless body as yours tenses up. And who the fuck is he?

You remember where you are and why you were here in the first place and you nearly jump out of your skin. 

He’s… oh my God...

The young CEO of the Hope World Factory: Jung Hoseok. 

He is handsome, there’s no doubt about that. His chestnut-colored hair is barely visible due to the matching violet top hat that covers his head. Amber eyes that sparkle with mischief under the bright spotlight of the medical looking room. You can’t help but drink him in as he starts to loom over you. His slender nose sculpts into a soft-looking smirk, that's curved into a tender smile, shines gently down around you laid out on the cold metal bed. His grin really is magnetic because you are completely captivated by this man who looms lower and lower over you, until you can smell the sweet aroma wafting in around him. 

Enthralled, enchanted, mesmerized… This man has a spell over you and you can't look away. 

But you have to ask, “Are you going to kill me?” 

He blinks at you in disbelief, smile falling only for a moment before he starts scream-laughing. 

“What?” He chuckles as he clutches his sides, cackling himself into stitches. “Oh, no no no, little crumb!” His nostrils flare, honey-colored eyes dilating. “You know who I am, yes? You’ve put two and two together?” 

You nod, with a weak ‘yes’ leaving your mouth. 

“Then you know I’m the infamous candy man, Jung Hoseok.” He sneers, slamming his stained bloody gloves on either side of you on the metal table. “I’m solely going to play with you, little crumb.”

A gasp leaves your lips as you register his words in your head.

You struggle in the shackles, trying to retreat away from the man sneering down at you with mirth. He cocks his head to the side, the bright light being blocked from the man practically climbing on top of you. “Do you know what my main ingredient is here at the Hope World Factory?” His voice drops an octave and his playful eyes cloud over with something dark. 

You swivel your head back and forth in a no.

Hoseok slams his hand down next to your head, nabbing your attention in full force. “Speak when spoken to, pet.”

“N-No.” You whisper, a tear leaves one of your eyes, sliding out of your socket, dripping onto the cold table. 

“Very good.” He caresses your face with the back of his pinkened-color glove. With a menacing and misplaced smirk, Hoseok dips down to your neck where the tour guide shallowly cut you. You whimper with trembling lips, closing your eyes moving your face away from him, which only reveals the pulse point of your neck to him more. “Oh, very good.” You hear him inhale before the warm flat of his tongue laps the trickle of blood that streams out from your flesh. 

Did he just… drink your blood?

Hoseok stands then, lips swollen and colored with your blood, grinning like a wild, maniac above you. “Oh, you’ll do just nicely.”

“F-for-r wh-what?” You shake, tied to the table you are straining, desperate to get out of. 

He raises his hands above you, eyes dark with no sparkle left in them. “I drained my last taste tester, broke her, some would say. But, oh you,” he cups your face leaning in to grin at you with his pearly whites coated in your blood, “you just need to lay here and look pretty while your blood is our secret ingredient for all things sweet in the Hope World Factory.” He shrieks, laughing like an insane person as he cups your face in his sticky palms. “Isn’t that great?” 

Your heart breaks as you silently beg for a quick and easy death like the lady on the ground. This was not what you had in mind for your Valentine's Day, as well as the rest of your life.

“You can’t keep me here.” You whisper, but it sounds like you are begging him more at this point than anything. 

He ignores you and starts humming that dreadfully eerie song from earlier as he leans back over to trap your wounds in between his lips again. “The candy man can.” He hums into your skin, his tongue swirling all over your poor neck. “Because he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good.” 

———

[fimflamfilosophy]

Characters: Tearing Each Other Together

After the world-sweeping success of my previous article (forty notes on Tumblr, wow!) and being driven out of my house due to mold for the second time in two months, I think the time is right to add another essay to the subject of character design and writing. But what’s left to say after having definitely solved the entire process of character writing the last time?

Well, suppose you can figure out the emotional state of one person. That’s well and good, and oddly harder for people than you might imagine. And I think the reason it’s so hard is because in virtually any show you’re not going to be given a character in a vacuum to learn that process from. They have some story, something they’re trying to overcome, and other characters they’re bouncing off of, and the actual process of conflict is more complicated than knowing who your characters are.

Hate, Love, or Indifference, It’s All A Struggle

So what’s the essence of a story? There’s some motive that’s trying to be achieved. A conflict. And I can’t stress this enough. Conflict. Because it’s one thing if you say your main character is a kid who wants to be the best Poke’mon trainer and completely another to have that be a concrete objective with a satisfying story and conclusion. Wanting to be the “best” isn’t actually conflict. It’s a dream. Being forced to travel the known world to acquire eight gaudy pins that probably cost twenty-five cents each to manufacture? That’s conflict.

And not only do you have to travel the world, you do so with a shrill red-head who explicitly hates you because you trashed her bike, and a sex-starved pervert whose life dream is to make Poke’mon mate with each other for a living. And that’s important. Without Misty and Brock, Ash’s journey is a lot less interesting for a lot of reasons. Misty calls Ash out every time he messes up, and aside from being on a watch list, Brock is a helpful older character who tells Ash, and therefore the audience, what’s what.

But let’s back up, because people understand the benefit of Brock and Misty at a basic level, but when you’re starting off, how do you know who those people should be? Well, every show, from sitcom, to comedy to drama, does its best to balance personalities against each other so there’s always some sort of conflict possible between them.

Now, “conflict” doesn’t mean they’re trying to kill each other. It could mean they’re falling in love with each other. Maybe it means they don’t have much in common but have to work together over long hours in isolation. The idea is simply that there’s something to overcome between these people. Misty thinks Ash is stupid - that’s a conflict which is often leveraged to push Ash forward. Brock, however, has a reactive role in the show, only functioning in conflict when a womanizer who grovels at the feet of ladies Ash is already helping anyway.

It’s odd because if Misty were older she would be set up very well as kind of an “opposites” romantic torture device with Brock. They’re even depicted as professional equals, which would have made their levels of expertise and experience more balanced. Had they been closer in apparent age, a “will they won’t they” romance would have fit adequately, with Brock’s constant hitting on other women serving as a major, hopeless, long-lasting roadblock to a serious relationship between them; it would work especially well because Misty is established to have an inferiority complex to her prettier sisters. It also might help explain why Brock hung around so long. But as it was, Brock’s main contribution to the inner dynamic was to act as a mediator, caretaker, and mentor.

But circling back to Brock’s dream of Poke’mon husbandry. Well, on the meta level that’s why he doesn’t leave. Because it’s not a motive, he’s not taking steps towards it, and it’s not going to happen, it’s just a dream. Until it does happen, anyway, and then they wrote him out of the show - but we’ll dig more into this later.

Balancing Imbalance

The best place to look to see good conflict set ups between characters are popular sitcoms. Consider the show “Frasier”: it ran for eleven seasons and revolved mainly around the personal spats of Frasier, his brother Niles, their dad, and the dad’s caretaker, Daphne. Frasier was arrogant, Niles was insecure, Dad was an earnest roughneck, and Daphne was well-meaning. Frasier and Niles were also elitist pricks at times so they couldn’t even always agree where to eat together, much less with their father who was happier having a burger with ketchup.

Every episode had some central motivator; an ice fishing trip, a joint investment, an awards ceremony - but these things were just catalysts to the main conflict, which was almost always something between characters. We’d seen it time and again, that Frasier and his Dad would come to blows over differences in taste. Niles would try to court Daphne while torn by his commitment to his failing marriage, over and over. But the pithy banter and the way they resolved it would always be new, so people watched this show, episode after episode, for over a decade.

And the simple beauty of it all was that each of the characters had something to do with each other. Whether it be filial obligation, lust, sibling rivalry, friction between introversion and extroversion, or taste in food, they always had some source of conflict to make a show out of. Niles and Frasier were both psychiatrists, but from different schools of thought and different working environments, so they even had chances to butt heads academically and professionally. It was rich with writing opportunities and it’s not any wonder it lasted so long.

Another sitcom, “New Girl”, which was about a group of roommates, had a good dynamic set-up between two characters, Schmidt and Nick. Nick is a messy slob and Schmidt’s a type A neat freak, creating a really obvious source of conflict to work with. But then they had a third character, Winston, who they lampshade as the token black guy. 

Now, the joke that Winston is the “black friend” has pretty much no legs, so in the early seasons you see him acting as kind of a third party mediator, or maybe a wild card, and it winds up being funnier when Winston is unhelpful. So as the seasons went on, Winston gradually lost his damn mind. He becomes a cop and meets a woman so that he’d have some character growth and dynamic, but also develops into a man who would burn a building down as a prank. The writers had no idea what they were doing with him and he gradually flew further and further off the handle.

Don’t get me wrong, I really liked Winston as a character. Aside from being funny in the show, watching the writers gradually unglue him from sanity was its own meta comedy above that. I knew they were doing it on accident, but having such a good time with it that it was just going to keep getting worse. In fact a major component of the finale for the whole show is an insane thing Winston does. They wrap the show on the note, “Winston is crazy”. And it all happened because they didn’t figure out what Winston’s conflict was at the start. He didn’t have a source of conflict with anyone, so the man became a living breathing embodiment of conflict in general.

Your Story Ends With the Conflict

Now, the catch is, in any type of fiction, whether a video game, a roleplaying session, or a sitcom, the story ends when the conflict does, because if the conflict is over there’s nothing more to tell! It used to frustrate me to no end back when “My Little Pony” was popular and the other nerds on the internet used to ask, “How many times must Fluttershy learn not to be shy, or that being shy is okay? When will she overcome all that she is and eliminate the core element that creates conflict for her?”

The answer should always be that the character will learn their damn lesson when the show ends or when they’re written off it. If you are sick of seeing a character and don’t want to see them any more, the best thing to do is close out their issues, because once they have no conflicts, they have no story, and there’s no point in doing a show about them. Asking Fluttershy to stop being shy is asking to say goodbye to her, because she's a cartoon and her job is to entertain kids by being neurotic and yellow.

People think they’re so smart when they say they’d solve all a character’s problems if it were them. In the finale to the first season of Poke’mon, for example, Ash decides to gamble his whole championship run on Charizard, who’s a self-absorbed bitch of a creature that ultimately throws the match and leaves it an open question whether Ash might have won if he’d left the team primadonna sitting on the bench.

Some viewers see that and complain it’s the dumbest possible thing Ash could have done, but it’s probably one of the single most brilliant things the Poke’mon writers did in the grand scheme, because think about where it left us. Ash didn’t achieve his goal of proving he’s “the best”, but it feels like a fluke and if he got another shot, he might make it all the way. This gave the show a gateway to more episodes with Ash still having something to prove and a dumb mistake indicating he still had a lot to learn. Because he didn’t win, his story hadn’t ended.

In some cases shows can end characters just by addressing some dream goal they’ve been expressing since the first season. In the case of Brock, they intentionally removed him from the show by introducing him to some girl who was willing to work with Brock in the animal husbandry business. He’d been traveling all this time, his dream opportunity fell into his lap, and he was gone. What reason would he have to refuse, and why would anyone stop him? And of course, Brock’s dream job was incompatible with the central plot elements of the rest of the show, so that was it!

The Format Informs the Conflict

If you want to write something but you aren’t sure when it’s going to end, you need a concrete, long-term conflict that’s not just going to go away. For example, in “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts”, there were thirteen ghosts. By design, that show should have ended after Scooby Doo found all thirteen ghosts. It actually ended earlier than that because it was cancelled, but you get the idea. When you have a finite goal, your run time is going to be finite as well.

At least in theory. In “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure” they establish at the beginning of one season that everyone’s magic powers were based on the Tarot. Now, I don’t know the Tarot off hand, but as the show went on I knew that sooner or later they’d run out of Tarot cards, and in my mind I assumed the season would be over when the Tarot ended. But then I got a good chuckle when a guy showed up and his powers were based on a totally different theme, because I knew the writer had realized he’d stumbled into something good and wasn’t ready to end it. He invented a cheap excuse to keep going! And I think if “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts” had been successful they’d have managed to unleash a whole lot more than thirteen ghosts because Hannah Barbera was not exactly a studio with a lot of shame.

Character conflicts like those in sitcoms are a great way to have conflict perpetually, because people don’t really change that much and there’s no reason why most of the fundamental friction shouldn’t be there indefinitely. But of course, character-driven conflict is going to be secondary in an event-driven show. “Jojo” actually does have a lot of character conflict, but the plot is primarily about the battles and the journey - if all the fighting ended Jojo’s characters probably couldn’t carry a sitcom, at least not without some serious hard work, a little genius, and a touch of elbow grease.

For event-driven conflict, you’ll want to establish a target - a moving target if you don't know when the story ends, and that can be pretty difficult. Old action shows and comics used to do it by having a rotating cast of villains, so that after one was defeated another would show up tomorrow, and it was assumed these guys regularly broke out of prison, or they escaped in rocket pods, or whatever, and they’d be back later with a new goofy scheme. In these cases you tend to find reactive heroes; they patrol the streets until a lunatic in tights and a garden-themed hat shows up and transforms everyone into people-shaped topiaries somehow.

For active heroes, you need to establish something that requires a lot of structure, like Ash’s journey to win the Poke’mon League. In every country he visits, they all have this asinine rule that you have to go to eight unique locations and kick the ass of someone who disadvantages themselves with an easily-countered mono team that all have the same exact weakness. You can’t be accepted into the League if you haven’t proven you own a water Poke’mon to utterly flatten the fire gym! Let’s be real, this nonsense is probably designed intentionally as a money gate - most people run out of cash before they qualify. Either way, it ends when Ash wins the league, and he lost the league so the show could keep going.

For roleplaying games, the same rules apply. With your players, you’re either going to establish a reactive goal - an adventuring guild hires a bunch of colorful salarymen with silly accents to go to a dungeon as part of their nine to five job - or you need players to set an active goal for themselves and keep the realization of that goal beyond their reach until you’re ready to end the game.

The Active Hero Acts

In my younger years, I learned to roleplay in almost exclusively player-driven games where we were expected to come up with our own goals and pursue them ourselves, but I’ve discovered that is stunningly rare in most roleplaying circles. Your typical D&D player likes to play the salaryman with a funny accent who doesn’t have to worry about the venturous part of adventure. His boss told him to go to the Cave of Everlasting Wonders and Torturous Screams, recover the Sword of Bad Portent, and then hand it over to the department of magic items where they’ll file the paperwork to get it delivered to the patron that wanted the sword for some reason. No need to have your own motives.

But what if you want to play a crime fighter who actually, you know, busts up all the crime? Clearly you can’t just wait for crime to happen passively - you’ve got to go after people. Act instead of being reactive. Purse snatchers are small time and in a more grounded setting the guys you’ll catch by being passive are just grunts being hired out by someone - usually kids in a lot of cases. You have to seek out the bosses.

Making an active character to fit into any setting can be challenging, and I’ve seen quite a few pitfalls. I think one of the funniest motives is always “the guy who wants to go home” due to its obvious failure condition. A lot of stories are about everymen who just want to get out of trouble, but those stories end when they get out of trouble! In many books, movies, shows, or roleplaying games, you’re almost always going to find opportunities to send that guy home, and you’ll have to either conveniently ignore it, switch motives and decide not to go home, or end the whole story with going home. These characters only work where the story is happening to them and it's all out of their control.

I’ve also seen my share of the “quirky genius inventor/scientist”. When someone designs a character mistaking a dream for a motive. They dream of building a better mouse trap, you see. That’s their inner conflict. And while this is a real world conflict, it’s difficult to make it a good story because actual science and invention involves a lengthy quantity of controlled experiments. You breed hundreds of fruit flies, expose them to nicotine, and try to isolate the gene that causes nicotine resistance. It can be fascinating work at its level but sometimes the most exciting part of your day is when you give yourself a steam burn cooking the fly food. The “quirky scientist” in fiction is usually more of a mentor, and if he insists on staying in his lab doing his work then he’s not even a main character - he’s a guy who explains fruit flies to the audience and then is never heard from again. Other times he’s the asshole who invented the story’s whole problem.

I once played in a game with “the quirky scientist who wants to go home”, and man was that a frustrating ride. The game itself was about occult magic and demons, and for most of the game the scientist was experimenting with teleportation magic to go home and was focused on that above the goal of finding and eradicating demons (the game’s premise). And when he finally met a boss demon that could teleport him home to his lab, he went! We wound up retiring a character who, to be honest, was barely even interested in the main subject of the story. Had he been in a film or a show, they’d have cut the character after the first draft because he served no purpose and wasted screen time.

So how do you make sure your character has a working, proactive goal, in a nutshell? Establish a goal that can be achieved by the character within the framework of your story through action by leaving his house (or after burning his house down so he can’t go home), and then make sure the goal is big enough that it will take many broad steps to get there - those steps need to be concrete and visible, not things that would happen off-screen. Most importantly, tie that goal into the main premise of the story, so that reaching the end of the story generally may achieve what the character wants.

If You Aren’t Trying, It’s Not A Trial

Okay, I understand that last bit probably requires more unpacking. But think of it this way. There’s a writing structure referred to as the “Hero’s Journey”. Basically it goes like this: the hero is forced into adventure, he meets friends and goes through trials, he hits his lowest point, he is reborn into a better man, he ends the conflict, story over.

What I’m talking about specifically right now are the trials. The “wacky inventor” is usually presumed to do all his research off screen because most media likes to focus on the results of the invention and the conflict. But if you were to focus on the trials of a scientist, it’d actually be about procuring research grants and potentially materials. You wouldn’t watch a show about a man who checks gene A-235 for nicotine resistance in flies, then goes on to A-236, then A-237.

If I were to write a story about a researcher, here’s one thing I might do: the researcher fails to find what he’s looking for in gene A-235, and when he goes to seek a grant to look at A-236, he finds one of his colleagues has convinced the university that the protagonist’s research is a dead end. Hearing this, the researcher realizes he’s about to lose his lab, so he writes a bit of a lie into his report on A-235. He says it may prevent cancer.

Now, the protagonist is, deep down, a good man. He thinks this will generate some buzz at the university and get him more funding, but he’ll do a follow-up and show the data doesn’t hold up. After that he’ll ask for money for A-236 and everything goes back to normal. But disaster strikes. His article, which was only supposed to show up in an obscure research journal, gets picked up by a major news network and winds up being spread all over. Suddenly he’s “the man who cured cancer”.

And as he’s trying to figure out how to navigate the issue, another researcher comes out and says that under peer review, he was able to replicate the results. He too shows that A-235 cures cancer! Now the hero isn’t sure. He becomes a celebrity and simply lies about his research because he has no real data, but try desperately as he might, in private he just can’t get the results the peer review insisted were there.

He struggles and struggles, coming to blows with his colleague who’s scrutinizing his research notes. Throw in a love interest who’s impressed with what this guy did, and actually I think I’ve just described the plot of some movie I saw a long time ago about faking cold fusion. I think Albert Einstein was a supporting character in it. In my version the twist would be the peer reviewer was also trying to get a grant by lying. Point is, the central conflict of the film certainly isn’t the scientific process, it’s all the crazy crap that happened on the way from point A to point B.

The story is in the trials. If nothing changes, if the character doesn’t have to change their way of life or go through anything special, it’s either not a story or it’s not your typical story. There are plenty of experimental films or well-regarded books that can make a certain banality become interesting. Stories that explain the simple struggles of day to day living for people on hard times. But the trials, the palpable challenges, that’s really the meat of it all. When you think of what your character should be doing throughout the story, he should be going through these efforts, these steps, these trials, all in the name of whatever his broader goal is.

Where You Start Affects Where You End

It also matters quite a lot when and where characters are introduced. A lot of tales follow some basic notes, and one of the more common elements is “crossing the threshold”, which prevents your characters from going back to their life before the adventure. It’s used because it compels the characters forward, as they have no other direction they can go. It can be anything: the character’s home town is destroyed, the character commits a crime, he accepts a contract, his mother dies - so long as it prevents him from going back. It’s especially useful in roleplaying games where you really need everyone to be driving forward.

In one such roleplaying game, I got in a spat with the guy who wanted to run the game because I was trying to make a leader character, but the game master wanted to base his game around a movie he’d seen with a single main character. He’d elected another player to be that main character, and explained to me he’d be starting the game after that character had already crossed the threshold and had begun his journey. This meant that everyone else were supporting cast and could go back to their normal lives at any time, because they were coming willingly from where they were and not really facing any drastic changes to their personal status quo.

I eventually resolved not to play in that game at all, because none of the character dynamics I wanted were going to work. It was supposed to be a “wannabe” superhero game, with the premise that everyone wanted to be heroes, except one player had already started the journey and it turned out another had already reached the end of that arc and was going to play a character that had been a hero going on years before the story began. There was no plan to really reconcile the narrative clashes.

If that game were to work as it was, without me being present, then the person playing the pre-established hero would have needed to take the mentor role. The other players besides the main character would have needed to be comfortable in auxiliary roles, and the group would have to play as though they were part-way into the story. Still learning to be a team but well past the initial stages of a plot, and they’d all need to think up reasons to be in this group individually on their own, because the threshold had already been crossed and they didn’t cross it together.

The friend running the game was actually dismissive of my advice here, arguing that I was overcomplicating everything with a meta analysis of narrative and structure when all we need is a basic drive to play, and I don’t think he realized he’d set himself up with a much more complicated game and less cohesive premise by going about things as he had.

The already established hero couldn’t be the mentor because a mentor character had already been created as an NPC. The auxiliary players weren’t really informed at the outset they’d be auxiliaries - especially not me who’d wanted to play the team leader. The player who’d been designated as the central protagonist didn’t want to lead or be the central protagonist. It could have worked, but it would have taken a lot more planning and many more concessions than a typical game.

In a more recent game, I’ve got another bit of an issue with the start misleading the general goals of the players. It’s a sci-fi game, and first, one player is doing “the quirky inventor scientist”; his current stated dream is vaguely to create transhumanist technology. He also wants to play the leader, so he established himself as the most important man nobody has ever heard of. He has spies in every major institution in the known galaxy and is a genius beyond comparison. He’s currently based in a rusting pirate ship in the middle of the space boonies doing nothing with his life save being the most important man.

Meanwhile, I set up a disgraced military officer with a revenge quest against his own nation. But the pirate crew my character joined turned out to not believe in structure nor leadership and they killed their last commander to have a system of “democracy”. My structure-minded character has tried to take the lead and drive us forward, but he runs into general deconstructive resistance and the “quirky scientist” wants to be the leader, but hasn’t yet expressed self-motivated goals.

It’s not exactly my most harmonious game and there’s quite a lot going wrong here, but here’s how it could have worked: first, establishing that the crew of the pirates respects no leadership places the entire crew in the precarious position of being “chickenshit” at the outset. That kind of incohesiveness is why a band of rogues gets easily defeated; it’s not the behavior of scrappy men of action, but hopeless men of inaction. A corrupted “democracy” collectivises failure while awarding success to whoever actually has the most power in the group structure - it protects the weak leaders from responsibility and disincentivizes good work by allowing those same men to reap rewards while offloading the burdens to those lower on the ladder. In essence, “If things are screwed up, blame the democracy. If things are good, I did it.”

What should have happened was the “quirky scientist” should have been in charge to start with, because otherwise he has no reason to be on board the ship. He’s the most powerful man in the galaxy, after all. If it were because he was financing the pirates to go on raiding and salvage missions relevant to his research, then it would make sense. He’d have a purpose and a position of leadership just as the player wanted. It would also establish the pirates have some command structure and a level of respect for it that allows them to function.

And the power struggle between the disgraced officer and the scientist? Perfectly reasonable character conflict that would drive actual, meaningful roleplaying and story. The scientist may bankroll the operation but the officer is the tactical talent and the two pull in opposite directions, as power-hungry men often do.

However, the opportunity to start with a sensible and meaningful social dynamic has passed, and on top of that the “quirky scientist” keeps his galaxy-wide power a secret, so it’s all kind of messy and “badly written” in the sense that most audiences would be generally rooting for the crew to fail, and they’d find the grand reveal of the scientist’s galactic power to be frustrating and unrewarding because it’s more of a plot hole than anything. So close on so many counts and yet so very far, and the opportunity to pull it together eventually is present but a more challenging and uphill battle than getting it right at the outset.

In The End, Did We Even Learn Anything?

Creating a character is easy, in my opinion. Creating a working story with a group of self-driven characters can be a lot harder. This is especially true of roleplaying games or of cooperation with multiple writers, where you need to be on the same general page with a committee. It can help a lot to establish the exact conflicts at the beginning, but as can be seen with Winston from “New Girl” or the later seasons of “My Little Pony”, what you have can morph beyond your control as things go on.

Sometimes you never had control in the first place. Sometimes you lose control because you conclude the original conflict of your story and struggle to find a new one - the brand is too successful to let go. Maybe an executive comes in and injects an idea that throws the entire balance of everything totally out of whack and now nothing works. Sometimes your friend thinks story structure is overrated. It’s a difficult juggling act.

So at the end of this essay did we even learn anything? It depends a lot on what you’re trying to do and what you wanted to learn. If you’re the more typical Dungeons and Dragons group, you don’t need to think much about this. Just make your characters and passively react to activities handed out by Dungeons, Dungeons & Co - your conflict is event-driven. Are you writing a sitcom? Well, balance a tangled web of conflicting character habits and write the ensuing disaster. Want to make a complex film about a group of highly motivated, proactive people with sophisticated individual goals that ultimately converge while still respecting their rich, conflicting, inner politics, and do all that writing as part of a team? Well, good goddamn luck, but with the right start and enough care you can make it happen.

[loserslibrary]

pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier [Reddie] written by: Jane rating: Teen word count: 2,306  prompt: “ hello! Could i please request a domestic reddie fic! Anything with kids will make me very happy, thank you ”

Richie’s resigned himself to a lot of things in his life.

Some which are still true—he’s never going to be able to fucking ice skate, giraffe human that he is, but he’s found a workaround in being very good at letting Eddie pull him across the ice—and some which aren’t—namely some thought-to-be hopeless yearnst for Eddie when he was sixteen which culminated in two very dramatic song-writing sessions, proven unnecessary five months later when Eddie captured his lips in a kiss at the quarry.

Still, one thing he hadn’t been expecting to resign himself to was his lack of future as a PTA Dad, and yet, here he is. 35 years old and seeing his brief dream of being the cupcake god of Ms Divega’s class turn to smoke before his very eyes. 

Literal smoke, that is. 

“Daddy,” Gab says, nose scrunched up, tone solemn, “they don’t smell good.”

His daughter is highly critical. Unfortunately, she’s also correct.

Richie reaches to open the oven, before pausing halfway, glancing at the smoke he can already see, and then back at Gab. There’s a teenage Eddie in the back of his head, lecturing him and Bev on all the different types of smoke, and how they’re all bad for you, stop inhaling carcinogens, you fucking nerds—-okay, Richie can’t actually remember the entire lecture, just the way Eddie looked with his hand on his hip and brow furrowed, but he’s pretty sure that the takeaway of it is that he should probably move his daughter well out of range of any smoke that might escape when he opens the oven door.

“C’mon, Gabs,” Richie says, scooping her up in his arms. Her arms settle around his neck obligingly, and he’s overwhelmed with affection. There were legitimately days when Richie had thought he’d never have anything like this—when he thought it would be swallowing his feelings down forever, watching all his friends find something worth holding onto, staying on the sidelines because he couldn’t be brave when it counted. But look at him now: married to the love of his life, getting paid to make people laugh for a living, and baking health hazards with his daughter. He’s always had dreams he’s striven for, but none of his imagined happiness ever came close to how he feels now, burnt cupcakes and all.

He puts her down on the other end of the countertop from the oven, then hands her a tea towel. He leans in close, like he’s about to tell her something Top Secret, and she leans in eagerly. “If the oven explodes, just, like, fan it away,” he says conspiratorially. Her eyes widen, but she nods firmly, her face settling into a resolute expression. For someone with no biological relation to either of them, Richie thinks, it’s astounding how much she looks like Eddie when she does that.

He heads back to the oven and, with a quick exaggeratedly wide-eyed glance at Gab, he opens the door. Smoke immediately emerges, and Richie’s stuck fanning his hand in front of his face and coughing for a few moments until it dissipates enough for him to actually see. Grabbing a tea towel to cover his hand, he reaches in and pulls out the cupcake tray, dropping it on the stove top with a wince and slamming the oven shut.

“Mission success,” Richie says, giving Gab a thumbs up.

She surveys him and the cupcake tray dubiously. “They look bad,” she says bluntly.

“Okay, Operation Survive The Smoke was a success,” Richie relents. “Operation Cupcake God is still in progress.”

“Operation what?” Richie hears, and turns to face Eddie, who’s surveying the kitchen like he can’t decide if he should laugh or groan.

“Operation Cupcake God,” Gab repeats matter-of-factly. “Daddy’s going to take over the PTA like Darth Vader. ‘Cept I think he shouldn’t cut off Mrs Colby’s arm because she needs it to bake brownies and I love her brownies.”

Richie throws Gab a betrayed look. “How am I meant to overthrow her PTA dictatorship if she can still bake brownies to tempt you with?” he asks her.

“Not by serving these, that’s for sure,” Eddie says, prodding one of the cupcakes with a chopstick—where did he even get that?—and sporting the same dubious expression Gab was before. 

Gab clambers across the kitchen bench, peering at the carnage, and Richie swings her off, anchoring her to his hip. “Don’t get too close,” he warns, “the oven’s still hot.”

She throws him a very unimpressed look, and Eddie laughs. “He’s right, Gab,” Eddie says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “It’d hurt.”

“Is it because we acciden’ly made a volcano?” Gab asks frankly, looking at the carnage with a curious expression. She leans over to poke one, forgoing Eddie’s chopstick and simply using her finger, and lets out a distressed huff when she touches it. “It’s hard.”

“Too bad this wasn’t for science fair,” Richie says. “She’s got a point about the volcano thing.”

Eddie laughs. “What’s Operation Cupcake God for anyway?” he asks. “Casual Thursday afternoon world domination strategies?”

“It’s the class party tomorrow,” Gab informs him, “and everyone always wants to sit by El because her mom makes the best brownies and I want them to sit by me.”

Eddie’s expression doesn’t lose its amused undercurrent, but it softens into fondness, and he reaches for her. She obligingly puts her arms around his neck and Richie hands her to Eddie. “I see how it is,” he says dramatically, “I’m the favourite until he’s home, huh?”

“Yep,” Gab says cheekily, before cackling with laughter when Richie squawks in outrage and proceeds to tickle her sides. Eddie, because he’s stronger and has more control of his limbs than Richie could ever hope to, keeps hold of her even through all her wriggling, though he takes mercy after a few more seconds and moves her out of reach of Richie’s hands.

“So, Operation Cupcake God is purely about Gab’s popularity, hmm?” Eddie asks, giving Richie a knowing expression.

“There may have been some newly-discovered dreams of being her class’ Peak PTA Parent,” Richie admits.

“I thought that might be the case,” Eddie says with a grin. “Why didn’t you ask Ben for help? Or Mike? Mike’s good at directions.”

“I’m good at directions!” Richie protests.

Eddie gives him a flat look.

“Well, I’m better than Bill,” he grumbles.

“Not exactly a winning argument, Rich,” Eddie says dryly.

“Ben’s got, like, an actual job,” Richie says. “And Mike—well, I probably should have called Mike, but like, I didn’t realise we could recreate Chernobyl with a cupcake recipe.”

“I’ve learned to never underestimate you two,” Eddie says, pressing a kiss to Gab’s nose, making her giggle.

“Hilarious,” Richie says, but he can’t help but give them a fond smile. God, he’s so fucking happy. He has been for years now, but it still never fails to take his breath away.

“Yeah, Jason called, he’s giving me your next gig instead,” Eddie says.

“You joke, but he definitely thinks you’re funnier than me,” Richie grumbles, before brightening. “Though the idea of you on stage is amazing.”

Eddie visibly shudders, and Gab gives him a concerned look. “Yeah, for you, because you enjoy my suffering,” Eddie mutters. “I’d rather help you stage this PTA mutiny than that.” He notices Gab’s expression, and nudges her forehead gently with his own. “You and I are happy sticking in the garage, right? Daddy can have all the stage he wants.”

Gab giggles. “Yeah,” she allows, before adding, “‘cept when we’re dancing. We’re way better at it than he is. I wanna be on stage then!”

Richie laughs. “Yeah, okay, rugrat, if I get the call for Dancing With The Stars, I’ll send you in my place,” he tells her. “You’ll be half their height and still the best dancer there.”

“Will I get a trophy?” she asks seriously.

“Absolutely,” Richie says. “All of America will vote for you—well, actually, America and voting systems don’t really have a good track record, but I trust the public to make better decisions with pop culture than politics.”

Gab gives him a blank look, and Eddie stifles a chuckle.

“You’ll get a trophy,” Richie promises, “but first, your dad promised to help us with Operation Cupcake God—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Eddie says, “back it up—when did I agree to that?”

“You said you’d help with the mutiny!” Richie says brightly. “Didn’t he, Gabs?”

Gab nods. “You did,” she says clearly. “I heard you. PTA munity then we hang in the garage.”

“Mutiny,” Eddie corrects gently, then sighs. “All right, fine. Let’s clear all this up, then start again.”

“Why do we need to clean it up? It’s just gonna get messy again,” Richie points out, which he feels is a reasonable objection.

Eddie throws him an incredulous look. Richie’s pretty sure Gab has no idea why that’s the expression he’s choosing, but she mimics it anyway. Double trouble, those two.

“A lot of reasons, like it’s going to be harder to clean later if we leave some of this stuff too long, and hygiene reasons for clean workspaces, but mostly that we only have one cupcake tray,” Eddie says, delivering his final point like the closing remarks of some law drama. Which, Richie has to admit, is kind of apt, because it’s a pretty hard point to argue against.

“Yeah, okay,” Richie says, but he swoops down and kisses Eddie on the side of his head, and then Gab on her forehead.

“What was that for?” Eddie asks, but he’s smiling, and the look in his eyes is so soft that Richie thinks he could die of it.

“Just overwhelmed with love for you, Eds,” he says, and it sounds like a joke, but it’s not, it’s not, and it never has been. Eddie’s always been good at seeing the truth behind the laugh—except when it came to him, but they’re well past that now, thank fuck, and now Richie gets to tell Eddie he loves him every day and not only does Eddie know he means it, but he means it back—and Richie’s glad for it every fucking day.

“Sap,” Eddie teases, but his expression is so fond that Richie thinks his chest might actually split from all the love welling up inside.

“Yeah, yeah, stop trying to distract us from the cleaning,” Richie says instead, ignoring Eddie’s huff of indignant laughter. “C’mon, put down the rugrat, she and I can tackle the volcano if you want to find an actual cupcake recipe that works.”

“You managed to cause this much chaos by following a recipe?” Eddie asks incredulously, but obliges.

“I mean, loosely,” Richie says with a shrug.

“This is what I meant about directions,” Eddie says, but he’s laughing. “Show me the recipe you had, I’ll see whether it looks useful.”

Richie nods his head towards his iPad—discarded on the couch in all the chaos—and turns to Gab. “You ready to scrub like our lives depend on it?” he asks, before adding in a stage-whisper that he’s perfectly aware Eddie can hear, “because they probably do.”

Gab starts giggling uncontrollably, and Richie turns his head to see Eddie pulling the finger at him. Richie’s face stretches into a grin even as he puts his hand over Gab’s eyes.

“Why, I never!” Richie says in his best Southern Belle Voice. “The absolute scandal of it—Gabs, I don’t know if you’ll ever be allowed to look at the world again. I’m simply gobsmacked—and from a gentleman, no less!”

Gab’s full-on cackling now, and Eddie’s laughing too, and everything in Richie’s chest feels light. She laughs at his Voices just like Eddie did when they were kids—though Gab actually thinks they’re good. To be fair, they’ve improved a lot, and Eddie probably had a point when they were younger.

It takes them a few minutes after that, mostly because Eddie and Gab would finally stop laughing but then catch each other’s eyes and set each other off again, but they eventually get the kitchen cleaned and a suitable recipe identified. Fixing the cupcake tray is an absolute mission until Gab has the bright idea to pour boiling water on the charred mess—“Like when we have to get blu-tack out of Saffy’s hair in class,” Gab says sagely, to which Eddie looks absolutely horrified—and it makes the burnt cupcakes soggy enough that they can scoop them into the trash with a spoon.

Even making the cupcakes is a lot easier with Eddie. Richie thinks everything is probably easier with Eddie, though he has to admit that following the recipe properly probably has some effect.

“Okay, sweetheart, what colour icing do you want to do?” Eddie asks.

Gab sticks her tongue out the side of her mouth as she thinks.

“She looks like you when she does that,” Eddie says quietly, and Richie starts.

“I didn’t know I did that,” he admits, and Eddie laughs.

“Only when you’re thinking really hard,” he says, then pushes onto his tiptoes to press a kiss against Richie’s lips. “It’s cute.”

“Cute, cute, cute!” Gab says, and Eddie looks at her in amusement.

“Where’d you hear that one, Gab?” he asks with a grin.

“Daddy says all your photos are cute, cute, cute,” Gab informs him.

Richie shrugs. “What can I say, Gabs? He’s always been so cute.”

“You’re cuter, though,” Eddie says to Gab, and she beams.

“Okay,” she agrees happily. “Can we do pink?”

And maybe Richie’s never going to be the Peak PTA Parent of Ms Divega’s class, or even just be allowed to bake anything without supervision ever again, but that’s okay. Watching Gab squeeze the piping bag too hard and Eddie lick his fingers of all the excess she got on him, Richie thinks he’s already got everything he needs right here.

[animeniacss]

6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Chapter 6 - Wine Clears My Head

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy)

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 4.2k words

Chapter 6: Wine Clears My Head

You followed Weong-Bin to a bench on one of the streets, where he motioned for you to sit down. Reluctantly, you did so, and Weong-Bin sat right beside you. You leaned back against the bench, glancing over at Weong-Bin as he looked around the area. There was a moment of silence, but he turned to you.

           “Hungry?” he asked.

           “No,” you said simply. “What do you want to talk about?” Weong-Bin sighed, running a hand through his hair before he spoke.

           “Can I start by asking what happened to your hands?”

           “I burnt them this morning.”

           “On what?”

           “Coffee. Now can we continue?” Weong-Bin rolled his eyes.

           “You’re so clumsy, Jesus.” He muttered.

           “I’ll leave if you want.”

           “No, no! Okay… You know I meant what I said yesterday, right? About wanting to get back together.” You were hesitant but nodded.

           “I know.”

           “I really do care about you…” he said gently.

           “Well, you have a funny way of showing it sometimes.” You admitted.

           “I know, I know.” He sighed. “I’m not happy with how I act when I get frustrated.” A moment of silence fell over you, and you watched people pass you by. “I only want what’s best for the girls. It’s always been that way.”

           “I know that.” You said simply. “But if you want me back so bad, why did you cheat on me back then??” Weong-Bin took a deep breath.

           “I was upset…. we were going through a lot of stuff with…well…” he cut it off there. “You know.” You nodded in agreement as you rubbed your arm, eyes falling onto your lap. “I just did it. And I regret it.”

           “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that.” You said softly. Weong-Bin let out a deep sigh, and he sounded frustrated through it.

           “…Okay, fair…” he said. You glanced at him, and you couldn’t help to once again think back to the good times, even when those good times became few and far between. Weong-Bin’s job made him wealthy, he showered you and eventually the girls with anything he could think of. You went on trips, you ate at the most expensive places, you went to fabulous parties for his work. It was a nice life and you couldn’t deny any of that. But, with every good memory that flooded into your mind, three negative memories came in and swallowed them whole. Arguments, doubts, name-calling on both ends, affairs, that horribly messy divorce…You didn’t know if you wanted to risk going through that again, hell, if you even could handle it again.

           “There’s a part of me that wants to believe you, Weong-Bin.” You admitted. “I want to be a family again for the girl’s sake but…I can’t. I just can’t.”    

           “…Is it because of Hoseok?” you sighed, shaking your head. “What’s even your relationship with him now?”

           “I don’t….” you paused. “I don’t know. But regardless, he has absolutely nothing to do with my choice.” Weong-Bin didn’t look convinced with your answer. “Besides, it’s like I said, you sprang this on me out of nowhere.”

           “I didn’t want to do that.” He said. “I mean it when I said that I had the entire thing planned out. But after I saw that you and Hoseok reunited, I’ll be honest, it pissed me off and I…. well, I overreacted.”

           “Yeah, I know.” You said simply. Weong-Bin turned to you, and when you turned towards him, he gently took your hands into his.

“I’ve always loved you. That’s never changed. I loved being a father and a husband and working man and….it was all so perfect and I curse myself every day that I fucked it up. I want to make it right.”

           “Weong-Bin…” You mumbled. “I…. I need time to think, at least.” You said. That was it, Weong-Bin had enough. He let go of your hands and turned away from you, staring ahead as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked irritated and inconvenienced.

           “Come on!” He said. “After all that?! I said all the right things, and I mean them!” He said. When he saw your shocked expression, he quickly stopped himself. Coughing into his hand, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I-.”

           “This is exactly why I won’t take you back.” You said simply, standing up. “I believe you meant everything that you have told me, but it’s this yelling and the way you talk to me… I dealt with it for so long, and I can’t do it anymore.” You felt a lump in your throat. “I only tolerate you now because you gave me two kids, but if they weren’t here, I’d never want to hear from you again.” You fixed your bag. “That doesn’t strike me as a good sign to be in a relationship with you.” Weong-Bin sighed, leaning back against the bench.

           “…I’ll change your mind. You’ll remember how happy you were with me, and you know it.” He said simply, looking at you. Hearing that made you chuckle.

           “My point exactly.” You said simply. “Call Min Ja tonight, she’s still hurt you left. I’ll see you Wednesday night…” With that, you made sure to cute the conversation off there and turned around, speed walking to the train station. You didn’t bother looking behind you, as you quickly hurried onto the platform. While you waited for the train, you sent a message to Yuna saying that you would be home soon, and to meet at the apartment.

           When you got to your apartment, Yuna was already inside using her key. She was given an extra just in case of any emergency calls, and you were grateful that you made that decision sooner rather than later. Opening the door to the apartment, you saw Yuna sitting around the coffee table with the girls. The girls were coloring, and Yuna seemed to be getting some studying done.

           “Oh Yuna, you’re a lifesaver.” You sighed, dropping your bag on the floor as the girls looked up.

           “Mama!” Hyo Bin shouted, looking up at you as you walked over to the table. “Look! It’s a kitty!”

           “A kitty, wow.” You hummed. Min Ja walked over to show you her picture as well.

           “Mine is a picture of you!” She said happily. You smiled, taking the picture as you kissed her forehead.

           “Yuna, I’m so sorry this was so sudden.”

           “No, it’s okay.” Yuna assured. “I just hope everything is okay.”

           “Everything is fine.” You assured. “Again, I really appreciate it.” Opening your pocketbook, you pulled out the money you promised and handed it to her. She didn’t want to take it at first, but you reminded her that you hired her to be paid, so she kind of had no choice. With a smile, Yuna stuffed the money into her bag.

           “Mommy, Yuna said she wants to be an idol.” Min Ja said as Yuna got up to get ready.

           “Oh yeah?” You hummed, glancing at the teenage girl. “An idol, hm?”

           “Yeah, I’ve been going to auditions. No luck yet.” She said, chuckling a bit. “There’sauditions coming up for JYP Entertainment, I’m going to try my luck there.”

           “She’s super good, Mommy. I want to be an idol too!” You couldn’t help but chuckle at Min Ja’s enthusiasm.

           “Well I wish you luck, Yuna. You’ll do great~!” You smiled encouragingly. The teenage girl blushed, smiling a bit.

           “Thanks. I’ll be heading out, then.” Yuna said. “Bye girls.” She waved as the girls hurried and gave her a hug, which she happily knelt down to accept it. As you wrangled your girls into your arms, kissing them each, you waved Yuna out the door. Once it was just you and the girls, you lied on your back and groaned, covering your face. It wasn’t long before your girls hopped onto your stomach, making your grunt.

           “Mommy, why were you late?” Min Ja asked.

           “I had to work.”

           “Is that why Yuna picked us up?”

           “Yes.”

           “Oh.” Min Ja looked at Hyo Bin, who snuggled herself onto your chest. You smiled, running a hand through her hair as Min Ja continued to talk, switching the conversation to what she did during her time at daycare. As you listened to her, you heard your phone begin to ring. Sitting up, you scrambled towards your phone and opened it. Weong-Bin was calling. Assuming it was for Min Ja, you answered it.

           “Hello?”

           “Are you home yet?”

           “Yes. I just got in a few minutes ago.”

           “Let me talk to Min Ja.” He said. Without a response, you turned to your daughter; she was looking at you with a curious expression.

           “Min Ja, Daddy is on the phone.” Her eyes lit up as she took the phone into her hands.

           “Hi Daddy!” She said eagerly. You watched as she talked to her father, your hand still going through Hyo Bin’s hair. You could hear Weong-Bin’s voice faintly on the other end, apologizing for leaving the recital, but saying the Min Ja did a wonderful job. Though Min Ja was still upset, talking to her father definitely lifted her outlook on the entire situation. After some time, Min Ja hung up the phone.

           “What did Daddy say?” you asked curiously.

           “He said he was sorry and that he would see us soon.” She nodded. “Then he told me to hang up the phone first. So, I did.” Rolling your eyes, you took the phone back and checked the time. It seemed like now was a good time to get the girls bathed, and then you would start dinner up.

---

           That talk with Weong-Bin was no help. If anything, it made everything a lot worse. If Weong-Bin had kept his cool attitude straight through until the end of the conversation, you had to admit to yourself that you may have been singing a different tune. But you knew that was how he was, being sweet as a button one minute, but it took one thing that he did not want to hear to set him off. He was like a child in that aspect. With this weighing on your shoulders, you couldn’t focus on anything. It was bringing your mood down, it was bringing your energy down…you didn’t feel like yourself, and it was bothering you. When you got like this, it was only up to a few hours you would go through the motions, and then be fine. But now, it had been almost four days. Tonight, the girls were with their father, leaving you alone in the house. You figured this was a good time for some self-care.

           You drew yourself a bath after dinner, sitting in there until your fingers and toes became prunes. The wine was prepared, you had your fluffiest pajamas out and ready to envelop you in their warmth, and Netflix was already pulled up with a variety of shows to watch. Hopefully, this would bring your mood up or at least make you feel less shitty. The bath was helping so far, relaxing your muscles and putting you at ease. So, it was a good start.

           As you finished up your bath and slipped into your pajamas, you fell back onto the couch. After filling a glass of wine, bundling yourself up in a warm blanket, and flipping through Netflix, you allowed the glow of the TV and the warmth of the wine to envelope you.

           “This is fine…” you mumbled to yourself, snuggling deeper into your blanket, and put the wine glass to your lips. “I need alone time.” Alone time left a chance for thoughts to come creeping into your mind.

           I want to be a family again.

           You responded to that thought by taking another drink of your wine.

           I really do care about you.

           Another sip.

           Is it because of Jung Hoseok?

           More.

           I will change your mind. You’ll remember how happy you were with me, and you know it.

           Two more drinks. Before you knew it, your wine bottle was almost done, and so was your head. It was swimming, but no longer from your intrusive thoughts. You had come to realize how you were spoiled with Hoseok visiting you when the girls were with their dad because now that he wasn’t there, you didn’t like the silence of the living room. It was something you had forced yourself to tolerate before, with your family living too far away, Nayeon keeping herself busy with school, and Taehyung’s job taking up a lot of his nights. Jungkook and Seokjin were most likely busy with school and work…That just left you, a sad sack in her fluffy pajamas and getting tipsy on wine while thinking about your love life.

           “I can’t handle this.” You finally said, lifting up your phone. You scrolled through your messages until you fell upon Hobi, who was at the top of your messages list since he was the last person you talked to. You were talking about possibly meeting up for dinner soon, and you had recommended the restaurant that Seokjin had worked at. He was pestering you to attend ever since he got the job, and you were trying your hardest to make time. You hesitated for a moment. The last thing you ever wanted to do was to become dependent on Hoseok. After all, he was a single guy with single friends who were most likely out having a good time. Just because you made the decision to stop partying and going out when you had Min Ja, does not mean everyone else did. Staring at his contact information, you decided one text wouldn’t hurt.

           Hey… (Sent 8:45 p.m.)

           Setting your phone down, you fell back on the couch, nuzzling your head into a pillow. Your eyes stared blankly at the TV from now on, you weren’t too sure at this point what you were watching. The last movie had ended, and something new popped up in the queue. You were almost certain this was something you had seen before, but you had no strength anymore to change it. You didn’t even react at first when you heard your phone buzz underneath your body. Groaning, you shifted a bit, pulling the phone into view to see Hoseok’s name and selfie blaring bright light into your face. He was calling you. Quickly, you answered.

           “Hello?” You groaned. You heard Hoseok hum when he heard the grogginess in your voice.

           “Are you okay?” he asked curiously.

           “Yeah…I just wanted to text you.” Hoseok could notice you were starting to grumble and slur some words. “I was a bit lonely tonight with the girls at their dad's.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You chuckled a bit.

           “You must be buuusssyyyy.” You cooed, your voice slurring as you reached out for more alcohol. “If you weren’t, the first thing out of your mouth with be if you could come by.”

           “Heh, you must be drunk.”

           “Mmmmm, maybe a little.” A giggle escaped your lips. “I’m…sorry I bothered you.”

           “Oh, it’s okay. I was just preparing some stuff for work tomorrow.” He admitted. “It sounds like you need to go to sleep.”

           “I do…” you said softly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep though.”

           “Because you’re drunk on wine?” he teased. Another giggle escaped your lips, and Hoseok couldn’t help but smile.

           “No….” you hummed. “Weong-Bin has been getting into my head again…” Hoseok’s lips almost immediately turned into a frown, and he sat back in his chair. “I don’t think I told you, but at the recital, Weong-Bin said that he wanted us to be a family again.” Hoseok blinked, trying not to give an over the top reaction.

           “What did you say?” he asked curiously.

           “…Well, I told him no….” you said, feeling your throat tighten and your eyes cloud with tears. “But he keeps calling my phone and texting me asking to talk to him. The other day he showed up at my work and worried the hell out of my coworker. He’s been worried for me ever since, the poor kid. I feel so guilty. And the girls have no idea what’s going on, but it’s been like four days and I’ve just been in such a rut. And I know that they know I’m not myself, you know?” A sniffle interrupted your rant, and you felt your throat close up for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. “And I burnt my hands the other day and they still hurt and nothing I’m doing to cheer myself up is working and I-.”

           “Okay, okay.” You heard Hoseok quickly cut you off, and you stopped almost immediately. Your eyes were red and puffy now, and your heart was pounding in your chest. Was he tired of hearing you vent? He was busy after all. “I’m on my way over.”

           “What?” you sat up, sniffling. “N-no, you don’t have to do that. I just wanted to call for a few minutes. Besides, your work-.”

           “I’ll bring my work with me and do it there. It’s just paperwork and applications for the next session. Portable.” You heard the rustling of papers on Hoseok’s end, and you sniffled again. “Just stay by the door and I’ll let you know when I’m there.”

           “I’m sorry…” you hiccupped.

           “Don’t be sorry.” He said gently. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” With that, the two of you hung up. As silence filled the room again, the faint glow of the paused Netflix screen being your only source of light, you stood up off your couch. Dragging yourself to the door, you unlocked the knob and opened the latch, allowing Hoseok easy access when he arrived.

---

           “I’m here.” Hoseok chimed gently, knocking on your door. When he didn’t hear a response, he tried to open the door. He was surprised to find it was unlocked but stepped inside. “Hello?” He hummed, stepping into the apartment. Sliding off his shoes, he closed and locked the door before making his way into the living room. He called your name with a gentle, and worried tone in his voice.

           “I’m on the couch.” You called back, just as Hoseok saw you. You were still curled up, stuck in that one position on the couch that you put yourself in after unlocking the door. He walked over, seeing you on the couch, a quarter-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, and a wine glass that was empty as well.

           “So, you must be really drunk.” Hoseok hummed, lifting up the wine glass and bottle. You glanced up, your eyes following him into the kitchen as much as they would allow before giving you a headache. Your ears told you what your eyes could not, that he dumped the rest of the wine out and put the glass in the sink to be cleaned. “When was the last time I saw you drunk? We were what, 19?” He teased, a smile forming on his face as he walked back to the couch. You pulled your knees up to your chest, allowing some space on the couch for Hoseok to sit. He turned on a table lamp before he sat beside you, and placed all of his work on his lap.

           “Iiiiiiiiii think so?” You slurred, trying your best to think back. “I stopped drinking after I got pregnant.”

           “When did you start again?”

           “After the divorce.” You hummed, and Hoseok responded with a breathy chuckle. “I haven’t been really, really drunk though. Tipsy, sure, but…” you had to stop yourself to groan.  

           “Well that’s what you get for drinking a whole bottle of wine.” He said, flipping his little folder of work open. He was skimming through some applications.

           “I have a lot on my miiiiiind!” You groaned, nuzzling the pillow under your head in defeat. “I know I’m going to regret it tomorrow.” Hoseok smiled a bit. “I’m sorry, I’ll let you do your work.” You hummed.

           Nothing was said after that. Hoseok did his work for a little while, while you silently lied beside him. You had since turned off Netflix since you weren’t even really watching it anyway. There was nothing in particular that you wanted to say to Hoseok right now, just knowing that there was a body next to you in case you needed to speak, made you feel much more at ease than any bath or fluffy pajamas. Hearing him scribble away on his work, while also humming and making simple sounds of intrigue at every application that he looked at was like music to your ears at that moment, and that was most likely what sent you to sleep.

           When Hoseok finished with some of his work, he was starting to get tired too. His eyes wandered to the digital clock on the TV stand, and he saw that it was pushing 11 o’clock. Setting his folder onto the coffee table, he stood up off the couch and looked towards you. He saw you were already sound asleep, your chest lightly rising and falling with every breath that you took. He noticed your body had to be contorted in order to make room for him to sit, and it’s been a few hours, so he was assuming that you were far from comfortable. Kneeling down, he gently reached out and shook your shoulder.

           “Time to wake up.” He cooed, smiling gently as he heard you groan. “Come on, let me take you into bed before I head home.”

           “Don’t goooo, Hobiiii.” You begged, your eyes still half shut as you struggled between slumber and alertness. Hoseok chuckled a bit. “I’m lonely….”

           “I know, but you’ll be up and at work tomorrow, so it’ll be okay. Let’s get you to bed.” He helped sit you upright, and your eyes finally opened all the way, scanning the room with a tired and still drunk expression on your face. Hoseok chuckled. “How cute.” He cooed.

           “Stop.” You pouted, nudging him. “Let’s just go…” you stood up, scratching your hair as you felt the blanket drop back onto the couch. Hoseok led you to the bedroom turning on the light before watching you shuffle to your bed. “Mmmmm….” You groaned, plopping down onto the comfort of your mattress. Nuzzling into the pillow, you felt Hoseok grab the blanket from the end of the bed and toss it over you, falling onto you and covering you in a warm embrace. “I’m sorry…” you mumbled.

           “I told you not to apologize.” You heard Hoseok respond as he stood at the side of your bed. “Now, head to sleep.”

           “Will you stay?” you asked softly, glancing up at him with a pout on your face. Hoseok sighed, putting his hands on his hips. He smiled down at you.

           “Just go to sleep. I’ll hang around for a bit.”

           “What time is it anyway?” you hummed curiously.

           “Almost 11.”

           “Oh…” You sighed, closing your eyes. “It’s so late. I don’t want you to travel in the dark.” Hoseok smiled more, watching your body begin to relax as slumber and your drunk state was beginning to take over you. “Promise you’ll stay. My couch is comfortable.”

           “I know…” He chuckled.

           “My bed is comfortable tooooo~.” You giggled a bit. “But I’m already in it~.” Hoseok felt his cheeks hit up a bit, but he began to laugh, an attempt to cover up any embarrassment he may have been feeling. “Mmmm, but you’ll take the couch. Because you’re good.”            

           “I’ll go get you some water.” He said. You heard him leave the room, and you hummed, nuzzling into your pillow. Your head was still pounding, and you lied down in your bed, gripping the pillow tightly as you tried to keep yourself awake until Hoseok came back.

           When Hoseok returned to your room, water in hand, he tried to make his way in as quietly as he could, in hopes of not waking you if you fell asleep. When he approached your bed, he set the water down on the bedside table and tilted his head to look at you. In a short amount of time since he had exited the room, you had fallen back asleep. This time, instead of being curled up on the couch, you were sprawled out on your bed as you snored the minutes away. He knew now that he wouldn’t be able to wake you up if he tried.

           “Oh, what am I going to do with you, hm?” he hummed, reaching out to brush some hair out of your face. The touch only startled you, but it didn’t wake you up. You just shifted, groaning a bit, but you continued to snore in your dream-induced slumber. Knowing that you were asleep, Hoseok quietly exited the room, closing the door behind him.

           Hoseok found himself in the living room, and it was quiet. He looked around the room, putting his hands behind his head as he tried to think of what to do. He groaned, sitting on the couch as he ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t too sure how long he decided to sit there, his mind glancing back towards your bedroom door from time to time. After what felt like forever, he looked towards the clock and saw that it had only been 45 minutes since you had entered your room and fell asleep.

           “Well, guess there’s no helping it.” He hummed, standing up. He walked to the door, checked that it was locked, before walking to the couch and laying down, tossing the blanket over him, resting on the pillow, and staring at the ceiling until he too, was able to fall asleep.

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[thespearandthecrown]

A Whiskey for Her

AN- Hey fam! So this July/August was insane. Now that September is on its way, I will have a bit of free time to work more on some writing. I am about another 5 or 4 more chapters left for The Sheriff and The Soldier, which, I'm super happy to see nearly completed. Dakota and the gang have been at the back of my mind for the past two months demanding that I finish their story. I've also released the first two chapters of my original story about my gay werewolf dweebs on fiction press. If you wanna check that out, as well as my ko-fi page, take a look at my ‘WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME’ tab on this Tumblr. Without any further adieu, have something that has been a warm-up piece I've been working on for the past three years now. I've rewritten this thing like 800 times. Thanks for your support, I hope this fic finds all of you well <3

Vi hated the 'underground' Piltovian technopunk scene. The venues are usually filled with too drunk mid-forty housewives, whose cheating husbands let them loose for a 'girls night out'. It wasn't like the legendary raves of Zaun, where laws or claims of power meant nothing. Where people could get lost in the flashing lights and pounding beats.

That was where the real fun laid.

The number of people she would bring home after a night of dancing most likely broke some kind of record.

But here?

Void's above the only thing she could pick up is some blubbering wife who wants to get back at her husband.

Too much vengeance and drama for one night.

This, however, wasn't the reason why Vi was in such a despicable joint. The 'boys' from the cop shop wanted to get together and tear up the town. They invited Vi, promising good drinks and plenty of women. Rather than declining, she thought that after the last few busts she deserved a night out.

Sadly, this blew ass.

Her coworkers were long gone, either too drunk to stand or too busy dealing with housewives.

Giving up, she took a great sigh and left the establishment feeling fairly bummed out and in the need of some kind of greasy substance.

She didn't walk far before she came up to her favourite pub, the Brass Gauntlet. Humming to herself, she agreed, instantly craving a Bilgewatian sea bass butty, a specialty that this pub was quite famous for.

The reason why she enjoyed this place came in three parts.

One, the food and drink were good, cheap and usually what she needed. Two, it was a wooden establishment with polished down seats and a lovely smiling old bartender that easily held the feeling of welcome warmth. Three, it was quiet and close to work. Sure the room could be filled with patrons, but it could never get any louder then whispered conversations. Usually, after a long day of hearing the sheriff bitch and complain about Vi's work methods, she would come here to destress and breathe.

Tonight, the basement pub had a small handful of patrons. A group clustered together at the far end chatted quietly amongst themselves, sipping their drinks as they nodded along with whoever was telling a story.

At the other end was a sole individual, huddled in their own booth.

Vi practically fainted as she recognized the individual. Not a day in her life did she ever think Sheriff Caitlyn Deramore would ever step foot in a pub of her own free volition.

With curiosity and a few pints fueling her forward, she made her way to the sheriff's table.

The sheriff had her back to the entrance. Her long raven black hair was tied up into a messy bun, revealing her pale swan-like neck. Her purple petticoat had been removed leaving her in her white blouse that seemed a bit to loose around the neck.

"What is a girl like you, doin' in a place like this?" Vi grinned as she stood at the head of the table to face the sheriff head-on.

Caitlyn quirked an eyebrow at the pinkette. Her brilliant ice blue eyes were accentuated by heavy shadows and wire-rimmed reading glasses. As to what Vi expected, her white blouse had two buttons undone, revealing a bit more of her neck and her collarbone. Vi returned the expression with her own raised eyebrow as she witnessed the rolled-up sleeves revealing the tense forearms of the Sheriff. Her right hand twirled the tumbler of whiskey; the single ice cube gently tapping the glass in the movement.

"Doing your paperwork," Caitlyn replied coldly.

Vi's eyes lowered to the small stack of yellowed sheets. In Caitlyn's left hand was a decorative ink pen.

"Ah, shit, sorry Sheriff. What did I do wrong? I honestly thought I got it right this time. I even got Albert to help me out on this one." Vi admitted sheepishly.

The Sheriff gave a great sigh before she took a swig of her whiskey. "It's alright deputy."

"Why here though? Why not at your office?" Vi asked perplexed.

"Because the bullpen is insanely full with that shimmer bust and the captives will not cease their incessant caterwauling of proclaimed innocence." She muttered lowly, taking another long swig of the amber liquid. "It is very quiet here and the whiskey selection is not terrible."

"Mind if I sit wit' ya? Maybe show me where I went wrong?" Vi asked, both hoping the sheriff will say no and yes.

Caitlyn mulled the thought over, watching the liquid in her glass swirl. With a sigh, she nodded toward the bar. "Get me another round then, deputy."

Vi chuckled. "Not a problem. What's your poison, boss?"

"The dragon's breath whiskey from Freljord. One rock, please." Caitlyn replied as she continued the work set before her.

"Coming right up." Vi turned on her heels With mixed emotions curdling her gut.

She wasn't afraid of Caitlyn, nor hated her. She was just so…uptight. Too serious and work-focused. Usually, the day shift crew would go together to the leather boot, a Piltovian warden stomping ground, with expensive prices to accommodate the large salaries of the trained officers. The shift would all go together, have a pint and unwind before going home.

Every time, Caitlyn would decline.

Out of the six months that Vi had been working with her, she didn't see her cut loose once.

And within a weeks time, she should be working more frequently with Caitlyn once she graduated the progressive and special program they implemented to make sure she was ready for the job.

Frankly, Vi was both dreading and too excited to work with this intense woman.

Maybe this could be the kick starter to get to know each other better.

For Vi to properly understand the sheriff and her insane work ethic.

With a quick nod of thanks and an exchange of coins between her and the bartender, Vi walked back with a pint and a whiskey tumbler.

"You have tomorrow off, right?" Vi asked as she passed the glass to Caitlyn's slim dexterous hands.

"Thank you," Caitlyn nodded. "Yes, I have every Sunday off."

Vi seated herself on the bench opposite of Caitlyn. The pinkette observed the tight-lipped exchange as she flipped to the back of a page and scratched on another. Her jawline became tight with annoyance.

"You seem a bit ticked that you have it off." Vi deduced, taking a mouthful of beer.

Caitlyn snorted. "I am indeed 'ticked'. Albert handles the scheduling and insists that I have that day off, rather than allowing me to work on cases."

"Albert is a good guy. Not to pry or anything but do you ever feel like you could amount to him since you're his replacement?"

The sheriff sighed heavily. "Albert was a great Sheriff. The community loved him, the politicians couldn't get enough of him. However, as much as I hate to say it, I do the job better. He has been a great mentor and has really taught me some valuable lessons with the social aspects of being sheriff. He has trained and trusted me to do better than him, and I'm glad I can fulfill his wishes. I just wish the man would properly retire."

"Well obviously his paperwork reviewing could do better." Vi joked gently.

"In all honesty, you didn't do anything wrong. Your handwriting is just despicable and I need to give the mayor this report so he can show our hard work to the council."

"How rude, Sheriff. It's not like I learned how to properly write like six months ago." Vi grinned teasingly. Then a thought crossed her mind, making her eyebrows furrow in concentration. "Why does the council need to see my report?"

"They are putting a lot of resources to use for you. They want proof that you are actually capable of being my partner, let alone a legal protector of the city." Caitlyn explained.

"So you're helping me look good?"

"In those terms, yes. As much as you seem like you are capable of turning in criminals, they want to see you be an officer, a deputy. Not some loose canon vigilante with no respect for the rules. Sure you may be completing that program, but they want to see your training applied to the real world."

Vi snorted loudly, causing the table on the other side of the bar to take a quick peek behind them. "But that's what I am, Sheriff. I'm not here to slap the wrist of some city hooligans. I'm here to stop the real bad guys. The ones who'd take kids, sell the harmful chemical shit, try to bring terror to good innocent people."

Caitlyn observed as Vi balled her fist.

"I'm glad you have faith in me. I'm glad that you are willing to go the extra mile to help me out. But let them see me for what I want to be." She took a long sip of her brew, then placed it down onto the heavy oak table. She tightened her jaw as she focused on her scarred hands holding the pint glass.

In this, Caitlyn observed the brawler before her. She was in her cracked leather jacket, brooding in the raised lapels. She had freshly shaved the side of her head, showing the dark pink roots. The scent of citrus and mint hit her nose as Vi straightened herself to sit upright. Her violet eyes bore into Caitlyn. They blazed with a determination that the sheriff had started to become quite accustomed to.

She had witnessed this determination a multitude of times in the past six months of Vi working with the precinct. It was normally accompanied by loud snarled curses and frustrated yells. It was smashing through a wall with a broken collarbone, whilst dodging bullets and protecting the hostage in her grasp. It was spitting in the face of political terrorists who threatened to blow the city to smithereens. It was her staying up all night to help prove the innocence of a street orphan who was facing charges of murder. It was her facing these almost impossible tasks with a crooked grin and a crack of her knuckles.

Caitlyn respected this determination, but she only wished the pinkette would give her on-the-fly plans a bit more thought.

"Why do you do this?" The brawler asked. Her voice was stern and serious. "Why put all of this effort when, no matter what, they're going to throw me out."

The sheriff takes a moment to mull over her statement. The tumbler clinks as she lets the ice and whiskey mingle more and more with each twist of her wrist. "Frankly, I am not quite sure, myself." She admits. "Maybe it’s because I know they can sense the potential in you. I understand your skepticism though; the old guard of the city council can be quite misogynistic. It took them a while to have full faith in me."

Their eyes meet for a moment. Caitlyn can see the gears slowly turn in Vi's head and it made the raven-haired woman curious.

Vi regards the sheriff in a new way. It isn't the usual brush off 'we'll deal with the situation as we go' kind of look that the brawler usually gives her.

Caitlyn can't help the small smile that tugs at her lips. "Be careful, Vi. If I didn't know any better it looks like I just earned some respect from you."

That troublesome smirk that drives the sheriff nearly up the wall, spreads through the pinkette's lips easily. "You should slow down on those Dragon Breaths, Sheriff. I think they're causing you to hallucinate."

They share a small chuckle between themselves.

"I think I like this side of you, Sheriff." Vi drawls as she finishes her drink. She signals to the bartender for another round, and the old smiling man nods.

Caitlyn raises an eyebrow, trying her best to not smile. "Don't get too used to it."

[multimetaverse]

Andi Mack 3x12 Review

Ex-Factor was a good ep that dealt with a very important topic though some of the subplots dragged. Let’s dig in!

Positives: 

When Andi Mack is good there’s really no other show like it. Jonah revealing that his family had to declare bankruptcy and lost their house was the kind of moment that the show does so well. It was addressed in an empathetic, understanding way but it wasn’t sugarcoated

The brief moment of Jonah wolfing down the free breakfast Amber gave him really packed a punch in all that it implied. Who knows how many times he’s shown up to school hungry these past couple months; it’’s horrifying but it’s all too real with the single largest group of people living in poverty being children. It’s such a shame that the ratings are so low and that so few people are seeing story lines like this

And I liked the duality we see with Jonah. Yes he’s close to the GHC but he’s not as close to them as they are too each other because he doesn’t have the history they have with him and as they later learned he lives a lot of his life away from them

Amber really shined this ep; she knew exactly what Jonah is going through in a way that no one else can

Buffy would make quite the detective; she had Jonah and Amber dead to rights though she was missing some context

I liked that Bowie said that the Red Rooster was too small of a business to hire Jonah; it’s true to real life where there are no quick and easy solutions to such problems

The amusement park was great; though Disney probably regrets it now that $19.4 million budget was really put to good use

Loved when Celia called her Melinda but wasn’t a fan of anything else related to Miranda and Morgan

I’ll give the show props for the Jamber kiss being a big twist

Peyton’s dad was funny; not a fan of those shorts though

I liked this cold open quite a bit. It was a nice little slice of life of the GHC and that it was filmed in a real middle school art room makes it so much better. And a nice little set up for Andi further exploring her art which we know happens later in 3c

Nice to see the GHC in Andi Shack again, I feel like it’s been so long since they were all there

Bex just deciding to not mail the invites as if not having the wedding won’t drastically change things is very in character; she’s always run from conflict

Negatives:

The Miranda scenes really dragged. Letting Morgan get attached to Bowie when they had only been dating for a little bit was bad parenting but her letting Morgan play her disappearing game like that really crosses a line. At the end it kind of looked like this was part of her plan to get Bowie back which is insane

I found it odd that Bowie never checked behind the stage curtains in the back room and the cut from Bowie looking for Morgan to the other scenes than back to Bowie looking for Morgan made it seem like hours had passed which was sloppy editing

Not a good look to include clips of Jibby in the previously on. They’ve almost certainly already broken up off screen before this ep but the audience really needs to hear that in 3x13 otherwise Jonah looks like a cheating scoundrel 

And for that matter confirmation that Wuffy is officially sunk would be good before Muffy launches again. For a show about 14 year olds there sure are a lot of messy, messy relationships: Jonah liking Andi while dating Amber who was cheating on him, Buffy basically homewrecking Machel to end up with Marty, Jonah breaking up with Libby only to immediately get back with Amber

I do think the wish reveal would have had more impact if the audience had any reminder of it since 3x02. I’m reminded of what that anon told me after 3x09 that the major love interests never go more than 3 eps in a row without appearing; obviously long term story lines can be spread out but going 10 eps without a single mention is just too long especially for a kids show

The Jamber kiss was a good twist but one that I don’t think the audience will like. I have faith in that the show is intending to explore what made their relationship toxic and why it’s not a good idea for them to get back together but it’s understandable at this point that much of what’s left of the audience doesn’t trust the show

Looking Ahead:

I’m not sure that the Beck family endgame is. There’s only 9 eps left and realistically their problems are going to take years to solve. The best place they could end up is them getting an apartment of their own and slowly getting back on their feet. Mrs. Beck at least is still slated to appear and it will be interesting to see what brings the Becks on screen

For that matter I wonder if there’s anything they can do to make Amber’s situation better; she’s in 7 of the remaining 9 eps so there’s time to do something with her

Lot of freaking out in the tag over next ep. Presumably Cyrus wants to say yes to TJ’s idea (I wonder if it is Salt & Pepper or something else) but then tells him he can’t but then Andi tells him he can do it with TJ but it’s too late because TJ decided to do a costume with Kira instead as the dribble shirts look last minute. I’m sure we’ll see the Mount Rushmore costume but maybe the GHC won’t be as happy with their accomplishment as they thought they would be

We know Cyrus and TJ and Kira filmed some scenes earlier that week so that’s probably at the park where we see Cyrus and TJ. Maybe TJ has befriended Kira off screen. Thankfully Raquel always posted when she arrived in and left SLC so we know that after her two days of filming for ep 13 she only filmed one day for ep 15 and then one day for ep 21. So she’s not getting very much screen time or development. 

Is Cyrus going to be sad or jealous when TJ ends up doing the costume with Kira? Maybe but how much attention Disney will allow on Tyrus at this point is an open question. Certainly a part of her role is to be a female chaperone for the Tyrus scenes since Buffy has more important things to do but even in that role there just won’t be much time for her. I’m more interested to see if there will be a look back at some point or some other confirmation of Cyrus’ feelings at least

How the show is going to get from a Jamber kiss in ep 12 to Jonah singing You Girl to Andi in 3x20 I don’t know. It does look like they’ll start on that road next ep; if Amber has to vie for Jonah’s attention it must be with Andi

Nice to see Marty again; I’d imagine we’ll get a Rachel mention. Wild that they’re sinking Machel just 4 eps later

I hope to god that the Bexie drama doesn’t lead to the ep ending on an ‘Um’

It’s very funny to see in part why Josh was so quick to shut down a Tyrus bench kiss in 3x21 because I can only imagine how high people’s hopes would have gotten after this ep. That the show was able to have a Jamber kiss for an end of ep cliff hanger suggests to me that they would have been able to get more kisses approved; if they were only allowed one I really don’t think they would have used it for Jamber. We’ll see if we get a Muffy kiss or another Jandi kiss

[roominthecastle]

I’m in this fb tgp group and there was this post abt how they said satan was her type and if they would end up together and all the antis were giving the usual “no they have a father daughter relationship” and like not a single one of them gave a logical reason other than Ted being nearly twice Kristen’s age like god these antis really embarrass me. (sorry if u get a lot of msgs abt this)

Yeah, sadly this is a thing you can never avoid w/ age gap ‘ships, anon, it will always be there. I personally have no problem w/ fans who are like “I prefer to interpret it this way regardless of what canon says or doesn’t say”. I don’t really understand the appeal but I don’t have to understand and I can certainly respect it; no explanation is required since we are all here to have fun. But I have a problem w/ those who act like this claim is canon-to-be-accepted-fandomwide and try to silence/shame/police/harass everyone who disagrees (which still keeps happening in this fandom in rather manipulative and sometimes straight up offensive, disgusting ways).

Claiming they have a f/d relationship in canon and not tolerating/shaming those who see something else there stems from a common thing among antis:

And they never offer a rundown of their thought process bc there isn’t one involved, really. They look at him and reflexively shove him into a stereotypical, one-note role and ignore actual characterization that clashes w/ it – this in the same fandom that keeps echoing “not a girl” 24/7, so we def don’t suffer from irony deficiency. Janet is not reduced to/defined by her looks (which is a good thing ofc), so why is Michael reduced to/defined by a human skin suit he did not even choose in the first place?

Ted “acts against” his appearance as Michael (if you wanna see him in paternal mode, watch him as D.B. on CSI, the difference is palpable). There is always a clash btw what you expect someone looking like him to be like and what he is truly like in this role, which is one major source of fun (the big S1 twist itself is built on fully subverting this expectation) and contributes to the peculiar complexity of the character. You wipe that away when you try to parent zone him.

Chidi and Janet (even Eleanor) have done more ~~parenting~~ on this show than Michael, and he was often the recipient of it, yet I have yet to see either Chidi or Janet (or Eleanor) being referred to as a “parent figure” w/ the pointed expectation that all “decent fans” should agree. Michael isn’t a centered and sage afterlife elder who guides humans. Not at all. He runs around w/o a clear direction, improvising and often ending up in a bigger mess than he started with. He remains inexperienced, lurches from one puzzling problem to the next, and always needs input/guidance from the others. Even in the latest episode we can see him needing/getting a time-out as an “assistant” & Eleanor using her breakup w/ Chidi as a teachable moment to further educate him in human affairs, then it’s Janet she turns to for answers/advice/consolation. I mean, how much clearer do they have to make this? (But I love how that “Satan is my type” comment riled some antis. Satan shape-shifts throughout the story, so - to me - the only plausible explanation for Eleanor reading Paradise Lost is that Milton’s Satan is also a messy bench who loves drama. He even ends up w/ a lil’ crush on Eve when he marches into Eden to mess w/ her, IIRC, but I digress…)

The S3 finale also highlights Michael’s borderline visceral need for occasional ego strokes bc outside his v limited comfort zone (=chained to a desk, following orders and meticulous, ready-made plans) he is still insecure and panics easily (he was already at a disadvantage and anxious when Gen cut his prep time short). The scene where Eleanor is trying to talk him up by calling him a great leader is a good example: it’s a lie, a quick ego stroke, and it doesn’t hold. Him randomly trying to play parent w/ her (= trying to exert control he never had over her and never will) in an earlier episode is a spin on this song, too. The word “self-appointed” is key there bc it literally means “behaving as if you had a quality/position without actually having it”. Both attempts are about his ego, both fail, both get shut down bc there is nothing to sustain them. A f/d dynamic would mean Michael is above Eleanor but that’s simply not true. But Ted summed this up much better here.

None of the core 6 characters has received positive parental guidance (maybe Chidi is an exception but we have yet to learn more about his backstory), so it’s only natural that now they take turns holding each other up to the best of their respective abilities. They all do it. Chidi teaches and guides. Janet protects and gives answers/stuff they need. Tahani organizes. Jason channels the team spirit. Eleanor thinks on her feet, leads, and lies for them. Michael tries and fails and tries again but he remains the most confused bc while he can read the entirety of the world’s literature in an hour, there are no “superior being shortcuts” to gain the experience and wisdom he clearly lacks. Gathering that takes time and quality interaction w/ the humans. It takes opportunities to fail and learn and experiment within meaningful relationships. These are the exact things he is deprived of in S3, so he is not wiser than he was at the end of S2 and he was no parent figure there either.

Locking him into the parent role (esp opposite Eleanor) bc “he looks old” and acting like that’s the be-all-end-all of canon is willful ignorance at best. I bet these are the same type of ppl who, after watching S2, claimed that he was a mentor when back then he was literally Chidi’s student.I don’t think M/E will be canon but they def do not have a f/d dynamic. They are friends and that’s all the labeling we need canon-wise, imo.

[generalhofferson360]

Crash and Burn.

Dedicated to the amazing @ruffnut-jorgenson , one of my favourite writers and biggest inspirations.

Have some Rufflout angst, cause let’s be real, we love this chaotic duo.

Snotlout ran a hand over his face as he stared down at the now empty mug sitting on the table in front of him. He had really screwed up this time, just like every single time before that. The past few months have been a absolute blur, and honestly, he was exhausted. But he would never tire of chasing after her. She was a force to be reckoned with, of that he was certain.

They had broken up so many times before, in fact Snotlout wouldn’t doubt that they’d set a world record for the most unstable relationship in history. He chuckled at the thought, think back to the world record book he knew was still buried somewhere in the twins’ hut. This time however, was different. It had been a week since the last time Ruff spoke to him, not that he could even remember what they had fought about.

He seemed to be spending all his time trying to forget about her as of late. Snotlout wasn’t a complete muttonhead, despite what the other riders might say, so of course he had apologized, trying to win her back. After all, he may not remember the details, but he was sure her rage was warranted in some capacity. At first, he thought she just needed a few day to calm down, which had always helped in the past. After all, with such diverse and intense personalities, they could sometimes argue about the dumbest of things. 

But she had always come back. After a few days, she would burst into his hut after sundown, telling him how much of an idiot he was before crashing her lips onto his. He sighed, this time however, proved different. She had avoided him around the village, casting him sneering looks each time their paths crossed. Each time he tried to speak, she rolled her eyes, always disappearing back into her hut, which it seemed she seldom left these days.

His friends payed no mind to the feuding couple, blatantly used to the drama by now. After all, none of them had believed the couple would work from the start, and he was just now starting to believe them. What did he expect, really. It’s not like he deserved her, or anyone else, for that matter. He was just an obnoxious idiot, who somehow managed to screw up every good thing that ever happened to him.

He angrily shoved the mug away from himself, wishing that there was anywhere he could go to escape his thoughts. His hut was just a painful memory of late nights, and messy bed sheets. Anywhere else on the island was bound to be crowded by people, leaving him no chance to be by himself. Even now, the vikings were filtering in to the great hall.

Snotlout looked around, his eyes never focusing on anything. Why were they here so late? He had purposely arrived late to dinner, getting there just as the hall was emptying for the night, leaving him and the flicker of the large fire in the dark, empty building.

“Hey Snotlout.” a voice said from behind him. He slowly flicked his gaze up towards them, nodding to his cousin in greeting. It was so much like Hiccup to try and comfort him, after all, he had not only lost Ruffnut, but by association, he had seemingly lost his best friend, her other half, too. But Snotlout didn’t want his pity, right now, all he wanted was to soar on the back of his dragon, until the harsh wind whipped any thought of, well, anything from his mind.

“Glad to see you actually came to the party.” Hiccup added, trying to evoke any positive emotion from the response less viking. Snotlout rolled his eyes, like he had ever missed a party. His heart stung as he thought back, ever since he and Ruff were teenagers, they had gone to every party Berk had to offer, even sneaking in to ones they weren't invited to.

They would dance until their legs felt like they were breaking, and only leave once midnight had long slipped beyond grasp, only to crash at their huts, regretting every second of the past night. He had done it so many times, it had practically become routine to them. And the thought that it might never happened again shook Snotlout to his core.

He cleared his throat, banishing those thoughts from his mind. “What’s the party for?” he asked, noticing Astrid walk up behind Hiccup. He managed to mumble something about… to be honest, all his words were lost on Snotlout, before being dragged onto the dance floor by his betrothed.

Snotlout rolled his eyes, hoping that he and Ruff were never that disgusting in public. Though knowing them, they were probably so much worse as both of them had a nasty habit of never listening to others’ advice. Which was probably what dragged him into this mess in the first place.

His gaze drifted once more to the large oak doors of the building as they were thrown open by a blonde viking with long braided hair. But that wasn’t what caused fury to build up in the pit of Snotlout’s stomach, it was the tall viking at her side, his arm draped loosely around her waist. Snotlout gripped the edge of the rough table he was sitting at, his fingers digging painfully into the wood. She laughed loudly at something he couldn’t hear, but he could feel her satisfied smirk landing on him. He never had been good at hiding his emotions, but even someone who’d never met him could see the jealously written across his face.

He was snapped out of his, what could only be described as rage, by a familiar figure sitting on the bench next to him, forcing his glare away from the pair. “What do you want, Fishface.” Snotlout said coldly, no question in his voice. The last thing he wanted right now was to endure another boring history lesson about something he never remembered the name of.

“Nice to see you too, Snotlout.” Fishlegs said, rolling his eyes slightly. He noticed the downed look on his friend’s face, an figured it could only be the effort of one Ruffnut Eugene Thorston that affected him so badly. “You two were never going to work anyway, better you ended things now than spend the rest of your life regretting your past.” he said, slightly exasperated by the boy’s eccentric nature.

Snotlout’s eyes reverted into a stone glare, “Right, I guess you’d know about failed relationships, wouldn’t you?” he said, referencing his past romance with Heather. Snotlout felt only a slight drop of regret as the words fell from his lips, but knew it was well deserved, after all, they both knew what it was like to feel… Snotlout refused to describe it as heartbroken, that meant that he had let her in. That meant that she had won this cruel game they had been playing for years.

It was like a flame, beautiful and enticing, both daring to get as they close as they can without getting burned, both always backing away from each other when they git to close. Snotlout would’ve almost described it as a fear of sorts, afraid that if he let Ruff to close, she would plunge a dagger through his heart. So much for that, he had given her his heart the first time they had kissed, but it seemed she was still holding hers hostage, taunting him with it before moving it just beyond his grasp.

He turned his attention back to the viking next to him, only to find him long disappeared. A harshly worded insult rang vaguely in the distance, as he foggily recalled they boy storming off what could have been an hour ago. Snotlout no longer had any semblance of time, the world being just a hazy blur to him. The only thing that was clear to him was the girl on the dance floor, her braids swinging wildly as she danced against the stranger, apparently having the time of her life.

Snotlout angrily stood from the table, slamming his knee painfully against the offending object as he did so. He sucked in a sharp breath, before storming towards the exit, no longer able to bear the sight pictured in front of him.

As he stepped out into the night, he glanced down at his injured knee, the pain not having dispersed in the time it took him to navigate through the thick crowd and away from the entire village. He could see a cut, seeping through his pants. Stupid Hiccup, couldn’t even be bothered with keeping the edges of the tables sanded.

Snotlout had survived worse, heck he had caused worse. But he figured he should at least wrap it, the last thing he needed was to be tied to his bed with an infection, the memories that lived there might kill him. He reluctantly reached for his dagger, intending to cut away the soaked fabric with its’ sharp edge.

His hand was met with air, however as he noticed that his weapon was absent from its’ usual place on his belt. He rolled his eyes, knowing that it must have fallen out while he was sitting in the back of the great hall. He should really find some way to attach it more securely, the amount of knives he had lost during training was unreal.

He debated just leaving it, not willing to face the stranger who had seemingly taken his place. That thought stung him more sharply than his dagger ever could, he suddenly felt small, standing outside the large building. She didn’t need him, anytime she wanted to, she could find a replacement, and it seemed she had done just that. He shook the thought from his head, returning every bit of his attention to the matter at hand.

If he left it inside, he had no doubt that Tuff would steal it before he had a chance to return. His friend had a nasty habit of losing all of his own weapons, and typically relied on Snotlout’s carelessness to replenish his stock. He should know by now, it was a game that had been playing since before they could talk. Snotlout reluctantly threw the doors open, keeping his eyes locked on the ground as he made his way back towards his former seat.

However, before he had a chance to retrieve the offending weapon, he heard Ruffnut’s gasp echo across the room. He shook his head, reasoning that he must be imagining it. How could he make out one person’s voice out of the deafening room, hundreds of voices chorused together, yet he still heard her. He dragged his eyes in her direction anyway, unable to ignore it.

What he saw, however, made him forget entirely about the weapon, his sadness, and their breakup all together.

Ruffnut’s lips were locked into a thin line as he cornered her against the wall, she tried angrily to shove him away, her shoulder connecting roughly with his chest. She was unsuccessful, however, as he gripped her wrist, pinning her back against the wall. The back of her helmet collided with the stone, her heart speeding up in her chest for all the wrong reasons.

She narrowed her eyes as him, daring him to make another move. She was Ruffnut Thorston, she could defend herself just as well as any man in this village, and refused to call for anyone’s help. She slipped her free hand behind her back, reaching for her knife, only to be met with an empty sheath.

Of course she had to pick today to lose it in a bet against her brother, she flicked her gaze back up to his dull grey eyes as his lips moved closer to hers. She struggled underneath his grip, Ruffnut was strong, but even she couldn’t escape from the position she was currently held in.

Suddenly, the man was ripped away from her. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding until that very moment. She was glad to see the familiar face and obnoxious helmet that were currently glaring at the man, and if humans could breathe fire as easily as the dragons they once soared on, Snotlout would have killed the man long ago.

Snotlout clenched his fists, “Stay away from my princess.” he hissed through clenched teeth. He didn’t give the man time to respond before his fist connected with his jaw, sending an ear piercing crack echoing through the room. The man stumbled backwards, his hands coming to his face to nurse his injury. He reeled his fist back to respond, before being met by a harsh kick to the stomach.

Ruffnut flashed a satisfied smile as he fell back against the floor. “Wanna try that again?” she said, teasing him with the knowledge that she had won the fight. There had been little action lately, the dragon hunters no longer having any dragons to hunt, and Ruffnut would be glad to show him what hours of training looked like in action.

She let out a breathy laugh as he stumbled towards the exit, clearly intimidated by the two riders. She then turned to Snotlout, her stone cold features softening slightly, but the smile no longer present on her lips. “Why’d you do that?” she asked seriously.

Snotlout looked at her in response as if she had developed the same number of heads as the dragon she shared with her brother. “What? You mean why’d I save you? Y’know most people would just say thank you.” he said, grumbling the latter half of the sentence.

Ruffnut rolled her eyes in response, “Don’t be stupid, you do enough of that already. I could’ve handled it on my own.” Ruff said, but Berk wasn’t exactly known for their excellent liars.

“Because I love you, Ruff!” he practically shouted. She froze in her spot, her worn leather boots seemingly glued to the floor. This was the first chance he’s gotten to speak to her alone all week, and if she wasn’t going to take him back anyway, he might as well speak his mind.

“Even if you don’t feel the same way, even if you never felt that way, I’m not just gonna stand by and let someone hurt you like that. I know I screwed up this time, and well, every time before that. I don’t expect this to fix everything. Just… forget it ever happened. Forget about me.” he said, heavy emotions seeping into his voice. It was for the best, he told himself. He wouldn’t spend the rest of his life being rejected, and he supposed it was better to let her go now than wait for her to destroy the remaining shards of his heart.

It wasn’t the apology he wanted, the one he had reversed in his mind until it was engraved there, but they say everything happens at a specific time, for a specific reason, and in hindsight, he wouldn’t change a word.

The door to Snotlout’s hut slammed shut behind him, the events of the party finally slamming into his mind, much like the door he was not resting against. He had done it, he had lost her for good. He angrily scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, refusing to let out the tears he had held in for so long.

Not a few minutes later, he heard a pounding at his door as someone incessantly slammed their fist against the wood, apparently adamant about attaining his attention. He ignored it at first, brushing it off as his concerned cousin, probably wondering about the events of the night that had most likely resulted in a broken jaw and a nosy crowd. Until he heard a voice that sounded as broken as he felt travel through the door.

“Hey muttonhead, open up.” Ruff said, trying to hide the weakness in her voice. Her heart had yearned for him this past week, but she had refused to be the first to crack, and come apologize to him. Not that she had given him much of a chance to do the same.

“What do you want?” he said, leaning heavily against the door to keep it shut. He couldn’t see her right now, he knew that if he did, his resolve would crumble and he would fall right back to where he started.

She groaned, honestly, how could one viking be that stubborn? Well, it does run in their nature, she supposed. “What you said about lo…” she stopped abruptly, unable to get the word out of her throat, “Y’know. Did you mean it?” No response echoed from the boy currently trying to quell his tears, but no words were needed to draw her answer.

She took a deep breath, preparing to lay a part of her out that not even her twin had seen. “I… am the only single, well, singleish girl on Berk our age. If this is gonna be something… I need to know you aren’t just trying to look down a date.” she said, twisting the end of one of her braids as she spoke quickly. Astrid had everything, brains, athletic skills, beauty, she was the girl every guy dreamed of being with. But Ruffnut… wasn’t that girl. She was obnoxious, loud, and crazy. Why would any guy choose that, unless they had no other choice.

She had been creating reasons to leave ever since their rocky relationship began, never allowing herself to venture too close, fearful she might fall in too deep and set herself up for pain. She was the second choice, and she knew it.

“Ruff, are you crazy?” he started, his tears ceasing as his heart ached for the girl that was just outside his hut at who knows what hour. “I wouldn’t go through all of this… insanity if I was just looking for a date. I love you Ruffnut. I can’t say that I always have, but the more time we spent together, the more I fell for you.” Snotlout said, almost rolling his eyes at how cheesy he sounded. “You’re amazing… you’re gorgeous, you kick butt and… and you’re unapologetically you.”

He threw the door open then, catching Ruff of guard as she scrubbed at her own tear stained cheeks, “You’re such a sap, idiot.” she said, her voice hoarse as she grabbed the front of his tunic, pulling him in to a rough kiss, their mouthes sending any words left unspoken as they crashed against each other.

They may never have the model relationship, they may crash, they may burn, they may fight, but they were like magnets to one another, always crashing back together before they drifted too far apart. And he would spend the rest of his life trying to catch up with the amazing girl in his arms.

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Fate (c.e.) (1/6)

Chapter One- Coincidence

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans x Student!OFC

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: fate (noun): the development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. (verb): be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way. 

Amara is about to start her senior year of college with her newly single best friend, Elizabeth. She goes out one night and meets a handsome stranger, Chris. Sparks fly. Fast forward a week and she finds out Chris is her professor. What happens when she also meets Sebastian, a cute guy from another one of her classes?

Series masterlist

“Do you really have to go out tonight? I was hoping we could watch The Notebook and The Last Song again while shoving tons of junk food in our mouths while I bawl my eyes out at how my perfect love story couldn’t be like Ronnie’s and Will’s or Allie’s and Noah’s.” My poor, heartbroken best friend, Elizabeth complains while watching me straighten my hair.

“We’ve been binge-watching Nicholas Sparks movies for the past three days. I need to rejoin civilization, even if you’re not ready to.” I run the straightener down the last chunk of hair before shutting it off and setting it back down in my bathroom sink. I love her to death and I’ve been as supportive as I possibly can through this break-up, but there’s only so much Nicholas Sparks and junk food that a girl can take before she goes nuts.

“But, I’m shattered.” She whines, leaning against the doorway.

“I know, which is why I’m not forcing you to go out with me. You take as much time as you need to recover. Just remember, we start our senior year of college in a week.” I pat the top of her extremely messy bun and continued applying my liquid foundation.

She sulks, “You’re no fun,” before finally leaving me in peace.

I finish with my foundation before moving to my eyebrows. I fill them in with a deep brown eye shadow to shape my heart-shaped face. I apply a shimmer, cream colored eye shadow to my eyelids to make them pop. I use black eyeliner to draw on my top lid. Last, but not least, I added mascara on my top lashes. I spritz some body spray all over for the finishing touch. I double-check my appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of my door. With a nod of satisfaction, I’m finally ready to go.

“Damn, you look hot Rems. You could turn a gay man, straight.” Elizabeth bellows from the couch, covered in numerous blankets and pillows, already snacking on another pint of ice cream. I feel bad leaving her after her asshole of an ex broke up with her after four years together over text message. Oh, the ass-kicking I wanted to deliver to his doorstep… They started dating in high school, went through the long-distance thing while we went away for school and he stayed in our hometown, and beat the odds until recently when all they’ve been doing is fighting. As her best friend since ninth grade, after our common ex screwed her over, thus us becoming friends, I heard all about it. I was starting to think that maybe they weren’t meant for each other and so were they. It technically was a mutual break-up because they both agreed that their relationship wasn’t working anymore, but he instigated it. Therefore, it’s his fault my best friend has been wallowing in self-pity on the couch in our living room for the past seventy-two hours. You can see why I need a break.

I wink her way while slipping my cross-bodied purse over my shoulder. “That was the plan!” I lean over the back of the couch, placing a quick smooch on her cheek. “Call me if you need anything.” Her shaking her head is the last thing I saw before I shut the door. Freedom at last.

I descend the three flights of stairs to the underground garage where my car sits. I climb in and am on my way to my favorite little bar in town. It‘s a Wednesday night so I knew I could escape there without having to be bothered by too many people. I just needed a getaway. I pull into the parking lot moments later and walk in. The bartender knows me because Lizzie and I have worked here since we started school. I find my seat at the bar and my favorite drink is there waiting for me. I chug it down before slamming the glass back on the bar.

“Bad day?” Robert, the bartender and owner, asks already making another one. He’s owned this place for longer than I’ve been alive. He’s almost like a second dad to both Lizzie and me. Without the over-protectiveness and judgmental attitude. And he’s not like other people his age. He likes today’s music, but nothing pop or rap. If anybody blares that “nonsense” in his bar, they are out. He’s more of the rock and alternative type, which he plays in the bar a.k.a. one of the main reasons I come here.

“Bad week. Liz and Robbie broke up on Sunday.” That was all I needed to say for him to have my favorite food ordered. I look around the bar, not surprised to see only handful of people at the tables. Wednesday is a slow night, which is the way I like it. I can hear the music over the speakers better that way instead of everybody’s constant, loud chatter.

I decide to go easy on my second drink now that I got the first one out of the way. I don’t want to get hammered tonight. That isn’t the reason for this outing. I check my phone to see if Lizzie sent me anything only to find nothing, thankfully. I put it back in my purse just as my food is placed in front of me. Deep-fried green beans with ranch dressing and a bacon cheeseburger with pickles, ketchup, and crunchy peanut butter. The chef here calls it the Skippy burger for obvious reasons. It’s the most amazing burger I’ve ever tasted. I will never order anything else from here, ever.

Well after I had inhaled my food  like the lady that I am, I continue to sit at the bar and listen to the music. I take out a small notebook from my purse and continue writing in a book I was writing. I also like coming here because it’s a great place to get my creative juices flowing. It’s basically what I would be doing at my own apartment, the music is just louder and there’s more people around. I was just pausing to think of what to write next, when someone speaks to me.

“Whatchya writin’?”

I look to see who that deep, baritone voice came from. To my right is probably the most beautiful man I had ever seen sitting a couple seats down from me. His golden brown hair is slicked back. His eyes are a light color, but he’s too far away to decipher exactly what color they were. He’s fair skinned and not a blemish in site. He’s smirking at me with beautiful full lips and straight white teeth. He has facial hair, which I normally find revolting, that was hiding an incredible jawline, only added to his sexy factor. And that’s only his face. He’s built. His torso is long and defined. He has broad, muscular shoulders that stretched his poor t-shirt he wore. His arms are thick, too. He could easily bench me more than enough times- and I’m not small by any means. His biceps make the sleeves of his white, short sleeve, V-neck stretch just enough to show how big they truly were. From what I could tell, he looks to be tall- one of his feet is resting easily on the floor while sitting at the bar stool. I can’t touch the floor if I tried. He’s just gorgeous. Plain and simple. And he’s talking to me.

“I’m sorry for prying. You were so intensely writing, I had to ask.” He sends me an apologetic smile which nearly knocked me off this stool. Dear Lord…

Do I be snarky and say mind your own damn business? Or do I tell him the truth about what I’m writing? He seems like a decent guy just from the few sentences he’s thrown my way. And he’s hot. Way too hot to be a bitch to.

“Just jotting down all of the ways I could kill every single person in the bar and make it look like an accident.” So, I decide to go the sarcastic route. At least I had hoped that I came across as cynical and not sound like a total lunatic that needs to be committed. According to the sweet sound of his laughter, I was successful.

“Oh yeah? What are some of those ways?” He inquires, angling his body more towards me preparing for my answer.

I fake a gasp, pressing my notebook to my chest, hiding the “contents” from any prying eyes. “A sociopath never reveals their methods.” His laughter continues, his hand is thrown over his heart, making my heart feel like it was soaring. Don’t ask me why. 

“Is that your spin on ‘magicians never reveal their secrets’?” His eyes sparkle even in this horrible lighting. How is that even possible?

“Maybe,” I shrug. He’s right though. I guess that was my twisted take on that saying. I just thought it would work in this situation if I tweaked it to fit. 

The beautiful stranger moves to the chair right next to mine. “I’m Chris.” He holds his rather large hand out towards me.

I place my hand in his. His fingers curl around my hand, dwarfing it. “Amara.” Amara Remington. Elizabeth calls me Remi and she’s the only one allowed to. I call her Lizzie and I’m the only one allowed to as well. It’s a great friendship we have going here.

“Well Amara, what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a bar on a Wednesday night?” He takes another sip from his drink. Every move he makes is so fluid and natural… Is this guy even real?

“It’s the slowest night of the week. I like to come here for the food and to listen to the music.” If I was going to get anywhere with this guy, friend drama is not something to bring up right away. I most definitely want to see if this will go anywhere. Even if it’s just for a night.

“I could tell by the way you inhaled that burger. It must have been good.” He chuckles while I most certainly did not. Thank God for the poor lighting in here, I must have turned either beat red from embarrassment or stark white from mortification. That burger was so messy. I was licking my fingers right and left and wiping my face after every single bite. I must have looked like a pig! And he still called me beautiful?

“I can’t believe you saw that and are still wanting to talk to me.” I want the floor to turn into a black hole and swallow me up. How did I not see him before? I for sure would have noticed him when I sat down. I must have been so engrossed in my food that I was oblivious to my surroundings. Damn that delicious burger.

“It was endearing, actually,” He admits.

Is he nuts? Or just blind? “How could that have possibly been ‘endearing’?”

“I like a girl who isn’t afraid to make a mess while eating and who doesn’t care about counting calories and all that weird stuff that people do nowadays.” He shrugs like it was no big deal. “So, I was wondering if you weren’t too full from dinner, maybe we could go get some dessert? I saw this little bakery down the street that I’d like to try out.”

Was he asking me out? If so, jeez he’s forward. But hey, I’m not complaining. I know exactly which bakery he’s talking about and it’s phenomenal. That’s where Liz and I go for our comfort food during our time of the month. It’s remarkable. I could go for one of their fluffy cupcakes. I happily agreed, left some cash on the bar, and we walked out.

When we were walking down the sidewalk, my previous assumption about him was true. He’s taller than me. I have to look up at him in order to talk to him, making him at least 6’0”. I found out he’s from Boston. He just moved here to start a new job. He has two sisters and one brother. His favorite sport is football, he’s a diehard Patriots fan. He loves Disney as much as an adult as he did as a child. He was passionate about space and politics, going off on an elongated tangent on our current Commander-in-Chief. He even had to interrupt himself when he went on his rant. I didn’t mind watching him. One of my favorite things is watching someone talk about something they’re passionate about.

We finally made it to the bakery and each got a treat for each other that we wanted the other person to try. I had him get a triple chocolate brownie to be safe, and he had me get a piece of key lime pie since I had never had it before. We stroll down the block to the small park that was completely empty. We eat our desserts and just talk about random things. He'd ask me questions and vice versa. He’s so easy to talk to. I feel like I had known him for years instead of an hour.

After we're done eating, we decide to hit the swings. We have a contest to see who could get the highest the fastest. I welcome the challenge even if I knew I was going to lose. My shorter legs are at my disadvantage here. Establishing that he was the winner, he decides to be reckless and jump off when he got to the highest he could. He almost made the perfect landing, but he stumbled a little and wound up falling to the ground. I laugh so hard, I have to clutch my stomach at his silliness while I tried to slow myself down.

When I’m low enough to where I could get off safely, he’s walking towards me, looking determined. He doesn’t stop, even when I almost hit him. He calmly grabs the cold chains and keeps going until I’m well off the ground and our faces are impossibly close. It's the first time since I met him that I felt nervous. I tighten my grip on the chains and lock my ankles together underneath the seat. His eyes flicker to my lips for a split second before speaking.

He grunts, “One last question.” All I could do was nod, so he continues, “Do you believe in coincidences?”

I take a second to think about the concept of “coincidences.” I do believe everything happens for a reason. There was a reason why I decided to come out tonight instead of any other night. There was a reason why I came to this bar at the time I did and had the food I did because that caught his attention. And there’s a reason why I had the ideas I absolutely had to write down, which got him to talk to me. Same thing goes for him. Every decision we’ve made up until now has brought us here in this park, on this swing, in this position. So, do I think that it’s a coincidence that we were brought together tonight?

“Yes.”

In a second, his lips lock with mine. I respond quickly, hands pulling his face even closer as my legs wrap around his waist as his hands support my backside. As we deepen the kiss, he lays us down onto the rocks with me straddling him. Our lips move in sync as we both deepen the kiss. His lips are everything I thought they would be: soft and plump. His kisses are gentle, but full of passion. I feel how passionate he was all the way down to my toes. One thing I liked was he never pushed his tongue in my mouth. I hate when people automatically thrust their tongue in someone else’s mouth as soon as their lips make contact.

His hands wander up my back and tangle into my hair. Mine wander down to his pecks and around his shoulders, which are incredibly firm. I’ve never been so close with a guy this fast. But, despite everything inside telling me not to, it feels… right. Every fiber of my being tells me this is right, that I was supposed to be here in this moment with him, that I was meant to be with him…Which is why I need to stop this now.

I try to pull away, but every time I do, he would just bring his lips back to mine making me not want to leave. I knew I had to though before this went any further. I gently push on his chest so I can sit up, separating our lips. “Oh God, I need to leave now.” I get off of him and start to walk away.

“Where ya goin’?” He calls after me, sitting up on his elbows now.

“Home before we both do something we regret. I had a great time tonight. Hope your new job goes well!” I jog down the road, back to the bar to obtain my car. 

I make my way home resisting the urge to let the butterflies in my stomach influence the smile that wants to form on my face. Lizzie is not going to believe the story I’m about to tell her… I’m not even sure I believe it. Did that really happen or did I imagine it? When I park my car in the underground ramp, I take out my notebook to see if I had written it, thinking it happened. But nothing I wrote tonight reflected the events that happened in real life. But how could one human being be so perfect? He was the easiest person to talk to, made me feel so at ease with him, and incredibly handsome. And the way he made me feel? It was indescribable. Butterflies in my stomach when he looked at me, palms sweating when he was close to me, the sparks I felt when he touched me… Chris. Such a simple name for the perfect guy.

I climb up the stairs back to the apartment. I close the door and lean against it, still in a trance. Now that I'm in the privacy of my own home, the cheek-hurting smile that was begging to come out makes its appearance.

“You’re back earlier than I expected.” Elizabeth was talking while she was in the kitchen, but when she comes into the living room, she gasps. “You totally met a guy!!” She shrieks after seeing my face. “Tell me everything! And I mean every detail. Don’t leave anything out!” She drags me to the couch, forcing me to sit down.

So, I do tell her everything. From the second I got to the bar, to coming home; from every thought I’ve had to everything I’ve felt. She squeals through the entire story, expressing her excitement for me. She then asks me when I was going to see him again. 

Every thought I’ve had within the past couple hours is gone. I never got his number, where his new job is, or even his last name. There’s no way I can get into contact with him. I sigh falling over onto my best friend’s lap. “Never,” I groan.

“What do you mean?”

“I have no way to contact him or know where to find him. I never got his phone number or his last name.” I groan again wanting to crawl into a ball and mourn the loss of the love I will never have with this guy.

“There’s more ice cream in the freezer.”

“I’ll get a spoon.”

For the last week of freedom we had, we wallow in pity on the couch. The thoughts of Chris are always on my mind. His smile, his laugh, his kisses… Ugh why didn’t I at least get his number? I wonder if he feels the same way about it or if he’s completely forgotten all about me by now. That thought depressed me even more.

We watch every rom-com we can find and consume copious amounts of ice cream in this last week. So, when the first day of school comes, we reluctantly peel our butts off the couch to rejoin civilization. We shower and get ready in our rooms. I straighten my hair before putting half of it up into a bun, and do my make-up with eyeliner and mascara, and fill in my eyebrows. I brush my teeth and wait for Liz to be done so we can leave. Our classes start at the same time so we decided beforehand to ride together.

Once we got to campus, we agree to meet up for lunch at one after our first couple classes. I head to my first class, English 5116: Advanced Writing of Fiction. It’s one of my final classes for my major in English with a concentration on Creative Writing before I start my internship next semester. I heard from past students that it’s a hard class, but that was with the old professor. Said professor retired last year, so they had to hire a new one. There wasn’t any news of who the new professor is or his or her teaching style, so this should be interesting.

I find the lecture room with plenty of time to spare. This lecture room is like any other. It’s smaller than normal ones on campus; there are only five rows of ten seats to each row, all curved so it formed a semi-circle around the room. There’s a wooden podium off to the right side of the front and a huge projector screen just waiting for something to appear on the screen. I descend the stairs, and choose a seat close to the front. I found out during my freshman year that I learn better when I’m in the first couple rows. I take out the designated notebook for the class, write the date on the top line, and wait.

There’s still ten minutes ‘til the class starts so I also take out my story and see if I could continue where I left off. More and more people pile in as it gets closer to start time. There isn’t any sign of the professor yet. I hope that he or she is late. I think I have where I want my characters to go next and I don’t want to lose my train of thought.

But then everyone hears the bang of the door closing, startling everyone. “Alright, everyone. Welcome to Advanced Writing of Fiction. I am Mr. Evans, the professor for this course. You may call me Mr. E. or Evans. I will answer to either.” He trots down the stairs, handing stacks of papers to the first person in each row until he gets to the front of the room. My heart does that leaping thing just listening to him speak. What the hell is wrong with me? I look up to see why that happened. A gasp escapes and I think my heart stops completely. 

Chris? The guy I met in the bar was standing at the front of my classroom. The guy I had an amazing make out session with is my professor. Oh boy…

He keeps talking about something I couldn’t tell you about because my mind went into shock. He looked so different in a tight, white button-up with a black tie, black slacks and shiny black dress shoes. His hair is done the exact same way it was in the bar. His facial hair looked shorter than it was before. But it was his eyes that looked the most different. In the bar, they looked vibrant and full of life. Now, they look flat and uninviting. I wanted to know why.

“I will not have a formal sign-in sheet,” an overwhelming relief falls over the entire room. “But, there will be a daily written submission due at the end of class every day.” Just like that, said relief was gone. I didn’t mind really. I love making short stories. “The submissions can be from something you’re currently working on, or something you make up on the fly. It doesn’t matter to me. But please, a five-page maximum. I do have a life outside this class.” Chuckles peppered the room. 

“I am a little bit old fashioned, so you will have to physically turn it in to me. I will be copying them and handing them back to you at the beginning of each class. I will be keeping a profile of said copied excerpts until the end of the semester. I will meet with each of you three times this semester. First meeting will be to get to know you and your writing style. Second will be at mid-terms to check-up and see how your works have improved throughout the first half and see what there is left to improve on. And the last meeting will be a final assessment of how you have advanced in the writing of fiction.” His pun is cleverly placed and very funny. I wonder how many times he practiced that one at home.

“Now, there will be no formal tests.” Again, relief washed over the room. “The excerpts that you write are your tests to see if you are grasping the concept of what I am teaching you. If you need extra help, my office hours are on the syllabus. Feel free to make an appointment during those hours and I will happily help you with whatever you need.”

“He can help me with something else.” I hear a girl whisper suggestively in the row behind me. I roll my eyes. Does she really think he’s going to be anything more than her professor?

“Since today is the first day of class, how about we go around the room and introduce ourselves? Say your name, major, and what kinds of things you like to write about.” He pulls a chair out from behind the podium, placing it in the middle of the front, sitting on it backwards. He starts in the back row so I was safe until the end since I'm the first person in the front row. Everyone’s answers to what major they were and what kinds of things they liked to write about were all different. From aspiring authors to journalists and poems to novels; so many different combinations.

As it got closer to me, the more nervous I got. Would he recognize me? How will be react to seeing me again and realizing he made out with one of his students? Will he freak? No, probably not. He most likely wouldn’t want anyone to know what occurred between us. Would he request that I transfer out of this class because it’d be too weird? I don’t know what I would do if he did. I need this class to graduate this spring. I might have to beg and plead for him to let me stay if that’s the case.

When it got to me, I try not to look at him for fear of seeing his real reaction. But I had to know what it was. When our eyes lock, nothing happens. His expression never falters. No sign of recognition, fear, shock- nothing. That should be a good thing, right? I can stay in this class and not be weird… But then why does my heart hurt?

“I’m Amara. I’m an English major with a concentration on Creative Writing. And I mostly write novels.”

“What kind of novels?” He pries for more.

“Romance, mostly. Some fantasy. Just depends on my mood,” I shrug, “but they’re definitely all fiction.”

“Well I look forward to reading every one of your submissions.” He concludes, turning back to the rest of the class. “Now, with the rest of the time we have, which is about an hour, I want you to write whatever you want to write about. Your first day, the greatest party you’ve ever been to, the love of your life, anything you want. Just keep it clean, please. This will give me an idea of what I’m dealing with this semester.” He stands up from the chair. “When you’re done, you can leave.” He goes back behind the podium and just stands watch.

I look down at my notebook and nothing. Nothing came out. Zero ideas. Nada. Zilch. El zippo. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I guess I could jot down something from the story I have with me… But that’s personal. I don’t know if I want him to read something so personal to me. Not yet anyway.

I glance back up at him, only to find him staring back at me. I observe the classroom to see everyone writing furiously in their own notebooks.  When I bring my eyes back to him, he's holding up a piece of paper. It reads: “Class after this?” I shake my head. He sets the paper back down, scribbling something else down. “Be the last one out” was the next thing he said.

Oh gosh, he does recognize me. And he wants me to stay after. My heart started racing just thinking of what he might want to say to me… I nod once before focusing back to my still blank paper. What could I possibly write about that will get my mind off what’s going to happen after class? I could write about how I felt when my childhood cat died. That’s still personal, but less personal than my novels. It was decided then.

An hour and three and a half pages later, I break out of my trance to see I was the last person still working. Chris is still behind the podium, watching me with what looked like amazement. “You okay?” He asks, breaking the silence. It was in that moment that I realized I had tears running down my face. I immediately run my hands over my face, trying to erase all the wetness on my cheeks and chin. It’s been four years since my cat died and I still get emotional about it when I talk or think about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a sore subject.” I jot down my name at the top before tearing out the pages.

“You had a pretty intense look for the entire time you were writing again.” He smirks at me again. I pack up my stuff then bring my submission over to him. He continues, “You always have that look when you’re writing. I’ve never seen someone so engrossed in their work before.”

“You’ll see why when you read it.” I hand it to him reluctantly.

“You know, I knew it was you the second I saw you.” He blurts after a silent moment. “I was wondering if I was ever going to see you again, and now here you are.”

“Your student.”

“My... student.” He repeats slowly.

“What are we gonna do? I can drop out of your class, if it’d be too weird.”

“Why would it be weird? We’re both adults. We can be rational about it. It was before I knew you were my student. No harm, no foul.” He shrugs, brushing it off as if it were no big deal at all.

“So, we’re okay?” I ask confused by how calm and nonchalant he was about everything. Maybe he didn’t care about me, like I cared about him…

“Absolutely. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He grabs the rest of the papers and started up the stairs. I follow when he disappeared from the room.

He can forget everything just like that? He has been on my mind every second of the day since that night. How could I feel so much for him and him feel nothing? He was like a completely different person from when I saw him last. The Chris I met was passionate, careless, and full of life whereas this one was cold and stoic. I guess being in his class will be easier than I originally thought…

I shake it off and went to find Lizzie. She is going to die when I tell her everything.

Chapter Two- Fortune

Permanent taglist: @elusive-beauty @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @naniky @drakesfiance @fantasy-is-my-reality

[zhara-liara-yui]

Zhara in High School

Haha so the other day I saw that @bloodsworn-marshal drew Pipin as a school boy an I also noticed that a lot of people were drawing their OCs as high school students. I can’t draw, so I decided to write! I got this idea after I saw Bloodsworn’s drawing. 

I kind of have a deep dark secret that I’ve sort of shipped my miqo’te Zhara and Pipin together but I kind of kept it to myself because some people get grossed out over OC x Canon pairings. But I decided to write Pipin as her love interest and have Nanamo be her BFF, because I think Nanamo would be awesome as a BFF. I plan to write this in parts so if you like cringtastic high school AUs, then by all means go ahead and take a read! Part 1 will be below the cut.

The school courtyard was lit up beautifully and it was filled with flowers, trimmed bushes, and the garden pathways were kept neat and clean of leaves and other brush, unlike how it normally was during a typical school day.

“Nanamo did an excellent job with the prom decorations this year.” Zhara said to herself as she admired a rose bush with pink flowers, which matched the shade of pink of her long, flowy prom dress. As she was distracted by the flower, she heard a familiar, handsome voice beside her.

“Yes, the courtyard is quite beautiful tonight.” Zhara looked down to where the voice was. It was none other than Pipin Tarupin himself! He was looking sharp with his black tux with a pink tie to match Zhara’s dress… she completely spaced out, Pipin was her prom date! She couldn’t believe it, how could a girl like her snag such an adonis of a man? Zhara stood frozen in place, speechless of her predicament. The fur on her tail and the backs of her feline ears stood up.

Pipin gave her a warm chuckle and simply smiled up at her. “Everything alright dear?” Zhara attempted to snap back into focus, trying her best to be as normal and cool around him as she could. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine just admiring and smelling the roses.” she laughed nervously as Pipin gave the flower a quick inspection. “Yes… but not quite as gorgeous as you.” Pipin looked up into her eyes. His dark grey orbs sparkled under the blanket of stars up in the night sky. Pipin then took her hands, attempting to pull her down as if gesturing her to kneel down, to be on his level. Zhara did as he wanted, and knelt down on her knees next to him.

“Zhara… I just want to tell you that… I think I love you.” At Pipin’s confession, Zhara blushed furiously, her cheeks now becoming a bright red! “I love you too Pipin!” The couple leaned in for a kiss, her lips were getting ever so close to Pipin’s…

Zhara’s brother, Gunduin crossed his arms and sighed while looking down at his sister, who was sleeping peacefully in her bed. It was clear that she was having a happy dream as she giggled in her sleep and then attempted to kiss the air. She then groggily spoke “Pipin… your lips taste like strawberries…” Gunduin covered his face with his palm before finally attempting to wake the teenaged girl up by gently shaking her.

“Zhara? Zhara wake up! You got school today, chop chop!” Zhara groaned as she finally opened her eyes. Gunduin was tall and muscular. He towered over her in his work uniform which consisted of black pants and a shirt from the local diner in town called Cid’s. “The pancakes are almost ready, we need to be on time, I don’t want to be late to work.” Gunduin would lean down to kiss his sister on the forehead before walking out of her room.

She sat up in her bed. Her brown hair was messy and in knots. She rubbed her eyes before scooting to sit on the edge of her bed. She formed a drowsy smile as she stood up and stretched her arms. “... That was a good dream..” she gave a wistful sigh before hearing the notification sound on her phone go off. She walked over to her nightstand and checked her phone.. It was a text from her BFF Nanamo! Well… she was close to all of her friends but her and Nanamo had been close since they were kids. Zhara quickly tapped on the text to open it.

“Hey, I have good news! Try to get to school early, we gotta talk.”

Zhara stared at the text for awhile, wondering what Nanamo meant. She quickly typed back.

“Why can’t you just tell me now?”

She waited a few seconds, but ultimately just got a wink emoji from her friend. That was not a very satisfying answer! She figured she wasn’t going to get any more information out of Nanamo so she began to get ready first with a shower, and then with putting on her stuffy uniform. Zhara attended a fancy private school called Eorzea Prep. Her parents went there, and her brother went there so automatically her family wanted her to go there. It wasn’t a bad school, it actually was really nice. She had her friends, the teachers were alright, and he was there - Pipin Tarupin, the hottest guy in school at least according to Zhara.

Her friends Lyse and Alisae thought she was crazy for liking a popular guy who was probably too involved in his sports and popularity to ever notice her, but that didn’t stop her. She was head over heels for him, but she had problems confessing to him. First off, Zhara was a shy and awkward girl. She had been terrified to ask him out. Secondly, one girl stood in her way - Ulala Ula.

Ulala was a member of the popular Songbirds and Pipin’s current girlfriend! They were the idol club of the school and the student body practically worshipped them. Along with Ulala was Masha and Narumi who were both known for their graceful dancing and beautiful singing. As a lover of music and singing herself, Zhara dreamed of being apart of the Songbirds but she had accepted that she would never have an opportunity to be apart of it. The Songbirds were for the elite only, they’d never accept a girl like her, or so she thought. But she was fine with that, and enjoyed singing in the school choir instead.

Once Zhara was dressed and ready to go she headed downstairs to have breakfast with her brother. She sat at the table and began to dig into her pancakes as Gunduin formed a shitastic grin on his face and began to ask her questions.

“So Zhara, what were you dreaming about?” Zhara raised an eyebrow at him as she ate quickly. She had to think up a lie, fast!

“Oh I was dreaming about… eating at Cid’s. I was drinking a milkshake. Their milkshakes are the best! I’m happy we get a discount since you work there.” Zhara smiled as she continued eating. Gunduin tilted his head.

“Really? Were you having a milkshake with someone named Pipin? I think you said his lips tasted like strawberries.” Zhara had a flustered look on her face as it turned a bright red.

“I uh.. I was saying that the -milkshake- tasted like strawberries because y’know.. I was having a strawberry milkshake!” Gunduin chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s okay kiddo, sorry for embarrassing you. It’s okay to have a crush, I had a crush on a girl once.” Zhara tilted her head. “And how did that go?”

“Oh it went terribly. She flat out rejected me. I was pretty much single throughout high school, still am. Just haven’t found the one yet.” Gunduin picked up his and Zhara’s empty plates and put them in the sink.

“But I’m sure I will someday, and you will too, maybe even with this Pipin guy… just don’t let him distract you from your studies okay? Your grades are important for getting into a good college.” Zhara smiled as she stood up from the table.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” She swung her backpack on her back before following Gunduin to his car. It wasn’t the best car ever, and it had a few fender benders in the past, but it at least got them from point A to point B. Once they were in the vehicle Gunduin started the car and drove toward Eorzea Prep. Once they were in front of the school Zhara waved goodbye to her brother and stepped out of the car, and then watched Gunny drive off to his workplace at the diner.

Zhara did what Nanamo asked of her, she was early. There were only a few kids near the doors waiting to go inside. She walked around, scanning the grounds for her friends until she eventually found them sitting at a bench all wearing the same uniform as her.

“Heey! You made it. C’mon sit down.” Nanamo said as Alisae scooted over to make room on the bench for Zhara while Lyse stood next to the group. Zhara took a seat as she looked over her friends.

“So how are you guys doing?” Zhara asked. Alisae shrugged. “Not too bad I suppose.” she groaned and rolled her eyes. “My brother was working on his lines last night to audition for the school musical that’s coming up. He’s been so gung ho about it for the past week.” Lyse grinned. “Well your brother is kind of a drama queen, I’m glad he’s found his calling.”

“Yeah… you’re lucky that your sister Yda is away at college.” Alisae said as Lyse shrugged. “Well, at least you’ll get to escape your brother once you’re in college.” Alisae sighed. “I suppose so yeah.”

Zhara listened to the conversation for awhile before chiming in. “So Nanamo, that text you sent me this morning, what was that about?” Nanamo giggled. “Oh that… well I have good news for you Zhara. Ulala and Pipin are broken up!” All of the girls gasped in unison at the news.

“That surprises me, yet it doesn’t. I would think Ulala would be hard to date, being so high maintenance.” Lyse said as she tapped her chin. “I wonder why they split.” Nanamo shrugged. “I don’t really know the details.” Nanamo’s smile brightened. “But that means Zhara has a chance to be with Pipin now!” Alisae raised an eyebrow at the proposition. “Are you sure that it’s a good idea for Zhara to pursue him? He’s just a shallow jock.”

Nanamo shook her head. “I would have to disagree with that. I kind of know Pipin, especially since we’re both in student council together. He’s a really nice guy. I think he overworks himself, especially in his academics and his football but he’s a good guy.”

Alisae shrugged. “Well okay, as long as you say so Nanamo I trust what you say…” Alisae paused in thought.

“Wait.. Zhara hasn’t said anything about the matter yet!” At this point Zhara was just frozen in her seat as she was trying to process the news. Alisae began to run a hand in front of her face.

“Zhara? Zhara are you there?” Zhara blinked back into focus and shook her head.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. I’m just… surprised. And as far as trying to pursue him… you girls are silly, he’d never go for someone like me.”

Lyse frowned as Zhara spoke. “Don’t say that Zhara, you’re a very pretty girl who’s very talented, especially with music!” Zhara smiled. “Well thank you Lyse.”

Nanamo then suddenly spoke. “Also, that isn’t the only news - the Songbirds are now looking for a fourth member.” This perplexed the girls even more.

“Why do they want a fourth member, aren’t they good with just three?” Zhara asked. Nanamo just shrugged.

“I don’t know, like I said, I don’t know the details. But they’re going to have an audition for a new girl on Friday just after school!” Zhara blinked in surprise.

“That… that’s tomorrow! I um.. I don’t have anything to audition with.” Alisae tilted her head. “You sing that hit song of the Songbirds all the time… what’s it called again?”

“Just the Way You Are.” Lyse said. Alisae nodded. “Yes, that one, sing that.” Zhara nodded thoughtfully.

“Well okay, I’ll do it.” Zhara said with a confident air in her voice. Nanamo smiled. “That’s the spirit! You’ll audition, hopefully get in, get popular and get the attention of Pipin! It’s a perfect plan!”

Alisae smirked. “It sounds like a very juvenile plan a bunch of teenaged girls cooked up, but that’s exactly what we are I suppose.” Lyse nodded. “After school we will help you get ready, we’ll pick your outfit, help you practice your song, and you’ll be ready to go by tomorrow!”

Zhara grinned. “Thank you so much girls, I’ll see you after school then.” As she said that the doors of the school opened up, allowing the students to go inside and head to their classes. “Well… I should probably head to my first period class. I’ll see you guys in choir class!”

Nanamo waved as she headed off. “Yep we’ll see you soon, have a good class, or at least try to!”

[biasedwriting]

Expectations [VIXX, Leo] i

gif credits 

Characters : VIXX’s Leo || OC

Genre : Slice of life, romance, college au, jock!taekwoon

This was a writing challenge put forth by @animeotakupooh / @vixxscifiwritings to write a jock!Taekwoon AU. But since I’ve had very different experiences with the so-called “jocks”, it just became this. 

This was supposed to be a oneshot. I promise it was. I don’t know how this became so big and messy.  So I decided to split it into more readable parts. Lots of this stuff is based off real-life college experience; I hope that it gives you college going readers some comfort or something that is just relatable. 

Thanks @taekcoon @wonshiks-tiddy and @yixingminseokjongdae for listening to me rant about this. I appreciate you guys being there for me!

Feedback is always loved.

What really bugged Minah about college was not the fact that it was full of idiots, but rather the fact that her mother had promised her that she'd probably find some sensible romance there.

Yet here she was, watching the intra college men's soccer matches go up in testosterone fuelled flames as Jung Taekwoon, captain of the soccer team, launched himself onto Kim Wonshik, resident college dj, in an attempt to knock his teeth out for a foul. She sighed, breath fogging as she watched the swarms of students hurry onto the field to detach the two.

Minah could feel herself dissociating; her eyes fixed on crowd of people and her hands clutched at the red sweater that adorned her figure. She exhaled heavily again, the fog produced blurring her vision momentarily before the figure of an outraged Jung Taekwoon being held back by his teammates came into her field of vision.

Why was it so fucking cold again? Why were these matches being held at night again?

It was the scream from the gaggle of girls beside her that snapped her back to reality. Taekwoon and Wonshik were both on the ground showing varied degrees of pain. Apparently Wonshik had slipped on the grass taking Taekwoon down with him. Or at least that was what Minah could make of the chaos. She looked around to see if there was any form of medical aid (there was none) before watching the teams pick up the two players and carry them off the field.

Minah cursed, there was no first aid box in sight and by the looks of it, no one was calling the infirmary ambulance. The crowd was quickly clearing since there was really no fight to watch now. Slipping down from her seat on a bench, Minah pulled her sweater tighter around herself before marching over to the spot where the two injured players lay. She noted Hongbin, head of the gaming club, pottering around, trying to figure out how to fix the injured players without a first aid kit.

Wonshik’s leg was propped up on a kit bag to keep it raised while Taekwoon glared at the field, a large gash on his arm bleeding profusely. Wonshik grunted when he saw Minah approach and she waved to him “hurts like a bitch.”

“No shit son.” she chuckled, turning to Hongbin  “Bean, do we have a first aid kit?” to which he shook his head “It’s in the sports office.”

“Mind getting it here  please?” she asked, feeling Taekwoon’s eyes on her as Hongbin nodded, speeding away to the sports office. She turned to Taekwoon while bending down to inspect Wonshik’s leg “you’ll need to wash that out first.”

She noted him rolling his eyes like she had said the stupidest thing in the world. Gritting her teeth, she turned to Wonshik, this was exactly why she avoided people like Taekwoon. There was something undeniably attractive about them, except they were absolute entitled assholes and Jung Taekwoon was no exception. Rolling her eyes back at him, she picked Wonshik’s foot up and undid the shoe laces.

“Did you send the minutes of the meeting to Jaehwan? They were fucking hilarious this time.” Wonshik chuckled, wincing in pain as the shoe came off  “Sanghyuk walked in at 6:30 and walked out at 6:45 and returned with a cola. Bitch didn’t share it with me.” he recited as Minah glared at him.

“I’m glad you’re happy with a sprained ankle.” she felt a box knocking her on the head “Oh, Hongbin! Thank you.”

“Called the ambulance too.” he said, settling down beside Taekwoon who was clearly upset about being off the field.

“Genius.”  she appreciated as she set to spraying and taping Wonshik’s ankle before pulling the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and shaking it. Another gust of wind had her pulling her sweater closer. The wet turf wasn’t helping one bit with the cold either. Fixing her glasses, she took a deep breath and faced Taekwoon “arm please.”

“Don’t need it.” he grumbled and instantly Minah’s eye narrowed.

“If you’re done being momentarily macho and doing want to die of sepsis, show me your arm.” she sighed, crossing her arms as Hongbin held back a chuckle as Taekwoon looked up at her shivering figure. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about her appearance. She was reasonably good looking, somewhat dishevelled and tired. He held out his arm, eyes fixing themselves on the field. She shook her head, eyeing the gash which hadn’t been rinsed out, shrugging, she poured a capful of the hydrogen peroxide on it as he hissed.

“Told you to wash it.” she shrugged yet again before wiping the dirt and blood off with a cotton pad. Taekwoon’s peripheral vision picked up on her movements silently as Hongbin acted as her assistant. His skin tingled with the peroxide and the sensation of her cold hands on his hot skin. Her fingertips were turning steadily blue and shaking as she tied the gauze in place “Done,” she mumbled  “I’ll wait till the ambulance comes in. Wear your hoodie, or you’ll fall sick from your body cooling down too soon.” before returning to take a seat beside Wonshik who tried to reach and ruffle her hair only to have her swat his hand away playfully and chucking his varsity jacket over him as a blanket.

Minah could feel her jeans get damp as they absorbed the water on the grass. She shuddered, feeling the chill climbing up her spine. Letting out another shaky breath, the tried to focus her gaze on the field. Her vision was obstructed by heavy cotton dropping softly on her head. Blinking into the sudden darkness, she could smell the aqua scented cologne attached to it in attempts to shield the sweat of its owner. Her fingers grabbed at it and pulled it off to note that it was the college varsity jacket with “Jung TW” printed on the back. She turned to see Taekwoon returning to his seat, wearing the heavy college hoodie as Hongbin side-eyed him.

Taekwoon found it amusing how it hung off her shoulders loosely as she sat on the field, the game coming to a close when the ambulance pulled in. It slipped off her shoulder as she supported Wonshik and helped him hobble in. He could finally hear the crickets in the silence of the now emptying field, his soccer cleats hanging over his shoulders as the wetness of the grass seeped through his shoes. Once she got Wonshik onto the ambulance, she turned to him and nodded to the vehicle.

“You’ll need to check if you need stitches.” she turned, the jacket barely hanging onto her shoulders. He clambered onto the ambulance, noting her choosing to sit next to Wonshik and regularly taking peeks at his arm.

The nurse declared that he needed two stitches and bedrest while Wonshik’s leg was bound tightly and he was fed with painkillers causing him to snore in the bed next to Taekwoon’s. Disgruntled, Taekwoon blinked into the darkness and noted that his jacket now hung on the solitary chair of the room. The woman wearing it had vanished.

Minah admired her ability to lie low for most part. Most of her lack of recognition could be attributed to her major which took up most of her time; the second was largely her unwillingness to really get into drama, prefering to watch than partaking in it. She had her friends in all social structures of the college system and could maintain relationships.

But if one had to ask her to choose a theme song for her social relationships, she would shrug and say “Here, by Alessia Cara.” the typical college life depicted in the movies wasn’t her cup of tea. Parties, drinking, and heavy social interaction made her more uncomfortable than anything.

Which was exactly why it was extremely simple to fade out of Taekwoon’s memory. Taekwoon’s social status in the college structure was clearly top tier filled with the dignified chaos of spoilt rich brats. In an institution run largely by the ‘donations’ of these students, it was easy for them to get away with murder. Everyone was a passing face unless they really had any purpose in their lives and while Minah had all the resources to be the same, she just didn’t find it to bring anything of value to her life, but if it helped them sleep at night, she was no one to judge.

So she wouldn’t be entirely surprised if someone stumbled into the student apartment block intoxicated and declaring that Jung Taekwoon or someone of the likes was a great kisser or had ensured that they couldn’t walk the next day (except there they were, walking). It was simply just another occurrence on the campus which made little to no difference in her life.

What really bugged her is the fact that she really liked how Jung Taekwoon’s jacket smelled and was in half a mind to ask him what cologne he used so she could buy one. But she realized exactly how creepy that sounded and kept that thought entirely to herself. She didn’t need to interact with the likes of him until it was absolutely necessary.

So she let him and his jacket shift somewhere to the back of her brain.

Taekwoon was a distant figure for most part in Minah’s life, he was just the silent member of the noisy entourage of people who made their presence known everywhere they went. Even the library wasn’t safe from them. Though they visited it irregularly as compared to Minah, every time they did, Minah was certain she was going to physically hurt them. Finals week was in full swing and she didn’t appreciate anyone disturbing her writing process. She rolled her eyes looking pointedly at the woman sitting across her.

“Haneul,” she mumbled, looking across the table at her roommate who was bobbing her head to the music playing on her earphones “why are they here?” she noted that her roommate’s eyes were fixed entirely on someone else “listen woman, Kim Wonshik will still be your boyfriend if I yell at his friends.”

“Suit yourself,” Haneul shrugged, turning back to her work until Wonshik came to sit beside her. He waggled his fingers at her in greeting before pressing a kiss to Haneul’s temple. Wonshik's arrival in turn brought along the whole group of people that Minah had been so annoyed with. Sighing, she shut her laptop, trying very hard to ignore the heart eyes between Wonshik Haneul as she got up

“I'm going to find another place to sit.” she said, picking her laptop and spinning around to come face to face with Taekwoon. She noted the mild recognition in his eyes as she brushed past, smelling that damn distinct cologne of his which simply made her even more grumpy.

“Leaving this seat?” He asked, taking the seat she left behind.

“Have to. People can't seem to hush up in a library.” she grumbled only to hear his “ah well, can't do much about it.” before making her way upstairs to find an isolated cubicle on the mezzanine floor overlooking the group of people. It wasn't long before she heard the noise from the group below echoing through the library only to be cut across by Taekwoon's soft.

“Guys, we should probably keep it down.”

“Yeah, probably cause you need time to process that dumb reading.” Minah overheard someone's loud teasing voice.

“Shut up. I have a major game tomorrow evening which I won't be allowed to play if I don't pass this test.” Taekwoon hissed back and silence reigned over the library.

Minah sighed, of course he wanted people to shut up for his own purposes.

Turning back to her screen, she squinted at her final paper, tapping her fingers uselessly over the keyboard before throwing her head back and groaning. This stupid ass paper was going nowhere and no amount of placing the readings on her head would cause the information to diffuse into her brain. Even the screen was starting to make her eyes hurt.

“Paper’s fucked up.” she heard Han Sanghyuk’s voice pipe up from the cubicle in front of hers. Soon the entirety of his giant figure slowly rose from behind the partition.

“When has Kang EVER given us a paper that isn’t fucked up.” Minah grumbled making Sanghyuk grin.

“And yet, you are masochistic enough to take her course every sem. I’m done with her, I can’t sit through another course like that. This paper is giving me a proper headache and craving for ramyun” he whined, resting his head on the partition like a defeated man. Minah patted his giant head before brightening up.

“You know what, we should get some ramyun, sit together and finish this shit.” she whacked his head “stop making fun of my interest in history. The next course is folklore, I’d be crazy to miss it!”

“You’re such a fucking nerd. Now let's go! I can hear your stomach rumble” Sanghyuk chuckled, leaning over and shutting the lid of her laptop as she glared at him while getting up and following him downstairs.

“Fuck off, you’re in Advanced Calculus, you’re the bigger nerd.” she nudged him as they headed to the cafe on campus which was the only one which stayed open till 2 am. The temperature change from the library to the outdoors wasn’t drastic, but the lack of the suffocating atmosphere made her smile as the two trudged towards the cafe, the over watered lawn squelching under their feet.

Soon they had two steaming bowls of ramyun which they happily slurped on in silence. Mainly because they were exhausted and it was unfortunate that 2am hunger struck, but also because they really didn’t have the time to dawdle. Instead the hurried back to the library with scalded tongues but happy stomachs.

“You head back up, I’m going to the pantry and getting myself some water. Then we’ll motivate each other to finish this shit.” Minah whispered to Sanghyuk who was now rummaging through his bag for his other notebook, he shot her a thumbs up, head still buried in his backpack.

Minah grinned, heading into the pantry, tucked in the corner of the library. It was largely bare, home to only a water dispenser. Picking up a glass, she filled it up, eyes feeling extremely tired as she closed them, exhaling heavily as she turned around into something a little too solid to be air. Water sloshed in the glass from the sudden movement, dripping down her neck and rendering her t-shirt wet enough to cling to her skin. The cold liquid made her gasp, suddenly feeling more awake; but also feeling a pair of feline eyes fixing themselves on her.

Why the fuck was Jung Taekwoon turning up everywhere all of the sudden?!

“Uh,” she began, trying to avoid looking at his face because he looked like he was going to crack up any second.

“You’re wet.”

“I’m sorry.” she cringed, side stepping and exiting the pantry as quickly as possible. Taekwoon was left behind gaping at the space that had previously been occupied by her. He had finally gotten a reasonably good look at her face, though flushed red at the situation. She had sharp eyebrows, that was something that really caught his eyes, her eyes were small but they looked like they could set something on fire with just a glance (which it did, he thought he was burning into ashes the moment she met his gaze), she had clear skin which was surprising amongst college students considering the stress and lack of nutrition in general. He wondered why he was noticing all these things about someone who he had never really taken note of before, yet here he was in the middle of the library pantry, dissecting her facial features and thinking of how her shirt clung to her skin.

Taekwoon shook his head before reaching for another glass and filling it and downing it in a gulp.

Surely he wasn’t going to see her again.

That was until he entered the Folklore and Myths class he had signed up for the new semester. His jaw dropped when he saw Professor Kang at the teacher’s desk. No one had told him that this course was being taken by Professor Kang! He would have never taken it up had that been the case. He was told that English Folklore was taken by Professor Bang, the old fart whose courses were a breeze; so what on earth was Kang doing here?

Hurriedly he looked at the course list in his hand and felt his heart stop. This was a the Folklore and Myths class where they applied fancy theory to children’s stories (or at least that’s what his brain could quickly process in the moment). The moment he caught Kang’s eye and noted the condescending look on her face, he knew how royally fucked he was. Professor Kang’s courses were known around the campus for being notoriously tough.

“Excuse me,” he heard a voice behind him to see the woman waiting for him to entirely enter the class. She blinked up at his face, looking quite baffled at his appearance. She noted that his usually dark hair had now been bleached to a silver and it oddly suited him. “are you in this course?”

“Uh.”

“Better get in, or Kang will flip her lid.” she said, easing past him into the classroom, spotting Haneul, who had her head on the desk, and taking the empty seat beside her. Taekwoon edged into the classroom, noticing that the last row was empty and plopping himself down there.

“Taken another one of my courses hmm Minah?” Professor Kang smiled at Minah who grinned back. Taekwoon straightened, so the girl who fixed his arm and spilled water all over herself was called Minah.

“One every semester, I love how you kill me with assignments.” she replied, pulling her laptop out her bag as Kang fixed her gaze on him.

“Jung Taekwoon right?”

“Ye-Yeah.” he mumbled, squirming in his spot as she assessed him. Kang was not particularly tall and rather plain looking, with very sharp eyes. But as most people said, short people were closer to hell, Kang was known to be the devilish professor and that reputation made Taekwoon shake in his shoes.

“This is a rather advanced course to be joining. I hope you can keep up. Unfortunately, there’s no backing out right now since most of the other courses are full.” she said and Taekwoon felt the sting of the comment. It was apparent that he looked like a deer in the headlights as Jaehwan chuckled from his spot in the front row.

“The soccer team captain in Myths? I thought this day wouldn’t come.” he laughed as Minah rolled her eyes at him.

“Well it has, so get over it Jaehwan.” she glared at the grinning man before turning to her laptop. Taekwoon eyed the exchange and wondered what exactly was going on before being swept away by Kang’s lecture. There was no way of making any sense of what she was saying, let alone keeping up with whatever running notes the woman seemed to give during the lesson. He was stumped watching the students in the front row type away furiously, fingers almost a blur over their keyboards.

This was pretty much the stupidest Taekwoon had ever felt in his life. His vision blurred as he tried his best to focus on the quickly changing slides as Kang’s voice droned down. He looked down at his phone and sighed,  at least he had the upcoming weekend’s  party to get his mind off things.

“No.” Minah deadpanned when Haneul asked her to accompany her to a party the coming weekend. The two had been sitting  in the coffee shop attached to the library trying to get through a reading for a class when Haneul had brought the topic up. Haneul said that Wonshik had simply extended an invite to Minah. Minah wasn’t entirely certain as to why there was even a party being held. She supposed it was one of those rage parties influenced by copious consumption of mainstream media.

“Aww come on! It’s literally the beginning of the semester! You can’t complain about the lack of money or time!” Haneul frowned at her while setting aside her cottage cheese sandwich and taking a swig of her coffee. Minah shrugged, drumming her fingers on the table top as her eyes fixed themselves on the screen.

“Need to make arrangements for acoustic night.” she replied in monotone causing Haneul to frown even more.

“That will take a day or two. Just ask Jaehwan and Wonshik to get their shit together and ask the student activities for permission.”

“I said I’d handle this one.” Minah continued to scroll through the reading, pausing to down the rest of her coffee.

“I’ll help you! Now if you don’t come I’m locking you out of the room!”

“I have keys, you do realize,” Minah sighed, looking up to meet her roommate’s puppy dog eyes “you want me to give you company...alright. I won’t stay long okay? Plus I’ll feel like a third wheel or something.”

“Not to worry! While Hyukkie can’t make it, I have a fine replacement in the form of Hongbin to give you company in being sober whilst drunk…well, you sober and him being sober whilst drunk!” Haneul declared with a grin. “Also! How could you even suggest that you’d be the third wheel! You’re my number one priority!”

“I’m glad, for a moment there I thought you were setting me up with Hongbin or Hyukkie.”

“Hyuk’s too gay for Hakyeon and Bean is too...not interested.” Haneul counted off her fingers.

“I believe the term is asexual or aromantic. I’m not entirely sure which he identifies as.” Minah squinted in confusion. “Nonetheless, he is not interested and neither am I. Either way, nice to know that I will have company when you’re making out with Wonshik.”

“We don’t always make out!”

“Whatever, I have a partner in cringe.” Minah grinned, getting up to pay for the coffee and sandwiches as Haneul picked up their laptops.

“Fuck off.”

Minah wasn’t entirely wrong about feeling completely out of place at the party. It was in some rented place with flashy lights, loud music, and suspicious alcohol. She was certain there was a room with all the smokers in, their dazed gazes looking at each other through the grey haze. Wonshik and Jaehwan had swept Haneul away as soon as they had arrived leaving Minah and Hongbin to look at the mess that had already been created. She could vaguely identify Monsta X playing really loudly as she shifted closer to Hongbin. At least she was glad they had arrived late so she could spend as less time as possible in this suffocating atmosphere.

“So apparently this is for the soccer team winning a tournament. The invites spiralled out of control.” Hongbin tried to voice over the loud music as he sidestepped some broken glass. He looked around for the beer, choosing to start off slow while finding a clean can of Sprite for Minah. Minah looked around, half of the people were people she knew by face but not by name. She smiled awkwardly at the people who met her eyes hoping Hongbin would return with their drinks as soon as he could.

“Apparently they’ve set up a gaming room in one of the rooms. It’ll just be a bunch of us chilling in there if you want a safe space to be in.” Hongbin said when he appeared beside her, handing the can over to her. She cracked it open, it had gone lukewarm.

“Minnie-aaahhh!” Jaehwan’s voice echoed in the room causing the two to cringe as Hongbin raised his fingers to plug his ears. Jaehwan was probably the only one who could possibly be louder than the actual music at a party.

“Probably drunk off one bottle of beer.” Hongbin mouthed, chuckling as Minah wrestled Jaehwan off her shoulders. Apparently struggle was futile as Jaehwan firmly latched onto the grumbling woman and squealed in her ears.

“We’re karaoke-ing in the corner so come join usss!!!” he yelled enthusiastically in her ear before dragging her away, completely ignoring all her attempts to tell him that public singing was completely off the table for her. Hongbin looked at her pitifully; waving as she got dragged away.

“SAVE ME!”

“No, this is too much fun!” he called back causing her to curse at him. He grinned back as the crowd swept him away and that was the last of what Minah saw of Hongbin that night.

The space was starting to get oppressive, the heat from many bodies in one room was suffocating. She felt a jerk at her hand and turned to see Jaehwan grinning at her, his grip on her hand still firm as he helped her weave her way through the crowd. She adored Jaehwan, he was one of the heads of the music club and was incredibly talented. He was constantly holding workshops on campus to help people.

He was also fucking annoying when he was drunk.

“Minnie-ahhhh, do you wanna sing with meeee?” he said, almost swinging her into someone who caught hold of her before there could be any real impact. She glanced up to see Taekwoon’s flushed face glaring at her, nudging her off  before stumbling through the crowd. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she turned to reject Jaehwan’s request.

“No…”

“Awww we shouldn’t disrupt this now should we?” Jaehwan’s gaze was fixed on Wonshik’s terrible rendition of some old trot romance song whose name Minah couldn’t entirely remember. She cringed as Wonshik sat on a beaten up couch, holding his mobile phone as a microphone and serenading Haneul who was perched on his lap. Every pause in the song was punctuated with a loud kiss to her cheek and Minah shuddered at the sight. She loved her friends, she really did, but this was exactly what she meant by feeling like a third wheel.

“Minah! We thought we lost you!” Haneul called from her seat on Wonshik’s lap, holding her arms out for a hug like they hadn’t seen each other for years. Minah sighed, she loved Haneul to bits and would go to the ends of the world for her, which was why she found herself being squished and cuddled by her roommate and best friend. She tried very hard to ignore the fact that Wonshik had his head buried in Haneul’s neck, pressing open mouthed kisses there.

“Hannie, is Wonshik hecka drunk?” she mumbled into her roommate’s ear and Haneul nodded.

“Initially he was singing into a shot glass.” she said, somewhat exasperated, but she sound equally endeared. Minah grinned, patting the top of Haneul’s head.

“I’ll take the bus back to the campus, you should take care of him. I don’t feel great here.”

“But sisters over misters! We can head back and do something fun!” Haneul tried to stand up as Minah shook her head.

“It’s all good, I’ll just head back, I’ll get the acoustic night stuff started up. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Take Hongbin with you, at least!” Haneul looked at Minah, worried and Minah nodded to reassure her.

“Sure, I’ll go look for him.” she replied, knowing that it would be a futile attempt to locate Hongbin in the crowd, she wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to hear phone calls at the decibel level this party was going.  Right now Minah was prepared to do anything to get out of the oppressive heat of the party.  

Not bothering to look for Hongbin, Minah made a beeline for the door. Stumbling out into the cool night, she let out a heavy breath. The rented villa was not very far from campus, used very often for such parties by the students of the college since the college disallowed underaged drinking. It was somewhat isolated, not within the city and the sudden change from blaring music to absolute silence was stark. Minah shivered at the sudden cold. If she walked a short distance down-hill she would be able to catch the shuttle bus to the residential campus. She heaved another sigh before heading forth coming to a complete halt when she saw the sight in front of her.

Taekwoon leaned heavily against his vehicle, inebriated, he had come out for air and was suddenly struck with a deep sense of melancholy. He snorted, people like him weren’t really supposed to have such feelings, but when he was repeatedly reminded on a daily basis that his brain wasn’t good enough, it stung. It stung like the cold wind which had picked up and was cutting past his cheek. He sat down slumped down in front of the teal vehicle, heavily displeased. Even though he had won the match, he hated how stupid Kang made him feel.

Minah gaped, he looked a little like an image straight out of a manhwa with his silver hair, varsity jacket, ripped jeans, and the gloomy expression on his face. She ought to go get the bus, she really should have. But Jung Taekwoon with a giant pout on his drunk face was a little too much for her to miss. Minah found herself inadvertently stepping towards him.

Taekwoon nearly jumped when he felt movement beside him, his eyes shot open to land on Minah who was squatting beside him, blinking curiously. He opened his mouth to order her to fuck off, but she spoke first instantly silencing him.

“For a drunk guy passed out, you’re pretty cute.” she grinned, ruffling his hair.

“Fuck off.” he grumbled, swatting her hand away and glaring at her bespectacled face. The sight of her annoyed him. How was it that she managed to understand what was going on in Kang’s classes?  She clicked her tongue.

“Too bad you’re an idiot. Alright. I’m off then.” She stood up, taking a step away and Taekwoon could feel the flare that shot up within him subside. He noted that she took a few steps away pausing for a few seconds before returning. She slid down beside him and took a seat on the sand. He looked at her in her red and blue plaid shirt and plain blue jeans, her white sneakers in sharp contrast with his black ones. She raised her eyebrow as his stoic gaze.

“See, I can’t leave you drunk and pouting here. So I’m going to wait till you sober up a little more and get you back to campus.” she shrugged.

“Why would you do that?” Taekwoon narrowed his eyes.

“Because I’m a responsible adult,” she grinned, pulling her phone out “I’ll call a cab.”

“Can’t leave my baby behind.” Taekwoon grumbled, vision blurring as he leaned heavily against the car. Fuck Himchan for getting him so drunk, fuck Kang for making him so angry, fuck this woman for bothering him so much.

“So, I’ll drive you back to campus then.”

“Fuck no, you aren’t allowed to touch my baby.” he curled away from her and pouted even more when he heard an amused laugh leave her lips.

“Hey pouty brat, give me the keys and let’s get you back to campus.” she waggled her fingers in front of him, indicating that he drop the keys in her hands.

“I am not a pouty brat!” he spat pausing when his stomach rumbled making Minah laugh even more.

“We’ll buy pizza or grab McDonalds on the way.” she cooed, having dealt with drunk Haneul more than once had made her rather adept at bribing people into doing things. What she didn’t expect was to see Jung Taekwoon, one of the most popular men in college, rummage for his precious car keys in exchange for food. The enthusiasm in his actions was somewhat endearing. Handing the keys over to her he nodded.

“Alright. McDonalds fries sounds amazing right now.”

“Than shall we head there? Or do you want to sit here for a bit?” she asked, as he shook his head.

“Fries and a Big Mac.”

“Mhmm,” Minah hummed, standing up and dusting herself off before holding her hand out. Taekwoon examined the proffered hand with narrowed eyes causing Minah to roll her own “I will abandon you here if you don’t get your ass up.” he gripped at her hand as she tugged his weight up, stumbling forth into her arms, Taekwoon found himself leaning heavily on her, she smelled vaguely like some kind of flower that he couldn’t entirely place his finger on. She could handle his weight pretty decently for someone of her stature. He smiled into her hair, leaning even more onto her frame.

“You smell nice.”

“Thank you bub, you need to get into the car.” she huffed, shifting her center of gravity to adjust to the long noodle-like man using her as a support. He was warm against her cold skin and the damn cologne was now too close for comfort. Biting down on her lip, she hitched him up, struggling towards the car. He was little to no help getting the door open as he vaguely hummed into her hair “Jesus Christ Jung, at least get in.”

“Got it got it.” he said, stumbling into the passenger seat and fumbling with the seatbelt, getting increasingly frustrated as he missed the lock and the belt kept sliding back into position. Minah ran her fingers through her hair, trying very hard not to be amused. Clearly the initial hostility was to ensure that she didn’t see this mess. But she couldn’t deal with the fumbling anymore.

“Here, let me.” she said leaning over to click the seatbelt in place. She could feel Taekwoon giggling.

“What is it?”

“Your glasses are pink.”

“Why yes, they are.” she said, shifting away and shutting the door. Taekwoon lazily looked at the path she took to the driver’s seat, getting in and shutting the door behind herself. Sticking the keys into the ignition, she backed out of the space Taekwoon had parked in. Taekwoon hummed into the silence, mind wandering as he looked at his surroundings.

“Did you get back your grade for the first response note?” Minah asked tentatively and all of the sudden Taekwoon remembered exactly why he was upset. Minah noted that his face turned sour almost instantly.

“Kang?”

“Makes me feel stupid.”

“Yeah?” Minah supplied, eyes fixed on the road. She was aware that Kang was being extra tough on Taekwoon for no good reason except for being somewhat of an elitist. It didn’t help that Taekwoon didn’t have any foundations in the course to help him manage to get through it.

“You all make me feel stupid and I don’t like it. I hate how things don’t make sense. I hate it.” Taekwoon glared out of the window as Minah took a turn towards the McDonalds which was on some godforsaken road.

“Is it something we do?” she asked softly.

“You guys understand! And sneer at me when Kang does ask questions that I can’t even begin to comprehend!” there was a whine in Taekwoon’s voice that made Minah want to pet his head like a puppy. She chose instead to focus on the road, the large yellow sign shining brightly a few meters away. Turning into the drive-in, there was a silence which broken by the crackle of the server asking them for their order. Soon Taekwoon was wolfing down on a Big Mac as Minah guiltily at her large order of fries.

“Are...you mad at us?” she asked, her fries not touched. Taekwoon looked at her before taking another hungry bite of his burger stuffed with fries. Swallowing, he sniffled.

“Do you think...I am stupid?”

Minah frowned, turning to him, his silver hair fluttered as a gust of wind blew in “what? No.” she noticed that Taekwoon wasn’t really taking her word for it “urgh, how do I explain this? Intelligence...isn’t always academic; however much people...especially Kang might want you to believe. You’ve heard people call you a genius on the field, you’re aware of your surroundings when most people aren’t. So what if you aren’t academically inclined...it doesn’t make you stupid.” she said, looking at her fries, finally picking one up to eat it, feeling Taekwoon’s eyes on her. She forced a few more fries into her mouth, trying to pretend that his gaze didn’t bother her. Either way, he wouldn’t remember this.

“Should we head back to campus?” she started again, adopting a lighter tone and looking at him. His head faced the window and his eyes were closed. She sighed, clearly he had fallen asleep thanks to her speech. She ate as many fries as she could, wiping her fingers off on a piece of tissue before restarting the ignition.

The drive back to campus was silent, but the air was heavy as Minah tried to focus on the road. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, lighting up the path as Taekwoon slept peacefully. Thankfully it wasn’t more than a fifteen minute drive as Minah drove up past the campus security, halting to wake Taekwoon up. He whined and blinked quickly, eyes squinting to adjust to the light and sleepily turning to Minah.

“Which block?”

“G.”

“Fancy new block, okay.” she nodded, turning the vehicle in the direction of it. Taekwoon looked dazed as they reached the tall imposing building and Minah turned off the ignition.

“Can you make it back to your room okay or do I need to call someone?” she asked, unbuckling her seatbelt before clicking on the button to undo his. He shook his head, eyes fixed on her hands as they moved back to pick up the doggy bag of fries “alright. I’ll...see you when I see you then.” she said reaching to unlock the door “and Taekwoon.” she called for his attention “let me tell you a little secret. We all feel stupid in Kang’s class. We just pretend we have a clue as to what is going on. Just a little thing to keep in mind.” she said with a smile.

Taekwoon met her eyes, brain sober enough to comprehend what she was saying. The moon reflected off her spectacles but her smile made her glow. His heart felt a little lighter as he nodded, his stomach rumbled noisily as nausea crept up his gullet. She turned to open the door and he found himself calling “Minah,” Taekwoon noticed her freeze, as she turned around. This was the first time her name had left his lips. Leaning across, he pressed his lips to her cheek and shifted away breathing out a  “thank you.” he said before opening the door and ejecting his dinner onto the footpath.

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