#sorry the resolution in this is probably trash

[callias-w]

I dont know why I draw Yashiki in such a way he feels so autistic to me. That one drawing walking on his toes?? Self complacent art probably, I love Yashiki so much. He's so weird and cool. He is also always wearing comfy clothes…

[a-very-mere-mortal]

A Review of In Stars and Time

If you're seeing this, you've probably already played In Stars and Time. I'm not exactly bursting with followers from before I became obsessed with it. But this is still worth making, just in case I can convince one person to pick this game up. So, to give you fair warning, there will be some (hopefully) light spoilers in this. If you want the basics, just skip to the last two paragraphs, but if you want an idea of my emotional impression of the game, try this on for size:

In Stars and Time is an RPG about the power of friendship in which you play as Siffrin, a quiet and introspective rogue out to save the country of Vaguarde from the evil King, who seeks to freeze the world in time. With them are their friends Mirabelle, Odile, Bonnie, and Isabeau, and they all draw strength from the wonderful bonds that their little group has. Arriving in the town of Dormont, you and your friends charge up the House of Change to meet the King, ready to defeat him using the magic of...

Uh oh. Something seems to have gone wrong here. I'm pretty sure that you weren't supposed to die this early. If it was the final battle and this was some kind of grand sacrifice I would get it, but as of right now... let's just try this again.

In Stars and Time is a game about time loops. Specifically, the one that you, Siffrin, are stuck in. It turns out you may have been less prepared to fight the King than you thought. Don't worry though; you have all the time in the world to figure it out, even if it's a little more difficult than it first appeared. Just remember to rely on your helpful guide Loop, who's here to help you make it through the best they can, even if they don't know how or why the loop started in the first place. But as if getting through the House of Change wasn't hard enough, what with its traps, locked doors, and vicious Sadnesses standing in your way, you have to manage your party members too. As it turns out, they aren't looping with you. But don't worry! While you may have felt a little lost at first, eventually you discover the perfect things to do and say to make them like you even more than the first time around. With your bonds stronger than ever and your route through the House perfectly memorized, you charge up to face the King in a heated battle with the fate of Vaguarde on the line! It's difficult, but in the end you triumph over the King and head into the final room of the House to celebrate with your friends- no, your family.

That's odd. You've defeated the King with the best possible ending, but there's still another 3 Acts left in the story. What's going on here?

In Stars and Time is just another trash indie game. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but it's true; this game should be 10 hours shorter and cut right after you beat the King with your family in tow. It hurts to play because now that things have gone wrong, things seem to have gotten worse in your head, too. Where's the resolution to this story? When does it end? You said all the right things, you made all the right moves, and your family members have never been happier! By any other game's logic, this would be the endpoint. You may have struggled to make it through the time loop, but since you managed to keep your sanity intact and be nice to your friends, you get a gold star and the true ending. For some reason, this game refuses to let you have that success, and I'm infuriated on your behalf. I suppose you'll have to keep looking for a solution somewhere within the House, even though I know you're getting a little sick of it by now. Try not to get too frustrated by all this, okay? It would be quite awful if you did something you'd regret because you were feeling...

Ah. Well.

That changes my opinion of things, I suppose. I have no words that could do justice to what we just experienced. What a finale, eh? Let's try this review one more time, with a more...complete view of things. No more of this "describe what happens in the game step by step" malarkey. Everyone knows that's bad practice anyways.

In Stars and Time is an RPG about memory, communication, and the mortifying ordeal of being known. (It'll make more sense when you play it). With a lovely sound track and both beautiful hand-drawn and pixelated artwork, In Stars and Time manages to convey one the best stories I have ever experienced in the history of gaming. If you're the sort that likes comparisons, I would describe this game as a combination of the the humor and surprising depth of the Stanley Parable, the intense emotional characters and tight writing of Undertale, and the incredible worldbuilding of Harry Potter (without having to suffer through J. K. Rowling). I felt genuinely mystified by the unexplained and had a strong desire to learn more about the world during my unfortunately brief time within it.

3 weeks after completing the game, I'm still stewing in the things I felt and the realizations I came to while playing it. This is one of the few games I can say genuinely changed my life; after playing it I found the strength to reach out and connect to the friends I have in the real world on a level I never thought I'd be able to achieve. I feel a moral obligation to recommend this game; if it can do the same things for you that it did for me, it would be evil of me to deny you them. For the incredibly modest price of 20$, you will experience approximately 20 hours of soul-gripping gameplay that might stick with you for the rest of your life. This is something worth your time.

[justareallyverychillperson]

The Question

Certain feelings don't go away.

Rocket kept himself occupied looking after his adopted children, thus keeping out of Quill’s way. 

He told himself it was to give him a chance to form some equivalent of the old bond with Gamora before she left.

But he continued to avoid the man even after all of that. And it wasn’t out of annoyance for the team splitting up after their monumental victory. Well, not only that. It wasn’t Peter’s idea.

He needed to prevent a situation in which his motives during the mission would be questioned.

Peter didn't seem to judge him for it. Though he was most probably curious at the very least.

When there was no longer a way out of it, the raccoon resorted to hiding under his bed.

“Checking for Orloni under there, ‘cause I think Nebula’s been keeping them on their toes,” Peter made no comment about his current position.

“Can’t a man enjoy a confined space in peace?” he grumbled, indignant at being caught out.

“Not a man, but okay. And no, not when you're obviously evasive because of what’s happened,” Star-Lord did not approve of living in denial. Not anymore.

“You still haven't explained the whole thing about not shooting the guy who literally tortured you. Of all the times to show mercy, that’s just strange,”

“He was more than that to me, doofus,” Rocket admitted quietly, dreading the final confession.

“He’s the closest thing to a dad I’ve ever had. He raised me. Not traditionally, nor in accordance with ethics or whatever, but still. He’s family,” he waited for the moment when Quill would say he was nuts.

“Wow. And I thought I had daddy issues. You’ve formed an unbreakable bond with a dude who was gonna cut your brain out and study it as if you’d never even existed. I am so sorry we left him behind,” he apologised sincerely.

“Had to be done,” Rocket sighed tensely. Slowly, he approached Peter, rubbing his snout against his legs, hiding his face between them defeatedly.

The half-Terran resolutely picked up the forlorn critter, slinging him over his shoulder and squeezing him tightly. “Aww...you’re gonna be okay, buddy,” he hummed. Beginning to sing, he rocked the raccoon carefully, stroking his fur from head to tail repeatedly.

Ooh, child, things are gonna get easier...

Once the damaged fellow was done crying, he was tucked into bed without objection. Of course, in addition to a blanket, his bed was adorned by a couple of worried kits staring at their saviour as his breath slowed; accompanied only by near-inaudible whimpers, silenced by tiny kisses from his own kind.

As he dreamed away to the place where Lylla, Floor and Teefs all went, a meek thought in the back of his head made plans to ask Groot if he had room between his roots for a weak, old, batshit-crazy trash panda. He knew he was going to miss his new dad a whole lot. 

Oh well,

That’s what big brothers were for.

[idontpreferit]

The "are straight men not allowed in lesbian spaces" discourse:

What we are leaving out are: bi women and their boyfriends, pan people, non binary people, gay men, or other reasons a man may find himself allowed in a specifically lesbian space. We are not talking about the overall umbrella of queer space. We are talking abt the Lesbian™️ space. The lesbian still exists. And we aren't talking about the discourse therein.

Cracks knuckles

The straight woman in question lacks nuance and u know its not in good faith when she says "I get it BUT"

The "but" stands for butthurt

The whole problem is that what was decentered or simply erased from the conversation was THE MAN being disrespectful and entitled. The reason that anything happened at all was cuz : ObViOuSLy he made himself a problem.

Treat every gun like it's loaded.

That's how women, queer people, poc, every minority thinks about cis straight white men. Potentially dangerous. Safety check.

He probably wasn't dangerous! But people who acted like him have ended up dangerous. If you're showing the same symptoms I don't feel safe, right? Come the fuck on diva, death of a thousand cuts from these guys

Top comment on her tiktok was "I'm so tired"

What I do at *my* event is take a note from the euro model and have a door picker deadass turn people away if they don't pass a vibe check

And what is that vibe check? Rejection. Maybe it's a witch hunt model too where if they drown they're not a witch, oops. Better safe than sorry though

Interesting metaphor to draw tho cuz you know how like the witch trials actually happened

And the worst thing to happen to a man is he gets rejected

So look, rejection isn't easy for EITHER of us and especially not for my fawn response having ass

Rejection therapy is a real thing

But my event is a queer, trans, kinky space and if you can't handle rejection you have no business interacting in this space.

That's not just safe space that's fortified.

I want a system where the trash takes itself out. The people r butthurt cuz they couldn't get in?? Probably their first time experiencing rejection or lack of belonging. Enjoy the novelty, babes. The deliciousness of experiencing marginalization as a snack. Cissies love it, they go make a tiktok and go viral and make the news.

But a Black enby gets turned away at a "regular" (not queer centered) club, they don't make news huh

The problem with the queen who says "we as lgbt need to do better" here's how I'm gonna put words in your mouth as a favor. What you mean by that is:

We need to do better and install door pickers permanently. Do better at rejecting ignorant disrespectful entitled straight people, specifically. I'm not saying all straight people are all those spicy adjectives all the time. I'm saying those types of straight people, the ones who got mad, lack the understanding and respect necessary to be welcome in those spaces. You showed your ass, just like when we hear a "not all men" we know you're That Kind of Man to Watch Out For.

I hate to "kids these days" about it, but conflict and rejection and resolution and acceptance are not something that many people are equipped to handle right now. It doesn't seem like conflict resolution happened in person that night at the cubbyhole. Miss thing took to the internet and let a bunch of pfps pop off in the comments. Did learning happen? Or did defensiveness dig her heels in? Well either way she and her man aren't going to a lesbian bar ever again.

There's hope for her to learn maybe but her little man friend I think is gonna dig heels, stay defensive and butthurt, and throw the dyke slur around. Because the worst thing that can happen to a man is that he's rejected. And he isn't in the spotlight, he's all protected in his privacy huh, when its his fucking fault. Now the ladies are doing all the work communicating, as usual

But with therapy, maybe in a few generations... rejection won't feel like death anymore

Conflict won't feel like death anymore

When people ask a question it'll actually be in good faith because they wanna be humble and learn

And then! We'd welcome anybody with open arms

And gender will finally be dead

Or some shit

[ardathksheyna]

Yes, I'm Against Book Banning

Even when the author in question is a shitty, derivative literary hack.

So a few people in the Brainerd school district decided to get together and ban one of Maas' books on what is turning out to be spurious reasons. The Brainerd school board pushed back and rejected the resolution—which quite frankly, they should have. It's not the place of a few individuals to try and make a determination for other parents and their children on what they can or can not be allowed to read.

In this instance, though—when I first heard about the challenge, not gonna lie but I laughed my ass off. What I found hilarious is that someone actually felt threatened enough by this trash to try and get it banned from a school library. Kind of demonstrates how far we've fallen as a society if garbage literature is actually that threatening to some people. Although, the fact that Maas is a New York Times bestseller is probably another example of society's fall from grace.

That being said, picking up a book—even one as shitty as the above���does help expand a child's literary skills, especially if that child decides to grow up to be a writer. In fact, this is where crap literature comes in handy. It gives young, aspiring writers an example of what not to do. In this case, how to actually make your characters well-rounded by not following the example of Throne of Glass. I've heard people say that the series gets better after the first book, but as the writer, you need to be able to hook the reader on the first book. Don't expect your readers to wade through one or two books of drek to get to the good stuff.

It's also hard to delve into a book when you already want to beat the shit out of the ever-so-perfect-at-everything-she-does main character. Sorry, hate to put it like this but between the ages of sixteen and twenty (sometimes, even older), about the only thing a person is good at is being a fuck-up.

Aelin is supposed to be the world's "best assassin," yet is easily startled whenever someone comes up behind her. She even brags about how fast she can kill someone but doesn't do shit in the first book.

If you're a world-renown assassin, first off, you wouldn't be bragging about it, and second, your situational awareness should be top-notch.

Segway to Fate Grand Order, Okada Izo (who ironically enough, is an Assassin-class Servant) frequently brags about being the best swordsman but this is played off for comedic affect. It's pointed out to him that there's several swordsmen/women in Chaldea who are arguably better—Okita and [DATA LOST] (sorry, too soon?) just to name a few. Oryou even specifically names Musashi as one of them, while also calling Izo a dumbass in the same sentence if I remember correctly. Ryouma, Oryou, and Izo's interactions are among my most favorites in the game.

The point being made is that if your character is going to brag about being the best, it's better to play that off for comedic effect—like in Okada's example—than try to be serious about it.

Aelin comes off as a misogynist. While I hate the character, I think I understand what Maas was trying to get at. Aelin complains about how women will cut down other women for male attention and hates them for it. Sadly, that is the only thing I sympathize with (while simultaneously being disgusted by) Aelin about.

That's because as a female software engineer, I've been on the receiving end of women attempting to undercut me because they perceived me as a threat for male attention when I very obviously had no interest whatsoever in my male coworkers. I come to work for a pay-check, not a booty-call—honestly, remote working has been a godsend for me. It's funny because it was frequently these same women that harped on there not being enough women in tech. That is a rant for another time, though.

Now Back to the Subject At Hand

Anyway, Aelin never grows out of this in any way that I can discern. Of course, Aelin had already made herself so unlikable in my mind, that her good points were overshadowed by her bad ones.

As for hooking the reader on the first book—Maas isn't the only author to fail at that task. Even well-established writers make that mistake. I'm looking at Mercedes Lackey's most recent book, Gryphon of Light as an example.

Gryphon was slow to start and reused material wholesale from short stories published in the Valdemar anthologies years ago. If that wasn't bad enough, the way that the first book ended left such a bad feeling that I'm still in the air about whether or not I'm going to continue the series. Another reason I'm having a hard time justifying getting the second book is that while I'm happy that Lackey returned to present-day Valdemar, a lot of the character details were wrong and it bugged me. It literally felt like I was reading a badly written, out-of-character fanfic. Maybe she shouldn't have waited twenty-plus years to return to present-day Valdemar, but I'm also given to understand that she wanted a break from writing Valdemar books for a few years.

That being said, I'll still finish The Founding when the final book comes out at the end of this month.

On Maas' writing style. Not throwing shade at fanfic writers or Wattpad writers here because there are very good and very bad fanfic writers out there. I'll say that it's glaringly obvious that Maas never graduated beyond writing Mary Sue anime fanfics.

I'll also admit to having a more personal reason for disliking Maas and Throne of Glass. One of her characters seems to be a card-board cutout ripoff of a character I created for my webcomic, Silent Shadow. Yes, he has the same name as my boy but I could ignore that. However, the physical similarities were another matter—they are close enough that they made me uncomfortable. However, that's not to say that there aren't physical differences as well (skin- and eye-color, and facial tattoos) so maybe it's all a coincidence and I can get my head out of my ass about it?

It's one of the reasons why I started the process of making Rowan look more like an anime wolf-boy than a Rumiko Takahashi-inspired yokai—which is what he was originally. It was something that I wanted to do years ago to call out his Lycan background but I honestly lacked the skills. The discoveries I made about Blender and Daz Studio—SJM's hackery not withstanding—is what helped me make that push.

The end-result is I can't see Rowan without wolf-ears now, and I honestly like it that way :)

There's another challenge coming for me in the future—Rowan's Therian form. What will make that challenging is the armature. I've learned a bit about rigging digitigrade legs so we'll see how I can put that knowledge to use. I'll probably have to use new geometry because I don't think that the Hiro 3 mesh is up to that level of deformation.

That being said, it's actually had the benefit of forcing me to hash out the personalities of my characters so that they are well-rounded with flaws and trauma of their own that they either grow out of, or know enough about themselves that they can learn to to work around or keep those flaws under control.

So yes, even shitty literature has educational value, even if it's an example of how not to create your characters.

[kalkori-has-moved]

big simulacra spoilers under the cut

Ok, so we know Simulacra is very much about people not being what they seem and critiquing the internet...

...But could we talk about how it's also about everyone deserving a second chance no matter what? Cuz I don't ever see people talking about that.

In the first simulacra game, Taylor is a registered sex offender. And while only you can choose to believe whether it is true or not, the game makes you see that Taylor deserves a second chance at living as much as Anna does.

In Simulacra Pipe Dreams, you can see how your friend [I FORGOT HIS NAME I'M SORRY] has his struggles with addiction, and throughout the entire game you are made to try and save someone who before you never even knew.

And oh boy, Simulacra 2. Let's get a rundown on that!

There is the detective, who has stolen shit just to give the case a second chance [You see what I did there?] at a real resolution, who is then given a second chance by the department in the middle of the game after they find out, and you want to make sure this man's second chance goes well because you know him.

There's Rex, who literally has a pyramid scheme and knew what he was doing was completely wrong.

There's Mina, who lied about seeing ""her best friend"" die in a car crash. And there is also the whole "selling trauma" thing.

There is Arya too, who faked being an ambassador for Aluren. I'm 99% sure there's more than that but unfortunately my memory is trash and I'm going off the wiki which is quite bare bones.

But, in the end, the three above friends of Maya aren't just heartless people. You see how much they cared for Maya, whether it's them saying it themselves or through the actions you can see. In fact, them all blaming each other for her death probably is mostly because they actually cared.

In the end, literally the best ending is to save them all. You are still made to want to save them, no matter how awful the people may be.

Also, TRM and the ripple man literally both are proposing second chances to people. A second chance at popularity, a second chance at a better reality, do you see where I am coming from with the claim that this entire series is about second chances?

I may be wrong, and Simulacra 3 will come unto my world and shatter that idea. But from where I see, the biggest things about this story is the worst of humanity, but also the best of it still being in there, and the only steps one can take being the next.

[pippytmi]

Howdy! For the little au trope prompt ask. 2, 2, 39. Supercorp please. Thank you! (Hope it helps your writer's block!)

Everyone knows that when the Quidditch season starts, rivalries begin.

As a general rule, Lena doesn’t mind the Gryffindors. If she had to pick a house she hated, the Slytherins would be the unfortunate lot; Veronica Sinclair and Andrea Rojas alone give the group a bad name. (That could be Lena’s own personal bias, given the fact that both girls have broken her heart, but she maintains it goes far deeper than that). But the point stands—Lena isn’t a hateful person. Generally.

There is just something about Kara Danvers that brings it out of her. The one and only Gryffindor that Lena despises is that moronic, reckless Chaser who scores nearly every single goal she takes. The Ravenclaw team is nothing to sneeze at either, but Lena hates that of all people to throw her off her game, it is a girl who blew up her broom when attempting to fly on it during her first year. Seven years that she has known Kara, and still Lena is annoyed at the mere sight of those perpetually-askew glasses, those untucked robes, that undone tie; Kara Danvers is never expected to be poised and perfect, even with all the expectations on her shoulders. She’s just so...blasé. People talk about Kara like she is destined to join a Quidditch team straight out of Hogwarts and all Kara does is stroll into the Great Hall on game day with her head in the clouds.

So far up the clouds that she apparently can’t watch where she is going, either. Lena throws Kara the nastiest glare she can muster when they just about knock each other’s heads together, but all Kara does at the sight of it is grin. She always grins, not in a way that is arrogant or snide, but stupidly amused. Stupidly amused, as if everything Lena says or does is a bloody laugh, like Lena’s simmering hatred is nothing more than an inside joke.

“Hey, Luthor,” Kara says cheerfully, and there she goes, pushing those crooked glasses up her nose. There is a scratch on one lens, and Kara has either not noticed or not bothered to repair it. “Trying to take out the competition a little early, even for you.”

“You were the one in my way, Danvers,” Lena replies tightly.

“Was I?” And here is the kicker, that golden girl charm that fools everyone: bright blue eyes peeking out beneath those eyelashes, hand rubbing at the back of her neck, undone tie slipping an inch further. Kara tilts her head unassumingly as if that is even an actual question.

It makes Lena furious. “Here’s a tip,” she says, “for here and the Quidditch field. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you could actually see where you’re headed.”

Kara has the audacity to look affronted. “Is this because of the Brainy incident during training? Because he and I agreed that it was a joint effort. Joint…blame. Whatever you call it.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Just keep your aggression to yourself, Danvers,” she mutters, and then she resolutely brushes past. She has no time for blank, witty banter, especially when this is the year’s first game and she has a team to rally.

“My—? Hey,” Kara’s voice rings out, louder than necessary, and that idiot is actually following her. “Hey, wait. Lena. Do you seriously think I’m aggressive? It was an accident! Both times!” A beat. “I mean both the Brainy thing and right now. I didn’t knock into Brainy twice. I did knock James off his broom once, but you probably don’t care about that since he’s not from your house, so…well anyway, just so you know, that was also an accident.”

“I have zero interest in your training squabbles,” Lena says exasperatedly, “and you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

“Oh so this is about the Brainy incident,” Kara says. “How many times do I have to say that the training pitch was ours?”

“According to you,” Lena counters. With that she whirls around, nearly colliding into Kara’s chest, but she still manages to lift her head up high and stare down that egotistical jackass. “I know you might think you’re entitled to any space you waltz into, but some of us mere mortals actually schedule training sessions. You know, like we’re supposed to.”

“I did schedule the—!” Kara has a tendency to become flustered mid-argument, it seems, because her mouth opens but no words come blustering out. Finally she settles on scowling when she declares, “You are a piece of work, you know that? Would it kill you to apologize to me once in a while?”

“That would imply that you have apologized to me at some point,” Lena scoffs. “Which you haven’t, for the record.”

“Yes I have,” Kara is quick to disagree.

Lena crosses her arms; it’s a challenge, and Kara immediately stands a little straighter when she notices. “Oh?” Lena prompts. “Like when?”

“Like…when I knocked into Brainy.”

“I fail to see how I fit in that scenario,” Lena says, “since you didn’t break my nose.”

Kara gives a little huff, as if this back and forth is all so inconvenient right now; as if she hasn’t instigated it. “Okay, but I apologized for disrupting your practice, remember? I took complete responsibility even though it was your fault you couldn’t keep track of when your team was scheduled—”

“That was not an apology. You literally said ‘Sorry Luthor, we need this more than you do’ and then refused to leave for the next half hour!”

“But I said sorry in there, ergo, it is an apology.”

“Well then, when my team beats yours to dust I’ll be sure to apologize properly for that in that exact same sympathetic manner,” Lena sneers.

Somehow, trash talk only makes that dumb, signature Kara Danvers grin come back, completely wiping away any sign of vexation. “Oh yeah? Tell me more, wise old Ravenclaw—”

Before Lena can even begin to dissect that childish comeback (and stupid sing-songy imitation of the Sorting Hat), other students come filtering down the hall and they are practically swept up in the masses. One kid completely shoulders Lena before she even realizes what’s happening; she stumbles to the left, nearly collides with the wall, and opens her mouth to shout, but then:

“Hey!” Kara is already brandishing her wand with one hand and catching the boy’s collar with the other. “Ten points from Hufflepuff! You could’ve hurt someone, walking around without looking where you’re going.”

Lena bites her tongue to stop from making a quip on how ironic that statement is, because Kara is engrossed in a stare-off with the pimply sixth year who is demanding to see her prefect badge to prove Kara can even take points. She would normally side with the kid—anything to knock Kara Danvers down a peg—but, well. For once, Lena can’t be bothered to actively hate someone getting into a heated argument on her behalf.

Two minutes later and the boy stomps off with ten points gone from his house and a detention to boot. Kara, meanwhile, is still frowning as he leaves. “Are you okay?” she asks absentmindedly, still tracking the kid’s every movement with her eyes. “I swear, if there weren’t so many witnesses I would’ve hexed him.”

“Winning move for a prefect, I’m sure,” Lena says dryly, and Kara turns towards her with that slow-growing buffoonish smile and another sheepish nudge of her glasses. Her next words kind of just fall out, almost as if she’d never formed them in her mouth but in the deep recesses of her subconscious alone: “You know, you confuse me.”

“Huh?” Another nudge. The smile slips a fraction, but just enough to show Kara is slightly confused by the change in subject.

You confuse me, Lena wants to repeat. You are the opposite of self-aware. You are messy, and reckless, and selfless whenever it counts and it’s confusing because all I can really hate you for is being able to get away with being imperfect and still be adored by everyone.

But none of those words, thankfully, leave her head. All she says is, “Your approach to discipline confuses me. It’s not like he purposely tried to run into me—ten points might have been too harsh.”

“This coming from the girl who once threatened to curse me into oblivion for tripping her when we were twelve?” Kara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who are you and what have you done to Lena Luthor? No, hold on, I know. You’re really Jess in disguise, right?”

“Hilarious, Danvers. I wouldn’t quit Quidditch, it might be the only place you’re suited for,” Lena mocks, but all Kara does is laugh.

“Nope, definitely Lena,” Kara says, and the way she says it is almost…fond. Come to think of it, Lena can’t remember a time where Kara actually called her Lena. It’s always Luthor and Danvers and stop breaking the faces of my best players and never—never anything else.

Lena clears her throat and looks away; she can’t take another second of those warm, bright eyes. “Whatever,” she says. “I…guess I’ll see you on the pitch.”

“Sure thing,” Kara says, and she takes a step back, tucking her wand into her pocket. “I’ll be the one rocking the winning team uniform.”

Slowly, Lena begins to feel the corner of her mouth twitch. Completely unbidden, completely unpredictable. “Dream on, Danvers.” She allows the space between them to grow, but their eyes remain locked, and the air feels heavy—thick—and the weight of their shared gaze holds a meaning Lena can’t possibly unpack right now.

But Kara’s tongue pokes out between her teeth cheerfully, and she doesn’t appear half as bothered by this development. “Always, if you’re in them,” she says, twists a little on her heel to walk away, but she pauses while she is still in earshot. “You know—next time you can just thank me for defending you.”

“You mean abusing your power as a prefect,” Lena replies automatically even as her head is running a mile a minute; even as Kara is getting farther and farther away and the scratch on her glasses lens catches the light.

“That too!” Kara shouts as she gets lost in the crowd, and damn her, Lena has to put her hand over her mouth to hide the absolute idiotic smile that has formed on her own face.

(Joint blame indeed, Lena muses, and she figures that she might as well form a rivalry with the Slytherins instead of the Gryffindors after all).

[ro-visiting-the-bureau]

TCR BDB 2022 - Day 1: Dress

So I thought I wouldn’t have anything for the BDB this year (life, you know), but then cursed inspiration struck and I typed this up super fast. Will I look back at this in a week and call is trash? Probably. But I had fun writing it, and I love bringing this cursed in-joke back.

~~~

Baron resolutely kept his back to the wall. Nothing, absolutely nothing at all, was going to make him move from this spot. 

The mission had been so simple on paper. Infiltrate the ball, distract the puffin count so Haru and Louise could find the evidence of his plans to start a war between the Bird, Cat and Dog Kingdoms, and reveal him to be a traitor in front of the Bird Court. So simple they’d be able to improvise just about any part of it and still succeed.

What he had not been expecting was the… attire. The theme of the party had been sweaters, and while he had had plenty of them that would suit just fine, they had somehow gotten misplaced after arriving at the Cat Kingdom Palace to get ready. The handmaids had said they had a perfect backup outfit for him, but truly he couldn’t help but feel like someone was playing a joke on him. 

The lilac sweater dress, if it could even be called that, was completely open in the back, held up only by ribbons tied at the back of his neck, and the skirt was so short he was almost scared to sit down. Silver sandals were on his feet amd finishing the “look” was a bright red trilby hat with three different colored feathers, canary yellow, electric blue and fuschia pink. It was such a strange ensemble, even for animal kingdom nobility, he could still feel glances from the various bird, cats and dogs attending the party even in his corner. Every once in a while, someone would approach to chat, but most seemed to be so distracted by the outfit the conversations were invariably short.

“Having fun, Baron?”

Baron looked up at Toto, the crow having gotten away with wearing a simple dark blue and silver sweater vest for his outfit. “Please tell me Haru and Louise are close to finding the evidence.”

“They headed up to Duke Puff’s chambers about ten minutes ago. I expect we have another five before they sneak in or come back being chased by guards.”

Baron huffed. “At least they’re enjoying themselves.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a grump, that’s Muta’s job.” Toto smiled and waved down a drink server. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I hope so.” Baron accepted a glass of sparkling water from the waiter. “I’m not sure this night could get worse for me.” 

Of course, that was when the universe proved he should have kept such thoughts to himself, for not a minute later, Persephone came over, her bright yellow sweater dress bold against her calico fur. 

“Dance floor, now.” She grabbed Baron’s wrist and started tugging him away from the wall.

“What? Persephone, what are you doing?” Baron tried to find purchase on the wall, but it’s cool comfort ws quickly left behind.

“Puff was about to head to his quarters until I convinced him to have a dance of himself, me and Archduke Ferdinand and our partners on the floor. Since Louise is currently busy snooping, you’re my second choice.”

For a half second, Baron felt offended to be a second choice. Then reality caught up, and he once again tried to pull away. “Persephone, please!”

“Sorry Baron, but it’s either you or Muta, and he’s been scarfing catnip jelly treats.” Before another protest could be made, they were pushing through the crowd of courtiers and entering the cleared dancefloor, the only other occupants being Duke Puff and his husband Sir Gull, and Archduke Ferdinand and his wife Lady Charlotte. The spaniels thankfully only gave a cursory glance and nod before assuming their starting position, but the sea birds stared for a long moment before following suit, then Persphone wrangled Baron into position. 

“Relax, will you? I thought you liked being the center of attention,” the former Cat Queen teased. 

“Usually that comes from my actions and not my wardrobe,” Baron said, then the music started and they were off in the waltz. 

The steps of the dance came as easy as breathing, but the whole time Baron could feel the eyes on him, specifically his open back. It was strange, that he could be perfectly fine stripped down to pants for various reasons, but this made him feel much more exposed. His ears picked up whispers, though only certain words like “dress” and “so daring” were audible, and he could feel the skin under his fur flush.

“Don’t self-combust now,” Persephone warned as they spun in towards the center of the dance floor, closer to the other two couples. 

“Might be too late for that,” Baron said, as his ears picked up “If only it was a bit lower…”

Like a flip of a switch, Baron’s back suddenly lit up with bright golden light. A couple of the guests behind him, as well as Duke Puff and Lady Charlotte, yelped in shock, and Persephone leaned back, blinking away spots from her vision. Across the ballroom, Muta’s riotous laughter rang out. 

“That’s one way to use your light show, Baron!” he called out, before Toto smacked him with a wing and the fat cat turned to tussle with the crow. 

Luckily, the attention on him only lasted a few moments, as Haru and Louise slammed open the ballroom doors, papers clutched in their hands and guards on their tails. Baron took the distraction and bolted for the balcony, vaulting over the railing and into the garden a half-story below. He did not stop running until he made it back to the carriage that had brought them to the Duke’s manor, the light only disappearing once he was settled against the seat. He did not move an inch until the rest of the Bureau returned after settling the mess inside, and only after Muta took off his sweater and dropped it over him. 

He was never trusting the handmaids with his wardrobe again. 

[archangelsquill]

to hell and back || damien darkblood x reader 

pairing: damien darkblood x partner reader (gn, no y/n)

fandom: invincible

word count: 1448

summary: after omni-man flees earth and things begin to settle down, cecil feels he owes you -- the demon detective’s partner in solving crime -- a favor.

warnings: none

a/n: a sequel to this. darkblood deserves better, and by the gods, i’m giving it to him! enjoy, my fellow simps.

———

“If anything happens to them, on your head it will be, Cecil!”

Those were the final words of the demon as the pits of hell called him home, and as Cecil met his gaze, he knew it was no threat. It was a promise, and though he considered himself a bastard, Cecil saw no need to keep you in danger. He knew without Darkblood around, you were a target for Nolan. He’d already had security detail on you, but against Omni-Man, he knew it was useless. If he ever decided he wanted you dead, there’d be nothing stopping him.

Then, if Cecil was lucky (or maybe unlucky) to stay out of the warpath, he’d have Darkblood breathing down his neck, even with such distance between this world and his.

Sending him back to Hell wasn’t something Cecil wanted to do. It was a necessity. He owed him big time for that, and he’d start with keeping you off Nolan’s radar.

The official report was that you’d gone to stay with an imaginary Aunt Sue, somewhere in the Dakotas, but the reality was you were to be kept in the Global Defense Agency Headquarters -- well hidden, out of sight, and away from Nolan Grayson.

No one told you a thing. You’d been in your apartment, waiting for Damien to show up with those coffees he’d promised. Evidence, photos, and papers of theories and notes were scattered around the small space, occupying every inch of surface area, as you paced, a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach growing stronger and stronger the longer your demon detective was away. Something was wrong, and as Cecil Stedman appeared suddenly before you, making you jump out of your skin, you knew for sure. 

“You’re the demon’s partner, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. I guess you’re Cecil.”

“You guess right. You need to come with us.”

“Why?”

“You’re not safe anymore.”

“What?”

“I can’t answer your questions now. Pack a bag. You won’t be coming back for a while.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t have a choice.

The Global Defense Agency took care of your monthly expenses while you were gone, as if that made any of this less scary or confusing. All you’d been told was Damien was back in Hell, Cecil put him there, and you were in danger.

No one told you much else. Cecil had acted civil toward you -- kind, even -- but it didn’t help. Damien was gone, it was Cecil’s fault, and life may never be normal again.

All because you two asked questions.

Because you wanted the truth.

And you both had paid the price: freedom.

Meanwhile, Omni-Man roamed free, ready to kill again.

You lost count of how long you’d been at GDA HQ when Nolan finally struck.

Initially, you’d been barred from the control room, but Cecil let you choose to watch the chaos or stay blind to it.

You choose not to watch. No one needed you to be in the room when all of the ruin, disaster, and chaos you and Damien knew would happen happened. Based on what Cecil told you after, you were glad you decided to stay out of it.

All of those innocent people, now dead. All of that destruction. All of that carnage, and for what? Omni-Man had fled.

It was for nothing.

And Debbie…

You’d offered as much comfort as you could. You knew how it felt to lose a loved one (it took all you had not to look pointedly at Cecil when you told her that) and the woman needed someone to lean on. Someone not quite so cold as Cecil.

And he’d watched you. Despite everything, you comforted Debbie and Mark, putting on a brave face as if you haven’t lost everything, too. Cecil knows you’re still hurting -- why wouldn’t you be?

Cecil was many things, and a man who paid his debts was absolutely one of them.

He’d been searching since he put Darkblood back in Hell for it: the spell to undo what he did. To summon him back. His plan was always to bring him back, if such a thing existed. He’d had his people looking for months with no luck, and he’d already given you the all clear to go home, with the promise your rent and utilities were paid for until you could get back on your feet.

Yeah. Right. How the fuck do you do that? Your partner -- not only in profession but your partner -- was gone, your office had been trashed, and your apartment felt so empty it was somehow suffocating.

For weeks after you’d returned, you’d laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling, jumping at any change in the temperature, hoping one day you’d look up and see him, only to find it was the apartment complex’s shitty circulation.

The news talked about things going back to normal, yet normal sounded like a foreign language now. How was the world supposed to be any kind of normal again?

Cecil made a few visits to check on you, but you regarded him with coldness that could rival that of Damien’s. He couldn’t blame you.

You’d lost track of the days when the sigh that escaped your lips was accompanied by a small fog. You froze, sitting up from your temporary home on the couch before exhaling again. Just to be sure.

And there it was again: the small visage of your breath indicating the decrease in temperature you’d been ignoring out of lost hope.

“Damien…?”

“Yes, amare?” the gruff baritone was music to your ears as you turned toward your kitchen. There he was: red, large, and intimidating -- yet that soft look in his gaze remained, as if no time at all had passed.

“Damien!” you leapt over the couch, nearly tumbling to the ground before two strong arms grab you, pulling you into the warmest yet coldest bear hug you’ve ever gotten.

“Sorry for delay. Had to...speak with Cecil...” he rumbles, clawed hand carding through your hair, “Need to be ‘debriefed’ but...had to see you.”

“I can tell you what you missed.” you mumble, burying your face in his arms. He pulls you tighter still, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Later,” he says.

And for a moment -- how long, you’re not sure -- you both just sit there on the living room floor, holding each other in a silent, loving embrace. Tears stream down your face, stinging from the cold emanating from Damien. His hand moves to brush them away, and the contact makes you cry more. You missed him. It had been so long.

After what felt like forever, you part -- just enough to look at each other. He, of course, looks no different. Demons didn’t age like humans did. You, however, probably look like shit. You hadn’t looked in a mirror in forever, but you knew your hair was much longer. You hadn’t bothered to get it cut in...how long had it been? It wasn’t like you could’ve gotten it cut, anyway. The city had been rebuilding, and getting anywhere was...well, hell.

“Beautiful as the day I lost you,” he says, and your tears well up again.

“I know I look like shit, Damien,” you say, trying to laugh off the sudden absence of your grief. He smiles slightly -- a rare sight.

“To me you look like heaven, amare,” he replies.

Amare. His nickname for you. You think its Latin, but you’ve never looked into what it means. You never asked, either, assuming he’d just tell you one day.

But you almost lost him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look into it after he was gone, and now that he was here again….you decide to ask.

“You’ve called me that since we became partners. What does it mean?”

“Supposed to be a detective.” he replies. His own attempt at a joke, you muse. You’re in no mood for it.

“Damien, please.”

He looks at you fondly, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“Love. It means love.”

You should’ve figured, yet you find yourself crying again, and his arms wrap tighter around you in a protective, loving embrace.

There was more to be said between you two. You both know it. What happened to Damien in Hell? How did everything with Nolan go down here? Now that Cecil knew how to banish and summon Damien as he pleased, what would become of your demon detective?

All need answers. Resolutions.

But not now.

Now was the time for healing: for the world, for humanity, and for you and your demon in that tiny apartment.

You had him back, and though so much hangs in the air, that was enough.

[ezwhump]

Russell & Lennon - Bath  - pet whump, injuries, vague-ish nudity, trained response

Steam lifted from the water in the tub, cloying the air in the bathroom. Russell dipped his hand into the water to his elbow, testing the temperature at the bottom and pushing some of the hotter water to the other end. He didn’t want to add any bath salts or scented bubble bath to it just in case it irritated Lennon’s wounds. 

Lennon stood by the sink, eyes darting around the bathroom, chewing on his lip. He’d done a decent job getting from the car to the bathroom, only occasionally stumbling and whispering hoarse apologies. Russell was slightly taken aback when he heard the kid speak, and then again when he picked up on the soft southern accent. 

“Should be alright. There are towels in the cupboard, and all the soaps are in the wall.” He gestured to the row of bottles and pumps hooked into the tiling above the tub, searching Lennon’s face for any sort of sign that he understood. 

“Do you need help with anything?” 

Lennon shook his head furiously, swaying a little, seeming coltish standing on two feet, like he wasn’t used to it. His knees were a patchwork of fresh and healing bruises, and it made Russell's stomach turn just looking at them. It was tame, comparatively, to the angry red tearing at Lennon’s throat from the collar. Russell wanted to crush that thing under an anvil the second he had time to spare, but for now it was still sitting in the trunk of his car.

“Right. Well, I’ll be just outside if you need anything, my office is down the hall. Just yell.” 

Lennon nodded, his fists knotted into his shirt, twisting and pulling. 

Russell lingered.

“Are you sure?” Lennon nodded again, and Russell took that as a solid enough cue, leaving the bathroom door ajar.

“Thank y’sir.” 

--- The cursor blinked on the screen.

- No birth records / ID 

- Age: looks around 19? Not sure. 

- Diet: unknown. Not fucking kibble.

- Allergies: unknown

- Injuries: neck, knees, scarring, wrists. Haven’t checked anywhere else. Schedule a doctors visit. A vet? 

- Set up a bed. Probably in your room 

- Cancel tomorrow’s meetings 

- Show Lennon around 

- Double check legality/paperwork 

- Call Pete 

Russell wiped a hand over his face, pushing away from the desk. Listening. He’d left the office door open  so that once Lennon was done he wouldn’t have to knock or get the wrong room. Occasionally, he’d hear the echo of a splash, or water dripping into water, and it assuaged him some. He wanted to give Lennon privacy, but the paranoia was grating as the hour passed. 

Another hour went by, and around 8:30 Russell cracked, getting up from his chair and trying not to run the few feet to the bathroom.

The light was out. Russell searched for it, flicking it on. Lennon was shaking in the tub, his head tipped back against the taps, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut. The water was murky and cold, the soaps untouched.

“Jesus.” Russell pulled out the towels and held it up. “You can come out, it's okay. Shit, I’m so sorry. Why the hell were you in the dark?”

Lennon got up out of the water, practically falling into the outstretched towel, and Russell wrapped him in it, picking up another and palming it over his wet hair. It was still matted, reeking of the trailer. 

“Hold on, I’ll drain it out and run another one.” 

It took all of fifteen minutes, while the water ran and the tub filled, for Russell to cut out the mats in Lennon’s hair. He moved gently, carefully, sectioning each piece out, occasionally petting down the back of Lennon’s neck when he got too nervous about the noise the scissors made. Lennon seemed to like that, the petting. 

He probably hasn’t had a single kind touch in years. Especially not with that godawful collar on. Not in that trailer.

He also seemed more comfortable on the floor, Russell noticed. He’d dropped to his knees on the rug when Russell took a seat on the toilet and gestured between his legs for Lennon to sit. The easy obedience made Russell prickle.

“All done. Let's get you washed.” 

There wasn’t any room to be bashful, and Russell tried to take it in his stride, using a fresh cloth and soap to wipe most of the grime off the kid, visoring his eyes with a hand when it was time to wash and rinse his hair, and only using clean, colder water to clean the cuts and tears. After a few run-throughs, Lennon’s hair was clean, and when Russell dried him over again, he noticed it was wispy. Soft and downy like feathers. Other things came to his attention; moles dotting Lennon’s neck and chest, a few on his forearms. Piercing holes, two in each earlobe. A tagging number on his neck. 

Russell brought in clean clothes as quickly as he could, tugging an old college shirt over Lennon's head, finishing with the boxers and sweatpants. They were huge on him, puddling around his ankles, the shoulder seams half-way down his arms. Russell would take him shopping tomorrow, then. It was the easiest thing in the world to toss Lennon’s old rags in the trash.

“Looking good, kid.” Russell grinned, running his fingers through Lennon’s hair again, just to check for any more matted pieces. Just to touch it again, really.

Lennon pushed into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, and he made a soft, unwilling noise in his mouth. Russell dropped his hand and Lennon snapped to attention, automatically dropping to his knees and dipping his head till it touched Russell’s bare feet. Prostrated and repentant.

Russell took a few staggering steps back and knelt down in front of Lennon, checking his face. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? You didn’t do anything. Hey.”

Lennon was whimpering a little, shrinking into himself and breathing hard. Like he was bracing himself for something. 

I should’ve set that trailer ablaze. 

“It’s okay.” Russell took Lennon’s face, so small between his hands, and rested his forehead against Lennon’s, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing so the kid had something to focus on. 

Once Lennon was matching him, breath for breath, Russell moved back slowly, dropping his hands to his lap. Lennon stared at the tile, and Russell could see the pulse in the kid’s throat. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.” 

Lennon nodded solemnly, twisting his hands up into his shirt again. Clearly he wasn’t convinced. Russell couldn’t blame him. He stood up, helping Lennon up onto shaky legs.

“You hungry?”

“No, sir.” Lennon seemed resolute, grimacing slightly.

“You tired?” 

Lennon shook his head, but it was more sluggish than before. He wasn’t supposed to admit to it, Russell realized. 

“Christ, c’mon. You can stay in my room tonight, and we’ll figure something out in the morning.”

--

tags: @deluxewhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @highwaywhump

thank you for all the love on my last post, it means the world to have such talented people read my stuff ;-; <3 hope you enjoy this one!

[1kook]

commercial break ; ONE

a netflix & chill drabble  this follows directly after disney+ and bust !

summary; Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same. warnings; none unless u count yn bullying him as one miscellaneous; yn is regina george thats it word count; 1.3k

notes; u guys may be like “u feed us so well!” wrong i obsessively post bc I'm never satisfied with my work, like in d&b i really disliked the lack of resolution so here i am writing one the day after god bless lmk what u think xxxx

Because Jungkook is Jungkook and cannot go three minutes without profusely professing his feelings to you, the apology gets old real quick.

“I’m sorry, y’know,” he says in the middle of dinner, idly picking at his plate. It’s Chinese tonight, sprawled across the kitchen counter that overlooks your living room. The Bee Movie is playing on TV, a movie you hadn’t seen in years yet still managed to put a smile on your face. But you know what wasn’t putting a smile on your face? Jungkook ruining this movie experience with his fourth apology of the night.

You nod through a mouthful of rice, eyes zeroed in on the screen. “Uh huh,” you hum, foot idly bumping against the leg of your chair every few seconds. “That’s great, honey.”

He sighs. “I’m being serious,” he stresses. “I think, maybe you should like…” a long pause you use to shovel more food into your mouth while the bees on screen go to human court. It was a wild ride. Were they on crack when they pitched this idea? You would have been. “Punch me in the face or something,” he offers after a moment.

You quirk a brow in his direction, finally abandoning the film on screen in favor of turning to face him. “You want me to use you as a punching bag to help you get over your hurt feelings that you developed from being an asshole to me.” Jungkook nods. You shrug. “Okay.”

“Wait, really?” he says, face paling as you roll your shoulder around. “You’re gonna hit me? Like for real?” You raise your brows, as if that’s obviously what you’re going to do.

“Well, you asked for it,” you respond, giving your wrist one final flick before rearing it back. His eyes flutter shut tightly, pouty lips pursed together in a thin line. Your fist comes barreling, ripping through the air in an insane, Fortune 500-like speed, and then—

“No,” Jungkook groans, touching the spot where you lightly flicked his forehead. His bangs saved him from most of the impact, but even without it, it was barely more than a teasing poke of your finger against his skin. “You need to like, beat me up.”

You snort, turning your attention back to the screen. “You know, you’re beginning to sound a lot like me these days, Jungkookie,” you point out, fork scraping across the plate. Jungkook sighs, dropping his head onto the countertop in defeat. “Very childish.”

He lightly bangs his head across the faux marble, a strained whimper filling the air and ruining The Bee Movie. “Which is why you need to hit me or something, I don’t know. Make me pay for how horrible I was to you the other day.”

“I’m not gonna hit you,” you say, “because that would mean the next time you get mad at me, you’d hit me.”

“I would never!” he exclaims, eyes wide and round. Gone was the perfectly put together Jungkook, in was this sloppy mess of emotions. “Besides,” he says softly, cheeks a warm rosy color as he goes back to picking at his food, “you’d never wrong me like I did you.”

You hum, toying with the fork in your mouth. “Really,” you murmur, dropping the fork back on the table. You place your chin in your palm, lazily watching the movie now that you’ve missed a pivotal scene because Jungkook wanted you to beat him up. “I used your toothbrush the other day,” you mention.

Silence.

“You what?” he squawks indignantly. You glance at him from your peripherals. There’s an obvious expression of disgust on his features, eyes flickering from side to side as he digests this information. “Babe—that’s, that’s actually really…” He can’t even finish his sentence, mouth opening and closing as he finally seems to process the fact your mouth germs were on his beloved toothbrush.

“Yup,” you add. “Hope you don’t mind,” you babble on, “well, I mean, you really shouldn’t.” You glance at him, the mean streak in you crooning loudly in your ear the more and more uncomfortable he grows. “Considering you’re always spitting in my mouth.”

As wild as you and Jungkook liked to get in bed, what happened in bed mostly stayed in bed. It sounds gross to say it aloud, but he really has just been casually spitting in your mouth for the past few months. He was a dirty boy, and that fact makes him squirm.

“No, that’s different,” he frowns, obviously distraught by the valid point you bring to the table. “My toothbrush is my toothbrush.”

“I know,” you agree, nudging his foot teasingly. “Should I tell you about all the other mean stuff I do to your things that I never say sorry for?” He turns those frantic eyes on you.

“You’re lying,” he says, though there’s a question embedded within. You tilt your head to the side, as if to say, am I?.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you jump into a full novel recapture of every mean thing you’ve done and why. “And one time I was so pissed off that you finished my strawberry shampoo that I went to your house and drained the water from that stupid cactus’s pot. You know, the one Namjoon gave you?” Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes. “Why do you think it died so fast? I killed it.”

Before he can reprimand you for purposefully orchestrating the murder of his favorite senpai’s potted cactus, you’re intercepting him with yet another tale. “And another time, I was so sick of you polishing your awards all day that I went in and sprinkled a layer of adhesive pixie dust on them from the craft store, and I know it still bothers you to this day.”

“Jeez,” he sighs after a good ten parables. “It sounds like I piss you off a lot more than I think I do.”

You pat his shoulder gently, scraping the remnants of his meal into the trash can. “Yeah, but the difference is,” you say, finding your place beside him again. You don’t climb into your chair, just hover beside him until he’s begrudgingly wrapping his arms around your waist. There’s a cute pout on him, face squished against your boobs. “I routinely let out all my raging hatred against you instead of bottling it up.”

“Yeah,” he agrees sadly. “I guess so.”

Before you can let him off believing this much is fine, you intervene once more. “And also I never purposefully pick out everything you’re insecure about.”

“I didn’t know,” he cries, all traces of that suave gentlemen you love so much gone. But it’s okay, because in his place was this vulnerable puppy looking at you with the eyes of every rescue pop in those dramatic commercials on tv. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same.

“Well, now you do,” you reprimand, giving his nose a playful pinch that almost makes him sneeze. “And I think it’s only fair I get a turn.”

He pushes away from his hiding spot in your boobs with a frown. “So you won’t physically attack me, but you will verbally attack me.”

“Yes,” you respond without missing a beat. “Because you’re easy to bully and it’s probably because of the fact you didn’t have many friends in high school, which essentially made you the class loner, thus an easy target. Explains why Namjoon had to set you up on a date with someone as amazing and outgoing as me, otherwise you would have died forever alone because of your inability to talk to women and the fact you have an awfully picky personality that can be overwhelming at times. So thank me once in a while, yeah?” you smile.

Jungkook blinks. “I think I might cry,” he admits.

You cup his cheeks in your hands, puckering his lips obnoxiously for you to smooch. “Baby, you’re dating a retired Regina George. Y’gotta tighten up a bit,” you tease, relish in the tiny smile he tries to hide after your kisses.

“So is this going to be like a thing now?” he asks as you tug him over to the couch, where The Bee Movie is still playing loud and clear. He plops down and you follow, snuggling into his side. “Because I don’t think I can ever do that again. Hurting your feelings hurts my feelings.”

You snort, taking in his smell and his warmth beside you. Jungkook sinks into the cushions, pulling you close into his chest until the soft beats of his heart echo in your ears. “No— unless you want it to be?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[ruinsofxerxes]

What bothers me about Mei is that she never even tried to get to know Ed as a person. She goes from objectifying him to villanizing without 0 input from Ed himself. Like when Mei sees him as the Fullmetal Alchemist for the first time Ed just had a really rough few days: the fight with Scar, Winry's breakdown, the fight with Gluttony, Winry's departure, Lan Fan's injury, another fight with Gluttony and Envy, getting stuck in Gluttony's stomach and starving, fight again with Envy, the revelation about Xerxes and the Ishvalan war, finding a solution to a supposedly unsolvable problem, human transmutation of himself using human souls, being deconstructed and getting knowledge crammed into his brain again, seeing Truth and Al's body, realizing his dad's twin is the evil behind all the horror, his evil uncle turning off their alchemy, seeing Greed taking over Ling. That is a huge amount of physical and emotional stress with little or no rest in between. He's hurt and tired, he's being pinned by giant Envy and in comes this girl he's only seen once before defending Scar and starts screaming at him about breaking her heart and physically attacking him. I know it was supposed to be funny and we should think that her selfish and toxic behavior is cute, but I could never see it that way. She decides in this moment without actually talking to him that Ed is worthless, because his appearance is dirty after going through all this suffering and he's not as tall as she assumed, so she treats him as trash from then on and refuses to take her filter off for even a minute. This is a pretty big character flaw of hers for me.

I just hope Alphonse will put her straight at some point on this, since he knows and loves his brother. I'm missing the resolution / exploration of this from fanfictions and I'd like to see Mei admitting to this, maybe saying sorry to Ed and actually getting to know him as a person. If you or anyone knows a fic about this topic, I'd be very thankful for the suggestion. I hope you have a nice day!

I don’t think she really villainizes him or thinks he’s worthless. Yeah, her reaction to him being “ugly” was definitely over the top and it definitely crushed her fantasies about him, but as the series goes on, she DOES see Ed as a person, not just her ruined fantasy, and they become allies. Ed has definitely moved past it, he barely knew what was going on to begin with, I don’t think he really cared what some random 12 year old girl thought about him because we never see him bring it up, he kinda had bigger things to worry about.

They weren’t exactly friends, all things considered, she was sided with Scar and Ed and Al were still against him. I’m the beginning, yeah, she does call Ed “It” when talking to Al at Dr. Knox’s which is savage and sees him as an evil little thing but it was only a day or two after she first truly met Ed, she was probably still scorned and it wasn’t enough time for her to mature. At the same time, Ed and Al were still referring to her as “that girl” so I think they just....didn’t even think about her much until they needed her alkahestry

Weeks if not months pass before they meet again. When they do, all Mei does is tell Ed he “isn’t her type” which isn’t a bad thing for her to do?? She doesn’t call him ugly or worthless or anything.

And Ed doesnt seem to care either what she thinks of him, he just wants her knowledge. There doesnt seem to be any animosity from him about what happened (and he finally started calling her by her name lol)

After this, they don’t interact again until the promised day. Months have passed, Mei has grown and matured. We see her begin to form a real friendship with Al and not just have a crush on him. She definitely grows as a person, and she never treats Ed poorly or says anything bad about him again, she hasn’t really since the few days after their interaction in father’s lair.

Let’s not forget SHE saved Ed’s life with Alphonse. And then vehemently apologized to Ed afterward for helping Al. Ed comforts her by saying it wasn’t her fault. If she thought Ed was worthless, she wouldn’t have sacrificed Al, who she loved so much, to save Ed’s life.

Again, no animosity or villainizing between either of them. Even from Ed after what she helped al do.

She even cheered him on when he fought father!!!

And was sad to leave them, saying they’d meet again someday (this might have been directed toward Al, but she didn’t specifically say Alphonse, so think it was toward them both, but more for Al haha)

So idk where you’re getting that she’s toxic and treats Ed like he’s worthless. They might not be friends but by the end they have some sort of respect and allyship. They definitely traded some slight insults during the beginning of the series, but it was mutual, and seems to be only surface level, and they can work together and respect one another when it really matters. Additionally, if she really DID treat Ed badly, I don’t think Al would put up with that, be friends with her, and visit her when he goes to Xing.

Yeah, she definitely could have and should have apologized for freaking out on him when she found out who he was. But I don’t see any evidence that Ed even had that much thought about it after it happened. I think by the end they’ve both grown past that. Mei saw him as evil little caricatures like once or twice offhandedly, but the majority of the time she doesn’t treat him poorly?? She just treats Al with much more affection and respect. And I think as the series goes on, she matures and treats Ed with respect as well.

Idk any fics about that, sorry!! But I hope you have a nice day as well!!!! Also, unrelated, but while I was looking at manga pages, I found the cutest panel of Xiao Mei clinging to Dr. Marcoh

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Rainbow After The Storm Andy Biersack X Reader

Word Count: 1,129 

Waning: Angst

What if I told you, life was built to break?

What if I told you "If you love someone, set them free,If they come back they’re yours."

In perfect life; in perfect place.

Every dream was mine to lose,

And that's what it took to lead me back to you.

What had actually happened?

It was all a blur almost the yelling, things being thrown across the room.

Honestly they had both gone through worse.

They felt the others pain on each other's skin.

The way Andy speaks almost breaks Y/N's heart. The sound of shattering glass fills the house,and that’s what makes her eyes widen. 

Y/N’s eyes stare at him she says nothing. She doesn’t have to, her gaze says it all. A thousand words are held in the gaze she bores into him, and Andy knows it, too.

She bites her lip and tighten her grip on the water bottle in her hand. The plastic crunches with the pressure,and she feels hot tears stinging at her eyes. It’s not fair.

Andy's POV…

I knew things were getting rocky between Y/N and I, what would he do to fix this?

My eyes wandered to the horizon the sun was just starting to rise,peeking out from behind white clouds and casting a shadow over the California horizon. 

I took my cigarette butt tossing it in the trash bin inside - and climbed out the window and up to the roof. 

2 ½ hours later...

Y/N entered the kitchen to throw away the trash in her hand just as I was climbing back in through the window.

“Are you sorry?” she asked, I reached for a lighter that had been thrown onto the counter and probably forgotten about for a while, waiting for use. “This keeps happening, Andy, every single time.”

I cringed at that point as I lit up a cigarette holding it between my fingers, speaking while I took a drag.

“But I mean it, I really am sorry! I mean it every time, (Y/N).”

What a damn lie.

“If you meant it, it wouldn’t keep fucking happening.” The words left her mouth in a hiss, I took a step back as she saw my expression shift to frustration.

“Well maybe if you believed me, things would be better. You always just run away to the roof instead of trying to resolve shit, and I’m tired of it!”

Now that pissed me off, with an angry huff I blew smoke from my lungs. “I don’t want to resolve things? Maybe I would if you stopped fucking getting into my shit." I yelled back at

"Maybe if you'd stop drinking so much you'd be a decent damn person Andy." 

The two of us started yelling over each other, blood boiling.

It was the issue, you knew it, and you had been trying so hard to whip the addiction. It was starting to push Y/N's limit with how bad Andy's drinking was turning out to be. 

I winced at the harsh yet true statement, a part of my heart shattered. 

Y/N's POV...

Andy's eyes looked full of pain,hurt,sorrow. They normally had a glint in them when they gazed upon me. A glint so full of love and hope that outdid the average human to even hold such a powerful look it could even murder. No ordinary being deserved to have that power, the kind that sweeps me off my feet and leaves me speechless every damn time.

Everything stood in silence: not a single car dare move along the street, nor  a person speak. It was a delicate silence that if anyone even moved it would shatter and impale either of us -like glass- and it would use the pain as a way to force us to remember how it feels. The silence would hold us down and laugh as it watches us try and scream because it has no remorse for anything or anyone that dares near it. 

Andy broke the silence first  "I'm sorry, my love."

"Don't say that."

Andy broke at this. He needed to say it. To him it was true. Y/N was his love, his life, his world; he meant it with every fibre of his being. Without Y/N , he wouldn't have made it this far so Y/N meant everything to him.

The hole torn open in.Y/N chest feels infinite, as if the vast blackness of space suddenly splits open and begins to suck the sky out. Being married to Andy at first was amazing but during that four years it was at the 3 year mark his drinking began. The fighting was a common occurrence almost daily and the two of us drifted further and further apart. A deep ache and void taking residence where her heart once was. 

Once so  cheery our life together. I miss those days but love and happiness dissolves, print without fixer, a past without present, images faded to shadow. My sadness at what came.across as a sort of betrayal: not mine, the cosmic kind that destines us to be confined to the corridor of our own pain, never glimpsing at each other to notice it.

Vision restricted by the enlarged perimeter of self. Where to begin? How to forge words that join two pasts so fractured within themselves, edges abutting? 

What do about our marriage? Where do.we began? Tears now dropping despite I was trying.so hard not to cry again. So much of forg3 boils down to fear. Not one of the seven deadly sins, but surely the most potent of mine. Fear of not knowing if we can get back to the way we once were. Fear of not knowing if we can get back to being so much in love as if nothing had made the impact it had. Self-centeredness and even feeling unsure.

I look right at Andy. You’re not so different. We all have pain.

Yes, Y/N, we do. He responded and for the first time in a long time calm. No yelling, no arguing,.no.glass shattering.

Suffering. Struggle. Separately shared. Little resolutions, he says. Little reconciliations. What you would call the spark of the divine. That’s what I think we get here, in this life, on earth. I reach out my hand, resting it on Andy's shoulder. We both lean toward each other and with a strong yet firm movement he pulls me.close to him. With effort, I meet his eyes not surprisingly we feel in love all over again as if we had never stopped. "I love you Andy Biersack today, tomorrow and forever even when I die I'll never stop."  "Neither will I baby girl…. neither will I." 

[alexzalben]

When Betty was scrubbing herself in the shower after her encounter with btk that was probably the saddest I have ever been for her. The amount of stuff thrown at her (and I know, a lot of the other characters as well) is mind blowing. I think diving into a mental health/healing arc with her is necessary atp but also it’s Riverdale so who knows if it will be handled well. Do you think we will see a satisfying resolution for her in that sense? Or will she go to therapy one time and everything will be fine because they will have whoever her partner is at the time ‘fix’ her? Sorry this isn’t a ship related question😂.

Oh, it's fine. I love plot related/emotion related questions, particularly because most of the time when people ask me "is this endgame" my answer is the exact same. I really do hope we get a good, emotional resolution to the Trash Bag Killer storyline, particularly because we've gotten the same for Jughead's trauma, and Archie's trauma. Veronica's seemed to be pretty much okay, though she dealt with it in her way. Betty is the only one we haven't seen really move past what happened to her, and that seems to be a big thing they could hit for her going forward.

[wonhaebunny]

small drabble about traitor kiri!!!!

-

if you asked katsuki to pinpoint the day that he realised eijirou was the traitor, he wouldn’t be able to. there was no specific moment, no great revelation, no grand confrontation with movie-style crying and thrown furniture. there were just hints. tiny, inconsequential things that wouldn’t alone be enough to suggest anything, but added together they spoke volumes. late night phone calls, odd mannerisms, bad moods. 

late at night, when he would retch into the trash can with eijirou’s hand firm on his shoulder, the red-head would say, “i’m sorry.”

for what, katsuki should have asked. but he knew the answer. so instead he just rasped a scratchy, “shut up.” into the bin, and they didn’t speak again.

and so he ignored it. he pretended not to see the signs, even when they were glaring him in the face. he convinced himself that if he didn’t talk about it, it would go away.

because katsuki is a coward like that, when it really matters. 

maybe that’s why when katsuki enters homeroom weeks later to tense silence and a certain student’s empty seat, he doesn’t say anything.

instead, he walks over to his desk and sits down, fingers clenching into the straps of his backpack.

the class watches.

“bakugou.” aizawa-sensei says finally, after a few moments in which it’s made clear that no one else wants to speak.

“i was just discussing something with the class.”

katsuki resolutely ignores the empty seat to his right, ignores his classmates eyes on him. 

coward, his brain hisses traitorously. 

he ignores that too.

“we received some news last night.” aizawa-sensei says cautiously. there’s something soft in his voice, like he’s speaking to a wounded animal, and it’s so unlike him that katsuki wants to laugh.

“bakugou.” aizawa-sensei says again. “kirishima was…”

and then katsuki raises his head, ever-so-slightly. just enough that his teacher can meet his eyes.

he’s not sure what type of expression he’s wearing right now, or what aizawa-sensei sees. but it’s enough to have the man’s words catching in his throat, body stiffening subconsciously.

katsuki holds his gaze, throat thick. they watch each other in silence for a moment, and the class sits unmoving. 

and then...

“you knew.” aizawa-sensei says. slowly, like he’s turning the words over in his head. “you already knew. didn’t you.”

it’s not a question, so katsuki doesn’t answer it.

“okay.” the teacher says. the word comes out quiet and hoarse. the man straightens and clears his throat. “okay.” he tries again, louder this time. “have you all finished your homework worksheets?”

the class jolts, gazes flickering between the two of them in mute confusion. the unspoken question hangs in the air of, that’s it?

the question goes ignored, and the lesson begins. katsuki spends the next hour completing his work quietly as 19 stares burn into the side of his face. 

 he’s taken to be questioned after class, sat down at a table with a detective with a truth quirk at the other end.

“did you know that kirishima eijirou was the traitor?” the detective, naomasa, asks.

“i don’t know.” katsuki answers.

“i need a clear answer, yes or no. did you know kirishima eijirou was the traitor?” the man repeats.

katsuki swallows, mouth dry and eyes glued to the metal tabletop in front of him.

“i don’t know.” he says again, tonelessly.

the detective gives him a stern look, but softens when he sees katsuki’s expression. the blonde wonders what he must look like right now, to be gaining such sympathy. it must be pathetic.

“are you working with the league of villains?” 

“no.”

that answer comes easy to katsuki. the detective nods, making a marking in his notepad.

“have you been in any communications with members of the league of villains since your kidnapping?”

another easy question.

katsuki is opening his mouth to answer when naomasa cuts him off quickly.

“my apologies, let me clarify. have you been in communications with any member of the league of villains other than kirishima eijirou since your kidnapping?”

oh.

katsuki flinches at that, hard enough that his chair rattles with the movement. his consciousness, which had previously been drifting elsewhere, is suddenly jolted back to his body at the question.

he realises, with distant self-hatred, that he has been in contact with a villain all this time. the USJ, the sports festival, the kidnapping. all this time his best friend, his only friend, had been one of them.

he thinks back to those countless nights he’d sat awake at night, with eijirou by his side. he’d cried into the red-head’s shoulders, had let him see him at his lowest points. 

the villains probably got a good laugh out of it, he supposes. sitting back at their hideout, as eijirou told them all about how katsuki had sobbed like a baby, crying into the shoulder of the very person who had hurt him.

it’s a ridiculously amusing thought to katsuki, in this moment.

how pathetic he is.

how pitiful he must be, that the only person who’d even pretend to deem him worthy of friendship is a villain.

the realisation has a sharp, painful laugh tearing itself from his lips, acrid and utterly humourless.

naomasa’s eyes widen, and he leans back slightly at the sight.

“bakugou-kun?” he asks warily. 

katsuki’s gaze returns to the scratched metal table, and he’s suddenly made aware of the hot tears that sting at the corners of his eyes. another bitter huff escapes him.

“i want to go.” he says dully. “i’m done.”

naomasa lets him leave.

[joshuas]

sue me

♫ pairing: han jisung x gender neutral reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack, fluff, best friends to lovers

♫ word count: 3.9k

♫ warnings: nil of note!

♫ summary: just chaos and lawsuits?

♫ tagging: @fluffyskzclub​

♫ a/n: the seventh addition to my christmas drabbles! i don’t really know what i’m doing anymore ;-;

♫ skz christmas drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

The door jingled as three figures huddled through the store together,

“It’s so cold!” One of them — Jeongin, exclaimed, bringing your attention to them from your organising,

“Lucky it’s warm in here. Hey, guys!” You waved as they approached, looking at the display of records and CDs behind you.

“Y/N!” Jisung approached you first, pulling you in for your signature handshake.

The taller boy, Seungmin, scoffed, looking down on the two of you,

“I can’t believe the two of you still do that elaborate greeting.”

“You’re just salty that you haven’t been friends with someone since childhood and had the awesomeness to come up with something like this.” Jisung defended.

Bitterness bubbled in your stomach,

Right. Friends.

The two of you had established your friendship way back in daycare when you lent Jisung your crayons... reluctantly, at that. But you were kind of desperate to make friends, so you accepted his request. What you had underestimated though, were his motives. Jisung had no intention on actually giving your crayons back. Long story short, hair was pulled, paper was thrown, including scissors at one point, all resulting in Jisung eating your crayons so that you would never get them back. You had never been more shocked in your entire life... well you were two-years-old, so there wasn’t much that you had experienced. However, your parents, after hearing of this fight, insisted on taking you to visit Jisung in the hospital (he had just digested crayons, it’d be concerning if he didn’t at least get it checked out), giving him a CD of your favourite songs for him to listen to. How a two-year-old was supposed to appreciate that was beyond you, but when he came back to daycare with a set of colour pencils and drew pictures beside you, the two of you were inseparable since.

However, once you had gotten into university, the two of you had exchanged more than friendly comments, making you reconsider his place as your best friend after all. I mean, did he make your heart flutter? Yes. Did you miss him whenever he wasn’t around, even when he was being a pain? Yes. Was he incredibly talented, handsome and amazing that you couldn’t help but fall for him?... Yes! You had been trying to figure out ways to hint to him what you really thought of him, but he was about as clueless as Cher in the movie Clueless. And seeing as New Years was round the corner, you had resolved to yourself that you’d confess to him as one of your New Years resolutions... It was now just a question of how...

As Jisung pulled you in for the final part - a hug, you inhaled his familiar scent, interrupting your internal monologue, your mind calming from its racing, seconds before.

“How may I help you guys today?” You brushed your clothes, trying to maintain an air of professionalism.

“Jisung dragged us all the way here to get some of your famous ramen.” Jeongin explained, sighing.

“You came all the way to a music store... to try my ramen?” You asked confusedly.

“I don’t understand the logic behind it as well. But we did come all this way, in the snow as well.” Seungmin looked at you pointedly.

“...okay. Wait here, I’ll make it.”

“Oh my god, I love you Y/N,” Jisung called out as you went to the staff room, your heart skipping a beat at his comment.

Sighing, you turned on the kettle,

Why is he like this? How does crayon eating boy have this much power over me?

“Be careful, it’s hot!” You passed the steaming bowls of ramen and chopsticks to each of the boys, as the four of you sat around the till.

Bowl dangerously balanced on his elevated leg as he tried to pull apart the wooden chopsticks, Jisung flashed you a grateful smile,

“You know, Y/N, one day you’re going to make someone extremely happy with—“ He yelped as he jolted from the force of taking the wooden chopsticks apart, the bowl tipping off his leg and onto the carpeted floor. The red ramen soup soaking into the light carpet, staining it.

“Oh no! Y/N, I’m so sorry!” Jisung exclaimed, frantically grabbing at tissues from the counter, dabbing them on the ground.

You bit back a smile,

Of course, it was Jisung. But ugh it’s going to be a pain to get that dry cleaned...

“I might just have to sue you for that!” You said sarcastically.

Jisung looked at you wide-eyed,

“Oh! I— isn’t there anything else I can do? I can help out at the store for the rest of the break!” Jisung said frantically.

“Ohhh, no I’ll have to have sue you. Company policy.” You hid a smile, deciding to tease him further.

“Oh. Um, okay.” He blinked, unaware, “Let me just get a lawyer to represent me— Seungmin! You’re a lawyer, right? You need to represent me for this case.” Jisung grabbed Seungmin’s arm, looking at him pleadingly,

“I’ve literally only had one class and isn’t this a jo—“ Seungmin broke off as you stared him down, imploring him to partake in the practical joke you were playing on the other boy.

You sighed, “Okay. Seems like it’s sorted. We’ll meet up in two weeks. Hopefully, you’ll have your money ready, because I’m going to win this.”

“It’s Opposite Day. So you won’t, and I will, okay?” Jisung gave you a quick smile, dragging Seungmin towards the door.

“But, my ramen!” Seungmin complained.

“No time, we need to win.” Jisung dragged Seungmin out of the store.

You shared a glance with Jeongin,

This is going to be interesting...

“You aren’t a parent, nor a teacher, what are you doing here?” Jeongin warily watched you approach, narrowly avoiding the little kids running through your path.

“I need your help.” You said solemnly.

“How did you know I was doing work experience at the daycare?” Jeongin raised an eyebrow sceptically.

“Believe it or not, Seungmin can be extremely candid and direct when Jisung is harassing him on the other side of a phone call. Also, you’re working towards your teaching degree. It doesn’t seem too weird that you’re working at a daycare.” You noted, taking in your surroundings.

“Oh, alright. What can I help you with?” Jeongin said reluctantly.

“I need you to dress up like an old businessman and pretend to be my lawyer.” You said quickly, thrusting a back-rubbing cane into his hands before getting ready to bolt.

“Wait! Why?” Jeongin looked at you sceptically yet again.

You sighed,

“Look, I need Jisung to think it’s the real deal, otherwise...” You stopped, squinting at the two figures attempting to act casual outside the daycare.

“Oh my god, are they spying on us?”

“It was most definitely Jisung’s idea.” Jeongin joined you, staring as Jisung attempted to casually lean against a car, trying to converse with a stony-faced Seungmin, not long before setting off the car alarm and yelling at Seungmin to run.

You watched the two of them take off,

“Looks like we’ll need to up our game, Mr Yang. Or should I say... Prosecutor Yang?” You smiled pleadingly at him.

“Fine...”

“Let me get this straight, we’re spying on them now even though this whole lawsuit thing isn’t actually going to happen?” Jeongin asked, bringing his jacket closer to him as he entered the University café.

“Well, it’s not like we can’t put any effort in because then we’d be admitting defeat to this... joke? Regardless, we need to win.” You pushed your cap further down after nodding at Chan in acknowledgment.

You sat down in a secluded area of the café, Chan approaching to greet you,

“Why is it always that chaos is brought to this café by this friendship group?” Chan looked pointedly at Jeongin as he shrugged.

“How do you know that shenanigans are to take place? Can’t we just enjoy our coffee in a secluded area of the cafe in our spy clothes without suspicion?” You asked, slightly defensive.

“...no. Anyway, what can I get for your spy mission?” Chan asked, eyes glinting with amusement.

“I’ll have an iced americano.” Jeongin.

“And I’ll have a—“ you broke off as Chan interrupted you,

“New York Cheesecake? I know. Jisung and you come here to get some like every Friday. Speaking of Jisung, why are you sitting over here instead of with them over there?” He pointed to the two boys huddled at the table, Seungmin slightly bored, checking his phone regularly, and Jisung talking animatedly to him. Jisung, noticing Seungmin’s disinterest, grabbed his phone, getting up and placing it in the trash can before heading back to a very much annoyed Seungmin.

“It’s... a long story. Very chaotic! You probably wouldn’t want to hear it.” You ushered Chan away, Jeongin looked at you smugly,

“You and Jisung, huh? It’s almost as if you were... soulmates. Now I think I know why you need my help.”

You scoffed,

“I don’t need your help.”

“Oh really? Then I guess I’ll get going—“ You pulled him back into his seat, the chair scraping as it was pulled erratically from both directions. The commotion caused Jisung and Seungmin to pause, looking at you two, eyes widening in recognition.

You looked at Jeongin, panicked, before throwing the money at a stunned Chan and rushing out of the cafe.

“Don’t give my cheesecake to Jisung! We both know that he’ll eat it instead of giving it to me.”

[09:38] (Jeongin) Hey, make sure you come on time.

[09:40] (You) Why do we have to go to the shops for this?

[09:41] (Jeongin) sadly the courts were all booked out with proper criminal cases, so the shops will have to do to resolve this fake lawsuit. just get ready and come quickly!

[09:43] (You) fine, fine. I’ll get my finest attire on. See you soon.

You placed your phone on your bed before dressing up to the best of your ability, steeling yourself as you looked in the mirror,

I will tell him how I feel... no matter how complicated this lawsuit thing becomes.

“Look who finally decided to show.” Jisung drawled, sipping at his soft drink. You looked him up and down appraisingly, ignoring your beating heart... he cleaned up more than nicely.

“Okay, shall we get started?” You clapped your hands, sitting opposite Seungmin and Jisung... and next to a very poorly disguised Jeongin.

“Interesting outfit choice, Jeongin.” Seungmin noted.

“What’s even more interesting is that Y/N selected Jeongin as her representative. He’s not even a lawyer!” Jisung looked at you triumphantly.

“Neither am—“ Seungmin interrupted, Jisung shushing him before he could complete his sentence.

“I thought you were going to dress up like a business man! Not some young mobster. This isn’t a fanfic. You’re not the main character.” You hissed under your breath, leaning slightly towards Jeongin so he could hear.

“And what? You are?” He scoffed, before smiling widely at the two in front of him.

“Right, so Jeongin and I have discussed the case beforehand.” Seungmin nodded at Jeongin.

“We’ve decided that we’ll put together a bunch of trials, and whoever wins those will win this lawsuit.” Seungmin proposed.

“I... feel like this isn’t how lawsuits work.” Jisung said doubtfully.

“This is what I was taught in law school!” Seungmin defended.

“Gotta trust the guy who attended law school.” You pointed out.

“What do you mean attended? He’s still at law—“ Jisung broke off as Seungmin cleared his throat, pointedly.

“The first challenge being, who can make the two of us the best milkshake.”

“Ready to lose, Y/N?” Jisung raised an eyebrow competitively at you.

“You wish, Han Jisung!” You sprinted to the other side of the food court, lining up as Jisung hurried after you, ending up directly behind you.

[20 minutes later]

You sighed loudly,

This is taking too long.

You politely pushed in front of people to the front of the line,

“Hey, are you guys right or do you need help? Because I can help out if you want. It’ll help you get through this queue a lot faster.” You asked the worker at the register.

“I can too!” Jisung sidled up beside you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

The worker looked at you sceptically before sighing in defeat,

“You know what, you may as well help because we’re so swamped. Grab some gloves and a hairnet and get started.” The worker let you through.

That was easy enough.

This is not easy.

“Chocolate ice cream thick shake for Sara!” You called out, frantically pushing the lid on the shake before handing it to the customer. Jisung rushed beside you,

“No-fat, non-skim, skinny latte with soy milk, one and a half sugars and a drizzle of vanilla for Jacques?” Jisung called out,

“Actually, can I change my—“ Jacques started.

“No.” Jisung deadpanned.

“Ready to admit defeat?” You smirked.

“Never. We’re yet to make the best milkshakes for Seungmin and Jeongin.” Jisung ran to the blender, chucking in as many ingredients as possible.

“Two can play at that game.” You said resolutely, approaching another blender, using as many ingredients as possible.

This is either going to be a disaster or a five star Michelin dish in the making.

“Stop. Stealing. The. Caramel. Sauce.” You gave Jisung a death glare as you wrestled the sauce bottle, the manager of the store glaring at the both of you,

“Alright, that’s enough. The two of you need to leave. You basically ditched serving the customers and did this. I don’t even know what this is but you need to stop using our resources for it.”

“Wait but it’s the finishing touch!” Jisung pleaded as the manager shook his head resolutely.

You scoffed,

“Whatever. It’s not like we’re getting paid for this or anything. Which we should! In fact, I have a lawyer friend that could help me sue you. He’s very good and wins about... 100% of his clients’ cases.” You threatened.

The manager pinched the bridge of his nose,

“Half of the orders that you served came back with complaints so you really did nothing.”

“The people really don’t appreciate our talents.” Jisung gasped, offended.

“If you guys think you’re talents are in milkshake making, you really should reevaluate your...um...life choices.” The manager said sheepishly.

“Whatever, be prepared for a lawsuit! Let’s leave, Jisung.” You grabbed your milkshakes, grabbing Jisung’s arm and dragging him out of the store.

“100% track rate, you say? Have you admitted defeat already?” Jisung raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up, Jisung. I was obviously talking about Jeongin.”

“Right...”

“Um. What is this?” Seungmin scrunched his face in disgust, looking at the... mess of two drinks in front of him and Jeongin.

“Milkshakes!” Jisung said excitedly.

“I know that. But why did it take so long to make... you didn’t poison it, did you?” Seungmin looked at the two of you skeptically.

“Just drink it and tell us who wins.” You sighed as they picked up their drinks, tentatively sipping and then tasting the other,

“We need time to confer, so we’re going to give you the next challenge. You’re going to have to... pick out the best present for each other, and we’ll judge that once we see it.” Jeongin shooed the two of you away, winking at you as Jisung took the lead, striding towards a craft store.

As you browsed around the store, closely following Jisung, you stopped at the crayons section, exhaling a small laugh.

Jisung turned around, confused, eyes wide, settling on the packet of crayons,

“I dibs getting that for you.”

“You can’t dibs getting a present for someone.” You said incredulously.

“Um, well if it’s a competition, yes I can.” Jisung retorted, hands on hips.

“So you’re telling me, that the best present you could ever get me is crayons? You wouldn’t get that for me normally?” You rolled your eyes, exasperated.

“Why should I?” Jisung said, confused.

“Let me remind you. Twenty or so years ago, a young Jisung eats my crayons in retaliation for getting told to give them back. Young Y/N visits young Jisung in hospital, giving him a free record as a gift. And Jisung never reimburses Y/N with another set of crayons. You know, with your track record, it’s not even accidental. It’s serial. Like serial killing but serial property damage. Honestly, I could extend that to this lawsuit, as well.” You defended.

“Okay one, it’s too late to do that... isn’t it? I don’t have enough money for both! And two, is all you’re saying that your ideal gift is a pack of crayons?!”

“Are you admitting defeat already?” You smirked.

“Pfft no! Give me— that—“ He grabbed the pack of crayons from you, heading to the counter to pay as you grabbed another pack, lining up behind him.

“You both bought each other the same gift?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow at the two of you.

“Not intentionally! Please don’t disqualify us.” Jisung defended, apologetic.

“You literally went to the same store.” Jeongin deadpanned.

“That’s—“

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I need to go to the hospital in a bit. Okay, here’s what you can do. Explain to us why you bought the gift for said person, and we’ll judge based on your response.” Seungmin checked his watch, leaning back in his chair.

“Jisung, you go first.” Jeongin gestured for Jisung to start.

“Okay, well the short story is that Y/N told me that it was their ideal gift. The long story is that Y/N called me a serial property damager, and I really can’t afford that being added to my list of offences and be sued further.” Jisung said a matter-of-factly.

“Oookay... anyway, Y/N! What’s your reasoning?” Seungmin turned to you.

“Hmm... okay well when I was a child, Jisung stole my crayons and ate them, somehow we became friends, and he never bought me crayons to reimburse me, so I decided to be the bigger person and buy him crayons to share. Honestly, you’d think he’d know how to by now.” You tutted as a soft pink colouring flooded Jisung’s cheeks.

“...what?” Jeongin blurted out.

“It doesn’t matter! Jisung and Y/N are both... odd personalities. I mean, no wonder they’re best friends.” Seungmin dismissed.

There was that “f” word again...

“Anyway, I don’t have time for this. We’ll deliberate again as you do another challenge. You’re going to have to race each other around the entire shopping centre. Whoever comes first, wins... that round. Obviously. Otherwise, there would’ve been no point to these other challenges.” Seungmin dismissed the two of you, getting you to start at the same time.

Is this what my life has come to? Racing the literal love of my life to show that I’m serious about a fake lawsuit?... I really need to reconsider my lifestyle choices... and friends.

You and Jisung were neck and neck, you huffed as you sprinted next to him,

“Why are you so caught up on this whole lawsuit thing? You and I both know that it’s fake.”

Jisung glanced at you through the corner of his eye, “Hff— I— hff— know that but fake lawsuit or not, it was one of my New Years resolutions to win it.”

You stopped,

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” He stopped in front of you.

“Well— I... who am I to stop you from achieving your goals? I forfeit.” You stepped back, relieved to be out of it.

“You can’t be serious,” Jisung said, slightly shocked,

“I need you to finish this! I can’t just win by default. That defeats the whole purpose. Actually try.” He challenged.

“This is so stupid, though.” You grumbled.

“You’re the one that proposed it. Why did you, if you don’t want to do it?” Jisung raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“I— ugh. To be honest, it started out as a joke but then I saw how serious you got about it! So, I decided to play along so I wouldn’t let you down.” You sighed.

“You’re right, I paid Seungmin $100 to represent me.” He sighed in sync with you.

“...you really need to stop doing that. First Minho, now Seungmin? Are you going to pay the entirety of your friendship group for being your friend?” You looked at him disappointedly.

He rolled his eyes, “Speaking of friends... why did you play along?” He asked, curious.

You inhaled sharply,

Now or never. No more friend-zoning.

“Do you know what my New Years resolution was?” You asked.

He shook his head, clueless,

“It was to confess my feelings for you. I’m not as great with words as you are, but Han Jisung, I like you. A lot. Even if you do crazy things like eating my crayons.” You closed your eyes, unwilling to view his reaction... only for a slight pressure to meet your lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to meet Jisung’s as he kissed you softly.

He pulled back, bringing you into a hug,

“You’re always going to hold that against me, aren’t you?” He chuckled, whispering that to you.

“We just kissed and that’s what you’re concerned about?” You lightly smacked his chest.

“Well, what else am I supposed to say? I kissed you. I don’t think that best friends do that. Do I need to say it explicitly? Okay then, I like you too!” He said, confused.

You rolled your eyes,

“Whatever. We better get going if we want to finish this race, and help you achieve your life goals!”

“Oh my gosh, Y/N. You’re such a supportive... lover? We’ll figure it out.” He held out your hand, dodging past people as you both sprinted down the mall.

You slowed as you approached Seungmin and Jeongin, dropping your hand from his grasp. Jisung turned back to you, confused.

You ushered him forward, smiling encouragingly,

“Go! Finish first. Achieve your goals.”

He paused, before taking your hand again, dragging you over to Seungmin and Jeongin, they looked up, equally as confused as you.

“We both forfeit.” He said, in between catching his breath.

“What? Why?” Jeongin started, as Seungmin groaned,

“You’re telling me, that I spent the time that I could’ve been sleeping, only for you to forfeit. You know what? It’s fine. Neither of you won anyway because drinking your milkshakes was the worst thing we had to suffer through since the time you both made us cake!”

You reeled back in mock offence, Seungmin sighed,

“I’m sorry if that was harsh. I’m working nights at the hospital.”

“Wait. What does a lawyer have to do at a hospital?” Jisung questioned, confused.

“Do— do you guys even listen to the things I say? I quit law school after one lesson and went back to medical school.” Seungmin said, exasperated.

“And no! You can’t have your money back. We’re leaving now anyway, so bye!” He grabbed Jeongin, running away from the two of you as fast as possible.

“You know, I lied about my New Years resolution.” Jisung spun you around to face him, your hand meeting his bicep.

“Oh no! How could I ever trust you again?” You sighed dramatically.

“Y/N— I was trying to be sentimental and tell you that our resolutions were the same but you ruined the moment!” He pouted, annoyed.

You laughed, grabbing his cheeks (jeekies ahhhhhhhhh they’re so cute right—),

“I’ll sue you if you don’t stop being so cute!”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.”

➳ part eight?  |  masterlist!